When you’re on the road for so long everything begins to
become a blur. Maybe not a blur but a
bleeding into each other like spilt paint on a Jackson Pollock canvas. Intense splatters of vibrancy mixed with dirt
and filth from your shoes. The canvas
going on forever and the work of creating a meaningful image never ending.
So where am I with this giant paint brush called over landing?
We left Baku and headed out for another bush camp in
Gobustan – home of the mud volcanoes.
There are a few ways to view this one:
a mud volcano site where we camped or a camp that had mud
volcanoes. How you see it depends on
where you look – and how you step! It’s
one of those sites where you make the most of it while there but don’t
particularly see yourself making the effort to go again. It made for good practise in how to gauge
where and when you make a move and a chance to see with fresh eyes.
After that it was a rather unceremonious border crossing
into Georgia. Nothing to it! I kind of felt cheated not having to deal
with nonsensical inefficiency, laborious wait times and no toilets. Sigh.
The days of living in fear that my scissors could be seen as a weapon of
mass destruction are now over. Perhaps I need to consider black market caviar...
Another night camping at the Lagodheki Nature Reserve in
Georgia. My god what a beautiful
place! So much green So much nature! Sadly, it was pouring rain so a good hike was
out of the question and time was also limited.
Unlike the mud volcanoes this is a definite do over. Nature is best experienced alone or with the
ones you love. And am I the only one
that finds the sound of rain on your tent incredibly soothing? Even though I know my sleeping bag will be
soaked in the morning and I will rue the day I agreed to such misadventure?
Our next stop was Sighnaghi – a mountain town inspired by
Italian architecture and oozing romance from its pores. Being here gave us a welcome break from the
“crowd’ and a chance to drift in peace and with coffee. We found an old “fixer upper” with a
spectacular view that I envisioned as an open spaced gallery/coffee bar/book
store (with cats!) and a giant living space loft upstairs. Of course, it means we need to learn Georgian
and get in good with the Russian mafia who actually own the town…
Eventually our wandering took us to the old city walls and an abandoned church that appeared to have been reclaimed by Sarah McLachlin's voodoo dolls and suicide poem ex boyfriend. I don't think there is anything quite like finding a house of God now being used as a squatter's personal shrine to the hereafter. Old photos, newspaper clippings, candles in various stages of existence and crosses made from retired tree branches. The old cemetery also had spectacular views. Georgian grave markers always have an image of the one who passed which kind
of makes sense really – you feel like you “know” them as you walk by. It becomes a personal connection between
souls. It makes it that no matter how
much time has passed and no matter who comes by, there is a gentle curiosity
and a remembrance. As with all sacred
space, the space made for children is the most poignant. A little boy in a sailor suit. A young man in his prime with his car. A teen age girl smiling in a summer dress and
heels. Lives lost before their time but
lives remembered in their most joyous moment.
On our way back to town we had a strange encounter with a
local woman and her elderly parents. She
offered us a tour of the town but we declined as it was evening. Her English was quite good and she said she
had worked as a translator in Tbilisi but had to return home to care for her
parents. She asked for money to help
them out and in return told us this fantastical story about how the wall in
town was actually older than the Great Wall of China but that Genghis Khan had
come and tore it all down. She invited
us into her home which was STACKED with books and then proceeded to show us her
“English Books” that she used to learn the language. These consisted of a first edition print of
“Death and the Maiden”, a Penguin Classic copy of Oliver Twist and a Jacqueline
Suzanne-esque novel circa 1971 about a bi-sexual man’s romances in Paris,
London as NYC as a fashion photographer.
Then it got weird…
She proceeded to bring out bags and bags of medications and
drugs and wanted Ken to tell her what they were and what they were used
for. Then she told us about her research
at Oxford university on Agatha Christie and the Use of Cyanide. She kept saying she was an expert researcher in “detective novels” and that the government now black listed her because of
it. I don’t know. Seems plausible…. We gave her enough money to buy bread and
eggs with Ken feeling somewhat apprehensive about all the drugs she had with Russian labels...
We will be making a four day crossing into Armenia before
heading back into Georgia. Another night
of camping BUT three days in Yerevan.
Unlike Africa where camping was the best part we are finding it the
hardest part of this journey. Camp has
always been a “tense” aspect of this journey and after the dock incident, the
desire to isolate has become even stronger for us. Ken shared his feelings with Simon on the
boat and on that end, he feels heard and understood. As for the other end? It has frighteningly gone back to normal in
an “this never happened” kind of way…
 |
| Here's mud in your eye! |
 |
| Dragon Scales |
 |
| Mud Volcano! |
 |
| Mud avalanche! |
 |
| Textured |
 |
| Doing my little thing on the Cat Walk! (Sighnaghi, Georgia) |
 |
| "I'll take those rib bones and bread on the floor to go please." |
 |
| Our house in the middle of the street - Sighnaghi, Georgia |
 |
| Grey Beard and Button Nose |
 |
| Ken goes for the epic landscape shot from eternity |
 |
| Cat on a Cool Tile Roof |
 |
| Little Boy Lost |
 |
| A bit of Canada in Georgia |
 |
| Young man look at your life - I'm a lot like you are |
 |
| Love Among the Ruins in Sighnaghi |
 |
| Taxi Conga Line - Sheki, Azerbajian |
 |
| Being an Ass at the Khan's Summer Residence - Sheki, Azerbaijan |
 |
| Fabulous Georgia Fungi |
 |
| Reflecting... |
 |
| "You live in a church where you sleep with voo doo dolls" |
 |
| Georgian Goodness! |
 |
| Sheep Wallpaper anyone? |
 |
| Love in the Mountains of Georgia |
 |
| The beginning of growing old together |
 |
| A long and winding road... |
