26/5/2019 1 Comment The weight of historyEverywhere in Georgia we see old ladies who can't walk up straight anymore. They are shuffeling about to a shop or so, an endeveaur that must take them hours, we assume, even if we never timed it. Yes, we do have a lot of free time on this year off, but also not that much.
We have been speculating a lot about why these women are so bent over. Mostly we talked about how they carry the weight of history on their shoulders. Let us not forget that Georgian women of a certain age lived most of their lifes under communist rule, some even grew up during the terror of Stalin, who was a native Georgian but didn't do them many favours. Another explanation we thought of is that women do most of the work. In the villages we pass it's hard not to notice that it's almost always the women who are busy. It's the women who work the land, manage the livestock, or run the little shops. In the meantime you can find the men somewhere hanging around drinking chacha with their friends. While all of this is true, we can't help but see a much more obvious cause for their crippled forms - they all use these ridiculously short brooms to sweep. So yes, history has been cruel on these woman, and yes, many of the men here are completely useless, but that's no excuse not to buy an adequately long broom.
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Why make detours through the hills, if there is a shorter and less hilly road? We found an answer to that question: because good things happen at the top of a hill. Here's some examples to prove our point.
On our way to Zugdidi we had one big hill to climb. When we got the top and were catching our breath a man asked us if we spoke German. We confirmed that we do a little, only for him to change to Megrelian, a local language. He made us follow him to the local shop and a minute later we had ice cream and vodka in our hands. We were soon surrounded by what felt like the whole village who all wanted to hear what we were doing and to be in a photo with us. On our way out of Zugdidi on yet another steep hill we were catching our breath. Across the street there was a woman standing outside. She waved, then disappeared into her garden to cut a bunch of roses for Acacia. A small gesture, but it says so much about Georgian generosity. That day we had set ourselves a goal, the top of what seemed to be the first part of the three day climb to Mestia. We saw some people next to what looked like a little holiday house. We cautiously asked if we could camp in the large garden, but only moments later we found ourself sitting around the table with plenty of wine and food, and the keys to the house. After about an hour this friendly bunch went home and we had the whole place for ourselves. They even left behind a dog who guarded us all night. The last and maybe best example of our top-of-the-hill-theory was when we were leaving the high Caucasus mountains, which didn't mean there were no steep climbs left. Just as we got to the top of one those stretches we saw some men hanging around their cars which were loaded up with branches. They waved us to stop and a little cautiously we did so. Moments later they had layed out a whole picnic for us on the hood of their car and Acacia was having a ride on their horse. 26/5/2019 0 Comments Where is everybody?During our first days in Georgia we biked along the Black Sea coast and stayed in a completely deserted village called Magnetiti. Our guidebook said it was one of the most popular Georgian resort towns. The black sand and the low-hanging mist over the sea gave a distinctly distopian feel, but some locals assured us that the season hadn't started yet. The many deserted hotels made us doubt that. That doubt only grew bigger when a week later we made a day trip from Zugdidi to Anaklia.
Anaklia is a small seaside village right on the border with Abkhazia where a consortium of American and Georgian companies is building a new deep-sea port. The port should be operational in two years, they told us. Yet there's only a small local road leading up to Anaklia. No signs yet of the promised new highway or the railway that will connect the port. In anticipation of what maybe one day could be a lively port town, they have built four or five big hotels. We had lunch in one of them, sitting next to the empty pool and surrounded by stray dogs. Except for two other people, there was nobody there. We then crossed the landmark pedestrian bridge to the next beach. Again, nobody there. There was an abandoned waterpark, some delapitated marquees and bars from a festival that was held there until two years ago, and an eerily empty promenade. Anaklia has all the elements to be a bustling tourist hotspot; but on this scorching day in mid-May, the glaring lack of people made for a surreal couple of hours on the beach. 26/5/2019 0 Comments Samuel and TinnekeShortly after arriving in Georgia we got to Zugdidi where we spent a week catching up with friends from Brussels - Samuel and Tinneke. They took us on a roadtrip through the Adjara region, a night in Batumi, kayaking in Kolkheti National park, and most of all showed us some of their life in Georgia. We had a lovely time off our bikes and being shown around.
They both work for the EU Monitoring Mission (EUMM). The EU has had a mission here since the 2008 conflict between Russia and Georgia, over the autonomous regions of Abkhazia and South Ossetia. In short, the EU keeps on eye on Russian activity by patrolling the Georgia-Abkhazia border. Our friends told us that while speaking with villagers on the border, Russian interference wasn't always the most pressing issue. One of their key concerns is an invasive insect that is devastating hazelnut crops, the main staple. Those who get away lucky have seen half of their crops wiped out, the less fortunate have lost up to 90 percent. Another anecdote which stuck with us was from an 80 year old woman, living alone on a farm high up in the mountains. She wasn't scared of the Russians, but of the wolves who had recently ambushed her and her livestock and chased her up a tree. The Russians might be scary, but not compared to a pack of wolves. 15/5/2019 0 Comments We're not the only onesWe had been looking forward to taking a boat across the Black Sea for a long time so it was with nervous anticipitation that we boarded the Drubja ferry in Burgas, Bulgaria at the beginning of May. No one could really tell us when we were leaving, or how long it would take, so we turned up with a few hours to spare. Eight hours later, and as we slept tucked away in our in little cabin, the ferry rolled out of the harbour - direction Georgia.
What followed was three nights and two days at sea, no land in sight, a huge amount of canteen food and very little activity. Being forced to do nothing was great and before long we had settled into the rhythm of life at sea. We ate, slept, read, walked around the deck (or prison yard as we came to call it) and chatted with the other passengers. This ferry line is primarily used by truckers, who made up the bulk of the passengers. We didn't share any common languages unfortunately, but we witnessed many heated discussions between different nationalities, a lot of attention being payed to the tv showing the pope's visit to Bulgaria, and quite a bit of clapping when Putin came on tv. Besides the truckers, we met five other cyclists doing variations of our trip. Afternoons and evenings were spent drinking beers, swapping tales, checking out the magnificient sunsets, and poring over maps of the countries to come. There was our old friend Eric - who we've introduced before, another Frenchman Marius who biked up to 140km a day - from 6am to 8pm, Corrina and Stephan who are on their pension and were heading to Uzbekistan, and finally Jörg who had left his job and apartment in Bern and was cycling the same route as us before heading north to Russia, then back south again towards Australia. We cycled with Jörg for a couple of days in Georgia and he told us more incredible tales, such as his three year biking trip from Egypt to South Africa. Being at sea for two days was at times mind-numbingly boring and at others wonderfully simple and pleasant. It was made all the more fun by the great people we met and who we hope to bump into again along the way. 15/5/2019 0 Comments hard life choicesWe looked for a boat across the Black Sea from Constanta to Georgia - didn't exist - and from Varna - only goes once a month - but in the end we found one from Burgas, a port on the Bulgarian coast not that far from the Turkish border. It meant we had to do about 300km in four days through mountanious terrain, a little too ambitious for us. So we made a plan: we would bike about 150km to Varna and from there rent a car to drive along the coast to Burgas.
On the first day, still recovering from the festival, we got stuck in the port of Constanta and kept ending up on a highway, a place where we really didn't want to be. The second day we did our biggest ride so far, even though we had to keep looking for alternatives to that same highway, and had to cross a border. The result was that we ended up camping on some construction site next to some dumpsters. So that's how on the third day while having our lunchbreak in Balchik, after about 40km, we were faced with the following options:
Guess what we did? 15/5/2019 0 Comments Sun Waves FestivalWe were in Vidin, a small city in the west of Bulgaria and we were doubting if we should go to this music festival, which meant taking a train right across Romania. Two things convinced us to go. First, we thought it would bring a nice variation to the life on our bikes. Second, before we had left some of our friends had put together some money for an AirBnB during the festival. Their gift voucher said: "Only 6.400km to go. Dancing at the Ibiza of the East Bloc". So we took a train, had a 22 hours stop in Bucharest to tick some of the touristic boxes, and made our way further east to the coast. It turned out to be a very good choice to do so.
Let us first tell you something about the location. Mamaia is a very narrow strip of land just north of the port city of Constanta. It's a 10km stretch full of appartments, restaurants, hotels and a lot of clubs. It was the orthodox Easter weekend, so most people had the weekend off. Never in our lives have we seen so many fancy cars. The parking lots of the clubs and hip bars by the beach were completely packed with Ferrari's, Massariti's, Bentley and even some Rolls Royces. Most of their owners looked about our age. We had no doubt they got their vehicles through hard and honest work. And we had no doubt that their botoxed girlfriends had surgery only for medical reasons. The festival itself was on the beach, a beautiful location. The concept is pretty straightforward: the first dj presses play and about six days later the last one presses stop. The crowd was a fascinating mix of what we call British chavs (centre picture), Russians maffia guys (right picture) and some other very eccentric people which all in all made for fantastic people watching. What they all share is a love for electronic music, which we have too, and they all just wanted to have a good time, as did we. And it definitely was a great time, so thanks to all our friends who tipped in for our stay. |
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