Ulaanbataar, pt1

[Massimo, Cecilia and the bikes, Baku Customs Terminal]

When we last met we were about to get on the ferry in Baku. Well, as I write this I am sitting in a comfortable Ger (traditional Mongolian tent) just outside of the capital of Mongolia, Ulaanbataar.

I can hardly believe that it has only been a couple of (four) weeks or so since my last entry. But first get yourself a cup of coffee or whatever and get comfortable, as this is long very long, so in order to make it more readable, not to mention getting something up on the net for you to read I have had to break it down into various pieces, this covers the Ferry ride, and the first part of Turkmenistan. Enjoy.

We got to the ferry terminal bright and early (ok, 8:00), and were told that it would be open at 8:30. As we were sitting there waiting, another biker shows up, Massimo from Italy. He rides up in a nice clean GS1200 and seems to be very glad to meet someone else on bikes. We chat while waiting for the office to open. He has come overland from Italy, and has been on the road for a little over a month, and is planning a round trip back to Italy via Russia!!

At 9:00 the lady finally showed up. She then proceeded to take us to the other office and the gentlemen there drinking their morning coffee told us to come back in half an hour. While waiting, Matthew shows up. Matthew is our companion for the tour of Turkmenistan, and had sms'd us the previous night that he was in town, and would let us know about the ferry as soon as he found something out. Well, here he was, so now the four of us go over the office and the officer starts checking our papers.

First problem, Massimos visa starts the following day, so they refuse to sell us the ticket until mid-day. This apparently to keep us from getting on a ferry that arrives in Turkmenbashi before his visa starts. It doesn't matter that we aren't even together, he refuses to sell any of us a ticket, at least until 12:00.

At the same time he informs us that the cost will be 170$ per person and bike. When Matthew asked (Matthew spoke Russian, which was very helpful to sort all this out), how much it would be for him, the officer said he didn't know. What? Matthew went back to the other office where the lady was, and discussed the issue with her, she also told him that she didn't know. Apparently, they, the lady from the one office, and the officer from the other, would have to discuss how much to charge poor Matthew, and he would find out in the afternoon, when they would sell us the tickets! So Matthew goes back to the hotel to pack his things, we decide that we want to go to town and have a nice leisurely breakfast. For us this solution is also the right one as the boat ride is supposed to take around 12-13 hours and our guide is supposed to meet us the following day around 9:00 in the morning. So we also don't want to get on a ferry that gets us there too early. It was just that the whole thing was so surreal. Little did I realize it was going to get even worse.

After Matthew left, we re-parked our bikes and I was arranging for someone to watch them while we were gone, when a car with a customs official shows up and speaks to Cecilia. Cecilia then informs us that, that is the customs officer who will prepare our papers and he wanted her to come down to the customs house with our paperwork.

So off she goes. She returns 30 minutes later with the news that we all have to go down there, and that the customs official is pretty mad at Massimo! When we got down there, he greeted us friendly enough, and then got to Massimo, and asked him why he was late? Late; apparently he was supposed to have show up the previous day, as his import permission had run out then. Oh, boy, maybe we should get away from this guy! Anyway, the customs official wasn't happy. Massimo explained that he had gone to the customs office they had told him to go at the border, and there he had explained about the transportation and they had said it was ok. No problem. Yeah, right, here was a problem. The customs official took this pretty hard, and yelled at him about that the bike should have been here etc. etc. He (the customs official) then ran off, with his mobile to his ear, into an adjacent building and didn't re-appear for 20 minutes. When he finally showed up, he gives us all our receipts and various documents for the bikes, and tells us that everything is ok. We should not leave the port are as the bikes are no longer in the country! He even managed a half-smile (at least at Cecilia).

We then decided that we would go ahead and bring the bikes into the customs compound so that there would be no more problems. While we were at it the customs official informs us that the next ferry (at 13:00) would not take passengers as it is loaded with tanker cars (train wagons with airplane fuel). We could get on the next ferry at around 17:00. So, now our bikes were safely packed away in the customs compound, it was almost 12:00, the time we had agreed to meet Matthew so that we could buy our tickets, so it made no sense to go into town anymore. We settled for tea at a snack bar in the port area. By the way for those of you who are really interested the co-ordinates to the Baku ferry port is: N40 22.383 E49 51.890. (The new terminal across from the Abseron hotel was not working yet, and would only be a passenger terminal anyway, so if you have a vehicle you have to find this dock.)

At 12:00 Cecilia went and got Matthew and we all sat around drinking tea, discussing the very strange situation, and the fact that we have yet to find out what the price for Matthew was going to be. As we were sitting there the ticket officer comes by, pointing at his watch and making it clear that he had been expecting us at 12:00, and why were we sitting here having tea? He wasn't happy, and we couldn't really figure out why, what difference did it make if we showed up 30 minutes later? Anyway, we were literally marched up to the ticket office. Once there, he started talking to Matthew in Russian, and Matthew turned to us told us he thought that the officer was saying that the price was now going to be $140.00 and if that was ok with us? To confirm this the officer wrote the figure out on paper, $280 for Cacilia and I and $140 for Massimo, and $50.00 for Matthew, a total of $470.00. We all said that it would be ok with us! Hey, it is $30.00 per person cheaper, than what he had originally quoted us. At the same time, we also found out what it would cost Matthew, so he was happy. We all got our money out and he wrote out a single ticket for the four of us.

The receipt was then written out for 297.80 azm (New Azerbaijan Manat) which is around $280.00!! For those keeping track, we paid $470.00 or around 500.00 azm, we assume the officer pocket the difference (202.20 azm). At this point we weren't really interested and just wanted to get on the ferry. I don't think it would have made any difference anyway. We took our ticket and headed down to the port.The first thing our friend the customs inspector said was that we had to go and pay an additional "service" fee (Bridge tax!!) at a building back toward where we had just come. So off we go. There we were shown into a very shabby office where a gentleman looked at our ticket asked for a passport and went off. When he came back, he said it would be $20.00 for the three of us. He made it clear that it was only for handling of the motorcycles, so only Massimo, Cecilia and I had to pay. How that came out to $20.00 we weren't sure. The receipt was in Cecilia's name since it was the passport he had gotten. The receipt was for 9.03 azm, so, surprise, surprise, he was also cashing in!

Now were were ready to go through customs and immigration. Customs demanded that we unload out bikes and take the luggage through the x-ray machine in their office so we did. Well, almost, we only showed them our large bags. The tank bag and the boxes stayed on the bikes. After that immigration stamped our passports and we were ready to get on the boat. Sounds nice and easy, took 1 1/2 hours, and we weren't on the boat yet!As we were packing and waiting, we noticed that we hadn't seen Matthew in 30 minutes, where was he? Well, it turns out that he had a stamp in his passport for Armenia, and due to the political situation between Azerbaijan and Armenia, he was being grilled by the customs. What had he done there, who had he talked to, where had he gone. He was forced to show the officers all the pictures in his digital camera! When he finally came out he was pretty much a wreck. But he had his exit stamp and could get on the ferry. Next was Massimo, he also had visited Armenia. Pretty nervous, he walked in, and in 15 minutes was finished. They had asked the same questions but I guess they were much happier with his answers. Not to mention that since Matthew spoke Russian, they could ask a lot more questions! Anyway, we were now ready, the ferry had loaded the last train cars and we were told to get on. So we rode on, and almost immediately the ferry left the dock (it was 15:00).


[Matthew, still at the dock!! (click to enlarge)]

Pretty cool, we were going to get moving ahead of schedule! As we were leaving the dock, we look back and there is Matthew. We though that he had already gotten on board, but there he was on the dock. Oh, boy. The ferry backs up and re-docks at the jetty across from where we had just been. We though that they had noticed that we had left Matthew behind, but it turns out that another ferry was coming in and needed this particular jetty to unload. So our ferry was just shifting positions! But for a while there we were worried that we were going to Turkmenistan without Matthew!Back at the dock, and Matthew safely aboard, a deckhand fetches us and brings us to the captain who isn't at all very friendly. Through the deckhand who happens to speak a little English, we are offered a "comfortable" cabin for $20.00, which we took, and are promptly shown the worst cabin I have ever had the pleasure of habiting. Not even the run down ferries in Indonesia had cabins this dirty and decrepit. Holes in the walls, door broken, ever single fixture broken or missing, and I don't even want to start on the shower and toilet. The best that could be said is that they did work. Nevertheless it was a place to lay down and sleep, so we took it.

Next, the captain started to talk about that we had to pay a service charge for tying down and parking our bikes in the hold. At the same time he asked for our ticket. Unfortunately we didn't have the ticket. Cecilia was sure that one of the people back at the dock had kept it after examining it. The ticket was checked by at least a half-dozen people before we came on board. Anyway since we didn't have the ticket, and Matthew still wasn't over his scare with the immigration, Cecilia went off to look for it, while I argued with the captain regarding the "service" charge, and Massimo stood by looking very bemused. I simply refused to pay and after a while of cross discussions regarding the lack of "service" and the fact that we had already paid a "service" charge for what we believed was exactly this "service" or lack thereof, the captain stormed away in a huff and we got off not paying any more. I was particularly adamant about not paying, since they had in fact not provided any service at all. If anything they were more un-helpful than helpful, and we did everything ourselves, with our own equipment. The captain couldn't even argue that we were using ships equipment (ropes, tie-downs, etc.) to secure our vehicles! I almost felt sorry for him. It really looks like he is at the end of a chain of officials who all cash in on the tourist or travelers, and he wants his cut also, but of course the more efficient everyone else is the less is left for him to cash in on!! In particular the ticket office guys seem to be able to cash in the best.

After 30 minutes or so, Cecilia comes back and says that she needs her passport, so she gets it from the captain and takes off again! After another 45 minutes she comes back. No-one at the dock had the ticket, so she had to go back to the ticket office to get a copy. The guys at the customs got someone to drive her up to the ticket office and driver her back, since they said it was too far to walk! All thought that I was pretty mean, making poor little Cecilia do all this work, and were therefore much more helpful. She got a copy and gave it to the captain and everyone was happy!


[Cecilia, Ferry to Kazakhstan just leaving]

Ok, so now we are on the ferry, we have our stuff in the cabins, and even managed to lock the door! So we stand outside on the top deck and watch the comings and goings. Across from us the ferry from Kazakhstan pulls up and lets the few passengers off, takes on new passengers, unloads the cargo and re-loads cargo and leaves! It took 4 hours or so, but it was gone, and we are still here! We got bored, and got out some of our supplies and had a nice little picnic. Watched the sunset over Baku and finally at 22:00 (10pm), we leave. This is pretty good for us as it means that we aren't going to be waiting for the guide who was supposed to meet us at 9:00 the next morning in Turkmenbashi.


[Turkmenbashi, Turkmenistan]

The trip across the Caspian was un-eventful. You could barely tell that the ferry was moving the water was totally flat. No wind or waves, so we slept very well indeed. We got up in the morning and we were still quite a way out, it would be after lunch time by the time we got there. All good things must come to an end and sure enough, eventually we docked and were asked to vacate our cabin, which we did. We were told to wait upstairs after we got our bikes out of the way and packed, which we then did. In a while a lady comes on-board and we were told to go for a medical check! Ok, so we stand in front of the door while the only other passenger, a local Turkmen goes through the check and then it is our turn. I go first, she asks a couple of questions, where are we from, where have I traveled, and I get my temperature checked, that was it. The rest get the same questions, and she just copies my temperature on their charts and that was that.

Next comes the immigration. They took all our passports, and in 30 minutes or so come back and say that Massimo and Matthew can go off the ship, we have to wait for the consul to come from Turkmenbashi, as we had no visas, and it would be issued here, but only the consul could do it. Ok, no problem, we settle in for a nice wait, while we watch our companions disembark.We wait. We wait some more, and some more. After more than an hour and a half, we are told to go to the immigration building, so we finally get to disembark. We ride the 100 meters to the parking lot and park our bikes next to Massimos which is still here! Not a good sign.

Once inside the building, we are told to first pay the "Entry fee", 12 dollars each, ok, no problem. I stand in front of this window, the lady takes the passports and writes out a receipt in triplicate and then duplicates the work for Cacilia. We both sign our names on each of the three copies of our receipt, pay the $24.00 and go back to the immigration officer. As we were doing this our guide, Dima walks up and introduces himself. He has just finished with Matthew, who is now safely ensconced in the auto in the parking lot. He informs us that the reason we had to wait so long was that the consul had car problems and another car had to be sent to town to pick him up!

The immigration officer takes the receipt and our passports and starts filling out some form. When suddenly he stops and starts to talk to Dima about something, Dima turns to us and tells us that the printer is out of ink, and they have to send someone into town to pick up a new cartridge so we have to wait some more! Ok, no problem. In the meanwhile we do manage to get through customs, with Dimas help. He helps the officer fill out the customs form, and basically offers all the standard answers. We don't even have to show the bikes, or our luggage as Dima tells them that it is all affixed to the bike and can't be taken off.

After about 40 minutes he returns, the process can continue. Now we sign the form that they managed to print with the new cartridge. We are then told to go and pay $51 each for the visa, so back to the bank counter, and wait for the lady to write out a receipt in triplicate and of course twice. Not to mention that we ended up paying $106.00 (51x2=102, plus 2x2 handling charge!) By the way, that also explained the $24 entry fee, the fee is $10 and $2 for the bank charge. Dima also informed me that the exchange rate on the black market is around 23,000.00 manat to the dollar. The official rate, and the rate at which everything was being charge (the receipts were for manat converted from US dollars at the official rate) is 5200 manat to the dollar. Too bad we couldn't pay anything in the local currency!! It would have cost virtually nothing.

Ok, we were now past immigration. All in all not too bad. There was virtually no-one else there, as by now all the passengers leaving had been processed, and we were the only ones arriving. Next was the customs papers for the motorcycle. First though, Dima had to straighten out a problem with the visa. On the visa the areas to be visited had to be entered and apparently they had forgotten two places we were to visit, and it took Dima a half hour with the official and a number of phone calls to sort that out!!

Back to the bikes. First to the official which filled out an official route document. This document is used to calculate the road tax, insurance and various other miscellaneous charges (disinfection for example, which wasn't done but stamped as done on the document!, oh, and charged, $1). With this document we visit various officials which put their stamp on it and passed us on to the next post. After it had all the requisite stamps, we then had to pay said document, after a last stop at the insurance booth, where they also fill out an additional document as proof of insurance. We paid this (yes, another receipt filled out in triplicate, by hand, twice!). The cost was $182 for the two of us, so $91 each. The various charges added up to $89, and of course the $2 bank charge.

By the way, gasoline in Turkmenistan is $0.017 a liter, and the road tax is apparently intended to recover some of this subsidized fuel. In the end Massimo calculated that we paid a total of $0.25 a liter for the gas we used while covering the country, not bad. These calculations are based on the black market exchange rate of course!.

We were then waved to the customs where they entered the bike data in a big book, then they sent me with another document to a different lady who put a stamp on it, no idea what that was. Then I was sent me to the police who also entered the motorcycle data in a book, put another stamp on another piece of paper, and with that we were through. Well, almost.

As soon as we got to the door, before we could walk back out the bike, we were told that we had to pay the port authority a port tax! What a relief, this was almost too easy. Anyway, this is also were we caught up with Massimo, he was almost to his bike, when they also called him back and together we went to the port authority office, where they filled out a paper. Sent us to a cashier who gave us a different piece of paper and then incredibly asked if it was ok, if she put both charges (Ceciilas and mine) on a single invoice! With this invoice, I was sent back inside to pay the port tax at the bank window, yes, you guessed it, another receipt in triplicate, but this time only one copy and therefore only one bank charge. The port tax was $10.00 per bike. So the charge was $22.00, by now we just wanted to get out of here, without killing anyone.

The whole ordeal from the time the ship docked to the time we rode out of the port was a little over 6 hours! Poor Matthew had to wait the better part of 4 hours in the car, well, not too bad actually, the car was running with the air-con going the whole time!!

Once outside we followed Dimas car to the hotel in town, which was only a couple of kilometers away. Here we unloaded our stuff into the car and only took what we need upstairs to our room.The hotel Hazar was our accommodation for the night. This turned out to be our first experience of the "intourist" class of hotels. Basically, huge hotels, with a very unpleasant and penetrating odor, lousy rooms, bad service, just generally nasty, but serviceable. The shower worked, paint peeling and rust everywhere, but to everyones surprise there was water, and even hot water. I am not going to get into the cockroaches and other nasties crawling around, but you get the idea. We stowed the bikes around the corner at some company lot.

We then went down the block to a restaurant where we had our first meal in Turkmenistan. Sturgeon grilled on coal fire. Excellent. Dima and the driver indulged in a bottle of vodka, which apparently is the standard drink around here. All the while regaling us with a propaganda speech of how great the country is, and how well everyone is being taken care of by their great leader. He even mentioned that one of the major worries is what will happen when the great leader is no longer around. Sounded like North Korea. Very interesting and bizarre at the same time. But he seemed to believe it and was very earnest about it so we just listenen intently and asked some polite questions


[Cecilia and Matthew in front of the entrance to Kow Ata, the underground lake]


[The entrance to Kow Ata, it is dark down here!!]

The following day we took of in the direction of Ashgabat, but not before changing some money at the market, for $20 I got 470,000 manat! We then went an filled up our gas tanks. The gas station itself was hard to find, if you didn't know where it was, no sign anywhere, just a couple of pumps, and a little house with huge bars over a little window where you could pass money in. The way it works, is that you have to tell the attendant how many liters you want and and pay. The pump only shows liters. We got 30 liters and paid 12,000 manat!


[Turkmenistan, Pilgrims at a mosque]



[Massimo, Dima, and Cecilia going up the stair to the sacred mosque]

Massimo had joined our party at least for a while as he was also headed the same direction. The western part of Turkmenistan is very barren and we felt right at home after being in North Africa so long. In Parou we stopped at a mosque which was the site of a "miracle", where some persecuted woman put her hands on a rock and prayed for deliverance and suddenly a cave opened which gave her shelter and hid her from her followers? Pilgrims from all over Turkmenistan come here and pray. Dima explained the story and showed us the various religious spots. Pretty interesting.


[Our "cabin", north of Nokhur]


[One of the graves with the typical sacred horns of the mountain goat]

We continued to Nokhur, a mountain village just across the border to Iran. The road was really bad, but the country beautiful, and it was nice and cool up in the mountain. Here we stayed in a nice little resort village, which we were all very surprised to see here. We were in the middle of nowhere! The reason for coming up here was the village which is a home to a group of people descended from Alexander The Greats army, who prefer to marry among themselves and keep many of the traditions of the past alive, such as decorating each grave with the horns of a mountain goat which is sacred to them. Men wear traditional fur hats, and speak in a dialect which is very different to the Turkmen language.


[View over Nokhur]


[Cecilia in the middle of Nokhur]

We had a nice stay at the resort hotel. We were served a traditional dinner of dumplings and a way bread which is very hard an keeps forever (practically). Very interesting.The following day we saw the men, the cemetery, and wandered around the village, in which there isn't much to see. In particular it is a bit strange, as there is absolutely nothing touristy about the place, and if anything you feel really out of place. Nevertheless it was an interesting experience.


[A poster of Turkmenbashi at the tourist village!!]

After that we drove through more of this desolate desert landscape, passing a few dust covered villages in the middle of nowhere. We suddenly turned and went a couple of kilometers from the main road, and stopped at a place called Kow Ata, which turned out to be an underground lake with water around 38°C. So we went swimming. A very surreal experience. First you walk down a 170 or so stairs, as soon as you step onto the first staircase the sulfur and heat hits you. At the bottom there is a platform where they have a change room and snack bar! You walk a few more steps down and there is the water. Everything is pretty dark as there are only a few lights down here. You step into the water and it is wonderful. As you swim back the light disappear and you are in complete darkness, very spooky. You keep wondering what could be below you? Other than the small platform where you stepped in there is no where to stand up so you thread water in the dark and listen to the bats flying around you. Excellent.

Eventually you get out and you are totally drained, you can barely make it to the changing room, and there are still those 170 or so steps to the top! Someone has conveniently placed a number of benches on the way up so you can take a rest, and then when you hit the outside you are freezing. Pretty strange considering it is 40°C in the sun!! A great experience.


[The largest mosque in central asia]


[The great leader, Turkmenbashi (leader of the Turkmen)]



[Statue of Turkmenbashi which follows the sun, Independence arch, Ashgabat]


[Building with a huge portrait of Turkmenbashi]

Before going into Ashgabat, we are going to take a break... More later!! Stay tuned...

Baku, Azerbaijan

We made it to Baku. Which for those Geographically challenged among you is the capital of Azerbaijan (approximately. 1.6 million), and a port city on the Caspian sea. We have come overland from Georgia, which we entered from Turkey, a little over a week and a half a go.
Before we even got out of Turkey the rains came. As we were waiting in line to get out of Turkey it started, and didn't let off until we were a good 200km into Azerbaijan.
Getting out of Turkey turned out to be more difficult than getting in. The customs papers caused a stir. As soon as they tried entering our data in their computers the system crashed. So they tried it on all the different computers they had, still the same result. For some reason their program didn't like our data! In the end they just did it by hand, and we were finally out. Then, the fun started.
First, they weren't quite sure what to do with us at the passport control as he had to make sure that we didn't need a visa, luckily, his data and our matched. So then he stamped it and let us go. Takes only 1 line to write, but 45 minutes to live through! In the meanwhile, a lot of irate, Geogians are trying to get their papers in the window, and pushing, poor Cecilia aside. Finally the guy inside, yells at them to stop it. Oh, and I forgot to mention there was only one guy working.
Well, that taken care of then the customs stuff. The guy asked a couple of cursory questions before filling out a piece of paper per bike and putting a stamp on it. Then it was off to another counter, where again, 1 guy was filling out papers. Cecilia (always send a small, poor, little blond, to do this stuff; read on) goes and stands there, just waiting. People are standing 3 deep and 8 wide at this counter, with one hapless official working. To make it more interesting it took him around 8-10 minutes per vehicle!

Anyway after standing there around 45 minutes, finally, the people behind were starting to reach the counter, and those already there, made sure that they did not push past Cecilia. It almost got into a pushing contest. The guys at the counter then, started to fight to see who could help Cecilia fill out the documentation! One person standing in line spoke some German, so it worked out pretty good. She got the paperwork filled out, got to the counter, and when everything was ready, she came and got me to sign my name. As I walked in everyone parted to let me through to the counter, where I duly signed my name to three documents!
Patients, persistence, and more patience, and a short blond girl, all help.
After this we were in Georgia.

Georgia, turns out to be very "rustic", or more properly, rural. As soon as we got into the country, we passed a small village, with cows lying in the middle of the road. The traffic roaring by as if running a slalom race. It was really fascinating to watch, which car would hit which cow. Luckily, everyone survived, that day at least in Georgia. (Forgot to mention the unlucky cow, in a tunnel just before the border in Turkey. She was hit straight on by a bus!).

There were no towns, only small villages all over Georgia, with decaying building everywhere. It was as if you had taken a time machine and gone back maybe 80 years or so. People selling fruits and vegetables on the side of the road, life unfolding in the middle of the street. The interest that the bikes created was amazing. I though that we were slowly immune to this! Everyone, from little children to the men standing around would beckon to us to stop, or yell and wave. We waved back and rolled on. It isn't a lot of fun to stop while it is pouring down, not to mention riding in a strange country, dodging, potholes, and live animals, and the occasional native.

We rode along a river valley from an hour or so before deciding to find a camping spot for the night, and sure enough one came up. Next to the river was a sawmill and a small house, and further on a nice flat area where the river made a curve. I checked it out, and as soon as I stopped, people came out of the sawmill to have a look. As I was 500 meters a way they send two kids out to check on me. I rode back to where the men where standing and made it clear what I wanted, they gestured that I could stay at the house, which I politely declined. They then made it clear that it was no problem camping in the spot I gestured to. So that is exactly what we did. As we were setting up, the whole posse showed up and stood watching us. Cecilia trying to communicate while I set the tent up. It was a lot of fun.

After getting the tent up we all sat down and tried to communicate. Which, surprisingly enough went very well. Everyone had a great time. We were then left alone for a while to enjoy the wonderful panorama of the river and valley in the distance as it slowly getting dark. It had stopped raining and was only drizzling slightly so it was bearable to be outside.

After 30 minutes the whole posse shows up again, this time bearing food and drink.
Home made wine, accompanied by potato wedges, some green "stuff" (ajapsandali), and some soup (khashi, garlic and tripe soup). I declined the wine, but heartedly ate the potatoes and the green stuff. In short other the matron showed up. It turns out that the gentlemen were all her sons, and the kids her grandsons. They were in charge of the sawmill, which is a family business, apparently, as they all worked there.

While the two gentlemen drank the wine we got our Russian dictionary and our Georgia book out and had grand time trying to explain who we were, and what we were doing.

They were very curios and asked a lot of questions, about us, about where we lived, work, travel etc. Really, really, nice, and they drank the whole 2 liter bottle of wine! Teaching us a few words of Georgian along the way. Gaumarjos! (Cheers).

Eventually as it got dark, everyone left, but only after we promised to come for tea in the morning. Which we did, and met the rest of the crew working in the sawmill.
We then continued on, over a pass at around 2000 meters. Everywhere we traveled, the same response from people, yelling, waving and running out into the street. The towns were all very dreary, although the country side is beautiful. Forest, hills, valleys, mountains. No large cities or industry. The roads, are horrible, and barely passable.
Perfect terrain for our GS, although to be hones, we could do with half the weight. Of course, as bad as the roads were, the other drivers, were still passing us right and left, sometimes two abreast, with on coming traffic. But, for old Africa hands like us this is tame (see our entry on Egypt, Morocco, et al at www.fernweh.ch). Now, if that wasn't enough, the rains, set in, in earnest. So now, we have a whole cornucopia of hazards to avoid. Potholes, as in POTHOLES, road waves, rocks, gravel, mud, missing asphalt, cows, dogs, sheep, a river running down the middle of the road. Ah, what fun. But the country is beautiful.

Our next stop was at a tourist attraction at Vardiza, a cave city situated above a river. It was deserted as we got there, other than a car load of aid workers. You know you are off the beaten path when the only other tourist you see are foreign aid workers! It was raining so we set up camp next to the entrance and made dinner rather than climb up to the caves. It had been a long day. The following day we decided to skip the caves, as they wanted to charge us double the posted price, and we declined. So off it was towards Tbilisi. The road went along some beautiful tea growing region, and there were castles and abandoned fortresses everywhere you looked. If I had to pick a nick name for Georgia, it would be "Land of Castles". We did manage to stop and photograph one or two. Did I mention it was raining?

In broad strokes, we rode along the Acharistskali river valley over the pass. Then over to Akhalkalaki and eventually back along the Mtkvari River valley to Mtskheta where we spent another soaking night high in the hills above the river. But not before having to fix a flat tire. After a short rest stop as we pulled away Cecilia's back tire was flat. So we stopped and started getting it off. Of course a couple of gentlemen nearby came over to have a look. Two cars passing also stopped and in the end I had an audience of 8 people watching me change the tire. When they got tired of watching they also lent a hand. The tire had a hole in the carcass and this had punctured the tube, so I decided to mount the new tire we had been carrying around since we left Switzerland. This is a knobby tire which we had planned to use in Africa, but had yet to see action. I had hoped to use the tires we had until Mongolia, as the knobbies don't last all that long. I am hoping for around 7000km. We shall see. One problem while mounting the tire, was that it wouldn't seat properly. We deflated it twice, used soap and water, all to no avail. So, I left it that way, hoping that when it was on the bike and rolling it would seat properly. This is something I had done on a number of times, and had to date always worked with the rear tire, and only once did it not work, but with a front tire. We then continued, lots of green, forests, and fields, and water everywhere to our chosen camping spot.

The following day we continued (in the rain) towards Sighnaghi, which has a great wall fortification and sits up on the hill with a great view of the plains beyond. We had a quick look, a couple of pictures, a round of the town, and then back down to a nice little spot by the river where we camped for the night, still in the rain of course.

By the following day we had had enough of the rain, we had now been soaking wet for the past 4 days, more or less, and it was time to move on. So we headed for the border at Lagodekhi. Which we barely managed due to all the flooding. The road when through kilometers of flooded villages. For long stretches the road was also underwater, sometimes almost half a meter deep. In a couple of places, another centimeter, and we would have to turn around. Cecilia's bike did flood once but made it to the other side, where after checking everything and getting the water out of the air box we continued. In all it was almost 3km of flooded roads that we had managed to pass, with much care, and quite a bit of traffic, creating large waves, which made it even more challenging.

At the border, we got into a protracted discussion with the customs guy. Apparently, all the help Cecilia hat gotten coming in didn't help, the exit point had been wrongly entered in the form. We were in the "wrong" place. Actually, we were in the right place, but the form was wrong. No dice, not even crocodile tears helped! It was pouring down rain, and the guy, even though he professed to wanting to help us, just kept saying that there was nothing he could do. We discussed it for a while longer, until finally admitting defeat and heading out in the rain again. Since we didn't want to go back the same way as we were afraid that we might end up getting stuck somewhere, so we headed north to Kvareli. This decision, at least in the beginning didn't look like a good idea. A few kilometers down the road, we had to go through a town that was completely under water. A river was running through the street, and there wasn't any other way around. A bridge was 3/4 destroyed, but we squeezed through, and luckily it only lasted until we were out of town, where the road turned into the hills. So we breathed a sigh of relief and continued. The ride was great as it wound along the right side of a wide valley, which we then crossed to get to the correct side where we then headed south and the "red bridge" border, which was the one noted on our customs documents.

Nearing Tbilisi I had a flat tire, luckily I ended up stopping just in front of a tire repair place! I got everything off and the guy there fixed all the tubes that I needed fixing (in total, three). The reason for the flat was the same as Cecilia's two days previously, the carcass had a hole in it. I showed it to the guy at the shop, and he cut me a piece of fire hose to use as a patch between the hole and the tube. So I re-mounted the tire and the fixed tube, and we took off again. Four hours later, while going through some small town, I heard a loud bang, and suddenly the bikes back end started dancing around, and I was lucky to keep the bike upright. Sure, enough the tube had blown, and I had another flat tire! So we set to work getting this fixed. Of course everyone within sight was there almost by the time I got the bike stopped.

Everyone was very helpful, and in the end, I ended up almost just directing while they did all the work, and got all dirty in the process. We got the tire on, a new tube and everything mounted, cheered on by everyone who couldn't reach in and give a helping hand. Getting the tire on the bike, gave everyone who had not helped a chance, so they literally lifted the bike so that I could get the tire back on. We also had the same problem with this tire, as I had had with Cecilia's. It wouldn't seat properly, so we just mounted it and continued.

We couldn't find a decent camping, and ended up just driving around, we even toyed with the idea of heading into Tbilisi, but ended up turning around, as we couldn't get motivated enough to look for a hotel, in the dark, in a strange city! As we were debating the best of the bad spots we had noticed a police car stopped, and we both went oooh, no, now what? But the policeman, was just curious, and even spoke some German, so after we explained what we were doing, he suggested going a couple of kilometers up the road where there was a "Turkish camping", whatever that is. Well, that, turned out to be a TIR parking, a place where truckers parked for the night, and it had toilets, a small cafe and lots of watch dogs. We explained to the guy there what we wanted and he said no problem, and showed us a spot at the back of the compound. It turned out to be pretty noisy, but passable, with the plus that we were able to cook in the shower building which no-one used. We were dead, it had been a really long day, with lots of emotional ups and downs. Cecilia nevertheless cooked a wonderful dinner and after a nice warm tea we were almost cheerful as we went to bed.

In the morning, we got up and had a nice breakfast in the shower building and got ready to leave. The camping turned out to be free, as they didn't want any money. Fine with us, and he cheerfully told us to come back on our way home! So we waved goodbye and headed for Azerbaijan. Which we then reached in short order. Red Bridge, was pretty quiet. We drove up, showed our papers, and the other than a momentary scare, due to the date on the Azerbaijani visa, which the Georgian, official assumed to be the validity date, when in actuality it was the date that the visa was issued. As soon as this was cleared up we could leave. Great, only took around 15 minutes.

Now for Azerbaijan. At the control point, we stopped behind the cars and waited. Waited some more. They were letting in a car every 10 minutes or so! Of course, someone in a turbo Mercedes would just drive by and cut in, shutting off traffic until they let him in. As we were sitting there watching the show, a money changer came by and we changed our remaining Georgian Lari to the Azerbaijani Manat, for our 23 lari we got 50,000 manat! He also said to just drive to the front of the gate, and started directing traffic around us so that we could get out and move to the gate. He then proceeded to talk to the military guards at the gate, and presently one came over and asked for our passports. With these in had, he took off and presently came back and and waved us inside.

Great, we were now at customs, and as usual this is where the problems always start. Maybe we should be doing this with a bicycle? To make a long story short, ok, shorter. It took 2.5 hours in total to get out of Georgia and into Azerbaijan. The majority of time, 2 hours was spent at customs in Azerbaijan. Cecilia was shuffled back and forth, and there was a lot of problems with the language. In the end the result was we got into the country with our 15 day visa, no problem. The motorcycles, were only awarded a 3 day transit visa. So the end result is that we have to be out on the 8th of July! The problem is that as a tourist, with your own transportation, customs requires a deposit of 10,000$ per bike, and unfortunately after counting our loose change we just couldn't come up with it. Well, actually it is even more complicated. You can only leave the deposit if you come back out the same way, otherwise you probably won't be allowed to leave, and loose your deposit? As we weren't coming back this way, this was out for us, and we would not have left such a deposit anyway! Leaving the only alternative, a transit visa for three days.

So now we were in Azerbaijan! This makes the 14th country so far this trip. First thing we noticed, it is relative prosperous, and there is much more "color" than in Georgia. This is something, which we later realized is due to the fact that in Georgia, there was nearly no advertisement. As soon as you hit Azerbaijan, there are billboards and signs for all the usual stuff. This had been missing in Georgia, so you only saw the drab buildings, which Azerbaijan also has, but they at least have some "promotional" color! Additionaly the roads are much better, and there is a lot of building and construction going on. So next to the economic basket case which is Georgia, Azerbaijan stands out as a progressive and prosperous country. The people are incredible, again. I am starting to run our of adjectives to describe all the interest and friendliness that all the people show us as we travel around. The Azerbaijanis nearly run us over to talk to us at traffic lights or on the road. Very dangerous, but incredible curious and friendly.

The road towards Baku, goes straight through the center of the country, which is totally flat, flanked by mountain ranges right and left. This is the bread basket of the country, pretty boring, but at least we were making headway. Only when we go into towns, or away from the main roads, are you reminded of the roads in Georgia. If anything in places it is worse here, as they are re-routing some of the main roads while working on them, and you are forced to go through some very adventurous ground. (Have I mentioned lately, that it was still raining!). After a few hours in Azerbaijan, we finally hit some dry weather. The rain stopped, and we could see clear weather in the distance. Great, finally.

We rode as far as we could, and shortly before it got dark, we got lucky and found a hotel. Lucky, while we were actually on the wrong road. This one also heads to Baku, but is slower than the main road, and has less traffic, so why there was a hotel here was not quite clear. Nevertheless, there was one, and I negociated a price of 20manat (new manat = 100,000 old manat). And we moved into a nice large room in an old barrack building, which had been converted to a hotel. Perfectly passable. We spread all our stuff around to try and dry some of it, making a huge mess in the process.

The following day we headed to Baku, now only a 150km away. Baku, turned out to be a busy metropolis, with all the usual amenities, and noise, traffic and confusion. We are starting to be really adverse to going into cities. Something which we always have dreaded. We rode around, trying to make sense of the maps which we had, the most detailed being the city map in the Lonely Planet, Georgia, Armenia & Azerbaijan. A book, you should avoid like the plague. We have been and continue to be big fans of the series, but this one is horrible. The data is worse than useless and just plain badly written and researched.

As we were trying to find a hotel, a cab driver stopped and asked us if he could help. We explained, and in short order he offered to show us to the hotel, which he then did, for no remuneration. Great. The hotel didn't turn out to be what we had wanted to we headed to another one but, the gesture was wonderful. In the end we settled for a relative expensive but well located hotel near the port, which had great parking for the bikes. This is something which I probably have mentioned before, but I am going to do it again. Whenever we stay in a hotel, I am very, very reluctant to stay anywhere, where the bikes have to be parked on the street. Only on a couple of occasions have I done this, and I try to avoid it. This means that the hotels which we stay in have to accommodate this, and those that can are usually a bit dearer than your run of the mill flop house. Which, would suit us fine, but not my bikes.

So that brings us to the end of this opus. We are going to try and get on the ferry tomorrow morning. Today we checked out the ferry port, so we know now where it is, no thanks to the LP which has it wrong. We weren't able to get tickets in advance as there was no-one at the ticket counter there. The information was that they would be back in an hour, and we didn't feel like waiting. So we will head out early in the morning and hope for the best.

As a last word, we certainly would like to come back to Georgia, and spend much, much more time there exploring the country and its people. The same for Azerbaijan, but only when they change their convoluted customs regulations. I can easily imagine spending a month or two just crusing around the country. Oh, well, next time.

Turkmenistan awaits.