Silk Road

Sacha Baladian organized a taxi – Mercedes – to drive us to Tbilisi and stopping thru’ the Debet canyon areas. We have a good driver, proper music. It’s a pity, it’s raining again. Kim had prepared a CD last night for our trip. Unfortunately there is no CD driver in this car.
Lunch in Pamak in a container restaurant by the river. Khoravats (Armenian barbecue) with salad and cheese deliciously prepared by an old lady.  Two stops only at Odzin and Haghpat monasteries, the 2^nd one being Unesco World Heritage. Both of them ravaged and sacked the Tamerlane. Terrible guy! Can’t wait to see his birth place in Samarkand. Reaching Tbilisi early at 17H00.

Given the diplomatic relations between Armenia and Azerbaijan, we could not mention to one that we are visiting the other country. We are now writing on our trip since Armenia, through Azerbaijan and then Kazakhstan.

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Perseverance pays. The Azerbaijan embassy finally gave us the visa after the 4^th visit and 120 Euros.

It is too late to travel by a marshrutka. The last one leaves Tbilisi – Ortachala station at noon. So we settled for a taxi, negotiated by Devid at 200 Lari. We should be there by 18H00 ie 5 hours later. The travel is in an old Mercedes with the pictures of 3 orthodox saints protecting our loud journey. Loud as the Georgian music and the hot weather. It seems we jumped suddenly into summer.

Border crossing: Georgian side with French passport to avoid showing the Azeri visa. Armenian side with the Mauritian passport. The passport officers were lost and even my world map could not help them to decide if we were from Madagascar or Mauritania. Nevertheless, they let us in without too much trouble and with a smile.

I am struck by how European Erevan and its people are with cafés, fashion, operas, and churches. Contrasting with a persistent old attitude remains. A sort of sadness contrasting with their love for life, music, arts and cognac. A strong will to fight for the identity and a kind of acceptance of their condition as if it will always remain unimproved.

The supra is quite something with music, songs and dancing. It is a place where no one is inhibited. This is not a Georgian quality. By the end of the evening all tables of the restaurant act like one single party and drink, toast and sing together. The Georgian national anthem would come in without notice and uniting all of them standing up and singing almost in tears, joined in an absolute patriotic urge. And the party will continue stronger after. It is not easy to drink so much but avoid getting drunk. Food is there to accompany the drinks and not the other way round. And one should never steal wine ie drink outside a toast.

We deserved another round of toasts with 13 people table and tamada after the visit of the old capital Mtskheta. The 4th century old capital is Georgia’s spiritual heart where Christianity started. It is now a UNESCO world heritage. The dinner finished too late for the Barcelona- Real Madrid match.

Trip to Kakheti region at Signaghi, small village in the North. Splendid village looking at the Caucasian mountains with snow peaks rising to nearly 4000m and the Alazania River and valley at our feet. Sad to know the Chechnya lies on the other side of the mountain (Russia).Wine growing region, breathtaking beauty from the little village completely renovated.

Lunch started late afternoon there and ended at 18H30 with great Georgian red wine.

Excursion with a full load of Koreans. Obviously we were all considered as Koreans. The fairy chimneys of Cappadocia are totally unreal, like carved by giants. We finally booked the Goreme – Trabzon trip for tomorrow evening which means that tomorrow will be an easy day with late morning sleep. The bed is quite a treat by itself. One has to choose which muscle is to be supported by which mattress spring.  Once this is achieved, a good sleep lies ahead. Tonight we are out for a special dinner with Anatolian delicacies

Longeant la Mer Noire, nous avançons vers l’est et au fur et à mesure nous constatons plusieurs choses. Nous nous éloignons des touristes et rentrons réellement à l’intérieur du pays. Peu de gens parlent autre chose que le turc. Même à Göreme, les seuls qui partaient plus loin étaient les quelques rares vrais voyageurs. En même temps, la population rencontrée est d’une gentillesse extrême. Il nous découvre avec une curiosité toute enfantine. A Göreme, les paysans regardaient passer les cars de touristes comme nous nous regardions les vaches et les moutons. Un contraste des deux mondes. Loin d’Istanbul nous pouvons sentir le contraste des attitudes avec une élite urbaine occidentalisée d’une part et un monde paysan plus conventionnel.  La plupart des femmes ici ont la tête couverte naturellement et sans intention ostentatoire.

Mais partout jusqu’aujourd’hui, l’image de Mustafa Kemal reste absolument présente. Il jouit d’un prestige et d’un respect incontestable et inégalable par aucun politicien depuis 1938. Chaque bureau, chaque école n’ont qu’une photo de lui jusqu’à maintenant. Aujourd’hui est la fête de l’Indépendance, le peuple exprime à la fois son identité nationaliste très fortement et aussi une reconnaissance éternelle à Ataturk.