Now this is what my husband looks like: British, white, blue-eyed, ashy hair. And now this is what I look like: Brown, curly hair, very, umm, latina. Now put my husband and I holding hands in the streets of Ashgabat. Quite a sight. Wherever we go, people stare at us. I'm not sure what goes through their minds but I'm sure that it's not my husband's reputation that's a stake. The other day we were walking hand in hand through the pristine Russian Bazaar and a couple of vendors who couldn't take their eyes off us asked us if we were married. Thank goodness for wedding bands. Just like those t-shirts that read "I'm With The Band," I should wear one that reads, "I'm His Wife," and an arrow pointing to the right.