Go west!

The morning broke when my roomie woke and got up. I laid in bed for half an hour more. Just for good measure. Had been sitting yesterday till late talking to some Israelis that had arrived. One of them stayed in my dorm. He was getting up early to go to Gori.
I got up, trying to figure out where I wanted to go. So many places, so little time. In the end I settled for Borjomi. A small town of around 13000 people in between mountains west of Tblisi. I had my breakfast, payed Dodo and left for Didube. One last ride on the Metro. The Metro was packed. Monday rush. Now the expert on Didube, I walked straight to the "other side" and started looking for Borjomi. Still struggling with the local alphabet, I had to ask in the end. And a guy guided me to a marschrutka (I finally learned the name) that had some local letters on it. "Borjomi!" he said and pointed. The sign on the marschrutka was nowhere near what I was looking for. I realized that nobody was going to Borjomi ONLY. They were going other places. I dropped my bag into the seat and looked at my watch. Some time before it left, so I jogged off to find some snack for the ride. Half an hour later, we were off. For about five minutes. Then we stopped. They were obviously waiting for someone. The driver waving his hands into the air and speaking on the phone. After about 20 minutes, some people arrived and jam-packed the marschrutka. Me crammed up against the wall. Oh well, only 2.5 hours to go...
Many of the guys obviously knew each other. And beers came out. And every half hour, the driver had to stop so they could buy more beer. So after some stops, the spirit were high and so were their voices. I just sat there, drinking my water. Looking at the scenery. And trying to estimate how many near-death experiences I had during the drive.
On our way out of Tblisi, I thought about how they were driving, wondering how many crashed per day. Just as I thought of this, I heard gasping in the car. I looked forward, and one car was sliding around with its rear end smashed into pieces, and the other had a smashed front. He had rear-ended the other car. As we drove past, the guys started laughing and cheering. The only reason our driver slowed down was when he saw a police car. The rest of the trip, he drove like a maniac.
We finished the 2.5 hour drive in just under 2 hours. And suddenly, out of the valley, a small town center appeared. I got off at the bus station, got my gear on my back and headed into town. I had no idea where anything was, so I just strolled along the road, looking for anything resembling a hotel. I passed the suspension-bridge dividing the north and south part of the town. On the other side, I saw a sign for a hotel. I went in and asked the landlady for the price. 80 lari per night. A bit too pricey for el-cheapo me, so I walked on. Outside of the hotel, a guy approached me with a big smile and a stream of words in Russian. Until he realized I didn't understand anything. Then he became a bit more uncertain and stuttered the ten English words he knew.
"You hotel?"
"Yes"
"Aaaaaaa. Cheap!"
"Ok?"
"Aaaaaaa. Home!"
"Ok? Price?"
"Price....aaaa....20 lari!"
"Per night?"
"Aaaaaaa. Yes! Lunch 5 lari! You know after ZZZZZZZ, you lunch!"
"You mean breakfast?"
"Yehehehes!"
Then he started talking to another guy, and they were obviously discussing me. Then the other guy waved his finger in a "no-no" movement. The first guy smiled at me.
"Hehehe. Ok. Eeeeee...No lunch! Problem?"
"No, fine by me!"
"Ok! We go!"
Then they led me into a doorway that looked like it hadn't been painted since Stalin ruled. The up some stairs that were clinging to the walls for their bare life. And then into a large room with three beds. The room was clean. I said "Ok!". The manager changed the beds while he was speaking about the routines and keys and how to turn on the hot water and such. All in perfectly incomprehensible Russian. I just nodded and pretended I understood half of what he was saying. I think the only word I understood was bolsjoi (big). He was talking about which key was for which lock. The big one was for the door to my room.
After I had settled in the room, I pulled out my camera and headed into town again. When walking down the hallway, I passed a kitchen where an older guy sat drinking his beer. I greeted him briefly as I passed. Later I realized that it was the guy who actually lived there with his wife... A true "homestay".
The walk from my ...eee... homestay to the bus station took about 15 minutes. Including stops to take photos. So the town isn't exactly the biggest in this country. But it is a nice little town. With rising mountains dressed in thick forest. It is possible to hike for days from here. But I am not here for hiking. So I think I will just enjoy the relative peace and quiet for a couple of days.
Why Borjomi? This is the home of the "Love-it-or-by-God-this-tastes-like-shait"-mineral water famous throughout the Soviet empire in the old days. It was said to be good for your health. It contains a lot of minerals that gives it a sour-salty taste. I haven't tasted it yet. But come tomorrow, I will go to the Borjomi museum and hopefully, learn some more about it, before I try it.
I tried finding a restaurant or cafe nearby. And I found one next door to my ...eeee... homestay. Down in the cellar. Complete with wet cellar smell. The waitress gave me a menu. Sporting English names for the different courses. My eyes settled on "meat coquettes" and "tried potatoes". I wondered who had tried the potatoes. But gave it a go. Then she asked "Bread?". I thought "why not" and nodded. A few minutes later she came walking with a mountain of bread on a plate. I thought "Oh crap. I hope that is for the family sitting behind me." It was for me. I looked at the mountain a bit disheartened and hoped the rest of the meal was in smaller portions. It was.
A delicious meal consisting of some cigar-shaped minced meat with lots of spices, and a side dish of "tried" potatoes. I was full. And so was the plate with bread. I left it. I signalled the waitress for the bill. She came with a torn off piece of paper with the number 12 written on it. I gave her a 20-lari note. She left the restaurant to get change. After she came back, I left a 2 lari tip and the restaurant. Back at the hotel I took off my sandals and discovered why it was so painful to walk. I big blister had burst and was now bleeding... Some bandaid fixed that.
Here are some pictures from todays walk through Borjomi. Enjoy!

The entrance to my hotel

My room is above the yellow sign. The hotel to the left is where I asked for the price. Seems like it was the same rooms, but different entrances...

View from my room while writing this blog

Off the main street

Why open the box check the meter when a blowtorch can make a peeping hole instead?

Colourful apartment block standing on stilts...

Suspension bridge separating north and south Borjomi

Taxi at the bus station

Waiting room at the bus station

Street vendors

Shops by the bus station

Cows on the suspention bridge. Easiest way for them to cross too.

Restaurant in the cellar

The meal

The bill

I thought I felt something...

Stalin and me

I woke up today at around 10.30. Still drowsy. Got into the shower that changed from icy cold to scorching hot and back in the matter of seconds and at its own will. It seemed. So my gasping and moaning was part of the experience. After a quick breakfast where I spoke to a German lady, who just came here to wash her clothes, I went back to bed. After half an hour I decided that staying in bed all morning was not what I wanted to do with my life, so I got up. Grabbed my guidebook and read up on possibilities for the new day.
After a long day of walking through Tblisi yesterday, I decided to head north-west to the little town of Gori. But to get there, I had to take a bus or Mmarschherherh....something...something... Or minibus as we say in English. I had read in the guidebook that the Mmmm...something left from the Didube bus-station 4 km north of the train station. So I needed to take the metro to get there. Mmmmm... Metro! A new experience! Love it!
I looked for the M-sign, but didn't find any, so I decided to just walk into the biggest opening I could find. The unmistakable smell filled my nostrils. Mmmmm. Wet cellar. The sweet smell of subway. I headed for the escalator. I knew that it would cost 0.4 lari to take the sub, but didn't find any slot to put the coins. A uniformed lady came up to me. "Biljeta?" I said in an attempt to sound Russian. "Caad!" she said and rushed me to a counter. I put one lari at the counter. The lady behind the counter put three lari on the counter. Ok. Pay one, get three back? Before I realized she was trying to explain to "stupid western tourist" that I had to pay 3 lari for the card. Ah! I added two lari, and got the electronic card. Back to the gates. They gave off a sound of pure pleasure as I swiped the card across the reader, and turned green in excitement and let me through.
A long escalator next. The steps was far from stable and I stood there feeling my feet wobbling underneath me. Wooooo... I came down, feet first. And luckily, the signs where in both Georgian and "western". Didube to the left. Sniffing in the wet cellar smell, I felt a strong breeze as the train came rushing towards us with the familiar "Crash! Bang! RATTLEANG! screeeeeEEEEEEE(...muted to spare reader's ears...)EEEEEECH!". The doors flung open with a bang and everyone rushed in, while people on board tried to swim through the crowd to get out before the doors closed.
I hung in a steel bar as the train rattled its way through the tunnels. After a few stations "Didube!" sounded from the speakers. I got off. Looked around and immediately something familiar caught my eyes. A bustling collection of vans, food stalls, buses, noise, dust and smoke. I walked down throught the tunnels and out into an explosion of sound. The smell! Ah! The sweet smell of bus station. Unburnt fuel, open sewer, sweat and a slight hint of fear. I felt at home. This is what I am used to when travelling.
I hoped that the buses or minibuses would display destinations in latin letters. But of course none of them did. Another challenge. I got out my guide book and looked at Gori written in Georgian. A baby's head, two hearts and an upside down U. That's Gori : გორი
I searched high and low for anything that looked remotely like those letters. None where to be found. I started asking around. One guy looked at me as if I was stupid. Another didn't speak English, and the third said "On da odder side". But of course. I walked through the gigantic marketplace, with a roof that was about 5 inches too low for me, so I had to bow down the whole time. At the other side, I started looking for anything going to Gori. Finally, I saw a ma....something with "Gori" written on the front. How easy was that? It didn't appear to be going anywhere anytime soon, so I walked around. Found a shop where they sold some breadthingy with cheese inside. Bought one. When I walked back, the ma...something was heading out. I ran after it and banged on the side. They stopped and let me on. Ok. Stupid tourist thing of the day.
An hour later we entered Gori. I had no idea where I was getting off. So I just jumped ship at a convenient point and payed the driver 4 Lari (2 Euros). Walked back where I had spotted a large building when driving through the city.
So, why did I go to this godforsaken place in the world? Because Iosef Vissarionovitsj Dzjugasjvili or Josef Stalin, as most people know him, was born there. We may regard him as a dictator and despot. But in Georgia, he is still revered as a great leader. I wanted to see the big museum they have in his honor.
I soon found that the big building was a government building, of course. And that it lay on Stalin Avenue. I checked the guide, and the museum was, again of course, on the Stalin Avenue. I walked a few hundred meters. And a big building appeared on the left. I walked towards it, and the first thing that met me, was a large gaping hole. ("They stole the giant statue during one night!", Dodo told me later. Ooooki!) After the large gaping hole was the "shrine". The house where Stalin spent his first four years had become a shrine. A large marble building erected around it. Unlike the "humble beginnings of Great Leader" in North Korea, this WAS actually where Stalin spent his first years.
I entered the gigantic building and was pointed towards the ticket office. 15 Lari later, I was appointed a guide. He took me through the museum and told me of how great Stalin was, and how many wonderful things he had done. And how many people he killed, and should have killed. My replies consisted mostly of "Oh!"'s and "Right!"'s. Then an unexpected turn when he took me to the "execution room". "Ze nechative side!". He told about how many hundred thousand people where shot because they disagreed with Stalin. I guess we will never hear the guides in North Korea say anything of sorts...
Then I was taken to the house and I could take some pictures of the room his father rented when Josef was a child. And then to his private train carriage. "Mahogany!". "Venetian mirror!". "His private room with bathroom to the left!".Like I have written before. No matter the political system, the elite will always ride first class.
After finishing the tour, I had the new task of finding the bus station in Gori. I located the place I jumped ship, and kept on going in the direction my minibus had left. Finally, after passing a zillion small mobile phone shops, I found a roundabout (more like a ellipseabout) where there was a large number of ma...somethings and taxis parked. I started searching for Tblisi. A guy came up to me and asked me where I was going. "Tblisi" I said. "5 Lari! Share taxi!". I thought why not, and stood there for a few seconds before I asked him where the taxi was. He pointed halfhearted in one direction. Then suddenly a guy came up to him and started arguing with him. Then another. And soon the two of them stood in front of me, in spitting range of each other, screaming, yelling and waving arms. I stood there watching them for a while before I started thinking that the only thing missing in this picture was popcorn and a soda. But before I could locate any, they walked off. Continuing the yelling and screaming and handwaving. I stood there, watching them walk off and thought "Soooo, that happened..."
Second attempt. I asked a taxi driver where I could find ma...something for Tblisi. He pointed me to the other side of the road. After dodging a few speeding cars, I was safely on the other side. Only to find that the ma...somethings for Tblisi was on the other side. Another run across the street. Finally, I found a ma...something leaving for Tblisi. But not until it was almost full. Sitting there in the heat. Feeling the deodorant screaming for mercy as sweat poured out of me and into my shirt. I am sure the girl sitting next to me, speaking softly into her cell, were talking to her friend about the dead horse she had to sit next to. After what seemed to be an eternity, we were on our way.
An hour later, we were back at Didube. I jumped on the metro and headed back to my hotel.
More people have arrived at Dodo's. But tomorrow, I will be leaving. If Dodo allows me to... I have asked her several times to pay, but she always says "You go?" "Yes.Sadly." "Oh!" And then she changes the subject. Oh well. She must like me.
But now, the mosquitoes are really annoying me. So I'll stop for today...
Here are some images from today's trip to Gori.

Government building

Off the main street

Seemed like this building was about to fall down.

Stalin Avenue. Numbers increased on one side of the street and decreased on the other...

"I thought I left the statue here last night!"

The shrine around the house where Stalin lived the first few years.

The man

And his train

His bathroom

And his bed

Conference room

And his chair off to the back

Mahogany and Venetian mirrors all the way 

The one-room apartment his parents rented

Like all communist leaders, he was a natural. Even as a child, he inspired his peers.

Authentic conference group

Stalins' death mask. Six where made, this was no. 6.

Josef as 14 year old, with his parents on the side

The executioner room

Prison cell

Inside the museum

Football stadium?

This station only works at certain times.

Taking it easy in Tblisi

Finally, I was on my way. Slightly delayed from Gardermoen, the small Embraer 170 took to the sky. I was offered a muffin as onboard snack, but declined. Had eaten enough sweets that day. It was friday, and we always have sweets at work on friday. I knew that I would be landing in Tblisi very early in the morning, so I tried to sleep instead.
We landed on time in Tallin. I walked into the terminal building and tried to figure out where I was going. This was easier said than done. On one info-board, it said gate 13, on another, the gate wasn't showing. On my boarding pass, it said gate 11... After some reading of the list of flights, it looked to me as if all flights in my direction left from gates 10-14, which was through passport control. Which made sense, in a way.
It is very easy to understand why Norwegian passports are popular among criminals. Through more or less all passport controls I have passed, the officers barely look at my passport before they stamp it and wish me a nice stay. So too in Tallin. A couple in front of me had their passport scrutinized in every possible way. When I arrived, the lady barely opened it, looked at the picture, looked at me, smiled and waved me on.
On the other side, it became even more confusing. On one screen, it said gate 13, on another it didn't say anything. And then in changed to "Check in, gate 10-12". "What the hey?" There wasn't anybody around to ask, so I just wandered around between the gates, which, just for good measure, had no obvious system. But in the end, some people arrived at gate 13. Ready for boarding.
The plane landed in Tblisi after a more or less sleepless night travelling from Oslo. 04.05 in the morning, local time. The sun was far from up, and so was my brain. When I left the plane, some of the bags and suitcases was on the tarmac, and people picked them up. I stood there for a few seconds wondering what was going on. I asked one of the guys standing there what was going on. I got a blank look and a very informative "Yes!". And a smile.
Another guy speaking English came up to me saying "Not you! In the terminal!". I still have no idea what it was all about. But it might have been something about customs check. When I stood at the baggage claim, I read a small signs saying : "If your bag has a red tag, please contact the customs officers!". Predestined customs check. Neat. My bag didn't have a tag. Probably looked too boring.
I knew that the homestay I had opted for staying in, was closed until 6 am. So I tried to spend as much time in the airport as possible. But after 5 minutes, I had changed money and checked out the airport facilities. So I settled in a cafè, ordering a cheese sandwich. "Cheese toast!", the waitress corrected me. "Ok!" I said. "You may sit down now!" she said and smiled. I sat down, watching a guy climbing a small ladder in an attempt to switch on the telly. On top of the ladder he looked like he was about to fall down, but he caught the telly and his balance. The telly didn't work.
My cheese sandw...toast arrived. So did several other guys to try and fix the telly. After some heated debate, the telly worked again. Showing the arrival time of the 8 flights that were supposed to arrive that day (at least between 6 am and 5 pm). Not exactly a hot destination, one might be convinced to believe. The guys attention moved to the other telly. So did mine. After a few minutes they got it working. Showing music videos. At 5.45 I decided it would probably take 15 minutes to town, so the homestay landlady would be up. I walked outside and negotiated a price into town. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the taxi driver actually knew the address. I am not too used to this where I have traveled...
The guy in the taxi tried to speak to me, but he soon realized that I didn't speak any language he spoke. "Fuma?" he said, picking up a pack of cigarettes. I politely declied. "No fuma, candy!" he exclaimed and handed me a wrapped candy. I smiled and accepted the chewy candy. Chewing on a piece of candy while he tried his best to explain what the different sights where that be passed. "Polisi head!" he said and pointed to a glass object that I thought was some large piece of art. Wow! Ok! That was not expected. I noticed that he was "crossing" himself all the time. I tried to see if I could find any virgin statues, but saw none. So I concluded that it was just the way he drove. Maybe the virgin would provide us with safety. Then he exclaimed "Iglesia!", and I, in my ignorance, asked "Catholic?". "NO! Noooooooooooo!" he said and waved his hand! "Orthodox! OOORTHOOOODOOOOOX!". Ok...
After a few more sights ("Antenna", "Iglesia" etc) I realized that he was trying to speak Spanish. I speak "un poco espanol", so suddenly our conversation picked up a bit. He finally stopped outside a very inconspicuous gate with the words "Dodo" chalked on the front. The street was empty. I rang the bell, and Dodo (the little, old landlady, not the bird) opened up the gate with a big smile and a "Hello! Welcome!". She and the taxidriver exchanged some words before she closed the gate. "I see you want to sleep!" she said. "Yes, shall I check in now?" "No, no! You need sleep! I find a room for you to sleep!". She took me to a room. "I will check in later!" "No problem, young man! Just rest now!" I dropped my bags on the floor, hit the sack and fell asleep. 10.18, I woke up again. Dodo had gone into town. I was heading there myself. Wanted to take the city in, and take some photos. The weather was pleasant. Not too hot, nor humid. Just ok. I wandered around for a few hours, getting "lost". A perfect way to explore a city. Had a great time, taking lots of photos. Watching people. Looking at the houses in the old city. Walked up the steep and heartache-inducing steps to the Mother Georgia statue on one of the hills. I tried not to upset too much all the young couples standing in the path, kissing. Away from the prying eyes of other people, it seemed. They would be standing there, in hot embrace, kissing. Until they saw me. Then they would split up, look away and pretend like nothing had happened. I had to smile.
On the way down, a small church was open, so I snuck in and took a photo. It was dark, so I had to make a long exposure to see anything. Didn't come out too bad.
All in all, it was a good walk, and it was not until I sat down in a restaurant that I realized I had walked the whole day with my fly open. No wonder so many people smiled when they walked past me. Oh well. I don't mind being the entertainment of locals.
I have included some photos here. Enjoy! (Click on the images for larger version)

Dodo's homestay

Street life

Some government building

Linux fighter!

Giant bike artwork. Don't know what it is supposed to symbolize.

"Melting into the surroundings" just got a new meaning..

Giant statue in the middle of a roundabout.

Old Town, obviously...

Mother Georgia

She is big up close!

Some opted for the easy way up...

What the Mother of Georgia sees from her hill.

Small church on the way down

Inside the church

"Rustic, charming home for sale. In need of some upgrades."

Turkish tea after lunch.

Tblisian wall painting

The End

According to some people on the net, the world will come to an end on december 21'st this year. But that is not until the end of the year, so I have all the time in the world to travel before it happens. Sort of... So this year I will go to a total of 6 countries just to splurge.
This summer, I will go to four countries, three of which I haven't visited before. When I mention to people that one of those countries is Iran, some people go silent a few seconds before they utter a silent and sceptical "Oh!".
I have been wanting to go to Iran for several years, but other plans and some unrest in the country has rendered it impossible/impractical. But this year, I am definitely going.
My current plans are :
Flying to Tblisi in Georgia, travelling through Georgia and Armenia. Crossing the border into Iran. Taking the Trans-Asian Express from Tabriz to Ankara. Take the bus to Istanbul. Fly home.
All of this in three weeks. I would love to stay longer and explore each country more, but I need some vacation left for later travels this year. So it will be a short land-hopping trip. I still hope to get some sort of feel for each country.
I am looking forward to the train ride through Turkey. I love trains. Just sitting there, watching the countryside pass by. Stopping at small towns all over the place. Seeing people go about their business. It's an adventure in its own right.
I will try to write here as often as possible. And include a number of photos. It is always a problem trying to give a fair image, literally, of any place. I am not the best photographer, so I mostly take snaps worthy of a tourist. But I hope you will enjoy them all the same.
Welcome to My World!

Ragnar
Enthustiastic globetrotter