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Position: 41°31’12″N 41°32’52″E
On a whim we decided to ditch Trabzon’s unseasonably cold, wet weather and head to Georgia. Where the weather was even colder. Given our planning skills we felt more than prepared after a couple of Google clicks. It would be our first visit to a foreign country in five months. What better than a former Soviet satellite state that fought a war with Russia 14 years ago? It makes perfect sense in the current circumstances: to see it before the eastern front opens up. No?
Besides, the Russians have occupied this part of Turkey before, in the late 19th century when they fought the Ottomans. But the Cossacks found the terrain rough going and the population unyielding. Turkey settled its eastern border with the Bolsheviks in 1921 under the Treaty of Kars. Despite some post-Stalinist sabre rattling that pushed Turkey into the arms of NATO, the border has held ever since.
Twenty kilometres before you reach Georgia, trucks pull over in a tunnel and begin the long wait for customs clearance. Better to stage the trucks in a town where food and drink is available than clog up the cramped border area. At the border trucks pull over to the side of the road and patiently wait their turn.
Ditching Clio in a vaguely secure, staffed car park, we grabbed enough clothes for a few days visit. Walking into the curved glass and stone customs building, I immediately skidded across the terrazzo floor. Georgia’s flag sports a big red cross, with smaller Bolnisi crosses in each quadrant. It is as Christian as Turkey’s crescent moon and star is Islamic. The explicit message was, you’re not leaving a country, you’re putting an entire culture behind you.
What are you?
A moment of confusion with the immigration police occurred when I proffered my new American passport. Clean as a whistle, no page was stamped. I had, after all, entered Turkey as an Englishman. The officer said, ‘Where have you been with this passport?’ Rather than get into a lengthy discussion on the merits of dual nationality and the incompetence of the US State Department, I fished out my British passport which she grudgingly stamped. I suspect if Carol hadn’t already charmed her way through I’d probably still be in line, struggling to explain myself with my pocket translator.
Note: We’ll have more on Georgia next week.
