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Friday 3 April 2020

2018 Armenia

18.10.18 London Heathrow 

Unusually, I write on a plane – a shiny new Aeroflot A331.  Not like the previous Aeroflot plane – an old banger to SamarkandBut I'm on my way to another equally suggestive city: Yerevan.  I'm flying to Moscow where I change.  Still no direct flights from London to Armenia.  Appalling.

And so I realise a long-held desire to visit the land of (almost) Ararat.  In fact, I nearly went with the old Aeroflot, when Intourist offered incredibly cheap flights to get hard currencies.  As well as Uzbekistan, I went to Moscow and Leningrad as was.  On offer was Armenia and Georgia, and at the time I regretted not going.  But my two recent trips to Georgia were probably far better, since I wouldn't have seen much with Intourist…

My path to this plane has been long and contested.  Originally, I was going back to Georgia, but for various reasons that didn't happen.  Just as well: on the day I was due to be in Georgia, I developed the first and thus worst toothache of my life – quite hard to eat, and needing constant painkillers.  Would have ruined Georgia.  I eventually got the tooth fixed by a new dentist – who, by chance, was of Armenian origin.  She's good, and solved the pain, so here I am, surrounded by authentic-looking Russians – tractor-driver ladies (large), mafia-type men (sinister) and waif-like stewardesses (pretty).

Getting to Yerevan is fairly epic: four hours to Moscow, two-hour wait, then two to three hours to Yerevan, arriving at 6am.  At the airport I need to get a SIM for my phone, and then a Rideways taxi should take me to Yerevan Ibis.  This is very central, and very cheap – about £40 a night. Now waiting in Sheremetyevo.  Huge place, quite lively for midnight – quite a few flights going out.  Mine leaves at 2am.  Striking that signs are in Russian and Chinese…

19.10.18 Yerevan 

So here I am at last.  In the Ibis hotel, eating a slight expensive (5000 dram) breakfast.  But here.  Managed to sleep for almost all of the three-hour flight down here – hard, but managed.  Sadly, no vision of Ararat, even though I'd chosen my seat for this – still pitch black.  Lots of stars though.  Very long queue at passport control, but they let me through in 20 minutes.  Case arrived, and then I bought a SIM – 2800 dram for 5 Gbytes – pretty cheap…

In retrospect, using Moscow as a hub for central Asia is obvious – can't think why I didn't use it before.  Perhaps thinking back to the old Aeroflot planes… For example, they have flights to Almaty, Astana, Ulaanbaatar… lots of appealing places.  Must check prices…

Driving in from the airport, the Armenian script looked wonderfully exotic – must learn the capital letters, which stump me too often.  Lots of oriental-looking people here.  Can't tell if they are central Asian, Koreans, Chinese...haven't heard speech yet.  Sounds Japanese...makes sense, Armenia relatively close to Japan.  Big party of them here.

After I had shaved, I felt vaguely human, and went out wandering in the glorious autumn sunshine.  It was cold – 5°C – when I got off the plane, but the sun was moving the temperature up.  First problem: the SIM I bought wouldn't work with my venerable mobile phone.

Down to Republic Square.  Really impressive; spacious with towering buildings forming it.  The use of stone here is really good.  Lots of minivans offering trips to Lake Sevan et al. - but no prices.  Time to haggle… Then up Northern Avenue.  Swanky and culminating in the Armenian Opera Theatre, and Freedom Square.  Along the way I went in to the main mobile company – U.com.  It took two of them 20 minutes, but they eventually got my SIM working.

Now in the restaurant Lavash, on Tumanian Street.  Eaten fried pork and potatoes: not bad – and very cheap (about £4).  Opposite me in the Tumanian Sharwa – might try it another day.  Back to the hotel for a quick kip, then out again, down to the river valley.  And there it is, looming majestically in the afternoon haze – Mount Ararat.  Great view from the church of St. Sargis – amazing stones that look almost edible in their variations of honey hue.  Very characteristic Armenian style – shallow carving on the facade, tall narrow windows, tiny bell towers on the corners.    Afterwards I took one of Yerevan's long, straight boulevards – Mashtots Paghota – aligned with Ararat.

Passed colourful market, and was able to change euros at a good rate.  Then on for over a kilometre, past the opera house, and Khachaturian's statue, up beyond the ring road, almost to the Matenadaran, where I'll go tomorrow.  Then right, back to Abovian Paghats.  The contrast of Yerevan with Tbilisi is interesting.  Yerevan is more sophisticated, but Tbilisi is more atmospheric.  I think it goes back to the fact that Yerevan is a planned city, but Tbilisi is just layer upon layer. (Yerevan may be older, but little remains of that except Erebuni.)   People seem better-off here, strolling along Northern Avenue, just as in Italy or Spain.  Lots of top-end shops.  Yerevan seems to have more money than Tbilisi, but I think Georgia's economy is doing better than Armenia's, probably because it is not isolated by war as Armenia is.

I'm really lucky (of course, in many ways) because Yerevan is celebrating its 2800th anniversary on Sunday.  Lots of banners around.  Be interesting to see what they do.  Now out at supper.  The good news: it's so mild I'm eating outside.  The bad news: people smoke a lot, and in the restaurants.  In Terian Street, in a small restaurant that looks quite original.  Very popular, a good sign.  Sadly, food was slow in coming and unbalanced – ah well.  Tun Lahika – will give it a miss in future.  But hard to believe I only arrived early this morning.  Up to the top of the Cascades...reminds me of the weird Hoxha building in Tirana.  Still hazy…

20.10.18 Yerevan 

I sit at the feet of Mashtots, looking out at Ararat.  Nice building – the Armenians are rather good at monuments.  Fine manuscripts inside, including Middle Georgian manuscripts.  Sunny, but hazy – pity about Ararat, but good for walking.  To give my knee a rest, in to The Green Bean for Armenian coffee.  Good stuff, and cheap at 500 dram. To the Museum of Russian Art.  Amazing exhibition on Vrubel's "Demon and angel battling for Tamar's soul" – Lermontov's Georgian poem, of course.  Amazing because of the restoration carried out on the torn, stolen art work.  "Demon" read in the background – lovely atmosphere.  

Into the crazy Cafesian Gallery.  Sitting in front of the huge Battle of Vardanank by Grigor Khanjian.  Central battle scene rather effective.  Not wild about all the lifts here… Now in front of Sasuntsi Davit, by Artashes Hovsepian. Beautiful stone relief – something Armenians excel at.  Interesting exhibition of Shadi Ghadinian – Iranian female photographer.  Striking images under difficult conditions.

Back to Tumanian Street – lots of restaurants here; chose Lebanese for kebab.  To the History Museum.  Incredible wealth for such old stuff – hearthstones, huge vessels – all four to five thousand years old.  Armenia clearly a hearth of humanity.  Stunning funereal cart with four huge wheels… To the Urartu section.  Incredible to see the inscription of Erebun – 782 BCE.  Out of the museum into nearby Jazzve cafe for surch… I was exhausted after only one floor of the place – so much quality stuff to see.

Out early for dinner, as I expected things to be busy...and they are, even at this time.  To Lavash, where I barely got a table upstairs.  After the museum, to Vernissage.  Huge – much bigger than Temple Street in Hong Kong.  Lots of interesting stuff – and lots of tat, like £10 duduks, of which there are hundreds… T-shirts, jewels, carpets, chess sets, silverware, rings, scarfs, books (in Russian and in Armenian), kitchenware etc.  And not a price in sight – haggling is order of the day here. I took a break from this by going to the city's cathedral.  Which looks like a prison – big and blocky, with little that is graceful or spiritual.  Such a contrast to the Holy Trinity church in Tbilisi, also new, so it shows it can be done.  Then back to the market.  Found a stall selling music, and haggled for two books for learning the duduk from 13,000 dram to 10,000 dram, so not bad.

Then, from the market, took a taxi back to the hotel – my knee is still complaining about the Cascades…  Rather angry driver listening to Russian pop music, got me back for 1000 dram – about £1.30, so pretty cheap.  Will probably take them again.

Just had a good soup with yoghurt and buckwheat.  Took a glass of Armenian wine - £2.  Waiting for beef now.  Which turned out to be beef and beans cooked inside a pumpkin – absolutely wonderful.  Red wine not bad, not quite as punchy as Georgian wine.

21.10.18 Yerevan 

An unusual morning.  Now in Artbridge Bookstore Cafe – seems the Yerevan equivalent of Prospero's Bookshop in TbilisiI had originally planned to go to the National Gallery this morning.  But the weather today is sunny, while tomorrow will be cloudy, so I decided to go to Khov Virap in the hope of seeing Ararat.  The question then: how to get there, and how to pay.  There were to taxis outside Ibis hotel.  I spoke to the driver of one, a typical young Armenian.  We agreed after haggling on 10,000 dram – about £7.  I got in the back.  Seat belts stuck behind the seats.  This was a big problem, because he drove like a maniac.  After we established Russian as our best mode of communication, I asked him to stop, and sat in the front seat, which had a seat belt.  He didn't wear his.  Then we stopped for gas – not petrol, but LPG (I assume).  This is held in a large tank in the boot.  The man filling it up told me to stand back – "опасно".  Great.  Then we hared off to the site.

The journey interesting, if hardly attractive.  Dry, dusty, sere landscape – like Tbilisi/Turkey, only poorer.  Lots of old Soviet infrastructure, struggling to work.  Everywhere those strange pipes – the same I saw in Stepantsminda – gas supplies.  Thanks to his speeding – at about 120 km/hour – we soon reached our destination.  Still rather hazy, alas, although at least I was closer to Ararat.  Must be stunning on a clear day.  Didn't bother going to the church, which is no match to many others.  Saw a sheep with a red ribbon – not a good sign, I fear – I think it means a sacrifice.  Then back to Yerevan.  But given we were in the right part of the city, I decided to go to Erebun.  After all, today is being celebrated as the 2800th anniversary of its founding.  In fact, I saw the inscription in cuneiform yesterday.  Zipped around museum (free today), then climbed hundreds of steps (aaargh) to the top.

Very impressive – huge, well-preserved walls.  Lots of rooms visible.  Reminded me of Knossos, but even better preserved.  Roughly contemporary, too, I think. In fact the remains of the walls so high and steep I found it impossible to get down, except at the main entrance.  Lovely views of the city, too, although not exactly beautiful.  Amazing the history of this place – prehistoric and Urartan. I was there about 40 minutes, so taxi driver not very pleased.  I'd agreed 14,000 dram, but ended up giving 15,000 dram to keep him happy.  He wasn't.

To the National Gallery, which confusingly is in the same building as the National Museum.  As usual, you begin at the top, which means a ride in a very ricketty Soviet lift.  Not much special here, except Hakob Hovnatanian (1806-1881).  Born and worked in Tbilisi.  Lots of fine portraits, if a little repetitive.  A room full of Hovhannes Aivazovsky (1817-1900), including "The Darial gorge"...wonder if he went there.  Probably. Also "Noah descending from Ararat" by the same artist. Majestic painting of Ararat by Gevorg Bashinjaghian (1857-1925).  Simple, but effective.  Also of Kazbeg and Daryal gorge. Nice view of Ararat by Yegishe Tadevosian (1870-1936) viewed from Echmiadzin. "Old Tiflis" by Panos Terlemezian (1865-1941).

After the gallery I went to the Republic Square, saw the marching bands.  Sat in the garden by Italy Street, had a coffee. And then I had a problem: most of the square was closed off by the police – I assume some bigwig was coming (the mayor?).  Luckily, I saw an Armenian man arguing with the police, who finally let him through – so I and several others joined the group to cut across the blockade.  Later, I sat nearby Vernissage, reading emails.  

Heavy beats filled the air – Yerevan2018 celebrations in full swing.  I decided to eat early to avoid the crowds gathering for the celebration that night.  In Mamoor, which has good reviews, very near.  Nice pumpkin soup..slight spoiled by people smoking here, which is common… One striking thing about the National Gallery: every room had at least one attendant, but there were only four of us looking at the pix…

22.10.18 Yerevan 

Back in the Lebanese for lunch – it's slightly damp outside, and I didn't want to wander.  Since most museums are closed today – à la France – out to Geghard monastery.  First, find a taxi and haggle.  Went with an old geezer for 10,000 dram.  No seat belts in back, so I moved to the front again.  Old, gas-powered car.  Interesting bloke.  Born in Tbilisi, Russian teacher by profession (we spoke in Russian), but now driving taxis to support his daughter and grandson, who bore his name – Yura.  Life obviously hard, since was about my age.

Lovely drive to Geghard monastery – climbing, looked like Georgia (no surprise).  No traffic about, although a few coaches at the site – Russians mostly, plus a group of French.  Impressive church, gleaming and unusual – inside, a cave.  On the outside of the main church, graffiti from the 1840s – reminds me of Egypt…

Then back via Garni.  Temple fab, but rebuilt.  Interesting it exists here, of course.  But for main thing was the fantastic views of Garni valley.  I only heard about this place a few months ago, when I watched a YouTube video of this crazy Russian bloke recording his drive to Garni through Georgia – which is how I came across it.

Drive back into Yerevan a bit hair raising – driver moved across junction as cars from right stormed away – narrowly avoided impact.  But otherwise a great trip.  Gave him 10,000 dram plus 2,000 for his grandson…  Forgot to mention: Yura has travelled everywhere in ex-Soviet Union – Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Russia.  Big advantage of a common market.

Sitting in Khachaturian's house.  Not much to see – lots of concert programmes, a few scores.  Best bit is the part he lived in – had that old person's smell.  Beautiful portrait of him conducting in London (Abbey Road Studios?). But overall impression is one of sadness…

Back in the Green Bean – has a nice vibe, and I need coffee and pud.  Everyone's smoking – no wonder: I saw packets cost just £1 for 20 cigarettes.  Then to Vernissage again.  On to see poor Griboyedov's statue.  Never heard of him six months ago, but now I feel I've known him for ages.  Poor chap.  Nearby, huge concrete monstrosity – reminded me of Albania… On the metro.  Had to see what it was like.  Small, undistinguished, not deep like Tbilisi.  Back to Republic Square, then walked down Italy Street across to supermarket.  Need to buy some Ararat cognac and good wines.  Got them, then grabbed a taxi for 1000 dram.

For dinner, thought to try Tumanyan Shaurma.  Disappointing – food not very appetising.  Hope it doesn't do anything serious to my guts.

23.10.18 Yerevan 

Sitting at the Marriott in Republic Square.  Lovely warm autumn morning.  Alas, still hazy, so the view of Ararat still tantalisingly partial. Took a taxi to the Genocide Memorial.  Very fine – that Armenian monumentality again.  The huge slabs of rock serving the architects well.  No one else there, as it should be for the best appreciation.  The flickering flame down in the well, the flowers - carnations – laid around its border.  Very simple, very effective.

It is very strange.  I have been longing to come to Armenia for 40 years – I regretted not taking the Intourist Armenia and Georgia package.  But in the end, better thus.  Then, they were poor and oppressed.  Now, both are free and happy places.  I feel at home in both.  Almost more here, because the language is easier.  I think I know why Yerevan feels so different from Tbilisi: it is a very compact, homogeneous city.  Tbilisi is spread out, with different parts that don't hang together.  That said, Tbilisi's old quarter is not matched by anything here in Yerevan.  And Georgia's scenery is more majestic.  However, Yerevan's museums are much better…

Took taxi back to Republic Square for coffee in Marriott café – what a shrewd move to buy this building – location, location, location.  Lovely sunshine.  Then walked to Museum of Modern Art.  Hard to find – hidden on a side street in nondescript building.  Quite interesting.  Overall tone: rather sad and depressing… Then to Artbridge Bookstore Café.  Empty.  To hotel for a quick kip – tonight is going to be long and tiring.  Managed to book window seats.

Where to finish?  Went to the museum dedicated to Spendiarian – not a name I'd come across before.  No one else there.  Now sitting in Republic Square, the only place to end the day.  Dark storm clouds looming to the south, a few drops of rain.

After last night's disappointing food, only one place possible: Lavash, where I reserved a table to make sure.  Will eat a fair amount to keep going during the night since Aeroflot food is not great… Eating aveluk soup and ghapama erzurum – which I had before.  So good, I want it again...plus wine (I will have two glasses tonight...)

More destinations:

Tuesday 18 October 2022

2022 Stavanger

Over the North Sea 14.10.22

The good news: I'm flying to Norway.  The bad news: judging by the safety leaflet, it might be in the B737 MAX – the one that is so unstable if fell out of the sky twice. [Actually, Flightradar24 tells me later that it was the older, safer B737-800.]

On the way to Stavanger.  Why?  It seems very small – not even Norway's second city – shops seem to close almost as soon as they open, and the weather forecast for the next four days is rain, rain, heavy rain, rain, thunderstorms, and then showers when we leave.  But in all those respects, it's interesting.

Truth to tell, I was going to fly to Georgia – I've not been for three years thanks to Covid.  But as I was just about to book hotels and buy flights, that nice Mr Putin began his "partial" mobilisation, and tens of thousands of young Russians fled the country – strangely unwilling to get killed to salve Putin's pride.  In particular, flights to Tbilisi went up from $300 to $600, and hotels were sold out as Russians piled in.  So Georgia not the happiest of places – and probably a little too close to Russia in the circumstances [turbulence…].  
Admittedly, Norway also has a border with Russia, but a long way from Stavanger.  Also, I don't think Putin would attack NATO country.  Little, helpless Georgia (population three million, two great chunks already missing thanks to Russia) on the other hand…

So, Stavanger is a kind of anti-Georgia.  Very expensive, very clean, very orderly.  Interesting for those reasons, although not much else to do.  It would have been nice to climb to the Preikestolen – the main image I have of Stavanger – but the torrential rain that is threatened is not really ideal for this.  Even fjord cruises are likely to be compromised somewhat.  But hej – at least we have the Oil Museum… 
In fact, since everything else in terms of museums and art galleries seems closed on Monday, the Oil Museum may be our only hope of getting out of the rain…

Flying Norwegian for the first time – I've often seen their planes.  Efficient Web site, expensive (around 500 euros for two), pity about the Boeings those chose [they do have some B737 MAX, and are buying more, it seems…].  
Turns out that UK school half-term is upon us: result – Gatwick South Terminal awash with young families.  Not a problem, but made everything feel rather crowded, which I had not expected.  

Sitting in Fisketorget – pretty expensive, but then everything is here.  Fab view of the harbour, a big powered catamaran berthed nearby – seems the only one offering tours of the fjords.  

An easy trip from the airport on the bus to hour hotel, Darby's Inn, greeted by Mr Darby, I think.  A fine Victorian-era building.  Out into the rain, through the backstreets with their characteristic white houses, all similar, but all different.  The electric cars swish by, the only sound the wheels cutting through the rainy road.  The house number have a very pleasing typeface.

Down to the harbour, where a huge tug (?) looms.  Around the harbour, along to the old town.  Everything so far has been very restrained – reminds me of the Outer Hebrides, Cornwall, Iceland.  The gently sloping lanes remind me of the similar but completely different hill streets of Tbilisi.  The old part of the town an explosion of colour after the uniform white.  Rather gaudy and excessive – looks like something created with a digital painting program.  A bit more lively.  Reminds me again of Tbilisi, but also of Bucharest.  We take coffee in the Bacchus café – decent coffee, tea and apple cake.  This reminds me of a restaurant I visited in Copenhagen – relaxed, nice atmosphere.  Then through the streets full of female navy ratings (Stavanger is a NATO centre – our hotel has people from it staying) out on the town.  Then to here, lucky to find a table, especially by the window overlooking the harbour and sea.

Back in Darby's.  Harbour very attractive by night, especially after rain (lots of it), with the lights reflected on the wet pavement.  
As well as the electric cars – and the absence of places to park, for example in hotels – there are electric scooters everywhere – being used, or left all over the shop.

Still raining…

Stavanger 15.10.22

A famously good breakfast at Darby's in the splendid dining room upstairs.  A mirrored ceiling, lots of chinoiserie.  Turns out Mr Darby was in the oil industry – Singapore, Houston, London, Paris, Stavanger.  Awkward.  His Norwegian wife extolled the virtues of the Oil Museum, understandably, perhaps.

To the city, absolutely devoid of people – looked like a film set for some post-apocalyptic movie.  Around the old part, bought some lunch – having failed to do in the nearby Extra supermarket – seems Norwegians don't eat sandwiches…

Bought tickets for the only cruise to the fjords at this time of year – 650 Kr, reasonably, unlike the £100 Booking.com site was quoting for exactly the same trip.  Reminder to self: don't use Booking.com for offers… 
Now on the super-modern boat (catamaran).  Fair number of people, but far fewer than the 297 the boat can hold.  Rather fresh this morning, so sitting inside, not on the open top.  Views would be better there, but I think we'd freeze.  Strangely, not raining, even a hint of sun.  But rain promised later, and for all Sunday.

The endless parade of hills and mountains woven together, reminds me – perversely – of the train ride from Samarkand to Tashkent.  That sense of consonance among opposites. Almost impossible to stay outside – wind so strong, you'd lose a camera so easily.  The neat houses and cabins perched on patches of grass remind me this time of the buildings high in the Alps as we drove from Italy to France.  So many clearly expensive places owned by so many rich people, about which most of us know nothing…  The walls of the fjord vertical, with lines that make them look like perpendicular style architecture – truly natural cathedrals.

Half way into the fjord, to the waterfall, a majestic force of nature.  In close, with water spraying everywhere (not me, though – I stayed inside).  The boat turns, stops at Preikestolen.  I realise I have misjudged the height of these walls: on the Preikestolen itself I can just make out tiny, tiny dots – people.  The top is gobsmackingly high.  Then we stop at the Vagabond's Cave – basically a huge cleft in the cliff.  Beautiful rock formations, sculptural.

The bridge at the entrance to Lysefjord reminds me of the multiple bridges and viaducts on the road leading to the Mont Blanc tunnel – an amazing drive.  There, the mood was refulgent summer; here, mellow autumn.  Sailing back the way we came, but with a different feeling.  You depart full of expectations, energy.  You return full of experience, tired but content.  The rain held off for this, and we are grateful.

Another echo, but a distant one: when I went down other fjords, as far from here as possible, in New Zealand.  Slight smaller and tamer, as I recall, but beautiful nonetheless.

Another contrast.  Norway is confirmed for me as an efficient, functioning society, as I saw in Oslo all those years ago.  Its huge North Sea oil fund means that it is well placed for whatever the future holds.  The UK, of course, is the complete contrast to that, especially now.  A government so dysfunctional that is already a global byword; chaos politically, financially, economically, ecologically.  
I love it.  "May you live in interesting times" may be meant as a curse, but for me is a blessing.  I love wondering what new disaster will unfold each day, hanging on Twitter so as to be among the first to know.  I love it – the buzz, the madness, the sense of living on the edge.  It's so exciting.  Stavanger, by contrast, opens at 10am and closes at 4pm.  Restaurants shut early, museums are closed on Mondays.  It's efficient, smooth – and rather dull.  Give me bonkers mayhem every time.

After the boat trip, a walk around the town, which is finally a little lively.  Then along to the bus station, which is also next to the train station.  The latter small, as might be expected.  We're here to buy buy tickets for tomorrow's visit to a slightly distant museum.  I buy a 24-hour ticket, not realising it is for the next 24 hours.  Ah, well, at least we can take the bus back.  Both stations sit next to the Byparken, Stavanger's main city park.  Seagulls and swans dominate its lake, which is striking pastoral given the presence of archetypal urban features such as bus and train stations.  Back to the room.  It starts raining heavily, but at least we had no rain during the fjord trip.

Out for supper to the nearby Matsmagasinet.  No room in the restaurant – it's Saturday evening after all – so we sit in the bar, and choose from its small but inventive menu.  Tables full of young women laughing raucously and explosively set the tone.  Just one man there, sitting on his own, absolutely immobile for minutes on end.  We eat, pay and leave to avoid any acts of mass murder he may be about to commit…

A day that went far better than feared, with most of it rainless.  Tomorrow still threatens to be thoroughly wet.  We shall see – the weather system here seems to be even more unstable and less predictable than London's…

16.10.22

In the café of the Archaeological Museum.  Bright and modern, very few people.  Exhibits well displayed, with explanations in Norwegian and English.  After a while, Norwegian becomes vaguely comprehensible, close enough to German.

Raining mostly today, but odd spells of dry weather – enough for us to take the bus to the Kunstmuseum by the park.  Typical small city art gallery: modern building, very clean and tidy, with a couple of temporary exhibitions, plus a few older Norwegian paintings – some very good landscapes.  
Park largely empty, as everywhere.  Then on the bus to the Archaeological Museum.  Again, the space very modern, the exhibits well laid out.  Lots of gold and other jewellery, posts, a huge cauldron, broken swords, a section meditating on the universality of Yggdrasil, the tree of life.

But for me, the highlight without doubt was the pair of lurs – ancient Germanic horns.  These were found in a bog, and were intact.  Not only were there two of them, they were a matching pair: tuned to the same note, and each forming a serpentine coil with different chiralities.  Amazing sophistication, and also shows how important music was to ancient tribes.

After lunch in the museum, it was still early, so we walked along to the Stavanger Museum.  Full of kids, and kid-suitable exhibits, with one notable and striking exception.  A propos of nothing, one room contained an installation called "Cranium Music".  It consisted of a dozen or so suspended animal skulls onto which were projected the faces of singers such that the animal jaws coincided with the singers' mouths.  In the background, the music that the singers – and thus the skulls – were performing.  Pretty disconcerting, and hardly consonant with the rest of the museum.

There was still a little while before every museum in the city shut, so we decided to fit in one more – the Maritime Museum down by the harbour.  A nice old building, ceilings showing lovely beams, perilously low for me.  An eclectic mix of exhibitions, plus recreations of merchants' rooms.  Nothing spectacular, but interesting enough.

Just as museums close at 4pm, so are many restaurants shut on Sunday.  Even supermarkets are closed.  We managed to find one, Bunnpris, which a few bits and pieces we will eat tonight, since the forecasts are awful – not the weather for wanderings.

17.10.22

As the saying has it: "as quiet as Stavanger on a Monday" – well, almost.  All the museums are shut, bar one – the Oil Museum.  Pretty much the last thing I'd want to visit, but needs must when the devil drives.  And there is a certain timeliness in the topic, when a European war is being fought over, and waged with, oil.  The museum itself is rather splendid, architecturally speaking.  It looks as if made out of leftover oil pipes and rigs.  As usual, very clean and neat inside, with jolly exhibits about the origin of oil, the history of drilling.  One thing I already knew but still find amazing is that the modern oil industry is so young: it more or less began in Azerbaijan at the end of the nineteenth century, when people noticed that his black stuff bubbling out of the ground burnt rather well.  (Reminds me, I really want to go to Baku – I do wish Armenia and Azerbaijan would sort out a peace deal…). 

The exhibits have a certain abstract charm: the rigs looked like enormous metal artworks.  My favourite bit was the, er, bits – various kinds displayed in a row.  A photo showed them arranged like exotic sea animals, or viruses.  Also interesting was a control room of some kind, an ecstasy of analogue dials and switches.  But overall, like all museums in Stavanger, rather small – not worth the £25 it cost us to get in…  
Then out around the barely stirring town, people going quietly about their quiet business, mostly in quiet electric vehicles, which seems appropriate as well as laudable.

Stavanger airport.  Like the museums here, modern, clean, efficient – and quite small.  
Just three days ago, this city was completely unknown to me.  Now, I've seen the main sights and walked its streets in myriad ways.  Certainly, I don't claim to know the place, but I have an mental image and a plan of it.

More destinations:

Monday 25 October 2021

2021 Gibraltar

19.10.21

On the 9th floor of the Eliott 
Hotel, looking out across the Bay of Gibraltar from the near-empty hotel restaurant.  Spain in the hazy distance, tankers moored or moving.  Cloudy but pleasantly warm in this Mediterranean outpost of the UK.  The tell-tale sign that all is not as it should be: they drive on the right here…

Gibraltar seemed the perfect post-Brexit/Covid trip.  Short – just three nights here – but enough time to see more or less everything.  Safe – Gibraltar has one of the lowest incidences of Covid.  And weird: a little chunk of limestone that will be forever England (well, not if the Spaniards have anything to do with it). An alienated piece of the EU, just a few kilometres from Africa…

The flight was good but horribly early: 7.10am take-off meant getting up at 3am.  At least it was Terminal 5, Heathrow, one of my favourites.  Swooping from the east of the Rock, its gaunt vertical face, around to Gibraltar Bay, where the improbable runway sticks out into the sea.  No room for error.

Then the inevitable checks.  Mostly done before leaving, online.  Very efficient: after you have submitted your Passenger Location Form, you are taken straight to the test booking site.  On the ground, less impressive.  First, you queue at passport control; then you queue for your lateral flow test; then you find there are no taxis left to take you into town.  So you walk.  It's not far, but there's a unique obstacle holding up vehicles and people.  Planes are taking off, and the runway cuts across the road.  So the road is closed while the planes take off – rather close.

Finally, the barrier lifts, and off we go.  Strange to see UK road signs, but cars on the right.  Also many signs in Spanish, not unreasonably.  We walk through the Landport Tunnel, once the only land route in.  then along Main Street.  Which turns out to be a perfect distillation of English seaside towns like Blackpool or Bournemouth.  Small, tacky, full of horrible "souvenirs" – and people who look as if they would buy them.  Mostly old.

In Grand Casemates Square – the Piazza San Marco of Gibraltar.  Here via the dock area – not just ugly, but oppressively chaotic – no plan, no style.  Huge blocks of buildings closing off the way – no road through.  Here vaguely attractive, open at least.  Moorish Castle just visible, Main Street ahead of us.  Huge building to the right, looks like the abandoned concrete hulks of Chișinău.  This place is weird.

20.10.21

Out to the cable car base.  Following Main Street, I was surprised to see its character change once it became for cars – vastly better.  Where the pedestrianised part is twee and naff, the part to the south has some good buildings.  Passing by St. Jago's Arch, things fall apart – hard to find the sense of roads, with the paucity of street names hardly a help.  But we finally made it to the cable car to find zero queue and just a couple of people waiting inside the cabin.  £30 each for the full works, but Moody's Second Law of Tourism applies…

The ride up quick and smooth, though I am not totally convinced by this technology.  The upper cable station nothing special, aside from its location, which is stunning.  The views from the two platforms just fantastic, with the harbour and runway laid out clearly, Spain in the distance, and Morocco looming out of the haze.

Three apes nearby, picking over carrots, apples and watermelon.  Magnificent beasts, with a golden-brown fur.  Pretty indifferent to humans, more interested in food or finding fleas on each other.  The biggest (alpha?) males were superbly disdainful as we walked past them.  A Spanish family foolishly had a plastic bag, and the apes were keen to inspect it.  The bloke shooed them away, but was unwise to bring it.

Along to the Skywalk – pretty dull, but some nice views south.  The eastern side of the Rock is pretty impressively precipitous.  Further south to St. Michael's Cave.  Better than I expected – really majestic forms, rather spoilt by the lighting's garish effects.  A dozen minibuses outside disgorging people.  We moved off down to the Apes' Den – where there were sadly no apes.  But we had seen plenty elsewhere.

We decide to descend to the town, rather than ascend to take the cable car.  A long way, but shielded from the sun by the Rock, with great views.  I saw a couple of planes swinging round from the south to land – tiny dots moving over the sea and Spanish mainland.  The tankers and container ships playing to and fro.  The filthy pollution they create is evident.  Yesterday, we saw an obscenely large P&O cruise ship pull out – a ridiculous floating hotel, with hotel and cold running Covid: I wouldn't go one even if you paid me.

Finally down to the town, and to The Angry Friar, opposite The Convent – the Governor's Residence.  Just as we were about to order, the power went off – something that happens here apparently.  After salad and sandwiches, back here to the hotel to rest.

In Jury's, nice atmosphere. In the afternoon, to the botanic gardens by the cable car station.  Lots of interesting plants and trees, but a strange feeling of chaos, of things not hanging together, which seems to be the dominant theme here.  Then to the harbour – the new one – and the Harbour View restaurant.  Next to flash catamaran.  Gibraltar should be more like this, although I noted with disapproval that the marina was "private" – enclosing the commons.  Tut.

21.10.21

Up on the Rock again, staring across at the mountains of Morocco.  Brilliant sunshine, fresh breeze, nobody else up here.  Wonderful – surely one of the greatest views on earth.  We were so near to Morocco that our phones switched from Gibtel to a Moroccan provider… 

Exploring the northern part of the Rock.  Along to the Great Siege Tunnels.  Amazing achievement, with great views of airport where planes take off infrequently, but impressively.  Before each take-off, a police car clears the road, with siren blaring.  

Two things seem more common here than I expected: people speaking Spanish, and people smoking...it's like going back in time to the UK in the 1970s.  Which seems appropriate.

Back in the Water Front, where we had a drink yesterday, but now for supper.  Busy, lots of people who look as if they belong with the very swish boats in the marina.  But getting here from the hotel was madness.  This town seems designed to stop easy access anywhere.  There are long physical obstacles – bastions from the past, blocks of offices or flats from the present – that require huge detours to pass around.  This is the worst-designed place I have every visited.

22.10.21

In Grand Casemates Square, sitting in the sun as it rises from behind the Rock.  The fact that the city is in the shade for several hours lends it a very particular quality.  As does the number of old people hobbling along with walking sticks. 

Yesterday, I forgot to mention that on the way down from the Great Siege tunnels, we visited the Moorish Castle.  Just a bare shell now, but impressive enough in its own way.  A useful reminder of the Moorish heritage here – even down to its name [according to Wikipedia, the name is derived from Arabic: جبل طارق‎, romanized: Jabal Ṭāriq, lit. 'Mount of Tariq' (named after the 8th-century Moorish military leader Tariq ibn Ziyad)].

Now in the ultra-swish, rather empty airport building.  But its main feature is the north side of the Rock in all its gleaming limestone glory.  Certainly a memorable sight – the White Cliffs of Dover packed into a single, soaring spire – rather like the similarly shaped church in Reyjavik – but much bigger.  Rather let down by the dull and stumpy flats and hotels at its base, dwarfed by Nature.

This morning, we walked around the city.  I always want to call it a town – city sounds too grand, but it has not one, but two cathedrals.  The Roman Catholic one (very dull) and the Anglican one, which has an appropriately Moorish cut to its ecclesiastical job (sic).  Inevitably, it reminds me of Mezquita in Cordoba, but a pale, genteel version.

The thing is, there really isn't that much to see in Gibraltar.  Except the Rock, of course, and its delightful apes.  And indeed, the view from the top in clear weather is certainly one of my top sights – along with that from Gergeti Church in Georgia, from the Sugarloaf Mountain in Rio, and from the top of Mount Batur in Bali.

Monday 14 September 2020

2020 Scotland: Isle of Skye, Outer Hebrides

8.9.20 Uig

On the ferry, waiting to sail to Tarbert.  Bright day, odd patches of blue.  Yesterday, rainy, as we drove across from Inverness past Loch Ness, then along the A87 through what was impressive if misty scenery, down to Kyle of Lochalsh.  Flew in to Inverness Sunday – easy travel, ironically.  Few people at Gatwick, plane not too full.  Flight short, but then a two-hour wait to pick up our rental car – lots of people hiring cars, so we had to wait for returns.  Madness.

Back in to Inverness, where we last came four years ago.  Small but pleasant city.  We stay in a fairly luxurious apartment, almost with a view of the river.  A good place to relax before beginning our journey to the West.  Drove across "new" Skye bridge – last time I came, 30 odd years ago, I took the short ferry across.  Bridge fairly unexceptionable.  Certainly easy.  Then drove up to Sligachan Hotel for lunch in Seamus' Bar.  I think I may have stayed here all those years ago.   Raining, so not worth walking anywhere.  Up past Portree to our B&B near Uig.   After large lunch, didn't fancy trek down to Portree for dinner, so had supper of nuts, figs and digestives.  Rather good.

Slept well, then to here early to fill up car at nearby petrol station: not many options on Lewis, so best to start with a full tank.  Quite a big ship, 50-60 cars, lorries.  Reasonable price – only £40 for car and two passengers.

Now in Aird Uig, one of the most isolated and extreme points of Scotland/UK/Europe.  From our room in Seacroft B&B we can see the Atlantic.  Straight ahead of us lies thousands of kilometres of nothing.  We arrived in Harris, in Tarbert.  I love ferries, the sense of voyaging out and beyond.  We looked in Tarbert for somewhere to eat.  The only café there is closed, so we buy ham, cheese and bananas at the local store.  Another weird but satisfying meal.  Then out west, along the southern side of Lewis.  The road narrows to a single track, but with multiple passing places.

Stunning views as the road twists and rises and falls.  We head towards a castle, but never get there: the going too slow, and we are heading in the wrong direction for our lodging.  So back to the (only) main road that runs up to the island's capital, Stornoway.  Landscape magnificent, weather holding up, and barely a vehicle on the road except us.  Reminds me strongly of the Lake District, but much grander, and unspoilt.  I doubt I will go to the Lake District again.  

We pass an amazing double sea loch, with a high mountain between – Seaforth Island, I see from the map.  I'm struck as so often by the chasm between the flat, easy, almost featureless topography of maps and the powerful reality packed with geographical incident that they so feebly represent.

The landscape flattens and we turn off left into the heart of Lewis.  Very boggy here, then more rocky outcrops – and no human habitations.  As we approach Uig, we travel down a high-walled valley: reminds me of Darial Gorge.  Indeed, generally the landscape reminds me of Georgia: majestic, barely touched by humans.  Then to Aird Uig, a few houses at the end of the road/world.  As we are early, we go down to the beach.  The huge pebbles are like rounded rocks – hard to walk on.  It's Cornwall without the sand.  The Atlantic brooding magnificently.

Our rooms spacious, the food high quality, if pricey.  Impressively fast Internet provided wirelessly.A good place to use as base for exploration of this fascinating location.  Although I've known of the Outer Hebrides for 50 years, I never thought to visit them – perhaps they seemed too hard to get to.  In fact, the ferries make it relatively easy.

9.9.20 Aird Uig

A day full of sea, rain and wind – which probably counts as a glorious day up here.  First, out to Ardroil beach/Uig sands - where the famous Lewis chessmen were found.  Huge – makes Polzeath look tiddly.  And that's with the tide in.  There were just four of us on the beach – I wonder how full it is during summer high season.  The car park nearby is reasonably large, suggesting quite a few come, but this beach could never be busy.  On one side, a curious collection of large and small rocks – looked very Martian, reds everywhere, plus a few black boulders.  Back across the swaying grasses to the car, a very characteristic machair landscape.  

Then through the amazing Glen Valtos once more, to Valtos itself, taking the scenic road clockwise around the headland.  To Reef beach – very white and weird, with millions of larger shells indicative of the billions of shell fragments that make up the beach: no sand here.  Must be painful to walk on with bare feet.  A few others on the beach, mostly with dogs.  The view across Loch Rog very fine – better than Ardroil beach, which is bigger but the surroundings less impressive.  

To Uig community shop to buy odds and ends for lunch (huge Scottish breakfast meant that more was unnecessary), then out again along Glen Valtos, and down past the long finger of Loch Rog, up to Callanish to see the (main) stone circle.  Different from Stonehenge, but impressive in its own way.  The sharp standing stones all very different – each one a character.  And the extended cruciform nature of the site is intriguing.  What amazed me most was that there are several hundred such circles in Scotland, which is an astonishing thought.  Also, why go to the trouble of building out here on Lewis, the end of the world?  What possessed people thousands of years ago to put so much effort into an endeavour so far from everything?

Back in Aird Uig, we walk up to the headland, past dozens of army digs, many converted into private houses.  Once, there was an RAF radar station up here, and as well as the accommodation, there are also the foundations of other structures connected with the base.  Most weird is a squat green building, derelict, with tiny crenellations along the top of its sides, like some futuristic Knossos.

10.9.20 Port Ness

Sitting in the The Breakwater café, one of the few places open this end of the island, which is bleak, bleak, bleak.  Earlier, drove along "our" road, along the glen, past the stone circles to the broch at Dun Carloway.  Under repair, but an impressive structure nonetheless.  Then on to the blackhouse village at Garenin.  Closed, but we could still walk around it.  Thick thatch held down by rocks tied together, low, squat buildings.  Looked cosy, if rather smokey thanks to the peat fires that burned constantly inside them.  After that, to the big standing stone at Clach an Trushal – 6 metres of rock, vertical.  In the middle of nowhere.  Must have been an effort getting it here.  

A long, desperate drive to here, trying to find something – anything – that would serve us food.  This café has a fantastic location, overlooking the harbour and beach.  Light, and popular by the looks of it.  Afterwards, a quick glance at the port – not a picturesque one, but a rather ugly working one.  Huge concrete walls protecting it from the even higher Atlantic waves.

To the medieval St Moluag's Church, but built on something much older, pagan.  Again: that question – why here?  The church closed, but a bare interior visible through a window.  The external sight is enough: simple but powerful.

Along the road to the Butt of Lewis and its fine lighthouse, unusual in its dark red brickwork.  A charming white-painted house alongside, presumably for the keeper.  Whereas the landscape on the way here was flat, dour and dreary, the cliffs by the lighthouse are splendid – very like Land's End, but a darker-hued rock, with many fragments in the sea, forming a maze of shapes, with the sea surging among them - arguably even more powerful than Cornwall.

11.9.20 Stornoway

The big city, bright lights.  Well, not really.  A couple of streets of shops, a crazy gothic church with a monstrous tower, the place dominated by two ports – the small fishing one, and the larger one for the ferry – why we are here. Weather very blowy – intermittent sun and rain.  Bracing.

Lunch in the cheap and cheerful The Tearoom by the main harbour (and car park).  Pretty minimalist, but ridiculously hard to get in: we had to come back, and even then, were squeezed in on the table of someone coming later on.  Afterwards, to the ferry terminal.  Turns out our ship is much bigger than the one here – far more traffic crossing to Ullapool.  Very smooth journey, even thought the wind was fierce on the streets.  Some dolphins were visible as we drew nearer the mainland.  Scottish highlands emerged from the mists, sun shining intermittently.  Downpours promised for tomorrow…  Then straight out of Ullapool to our hotel, the Dundonell.  

Down Loch Broom, up the hill to Little Loch Broom – strikingly beautiful and unspoilt.  Lots of forestry plantations here, many cut down, looking like the ugly deforestation in Brazil, but without the tropical heat.  Hotel old-fashioned but quaint.  To reach our room, we ascend a long, straight staircase to the third floor – like one of the tombs in the Valley of the Kings, but in reverse.  It turns out the higher rooms are built along the hillside – interesting.  Everything rather faded – no mixer taps, water brown from the mountain source.  But atmospheric.  And remember: as for houses, the three most important things for hotels are location, location, location.  And this one certainly has it, with fine views to the loch and mountains.

12.9.20 Inverness

In the Best Western Inverness Palace hotel.  Despite its naff name, it is an old, classic, Victorian hotel – built around 1880, with the best views over the river and the rather unimpressive castle.  From Dundonnell hotel we took the slow scenic route via Gairloch.  Great views out to sea.  Best part was along Loch Maree - long and impressive.  Weather alternating sun and squally rain.  Arrived here at 12.30, too early to register, so around the town for lunch.  Inverness is quite strange: a city that is tiny compared to London, but big for Scotland.  Also full of very odd architecture.  One building on the western bank of the River Ness had a pediment supported by two pairs of pilasters – one flat, the other curved – reaching the full height of the building.  Made me think of San Giorgio Maggiore.  Never seen anything like it in a house.  Nice.

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Wednesday 15 April 2020

2015 Tbilisi

3.10.15

Sitting in Gatwick.  Rather appropriate that the previous entry in this notebook was for Latvia, where I went to the Georgian restaurant, and I wrote: "felt like I was in the Caucusus – if only…".  And here I am, waiting for a flight to Istanbul where, if I'm lucky, I will connect to a flight to Tbilisi.  My only fear is that fog here will delay my flight – but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

4.10.15

Sitting outside Sion cathedral, Georgian polyphony pouring over me.  Church full to overflowing.  Glorious sunny day – for now.  Rain promised later.  Tbilisi beautiful, as I knew it would be.  Old Metekhi Hotel great – fine view over river to the fortress.  Breakfast, er, simple – instant coffee, nice Georgian porridge.  Almost without exception, the women wear scarves for the church.  Gives a very middle eastern feel to the scene.  Quite a few young people here too.  An old geezer cam up to me, shook my hand.  Only spoke Georgian, so I don't know what he said…rugged, weatherbeaten face.  As I walk away, the bell tolls slowly…

Sitting in Café Tbilisi in Rustaveli, maybe not a wonderful choice, but I'm tired and thirsty…  Been walking for two hours.  Up Rustaveli, past all the landmarks – theatre, museums, parliament, up to Rose Revolution Square – where there is a wine festival.  Then to the concert hall, where TV are recording a load of children.  Lots of pet shops around here – weird.  As I went down Rustaveli, heard incredible Georgian singing everywhere – came from Georgian Day of Wine.  Deafening, amazing.  Wine not bad too – pity I couldn't get one of the t-shirts.  Now in Khinkhali House nearby – strange to see fags on menu, and people smoking in the restaurant.  Bare, but looks pretty popular with locals – a good sign.  

Now sitting in Prospero's Books – or rather, Caliban's Café.  I have been weak, bought two Georgian language books – but they look good, and the pound is very strong, so prices low.  Very nice here, good atmosphere – not sure about Caliban's coffee…  Down Rustaveli, then across to the National Gallery.  Into Pirosmani gallery.  I vaguely know these, but to see them together, up close, is weird.  A kind of darker Rousseau – almost bonkers.  For example, his "Donkey Bridge" is just bizarre… There's a small group of Germans having a tour here – there were several on the plane from Istanbul.  I got the impression they are one of the main tourist groups here.  In the other side of the gallery, mostly a painter called Gudiashvili.  Rather depressing, but certainly has his own style.  Another painter, David Kakabadze.  Rather more humane.  Nice portraits and landscapes.

Back to the hotel using the metro.  Which is incredibly deep: 100/150 metres perhaps?  The escalator is like a trip down to hell.  Trains look Soviet style, old but functional.  Easy trip back, though.  Then showered, logged on – wifi very good, makes Google Hangouts work really well.  Finally, the clouds have come, rain falls in big drops, lightning in the hills.  So I decide to take the easy option, go to Old Metekhi restaurant next to the hotel.  Got last table – full of groups, mostly tourists.  But food is supposed to be good.  Ordered cold soup, and chicken in blackberry sauce, plus red Georgian wine.  Nice – strong, with marsala-like aftertaste.  Very dark ghvino… Judging by the soaked people coming in, I made a good decision not to walk… Lots of old people here. 

It feels good making these trips, plunging into the unknown.  I certainly want to travel around this region – Iran may be possible now things are opening up there.  Plus Turkey, Armenia, Azerbaijan… 

Cold soup – yoghurt, dill, cucumber, garlic – yum.  And...people are smoking in here….

5.10.15

Slept very well considering the three-hour time difference – amazing how walking tires you out.  Today, as feared, rather damp and fresh.  Still, yesterday was perfect.  Two things I noticed.  First, Georgian women look very typical for the region – Armenian/Iranian.  Dark, heavy brows, rather bulging features.  The other is how few fat people there are.  Yes, quite a few men have booze bellies, but few really fat.  Poverty maybe a factor: there are a lot of old people begging in the streets.

Out into the rain, which is more a drizzle – not unpleasant.  Over to the hot baths, smell of sulphur in the air.  Found a couple of restaurants for dinner.  Then up to the fortress – to the top, with very dodgy steps, no handrail.  Now sitting inside the church within the fortress.  Very simple iconostasis in on the east side, frescoes and icons everywhere.  Faint smell of incense.  Priest/guardian here, doing stuff.  Distant car horns – the Georgians love them some car horns.  One interesting fact: of the million cars here, 250,000 use right-hand drive – because they are cheaper, imported from Japan, mostly.  Strange to see this mixture of left-hand and right-hand drive.

On the way down from the fortress, I stopped off at the Armenian church.  To the right, the tomb of Sayat Nova, killed in 1795 by the Persians.  Amazing that he's here – emphasises Tbilisi's key cultural role.  Church being restored.  Then back to the old city, to here, the Anchiskhati Basilica.  Truly ancient – small, old frescoes, older stone.  Goes back to the sixth century.  Sitting in a café by the church (Gabriadze).  Sadly there are some noisy USians, but otherwise rather beautiful here.  Church was fantastic, took many photos.

Topped up my Geocell SIM, asked where post office is: no one knows… weird.  Now back in Caliban's Café – all galleries closed today, so choice limited for cafés (assuming they have any).  Will go out to station after – I like stations.  Also, the main market is supposed to be there. On meeting, people kiss once – left cheeks touching… Surprised how few Russians around – only heard it spoken a couple of times.  I suppose they don't get on well, now…

Took metro to station, wandered around market there – very middle eastern/Turkish.  Big jewellery hall.  Then tried to find post office.  There's one at the station, but they didn't sell stamps.  Told to go to next metro stop.  Did so, failed to find anything.  Then took metro down to my "home" stop, Avlabari.  Didn't go to hotel, but turned towards huge Holy Trinity Cathedral.  Very impressive – soars upwards in beautiful stone.  Inside, very clean, very tall.  Georgian orthodox wedding taking place – bride and groom wearing crowns.  Surrounding local area strikingly - poor rundown houses, etc.

Along to Puris Sakhli – House of Bread, opposite my hotel, on the other river bank.  Ordered a bottle of Teliani red – 20 lari – not much more than a glass of something else.  Also ordered khachapuri to mop things up, plus pig's heart and liver.  For some reason, the twinkling radio mast up on the hills ahead of me reminds when I was taken to Lykavitos...now, that was a while ago.  Kupati – a kind of sausage, it seems.  Rather rich.  Might try the churchkhela, seen them everywhere…

6.10.15

Another glorious day.  Sitting on seats in alcoves opposite Sioni cathedral.  Earlier, I went in Old Metekhi church – rather nice.  Then, finally found someone to sell me a stamp.  Looked in the church next to the dilapidated Armenian church, but there was a service.  To Sioni, hit by a wall of incense as I entered.  Sun now really hot.  Surprising number of nuns around, in their pillbox black hat and veil.

Out to the station by metro (again).  Really hard to find the platforms – hidden away behind a huge shopping centre.  Very bare and forbidding – looks very Soviet, even if later.  Then back to Rustaveli; along to Museum of Modern Art.  Mainly Zurab Tsereteli – very vigorous, a bit monotonous.  But what strikes me most are the photos.   Tsereteli with Clinton,  Tsereteli with Deneuve,  Tsereteli with Richard Gere…  The constant grin on everyone's face – so false.

Now sitting in the sepulchral Alani restaurant – Ossetian fare, and nearby.  Another fab day.  Lunch at Prospero's Books – conveniently placed, and I wanted wifi to check on something.  Very pleasant idling time there – maps on to lots of other places – Dublin, New Zealand, etc., those moments of tranquillity.  Also, I wanted to buy Harry Potter 1 in Georgian, which I did.  I also bought another, bigger dictionary from one of the dozens of people selling books in the street – especially Russian books.  Very tempting, but carrying them back a problem.

Then to the National Museum.  One of the impressive things there is the 1.4 million-year-old skulls, found in Georgia, some of the oldest hominids.  One touching fact: one skull has no teeth – and worn down gums.  Clearly quite old, and looked after by the tribe.  This is the basis of our success.  Also impressive the Colchis gold – amazingly able goldsmiths and quite unknown to the rest of the world.  All those civilisations…

Eating Alani salad – meat, mushrooms, etc. – meat rather fatty; lobiani – bread with bean paste – nice; and lamb stew – again, meat not wonderful.  A glass of rather perfumed wine, plus Borjomi water.  Upstairs in the museum, a display about the "Russian occupation" – which Georgians clearly feel bad about.  Strange to see pix of Saakashvili, with music by Michael Nyman in the background.  Oh no, the music show has started in the restaurant – very bass heavy, mournful soprano singing of her woes.  Too loud…

After the museum, walked down to the old town – feels like middle east/turkey/Samarkand.  Popped in to the church I saw briefly this morning – completely painted inside, very small.  As well as the music here in the restaurant, place is full of smoke – very authentic.  A table is full of baldy men who periodically rise to toast.  Food interesting, but not great – lots of fat, but probably reflecting cooking reality when times are hard.  Talking of which, lots of beggars around – old ladies, just lying in the street, wrapped up, with begging bowl for money.  On the metro, a lone clarinet player today; yesterday, a blind man led by a young man with some genetic disease… On the metro, felt again how deep we were: and if there were an earthquake?  The distance between stations great – one kilometre?  A long way to walk…

Afterwards, in my room, plunging into Twitter discussions.  Connectivity very good – video calls pretty clear.  Shows one could live/work here…  Finally trying chacha – identical to grappa..  On Mekhiti bridge – amazing atmosphere – balmy, calm, everyone out.  Pity about the beggar girl that grabbed on to my legs as I moved off…

7.10.15

Rain when I woke up, but cleared to a hot and humid day.  Given that I have to get to the airport by 3, I went up to Holy Trinity Cathedral – seems a quintessential combination of ancient and modern, of Georgia's religiosity, its ambitions.  Three monks singing in three parts to accompany the service.  Pretty empty otherwise.  Sun really hot, so I've taken refuge in the main restaurant overlooking Vakhtang Gorgasali Square.  Again, they seem to think I'm Russian – gave me the Russian menu… Weird seeing cable cars passing overhead out of the corner of my eye.  Nice pix of Old Tbilisi including Metekhi church, where my hotel now is.  

To the airport.  Driven by a crazy old geezer, answering his mobile, steering with one hand, and doing 120 km/hour where the limit is 40 km/hour.  Oh, and no seat belts in the back…  But I made it, through security, looking at the fine Georgian wines.  Hope I can get them through security in Istanbul, where they've added it for transit.  At least this time I have longer to get to my plane.  And anyway, staying over in Istanbul would not be the end of the world...

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Moody's Black Notebook Travels