Every homestay I was at I could plug. Most of the women acted like mothers. They wanted to care for you. I stayed at Lmedo's five nights on and off. Her place was convenient. It was in the old town Tbilisi, next to the baths, the hip cafes and restaurants. Lmedo cared for people. She had her hands full caring for people: her two beautiful daughters, two nephews and whenever I came back from wherever there was always another young man sleeping on the sofa ( 2:00 in the afternoon) and/or in the room I stayed. I could never put my pack in there immediately because of that. I didn't care. I usually wanted to just pee ( but the bathroom would be occupied) and splash water on my face (I did it in the kitchen sink) and take off my hiking boots and put on my Tevas. I would head out to my favorite cafe for the best ice coffee I've had in my life. As soon as they saw my face they knew what I wanted. I knew Tbilisi. I knew where the various bus stations were located, I knew the metro system to get there.
At the Kala Cafe I would use their clean bathroom and load up on toilet paper. At Lmedo's there was either none or it was sopping wet (the sopping wet brown paper towel type) from one of the kids using the shower and spraying the water everywhere. The kids, meaning the boys, were around 20 yrs old. They were unemployed college students (I'm assuming) who slept until 2 pm and stayed out all night. If you're the type that sleeps from 5 am until 2 pm you would be fine staying here. Fine if you don't mind dirty bathrooms and fleas from the kitty. My body is covered in bites now. I never slept there much but the last night was the worst. There was always some kind of racket going on - fights in and out of the house. Maybe someone was upset that I was occupying their room.
I stayed there because of the convenience and because of Dako, and especially Anna, who one night took me on a night tour of the city. The best time to see Tbilisi - the beautiful buildings were lit up and the night breeze made it bearable to walk. Anna wasn't being my guide just to be nice. She wanted to go out too but didn't want to walk alone. She was only 13 yrs old. Dari (Dako) was 14 yrs old. They both spoke English but Anna spoke it best. You can see how cute they are!
Like I said my last night was the worse. I don't know who was fighting but in the morning Lmedo unlocked the door for me to leave when she heard I was up. She didn't want to see me off like the other times and I really didn't want to see her either.
A couple of notes: drivers - you know the white line down the middle of the road? Well, that is a passing lane. The cars on each side will move over to widen the road even police cars - I swear! It happens every time I'm in a vehicle. Second note: I absolutely love Georgian people. They will stop whatever they are doing to take you where you want to go - I mean way out of their way.
The streets in Tbilisi are similar to the ones in Vietnam. I scream as I cross and I only cross with someone. I did this as a man was taking me to my desired restaurant. Then the last: I don't normally like transportation people I think they always try to rip you off. Twice I've had the mini bus driver give me a free ride because I was lost. And when I ask where the mini bus to Borgomi was located a taxi driver yelled out, "I'll take you there." A man that was helping me pointed correctly to where I should go then went over to the taxi driver to start a fight. I know he said something to the effect, "Do you think she's stupid or rich? Who would take a taxi to Borjomi hours away?"
I'm in Borgomi. Another mountain town and my last before going back to Turkey.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Plugs
Okay, where was I? I was still in Dilijan, Armenia, which I loved, but the hiking trails weren't very well developed and I don't like bushwacking it for long periods. I did go with this Aussy on a day hike - a mistake except he paid for the taxi ride to the trailhead. I would have bushwacked it a bit there but he didn't want to. He didn't trust my judgement, although he had basically nil trekking experience. I decided since he had been suppling the beer and wine I would turn around with him and go back. I hate defeat, but.
I go back to Georgia. I said I don't care for cities too much. San Francisco is one I love and Tbilisi isn't bad either. It's has beautiful, old architecture, some brick, some cobble stone streets that wind through charming neighborhoods. It has Orthodox churches, Armenian churches, a Mosque and a Synagogue all within a few blocks. There's lots of interesting galleries, hip cafes and excellent restaurants. I rarely eat food from other cultures when I'm in a particular country. I prefer to eat the local cuisine, but my last night in Tbilisi I had Chinese and it was amazingly good. I had cold marinated mushrooms in sesame oil and spicy hot sauteed beef with mushrooms and other thinnly sliced vegies that was as good as best I've had in San Francisco. Of course, a delicious Georgian white wine to go with it.
I stayed one night again at Lmedo's home (Nina's sister's place) then left the next day to go to Kazbegi. Kazbegi is only three hours from Tbilisi. On the way up the mini van stops at a place where women sell dried fruit on a stick. Across the street above the river sits the toilet. This one doesn't have a hole going down to the river. No the shit goes no where. It just rises up to the top and overflows and overflows and overflows. The flies make their way from the toilet to the dried fruit sticks. Another passenger offered me one and I refrained.
I just love mountain towns and Kazbegi was no different. I stayed at Nunu's. I had a nice room with a porch and near the very clean bathroom. What I really loved was being able to wash my clothes. Nunu had a big bucket I could use. My sink plug doesn't work for any of the sinks I've had on this trip. Unlike western sinks there is nothing to stop the water from going on down the drain, making it difficult to wash clothes. I took full advantage of the bucket and her clothes line washing everything I brought.
The next morning I hiked up to the Tsminga Church. There seemed to be some pilgrimage going on. Old women, young women in high heels were trekking up these steep mountains trails to get to the church. Men were going too but, at least, they weren't burdened by stockings and heels. It was hot and I couldn't imagine wearing these thick stockings let alone heels.
When I got to the church I sat on a wall and unzipped my pant legs to make them shorts. Immediately a boy runs over to me with a blanket, I thought for me to sit on. I wave no. Then a woman comes over with one and then I realize I'm suppose to be covered. I didn't plan on going in the church. I read that the outside was more interesting but I guess some higher priest was visiting and I was an embarassment. I just jumped over a wall and headed up the ridge to the glacier that I really wanted to see.
There was no trail to speak of, you just follow the ridge. I've followed plenty of ridges before. You can't get lost, but just to make sure a had a little dog lead the way. Later I read about this little dog. The author wrongly called it a he. The dog was definitely a female and for females around the world I take offense.
I go back to Georgia. I said I don't care for cities too much. San Francisco is one I love and Tbilisi isn't bad either. It's has beautiful, old architecture, some brick, some cobble stone streets that wind through charming neighborhoods. It has Orthodox churches, Armenian churches, a Mosque and a Synagogue all within a few blocks. There's lots of interesting galleries, hip cafes and excellent restaurants. I rarely eat food from other cultures when I'm in a particular country. I prefer to eat the local cuisine, but my last night in Tbilisi I had Chinese and it was amazingly good. I had cold marinated mushrooms in sesame oil and spicy hot sauteed beef with mushrooms and other thinnly sliced vegies that was as good as best I've had in San Francisco. Of course, a delicious Georgian white wine to go with it.
I stayed one night again at Lmedo's home (Nina's sister's place) then left the next day to go to Kazbegi. Kazbegi is only three hours from Tbilisi. On the way up the mini van stops at a place where women sell dried fruit on a stick. Across the street above the river sits the toilet. This one doesn't have a hole going down to the river. No the shit goes no where. It just rises up to the top and overflows and overflows and overflows. The flies make their way from the toilet to the dried fruit sticks. Another passenger offered me one and I refrained.
I just love mountain towns and Kazbegi was no different. I stayed at Nunu's. I had a nice room with a porch and near the very clean bathroom. What I really loved was being able to wash my clothes. Nunu had a big bucket I could use. My sink plug doesn't work for any of the sinks I've had on this trip. Unlike western sinks there is nothing to stop the water from going on down the drain, making it difficult to wash clothes. I took full advantage of the bucket and her clothes line washing everything I brought.
The next morning I hiked up to the Tsminga Church. There seemed to be some pilgrimage going on. Old women, young women in high heels were trekking up these steep mountains trails to get to the church. Men were going too but, at least, they weren't burdened by stockings and heels. It was hot and I couldn't imagine wearing these thick stockings let alone heels.
When I got to the church I sat on a wall and unzipped my pant legs to make them shorts. Immediately a boy runs over to me with a blanket, I thought for me to sit on. I wave no. Then a woman comes over with one and then I realize I'm suppose to be covered. I didn't plan on going in the church. I read that the outside was more interesting but I guess some higher priest was visiting and I was an embarassment. I just jumped over a wall and headed up the ridge to the glacier that I really wanted to see.
There was no trail to speak of, you just follow the ridge. I've followed plenty of ridges before. You can't get lost, but just to make sure a had a little dog lead the way. Later I read about this little dog. The author wrongly called it a he. The dog was definitely a female and for females around the world I take offense.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Better than Hiking
Someone wanted to know more about Emino. I thought no one wanted to know. I did write about him under the Kurds blog. I will write a little more but first a little more about me.
I've never been able to stay in a relationship. I never was very loyal, until James and that's who I shouldn't have been loyal to. I would tell my girlfriends that having sex with James always involved a song and pony dance. My friend, Alyssa, would say, "Not just a song and dance?" No more than that. Like pulling teeth.
I had this boyfriend, Bruce, who had money and a ph'd. He was a major tight wad and there's nothing I dislike more than tight wads. I stayed with him because I was flattered that he liked me. I was just a waitress at the time, but I had been a travel agent and I could still get deals no one out of the business could. I booked Bruce and myself a travel agent's deal to Kauai. He thought it was too high, but agreed just the same.
Well, I went to the Big Island first. Whenever I went to the Big Island after not living there I would stay with Tane, a former boyfriend. I always slept with him and this time was no different. He knew about Bruce. I don't know why I didn't stay with Tane. He said we got along well together and we did. I was a little afraid of him - afraid of falling for him too much. Plus I had to be free.
Tane wasn't my only boyfriend I had in Hawaii. I lived with Kenny, a surfer who wasn't too smart but he made me laugh. Kenny got a job working on a boat in Alaska so that was the end of that relationship. Then there was Patrick the wild artist. I didn't live with him, but he just lived down the road. I had a threesome with him. No more of those! Been there done that for me.
I'm getting to the point. So I'm staying with Tane and I tell him I'm going to the Kailua harbour to look for my old friend, Jana. You Whistler people know Jana. I could write a short story about Jana and our times together: Whistler, Laguna Beach and Hawaii. There was always trouble involved.
But I didn't find Jana. I found Kenny. I called Tane and lied. "I found Jana and I'm going to stay at her place tonight." What difference does it make you say. You're going to Kauai to see Bruce next and Tane knows that. It did make a difference. I could tell Tane knew I lied. Tane was very sensitive. The next night he was more clingy, more passionate and desperate in his lovemaking. I also lied to Kenny, not about Bruce but about Tane.
I'm telling you this because Emino has a girlfriend that lives in Portland. She's with him right now. I don't care about her, but I know she would care about me. Emino has had other relationships and Jennifer, the girl from Portland, doesn't want to know about them or me. I do know she has cut her trip short which is why I going to see him sooner.
And the sex. I had some British guys say that Turkish men have to rub their mothers' feet before going out and they don't go south. Emino's mother lives in Van, hundreds of miles away and he goes south. Not that I care. I'm usually twiddling my thumbs while that happens. I think it's overrated but at the same time I think there should be an effort. Better to, at least, try than not. So going south isn't what I like about Emino. It's his creativity and enthusiasm. And his acting like he cares, what do I want? I also like that he orders me around, takes control, which is a relief.
Of course, this affair isn't going to last. I'm 25 years older for god sakes. But why should I be relegated to fat old men whose stomachs are so big you can't see what else they have? Again the last two boyfriends were seven years younger but looked 10 years older. This might be my last time and I'm taking advantage.
Okay I'm going back to plugging some homestays and what not.
I've never been able to stay in a relationship. I never was very loyal, until James and that's who I shouldn't have been loyal to. I would tell my girlfriends that having sex with James always involved a song and pony dance. My friend, Alyssa, would say, "Not just a song and dance?" No more than that. Like pulling teeth.
I had this boyfriend, Bruce, who had money and a ph'd. He was a major tight wad and there's nothing I dislike more than tight wads. I stayed with him because I was flattered that he liked me. I was just a waitress at the time, but I had been a travel agent and I could still get deals no one out of the business could. I booked Bruce and myself a travel agent's deal to Kauai. He thought it was too high, but agreed just the same.
Well, I went to the Big Island first. Whenever I went to the Big Island after not living there I would stay with Tane, a former boyfriend. I always slept with him and this time was no different. He knew about Bruce. I don't know why I didn't stay with Tane. He said we got along well together and we did. I was a little afraid of him - afraid of falling for him too much. Plus I had to be free.
Tane wasn't my only boyfriend I had in Hawaii. I lived with Kenny, a surfer who wasn't too smart but he made me laugh. Kenny got a job working on a boat in Alaska so that was the end of that relationship. Then there was Patrick the wild artist. I didn't live with him, but he just lived down the road. I had a threesome with him. No more of those! Been there done that for me.
I'm getting to the point. So I'm staying with Tane and I tell him I'm going to the Kailua harbour to look for my old friend, Jana. You Whistler people know Jana. I could write a short story about Jana and our times together: Whistler, Laguna Beach and Hawaii. There was always trouble involved.
But I didn't find Jana. I found Kenny. I called Tane and lied. "I found Jana and I'm going to stay at her place tonight." What difference does it make you say. You're going to Kauai to see Bruce next and Tane knows that. It did make a difference. I could tell Tane knew I lied. Tane was very sensitive. The next night he was more clingy, more passionate and desperate in his lovemaking. I also lied to Kenny, not about Bruce but about Tane.
I'm telling you this because Emino has a girlfriend that lives in Portland. She's with him right now. I don't care about her, but I know she would care about me. Emino has had other relationships and Jennifer, the girl from Portland, doesn't want to know about them or me. I do know she has cut her trip short which is why I going to see him sooner.
And the sex. I had some British guys say that Turkish men have to rub their mothers' feet before going out and they don't go south. Emino's mother lives in Van, hundreds of miles away and he goes south. Not that I care. I'm usually twiddling my thumbs while that happens. I think it's overrated but at the same time I think there should be an effort. Better to, at least, try than not. So going south isn't what I like about Emino. It's his creativity and enthusiasm. And his acting like he cares, what do I want? I also like that he orders me around, takes control, which is a relief.
Of course, this affair isn't going to last. I'm 25 years older for god sakes. But why should I be relegated to fat old men whose stomachs are so big you can't see what else they have? Again the last two boyfriends were seven years younger but looked 10 years older. This might be my last time and I'm taking advantage.
Okay I'm going back to plugging some homestays and what not.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Dilijan Heaven
Dilijan totally changed my attitude about Armenia. It's mountainous and heavily wooded. It was a former Soviet artist community and it still is. I hiked up the hill from where I was dropped off to the Dili Villa and I immediately relax.
It's surrounded by pines and low mountains in the background. The place is owned by the director of a local art school. He speaks French and his wife speaks English. They weren't there when I arrived but their son (a graphic artist) and his adorable wife were. Anna makes me a pot of tea and puts out pastries, crepes rolled around cream cheese and several homemade jams. I sit in a room filled with art work.
I'm the only one there. I pick the best room next to the balcony that has a very comfortable swing where you can enjoy the views. My bed is the best I've had in, at least, several weeks. It's firm, double bed with a soft comforter that's needed in this cool weather. I bargained down from 14k to 10k ($27). It's ten times better than that hotel I was just at.
I take a walk through the village on a stone path that's seems to go endlessly. There are lush green hills that are thick with the forest. The wooden homes look like the ones in Switzerland and that's what Dilijan is called: the Switzerland of Armenia. I have been to several places in the world that are called that. None of them really look like Switzerland but you get the idea.
There's a charming artist area with lots of arts and crafts and a darling cafe where I have a beer and a snack, and what a snack! A cucumber yogurt dip with mint and raisens. I also have marinated olives in pomagranite juice and walnuts. There are many interesting things on the menu but I don't want to eat too much. I having Anna make my dinner.
I go to the tourist information place to find out about hiking trail. I see another English speaker there but I ignore him. I think he's German and I see enough Germans.
He's not and he's staying at the Dili Villa also. Barnie and I end up having many conversations on the lovely balcony. He is a wealthy neuro psychologist from Sydney. He lives next to Cate Blanchette. We're the same age, the same wild streaks as youth, the recreational use (if you know what I mean), the same music: Lou Reed, Tom Waits and books. But he's now rich and I'm not. He supplies the beer and wine.
As I thought dinner was great: wild mushroom soup, cured meats and sausages, plenty of different salads, and roast chicken with grilled tomatoes and potatoes. I'm going to jump ahead and tell you about the next night's dinner: tarragon barley soup, more wild mushrooms - this time with potatoes, (Barnie and I almost fight over them.), vegetable egg patties, herbed meat balls with green beans, marinated salad, and grilled aubergines.
I didn't want to not like Armenia. The people have suffered tremendously and I wanted to like them. It's my own fault. I should have come directly to the mountains.
It's surrounded by pines and low mountains in the background. The place is owned by the director of a local art school. He speaks French and his wife speaks English. They weren't there when I arrived but their son (a graphic artist) and his adorable wife were. Anna makes me a pot of tea and puts out pastries, crepes rolled around cream cheese and several homemade jams. I sit in a room filled with art work.
I'm the only one there. I pick the best room next to the balcony that has a very comfortable swing where you can enjoy the views. My bed is the best I've had in, at least, several weeks. It's firm, double bed with a soft comforter that's needed in this cool weather. I bargained down from 14k to 10k ($27). It's ten times better than that hotel I was just at.
I take a walk through the village on a stone path that's seems to go endlessly. There are lush green hills that are thick with the forest. The wooden homes look like the ones in Switzerland and that's what Dilijan is called: the Switzerland of Armenia. I have been to several places in the world that are called that. None of them really look like Switzerland but you get the idea.
There's a charming artist area with lots of arts and crafts and a darling cafe where I have a beer and a snack, and what a snack! A cucumber yogurt dip with mint and raisens. I also have marinated olives in pomagranite juice and walnuts. There are many interesting things on the menu but I don't want to eat too much. I having Anna make my dinner.
I go to the tourist information place to find out about hiking trail. I see another English speaker there but I ignore him. I think he's German and I see enough Germans.
He's not and he's staying at the Dili Villa also. Barnie and I end up having many conversations on the lovely balcony. He is a wealthy neuro psychologist from Sydney. He lives next to Cate Blanchette. We're the same age, the same wild streaks as youth, the recreational use (if you know what I mean), the same music: Lou Reed, Tom Waits and books. But he's now rich and I'm not. He supplies the beer and wine.
As I thought dinner was great: wild mushroom soup, cured meats and sausages, plenty of different salads, and roast chicken with grilled tomatoes and potatoes. I'm going to jump ahead and tell you about the next night's dinner: tarragon barley soup, more wild mushrooms - this time with potatoes, (Barnie and I almost fight over them.), vegetable egg patties, herbed meat balls with green beans, marinated salad, and grilled aubergines.
I didn't want to not like Armenia. The people have suffered tremendously and I wanted to like them. It's my own fault. I should have come directly to the mountains.
Taxi Driver
So like I said in the previous blog I have to take a taxi back to the highway where I just came from.
I told the taxi driver, well, I didn't tell, I held up one finger. In the past this meant a one hundred coin. When he gets to the stop, where one boy is waiting, the taxi driver tells me there is no bus to Dilijan. He will take me there for 4000. Fuck that - no way! I asked the kid if there was a bus to Dilijan and he said yes.
Now I've dragged the kid into this mess. The taxi driver yells at him. I give the driver the 100 and tell him to get lost. He tells me he wants 300. Fight insues. the driver yells at me, the kid and another man nearby.
The kid doesn't really know for sure about the bus to Dilijan, because he's not going there. I can tell he looks concerned. At this point I just want to get out of Sevan. If I have to go back to Yerevan I will. I think driver finally leaves but he just goes to the other side of the median and yells from over there. I see him get on his phone, then he comes over and tells the kid that the bus to Dilijan leaves at 3 pm. It's 10:30.
I want to get away from that driver. If the bus leaves at 3pm I'll go back to the hotel and hang out. The walk to the hotel is still quite a ways down the highway and I know that driver will drive and harass me the entire way. A private van pulls over and adjusts something in his engine. The boy knows him and goes over there to talk. The taxi driver yells at this guy too from across the road. But he doesn't come over. I see the boy start to get in with this guy. I run over there and beg with my sign language to please just take me a short distance. He does. They drop me off at the hotel entrance. I'm so happy to get away from that taxi driver.
I walk up the hill to the hotel and ask the receptionist if she knows when the bus goes to Dilijan. She doesn't know. "Well I stayed here last night and spent a lot of money. Maybe you could make some phone calls and find out." She does and says (She speaks English) that she thinks it leaves at 11:00. Then she asked a couple of employees and one uses his cell phone and makes a couple of calls. "Go now!"
I run down the hill and within 15 sec. a mini van pulls over. I'm on my way to Dilijan.
I told the taxi driver, well, I didn't tell, I held up one finger. In the past this meant a one hundred coin. When he gets to the stop, where one boy is waiting, the taxi driver tells me there is no bus to Dilijan. He will take me there for 4000. Fuck that - no way! I asked the kid if there was a bus to Dilijan and he said yes.
Now I've dragged the kid into this mess. The taxi driver yells at him. I give the driver the 100 and tell him to get lost. He tells me he wants 300. Fight insues. the driver yells at me, the kid and another man nearby.
The kid doesn't really know for sure about the bus to Dilijan, because he's not going there. I can tell he looks concerned. At this point I just want to get out of Sevan. If I have to go back to Yerevan I will. I think driver finally leaves but he just goes to the other side of the median and yells from over there. I see him get on his phone, then he comes over and tells the kid that the bus to Dilijan leaves at 3 pm. It's 10:30.
I want to get away from that driver. If the bus leaves at 3pm I'll go back to the hotel and hang out. The walk to the hotel is still quite a ways down the highway and I know that driver will drive and harass me the entire way. A private van pulls over and adjusts something in his engine. The boy knows him and goes over there to talk. The taxi driver yells at this guy too from across the road. But he doesn't come over. I see the boy start to get in with this guy. I run over there and beg with my sign language to please just take me a short distance. He does. They drop me off at the hotel entrance. I'm so happy to get away from that taxi driver.
I walk up the hill to the hotel and ask the receptionist if she knows when the bus goes to Dilijan. She doesn't know. "Well I stayed here last night and spent a lot of money. Maybe you could make some phone calls and find out." She does and says (She speaks English) that she thinks it leaves at 11:00. Then she asked a couple of employees and one uses his cell phone and makes a couple of calls. "Go now!"
I run down the hill and within 15 sec. a mini van pulls over. I'm on my way to Dilijan.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Nightmare
BTW just a reminder that I can't spell and I don't have spell check, like aubergine (eggplant) and museum - both I have constantly misspelled.
So Sevan - although it's the end of June the first place I chose to stay was not open for the season yet, which is why I went to the expensive place. I thought I could use my credit card, which I had packed before I left. I could save my precious dollars - low as they are.
The hotel didn't take credit cards. It was actually $76 not $80. There was a huge pool with two slides going into it, but I was told it wasn't open yet, although I saw a man cleaning it. Like I said it was cold. It feels more like April here. The hotel had an indoor pool and sauna that I could use for an extra $36 AN HOUR. I looked at it and the pool was really too small for laps. As if.
They wanted money now. I had to walk back to Sevan town which is down the highway about 2 km. Sevan, except for the lake, isn't very scenic. Understatement. I don't even think the lake is scenic unless you like looking at lakes from the highway. There was no where to walk except along highway and that's what I did.
I changed some money then I went looking for a beer passing an internet cafe, where you got my last post. In the cafe I asked for a beer, having no idea what the word for beer is. I just pointed and said I wanted to get drunk. I guess some guys knew what I said and laughed as they left the cafe. Really I never get drunk when I'm travelling. I know some people will find this hard to believe, but it's true. I need to be in control.
I drank one beer and went back to the hotel to eat. I was a little buzzed because I had had nothing to eat. I told the waiter I wanted a rack of lamb. I doubted him but he convinced me to have the local fish. I also had stuffed aubergine. Both were excellent and I couldn't finish it all. The meal put me in a better mood.
It wasn't even 6 pm. I took a nap and woke up around 8 pm. The waiter told me there would be a band tonight so I went back up to the restaurant to see what was going on. Oh back to the restaurant or main part of the hotel meant walking up a steep road. They had put me in their cabins at the bottom.
But there was a band. A group of Armenian were having a private party and they let me watch. I didn't dance. I wasn't dressed properly. I had on hiking boots and the women dancing all wore 6 inch heels. Armenias like to swing their arms wildly, swing their arms, legs and step highly.
There were two singers. One sang traditional songs and the other more pop. I know he didn't speak Portuguese but he also sang some Brazilian songs. This guy was a big flirt, or maybe because I was the only single. He would look directly at me as he sang and then sat next to me. Fortunately he was called away. I'm not into nylon shirts. This was my highlight of Sevan. Because the next day:
There was suppose to be a mini bus at 10 am to Dilijan. I walked to the town. I know I spent $76 on a hotel but I was not taking a taxi. I get to town and the first, second and third person said in so many words that I would have to go back to the highway to get the bus to Dilijan. I'm not happpy about this. It was 9:45 so I'd have to take a taxi to get there in time.
So Sevan - although it's the end of June the first place I chose to stay was not open for the season yet, which is why I went to the expensive place. I thought I could use my credit card, which I had packed before I left. I could save my precious dollars - low as they are.
The hotel didn't take credit cards. It was actually $76 not $80. There was a huge pool with two slides going into it, but I was told it wasn't open yet, although I saw a man cleaning it. Like I said it was cold. It feels more like April here. The hotel had an indoor pool and sauna that I could use for an extra $36 AN HOUR. I looked at it and the pool was really too small for laps. As if.
They wanted money now. I had to walk back to Sevan town which is down the highway about 2 km. Sevan, except for the lake, isn't very scenic. Understatement. I don't even think the lake is scenic unless you like looking at lakes from the highway. There was no where to walk except along highway and that's what I did.
I changed some money then I went looking for a beer passing an internet cafe, where you got my last post. In the cafe I asked for a beer, having no idea what the word for beer is. I just pointed and said I wanted to get drunk. I guess some guys knew what I said and laughed as they left the cafe. Really I never get drunk when I'm travelling. I know some people will find this hard to believe, but it's true. I need to be in control.
I drank one beer and went back to the hotel to eat. I was a little buzzed because I had had nothing to eat. I told the waiter I wanted a rack of lamb. I doubted him but he convinced me to have the local fish. I also had stuffed aubergine. Both were excellent and I couldn't finish it all. The meal put me in a better mood.
It wasn't even 6 pm. I took a nap and woke up around 8 pm. The waiter told me there would be a band tonight so I went back up to the restaurant to see what was going on. Oh back to the restaurant or main part of the hotel meant walking up a steep road. They had put me in their cabins at the bottom.
But there was a band. A group of Armenian were having a private party and they let me watch. I didn't dance. I wasn't dressed properly. I had on hiking boots and the women dancing all wore 6 inch heels. Armenias like to swing their arms wildly, swing their arms, legs and step highly.
There were two singers. One sang traditional songs and the other more pop. I know he didn't speak Portuguese but he also sang some Brazilian songs. This guy was a big flirt, or maybe because I was the only single. He would look directly at me as he sang and then sat next to me. Fortunately he was called away. I'm not into nylon shirts. This was my highlight of Sevan. Because the next day:
There was suppose to be a mini bus at 10 am to Dilijan. I walked to the town. I know I spent $76 on a hotel but I was not taking a taxi. I get to town and the first, second and third person said in so many words that I would have to go back to the highway to get the bus to Dilijan. I'm not happpy about this. It was 9:45 so I'd have to take a taxi to get there in time.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Yerevan, Armenia
I'm not too happy here in Yerevan. It's a city that's not European enough to be so expensive. I don't like cities per se anyway. I don't know why I came to Armenia. The mountainous areas I want to go to have no public transportation. I'm thinking of going to Lake Sevan tomorrow and I probably will, but I know it's very expensive. I need to get in the water quickly or go for a hike. That means back into Georgia to Kazbegi on the Russian border.
That's all I have to say. Well, there are a few more: the toilet paper here is white and soft. On the tables of all the restaurants are a box of tissues. The girls are skinny, wear skimpy tight clothes, and wear the highest heels I've ever seen.
I'm in Sevan and I hate it more. It's in the middle of no where, it's freezing, and even for me it's too cold to swim. No mountains, no where to walk. For anyone who knows Edgerton, Missouri it's like that. Podunkville. You need a car to go anywhere and I don't have one. I'm paying $80 a night and I might as well be in Timbuktu. Actually that's an insult to Timbuktu which I heard is a fascinating place.
Hey but it's got an internet cafe. Now if I can only find a beer or something way stronger.
That's all I have to say. Well, there are a few more: the toilet paper here is white and soft. On the tables of all the restaurants are a box of tissues. The girls are skinny, wear skimpy tight clothes, and wear the highest heels I've ever seen.
I'm in Sevan and I hate it more. It's in the middle of no where, it's freezing, and even for me it's too cold to swim. No mountains, no where to walk. For anyone who knows Edgerton, Missouri it's like that. Podunkville. You need a car to go anywhere and I don't have one. I'm paying $80 a night and I might as well be in Timbuktu. Actually that's an insult to Timbuktu which I heard is a fascinating place.
Hey but it's got an internet cafe. Now if I can only find a beer or something way stronger.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Other Travellers
Besides the countries and their people I like travelling because I like meeting other travellers.
In Tbilisi, Georgia ordering one glass of wine is expensive, for just a little more you can have the whole bottle and take what don't drink with you. A couple of nights ago I ordered a whole bottle and as I was eatting my meal I saw two guys come in. I recognized their American accents. Note: They could have been Canadian. Before Obama I used to ask first if they were Canadian because if I asked if they were American and they weren't I would insult the Canadians. So after I finished my meal I took my bottle of wine to their table and shared the rest with them.
They were American students studying in Istanbul and were in Georgia during one of their breaks. I enjoyed their conversation.
The next night at another restaurant I met Elizabeth. She joined me at my table. Elizabeth was Austrian, spoke fluent Russian and English (of course). She getting her Ph'D in Russian political/social science in London. Her parents were both alpinist, although sadly her father died in Nepal while trying to attempt Annapura.
If it wasn't for Elizabeth I would have never gone to the Baths which were a short walking distance from both the restaurant and where I was staying (Nino's sister's).
It cost less than $2 to get in and use the sulfer showers and sauna. For less than $5 we got a 20 min. massage. All the women in the place were naked, most were pretty big. The woman who gave me a massage weighed about 300 lbs and she was naked. She rolled me around on a tile slab, then lathered me up with soap and rinsed me off.
I probably would have called it a night after that but Elizabeth asked if I wanted to have glass of wine some place. At the restaurant where I met Elizabeth I had a beer not wanting to get a whole bottle of wine so I thought why not? We went to this hip place and got a bottle.
While we were sitting there one Georgian guy tried to have a political conversation with me but when I told him I was a leftist he cut it short. Don't start a political conversation with me unless you're on my side and don't bad mouth Obama. I'm highly emotional.
We were left in peace to talk about ourselves and listen to the jazz music, which I thought was pretty good, especially the Billie Holiday type singer. I can thank Elizabeth for this great night.
In Tbilisi, Georgia ordering one glass of wine is expensive, for just a little more you can have the whole bottle and take what don't drink with you. A couple of nights ago I ordered a whole bottle and as I was eatting my meal I saw two guys come in. I recognized their American accents. Note: They could have been Canadian. Before Obama I used to ask first if they were Canadian because if I asked if they were American and they weren't I would insult the Canadians. So after I finished my meal I took my bottle of wine to their table and shared the rest with them.
They were American students studying in Istanbul and were in Georgia during one of their breaks. I enjoyed their conversation.
The next night at another restaurant I met Elizabeth. She joined me at my table. Elizabeth was Austrian, spoke fluent Russian and English (of course). She getting her Ph'D in Russian political/social science in London. Her parents were both alpinist, although sadly her father died in Nepal while trying to attempt Annapura.
If it wasn't for Elizabeth I would have never gone to the Baths which were a short walking distance from both the restaurant and where I was staying (Nino's sister's).
It cost less than $2 to get in and use the sulfer showers and sauna. For less than $5 we got a 20 min. massage. All the women in the place were naked, most were pretty big. The woman who gave me a massage weighed about 300 lbs and she was naked. She rolled me around on a tile slab, then lathered me up with soap and rinsed me off.
I probably would have called it a night after that but Elizabeth asked if I wanted to have glass of wine some place. At the restaurant where I met Elizabeth I had a beer not wanting to get a whole bottle of wine so I thought why not? We went to this hip place and got a bottle.
While we were sitting there one Georgian guy tried to have a political conversation with me but when I told him I was a leftist he cut it short. Don't start a political conversation with me unless you're on my side and don't bad mouth Obama. I'm highly emotional.
We were left in peace to talk about ourselves and listen to the jazz music, which I thought was pretty good, especially the Billie Holiday type singer. I can thank Elizabeth for this great night.
Nino Ratiani
When I arrived at Nino's, Nino wasn't there. She was in Tbilisi helping her daughter leave for London where she would be studying at a law university. This was a Thursday. Her husband had to make me dinner. He gave me a soup, meatballs, a really good and unusual cabbage and carrot salad and, of course, as almost always everywhere chubadari and hachapuri. For breakfast I got scramble eggs among other things. Nino's husband didn't speak a word of English and I know only about three words in Georgian.
I have to tell you I have absolutely given up trying to learn Georgian. I simply can't do it. This is the first time I haven't been able to say: how much, where is, I like, my numbers and a few other things I always learn in other languages. Her husband, and I don't know his name - I always called him Nino's husband - got along swell. One day when I was taking a day hike I got caught in the rain. This didn't bother me. What bothered me was that I had washed my clothes and left them on the line. They would be soaked. I'd have nothing dry to wear when I returned. But hubby dear took them off after they dried and before the rains came. I loved him for that.
It was just us two until Saturday when three other people showed up.
Nino was suppose to arrive by 5 pm. I didn't believe that because, even though, she drove if you take public transportation it takes at least 15 hrs. I was right she didn't arrive until 8 pm, which meant her husband had to make dinner again. The poor man was frantic. He was running out of food so we all got eggs for dinner. That night I heard them fighting "How could you leave alone for so long with all these guests?" I know this is what he said.
The next morning I left for my five day trek. Nino is suppose to be known for her fabulous vegetarian meals but I would have to wait until I came back Fri. to see if this was true.
So far except for the meals I helped prepare the best two meals were the ones at George's House where I stayed during my Lycia trek with Halim. Oh, I have had great meals but George's vegetarian meals acquired the most work and you could tell.
Well now I have to say that Nino's meal Friday night was on par. Beside the cabbage salad that I love, she made a cucumber, rice, and egg salad with this yogurt dressing. I have to try and duplicate that at home. I love beans and you might say beans are beans, but these were really flavored well and put into her tomato based soup, she also made a vegetarian pizza with a nice crust and she took thinly sliced abergine cut at a diagonal and topped with roasted red peppers for another type of pizza. I had homemade wine which was very good to wash it all down.
I liked staying at Nino's so much that when she told me she had a sister in Tbilisi where I could stay I did. Her sister Lmedo is keeping some books for me now while I'm in Armenia. That's where I am.
I have to tell you I have absolutely given up trying to learn Georgian. I simply can't do it. This is the first time I haven't been able to say: how much, where is, I like, my numbers and a few other things I always learn in other languages. Her husband, and I don't know his name - I always called him Nino's husband - got along swell. One day when I was taking a day hike I got caught in the rain. This didn't bother me. What bothered me was that I had washed my clothes and left them on the line. They would be soaked. I'd have nothing dry to wear when I returned. But hubby dear took them off after they dried and before the rains came. I loved him for that.
It was just us two until Saturday when three other people showed up.
Nino was suppose to arrive by 5 pm. I didn't believe that because, even though, she drove if you take public transportation it takes at least 15 hrs. I was right she didn't arrive until 8 pm, which meant her husband had to make dinner again. The poor man was frantic. He was running out of food so we all got eggs for dinner. That night I heard them fighting "How could you leave alone for so long with all these guests?" I know this is what he said.
The next morning I left for my five day trek. Nino is suppose to be known for her fabulous vegetarian meals but I would have to wait until I came back Fri. to see if this was true.
So far except for the meals I helped prepare the best two meals were the ones at George's House where I stayed during my Lycia trek with Halim. Oh, I have had great meals but George's vegetarian meals acquired the most work and you could tell.
Well now I have to say that Nino's meal Friday night was on par. Beside the cabbage salad that I love, she made a cucumber, rice, and egg salad with this yogurt dressing. I have to try and duplicate that at home. I love beans and you might say beans are beans, but these were really flavored well and put into her tomato based soup, she also made a vegetarian pizza with a nice crust and she took thinly sliced abergine cut at a diagonal and topped with roasted red peppers for another type of pizza. I had homemade wine which was very good to wash it all down.
I liked staying at Nino's so much that when she told me she had a sister in Tbilisi where I could stay I did. Her sister Lmedo is keeping some books for me now while I'm in Armenia. That's where I am.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Homestays
As much as I liked Zhora Kaldeni and Kato when I saw the food they laid out for me I was really disappointed. I was ravenous after my long trek here, but all they put on the table was jam, bread, and cheese. The cheese they put in their bread to bake is different than the type they serve by itself. It's like a dry mozzarella but much, much more saltier - way saltier than any feta. I don't really like it. This hasn't been a problem before because there was always been an abundance of other food to eat. After my spread in Zhabeshi I couldn't believe this was all I was getting. What could I say? I ate it and went to bed immediately.
For breakfast I got the exact same thing. Oh well, I decided not to let this bother me They are poor people although Zhora was pretty fat. What bother me was that they called a guide in Mestia because they didn't think I should take the route I planned on taking.
David Zhorzhliani told me there was too much snow the way I wanted to go. I know if he thought I was a man it would have been alright. I ignored his advice. I didn't want to go the boring flat way. I told myself I'd walk the way I wanted first and if it looked bad I'd turn around.
It was an easy walk - all level, until the pass which went through the snow. This is why I was told not to go this way. I've walked through lots of snow, camped in snow. What's the big deal? David was right about one thing. You couldn't see the markers but it was an obvious route. After the pass the trail became level again and it was level all the way to Iprali my next stop.
This time I stayed with Ucha Margvelani, my only option. He wanted 40 gel, 15 gel more than the Naveriani family in Zhabeshi and 10 more then Zhora. He did have a beautiful pressed metal and wood house with lots of windows and a brand new bathroom with the biggest tub I've seen on this trip and indoor toilet.
But dinner was just bread and cheese. I got my Russian phrase book out and went through the food list. It was no for everything until I came to eggs. His employee, Maria, went out to the chicken coop, got a couple of eggs and fried them up for me. Exhausted, I went to bed. At 11:15 Maria wakes me. I'm not happy about this, but curious. I go downstairs to the dining area and laid out for me is more bread and cheese. I grumble, turn around and go back to bed.
The next morning for breakfast I have a huge feast and vodka. Something was lost in the translation. I drink a vodka shot with Ucha. This pleases him and he kisses me. Everything is cool.
The walk to Ushguli from Iprali was easy. I stayed in Ushguli two nights because the following day I planned on hiking to Shkara Glacier. Ushguli, like all the villages on this trek, has backed mud paths that connect the village homes and stores (if they have them) together. In Ushguli's case the mud is really shit and lots of it: cow shit, goat shit, sheep shit, chicken shit, and dog shit. My boots are covered in it.
I stay with Nino Ratiani cousin, Dato. I have to tell you more about Nino later. I stayed with her and her husband in Mestia. I will return to her place. She's keeping things of mind I didn't need to bring on this trek. When I get to Dato's, Dato is drunk. This I didn't mind, his family whisked him off to bed, but what was strange was that his daughter seemed to have gone into a trance and while I was eatting dinner. She sits next to me and recites what I assume are religious connotations loudly and continuously even after I get up and leave.
Dato's wife put out a fabulous dinner for me. The best thing was this abergine spread which I first thought was mushrooms. The abergine had been dried, then reconstituted with cream. I dipped the meat, potatoes and bread into it.
The next morning before I left to the glacier I witnessed Anzor, Dato's son, and Anzor's friends butcher a calf. They killed the calf so quickly it never made a sound. Because I requested it I had the tongue for a late lunch. The best I couldn't get until breakfast because it needed to sit overnight: beef pate.
Next about Nino and vegetarian food.
For breakfast I got the exact same thing. Oh well, I decided not to let this bother me They are poor people although Zhora was pretty fat. What bother me was that they called a guide in Mestia because they didn't think I should take the route I planned on taking.
David Zhorzhliani told me there was too much snow the way I wanted to go. I know if he thought I was a man it would have been alright. I ignored his advice. I didn't want to go the boring flat way. I told myself I'd walk the way I wanted first and if it looked bad I'd turn around.
It was an easy walk - all level, until the pass which went through the snow. This is why I was told not to go this way. I've walked through lots of snow, camped in snow. What's the big deal? David was right about one thing. You couldn't see the markers but it was an obvious route. After the pass the trail became level again and it was level all the way to Iprali my next stop.
This time I stayed with Ucha Margvelani, my only option. He wanted 40 gel, 15 gel more than the Naveriani family in Zhabeshi and 10 more then Zhora. He did have a beautiful pressed metal and wood house with lots of windows and a brand new bathroom with the biggest tub I've seen on this trip and indoor toilet.
But dinner was just bread and cheese. I got my Russian phrase book out and went through the food list. It was no for everything until I came to eggs. His employee, Maria, went out to the chicken coop, got a couple of eggs and fried them up for me. Exhausted, I went to bed. At 11:15 Maria wakes me. I'm not happy about this, but curious. I go downstairs to the dining area and laid out for me is more bread and cheese. I grumble, turn around and go back to bed.
The next morning for breakfast I have a huge feast and vodka. Something was lost in the translation. I drink a vodka shot with Ucha. This pleases him and he kisses me. Everything is cool.
The walk to Ushguli from Iprali was easy. I stayed in Ushguli two nights because the following day I planned on hiking to Shkara Glacier. Ushguli, like all the villages on this trek, has backed mud paths that connect the village homes and stores (if they have them) together. In Ushguli's case the mud is really shit and lots of it: cow shit, goat shit, sheep shit, chicken shit, and dog shit. My boots are covered in it.
I stay with Nino Ratiani cousin, Dato. I have to tell you more about Nino later. I stayed with her and her husband in Mestia. I will return to her place. She's keeping things of mind I didn't need to bring on this trek. When I get to Dato's, Dato is drunk. This I didn't mind, his family whisked him off to bed, but what was strange was that his daughter seemed to have gone into a trance and while I was eatting dinner. She sits next to me and recites what I assume are religious connotations loudly and continuously even after I get up and leave.
Dato's wife put out a fabulous dinner for me. The best thing was this abergine spread which I first thought was mushrooms. The abergine had been dried, then reconstituted with cream. I dipped the meat, potatoes and bread into it.
The next morning before I left to the glacier I witnessed Anzor, Dato's son, and Anzor's friends butcher a calf. They killed the calf so quickly it never made a sound. Because I requested it I had the tongue for a late lunch. The best I couldn't get until breakfast because it needed to sit overnight: beef pate.
Next about Nino and vegetarian food.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Zhabeshi to Adishi
You know what I really love about hiking in more undeveloped countries. The non existent switch backs. I love going straight up and up and up. And even better are the false summits. It's so satisfying to get where you think is the top and it's not. Then the trail markers where it seems like most of the time you're walking back and forth trying to find them. No not walking back and forth but up and down those straight up non existent switch backs. This was how it was from Zhabeshi to Adishi.
I came to a T and to the left was a well trodden trail in the direction of Adishi. Even so I went straight up first because I'd been following a run off stream over the rocks and in the water and it continued on up. But just over a little hill the ruts branched off in about five different directions and I saw a bunch of cows so I thought it was a cow path. Back down to the T and to the left. It was steep but wide, although as I went along I saw no markers, which is a bad sign. I walked up this trail three times and back. Then I went to the right, which I knew was wrong, but more importantly I saw one of those shephards. I didn't want my face chewed off so I wasn't going that way no matter what. Then I decided to back down towards Zhabeshi again and followed the markers again. This took me back up to the T once more. Frustrated I pulled out my meat pie slice and ate it and thought I'm just going to go back to Mestia. I heard that local guides didn't like the markers because they wouldn't be needed. Maybe they rubbed them out. I turn around and there was a gold marker far above the ground on a rock wall. Usually they are red and white.
I followed it and didn't have a problem finding any markers the rest of the day. I still had the non existent switch backs and false summits. Plenty of streams to cross: one I threw my boots across and the other was so wide and swift I had to get a big strong stick and use it to help me from being knocked over by the water.
Usually you see the village you are walking to in advance, but I didn't see Adishi until the last 10 minutes. The village seemed unoccupied as these villages do because not many people can live like this anymore. The only people I see are Zhora and her lover Kato. This is the Lesbian couple I will stay with.
I came to a T and to the left was a well trodden trail in the direction of Adishi. Even so I went straight up first because I'd been following a run off stream over the rocks and in the water and it continued on up. But just over a little hill the ruts branched off in about five different directions and I saw a bunch of cows so I thought it was a cow path. Back down to the T and to the left. It was steep but wide, although as I went along I saw no markers, which is a bad sign. I walked up this trail three times and back. Then I went to the right, which I knew was wrong, but more importantly I saw one of those shephards. I didn't want my face chewed off so I wasn't going that way no matter what. Then I decided to back down towards Zhabeshi again and followed the markers again. This took me back up to the T once more. Frustrated I pulled out my meat pie slice and ate it and thought I'm just going to go back to Mestia. I heard that local guides didn't like the markers because they wouldn't be needed. Maybe they rubbed them out. I turn around and there was a gold marker far above the ground on a rock wall. Usually they are red and white.
I followed it and didn't have a problem finding any markers the rest of the day. I still had the non existent switch backs and false summits. Plenty of streams to cross: one I threw my boots across and the other was so wide and swift I had to get a big strong stick and use it to help me from being knocked over by the water.
Usually you see the village you are walking to in advance, but I didn't see Adishi until the last 10 minutes. The village seemed unoccupied as these villages do because not many people can live like this anymore. The only people I see are Zhora and her lover Kato. This is the Lesbian couple I will stay with.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Toilet Paper Luxeries
I thought Georgia would be like Bulgaria: great food and wine and both of Orthadox religion, etc. But it's really like being back in Equador/Peru 20 years ago. The toilet paper is like a brown paper bag only slightly softer and stretchy. Some places I stayed literally used pages of a book torn out. Outhouses are common. Some of the outhouses are over a lovely stream where the waste drops into. I wondered why the bigger rivers were so cloudy.
The trek I did involved staying at families' homes. I didn't need to bring a sleeping bag (although I did) or a tent or even food. Every family provided me with a huge breakfast and they would send me off with way too much for my lunch. They also provided dinner. I always had to tell them not to bring any more food. They would set the table with enough for at least six people. Every thing was homemade. It had to be because they are stuck there in the winter and can't go anywhere.
I told you the last road got a prize for the worst. Well, after my trek I took a mini van back to Mestia from Ushguli and it made the former road seem like a super highway. (Note picture of the bulls pulling out the van.)
Anyway every family made their own homemade cheese and yogurt, jams, and honey. All the bread was homemade.
The best family, and I shouldn't say that but they were a little more special, was the one I stayed at the first night in Zhabeshi. And getting to Zhabeshi was magical. During the whole trek I saw no one. This is not the season. I'm been ahead of the crowds this entire trip. I like being alone, being consumed by the rocks, streams, trees, wild flowers, wild life . I thought, "What have I done to have such a wonderful life!" I'm so lucky to be able to walk alone among all these snow capped mountains.
There was only one downer. I missed the markers and instead of going above this village I went through it. I had to ask directions to get back on the trail. The only people I saw were a group of guys involved in a dog fight. Something I didn't want to witness. Two big vicious shephards: one white and the other a German. I didn't want to look but when I briefly turned around the white one was on the ground, lifeless and the German had its teeth around it's neck.
When I arrive at the Naveriani family home the father, mother, and two sons were cutting and stacking wood. This is only June and they are already planning for the winter. It was still early so I hiked on to the Tviberi Glacier, although I couldn't get all the way there because there had been an avalance leaving a big hole that was impossible to go around. When I returned the mother had a salad, potatoes, the meat stuffed bread (chubadari) and cheese stuffed bread (hachapuri) ready for me.
The guys were still working so I went out and helped them stack. Their wood pile was a thing of beauty. I helped my friend Nancy stack wood and I'm sorry Nanc, but these guys had shaved strips of wood on the ground to keep the bottoms ones dry. The six cords were so closely packed it looked like a wall. They used skinned tree limbs to pack them in like a cell. I enjoyed helping them and they got a kick out of it. Later, after their dinner we shared shots of vodka and communicated with no language.
But I have to tell you about the sheets. The sheets were like the toilet paper. They were so rough I had bumps all over my skin the next morning. I decided they should market these sheets in the States as a night time exfoiant. The pillow felt like it was stuffed with pebbles.
Still I loved this family and the morning before I left Darijohn had freshly baked chubadari for me. She wanted me to take the whole round. I refused and only took a quarter. (Note picture of Mamuka and the rounds in fromt of him)I'm glad I took it because the next part of the hike was really difficult.
The trek I did involved staying at families' homes. I didn't need to bring a sleeping bag (although I did) or a tent or even food. Every family provided me with a huge breakfast and they would send me off with way too much for my lunch. They also provided dinner. I always had to tell them not to bring any more food. They would set the table with enough for at least six people. Every thing was homemade. It had to be because they are stuck there in the winter and can't go anywhere.
I told you the last road got a prize for the worst. Well, after my trek I took a mini van back to Mestia from Ushguli and it made the former road seem like a super highway. (Note picture of the bulls pulling out the van.)
Anyway every family made their own homemade cheese and yogurt, jams, and honey. All the bread was homemade.
The best family, and I shouldn't say that but they were a little more special, was the one I stayed at the first night in Zhabeshi. And getting to Zhabeshi was magical. During the whole trek I saw no one. This is not the season. I'm been ahead of the crowds this entire trip. I like being alone, being consumed by the rocks, streams, trees, wild flowers, wild life . I thought, "What have I done to have such a wonderful life!" I'm so lucky to be able to walk alone among all these snow capped mountains.
There was only one downer. I missed the markers and instead of going above this village I went through it. I had to ask directions to get back on the trail. The only people I saw were a group of guys involved in a dog fight. Something I didn't want to witness. Two big vicious shephards: one white and the other a German. I didn't want to look but when I briefly turned around the white one was on the ground, lifeless and the German had its teeth around it's neck.
When I arrive at the Naveriani family home the father, mother, and two sons were cutting and stacking wood. This is only June and they are already planning for the winter. It was still early so I hiked on to the Tviberi Glacier, although I couldn't get all the way there because there had been an avalance leaving a big hole that was impossible to go around. When I returned the mother had a salad, potatoes, the meat stuffed bread (chubadari) and cheese stuffed bread (hachapuri) ready for me.
The guys were still working so I went out and helped them stack. Their wood pile was a thing of beauty. I helped my friend Nancy stack wood and I'm sorry Nanc, but these guys had shaved strips of wood on the ground to keep the bottoms ones dry. The six cords were so closely packed it looked like a wall. They used skinned tree limbs to pack them in like a cell. I enjoyed helping them and they got a kick out of it. Later, after their dinner we shared shots of vodka and communicated with no language.
But I have to tell you about the sheets. The sheets were like the toilet paper. They were so rough I had bumps all over my skin the next morning. I decided they should market these sheets in the States as a night time exfoiant. The pillow felt like it was stuffed with pebbles.
Still I loved this family and the morning before I left Darijohn had freshly baked chubadari for me. She wanted me to take the whole round. I refused and only took a quarter. (Note picture of Mamuka and the rounds in fromt of him)I'm glad I took it because the next part of the hike was really difficult.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Police Encounters
I've seen the inside of five cells. The last time, because I kicked, spit, and shoved a police officer, I saw the city jail cell and the county cell. The assault charges were dropped and that officer was later fired. That was the only time that involved drinking.
I also saw the inside of a Thai cell with my Swedish lover. It was only for a couple of hours. We refused to pay the ferry owner some outrageous sum so they took us to the jail. The police were on our side and eventually got rid the owner and let us free.
In Canada I didn't have a green card and was working illegally. I once refused to pay some past ticket I got in Southern California. In Arcata, California that ticket caught up with me. I came away that time with a Humboldt County Jail T-shirt souvenier.
Needless to say I'm wary of the police. So here I am in Mestia. The evening before I took my first day hike I looked around to find the various trail heads I would be taking. One involved a security check point. Although it was 8 pm the guard wouldn't let me go an inch past him without my passport. Fine, I'll be ready tomorrow.
When I get to the security point the next morning I have my passport. Unlike last night no one was waiting outside. I should have just gone on but no I went inside to show them my passport and stamp. Everything seemed fine and I take off down the road. After probably 30 feet the two men come running out yelling something. I ignored them thinking they probably wanted to know where I was staying and if it was so important they would taken care of it when I was inside. I keep walking.
I have to follow the road for awhile and just before I get to the glacier run off, and four wheel drive material, a big man and a SUV pulls besides me and yells. He wants me to get in with him. What's with these guys wanting me to get in a vehicle with them? This happened in Batumi also, where this man followed me down the narrow streets, even backing up, until I ducked into a cafe to escape. Didn't their parents tell them that you don't ride with strangers? Of course you all know I don't take that advice but they don't know it.
We get in a screaming match. Two different languages saying things neither of us understand. He says, "Police". I say where is your badge? I'm not getting in anyway and he's wasting my time. I'm hiking today and no one is going to stop me. Shorena, at the trekking agency, okayed it and that's all I needed.
I say fuck a lot, along with fat slob, asshole, etc. I think fuck is another universal word. He's thoroughly pissed off but he doesn't get out of his SUV - probably knows he's too fat to keep up with me. Finally he yells, "bye bye" in a menacing way and leaves.
I'm shook but keep going faster. I thought at the glacier run off I'd be home free, at least, until I returned. Well, I'd deal with that later after I saw the glacier.
Up ahead I see a wooden bridge crossing the river. I know I'm coming to the fun part. I can see a narrow trail going up into the woods. Then suddenly I see a guy. He stops me. "Passport", he says. I show him but keep it in my hands. I'm not going to give it to him. Another guy appears. He had driven up in a four wheel drive just to get me. They both say "No".
I have an absolutely huge hissy fit, cussing big time. All the same previous words plus more involving the name Georgia. I start to leave. I stop and drink some water. I see my camera. I'm not done yet! I run back to the guy sitting in his 4WD and take his picture. "I'm telling everyone in the U.S. about you fucking assholes!" He makes a motion that he's just a small man taking orders. There's shame in his cherubic face. I got him now. I don't know what came over me. Have I been listening to Jimi Hendricks 'Machine Gun' or watching reruns of 'Apocalypse Now' too much?
Atttttattttt I suddenly have an imaginary machine gun. Atttttattttt. "Shoot me if you want to stop me." Atttttattttta I walk backwards towards the bridge and the other skinnier guy. I shoot at him, too. He says his first English words besides passport. "Go on, go on" he waves towards the bridge. For the first time I smile just a little smirk. Yes, I got my way. I can tell you a man would never get away with this. The trail is beautiful and the glacier fine but not as much fun as my scene.
On the return I'm paranoid. I unzip the legs on my pants to make them shorts and take off my baseball cap as if I could go incognito. At the wooden bridge I see the 4WD but the two guys are no where in site.
Just before a stream I see two men outside their SUV. I shoot at them with my imaginary gun. They put their hands out, not up, and shrug their shoulders. "Car stalled" I don't trust them. I'm sure they think I'm a nut case.
When I get to a military post I see the SUV that the big man was driving. The men there see me but do nothing. At the security check point no one is around. I feel like I've escaped.
Bozcaada, tiny as it is, is a metropolis compared to Mestia. Since this episode the police have eyed me.Everyone seems to eye me but maybe because I'm a tourist. Anyway I know the police think I'm crazy but I don't care. I've have now learned that they didn't think a woman should hike alone.
Next I have to tell you about my five day trek from Mestia to Ushguli.
I also saw the inside of a Thai cell with my Swedish lover. It was only for a couple of hours. We refused to pay the ferry owner some outrageous sum so they took us to the jail. The police were on our side and eventually got rid the owner and let us free.
In Canada I didn't have a green card and was working illegally. I once refused to pay some past ticket I got in Southern California. In Arcata, California that ticket caught up with me. I came away that time with a Humboldt County Jail T-shirt souvenier.
Needless to say I'm wary of the police. So here I am in Mestia. The evening before I took my first day hike I looked around to find the various trail heads I would be taking. One involved a security check point. Although it was 8 pm the guard wouldn't let me go an inch past him without my passport. Fine, I'll be ready tomorrow.
When I get to the security point the next morning I have my passport. Unlike last night no one was waiting outside. I should have just gone on but no I went inside to show them my passport and stamp. Everything seemed fine and I take off down the road. After probably 30 feet the two men come running out yelling something. I ignored them thinking they probably wanted to know where I was staying and if it was so important they would taken care of it when I was inside. I keep walking.
I have to follow the road for awhile and just before I get to the glacier run off, and four wheel drive material, a big man and a SUV pulls besides me and yells. He wants me to get in with him. What's with these guys wanting me to get in a vehicle with them? This happened in Batumi also, where this man followed me down the narrow streets, even backing up, until I ducked into a cafe to escape. Didn't their parents tell them that you don't ride with strangers? Of course you all know I don't take that advice but they don't know it.
We get in a screaming match. Two different languages saying things neither of us understand. He says, "Police". I say where is your badge? I'm not getting in anyway and he's wasting my time. I'm hiking today and no one is going to stop me. Shorena, at the trekking agency, okayed it and that's all I needed.
I say fuck a lot, along with fat slob, asshole, etc. I think fuck is another universal word. He's thoroughly pissed off but he doesn't get out of his SUV - probably knows he's too fat to keep up with me. Finally he yells, "bye bye" in a menacing way and leaves.
I'm shook but keep going faster. I thought at the glacier run off I'd be home free, at least, until I returned. Well, I'd deal with that later after I saw the glacier.
Up ahead I see a wooden bridge crossing the river. I know I'm coming to the fun part. I can see a narrow trail going up into the woods. Then suddenly I see a guy. He stops me. "Passport", he says. I show him but keep it in my hands. I'm not going to give it to him. Another guy appears. He had driven up in a four wheel drive just to get me. They both say "No".
I have an absolutely huge hissy fit, cussing big time. All the same previous words plus more involving the name Georgia. I start to leave. I stop and drink some water. I see my camera. I'm not done yet! I run back to the guy sitting in his 4WD and take his picture. "I'm telling everyone in the U.S. about you fucking assholes!" He makes a motion that he's just a small man taking orders. There's shame in his cherubic face. I got him now. I don't know what came over me. Have I been listening to Jimi Hendricks 'Machine Gun' or watching reruns of 'Apocalypse Now' too much?
Atttttattttt I suddenly have an imaginary machine gun. Atttttattttt. "Shoot me if you want to stop me." Atttttattttta I walk backwards towards the bridge and the other skinnier guy. I shoot at him, too. He says his first English words besides passport. "Go on, go on" he waves towards the bridge. For the first time I smile just a little smirk. Yes, I got my way. I can tell you a man would never get away with this. The trail is beautiful and the glacier fine but not as much fun as my scene.
On the return I'm paranoid. I unzip the legs on my pants to make them shorts and take off my baseball cap as if I could go incognito. At the wooden bridge I see the 4WD but the two guys are no where in site.
Just before a stream I see two men outside their SUV. I shoot at them with my imaginary gun. They put their hands out, not up, and shrug their shoulders. "Car stalled" I don't trust them. I'm sure they think I'm a nut case.
When I get to a military post I see the SUV that the big man was driving. The men there see me but do nothing. At the security check point no one is around. I feel like I've escaped.
Bozcaada, tiny as it is, is a metropolis compared to Mestia. Since this episode the police have eyed me.Everyone seems to eye me but maybe because I'm a tourist. Anyway I know the police think I'm crazy but I don't care. I've have now learned that they didn't think a woman should hike alone.
Next I have to tell you about my five day trek from Mestia to Ushguli.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Prize for Best Road
I need to mention the food portions here - enough for a trucker. The other morning in Batumi I looked around for a place to eat breakfast. Unlike Turkey there's not much of a selection, but I find a place that has a picture on the front door of the typical breakfast food eaten here. A longated bread with an egg in the middle.
The center of the bread is pulled apart and cheese is melted in it. A very soft fried egg is dropped in the middle. By just slightly stirring it it cooked all the way through and on top of that (I swear) was a half stick of butter. I quickly took it out before it melted. Still it was so large and rich I only ate a third and felt stuffed.
This morning I got up really early to get to the marshratka (mini van) stand before 7 am.I heard you needed to get there early because once they leave, and it all depends on the cargo or the amount of passengers, you'll miss it until the next day. From Kugdidi to Mestia the mountain village I was going to takes 5 to 6 hrs. There were two marshratkas waiting with no one in them. As soon as the two owners of each van saw me they started to fight about who was going to get me. I was not going to get involved and I could see neither was going to leave any time soon so I started to look for coffee.
Finding beer was no problem even at this hour. Don't they drink anything but beer? I walked towards the market and suddenly saw a woman with a tray full of the little tinto cups of strong coffee. "I'm so happy!" Because I'm so animated pointing at the cups some of the venders invited me to sit down - sit down with them on the venders' side. Then when they find out I'm American they wouldn't let me pay for either of the two cups I got. I'm also given candy. I made it understood to them that I write on the internet. Internet, like no problem, is an universal word. They tell me all their names and every person who passes name. I have a crowd around me.
Back to the van stand. The fight between the two men insues again. I decide to leave with whoever goes first. There's a semi-truck blocking both of them so again it won't be anytime soon. I go on the other side of the semi and sit on the curb where they can't see me. Right away another van pulls up and the owner says "Mestia". I hop in and we're off.
This ends up being the best one because not only does it leave immediately but half way there the driver, his two sisters and another passenger stops for food. It's 10:30. It's 10:30 and they get a table full of food: tomato based soup with beef, baskets of hearty bread, bread stuffed with meat and bread stuffed with cheese. I'm glad I didn't have breakfast. They won't let me pay for a thing.
I almost forgot to tell you about the road here. I have not been on a road this bad in 17 years, since Flores, Indonesia or maybe Equador or the road from Manuas, Brazil to Rio Vista. Some of the road was gravel - the best part- the rest was just one pothole connected to another pothole or mud where we slid from side to side and, of course, so narrow only one vehicle at a time could pass. The only difference is, amazingly, we didn't get stuck in the mud or have a flat tire. But there's always the return trip.
Starting tomorrow I'm going on two long day hikes then Sunday I leave for a five day trek. If you don't hear from me that's why. Hopefully you won't
The center of the bread is pulled apart and cheese is melted in it. A very soft fried egg is dropped in the middle. By just slightly stirring it it cooked all the way through and on top of that (I swear) was a half stick of butter. I quickly took it out before it melted. Still it was so large and rich I only ate a third and felt stuffed.
This morning I got up really early to get to the marshratka (mini van) stand before 7 am.I heard you needed to get there early because once they leave, and it all depends on the cargo or the amount of passengers, you'll miss it until the next day. From Kugdidi to Mestia the mountain village I was going to takes 5 to 6 hrs. There were two marshratkas waiting with no one in them. As soon as the two owners of each van saw me they started to fight about who was going to get me. I was not going to get involved and I could see neither was going to leave any time soon so I started to look for coffee.
Finding beer was no problem even at this hour. Don't they drink anything but beer? I walked towards the market and suddenly saw a woman with a tray full of the little tinto cups of strong coffee. "I'm so happy!" Because I'm so animated pointing at the cups some of the venders invited me to sit down - sit down with them on the venders' side. Then when they find out I'm American they wouldn't let me pay for either of the two cups I got. I'm also given candy. I made it understood to them that I write on the internet. Internet, like no problem, is an universal word. They tell me all their names and every person who passes name. I have a crowd around me.
Back to the van stand. The fight between the two men insues again. I decide to leave with whoever goes first. There's a semi-truck blocking both of them so again it won't be anytime soon. I go on the other side of the semi and sit on the curb where they can't see me. Right away another van pulls up and the owner says "Mestia". I hop in and we're off.
This ends up being the best one because not only does it leave immediately but half way there the driver, his two sisters and another passenger stops for food. It's 10:30. It's 10:30 and they get a table full of food: tomato based soup with beef, baskets of hearty bread, bread stuffed with meat and bread stuffed with cheese. I'm glad I didn't have breakfast. They won't let me pay for a thing.
I almost forgot to tell you about the road here. I have not been on a road this bad in 17 years, since Flores, Indonesia or maybe Equador or the road from Manuas, Brazil to Rio Vista. Some of the road was gravel - the best part- the rest was just one pothole connected to another pothole or mud where we slid from side to side and, of course, so narrow only one vehicle at a time could pass. The only difference is, amazingly, we didn't get stuck in the mud or have a flat tire. But there's always the return trip.
Starting tomorrow I'm going on two long day hikes then Sunday I leave for a five day trek. If you don't hear from me that's why. Hopefully you won't
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Language Lesson
After the preliminaries (internet and beer) I go to a pharmarcy to get some contact solution. The guy that works there speaks perfect English. He takes me to the restaurant I was looking for and would have never found on my own. You know one of the reasons I came to Georgia beside the trekking, which is suppose to be impossibly beautiful, was for the food and the wine. How could a land locked country have great food? Well they have pork and I love pork. Don't tell Emino my lover which BTW I will return to see. He's a non practicing Moslem but has never eatten pork and won't now. More on that later.
Restaurant Diaroni has a romantic cellar like atmosphere. It has a wine list full of Georgian wines. The best ones only come by the bottle but the owner opens one for me. Delicious. I had another cucumber salad. Big deal you say. It was like last night's which I thought was fabulous but this time, besides the usual plus herbs, it came in a walnut dressing. Oh god! And the braised pork so tender so little fat and what I thought was an Argentine chimichurri sauce was actually a green plum sauce. I'm then given a Georgian grappa and a perfect, I mean a perfect, expresso with milk. Those of you who know espresso know there should be a layer of creama on top - not cream but espresso cream.
To top it off I'm given a language lesson. There are some words I will never be able to say, too much 'R' rolling but now I know how to say: thank you, hello, how are you, I'm fine. This will be a tremendous help in finding my way - Ha!
Yes maybe I shouldn't say but Lisa in Bozcaada wants me to work for her and Emino wants me to live with him indefinitely. I probably won't be coming back as planned. If Nick and Kathy are reading this I'll let you know.
Tommorow I head to the mountains (Svaneti) for trekking.
Restaurant Diaroni has a romantic cellar like atmosphere. It has a wine list full of Georgian wines. The best ones only come by the bottle but the owner opens one for me. Delicious. I had another cucumber salad. Big deal you say. It was like last night's which I thought was fabulous but this time, besides the usual plus herbs, it came in a walnut dressing. Oh god! And the braised pork so tender so little fat and what I thought was an Argentine chimichurri sauce was actually a green plum sauce. I'm then given a Georgian grappa and a perfect, I mean a perfect, expresso with milk. Those of you who know espresso know there should be a layer of creama on top - not cream but espresso cream.
To top it off I'm given a language lesson. There are some words I will never be able to say, too much 'R' rolling but now I know how to say: thank you, hello, how are you, I'm fine. This will be a tremendous help in finding my way - Ha!
Yes maybe I shouldn't say but Lisa in Bozcaada wants me to work for her and Emino wants me to live with him indefinitely. I probably won't be coming back as planned. If Nick and Kathy are reading this I'll let you know.
Tommorow I head to the mountains (Svaneti) for trekking.
Now I'm Traveling
This morning I went for a swim in the Black Sea. You know I love the water but part of me also wants to show off. You probably don't believe me but I have only seen one other person since this trip swim as well as me - a month ago and I'm sure it was another tourist. Everyone else swims with their heads up. Typically I go way out, way way out and typically some guy tries to go as far as me. Forget it there's no way they can go as far when they swim like a dog. I love it!
After my swim I take a small van, which is called a marshratka, from Batumi, where I've been the last couple of days, to Kugdidi. The ride reminded me of the one I took in Darjeeling, India to a trailhead. I took a trek there so I could see Mt. Everest. Even though I did the Anapurna circuit I was not able to see Everest from that route.
Anyway just like that little bus this bus rocked like one of those old wooden roller coasters. Rock and jerk. On the Darjeeling bus the driver played 'Mr. Soul' from Buffalo Springfield. As I was standing, because the bus was packed, I could dance to the jerkiness. On this marshratka I could rock in the back to my I-pod where no one could see me. Even if they saw me they wouldn't notice since we were rocking and jerking all over the place.
When we got to Kugdidi I walked in every direction possible because of the limited information I was given. Well, mostly because I couldn't correctly pronounce the name of the hotel or the street I was looking for.
Finally I found the hotel but they acted like they didn't know what I wanted. Then no one could seem to find the keys to any of the dingy empty rooms. They wanted 50 gel. No! That's too much. I started to leave and they stopped me. I got it for 40 gel, which is about $25
After my swim I take a small van, which is called a marshratka, from Batumi, where I've been the last couple of days, to Kugdidi. The ride reminded me of the one I took in Darjeeling, India to a trailhead. I took a trek there so I could see Mt. Everest. Even though I did the Anapurna circuit I was not able to see Everest from that route.
Anyway just like that little bus this bus rocked like one of those old wooden roller coasters. Rock and jerk. On the Darjeeling bus the driver played 'Mr. Soul' from Buffalo Springfield. As I was standing, because the bus was packed, I could dance to the jerkiness. On this marshratka I could rock in the back to my I-pod where no one could see me. Even if they saw me they wouldn't notice since we were rocking and jerking all over the place.
When we got to Kugdidi I walked in every direction possible because of the limited information I was given. Well, mostly because I couldn't correctly pronounce the name of the hotel or the street I was looking for.
Finally I found the hotel but they acted like they didn't know what I wanted. Then no one could seem to find the keys to any of the dingy empty rooms. They wanted 50 gel. No! That's too much. I started to leave and they stopped me. I got it for 40 gel, which is about $25
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
English Please
The closer I got to Georgia the less English I heard. From Amasya I went to Giresun on the Black Sea. Because of the Turkish I've learned I don't have a problem getting around. I know how to ask directions and get what I want. I also know how to switch the computer from Turkish to English which is really important, because they definitely don't how to do it here in Giresun.
Usually when I arrive to a new place the first place I go is the internet cafe then I want a beer - nothing new here. I'm shown a hip place. It's 8 pm and I'm told a band will start at 10 pm in the meantime I have a gathering of young men surrounding me. My pleasantries in Turkish can only go so far: my name/your name, how are you, where I was yesterday, where I'll go tomorrow and that I like Turkey. The owner of the bar is about my age and has a collection of early 70's music: Cream, Janis Joplan, Pink Floyd, Led Zepland (sp). He plays this as I sit there. I think the young men would prefer something newer so I pass around my I-pod: Artic Monkeys, Ramones, Pixies but what they really like is X. BTW whatever happen to Xenene (sp) and John Doe? I guess I can Google them but maybe someone else might know.
I'm really hungry, especially after the beer and smoking cigs and nargile (water pipe). I wanted an apple flavored nargile, but they didn't have any. Since I'm in cherry territory I ask for cherry. It was like smoking cough syrup. They didn't want me to leave until one of their friends came that spoke English. I already waited for one of their friends to arrive but he didn't speak anymore English than I spoke Turkish. I told them I'd come back after dinner. I should have but I was too tired - another Turkish word I know.
So I thought that was frustrating, but now I'm in Georgia. Even though I caught the bus in Turkey I knew immediately something was different. The bus I catch is NOT a typical Turkish bus. There are no stewards wearing ties and passing out tea, coffee, juice or snacks, no women wearing head scarves, men are sitting next to women, the bus is dirty, people are smoking, the back of the bus is packed with boxes, luggage and a bicycle.
I can't listen to my I-pod because it has to compete with the really loud music and then the dumbest video about this man who never stops grinning with special powers but kind of acts like Mr. Bean. Anyone unfortunate enough to see any of his shows will know what I mean. The other passengers love it.
I have been through countless border crossing but this had to be the most disorganized, chaotic one. Some of the boxes and luggage were checked and some of it wasn't. If you didn't want customs to look through your luggage your stuff could have easily slipped through. My pack wasn't checked but my passport was scrutinized so much I didn't think they were going to let me in.
I brought a Russian phrase book but no one speaks Russian here, not that it matters because I never opened it until I went for dinner and realized it was useless. No one, absolutely no one speaks English here. No one on the bus spoke English or Turkish because they were all Georgian. Fortunately the streets are written in both Cyrillic and whatever alphabet we use. Everything else is gibberish along with what I hear. I do have a map so I how to get to the recommended restaurant. But I haven't a clue what I'm ordering. It's not bad. I get a tomato, cucumber, onion salad and these huge dumplings filled with ground pork.
I had a beer first - more on that later. After dinner I decide I'd like a shot of vodka, knowing that it's very popular here. "Vodka," I say. I'm brought a water glass size. What! I can't possibly drink all that unless I'm carried back to my hotel. I motion crawling on the floor. And then with my thumb and forefinger I make the small amount I want. They look at me strangely and don't do anything. So I go to the bar and point to the bottle and a shot glass. They all start laughing. They had given me water. Vodka is the word for water. We all giggling over this everytime we looked at each other.
Now I'd like an ice cream or some other sweet. Either is very easily found in Turkey, but not here. Every time I saw what looked like an ice cream stand it was a beer stand. They are everywhere, but you can't be squeamish about using the communal glass.
Usually when I arrive to a new place the first place I go is the internet cafe then I want a beer - nothing new here. I'm shown a hip place. It's 8 pm and I'm told a band will start at 10 pm in the meantime I have a gathering of young men surrounding me. My pleasantries in Turkish can only go so far: my name/your name, how are you, where I was yesterday, where I'll go tomorrow and that I like Turkey. The owner of the bar is about my age and has a collection of early 70's music: Cream, Janis Joplan, Pink Floyd, Led Zepland (sp). He plays this as I sit there. I think the young men would prefer something newer so I pass around my I-pod: Artic Monkeys, Ramones, Pixies but what they really like is X. BTW whatever happen to Xenene (sp) and John Doe? I guess I can Google them but maybe someone else might know.
I'm really hungry, especially after the beer and smoking cigs and nargile (water pipe). I wanted an apple flavored nargile, but they didn't have any. Since I'm in cherry territory I ask for cherry. It was like smoking cough syrup. They didn't want me to leave until one of their friends came that spoke English. I already waited for one of their friends to arrive but he didn't speak anymore English than I spoke Turkish. I told them I'd come back after dinner. I should have but I was too tired - another Turkish word I know.
So I thought that was frustrating, but now I'm in Georgia. Even though I caught the bus in Turkey I knew immediately something was different. The bus I catch is NOT a typical Turkish bus. There are no stewards wearing ties and passing out tea, coffee, juice or snacks, no women wearing head scarves, men are sitting next to women, the bus is dirty, people are smoking, the back of the bus is packed with boxes, luggage and a bicycle.
I can't listen to my I-pod because it has to compete with the really loud music and then the dumbest video about this man who never stops grinning with special powers but kind of acts like Mr. Bean. Anyone unfortunate enough to see any of his shows will know what I mean. The other passengers love it.
I have been through countless border crossing but this had to be the most disorganized, chaotic one. Some of the boxes and luggage were checked and some of it wasn't. If you didn't want customs to look through your luggage your stuff could have easily slipped through. My pack wasn't checked but my passport was scrutinized so much I didn't think they were going to let me in.
I brought a Russian phrase book but no one speaks Russian here, not that it matters because I never opened it until I went for dinner and realized it was useless. No one, absolutely no one speaks English here. No one on the bus spoke English or Turkish because they were all Georgian. Fortunately the streets are written in both Cyrillic and whatever alphabet we use. Everything else is gibberish along with what I hear. I do have a map so I how to get to the recommended restaurant. But I haven't a clue what I'm ordering. It's not bad. I get a tomato, cucumber, onion salad and these huge dumplings filled with ground pork.
I had a beer first - more on that later. After dinner I decide I'd like a shot of vodka, knowing that it's very popular here. "Vodka," I say. I'm brought a water glass size. What! I can't possibly drink all that unless I'm carried back to my hotel. I motion crawling on the floor. And then with my thumb and forefinger I make the small amount I want. They look at me strangely and don't do anything. So I go to the bar and point to the bottle and a shot glass. They all start laughing. They had given me water. Vodka is the word for water. We all giggling over this everytime we looked at each other.
Now I'd like an ice cream or some other sweet. Either is very easily found in Turkey, but not here. Every time I saw what looked like an ice cream stand it was a beer stand. They are everywhere, but you can't be squeamish about using the communal glass.
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