Further English

08/08/2008

We have arrived safely in Baku! Yeterday we spent close to eight hours peddling our way down from a lovely spot in the last of Caucasian mountain to come through the dry arid foothills with a permanent head wind to arrive in the evening rush hour. Today we have been waiting for the much proclaimed heat to hit us and we are faced with wind from all directions. Life does not appear to be too bad here, if you have money… The coming days we will up date and restructure our blog, add the pictures and give you some analytical and reflective stories, that will hopefully capture your interest and allow you to understand our experience.

DREAMS

One of the most remarkable experiences during the past weeks has been the frequency and intensity of the dreams that emerge during the night. A quick summary of the people and images that have appeared since we left Istanbul are:

• Gerard, my late father with whom i walked in the Spanish mountains once again and I visited him numerous times in my parents house in Renkum;
• Peter Martin, my brother with whom I argued and came to some inconclusive arrangement. Later we also had something with dogs.
• Ian Gaukroger, a neighbour in Amsterdam who is looking after my plants and we were involved in writing an opera on the parallels between Amsterdam and London, for which we went on a study tour to London as we needed to find useful theme’s although Ian became increasingly doubtful concerning the whole venture.
• Rob Wijsbek and Peter van Dalen were involved in rowing trips with complicated submergions and discussions about dreams ( as they are both psycho therapists this should not be too surprising)
• Trudy van den Hoek, my former partner in  a travelling story;
•  Peer and Skief Houben featured in a story about sailing and some building;
• Stella, my mother appeared in various dreams providing comments
• Most frequent were dreams that involved the development of some intricate story that was full of fantasy and set in a day to day reality that continously had some sort of complicated twist to it.
• Sib’s dreams to follow ….

Food and Drink

Turkish food is a delight for the senses. Along the Black Sea coast we had occassional superb fish, great mezes, often involving some form of aubergine, yoghurt and fresh greens. As we moved in to mountains the meze’s became less varied and seemed to center on fresh tomato’s and cucumber and the fish was at times replaced by lamb and mutton in the form of kebab. There are several meals that we had with lovely fresh trout fried or grilled with a slice of lemon. At times there were plates of freshly cut and fried potato’s. One of the best meals we had was in the moutains of Turkey where we had lunch on a variety of fresh mezes (aubergine, creamy yoghurt, garlic and cucumber), bread with tea and water.

In Georgia the food centered more around dough based food. We tasted a variety of cheesebreads of ranging quality and freshness. A rare find was the ‘katchapourri’ in Kazbegi, that was lovely salty and had more  cheese then bread characteristics. Great stuff after having cyclyed and hiked the whole day! In Telavi the ‘katchapouri’ was more airy and the cheese dominated, a much milder variety. The ‘pouri’ along the ways was consistently good, if you bought it from a baker who prepared it on the spot. By the end we were able to spot differences in taste.

Georgia also has a great liking for ‘kinkali’ or Georgian cooked dumpling that can have different types of filling. We developed persistent gut-problems after our first portion in Borjomi and were unable to muster a positive attitude since then. Although we witnessed people eating a full meal and then to dig into a heaped plate of Kinkali at the end. We settled for plates of fresh soup (chicken with lemon; hot youghurt soup and lamb and mutton stew) often prepared with fresh herbs (dill, parsley, coriander and a deep purple mint).

One of the best Georgian meals was in a butcher shop and restaurant close to the market in Telavi. The cook was a enthusiastic and prepared a deep plate with tasty potato puree, mince filled green pepper, a piece of mutton stewed with fresh greens added in wholesome sauce with fresh coriander sprinkled over the islands of food!  A second unex[ected sutrprise was the caraf  of home made black wine, deep purple! served to us by a host in Lagodekhi, a strong smell and taste of cherries that still emerged after the first glass and took the water melon in it’s stride. Holdong the wine up to the light did not give any light. What a tatste and great on the pallet and stomach!

As we approached the border with Azerbijan, the food became more spicy with garlic and green pepper reapppearing. During the past days we have had our share of lamb, mutton, beef and pork (Georgia) shaslick’s and kebab. Probably due to language problems getting the best of the Azeri foodchain has not always been possible. Some of the pleasant discoveries: a full cream yoghurt with dill and at times a little garlic; a plate of buckwheat with a dot of butter; a mutton stew with fresh greens cooked in as a form of spinach;  watermelon cooled under the village tap, recommended during a cycling trip (we would buy a full melon and give half back, several times the melon was a gift to us, thirsty tourists…) Later we discovered that the best way tio eat the minced meat kebabs was to roll them in a thin pancake with fresh coriander of the sweet onions that formed the very eadible garnish. Simple meze of fresh cheese, some tomato, spring onions and creamy yoghurt with dill and coriander seldom failed to meet our appreciation. The Azeri wine has turned out to be nothing special, but worth drinking. A cook in Seki explained that Azeri vodka is more peppery and Russian vodka is more suave and  smooth. For the time being we stick to the Azeri. Beer (pavi) and vodka are easily available in rural and urban areas, small shops and as part of the tea garden setup. In some places a beer is automatically served with a little snack or smoked fish. The latter, if not too salty, goes very well with a cold beer.

As the Lonely Planet suggests shaslick and kebab  tend to dominate. Gradually we have leartn our way around this meat focus. ‘Discoveries’  include a yoghurt based drink with or without fresh herbs. In the Azeri-kitchen dolma can mean any kind of filled vegatable, so far we have tasted filled peppers, aubergines, tomato’s, vine leaves. A fruity discovery is this red berry that is used to make snack like salads acid and tangy, we have also found it in jams served with tea.  At one lunch stop they served us a lovely home made nectar in combination with cherries. In the snacks that accompany vodka, this berry plays a noteworthy role.

 

more details and headings to come..

smoked fish and a beer

cheese and honey or full fruit compote

A short message

Just, before the internetcafe closes it’s doors, we are currently in Telavi, a provincial town close to the Azeri border. The days since leaving Tiblisi have been something of a roller coaster. We went up into the High Caucasus, a scenic treat! While at the same time I especially was affected by the Caucasian ‘gutbug’. After some time this does affect your body and spirit. The landscape remains awe inspiring with high mountains with snow patches, even some fresh snow appeared!. The last of the high mountain cycling went relatively easy as our bodies obviously adjust to the exercise.

Coming down from the mountains we drifted into the next valley and the trees reappeared and our permanent ‘against the wind’ feature was on show again, uphill or down hill we thought of some special therapy. The cyclists we met coming from Laos (10 months to reach Germany…) suggested that we should check our ‘karma’. The next two roller coasters were a day light robbery while we were swimming by some village louts and the subsequent visit to a police station and trying to get a police report that stated theft and not loss! Completely ineffective and useless, although a very kind lady was brought in to speak German with us. I visited the scene of the crime three times with different delegations, but any description of the two boys who had committed the crime was avoided… That night we slept behind the police station at a place where the cows were brought in so the various owners assembled there to collect their cows, one to several in number. That evening I fed some left over bread to a dog that appeared, stroked his head and scratched his belly. He disappeared into the night as we crept into our tent. The following morning, after we had packed up and said our good byes, the dog reappeared on the street with a whining yelp and delight in his step. We sent him back, but for the next twenty kilometers (!) he followed us closely. Stopping when we did for a sip of water, the police car that acted as our safe guard refused to have him in the back and continuesly urged us on and on. It was heart wrenching and we can only hope that when he finally let up in the woods the passing horse man took pity. I cried because of the hopeless cruelty of such love of man, a dog’s world is harsh. Today we are trying to get an international line to register loss of my banking card and mobile phone, so far that has proved to be elusive. We can only hope that the petty thieves are not into serious fraud yet …
As we have decended down into the river plains that form the productive region of Georgia and Azerbeijan the temperature has risen and a dry heat surrounds us. It will be warm on the way down to Baku, already here the food and the people are beginning to change. Especially the change in food is pleasing as we are rather fed up with the standard Georgian dishes and increasingly question the local hygiene standards. More meat and spices have appeared and there is fruit galore! Peaches are huge and more to come.

The first English page follows a chronological order for the first week or so. This second english page takes a more thematic cut. The basic statistics of daily mileage and up hill figures is continued there…

Cycling into the Kalckar Dagliari and the Lesser Caucasus (Turkish Mountains)

On Friday 11/07, we left Trabzon (Trabezonde) and in order to avoid the busy coastal road we delivered ourselves at the bus station hoping to catch a bus further up the coast closer to our envisaged starting point of  ‘Of’ or Rize. There was a nice pandemonium of trying to fit our bikes into the back of ‘dolmus’. Needless to say it did not work and by the end our bicycles were largely disassembled (..) The next half hour enabled us to test our bike assembly skills and we got brakes working (remember Russell’s New Year Cycling Ride!) A sudden call brought us the essential lift and with the travel fee in the pockets of the driver we were transported to Of.

From there the first climb started gradually. In two days we climbed towards our first mountain pass through the ‘Kalcker Dagliari’ the scenery turned mountainous with wooden houses dominating, green fields and forests. Climbing along a river has several advantages as the sound of running water releaves the spirit. That night half way the climb we found shelter from the threatening rains in a trout restaurant, where the owner lit the stove and allowed us to sleep in his dining room. He chased the children banging the windows away with two well aimed stone throws, presumably there is a story behind this. The next day we were cheered on by the frequent honking of car and truck horns, shouts and waves. At the top we took some pictures and went down hill. The other side of the mountain range was much drier and people lived in what looked like ramshackle dwellings close to the height of 2500 meters. Obviously establishedcommunities as there were already several mosques on the way downSeveral days later we started on our next climb over a pass above 2500, this second pass proved to be a lot easier. The enjoyment of feeling the tightness of your legs muscles that work like pistons remains a sensual delight! At times the sweat pours off your arms so rapidly that the handlebars start soaking and still there is a sense of achievement. Meanwhile spectacular scenery unfolds or unwraps itself in front of your eyes. Every turn a new sight and the realization that what you thought superb lower down has been surpassed by the far sights that make themselves available later…

Climbing the lesser Caucasus took us through green valleys with trees and meadows and astonishing houses built on small plots or higher up in the mountains. Foot and other suspension bridges appearing a odd places, made of cabled wire with planks and logs to form the actual pathway. Living on a tight rope gradually takes on a further meaning. The first climb into the lesser Caucasus brought us through the town of Saveti. Our rough guide named this as the hooker capital of Turkey! It actually is a small working town with the familiar collection of shops selling essential foodstuffs, other displaying odd hard ware that appears important to have in a tough living environment and then. As we moved out of town the garages for trucks and buses appear, a characteristic smell of diesel, engine oil and grey-brown sticky ness, there above the garages are the odd casino, ‘musikklub’ and grotty hotel. In total there are five garages with such amenities, hardly enough to warrant the title of hooker capital, especially when compared to the services offered in Amsterdam.

Later in the same range we climbed up to well over 2000 and a spectacular descent past meadows with cows, free running waters and bee hives in huge numbers. We came tot a trout restaurant and hotel virtually in the middle of nowhere. A free valley in front and behind the road clinmbed up again, we stopped for our lunch, the first round of eating was offered to us by the house. Later the waiters asked to use our cycles and shouting with excited voices they peddled up and down the road and their drive way. We had a great lunch of various mezes and with ghay spirits started on the climb. This pass was cold with winds, clouds and a threatening drizzle, we changed clothes and moved on. After sinking back down under the clouds the scenery was totally different, we had arrived on the high plateau of large rolling green hills with the clouds and their shadows in an ongoing drift of quiet movement. At last I realized why the guide books called this the Outback or Turkish steppe. The vast rolling mountains allowed us to see over 25 km to the last provincial capital of Ardahan. We flowed down the height of the pass and the wind was in our back. As we arrived in the flatter part of the landscape, hardly a tree in sight, bright strips of alpine flowers with the bee hives scattered around and houses had walls of animal dung for fuel or is it as manure for the vast pasture area?

The third pass over 2500 would take us to the border with Georgia. By that time we had obvioulsy moved into an area inhabited by a different ethnic group. Their primary language unfamiliar and our standard greetings in Turkish seldom brought any response. The woman wore colourfull headbands over white cloth around their heads. A lot of houses, shacks, dwellings are integrated into the landscape. Their roof being made of thick soil and grass growing with windows and air vents protuding a little up. It must surely be damp, obvioulsy liveable.  We cycled past some sort of celebration and were immediately invited with gestures to the mixed dancing to a drum and flute, again the language proved at odds to what we had heard in the past days. We hesitated, but pressed on as we were unsure of the way ahead. At the foot of the last pass an anormous empty hotel provided a lunch stop of dried fruit, some bread, yoghurt and water. The celebration was already many miles back. The climb through pasture areas brought us higher than the permanent snow visible on the North slopes of nearby peaks. The sun hot and the herds men curious, but distant. The car that stopped for a chat had Dutch number plates. The way down did not yet lead to the border, the town of Posof waited in the valley below.

Spontaneous Gestures and Friendliness

As we eased out in the valley we were called to eat some white mulberries by some men. The man inviting turned out to live in The Hague and spoke some Dutch, although he could not write in Turkish or Dutch, again the striking friendliness. The afternoon brought the first of cycling in the heat, with a dry wind against us. Drinking water was our main concern and fighting the increasingly stronger winds down the river valley. As the afternoon passed, the clouds became darker and grey, in thedistant we saw lightning strike and we ‘invaded’ a road side place that looked abandoned. As we scurried around we found the remains of a big lunch and there was bag with fresh bread. The rains started and within half an hour the river turned from green-blue to a mud stream and it rose a foot in height. Shortly afterwards people arrived to harvest mulberries and we were spotted. The first words were: Hos Geldiniz/ Welkommen! Just pause to think how the average European would respond to such an invasion…. In their group a women emerged who invited us to use her picknick / campsite. We slept in the ‘hamam’ an area of cushions and carpets. Mekla the owner prepared some freshly caught fish, gossiped about her parents, who sleep in a bed up in the air, tied between the trees.

Arriving in Posof we scouted the main street, the men oogling Sib’s legs and our bikes. The street overflowing with hip European dressed youngsters. We are approached by two men, they are Belgian Turks and the one has had it. He calls it a prison of family obligations and is glad to vent off. He helps us find s a sleeping place by driving his brother’s car to the reliable hotel ( that only half doubles as a brothel) out of town and we trail behind on our bikes. He leaves name and phone number if we need anything. He negotiates the price down by 33% on our behalf. The following day the owner bids us farewell in his pijama, shoting words of encouragement.

In Georgia, we are speeding against the wind and the blazing sun and the river flows alongside us. The side canal has a bridge and some shade, we stop for the essential water intake. First one and then more young boys emerge in their afternoon delight of diving off and swimming against the current. We hesitate and decide to join in, to their delight and surprise they give us hints on where to dive and catch the sides as the current sweeps you forth. We have a great time and take some pictures.

Several days later, In Georgia, we are looking for the church to go with the notice board choose for small lake in stead of the stony river below. As we are sitting on a brick wall with our lunch essentials a man calls from under a tree. Just three teeth and a friendly face full with determination, he comes up and after Russian fails he speakls his five words of German and shows his military tattoo of the Russian army in presumably East Germany (Stendhal…) He invites us to eat something, we think it is close by, after walking for a good 10 minutes we turn into his vine covered drive way. He announces our arrival to his wife and she is instructed to do some cooking, in the mean time we taste his own wine, wash our faces and wonder who the Ameriskanski’ s are. later it appears that a Peace Corps volunteer lives above and he and his mate join us for lunch. As they are doing language training the conversation goes several ways, the wine flows and we are introduced to the Georgian toast and drain your glass empty. Thanks to the Peace Corps we manage to salvage something of the afternoon. We end up dancing to some tape, woman lift their arms high, men just side ways, men kissing men on cheeks, hugs and lots of friendship toasts. Luckily Gori is only 20 kms further.

 

Georgia 

The border Turkey and Georgia clearly shows that we are stepping into a different setting. On the Turkish side tarmac and quiet efficiency.  The Georgian side an assembly of seperate services who all want to see our passport, their different duties or responsibilites remained totally unclear. Friendly conversations abruptly change as we are ushered on to the next building or person, we escape out of the customs and border area along a dirt road and rain gulley that appears to indeed be the main road.

… the rest follows next time!