Soviet mosaics

Let the photos talk!

Georgian Military Highway

There are few roads through the Caucasus. On the way to Kazbegi I experienced pleasure driving the so called ‘military highway’ that connects Tbilisi to the North Ossetian capital of Vladikavkaz in Russia. The road is less potholed than expected and offers roadside sheep fur hats shops, cow stables on every single bridge, many different pig promenades and astonishing collection of Soviet mosaic art. Due to Russian-Georgian disputes (they all blame it on Putin) the border is closed so the ‘highway’ is dead end, but Kazbegi is a great base for relaxing and hiking for a few days.

Soft boiled in Tbilisi

Tbilisi (= Hot water) was founded in AD 452 and named after the sulphurous hot springs in which you can still bathe today. And so we did. The baths bear a resemblance to a pleasant Ottoman hamam with an irreplaceable Soviet touch. The thermal water of 70 degrees smells of rotten eggs. When I finally forced myself in I could only think about two things: first of how did an unfortunate man feel when a merciless chieftain cooked him; and second how some parts of my body are slowly getting soft boiled.

Man of Steel

Gori seems just too appropriate a name for Stalin’s birthplace. But bad old Stalin is still revered here as a local boy made ‘good’. His huge statue stares out across Stalin square which leads up Stalin avenue to Stalin museum in front of which his original home is enclosed in a poor looking temple. We got a ‘light side of the moon’ tour of the place in a company of two nice Spanish girls and an Italian fascist who came to see the museum of the ‘great’ statesman with his kebab eating pit-bull dog.

Long live USSR

From Kutaisi we hit the ‘road’ to northern Racha (120 km of potholed road took 7 driving hours). The road ended high in the mountains few kilometres from the Russian North Ossetia border in the dilapidated and very undesirable Soviet sanatorium (retreat), whose most important feature is a rare decaying silver statue of a seated Stalin. The sanatorium further offered a ping-pong table but unfortunately half of the ball was missing. You have already heard of the miserable breakfast served by never smiling canteen ladies.

Pizza from Hell

The Georgian main source of nutrition is the Khachapuri, cheese pie. As this is nice the first and maybe second time it is extremely tiring the fifth. But the search for something else is oh so vain. The pizza visible on the picture is possibly the worst pizza ever. Instead of tomato sauce it has a layer of chopped dill (!) under the canned mushrooms and the topping of big lumps of mayonnaise (!) and ketchup! Another striking example of Georgian cuisine is the breakfast of cold spaghetti with nothing and a plate of watery porridge.

Caucasus

We entered the Caucasus region starting in the Georgian coastal town of Batumi. The first days it seemed we also entered a madhouse. It is rather hard to drive as there are pigs and drunkards (hard to tell the difference sometimes) in the middle of the road everywhere. Vodka is the key word to this country.

After a rather depressing dinner the first evening we where walking home as the rain started to pour down. In a not very bright moment we decided to take shelter in one of the numerous “poker clubs”. We invested two euros in a pointless game of spinning fruits on a machine. As we were walking out, the owner (a scary guy with a four centimeter long, deep scar in his forehead and very Russian looks) stopped us. He pushed us into his small office and returned after five minutes with (no, not a weapon) a weird cake (rulltårta) and a bottle of vodka. With Peter’s stuttering Russian we toasted to love, brother nations and women. He soon went for another bottle and we were scared to refuse the never ending toasts. The night ended with instant coffee in another strange joint.
Two days later we drove to Kutaisi and, believe it or not, when we stopped at a gas station, the same guy, Georgy, showed up! After a few minutes we found ourselves in the same position as before, now joined by Georgy’s cousins, uncle and friends. They ordered a big feast in a private room of a restaurant (you could bring your own vodka and beer), again numerous toasts. This time the night ended less happy. After a visit to a dance palace, local dancing is very funny, the smallest of Georgy’s friends picked a fight with the band and all the guys joined. As we hid in our car the fight continued on the street until the police showed up. We now found out the probable reason of Georgy’s forehead scar. In Sweden police stop fights, here they simply beat up the participants. We returned to Georgy’s house (nowhere else to go in the middle of the night, we never had time to get a hotel) with the guys black and blue and bleeding from noses and knees.
From now on we avoid poker clubs.



Notice the bottles of champagne, vodka, wine, beer... on the table.

Kaçgar Dağı

We escaped the rainy and lush landscapes of north eastern Turkey to Kaçgar mountains that form the northern section of Anatolian mountain chain. As we drove high up in the mountains on a horribly detoriated road, tea plantations gave way to pines in the higher altitudes. We escaped the humidity and enjoyed some beautiful walks.

Boğazkale

After a no pleasant day spent in Ankara we drove 200 km east to Boğazkale. The guidebook suggests ‘it is a pleasant place to spend the night, with such noise as there is coming from honking geese, crowing cockerels and braying donkeys’. It was all true since we ended up staying in a garden full of apple trees and an ageing rooster with a sore throat (Deniz of Aşıkoğlu, thanks for your hospitality). The sleepy little village has one bakery, a few small shops and two çayhanes (tea houses). As we parked in front of a bakery, Shlakiyah's nazar,... drew Murat’s attention who promptly invited us to a çayhane. Soon after, we all ended up touring Hattuşa, which cover a hilltop to the south of the village. Hattuşa was once a capital of Hittites, a people who formed one of the eldest Anatolian civilizations, who conquered Babylon and signed world’s first peace treaty with the Egyptian pharaohs, over 3000 years ago. Today the ruins are spreading out over 6 km in length and comprise a few statues, walls, probably one of the oldest tunnels, and rock carvings. The whole site is strangely tranquil; due to its antiquity and absence of tourist crowds.

Kontrastverkan II

Som ni markt ar vi alltsa i Asien nu, för tillfallet Trabzon pa Svartahavskusten i östra Turkiet, Anatolien. Det kanns pa nagot satt skönt att ha lamnat Balkan bakom sig.

Kontrasten mellan de manniskor vi mötte i Balkanlanderna och de vi pratar med har ar stor. Samma fattigdom finns har men Turkiet har, enligt The Economist, för narvarande en tillvaxt pa sju procent. Motsvarande siffra i Serbien bör vara mycket lagre. Folk gör business, de vet att de klarar sig och de ar oerhört vanliga (med prickar)(de flesta). Idag fick vi plastblommor i present nar vi fragade om priset. I Boğazkale bodde vi gratis sen vi bjudit varden pa ett glas vin. Nar vi tankade bjöd bensingubben in oss pa te. Ingen socialistisk misstanksamhet.

Samtalsamnena ar ocksa andra har. Pa Balkan gick det inte att prata om politik utan att folk drankte en i hatpropaganda. Alla hatar nagot grannfolk. Serberna hatar bosnierna och turkarna, macedonierna hatar grekerna som hatar dem tillbaka, albanerna hatar den grekiska minoriteten osv.
-Om Kosovo blir sjalvstandigt blir det ett nytt krig, viskade den serbiske gubben.
-Snart vill albanerna i Macedonien ha sjalvstandighet, da blir det krig, viskade den macedonske gubben.

Har, a andra sidan, gar det knappt att prata politik, i Turkiet finns inga politiska problem havdade var vard i İstanbul. Militaren har inget att saga till om, menade han. Det armeniska folkmordet eller kurderna kan man inte namna utan att bryta allvarligt mot konvensionen, ingen skulle erkanna nagot fel.

Över lag ar det alltsa skönare stil har. Relaxat. Valkomnande.

Ülgens

During my previous visits to the city I used to stay on the European side of the Bosporus, in the şehir merkezi called Sultanahmet. This time for a change we stayed on the Asian side of the city in Yeni şehir as guests of Remzi and Sibel. Thank you very much for introducing us to huge variety of turkish delights and everyhing else! Thanks also goes to my dear friend Arda, who set us up all the way from Aachen. Enjoy the wedding in Tunis!

Balık

Balık = fish. And not any fish but a minute-fresh one that we ate at the Golden Horn overlooking the Bosporus in? Yes İstanbul. The İstanbuli fish burger is bought right off the boat where men in silly uniforms are grilling fish filet, sweating like hell and proving a marvelous sence of balance as the waves are more than meter high. You have to fight with the hungry crowds to get hold of the half baguette filled with onions and fish from which you usually have to pick out a big strap of bones. After the first one we had to share yet another one.

Bling Bling!

After travelling for a month I boiled over Anna's never-ending questions: ‘Älskling, what time is it?’ Therefore I bought her a ‘golden’ watch on Istanbul’s bazaar for equivalent of 3 euros.

In the Heavens Above

We wanted to visit the Holy Mountain but only males are allowed entrance, because according to Dalrymple in the 11th century it came to the ears of the Byzantine Emperor that the monks were in the habit of debauching the daughters of the shepherds who came to the mountain to sell milk and wool. Therefore ıt was decreed that nothing female - no woman, no cow, no mare, no bitch - could step within its limits.

Hence we visited much more touristic Meteora, which is the second largest complex of Orthodox monasteries in Greece, second only to The Holy Mountain. 6 monasteries were built on rock pillars in the 16th century.

Kontrastverkan

Vi har natt Asien, narmare bestamt İstanbul. Och vi bor ater i familj, hos föraldrar till en turkisk kompis. Fast den har gangen ar det extremt lyxigt istallet för fattigt. De bor i nagot slags USA-influerat höghusomrade som ar avsparrat av murar, för att komma in maste vi identifiera oss för en vakt. Innanför murarna bor ca tre tusen manniskor, det finns café och restaurang pa en liten ö mitt i en artificiell flod som rinner ner i ett lika artificiellt vattenfall. Graset ar exakt jamnt klippt, det finns flera pooler med turkost vatten, i lagenheten finns ett kylskap som rymmer tjugosex agg i dörren, tretton pa rad. Pa morgonen hanger tidningen och ett farskt bröd pa dörren, sedan kör man bilen genom sakerhetsgrindarna till jobbet. Har inne kan man leva och dö utan att nagonsin se verkligheten.

Beach

We bought a yellow umbrella (parasoll) and got stranded in Greece for a few days. Wonderful but expensive, according to some Greeks the prices went up by more than a hundred percent since the euro was introduced. Capuccino is at least 3 euro, camping was 21 euro for the two of us, hence we stayed in a camp only one night, the rest we spent parked right on the beach - could be worse.