Midnight Train to Georgia

I left Turkey through the country's most remote border crossing, headed into the rarely-visited country of Georgia, a little place about half the size of, well, Georgia.

After a series of bus connections and hitching a ride in a private car, I finally ended up at the Turkey-Georgia border, which was little more than a few ramshackle buildings spread out over a field of wildflowers. Hours from the nearest large town and not served by public transportation, the border crossing is definitely the least-visited I've seen yet. In fact, I was the only one there. With a fresh exit stamp in my passport, the Turkish border guard opened the gate, but the Georgian guard was on a bathroom break, so for ten minutes I stood alone, stuck in the no-man's land between Turkey and Georgia. The Georgian border guard eventually returned, then had a look at my passport, came out of his booth, and swung his hand up high. I thought for a second he was going to hit me, but instead he shouted, "Welcome to Georgia! High five!"

Excited by the awesome first impression of the country, I was on a bus a few hours later headed toward Georgia's capital, Tbilisi. On the bus, I met a few great Georgian guys —Zura and Temo— who were eager to help me, and guided me all the way to the home stay I had arranged online, which would have been a rascal to find without their help. Later that night, I went out for dinner and drinks with Zura and Temo, who borrowed their parents car and drove me around to show me all the sights of their great city. Considering it is the capital of a very poor country formerly a part of the USSR, I was really surprised by how thriving Tbilisi seemed. The area where my home stay was located reminded me a bit of the gentrified parts of Brooklyn sans-hipsters (or, for that matter, black people), and the main downtown district was full of shops and restaurants, and had nice neighborhoods sprawling out from the main roads. I got the impression from Zura and Temo that people in Georgia are really proud of their country, and excited about its future. After a great tour of town, the guys took me out with Temo's brother-in-law for a huge dinner of Georgian specialties and a few rounds of beer. I was seriously humbled by the overwhelming hospitality shown by these guys. Here's a shot of Tbilisi's massive new cathedral, and then the guys with me at dinner later on that night:




The night was so fun, I called up Zura and Temo and we went out the next night for more great food. Georgian food is delicious, and is an interesting blend of a lot of different-tasting foods. I tried khinkali, massive dumplings filled with spiced meat, mtsvadi, roasted beef topped with an incredible savory tomato sauce, and khachapuri, a cottage-cheese filled breaded pie. Here's a shot of the greasy and delicious khinkali dumplings:



Since there are so few budget travelers in Georgia, the prime place to stay in Tbilisi is at a woman named Irina's family apartment, where beds fill every available space and travelers from all over the world come to stay for a few days. At the home stay, I met Nate and Michal, two awesome Americans who had spent the previous year volunteering in Israel, helping provide services to the large number of refugees who flee into the country seeking asylum from places like Sudan. We headed out for a day in Tbilisi together, and came across an incredible outdoor antiques market, which will definitely go down as one of the best markets I've seen yet. There were hundreds of tables covered in a random assortment of soviet relics, old books written in both Russian and the swoopy Georgian alphabet, portable record players, decorated tin boxes, musical instruments, and just about anything else imaginable. I especially enjoyed the edges of the market, where people set up shop on the hoods of their cars:



Nate, Michal and I took a day trip outside of Tbilisi to the impossible-to-pronounce town of Mtskheta, where there are a handful of World Heritage-listed churches. Compared to other churches throughout Europe, Georgian churches are really interesting because they feel much more like living places of worship than most. The soaring interiors of the Mtskheta cathedrals were filled with icon paintings and old gravestones from countless time periods, including the modern day. Like no churches I've ever visited, the layered history of the Georgian churches comes right up to the surface, and I instantly got a sense for the generations that have worshiped at each church. Since the ones in Mtskheta date from the 6th and 11th centuries, that's a lot of generations. Georgia's population remains much more religious than Western Europe, and anytime a Georgian person passes a church they pause to cross themselves.

Coming down back into Mtskheta from a church on a hill outside town, it came time to pay our taxi driver. We had agreed on the price of two Georgian Lari for the ride, but as we arrived, the driver suddenly insisted we pay 20 Lari — about $12. We refused, and the driver absolutely flipped out, screaming at us in the street, and threatening to call the police and have me arrested. If there's one thing I've learned on this trip, nobody on earth likes any more contact with their local police than absolutely necessary, so I called his bluff, and flagged down a cop to help resolve the dispute. Luckily, Michal speaks a fair bit of Russian, so we managed to get out of there agreeing to pay only 10 Lari to the irate driver. He made a big scene as we left and swore that he'd never forgive us for what we did to him. Sorry fella!

The next day, the three of us headed up toward the Russian border near the troubled region of Chechnya to a charming little village called Kazbegi, nestled in a deep misty valley. We stayed in the home of a welcoming villager named Bella, who Michal had read about online, and we found her place just by asking her townspeople if they knew where Bella's house was. Although Bella's family didn't speak any English, they were really friendly and welcoming, and Bella made us some outstanding homemade stew for dinner each night. I got a lot of exercise out in Bella's yard, while their polar bear sized dog tried his hardest to repeatedly pummel me in the balls, much to the amusement of their toddler grandson. All throughout town, there are chickens and pigs wandering around, and the quiet is only broken by gangs of local kids gathering for impromptu soccer games in the dusty streets. The quaint atmosphere and amazing location made Kazbegi a welcome break from the hustle and bustle of the big city.



We went on a hike up toward the large formerly-volcanic peak that rises above town, stopping along the way at the Tsminda Sameba Cathedral, a much-loved 14th-century church considered to be the most holy and important in the country. Perched high on the green mountain overlooking town, we stopped at the church for a picnic lunch and to enjoy the epic views, then continued our long hike up into the dense fog alongside big groups of cows grazing in the mountain pastures.




After a trip back to Tbilisi, I sadly parted ways with Nate and Michal and headed up toward the Black Sea coast town of Batumi. Popular with Russian vacationers, the town felt totally different than Tbilisi, but still had a lot of charm. During the day, I wandered amongst the city's nice historic architecture and great public spaces, and went to it's awesome little modern art museum. At night, I headed out along the waterfront boardwalk where tons of gorgeous Russian girls strutted their stuff en-route to glitzy dance clubs, dressed in their standard issue leather miniskirts and busty tops. I find going to dance clubs intensely awkward, so I opted out and hung out on a bench instead, spending most of the evening with a crazy elderly Georgian man who didn't speak any English and kept badgering me to give him cigarettes, even though I don't smoke. There's no feeling quite like being in a town full of beautiful women and hanging out on a bench with an old man instead — I highly recommend it.

I was sad to leave Georgia so soon, but with only a day to get back to Istanbul to meet my friend Matt, I crossed the border back into Turkey, then caught a 24 hour bus along the Black Sea coastline to Turkey's cultural capital. Luckily, the bus was only half-full — half-empty if you're a pessimist — so there was plenty of room to sprawl out. By the end, the bus attendant and I were good friends, and he consistently mocked me for wearing shorts, which he insisted were "pants only children would wear."

I made it back to Istanbul, and met up with Matt who I traveled with for the last couple of weeks. In the next update, I'll write about our adventures together in Turkey, Bulgaria, and Romania. I'm in Ukraine now, gearing up to meet my friend Gerni again for the final stretch of my trip, through the Balkan countries. I'm hoping to catch up the blog here in the next few days, so watch out for new entries soon.

Thanks for reading!
Ryan

P.S. -- No, I didn't actually take a midnight train to Georgia, unfortunately. For the sake of the story, I definitely would have if there had been trains available.

Photos updated: Turkey, Georgia, Bulgaria