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.