Onwards into Georgia (Saturday 3rd may)

We had one last treat in Sheki before heading up to the border with Georgia. A visit to the massive Sheki Bazaar. In terms of produce and goods on sale, this brought back memories from our first day in Kyrgyzstan, when we went to Osh Bazaar in Bishkek. Sheki bazaar was not as big, but had the same crowded feel with tight lanes between the stalls. The sights, sounds and smells were enough to give you sensory overload. In particular, the animal carcasses and meat hanging are not an especially pleasant sight, but a salutary reminder of where our food comes from, and how it's prepared. A very far cry from the sanitised shelves of your local Sainsbury's. We occasionally use our terrific local butcher (who also used to do a fine side line in bouncy castles), but even that is relatively anodyne compared with the wonderful markets and bazaars of Asia.

Oddly enough, the highlight of the bazaar was just over the road from it. An old Lada had pulled into the space next to our minibus, and very quickly, a lively group had amassed around the boot of the vehicle. In the centre of the throng was an old looking dear flogging off live chickens that were in the boot of the Lada. The purchasers just walked off carrying these poor birds upside down, holding them by their legs. Within 10 minutes she'd shifted about 30, and was gone!

After the excitement of the bazaar we had a 2 hour drive up to the border. Giorgi was wary, as it can occasionally take hours to get across. His fretting was unwarranted. Within 20 minutes we'd cleared the Azerbaijani customs and were embarking on the 10 minute uphill walk towards the Georgian border. How lovely of the sun to make a rare appearance as we did that. We arrived hot and sweaty, but were waived through in under 10 minutes. Take note Heathrow fascists!

All calm on the Georgian front

Just after crossing the border we stopped to exchange currency. No more use for Azerbaijani Manat's. Now we were on Georgian Lari at 3.75 to the pound.

Outgoing Manat

Incoming Lari

It wasn't long before we turned off the main road and headed for one of Georgia's many winery's. The Chubini winery was set in a beautiful location with the hills and mountains providing a superb backdrop. After a brief talk about their wine production we had a terrific lunch sitting on the terrace by their building. Welcome to Georgia! It's billing about generous hospitality was already looking very accurate.

Then it was onto our base for the evening Telavi, via a big church precariously perched on a hill at Gremi. Unfortunately, it was being renovated so the photos are somewhat blighted by scaffolding. Of course Georgia is a very Orthodox Christian country, so it was churches all the way from here.

Our hotel in Telavi looked good from the outside, and I had a very good room with a balcony looking towards the east, and the mountains. Seemingly, I was one of the few lucky ones, as when I saw the rest of the group the following morning, most of them were not happy with the state of their accommodation. The phrase "typically Soviet" was used regularly. To the uninitiated, what that really means is a hotel with a flash exterior and reception, with pretty dire and basic rooms. I think I used the phrase "50 shades of beige" to describe a room we had in Tajikistan; and that apparently would have been accurate here. Being the true team player that I am, I cared not, for I had a schönes zimmer!

Upon arrival in Telavi, my priority was to get a SIM card. Everyone kept saying "get an e-SIM", however my rudimentary Samsung thing was not compatible for such modern gizmo's. Google maps told me there was a place 12 minutes walk away that did mobile phones. It also told me that they shut in 10 minutes! I half ran (well, what passes for running when you are 64!), and half walked, and arrived at 1 minute to 5. The whole route was uphill, so I was bloody hot at steaming by the time arrived. The two young girls in the telephonique boutique had the look of "who, and what, on earth is this lump of sexagenarian muscle" as I rushed through the door. Yes, they did SIM cards. No, they don't close at 5pm, they close at 7pm, were their first answers to my questions. Never fully trust Google Maps! Ten minutes later, significantly cooler and far less puce in the boat race I departed fully SIM'd up. Walking back down the hill to the hotel I decided that Telavi was frankly a bit of a dump.

Shortly before leaving the UK I had established, with the help of a little App that is my bible, that there was a Georgian Premier League game going on in Telavi this very evening. Additionally, the stadium was just a 15 minute walk away. So tonight I was to be Mr Unsociable and not go out to eat with our group. Simply a question of priorities I'm afraid! Our guide Giorgi, who was very keen on sport, had expressed an interest in joining me, but bailed out citing admin work to be done. Nevertheless, fellow Brit Keith fancied a portion of the beautiful game, and was stupid enough to accompany me. We set off down the hill, ably guided by Google Maps. After 15 minutes we got to where the entrance was meant to, except there was no entrance. What did I say earlier about Google Maps??

Looking through the fence next to where the entrance was meant to be

It, the entrance, must be at the opposite end. Do we go back the way we came, around a rugby stadium and some blocks of flats (complete with aggressive dogs)? Or maybe the shorter route along the edge of the river? The answer was obvious, so we headed to the river - there appeared to be a well-trodden path through the grass, so off we went. It got worse, the further we went. Within, 30 metres of the clearing we could see, it became a full on battle through brambles. With 10 metres to go Keith (aged 70) got stuck with brambles around his ankles. It took a couple of minutes for me to unravel him, and we eventually emerged scratched and victorious.

An uneventful meander up to the Stadium!

Now for tickets. Nope! For the second time on my Caucasus trip, we just walked in, gratis. Poor old Keith was still a bit ruffled from our jungle jaunt, so I urgently got him a beer. He improved rapidly. In fact we both did, as we were treated to a very entertaining game that was won 3-1 by the visitors - the wonderfully named Torpedo Kutaisi. That got me thinking about how we could liven up the names of our clubs here in England by adding in missiles and weapons. I came up with a few - Exocet Everton, Machine Gun Manchester United, Ballistic Bolton, Chemical Chelsea, Soyuz Swindon, Proton Portsmouth, Water Pistol Watford, Nuclear Northampton etc.