Georgia: Part I

Tbilisi and Mtskheta --> Mestia --> Zugdidi --> Tbilisi and Ananuri

Going from Armenia to Georgia should be straight-forward: no wars, no grumbling, just neighbours. However, going from Stepanavan to Tbilisi the marshrutka stops at the Georgia side of the border, passports are collected and we go nowhere. A passenger is put on a marshrutka going from Georgia and still we go nowhere. Over the course of 270 minutes the marshrutka doesn't move because, it appears, some locals had some passport problems (we continued into Georgia with three fewer passengers than what we had when we arrived at the border). Still, I'm there.

Tbilisi is quite a cool town - it has style, an old fort, loads of churches and a crumbling but interesting old town. One could say that it has character. It definitely does not look like this.

At the first opportunity, after the weekend, I head to the Azerbaijan embassy to apply for a visa. They are clearly socialists as their consular division opens from 1000 - 1200 three days a week. Which meant two mornings were used up standing outside the embassy handing in and then collecting my passport but at least that gave me relaxation time. One daytrip to the unpronouncable Mtskheta to see the churches there and, later, another to Ananuri to see the fort and church there.

To fill up the remaining days before going to Azerbaijan I spent the weekend in Mestia. Mestia is in the far north-west of Georgia, wedged up close to Azkhabia and Russia and difficult to get to. First an overnight train to Zugdidi, arriving at 0615, then a marshrutka ride through the mountains with mud track for the last 20km or more. Arriving at the marshrutka stop at Zugdidi I was introduced to a local, Davit (a soldier who showed me his photos of Baghdad taken on his mobile phone), who invited me to a the cafe opposite for breakfast: a bowl of stew and a bottle of vodka - just the three shots each. Stopping for lunch later in the day, all the men in the marshrutka headed into a roadside restaurant for local cheese pies and more vodka. Lots more vodka in fact: I sullied our good family tradition by being secretly pleased when the second bottle was finished but then someone had to order a third. After my sixth lunchtime shot I gave up and refused any more but the rest, including the driver, polished off that bottle too. At dinner that night my host (the marshrutka driver) forced another three shots on me taking my total that day to 12. I slept well that night.

Food and vodka aside, Mestia was fantastic. I was fed me huge amounts of food which made up for the unheated room and outhouse toilet. I spent two days walking in the hills - plenty of photos online.

Which all means that next is a trip to Azerbaijan ...