Georgia, Are You Ready to Rock?!!!

Getting a five-year ban from Turkey wasn't as painful as I anticipated. A small stamp in my passport and a sad explanation from a cute border policewoman and I was on my way. It really was my fault for not informing myself about visa regulations earlier but I just assumed it would be OK. Not very smart but I guess I could always come and visit my many Turkish friends with a Croatian or Bosnian passport (having three citizenships has its advantages); I am sure I will be back - I miss Turkey already.

With my heart still pumping fast from the excitement of entering Georgia, I placed my first steps on Caucasian soil. A large white flag with red crosses waved in the night wind above the northern side of the border. I had made it - the small former Soviet republic of Georgia, my obssessive dream for the past 3 months, had become a reality. The guards welcomed us warmly in Georgian, Turkish and even Russian, and Tim and I entered a new world. We were newborns again, facing the tasks of learning to communicate with the people, how to eat and drink, how to exist in their universe...

'Two beers please, and some khachapuri (cheese filled pastry)'', my first words in the new land. Tim and I sat in front of a little shop near the border and polished off some great Natakhtari beer, which to our delight only cost about 70 euro cents! Everything seemed new and exciting. The smells, the language, the old Russian 'Lada's and other cars passing by....not to mention that alcohol was sold in the stores and by women nonetheless! We bumped into some Turks on a weekend visit to Batumi, or next destination. It was weird to feel so connected to them, and it felt great to be called 'abe' (brother) again. We missed the sense of safety we had learned to feel in Turkey. We had no idea how safe Georgia would be or how hospitable the locals were. Many Turks had warned us about crime in Batumi but we always took this kind of information with a grain of salt. People always seem to think that the area, region or country next to theirs was more dangerous and less friendly. We had been warned about Sivas from the inhabitants of the Ankara area and the locals of Sivas warned us about the Black Sea which in turn warned us about Georgia! Luckily though, they were all wrong about each other, the people of each area were great - people in general are good, more good than most can believe.

Tired from the day's walk and the wait at the border Tim and I decide to ask the price of a road-side hotel near the border. I open the thin wooden door and stop dead in my tracks. It was as if I was slapped by culture shock - four provocatively dressed women playing cards with a young tough-looking man in what looked to be a bar or restaurant, not a Turkish scene at all! An intoxicated old man wakes up from a cot behind the bar and I bargain with him for a room in Russian. A pretty young girl shows us to our quarters after we settle a price and both Tim and I are on our toes - we have no idea how safe we are, especially in this 'hotel' - another brothel for lonely Turkish men from across the border. I slept with one eye open that night, the door locked and my walking stick and Bursa knife close by. In the morning we woke and went to the bar for coffee. One of the women served us as some Russian pop played over a pair of good speakers. Her small curly dog kept yapping next to the bar and I tried to calm him down to no avail. She saw me and gave me a friendly innocent smile. It was then that I got my first good feeling about this ancient nation, I could sense I had over-exaggerated about the danger and I knew we were in for a good time....