Ali & Nino: Go Read It. Right Now.

                                           

25 May 2009

Baku, Azerbaijan

After last night's bushcamp (note to husband: must put tent fly on before sleeping, as will inevitably rain if we do not...as evidenced at 2am when I, plus you and Denis in your boxers, had to do it in sudden rainstorm), we drove the 30K into Baku today.

            

Baku,as you know, is a booming oil town for the second time. In the 1870s it was a hub for Caspian Oil, but after the Bolsheviks took it over, production dropped steeply. In the last 10 years a stagnant economy has exploded and there are literally oil derricks in every square acre, plus scattered for miles offshore. Some of the new money has been poured into the rather grand city, which sports a beautiful Old City, rather Disneyfied and very shiny and clean. Dior and Celine are the sort of shops here now, with prices to match. Fountains everywhere, the police cars are Mercedes, and there are drunken oil rig men falling into tables in bars across town (we saw one this afternoon. He got up and had another drink. They don't cut you off in Baku.)

                        

Anyway, once past the desert and derricks, it's absolutely beautiful, friendly, and terribly civilized. Go read Kurban Said's novel “Ali & Nino”, a (literary and not slutty) love story set in Baku in the late 1910s, and then come and see this place. Wonderful little book. Islam, Georgians, jealousy, harems, diplomacy, love, and murder.

                       

Hoping to catch a freight ferry across the Caspian to Kazakhstan tomorrow, and will be in the desert for some time after with no internet, let alone wifi, so no updates. But don't cry! Will keep writing and post whenever we can. Perhaps you could print and laminate previous entries to keep yourselves occupied. Unless you work at Christies and the laminator sheets are worth more than your job these days.

                          

Azerbaijan: Surprisingly Not Crappy

                     

24 May 2009

Border Crossing in Dodgy Countries, Lesson One:

1. Dress modestly (mankini--bad idea, no matter how close you are to Kazakhstan)

2. Be respectful (jokes about epidemics generally ill advised)

3. No laughing (see above re: Swine Flu humour)

Having duly been chastened by Tim to behave ourselves at the Azeri border after their adventures there last year, we were a good little group of humble westerners, and with surprisingly little ado, find ourselves in Azerbaijan for the next few days. The medical officer (big hat) said we needed medical exams; Cheryl told him we have no fevers, and he said that was good enough for him. Slightly bizarre, as nearby Turkmenistan has completely closed it's entire border because of the extremely low risk of Swine Flu, and Azerbaijan didn't do more than glance at us to determine that we're epidemic-free. I suppose it's a lesson in the arbitrary nature of bureaucracy, clearly applicable the world over. No pictures allowed, of course.

          

First impression of what's arguably the most alien place we've been so far—strangely, quite nice, and really much more plush than Georgia. Which was unexpected, as Georgia has closer links to Europe, and being Christian seems more like, well, us, somehow. In the last few years, an oil pipeline from the immense oil fields of the Caspian Sea has been routed through Azerbaijan, and the nation is benefiting hugely from the income that generates. A brilliant (though slightly dated now) book on this region is Lutz Kleveman's “The New Great Game,” referencing of course the 19^th century struggle to control this part of the world, Britain versus Russia. Now it's all about American and European oil companies (and governments) versus Russian ones...Russia must feel like no one ever leaves them alone to just get on with annexing random countries with enormous oil and natural gas reserves, you know?

Azerbaijan has been ruled by the ex-Communist Heydar Alaiyev (see above) for the last 10 years—although he is now technically dead, posters of the surprisingly robust looking old gent are everywhere, including in the inevitable park and museum every Azeri town has. Naturally named after him.

           

Stayed last night in the town of Seki, once a stop on the Silk Road. The place we stayed was an absolutely beautiful caravanserai, converted into a Soviet-era hotel with laughably basic bathrooms and slightly grey sheets...but the building is all arches and fountains, domed spaces and ancient bricks. Today we've come across the country to a flat, almost surreally empty landscape, dotted with mud volcanoes.

         

Yes, mud volcanoes. Grey cones of bubbling, icy cold mud, oozing down the slopes they've formed over years. Apparently they can indicate the presence of natural gas, and occasionally erupt with 300 feet of hot...um, mud. All very strange. Of course the boys have spent a good amount of time this afternoon throwing stones into the volcanoes and splashing one another, and I've managed to get a foot stuck into it, leading to one very grey Havaina flipflop. They seem to have spontaneously abandoned their shirts as well, with some excellent farmer tans on exhibit. Perhaps the primitive landscape has evoked a vestigial response. Or they are in fact 7.

Stalin's Toilet and Wine in a Basement

22 May 2009

The vineyard in Kakheti was bizarre—little old couple (they had to be 80) keep chickens, a dog, and several enormous wine vats in their backyard...and they ferment it in the basement. They laid on a spread of flat bread, four kinds of wine, chacha (Georgian grappa...and grappa is never a good idea), salty cheese and cucumbers. Zaza toasted us with wine in silver mounted cowhorns, and we bought something like 110 litres of their product in big plastic containers brought with us for just such an eventuality.

              

Bushcamped in yet another tediously lovely meadow, and were adopted by a big white dog / polar bear. The locals brought out their children to give us roses and branches of cherries, and Amy had her bad-taste birthday party. Lovely.

In Telavi last night at a home-stay...although this place is more like a palace. Someone was clearly a very good Comrade to have lived here. Ten-foot ceilings, all corniced and with gilt chandeliers, parquet floors, and glass-fronted display cabinets containing 30 year old German perfume. We've lucked out with the biggest room again, which includes a vanity table, huge bed, hand-knotted carpet on the wall, and porcelain chandelier. Bushcamp again tonight on the edge of a Georgian national park, so this little slice of Soviet Style is a welcome break.

I think I forgot to blog about Gori, and definitely wanted to drop a shout-out to Stalin's hometown. Big Soviet-style square (useful for parades to intimidate capitalist pigs), 50 foot iron statue of the great leader, and a giant museum with English-reciting guide who literally didnottakeabreath during the entire tour...or mention the gulags, millions dead, and pact with Hitler. But you know, a museum can't hit everything. Also they had the only textiles in the place in direct sunlight...but I digress. They have his personal train car (original toilet in place) and the cabin he was born in. Fabulous, I was actually giddy to be in a Soviet museum. Note to self--calm down. Suspect fellow travelers think am lunatic. Stayed in a Soviet hotel...shower unit not actually attached, and hot water 5 hours a day (not consecutively), but very grand with blue velvet curtains and 9 chairs. The sort of room in which one might plan exactly who's taking a trip to Siberia from...

           

Have finally been granted Azeri and Kazakh visas, so tomorrow we will run the border into Azerbaijan, and be in Seki (said Sheck-ee) tomorrow night, on our way to the modern oil city of Baku.

20 May 2009

Extra day in Tblisi (yay!) because of the Swine Flu Problem--Tim used it to sort our visas for Azerbaijan (granted and expertly haggled down from $150 to $22 each). Extra night in a hotel as well, which no one is complaining about, although we'll have to make it up budget-wise somewhere along the way. We had a huge room in the Hotel Nata, the rooms of which seem to vary between semi-modern and entirely decrepit. Some of us were luckier than others, I gather. Lovely courtyard with fountain, encircled by verandas, and they did give you a free bottle of wine and also hardboiled eggs (two each).

Spent our extra time in the city wandering and went up to Mtatsminda Park, perched up on the hills overlooking Tblisi, all swaying pine trees and quite the modern amusements. The children's characters that are on signs and statues at the park are clearly benign, but interestingly to me and no doubt to your average four-year old, all seemed to be proffering jugs of wine. City bus back for 40 tetri (about 25 cents each). Have mastered the bus and the dour, Soviet-built metro as well, feeling very proud of ourselves.

Lobiani for lunch, a sort of fried dough stuffed with refried beans. Roughly $2.40 for both of us to eat with leftovers. Between the free wine and cheap-arse food, Georgia is good value for money...until you get to the tourist areas. Dinner with Rich, Amy, Alan, rachel, Paul and Louise in an American bar, in which David ordered the American Sandwich. Chicken and banana. David will no doubt elaborate on his food blog.

Going up to Telavi, in the sort-of Napa of Georgia. Georgian wine being world famous...in Georgia. They do claim to have the world's oldest cultivated vines, and what we've had so far has been really pretty good--and freaking cheap. Sadly in the West you really only see Old Tblisi, which is not very nice. Worth looking out for Georgian wines, though, as they are just beginning to sell in the West and you'll look like quite the oenophile.

Today is also Amy's 30th, and she's chosen the theme of Bad Taste. Zaza (the guide) led us to a market outside Tblisi to spend $10 each on something to wear complying with the theme...the onl difficult part was staying in budget. Bad taste is plentiful, though not so affordable. Am currently sporting a jade green top embroidered with large cranes. Together with Pat Butcher-esque pink earrings...and I reckon I'm till the most tastefully attired person on this truck. David, being a Poor Team Player, opted for a t-shirt stating that he was Very Excited to Be Here. That's him in the centre above...with the other boys, who being mainly British / Irish, pretty much entirely opted for cross-dressing (trust me, it's just what they do).

Following on from my celebrity-mention of dear Emma in a previous post, I'm been gently urged to throw out a line about the various virtues of our friend Louise as well, as her parents apparently also read this blog, and she is jealous. Louise Firth is a lovely girl, extremely intelligent, enjoys beating Denis Lucey at backgammon, and does not like walking uphill. (Louise's Parents: I shall expect some sort of message from you noting your apprectaition for this shout-out).

Sulfur and Civilization

18 May 2009

Tblisi, Georgia

Thank god we're back to civilization! A lovely, leafy, urban oasis of beautiful 19^th century edifices, a cafe culture that calls out to sit and do nothing, and some good sulfur baths...had a nice scrub at the sulfur-heavy hot springs that are the reason Tblisi is here. We had a room with plunge pool to ourselves, David got scrubbed down by a skinny guy in his undies and I was done my an ancient granny in a housecoat. So lovely and clean and only slightly whiffy of rotten eggs. I love Tblisi.

In a real live hotel, too, which has both a door to the shower AND water in it! Luxury. Here until tomorrow. Slight hiccup in the plan, as Turkmenistan has panicked and closed their border to all and sundry, because of Swine Flu. Thanks a lot, Mexico. Top be honest, I am so far removed from real life that all of Central America could be dead from it and I'd have no idea, but really. Anyhow, we're down swapping the land of Turkmenbashi for that of Borat, and it looks like we'll be in Kazakhstan instead. Crew are at the embassy today sorting visas...the only other real way is through Iran, which would take ages to get visas for everyone else, and would not be so good for us—being Americans, unlikely we'd get a visa at all, and would have to fly ourselves to wherever they all came out. So fingers crossed that the Caspian ferries are timely and we can cross the desert of Borat.

Off to find some shops this afternoon, and more lovely cheap wine.  

Georgia on My Mind

13 May 2009

Mestia in the sunlight is in fact a bit nicer than in the grey...but not my favourite part of this epic journey. They did open the local museum for us despite it being a national holiday (St Andrew) in Georgia, and provide a guided tour of the really pretty impressive treasury of ecclesiastical bits and bobs that have been stashed up there over the centuries. Also artifacts of the Svan people who live in the Caucasus—they speak their own unwritten language, completely different to Georgian. It was built in the Soviet period, and very stern a building it is. No HVAC or temperature / humidity controls, for the museum geeks who might wonder...but some impressive icons. Sitting in damp cases in the freezing cold.

            

David trekked up to the Cross alone, a 6 hour hike up and back, which he was specifically told not to do on his own. He came back in one piece, however, proving that he is in fact impervious to both injury and good sense. We went out to the only “restaurant” in Mestia for late lunch to celebrate his not dying. The “restaurant” serves only beer, orange lemonade, a nd meat bread. Which is in fact steak and cheese inside flatbread. And cost 3 lari for enough to feed a horse. Nice.

                          

Bushcamp last night on a little spit of land hanging precariously over a gorge, with no safety rails and dreams of erosion haunting me. The police came down in their pickup to watch over us, and brought us food and wine from a local wedding before they slept sitting up in the freezing cold. To protect us from the armed bandits who as recently as 2004 liked to attack tourists. Georgia: Only the Strong and the Bandit-Free Survive. It was pretty, though.

                          

Down the mountains today, to Zugdidi for lunch (cheesy bread) with Emma and Louise. Emma is such an intelligent and good looking girl (and did not in any way urge me to write that for the benefit of her parents who apparently read this blog). Then stopped at the caves in Satrapi, with some lovely Soviet-style loose wires lighting them, which was helpful to illuminate the dripping water all about the wires and thus the second threat of death for today. Now camping in the woods just above the caves, leafy and lovely and another good meal. The backgammon brigade are in full effect, beers are open and tea is being made. We're all terribly domestic in the Georgian forest. 

Borderline

                                                                                  

11 May 2009

Got to the Georgian Border before noon, and out of it at 2:30. Super fun times there. I recommend it for your next party or festive occasion. Until now, our borders have been EU and Turkey, which at least borders the EU, and Tim & Cheryl have dealt with the boring bits for us. Georgia is the first where we had to walk across the border ourselves, with our own passports in hand. Getting out of Turkey was fine. Georgia however herds you into yellow metal chutes, similar to those last seen in North Korean Re-Education Camps and/or your local abattoir. Then to the border booth, where extremely rude Georgians shove themselves in front of you to the appreciable distress of our UK people especially (they really do like to queue, some stereotypes are there for a reason). We got all the way up, only to find that in fact we had to go back and get Swine Flu forms filled in promising that we haven't been in Mexico in the last two weeks. And then...we got to start all over again with the pushy Georgian grannies.

          

All through eventually, and lunch handed through the bars of the border area by our waiting guide Zaza. Georgian food may make up for the grannies and swine flu paperwork—first meal was a lightly fried pastry thing filled with potato and dill and deliciousness. Up to Batumi, a Beaux Arts port on the Black Sea, to stay on the Hotel Old Ship. Which, cunningly, is a hotel on an old ship. Decked out as a pirate ship. Fun! Crap showers, though. Again, what a more optimistic girl might call a shower room, but which in fact is a handheld shower over the toilet. Whatever, we're clean. Dinner at a restaurant built to look like a ship (theme!), with Georgian music (including some celebrating the Russian victory over Germany on 9 May 1945—very Soviet, wanted to get up and march, possibly have soul of thwarted communist?) and a feast of local foods. Cheese, bread, cheesy bread, fried fish, veggies in dill, bready cheese, and lovely Georgian wine. And khachapuri--bread with cheese, a fried egg, and enough butter to tide over 19 Alden Avenue for a good week. See below.

                                     

Yesterday was not my favourite—10 hours on a shite road from Batumi to Mestia, a lovely village of 2500 people high in the Caucasus mountains, which is famous mainly for scenery and hiking. I am of course still in bed at noon, as these are not really my sort of thing. Staying in home-stays, really bed and breakfasts, with extremely lovely hostesses who fed us like a returning army at 10pm when we got here, and promise better tonight (we got here a day early, and only gave them an hour's warning). Everyone else has gone up to a higher village, supposedly the highest permanently occupied one in Europe, but another 6 hours return on that road was doing nothing for the tourist in me. So much for adventure and exploration—I'm taking a nap.

                                                                  

Did manage to call the Mutti for Mother's Day from said shite road clinging to mountainside in Georgia (did I mention the police escort?) because I am the Best. Child. Ever. Take that, Brian John.  

               

To sum up, Georgia is a place that reveres a king called David the Builder, has laundry detergent called Barf, and also thinks Stalin is extremely cool (He's from here. But still.)

It's Raining Plastic Ducks in Trabzon

9 May 2009

Last week was a bit of what you might call adventures in crappy shower facilities...after De-Stucking the Truck, we drove northwest through the heart of Turkey (and the mountains...again) back to the Black Sea (Karadeniz in Turkish—am practically fluent), and a “campground” near Trabzon. Tucked into a little valley, rushing river along one side, and dotted with log picnic shelters, Sumelas Camping is lovely. Except for the showers—to be fair, we were warned. Team Hardcore stuck it out, Team Upgrade trotted off to the local motel to live like kings for two nights.

                                                      

The shower block: two rooms, one with squat toilet and handheld shower, one with modern toilet and non-functioning handheld shower. The shower is over the toilet in both, which helpfully allows you to both wash and clean the entire bathroom in one easy go. Peeling paint adds to the rustic charm—about 3 layers of paint in various shades of green. And it rained a lot of the time we were there, so the ceiling dripped as well.  So not waterproof paint. In the bathroom. 

           

However...not the end of the world, did manage to wash my hair in the sink and as we are all a bit dirty, no one can tell precisely who stinks. Sun came out to let us up to Sumela Monastery, clinging to the rock face high above another gorgeous valley. 12^th century Greek Orthodox, with amazing frescos (redone in the 19^th century, but still, I'm not supposed to be picky. Have been warned.) The walk up is steep and winding, but sunlight-dappled as well, and with the requisite rushing river, very atmospheric. Down to Trabzon for lunch and a bit of shopping that afternoon—my lovely hiking boots are too small after about 3 hours, but also the only waterproof shoes I have, so am now proud owner of hideously ugly black hiking shoes, reminiscent of old men on the beach with black socks and sandals. They do fit, though, so there's that. Camping shops in Trabzon appear to mainly sell guns and harpoons—and you know how I like a spot of whaling. The one where we got the shoes takes you from the gun section out of the shop, down to a cell phone store, and into their basement/storage room for promotional plastic ducks, to see the shoes. Naturally.

Then through to the Georgian border and our adventures there...thanks, Swine Flu.   

The Truck Got Stuck

 7 May 2009

Cappadocia and Anatolia                                                    

After the damp bliss of Urgip and the tandir, we spent Tuesday in Goreme, the little town at the heart of Cappadocia and quite close to Kaya Camping (which, BTW, has possibly the nicest showers on earth. And a lot of Germans...also the first Dutch person I've ever met who knew where Dieren is—hi, Anouk!). Goreme was another Greek village, transferred to a Turkish population, and with Roman tombs and Byzantine chapels...this whole part of the world is a bit like the Patty the Daytime Hooker, everyone's had a piece.

The Open-Air museum just outside of it have about 7 cave-churches, with deeply vivid frescos from about the 10^th century, etc. More interestingly, some old people were in there filming for 60 Minutes, a piece on early Christianity and the Greek Orthodox church to show in September, we're told by the American bloke in his Rick Steves'-esque travel trousers and backpack-on-one-shoulder. So all you old Americans should look out for that. We completely failed to recognize the reporter, which confirms that we are still hip and cool. Yes?

The sixth of May, and the titular truck did indeed get stuck. Pulled onto a lakeside somewhere in mid-Turkey for bushcamp, and the misleadingly 'damp' ground in fact proved to be a sludgy mix of clay and mud. The truck was in down to the diff, and the boys spent a few hours shoveling, piling rocks, and generally playing in the mud like pre-schoolers (all completely necessary, I am assured), before some girls went and got a Turk with a JCB to pull us out. Sorted, yes? But no! We parked on the road with the hazards on, and made supper (lamb cooked in veggies and spices, beautiful)...only for a good chunk of the Turkish Army to rock up with flashing lights, wielding lots of large guns and looking suitably menacing. Very exciting. In perfect English they offered us any help we needed and gave us their phone number in case anyone bothered us...which did somewhat damage the fierce first impression.

Up and out at 7:30 this morning, have driven through the mountains (which I still do not enjoy...who signed me up for a truck ride through the Himalayas? I blame David) and down again to the Black Sea, which we're following along to near Trabzon and the Sumela Monastery.

Today's highlight so far: meeting Mustafa Cetin, the very nice owner of the bakery where we stopped to get bread...and who turns out to have lived in—I kid you not—Delran. For 8 years. Well, three years were in Edgewater Park, so that may not count...he has returned to Turkey and has bought a few shops in the village of Dereli with his American proceeds. Worked at various diners, including Omar's and the Edgewater Queen. Seriously. I left Delran at 18 and have been steadily moving farther ever since, only to run into the Diner King of South Jersey in Dereli, Turkey, in 2009. Sometimes my life feels like a Seinfeld episode.  

Crap Internet in Georgia!

Can't upload anything, too slow for pictures and my witty text is trying to be Cyrillic. You'll have to re-read old posts to tide yourselves over...

We're in Kutasi, Georgia, today, in the lovely sunshine. Spent a few days high up in the Caucasus mountains, in Mestia where the only restaurnt sells only bread stuffed with meat and cheese. Excellent place. Poor as all get out, though--hard to believe that this was the Soviet Union we grew up fearing! Mainly cows wandering the streets amidst the 4WD Ladas...

More when we have some wifi, though don't know when that might be. But all safe and sound and getting along fine so far. Potentially bush camping (no showers, no toilets) for 5 nights, unless the only hotel in Gori managed to suvive being shelled by the Russians last year. No one seems sure! They did promise adventure and exploration, the smelly bits are just a bonus.

Hermits vs. Bellydancers: Battle to the Death

Cappadocia, Turkey                                    

4 May 2009

The drive down from the Black Sea made another long day, but in the recently established tradition of truck-culture, the birthday boy got the King seat—lots of legroom and faceing forward. I admit to shamelessly hustling to gain said seats (and to verify that the spouse gets the accompanying seat). David's 33^rd birthday was marked with a card beautifully made by Rachel, Louise, Le and Lindsay—with little input from me, all the better. It depicts him in a hammock (he broke them out the first hot day in Akcakoca) and reads “Welcome to Calypsoville”. In your mind, please follow with some extensive explaining on our part as to what a Jimmy Buffett is, and about three hours of it on the truck soundsystem. All the truck are now passionate fans, natch. Though it MAY have been pain and not passion they were exhibiting. Not sure.

                 

Got to yet another scenic campground in the region of Turkey called Cappadocia around 5 that night, pitched camp overlooking an immense gorge and popped off to an underground cavern/bunker called the Yemeni Restaurant for an evening of very little food and some folk dancing, which included knives and vaguely medieval costumes, portly Turks in pink satin shirts, and David belly dancing. And that's all I have to say about that.

Well, also the alcohol was free, so some of our party (cough-CorrieandRich-cough)  decanted the red wine into Coke bottles to take home. The campground also has a cave with a fireplace, so the party continued there...and descended quickly into wrestling, vomiting, and some other festive events.

And thus is David Ludwick thirty-three.

Post the happy event, we spent yesterday on a tour of the area with a local guide called Farouk, seeing the fairy chimneys and underground cities. The landscape is StarWars-esque, utterly bizarre, with towers and caves carved from the soft stone everywhere. Whole villages lived in these cliff-towns until the 1950s, including loads of Greek-speaking Orthodox Christians who were sent back to Greece after a thousand years here, in population exchanges with Turk-speaking people in Greece. The result is villages which contain ancient Orthodox chapels and newer mosques, carved from the same stone. The Greek community resulted from a bunch of saints who set themselves up in isolated caves here in the 6^th century, to debate the nature of Christ.  As you do.

               

Went also to an underground city, where I discovered that I may in fact suffer from a teensy case of claustrophobia. That is to say, I'm not moving in anytime soon. All these dark little tunnels to hunch down and crawl through. Pretty sure there was some sort of evil down there. The kind that makes everyone else pretend they liked it.

Half the group went hot-air ballooning this morning at 5am...again, not convinced that it was worth getting up at half four. We opted to sleep. There will no doubt be 9000 photos from the jaunt, of which I will choose the best and pretend they're mine.

Yesterday's glorious sunshine has hidden itself in a cave to debate the nature of Christ today, it's cool and rainy again. Went into Urgip, a pretty little town that was Greek until 50 years ago, and has lots of carpet shops (I give you good price, lady, just for you.) We collectively went to one which provided tea and pide, and in exchange Cheryl and Tim have bought a carpet. Everyone comes out happy. For second lunch, David had the local speciality, tandir—beautiful lamb stew baked in a pot with the bread baked right on top. Mmm.