The rough road to Tbilisi

We are now in Tbilisi, Georgia and what a great couple of days we’ve had. In Andy P’s last blog he left us stranded on the Turkish/Georgian border somewhere after midnight but in good company with some fellow ralliers, a trombone and a case of Fosters. The Fosters and trombone kept us amused for an hour or so and even the patrolling Turkish police joined in the fun by letting off little blasts on their police car siren. But as time wore on the party faded and we crawled yard by yard towards Georgia, time in which to reflect on the previous day’s events and one in particular. With Andy P driving, a local car had pulled alongside and the driver had cheerfully shouted across at us.

‘What did he say?’ Andy P asked me urgently.

I looked at him with what I can only imagine was a somewhat condescending stare.

‘I have no idea Andy,’ I replied with all the dignity I could muster, ‘because unless I am seriously mistaken I’m fairly certain he was speaking Turkish.’

Perhaps you had to have been there to see the funny side of it.

When we finally reached the border we passed quickly through passport and customs control and entered into Georgia a little after 6 am. Georgian customs asked us to open Bluebell’s boot but when the guy saw the amount of stuff we had crammed in his eyes sort of glazed over at the prospect of searching through that lot and over-running his shift, and so he just motioned to close the boot again and presumably never darken his door again.

By now we were in desperate need of a coffee so I asked some Georgians who looked a little like Mafia bosses where we could get coffee and change money. They pointed to a café but said we should wait to change money further into Georgia because the exchange rate would be much better and then promptly gave us five Georgian ‘Lari’ to get two coffees. The kindness of strangers, even those in the Mafia, has been a feature of our trip so far and long may it continue.

We headed off into Georgia and decided to take a more circuitous route to Tbilisi that took us into the mountains so that we could get a better feel for the place. It was still marked on the map as a main road so we were confident it would only take an hour or so longer. We stopped in a little village for coffee and there was an elderly lady cooking what looked like large flat dough pancakey thingies. We bought one which made her very happy and they were quite delicious, like donuts without the sugar. By then some other Georgians had arrived and we got talking to one of them and when we ordered two more donuty things he insisted on paying the woman for all three. I began to think that we must look poor and in need (I have been accused of this plenty of times in the past, mainly by my kids – colleagues and friends are usually too kind), especially when we then tried to buy a couple of apples from a nearby stallholder who also insisted on giving them to us.

As we went further along the road the tarmac disappeared as did the road signs. By now the road was made of stone with huge ruts and protruding boulders and dusty in the heat. We began to climb up into the mountains, the scenery was spectacular, green hills with lots of trees and clear blue skies. Travelling was very slow now, sometimes five miles an hour or less as we crawled along, not wanting to damage Bluebell’s suspension and fairly convinced we were travelling the wrong way. But every now and then we stopped when we found someone at the side of the road and showed them on the map where we wanted to go and every time they just pointed ahead. (I have experience of this concept too whereby people who have no idea what you’re saying or what you want just agree with what they think you want to hear. It happens to me in the UK too — I think I may have a permanently simple look on my face).

When we eventually reached the summit we felt like we were at the top of the world (about 7000 feet in reality by why let the truth spoil a good story), and it was then just a case of making our way done the other side on an equally bad road. It took us five hours to travel about 60 miles and when we finally pulled into the town we were looking for, it was after six in the evening. We were rewarded with the luxury of the Royal Palace hotel, four star accommodation for the price of £15 each. After a shower to wash away the dust from all those crevices that have developed over the years, Andy P set to work on TWO letters of complaint. One to the Georgian roads department in which I believe he stress the importance of upkeep and sufficient road signage, and one to the publisher of the map (that I had bought) demanding his (my) money back. Good luck with both of those Andy.

Georgian children who live in the mountains

Inquisitive cow on the descent from the summit

Next day (yesterday) it was a smooth fast drive along great roads to Tbilisi. Again we stopped off on the way to wander round a tiny market and take some pictures and I made ‘friends’ with some Georgian guys who invited me into the back of their van and gave me a good measure of vodka. Stopping and meandering is certainly the way to really experience and get a feel for the place and both of us are smitten with Georgia.

Having a drink with my long lost Georgian friends

Tbilisi is fantastic. We quite by chance found a lovely friendly guest house on the edge of the old town of Tbilisi and the landlady’s 16 year old daughter Marium speaks good English and took us on a walking tour of the city. It is wonderful, very clean and peaceful and full of kind and friendly people. Marium showed us a little Georgian restaurant and wrote down a list of things that we were to try. When we went there later we gave them the list and there were a couple of things they didn’t have and so we asked them to replace them with something of their choice. They explained it would all come to 40 Lari which is about 13 quid. At this Andy P expressed his serious concern that we had perhaps not ordered enough. His fears were allayed when they first brought out what appeared to be a salad for a wedding party and about three loaves of cut up bread. When all the food arrived we had no idea what most of it was but we did manage to work out that there was a lamb (lamb gristle in fact!) dish, and two chicken ones, plus another flat bread thing with cheese. It wasn’t ‘cordon bleu’ but it was very tasty and to our shame we couldn’t possibly finish it all though we had a damn good try.

Georgia and Tbilisi are a revelation to us. So many great places in the world to see about which in our everyday lives we know nothing. Bring on Azerbaijan.