Standing in the courtyard of a 1600's cathedral in south Esfahan with christmas trees, lights and a santa in a train I am wondering whether I have entered a parallel universe. Then that horrible "Macarena" song comes on over the loudspeaker - it's a mixed dance version with "Joy to the world" interspersed in with it and i am really questioning the reality of the situation. Then I fall down some stairs and take out a chunk of my knee and my hand and I realise that this really is happening and also I am in a lot of pain. (Why do I always fall over?) Much consternation by the people around me - but just a bit of blood to clean up - which is hard because you aren't allowed to show leg here and most of the blood was coming out of my knee.
The Vank cathedral is the central part of the Armenian quarter here in Esfahan. The christians, jews and muslims have pretty much all gotten along with each other for hundreds of years in Iran. The "People of the Book" (christians, jews and mandeans) have their own reserved seats in parliament, don't have to do military service and aren't subject to the same restrictions as the muslim iranians. This picture of peaceful co-existance doesn't quite gel with how Bush Jnr and his cronies would have us think about Iran.
So anyway enough of the history and me being on my soapbox! Christmas day in Esfahan is peaceful - I went shopping and bought a very fine rug, a salt bag (for carrying your salt in the desert on your camel), and a lovely piccy of a camel painted onto some camel bone. Hope you all had a good xmas and not too many family fights. I'm off the the desert for a few days to hang out with some camels and eat some dates.
Cheers
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Scorn of the women
Bah, Sadaam, Sadaam, Sadaam wailed the old woman.
"what is she saying about Sadaam" I ask my guide Ashkan
"she is cursing him, they are all cursing him"
I am standing in a scrubby bit of wasteland near the Iraq border where some of the bloodiest battles of the Iran/Iraq war occurred in the 80's. I had no intention of being at this memorial but my guide knew I was interested in the war and thought he would take me. When we go there it was just a desolate area with some broken old tanks, lots of rusting shrapnel, rusty barbed wire and a new mosque. There was no-one else there. About 5 minutes later 3 bus loads of the wives and daughters of the dead martyrs turned up. So I was invited to a tour of the place that their husbands and fathers died over 20 years ago. We walked through the trenches, visited their trench mosque, climbed around the barbed wire together. None of these women spoke english but I was welcomed, kissed and many prayers were said for me - they even sang me a song. I was choking back tears at the sad wailing songs they were singing and the photos of their loved ones that they showed me. Then they all wanted to take my photo and kiss me and tell me they loved me. So it was kind of a carnival mixed with a sad and sombre event. Not sure how to describe it. But so far it's been the real stand out event of the trip - a random encounter of the most wonderful kind.
One woman was telling me (through Ashkan - but I could guess what she was saying through the tone of her voice and my scrappy farsi) that Iran will always be strong and that "is Israel attacks we will fight them" - but the other women around her didn't look so sure about that - they've seen enough tragedy and death in their lives already.
Oh and at the end we all put scorn on Sadaam I helped curse him as well.
"what is she saying about Sadaam" I ask my guide Ashkan
"she is cursing him, they are all cursing him"
I am standing in a scrubby bit of wasteland near the Iraq border where some of the bloodiest battles of the Iran/Iraq war occurred in the 80's. I had no intention of being at this memorial but my guide knew I was interested in the war and thought he would take me. When we go there it was just a desolate area with some broken old tanks, lots of rusting shrapnel, rusty barbed wire and a new mosque. There was no-one else there. About 5 minutes later 3 bus loads of the wives and daughters of the dead martyrs turned up. So I was invited to a tour of the place that their husbands and fathers died over 20 years ago. We walked through the trenches, visited their trench mosque, climbed around the barbed wire together. None of these women spoke english but I was welcomed, kissed and many prayers were said for me - they even sang me a song. I was choking back tears at the sad wailing songs they were singing and the photos of their loved ones that they showed me. Then they all wanted to take my photo and kiss me and tell me they loved me. So it was kind of a carnival mixed with a sad and sombre event. Not sure how to describe it. But so far it's been the real stand out event of the trip - a random encounter of the most wonderful kind.
One woman was telling me (through Ashkan - but I could guess what she was saying through the tone of her voice and my scrappy farsi) that Iran will always be strong and that "is Israel attacks we will fight them" - but the other women around her didn't look so sure about that - they've seen enough tragedy and death in their lives already.
Oh and at the end we all put scorn on Sadaam I helped curse him as well.
From the heart - pt 2
I'm not sure what to write about.....
Tabriz
Tabriz
Lovely city in the top left hand corner of Iran. Bloody cold though. While the city only has a couple of "must sees" it is a very friendly place for an introduction to Iran.
Highlights:- breakfasts of yoghurt and honey in a shop in the bazaar. Sounds simple but when eating this sitting in a busy little shop where no-one speaks english but they all smile at you and want to make sure you like Iran, well it's just lovely. One morning I asked for Chay (tea) and the young boy just shook his head and said Na - the place only seemed to serve warm milk - but his boss/father admonished the kid for not helping me and a cuppa quickly turned up in front of me from the shop next door. bless.
- Watching an 8 year old girl totally lose it when being put on an escalator for the first time in her life. The family must have been regional because the little girls where in the full chadoor, and at that age that is not common. So they've got 2 girls (8 and about 10), mum, dad and grandma and they are trying to get grandma and youngest daughter onto escalator to go down (the up escalator wasn't working so they had to use it as stairs) - grandma is holding onto dad with all her might with hers eyes tightly shut, the older daughter is having a ball and the little one is just screaming and crying. They all stopped at the bottom - causing a mass pile up - and there was no way the little one was going to be able to get off the escalator - so i grabbed her under the arms and carried her off to her parents. I am not sure whether she was more scared of me (prob never seen a whitey before) or the escalator.
Decent cups of coffee: 0
Friday, December 19, 2008
From The Heart
Oh Iran, what a wonderful place you are!
Finally, after about 10 years of wishing and 3 years of trying I made it in.
Small victory dance done on border much to bemusement of border guards.
OK so its been some time since I last blogged but oh well.
Got into Iran 2 days ago from the Dogubayazit border in east Turkey. I'd not seen a fellow backpackers since I left Palmyra about 2 weeks before and there on a remote border town getting into the same minibus for the 30k hop to the border was another backpacker. The convo went something like this:
"Hi"
"G'day"
"So another Australian"
"Yup, where you from?"
"Melbourne"
"Same, whereabouts?"
"East Brunswick"
Me: "North Brunswick"
So what are the odds of that happening, another person who lives 5 minutes from where I live.
So my fellow Brunswickian (Adam) and I got into Iran easily and got some serious help, with getting a share taxi and some fantastic lunch, from 2 Iranian guys who sorted out all the details and got us the same price they paid - one was a student and one was a lawyer. Wonderful guys. We had this lunch at what looked to be a dive in the backsteets of Mako. You'd never eat there in a million years. But it's where the cabbies go and my god it was good. A kind of osso bucco with chickpeas, piping hot with bread, a pickled salad thingy and a cuppa for about $3.
So, first impressions of Iran.
Finally, after about 10 years of wishing and 3 years of trying I made it in.
Small victory dance done on border much to bemusement of border guards.
OK so its been some time since I last blogged but oh well.
Got into Iran 2 days ago from the Dogubayazit border in east Turkey. I'd not seen a fellow backpackers since I left Palmyra about 2 weeks before and there on a remote border town getting into the same minibus for the 30k hop to the border was another backpacker. The convo went something like this:
"Hi"
"G'day"
"So another Australian"
"Yup, where you from?"
"Melbourne"
"Same, whereabouts?"
"East Brunswick"
Me: "North Brunswick"
So what are the odds of that happening, another person who lives 5 minutes from where I live.
So my fellow Brunswickian (Adam) and I got into Iran easily and got some serious help, with getting a share taxi and some fantastic lunch, from 2 Iranian guys who sorted out all the details and got us the same price they paid - one was a student and one was a lawyer. Wonderful guys. We had this lunch at what looked to be a dive in the backsteets of Mako. You'd never eat there in a million years. But it's where the cabbies go and my god it was good. A kind of osso bucco with chickpeas, piping hot with bread, a pickled salad thingy and a cuppa for about $3.
So, first impressions of Iran.
- A suprising amount of tinsel for sale for a country with not many christians and not much need of christmas decorations.
- Insane traffic. The rules are: Ignore all traffic lights, reverse up one way streets (at speed), drive onto the footpath with no regard for pedestrians and use your horn as much as possible. The only way to cross the street is to be careful and make sure you cross near an Iranian with them closest to the trafiic.
- Very friendly people. I got conscripted into helping with an english language converstaion class yesterday. Was just ambling about a museum when Neema pounced and asked if I would come along to the class she teaches. It was great. Just went out to the El-Goli park on the bus and a lady (hamadhi) who wasn't actually going to the park insisted on coming with me and then showing me the right bus. Then a young girl, about 16, insisted on paying my bus fare back to town.
- Buses are odd. Men go in the front door, women in the back - you have to pay the driver at the front door - get out of the bus then go into your entrance.
- I'm sick of my headscarfe already.
- Can't do anything without being offerred a cuppa.
Had some interesting conversations with people in their 20's about religion and politics - taboo subjects here - but they wanted to discuss those topics. Fascinating stuff.
Ok well enough for now
Friday, December 5, 2008
Merhaba
That´d be Turkish for hello.
Stuck wıth a Turkish keyboard so pls forgive any random spelling, missing punctuatıon or odd looking letters.
Am currently in Malatya. Possibly the friendliest cıty ın Turkey. Got here 2 days ago and have been looked after so well - no-one speaks much english but there is generally always someone around who does speak some.
Ive been fed so much tea that I am sıck of the sıght of it - and have got another 2 months of tea beıng constantly fed to me. Oh well,if thats my only complaint........
So far not too much excitıng has happened, but there have been a few crınge worthy or laugh out loud moments that are worth sharing.
Palmyra
Im a bıg fan of Syria and quite love Palmyra (2nd AD on - lots of ruins - generally a tops place). I thınk the photos should be up by now.
So Im wanderıng around Palmyra and get accosted by an older bloke who wants me to pay him to guide me - I decline. But hes up for a chat about the Mumbai attack. I am coughıng and have blocked ears from the lurgy Ive had for a couple of weeks so Im not much up for a chat. Anyway he wants to know what frux means - frux I say through coughıng and splutterıng, yes Miss, frux. Oh Ok I say and then burst ınto major coughing attack. He says thanks and wanders off. About half an hour later I realıse that he was askıng what flux meant as ın state of flux (ıe Mumbaı after attack) and that I have left him wıth impression that flux means coughing. So the next tıme he and his buddıes are watchıng BBC and someone says the the sıtuatıon ıs ın a state of flux they are goıng to thınk that there ıs a state of coughıng and wheezıng.
Just doing my bit to further confuse non-englısh speakers all around the world....
Dier Ez-Zur
Survived not being bombed by Americans at the sıtes just near the Iraq border. Happy about that.
It was raining and muddy. While exploring sıte of Mari (google it - very old and imp sıte) I slıpped over and fell ınto an excavation pıt. Fortunately dıd not break anythıng ımp (lıke old bıts of 5000 year old pottery or any of my bones). Luckily only bruised my ego and was glad that there was no one around to see me humiliate myelf. When I got back to my taxı my driver he was trying not to laugh at me - he and the 5 villagers that lıved there, attempt to clean me up wıth a hose wıth a trıcklıng of water and a box of tissues. Needless to say that had little impact of the worlds stickiest clay.
Will post adventures of Turkey soon.
Stuck wıth a Turkish keyboard so pls forgive any random spelling, missing punctuatıon or odd looking letters.
Am currently in Malatya. Possibly the friendliest cıty ın Turkey. Got here 2 days ago and have been looked after so well - no-one speaks much english but there is generally always someone around who does speak some.
Ive been fed so much tea that I am sıck of the sıght of it - and have got another 2 months of tea beıng constantly fed to me. Oh well,if thats my only complaint........
So far not too much excitıng has happened, but there have been a few crınge worthy or laugh out loud moments that are worth sharing.
Palmyra
Im a bıg fan of Syria and quite love Palmyra (2nd AD on - lots of ruins - generally a tops place). I thınk the photos should be up by now.
So Im wanderıng around Palmyra and get accosted by an older bloke who wants me to pay him to guide me - I decline. But hes up for a chat about the Mumbai attack. I am coughıng and have blocked ears from the lurgy Ive had for a couple of weeks so Im not much up for a chat. Anyway he wants to know what frux means - frux I say through coughıng and splutterıng, yes Miss, frux. Oh Ok I say and then burst ınto major coughing attack. He says thanks and wanders off. About half an hour later I realıse that he was askıng what flux meant as ın state of flux (ıe Mumbaı after attack) and that I have left him wıth impression that flux means coughing. So the next tıme he and his buddıes are watchıng BBC and someone says the the sıtuatıon ıs ın a state of flux they are goıng to thınk that there ıs a state of coughıng and wheezıng.
Just doing my bit to further confuse non-englısh speakers all around the world....
Dier Ez-Zur
Survived not being bombed by Americans at the sıtes just near the Iraq border. Happy about that.
It was raining and muddy. While exploring sıte of Mari (google it - very old and imp sıte) I slıpped over and fell ınto an excavation pıt. Fortunately dıd not break anythıng ımp (lıke old bıts of 5000 year old pottery or any of my bones). Luckily only bruised my ego and was glad that there was no one around to see me humiliate myelf. When I got back to my taxı my driver he was trying not to laugh at me - he and the 5 villagers that lıved there, attempt to clean me up wıth a hose wıth a trıcklıng of water and a box of tissues. Needless to say that had little impact of the worlds stickiest clay.
Will post adventures of Turkey soon.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Miles to Go
The adventure begins
Amman, Damascus, Palmyra
I should have realised that going from Melbourne to Palmyra (middle of Syria) in one haul, after a 12 hour unplanned stopover in Bangkok, was a bad idea.
Got to share taxi stand in Amman for the trip to Damascus. 3 years ago the share taxi trip to Damascus was a debacle - for those that haven't heard the story please read on - the rest of you can just skip ahead.
Feb 2006 - Craig and I get a share taxi (normal cab, 4 people pay a set price for each seat), there's 3 passengers, us and a Syrian girl. We pay our $10 and arrange to go to Baramke terminal in Damascus. The driver seems dodgy, he's sleazy and he's driving around in circles trying to get us to pay for the 4th seat so we can go. We pay. The whole way to the Syrian border this guy is trying to sleaze onto the Syrian girl, trying to stop to buy her tea and well, being a total tosser. We get to the border then the fun starts, he tells Craig and I that it's extra money from here and tries to get more money out of us. I've had it by now and get angry and threaten him with the police (lots around at this point) so he behaves a bit.
We get to the outskirts of Damascus and he announces "Damascus" and stops the cab and gets out. This is not Baramke. The Syrian girl leaves. Craig and I are standing next to the cab, with my getting angry and Craig being quiet and looking somewhat scared (of what I might do to the cab driver). Other cabs pull over, people start to cluster around, I'm refusing to backi down and in pigeon english and hand signals I am telling the assembled crowd that we pay our money and want to go to Baramke, I am getting nods of yes right and a few people having a go at the cabby (no-one likes Jordan cab drivers so they were an easy crowd to win over).
More people start gathering, clearly the most drama anyone has seen for days - but neither me nor the cabby are going to back down, we both want to save face. In exasperation the cabby goes to the boot and tries to pull out our backpacks - I hop in the boot and sit on backpacks, cross my arms and say "Baramke". The crowd quietens. Craig starts to look really worried. The driver gets his wallet out and pays another cabby to take us to Baramke. Much stifled giggling from the crowd. Our new driver is telling the story to all the other drivers as we go along. Hilarious to all the other drivers. It takes me a day to see the funny side of it.....
Anyway back to 2008.
After my last experience I was not feeling so hot about getting the share taxi again - but I'm not one to learn from my mistakes so I try it again. I'm half expecting to see my picture up with a "warning - do not take this crazy woman to Damascus".
This time I'm sharing with Mahammoud and his daughter, Rina. Rina lives in Lebanon but holds a Jordanian passport and has been in Amman for the day trying to work out how to get her new born baby daughter a Jordanian passport - Rina's husband is a Palestinian. She couldn't get one and is keen to get home to her baby. I should add Rina is in full burkha, and clearly was not allowed to go to Amman without a male relative. I decide to pay for the extra seat so we can get a move on. M and R are just lovely. I have somewhere to stay in Beirut anytime I am in that town. We get to Damascus and an argument starts between M and the cabby - something about Baramke is all I call tell. Yep, he doesn't want to go to Baramke. This I cannot believe. Argument continues. And continues. We stop and get out. Argument continues. But no theatrics required this time. Cabby hands over enough for the fare to Baramke to M and we head off.
Anyway M takes me to the bus station for Palmyra, totally out of his way, but he really wanted to help. He gets me to the right counter for my ticket and bids me farewell - what a sweet old guy.
I head over to bus. Strap on backpack breaks, I stumble and fall over, backpack falls to ground in mud puddle. humiliating. Find sewing kit and sit on steps, with a growing audience and do some emergency repairs.
Was very happy to get to Palmyra that night - some 50 hours after I left Melbourne.
Amman, Damascus, Palmyra
I should have realised that going from Melbourne to Palmyra (middle of Syria) in one haul, after a 12 hour unplanned stopover in Bangkok, was a bad idea.
Got to share taxi stand in Amman for the trip to Damascus. 3 years ago the share taxi trip to Damascus was a debacle - for those that haven't heard the story please read on - the rest of you can just skip ahead.
Feb 2006 - Craig and I get a share taxi (normal cab, 4 people pay a set price for each seat), there's 3 passengers, us and a Syrian girl. We pay our $10 and arrange to go to Baramke terminal in Damascus. The driver seems dodgy, he's sleazy and he's driving around in circles trying to get us to pay for the 4th seat so we can go. We pay. The whole way to the Syrian border this guy is trying to sleaze onto the Syrian girl, trying to stop to buy her tea and well, being a total tosser. We get to the border then the fun starts, he tells Craig and I that it's extra money from here and tries to get more money out of us. I've had it by now and get angry and threaten him with the police (lots around at this point) so he behaves a bit.
We get to the outskirts of Damascus and he announces "Damascus" and stops the cab and gets out. This is not Baramke. The Syrian girl leaves. Craig and I are standing next to the cab, with my getting angry and Craig being quiet and looking somewhat scared (of what I might do to the cab driver). Other cabs pull over, people start to cluster around, I'm refusing to backi down and in pigeon english and hand signals I am telling the assembled crowd that we pay our money and want to go to Baramke, I am getting nods of yes right and a few people having a go at the cabby (no-one likes Jordan cab drivers so they were an easy crowd to win over).
More people start gathering, clearly the most drama anyone has seen for days - but neither me nor the cabby are going to back down, we both want to save face. In exasperation the cabby goes to the boot and tries to pull out our backpacks - I hop in the boot and sit on backpacks, cross my arms and say "Baramke". The crowd quietens. Craig starts to look really worried. The driver gets his wallet out and pays another cabby to take us to Baramke. Much stifled giggling from the crowd. Our new driver is telling the story to all the other drivers as we go along. Hilarious to all the other drivers. It takes me a day to see the funny side of it.....
Anyway back to 2008.
After my last experience I was not feeling so hot about getting the share taxi again - but I'm not one to learn from my mistakes so I try it again. I'm half expecting to see my picture up with a "warning - do not take this crazy woman to Damascus".
This time I'm sharing with Mahammoud and his daughter, Rina. Rina lives in Lebanon but holds a Jordanian passport and has been in Amman for the day trying to work out how to get her new born baby daughter a Jordanian passport - Rina's husband is a Palestinian. She couldn't get one and is keen to get home to her baby. I should add Rina is in full burkha, and clearly was not allowed to go to Amman without a male relative. I decide to pay for the extra seat so we can get a move on. M and R are just lovely. I have somewhere to stay in Beirut anytime I am in that town. We get to Damascus and an argument starts between M and the cabby - something about Baramke is all I call tell. Yep, he doesn't want to go to Baramke. This I cannot believe. Argument continues. And continues. We stop and get out. Argument continues. But no theatrics required this time. Cabby hands over enough for the fare to Baramke to M and we head off.
Anyway M takes me to the bus station for Palmyra, totally out of his way, but he really wanted to help. He gets me to the right counter for my ticket and bids me farewell - what a sweet old guy.
I head over to bus. Strap on backpack breaks, I stumble and fall over, backpack falls to ground in mud puddle. humiliating. Find sewing kit and sit on steps, with a growing audience and do some emergency repairs.
Was very happy to get to Palmyra that night - some 50 hours after I left Melbourne.
Away, Away
Well not quite....
Bangkok airport intervened in what should have been a 29 hour trip to Amman (Jordan) had an extra 12 hours added on.
I've always thought long haul international travel was the 10th layer of hell, so was quite happy to get upgraded to business class for the leg to Hong Kong - the individual beds and latest series of Dr Who kind as well! But that was to end, rather ubruptly with a stop in Bangkok. I didn't even know I was going via Bangkok until we landed and the crew said, "umm dunno how long we are going to be here, maybe we will leave again soon". 12 hours later we left - it could have been much worse.
There was an ugly Australian on the flight who insisted on yelling at the Thai ground staff, who also had no idea what was going on, and was really the most obnoxious person I've had the misfortune to deal with in recent times. I'd had enough of his bellyaching after a while and told him off - I had a good yell at him and felt much better after that.
I'd rather not relive the rest of the flight, had very stinky Sudanese guy next to me, crying and screaming toddlers a few rows back and a guy behind me who insisted on bringing up his flem every 5 minutes. The less said about the flight the better.
Bangkok airport intervened in what should have been a 29 hour trip to Amman (Jordan) had an extra 12 hours added on.
I've always thought long haul international travel was the 10th layer of hell, so was quite happy to get upgraded to business class for the leg to Hong Kong - the individual beds and latest series of Dr Who kind as well! But that was to end, rather ubruptly with a stop in Bangkok. I didn't even know I was going via Bangkok until we landed and the crew said, "umm dunno how long we are going to be here, maybe we will leave again soon". 12 hours later we left - it could have been much worse.
There was an ugly Australian on the flight who insisted on yelling at the Thai ground staff, who also had no idea what was going on, and was really the most obnoxious person I've had the misfortune to deal with in recent times. I'd had enough of his bellyaching after a while and told him off - I had a good yell at him and felt much better after that.
I'd rather not relive the rest of the flight, had very stinky Sudanese guy next to me, crying and screaming toddlers a few rows back and a guy behind me who insisted on bringing up his flem every 5 minutes. The less said about the flight the better.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Georgia Feb 2007
Getting to Tbilisi was a debacle.
Pay for bus from Trabzon to Tbilisi (US$30 should take 20 hours - about 600k) - bus driver seemed dodgy - should have payed attention to instinct and not hopped on bus. Get close-ish to Georgian border, bus pulled over by police - seems that the driver doesn't have the right paperwork - 1 hour later and with my ticket confiscated by police we start again. Not happy. About 15k from border bus breaks down - by this point there are only 3 passengers left. Driver makes some attempt at looking like he knows how to fix the engine but it won't start (probably dodgy Georgian petrol). Driver leaves bus, hails down a car and just scarpers off, no explanation no nothing. Getting less happy. It's getting dark and it's a dodgy looking area so I decide to hitch to the border. All fine.
Border is chaos. Old Georgian ladies elbowing me and stomping on my feet to try to break into the scrum that should have been a queue. My passport is a novelty to the immigration officials (who all had lovely new department of homeland security computers and scanners - replete with large stickers so you couldn't not know that the USA paid for them) they all take a look at my strange looking passport and the visa from the countries I've been to and question why I would want to visit Georgia - clearly think I am mad - I am starting to think that as well.
About 2 hours later I find myself on the Georgian side of the border and it's very dark, I have no Georgian money - ATM broken - and there is no bus to Tbilisi. Find taxi driver who extrorts US$ out of me for a trip to Batumi, the nearest town.
Decide that I really need a drink but hotel I end up in is a bit dodgy and while close to the centre of town (200m) there are no street lights and the area is basically shop after shop of poker machines so I stay put and try to get some sleep.
But it's so cold. Heater not working, power and lights shaky at best. Put on all clothes that I have and lay there shivering til about midnight.
The people in the next room roll in - seems to be about 5 men and 1 woman - they sound quite drunk and they are truly the noisiest people ever. Lots of arguing and then a bunch of them leave their room - I think ah peace. No. TV goes on, on high volume and then they start with incredibly loud and lengthy sex - eventually ends - I think ah peace. No. The next guy comes into the room and the whole thing starts again - at this point I realise that these guys have hired a hooker and they are taking 'turns' and I am never going to get any sleep. Not brave enough to bang on their door or leave room to complain to management.
Next day am tired and grumpy. 1 bus only at midday so spend the morning waiting on said bus trying to snooze. Bus takes about 7 hours to get to Tbilisi as the roads are in really bad condition.
The whole way there is dotted with fallen down grand old houses, masses of abandoned factories - the place just looks broken. It looks like people just upped and left. Not everybody could leave and there are tens of soviet style housing highrises that look like they are in the process of being demolished but no - this is where all the people seem to be. A lot of refugees from the disputed border areas and breakaway regions. Even the churches are falling down. Depressing.
Georgian language is incomprehensible - the script may as well be chinese. in the way of signs there is very little in Cyrillic and nothing in latin script so getting from A to B was always going to be a challenge. I made friends with everybody on the bus (well they enjoyed laughing at me) with my attempts to write down the address of my hotel in georgian - this provides for a good hour of amusement for all.
Getting to my hotel showed the true georgian spirit of welcoming guests. Firstly when I try to get out of bus at the station there are a bunch of taxi drivers grabbing at me - the bus driver decides he didn't like that so he puts me back on the bus and once everybody else was off the bus he and the conductor try to take me to my hotel.
The streets are a bit narrow for a passenger bus but this doesn't deter my protectors who stop off to get me a special treat - special sparking mineral water and some bread - all good. They find hotel Beau Monde but it's the wrong one - why are there 2 hotels with the same name?.
This day just gets better - at this point I really don't care what hotel I stay in. But "No problem, no problem, we find your hotel" - so a conference of about 15 guys is held in the middle of a busy street - with the bus blocking the street, phone calls are made, taxi is a negotiated and I am packed off to the right hotel. But the day ended well with the place I am staying in being quite fancy, food great, rooms spotless and they give you red wine. It's all good.
Tbilisi is fantastic. Like the rest of georgia it looks like whole parts have been abandoned for 20 years but at least here there are signs of a recovery - museums are amusingly soviet bad, churches wonderful - and so friendly, I have been fed communion bread about 20 times today.
The russky's did a pretty good job of trying to destroy the religion (georgia was the second christian country and the georgian orthodox church while having some similarities to the russian and greek churches is very proudly georgian) but its been rebuilt and the Georgians hid their icons and artwork from the commies so they have been able to put many things back together again.
Pay for bus from Trabzon to Tbilisi (US$30 should take 20 hours - about 600k) - bus driver seemed dodgy - should have payed attention to instinct and not hopped on bus. Get close-ish to Georgian border, bus pulled over by police - seems that the driver doesn't have the right paperwork - 1 hour later and with my ticket confiscated by police we start again. Not happy. About 15k from border bus breaks down - by this point there are only 3 passengers left. Driver makes some attempt at looking like he knows how to fix the engine but it won't start (probably dodgy Georgian petrol). Driver leaves bus, hails down a car and just scarpers off, no explanation no nothing. Getting less happy. It's getting dark and it's a dodgy looking area so I decide to hitch to the border. All fine.
Border is chaos. Old Georgian ladies elbowing me and stomping on my feet to try to break into the scrum that should have been a queue. My passport is a novelty to the immigration officials (who all had lovely new department of homeland security computers and scanners - replete with large stickers so you couldn't not know that the USA paid for them) they all take a look at my strange looking passport and the visa from the countries I've been to and question why I would want to visit Georgia - clearly think I am mad - I am starting to think that as well.
About 2 hours later I find myself on the Georgian side of the border and it's very dark, I have no Georgian money - ATM broken - and there is no bus to Tbilisi. Find taxi driver who extrorts US$ out of me for a trip to Batumi, the nearest town.
Decide that I really need a drink but hotel I end up in is a bit dodgy and while close to the centre of town (200m) there are no street lights and the area is basically shop after shop of poker machines so I stay put and try to get some sleep.
But it's so cold. Heater not working, power and lights shaky at best. Put on all clothes that I have and lay there shivering til about midnight.
The people in the next room roll in - seems to be about 5 men and 1 woman - they sound quite drunk and they are truly the noisiest people ever. Lots of arguing and then a bunch of them leave their room - I think ah peace. No. TV goes on, on high volume and then they start with incredibly loud and lengthy sex - eventually ends - I think ah peace. No. The next guy comes into the room and the whole thing starts again - at this point I realise that these guys have hired a hooker and they are taking 'turns' and I am never going to get any sleep. Not brave enough to bang on their door or leave room to complain to management.
Next day am tired and grumpy. 1 bus only at midday so spend the morning waiting on said bus trying to snooze. Bus takes about 7 hours to get to Tbilisi as the roads are in really bad condition.
The whole way there is dotted with fallen down grand old houses, masses of abandoned factories - the place just looks broken. It looks like people just upped and left. Not everybody could leave and there are tens of soviet style housing highrises that look like they are in the process of being demolished but no - this is where all the people seem to be. A lot of refugees from the disputed border areas and breakaway regions. Even the churches are falling down. Depressing.
Georgian language is incomprehensible - the script may as well be chinese. in the way of signs there is very little in Cyrillic and nothing in latin script so getting from A to B was always going to be a challenge. I made friends with everybody on the bus (well they enjoyed laughing at me) with my attempts to write down the address of my hotel in georgian - this provides for a good hour of amusement for all.
Getting to my hotel showed the true georgian spirit of welcoming guests. Firstly when I try to get out of bus at the station there are a bunch of taxi drivers grabbing at me - the bus driver decides he didn't like that so he puts me back on the bus and once everybody else was off the bus he and the conductor try to take me to my hotel.
The streets are a bit narrow for a passenger bus but this doesn't deter my protectors who stop off to get me a special treat - special sparking mineral water and some bread - all good. They find hotel Beau Monde but it's the wrong one - why are there 2 hotels with the same name?.
This day just gets better - at this point I really don't care what hotel I stay in. But "No problem, no problem, we find your hotel" - so a conference of about 15 guys is held in the middle of a busy street - with the bus blocking the street, phone calls are made, taxi is a negotiated and I am packed off to the right hotel. But the day ended well with the place I am staying in being quite fancy, food great, rooms spotless and they give you red wine. It's all good.
Tbilisi is fantastic. Like the rest of georgia it looks like whole parts have been abandoned for 20 years but at least here there are signs of a recovery - museums are amusingly soviet bad, churches wonderful - and so friendly, I have been fed communion bread about 20 times today.
The russky's did a pretty good job of trying to destroy the religion (georgia was the second christian country and the georgian orthodox church while having some similarities to the russian and greek churches is very proudly georgian) but its been rebuilt and the Georgians hid their icons and artwork from the commies so they have been able to put many things back together again.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
The Rest of Georgia and Armenia - Feb 2007.
From the wilds of Armenia...... Back in Feb 2007
Bloody Iranians. Rejected for a visa three times - tried to pay the requisite bribes and that still didn't work. Don't know why they hate me. Anyway that was a couple of weeks ago and after much swearing and stomping of my size threes I decided to take the hint and accept that I wasn't getting into Iran. I am over it. But hey all the sympathy I had for their isolation and plight is gone - stuff em.
Anyway back to the Caucuses. Georgia rocks.
Only totally humiliated myself once.....You'd have thought by now that I would have learnt to avoid shortcuts, but no. Went up to one of the major landmarks in Tbilisi - Mother Georgia - she stands on a big hill (quite an attractive lady for a 20m white aluminium statue) in one hand she has a wine goblet to welcome her guests and in the other she has a sword to fight off her enemies - she pretty much sums up Georgia - welcoming to guests but don't cross her.... (postscript from Nov 2008, well actually the Russians managed to cross georgia and win, so my foreign policy analysis from 2007 wasn't very good!)
Anyway after climbing up all the way there i didn't fancy going back the way I came. So a shortcut seemed like a bright idea. Climbed down a fairly steep hill for about 100m and then got to a top of a church and couldn't get down any further except via a 10m rock face - I'm not known for my rock climbing skills. (un)luckily about 15 people were standing outside the church and could see my predicament and sent up a couple of youngsters to show me how to climb down - this produced great amusement - then the people in the church abandoned their service to see what the commotion was outside - priest included - and came out to watch. I'm a bloody idiot.
The roads are bloody awful - like one large pothole occasionally broken up by a small bit of bitumen, just enough to make you realise how bad the roads are.
Saw some very cool old churches, including some in caves on the Azeri border, and also went to see Gori - Stalin's birthplace. Interesting. Especially the english tour that they were giving the Germans - the guide spent most of the tour talking about how Stalin crushed the German's in WWII .....I had to try to stop giggling.
The poor Georgians haven't quite "got" capitalism. Each town you pass through (slowly, very slowly) has it's own roadside vendors, first town was selling tomatoes, next place sells cucumbers, next place sells bread - so by the time you've got half way accross the country you'd be able to make a sandwich. And, they were competing on price, how dumb is that, driving cucumber seller down to the lowest price isn't going to result in a booming local, nor an easy to make sandwich.
Armenia
I thought Georgia would be hard to beat for friendliness and stuff to see but Armenia topped it. First night in I went to the Opera (as you do) - couldn't understand any of it but it was cool and I thought it was some shakespeare thing, I was betting on Othello - actually it some local play about some important King - but hey it seemed a bit like Othello to me.
While at the Opera a girl (Anna) of about 25 tripped over my feet, I apologised alot, and she was just staring at me - when she finally worked out that i was speaking English she happily chatted away to me - turns out i was the first native English speaker she'd ever run into. Anna invited me to visit her workplace - she worked at the local Armenian equivalent of the Vatican - the Armenians were the first Christian Country and are some form of Orthodox.
So popped out to see her, involved getting badly lost, a share taxi and a mini bus but eventually made it out there and tracked down were Anna worked. I got taken on a tour of the various churchy bits by some novice priests (monks? - guys in brown robes) and met the 2IC of the Armenian Orthodox Church - they clearly don't get many visitors. The highlight was being taken into the private collection, my lonely planet said it exisited but it was really hard to get into unless you were some foreign dignatory (or in my case a scruffy looking Aussie) - they had religious icons from all over the world including a bit of the original crucifix (it was about 5cm long and looked really old - wasn't able to authenticate it).
At the end of my religious experience my trusty gorup of guides (by now I had about 7 people taking me around) started asking about Australia, church and asked about my local church. I admitted, stupidly, that I wasn't religious. The the conversation turned to baptisms - I (stupidly, this is becoming a theme...) said that "No, not baptised", at which point the 2IC of the Church and my 6 other guides just looked shocked and then starting looking at the pond (which was half frozen) as if to say, "well, lets baptise this heathen". I must of looked a little wary because they didn't push it.
The rest of this Blog should have the following tales in it:
Bloody Iranians. Rejected for a visa three times - tried to pay the requisite bribes and that still didn't work. Don't know why they hate me. Anyway that was a couple of weeks ago and after much swearing and stomping of my size threes I decided to take the hint and accept that I wasn't getting into Iran. I am over it. But hey all the sympathy I had for their isolation and plight is gone - stuff em.
Anyway back to the Caucuses. Georgia rocks.
Only totally humiliated myself once.....You'd have thought by now that I would have learnt to avoid shortcuts, but no. Went up to one of the major landmarks in Tbilisi - Mother Georgia - she stands on a big hill (quite an attractive lady for a 20m white aluminium statue) in one hand she has a wine goblet to welcome her guests and in the other she has a sword to fight off her enemies - she pretty much sums up Georgia - welcoming to guests but don't cross her.... (postscript from Nov 2008, well actually the Russians managed to cross georgia and win, so my foreign policy analysis from 2007 wasn't very good!)
Anyway after climbing up all the way there i didn't fancy going back the way I came. So a shortcut seemed like a bright idea. Climbed down a fairly steep hill for about 100m and then got to a top of a church and couldn't get down any further except via a 10m rock face - I'm not known for my rock climbing skills. (un)luckily about 15 people were standing outside the church and could see my predicament and sent up a couple of youngsters to show me how to climb down - this produced great amusement - then the people in the church abandoned their service to see what the commotion was outside - priest included - and came out to watch. I'm a bloody idiot.
The roads are bloody awful - like one large pothole occasionally broken up by a small bit of bitumen, just enough to make you realise how bad the roads are.
Saw some very cool old churches, including some in caves on the Azeri border, and also went to see Gori - Stalin's birthplace. Interesting. Especially the english tour that they were giving the Germans - the guide spent most of the tour talking about how Stalin crushed the German's in WWII .....I had to try to stop giggling.
The poor Georgians haven't quite "got" capitalism. Each town you pass through (slowly, very slowly) has it's own roadside vendors, first town was selling tomatoes, next place sells cucumbers, next place sells bread - so by the time you've got half way accross the country you'd be able to make a sandwich. And, they were competing on price, how dumb is that, driving cucumber seller down to the lowest price isn't going to result in a booming local, nor an easy to make sandwich.
Armenia
I thought Georgia would be hard to beat for friendliness and stuff to see but Armenia topped it. First night in I went to the Opera (as you do) - couldn't understand any of it but it was cool and I thought it was some shakespeare thing, I was betting on Othello - actually it some local play about some important King - but hey it seemed a bit like Othello to me.
While at the Opera a girl (Anna) of about 25 tripped over my feet, I apologised alot, and she was just staring at me - when she finally worked out that i was speaking English she happily chatted away to me - turns out i was the first native English speaker she'd ever run into. Anna invited me to visit her workplace - she worked at the local Armenian equivalent of the Vatican - the Armenians were the first Christian Country and are some form of Orthodox.
So popped out to see her, involved getting badly lost, a share taxi and a mini bus but eventually made it out there and tracked down were Anna worked. I got taken on a tour of the various churchy bits by some novice priests (monks? - guys in brown robes) and met the 2IC of the Armenian Orthodox Church - they clearly don't get many visitors. The highlight was being taken into the private collection, my lonely planet said it exisited but it was really hard to get into unless you were some foreign dignatory (or in my case a scruffy looking Aussie) - they had religious icons from all over the world including a bit of the original crucifix (it was about 5cm long and looked really old - wasn't able to authenticate it).
At the end of my religious experience my trusty gorup of guides (by now I had about 7 people taking me around) started asking about Australia, church and asked about my local church. I admitted, stupidly, that I wasn't religious. The the conversation turned to baptisms - I (stupidly, this is becoming a theme...) said that "No, not baptised", at which point the 2IC of the Church and my 6 other guides just looked shocked and then starting looking at the pond (which was half frozen) as if to say, "well, lets baptise this heathen". I must of looked a little wary because they didn't push it.
The rest of this Blog should have the following tales in it:
- mad Armenian party for my taxi drivers uncles 75th birthday out in the wilds of rural armenia.
- Ski Lifts in Armenia (who'd of thought?)
- a roaring argument with taxi drivers in Prague (when will taxi drivers learn not to cross me)
- an intense dislike of one former Yugoslavian country - grrrr.
- The accidental trip to croatia, which turned out to be excellent.
And another bunch that i should write about at some point.
Turkey Feb 2007
Eastern Turkey Feb 2007
Photos -
http://picasaweb.google.com/MSherrin/EasternTurkey2007#
Have had an excellent time on the first 2 weeks of my eastern turkey, caucuses and iran (hopefully) trip. Highlights so far have been old armenian church on a little island in Lake Van and the most wonderful friendly people. Not seen another western tourist - I seem to be the only person mad enough to think a trip like this is a good idea.
Georgia is truly one of the strangest countries I have ever visited. But I should start from the start.
I am supposed to be in Iran but the saga with that ever elusive visa continues so in some new hope of getting my Iranian visa I headed to Dogubuyazit in eastern Turkey where my new found friend Zafer, the travel agent, runs a sideline in getting visas, for a price, for people who have failed through the usual channels and need a 'tour' to be arranged so a visa can be obtained. But I hold no real hope.
Dogubuyazit is about 35k from the Iranian border and the region is a significant place in terms of biblical history, Armenian history and Kurdish separatism. It's a real frontier town, complete with many soldiers, tanks, frequent ID card or passport control checks, a thriving black market and is completely un-Turkish. I should add that it's winter over here and everything is covered in snow and ice and it's f**ing cold.
Mt Ararat rises up over the town and it is spectacular. The place where some believe Noahs Ark came to rest was worth a visit - the actual site is covered in about 6 foot of snow but still very interesting. Over the years Dogubuyazit has been controlled by the persians, armenians and the russians and the old capital has certainly seen better days. I've attached some photos above of the old seat of the capital - Ishak Pasa Palace (1685) and the other sights.
Public transport is a bit thin on the ground so I hired a car and driver (Ibrihim) to get around. The guidebook says that soccer is the Turkish national obsession - but nah it's not, it's petrol prices. A litre is 3 lira - about $2.70 (imagine the outcry in Aust if petrol was that expensive... it'd be the end of little johnny). Over the border in Iran it's about 9cents - so yep there is a fair bit of smuggling going on.
Ibri (as he likes to be called) takes me to a"cheap cheap iranian benzine" place in Dogu where it is only 2 lira. As we go around the region he takes me to places where the price is as low as 1lira - he seemed to have some network of cousins who know where to find the cheap petrol - "miss, miss it is kurdish benzine and we are kurds so it is our benzine". Not sure about the accuracy - but anyway.
Unsuprisingly there are many, many abandoned petrol stations in the region and a fair proportion of the Jandarma are involved in trying to stop the flow of cheap petrol - surprise road blocks where if you have an extra container of fuel you are fined (or shot) etc etc. Just before the roadblocks you see a whole bunch of trucks pulled up with their drivers furtively trying to put their "spare" fuel either back into their truck or sell it to passers by - this all seems to happen just away from the view of authorities and is the the subject of much amusement to Ibri and all the other drivers that he meets on the way. I asked Ibri who was making all the profits from the smuggled petrol - "oh miss there are many people, many people we must pay bribes to".
But it ain't all good petrol....on my last night in Dogu, Zafar and his friend, with an unpronounceable name which sounded something like issi, take me out of town for fine kurdish dining (mutton chops and salad) and on our way back the car dies. So picture this, it's pitch black, we are way out of town, the roads are covered in snow or thick, greasy ice and the wind chill factor was right up there. These 2 guys have no idea how to get this car going - Zafar manages to flood the engine. We try to push start the car - Issi and I are pushing the car, slipping over on the ice and laughing at poor Zafar who is mortified that his female guest is pushing the car. The car kinda starts does some bunny hops and dies again - repeat above steps for 1k or so. By this time Zafar is swearing in some strange strangled sounding langauge and screaming that the "iranian benzine is corrupt" and then over pulls a very fancy car with two well dressed kurdish men - I think spiffs is the best way to descibe them - they looked like mafia guys. They try to fix car - fail - so that's 4 men standing around an engine making hmming noises and not knowing what they are doing. I am wet, from falling over about a dozen times on the ice, almost frozen and trying not to laugh at this absurd situation. The new guys put me in their car and drive me back to my hotel, (leaving Zafar and issi to deal with their car), these two don't seem to speak a word of english but insist on feeding me corn chips and some strange pickled celery - bizarre mob the Kurds - always trying to either feed you or give you a cup of tea.
The next day I quiz Zafar about them - and yup the guys were the local mafia and control the flow of iranian benzine. How cool - never thought I'd meet real mafiosa types or that i'd meet them in Turkey.
Enough of that. The sights of eastern Turkey are awesome - the area has only just opened up to tourism and I was the only tourist around. Highlights included some bloody old armenian orthodox churches - the area is all old Armenia, a bunch of very cool Seljuk castles and so much snow.
One arvo we got cut-off from Dogu by a blizzard - had a challenging time finding a hotel that Ibri thought would be OK for me to stay in because there was no way that we were getting over the mountain back to Dogu. Ibri and Zafar had the whole network of cousins ringing in on mobile phones trying to work out what the hell they were going to do with me and where they could possibly find an OK hotel out in the rather rough wilds of the area - I tried to explain that I was not fussy but to no avail. I think the main problem was that most hotels are brothels for the iranian truck drivers. All was fine though - it always is.....
On hotels, at some point remind me to tell you about Frank, the rat, and the lack of heating that brought us together one chilly evening.
From Dogu I headed to Trabzon. Nice enough city on the Black Sea - but has some problems with ultra right wing nationalism and soccer violence. Trabzon is where the Catholic priest was murdered last year and where the killers of the pro Armenian journo who was recently shot down are from. So it has issues. But the people I met while getting hopelessly lost about 3 times (stupid lonely planet map) were very friendly - insisting on personally escorting me to whatever I was trying to find and insisting on feeding me or giving me tea.
Next stop Georgia......
Photos -
http://picasaweb.google.com/MSherrin/EasternTurkey2007#
Have had an excellent time on the first 2 weeks of my eastern turkey, caucuses and iran (hopefully) trip. Highlights so far have been old armenian church on a little island in Lake Van and the most wonderful friendly people. Not seen another western tourist - I seem to be the only person mad enough to think a trip like this is a good idea.
Georgia is truly one of the strangest countries I have ever visited. But I should start from the start.
I am supposed to be in Iran but the saga with that ever elusive visa continues so in some new hope of getting my Iranian visa I headed to Dogubuyazit in eastern Turkey where my new found friend Zafer, the travel agent, runs a sideline in getting visas, for a price, for people who have failed through the usual channels and need a 'tour' to be arranged so a visa can be obtained. But I hold no real hope.
Dogubuyazit is about 35k from the Iranian border and the region is a significant place in terms of biblical history, Armenian history and Kurdish separatism. It's a real frontier town, complete with many soldiers, tanks, frequent ID card or passport control checks, a thriving black market and is completely un-Turkish. I should add that it's winter over here and everything is covered in snow and ice and it's f**ing cold.
Mt Ararat rises up over the town and it is spectacular. The place where some believe Noahs Ark came to rest was worth a visit - the actual site is covered in about 6 foot of snow but still very interesting. Over the years Dogubuyazit has been controlled by the persians, armenians and the russians and the old capital has certainly seen better days. I've attached some photos above of the old seat of the capital - Ishak Pasa Palace (1685) and the other sights.
Public transport is a bit thin on the ground so I hired a car and driver (Ibrihim) to get around. The guidebook says that soccer is the Turkish national obsession - but nah it's not, it's petrol prices. A litre is 3 lira - about $2.70 (imagine the outcry in Aust if petrol was that expensive... it'd be the end of little johnny). Over the border in Iran it's about 9cents - so yep there is a fair bit of smuggling going on.
Ibri (as he likes to be called) takes me to a"cheap cheap iranian benzine" place in Dogu where it is only 2 lira. As we go around the region he takes me to places where the price is as low as 1lira - he seemed to have some network of cousins who know where to find the cheap petrol - "miss, miss it is kurdish benzine and we are kurds so it is our benzine". Not sure about the accuracy - but anyway.
Unsuprisingly there are many, many abandoned petrol stations in the region and a fair proportion of the Jandarma are involved in trying to stop the flow of cheap petrol - surprise road blocks where if you have an extra container of fuel you are fined (or shot) etc etc. Just before the roadblocks you see a whole bunch of trucks pulled up with their drivers furtively trying to put their "spare" fuel either back into their truck or sell it to passers by - this all seems to happen just away from the view of authorities and is the the subject of much amusement to Ibri and all the other drivers that he meets on the way. I asked Ibri who was making all the profits from the smuggled petrol - "oh miss there are many people, many people we must pay bribes to".
But it ain't all good petrol....on my last night in Dogu, Zafar and his friend, with an unpronounceable name which sounded something like issi, take me out of town for fine kurdish dining (mutton chops and salad) and on our way back the car dies. So picture this, it's pitch black, we are way out of town, the roads are covered in snow or thick, greasy ice and the wind chill factor was right up there. These 2 guys have no idea how to get this car going - Zafar manages to flood the engine. We try to push start the car - Issi and I are pushing the car, slipping over on the ice and laughing at poor Zafar who is mortified that his female guest is pushing the car. The car kinda starts does some bunny hops and dies again - repeat above steps for 1k or so. By this time Zafar is swearing in some strange strangled sounding langauge and screaming that the "iranian benzine is corrupt" and then over pulls a very fancy car with two well dressed kurdish men - I think spiffs is the best way to descibe them - they looked like mafia guys. They try to fix car - fail - so that's 4 men standing around an engine making hmming noises and not knowing what they are doing. I am wet, from falling over about a dozen times on the ice, almost frozen and trying not to laugh at this absurd situation. The new guys put me in their car and drive me back to my hotel, (leaving Zafar and issi to deal with their car), these two don't seem to speak a word of english but insist on feeding me corn chips and some strange pickled celery - bizarre mob the Kurds - always trying to either feed you or give you a cup of tea.
The next day I quiz Zafar about them - and yup the guys were the local mafia and control the flow of iranian benzine. How cool - never thought I'd meet real mafiosa types or that i'd meet them in Turkey.
Enough of that. The sights of eastern Turkey are awesome - the area has only just opened up to tourism and I was the only tourist around. Highlights included some bloody old armenian orthodox churches - the area is all old Armenia, a bunch of very cool Seljuk castles and so much snow.
One arvo we got cut-off from Dogu by a blizzard - had a challenging time finding a hotel that Ibri thought would be OK for me to stay in because there was no way that we were getting over the mountain back to Dogu. Ibri and Zafar had the whole network of cousins ringing in on mobile phones trying to work out what the hell they were going to do with me and where they could possibly find an OK hotel out in the rather rough wilds of the area - I tried to explain that I was not fussy but to no avail. I think the main problem was that most hotels are brothels for the iranian truck drivers. All was fine though - it always is.....
On hotels, at some point remind me to tell you about Frank, the rat, and the lack of heating that brought us together one chilly evening.
From Dogu I headed to Trabzon. Nice enough city on the Black Sea - but has some problems with ultra right wing nationalism and soccer violence. Trabzon is where the Catholic priest was murdered last year and where the killers of the pro Armenian journo who was recently shot down are from. So it has issues. But the people I met while getting hopelessly lost about 3 times (stupid lonely planet map) were very friendly - insisting on personally escorting me to whatever I was trying to find and insisting on feeding me or giving me tea.
Next stop Georgia......
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