Woo Hoo! Yee Haw! I am in Georgia! Turkey is a great country, but after three times, I was ready for a change, for sure. Like I was saying when I left you gentle readers on the last Turkey frame, I was completely soaked at the Turkish/Georgian border from a thunderstorm that had some serious sideways velocity. At the Georgian border the customs officer waved me on without a bag check after telling me that my President was also going to be in the country in two days. That came as a surprise to me.

The clouds cleared as quickly as they came, and there I was cycling down this alternating dirt/massively-potholed tarmac. There are some serious infrastructure problems here - it's a lovely country, really, but the roads are unbelievably bad. But the food is truly wonderful. I had an incredible first Georgian meal in Akhaltsikhe, a town that seemed entirely comprised of mud, where I fittingly stayed at the White House Hotel in honor of my President's impending visit. (5/8/05) *

Someone laid roads in Georgia a while ago and they have been left on their own since. When I first crossed the border, I honestly did not know which was the legal side of the road because cars kept coming head on no matter which lane I was in - but then I figured out they were just trying to dodge potholes - an impossible feat. On my second day I hit so many potholes that I am surprised I did not potato chip my rims.

From Akhaltsikhe I tried to go over the mountains to Kutaisi, but villagers in Abatsumani stopped me and got across that (1) the mountains were very high, (2) there was lots of snow, and (3) there were man-eating wolves crawling all over the place at the top just waiting for lone cyclists to foolishly attempt to pass. I could see from the marked elevation figures on the map that I had just crossed higher mountains in Turkey with none of the enumerated problems, so I assumed that they did not know what they were talking about (also people have a tendency to presume that cyclists are incapable of handling any terrain other than flat roads) so I tried to keep going and reassured them I would be fine. Then I hit a second group about 100 meters down the road who stopped me and went through the same thing, with this group soon joined by the wildly-gesticulating first group (gestures involving falling snow, freezing, and wolf attacks). Again, I attempted to stay the course, reassuring them that I was fully up to the task. Then, someone ran ahead and got a police officer, who refused to let me pass any further on the road. Maybe I was being a brat - I'm not sure. Oh well. I turned around and took the valley road to Borjomi, which was actually in much better shape and followed a broad and muddy river the whole way to the sparkling spring water Soviet-era resort. (5/9/05) *

In Borjomi, home of the USSR's famous Borjomi mineral water springs, I met two German cyclists who had come from Turkey and were on their way to Iran, and they kindly invited me to share their hotel room. In the evening we went out for a wander around town and met some Georgians who had built up a quasi living room with a wood burning stove inside the town's crumbling train station. Supposedly the only thing that will really cause offense among the laid back and hospitable Georgians is to refuse a drink when offered. This left us in a situation that found us involuntarily at our fourth shot of vodka each, with another on the way with our protests paid no heed. Excuses such as, "we are sportsmen," "we must wake early," and less believably, "my doctor said that I should not" were of no use, but ultimately a gracious exit was made before any serious vodka repurcussions. (5/9/05) *

The next morning I wandered around town and then had breakfast with Johannes and Andreas while watching the televised fanfare for Bush's visit, including his confused attempt to clap in rythym to a gospel choir. I packed up, hit the road, and less than 2 km out of town the rear derailleur snapped off the frame and was gobbled to pieces in the rear cassette, rendering my bicycle incapable of forward progress. With the help of some Borjomi citizens I threw the bike in a marshrutka headed for Tbilisi where I hoped to find a mechanic with some parts. (5-10-05) *

I arrived in Tbilisi a couple hours after the Bush "Celebrating Freedom and Democracy" party was over, with banners all around town, empty stands in Independence Square, metal detectors being loaded on trucks, and the American press packing up and leaving. It was really interesting seeing all the American journalists with their press passes looped around their necks milling outside of the Marriott on Independence Square talking with each other about the event. Bush's visit had a positive effect for me anyway. The whole time I was in Georgia anytime someone found out that I was an American the response would be an enthusiastic, "Your president is coming here," "Your President is here," or "Your President was here," at various points of my stay. (5-10-05) *

The next morning I went to the capital's velodrome and was steered to a mechanic who put a used derailleur on the bike and did some other fine tuning. I am really surprised at the difficulty of getting proper parts for a bike once you are outside of Western Europe. Even in the capital there is nothing available except for worn parts and resourceful mechanics. Anyway, the used derailleur is getting me by for now. (5-11-05)

Green is my favorite color, so I like this photograph. There are lots of statues around the capital, including the Kartlis Deda, a giant wine-and-sword bearing woman that prominently marks the Tbilisi skyline. This more modest statue was very close to the guesthouse where I stayed in Tbilisi, which was also close to the Mktvari River. (5-11-05)

I really enjoyed my stay in springtime Tbilisi. The city is the perfect size, easily manageable, dotted with old tetraconch cathedrals, bisected by the broad Mtkvari River, inhabited by the beautiful and stylish Georgians, and chock full of sidewalk dining opportunities. (5-11-05)

In order to preserve the continuity of the cycle route I took a marshrutka back to Borjomi where the derailleur destruction occurred so that I could now cycle the route that I had previously been forced to pass by marshrutka. It was pretty smooth sailing to Gori with a strong tail wind at my back, a decrease in elevation and surprisingly decent tarmac. I was only a couple of minutes underway when a rowdy group pulled alongside in a van and asked where I was from - it was strange to see that they all held cans of beer in their hands, including the driver. Maybe the drink-driving laws here are a little different. (5-11-05)