istanbul to geordia: 26 hours, 1 coach, 1 bus, 1 marshrutka (minibus), a manic border and a taxi.
this bus ride was both very comfortable and totally unbareable. turkish buses are great, they have
enough leg room between seats to comfortably accomodate mature giraffes, and a host or hostess is always asking if one requires tea or softdrink.
this luxury, however, can be compromised when one is sat next to a slighly smelly old chap with a nice case of heliotosis and breathes like a sleeping rhinoceros. i kept sneaking looks at him, sure that he was fast asleep, only to find him wide awake and returning my glance. DOH!!!
luckily, halfway through the night, i woke to find he'd moved to an empty seat. PHEW!!!
arriving after 24 hours of eastward travel from istanbul at the georgian border with two georgian
women who had befriended me on the bus from rize to hopa, was like being thrown into a vat
of boiling fat with 10000 other sardines who desperately want to get the hell out.
i think there must be some kind of smuggling or duty avoidance going on from turkey to georgia.
the passport control was fine, but customs and immgration was ridiculous. imagine 60 people in a room the size of a toyota van. all pushing and shoving trying to get to the official first. little old women being crushed and then somehow in an almighty burst of brute force, breaking free with luggage in tow. skinny young men darting thru gaps. and one woman, who in the hour or so in the melee, i became particularly fond of. she was about the size and weight of a brahman bull, and i have to say, bore a remarkable resemblance to one as well, and she managed somehow to crush
everybody out of her way. somebody screamed at her for pushing in front of me, a poor tourist, and she disappeared for a short time then reappeared with a vengeance. a fresh burst of energy with which she could pulverise anything that stood in her way.
i can say though, that i knd of enjoyed the experience. i havent seen anything like it at a border post b4 (maybe i should go to afghanistan). and its great being able to tell a tank sized woman thats she's a dickhead and asking her if she feels better for helping all those around her enjoy their time just a little less, in a language she doesn't understand.
the official let me through with the most cursory luggage check and i was in georgia.
after another half hour, the 2 women who'd befriended me on the turkish side, bribed or busted their way thru the crush and we headed to find a ride into batumi, a town 15 km from the border.
after we discovered the minibuses were finished for the day, we looked for a taxi.
here, i must say, that i've been befriended before at a border crossing about 15km from the nearest town. on the way into macedonia. i got ripped off. i paid the 5euro for the taxi and the woman paid sweet f.a.
negotiations with driver of taxi to batumi and i'm smelling a rat. a $10 rat.
what to do?
10 pm at night, pooring rain, after 25 and a half hours of travel and i employ my 'first day in a new country' strategy. it involves paying more than what i should for almost anything, just so i can get to the nearest shower and pair of clean underwear.
so we ride to the batumi train station to let out the women, where i closely observe no money changing hands between them and the driver. woo hoo! duped again. surprise surprise! oh well i can wear $10.
i dump my kit in the musty room of a homestay in batumi and ask the old hostess if i can use the shower. 'shower broken'. hot water? 'problem'. so off i trudge to the outhouse where the temperature is bout 0.0000001 degrees celcius for a nice cold water bucket wash. i gotta say that a cold wash in cold temperatures is quite invigorating and does wonders for one's manhood.
but really, i'm stoked. i love the challenges of being pushed past my comfort zone in travel.
the next day i book a train ticket to the capital, tbilisi. a 2nd class sleeper leaving at 11pm and arriving at 7am for about the price of a 6pack of crown lager back home.
then, off to check out the local roman fortress on the black sea coast. it was a lovely day: deep grey skies and an all but howling onshore wind bring up the waves (hmmm.... surf possibilities on the black sea?). relieved i got a marshrutka back to batumi after only having spent a half hour waiting at the roadside after the rain started.
i spent the afternoon getting quitly innebriated alone in a local restaurant/ bar, out of the rain, until i was invited to continue this wholesome pastime with some local fellas. an unlce a wee bit older than myself and his 3 nephews, aged 16, 17 and 19. we drank beer together from great mugs and in between the uncle toasted our health etc. when a plate of steming Khinkali arrived i was taught how to bit the top off these tasty dumplings and finish them off without spilling any of the juice, while the 16 year old was happily sneaking extra shots of vodka.
needless to say, i was just a wee bit pissed when i arrived at the station at 11. i'm still wondering why no one wanted to talk to me.
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