Georgia

Georgia, a country at the intersection of Europe and Asia, is a former Soviet republic that’s home to Caucasus Mountain villages and Black Sea beaches. It’s famous for Vardzia, a sprawling cave monastery dating to the 12th century, and the ancient wine-growing region Kakheti. The capital, Tbilisi, is known for the diverse architecture and maze-like, cobblestone streets of its old town.

A long lunch

I move away from the Russian border, its a short ride through a rough natural canyon, then to the Georgian customs, the Georgian border process is straightforward almost to easy, for the first time on this trip I enter the country with no temporary import paperwork, this does not feel right…”should I have anything more” I ask pointing to my V5 “for the Motorcycle” I am told firmly “No, please go now” others waiting in the queue give me the “well go on then, bugger off” look, so I do, and I am off into the mountains, 3Km after the border I get insurance out of a shipping container as Manuel had described to me, you have to buy the insurance in cash and by a lucky coincidence (the Insurance guys brother probably) there is a money exchange service next door ………with I might add the most rubbish exchange rates, but hey what choice do you have.  I give the money man a 20 dollar bill, he tells me “no good” what!! there is a small black pen mark on it, you have got to be kidding man…I open up my wallet, show him I have nothing else other than four 1 dollar bills and he does me such a big favour (with a roll of the eyes) and gives me the local currency.

Back out of one shipping container and into the other next door, I get some kind of cover for 15 days for  about £7 which is fine and I am off down the mountain to my rendezvous at the Snow cafe….I stop at a corner to watch some parascenders running and leaping into oblivion, then circling gently in the afternoon sun, straight away this place feels more affluent, somehow brighter.

30 minutes later I arrive at the Snow Cafe on a bit of a high, the roads too here have been superb mountain switchbacks and Irene plots a sublime path down, the drop offs certainly get your attention, just a knee high steel rope barrier or small wall protecting you from a 500 feet drop if you get it wrong……

I find somewhere to park Irene where she can lean into the slope, and look for the entrance, no sign of my new friends, am I at the right place, did I miss them, maybe they already left, well I made a promise so I order a coffee, and if the don’t arrive by the time I have finished I will head into Tbilisi some 100Km away.

Of course they do, just as I am about to think about leaving…..food is ordered and as we sit and talk some food arrives, a Georian Pizza type cheese bread arrives and is shared between us, so tasty, they are delighted and insist I have the most slices…its lovely food, just as i am tucking in to my second slice, more food arrives…………some meat filled dumplings, and more and more….holy moly even for me this is too much, hardly any room on the table, they insist I eat and eat then we talk over coffee, they are the most wonderful and generous family. Turns out Revaz (the father) is an ex Soviet Helicopter pilot and Nic his son is a financier. They are interested in my journey and they invite me to there home near the border with Turkey if I have time, as I am about to leave Nic says “my father would be very happy if you visited us” and he means it, his father nodding in agreement, I promise to keep in touch and thank them for the best welcome into any country so far on this trip…..hard to imagine such kindness to a total stranger back in the UK, clearly European tourists are very rare coming in this direction but all the same….I make a promise to myself to repay these random acts of kindness on my return home….I head off, stopping to take pictures, the views are spectacular….……….traditional markets selling some decent stuff.

Right, now to get to Georgia before dark, but hang on a minute, its 17:30…and only 45 minutes before dark, where the hell did that day go, probably the 3 hour lunch break did not help!!!

Eventually I get to Tbilisi, the city traffic is very heavy, but I battle through and make it to the yard hostel for about 7pm……I can’t find a way in at first, heavy metal gates block my way, but after some poilite banging a door within a door opens and I am in….Hmm the place feels a little quiet but I have my own room and its very cheap, I unpack and have a shower and reflect on the day…what a ferkin achievement I am in Georgia, country number 7 and it feels great!!!!

Next day things don’t look quite so bad at the yard, but compared with other Hostels is so so quiet….I make contact with Graham at Rushmore Motorcycles and will see him for the tyres and a service in a few days, before that I have a few things to sort out as a priority, I have really missed not having a data sim while travelling through Russia and I use a Yandex taxi to get me into town…. ….as we travel through some back streets I spy a large hostel with Motorcycles in the courtyard, this place looks interesting, I quickly bookmark the location on MapsMe.

I find the phone shop and £4 later I have a 10GB two week data sim….excellent! I also get 500 Lari out of the cashpoint and I am solvent again….Whilst on this side of town I take a look at the tourist attractions here, there is a monastery high up on the hill, you can take a ride but the queue is long so I decide to walk, its quite a trek but worth it for the amazing views….Whilst looking around I make a decision to change hostels, I am in town for 7 nights and the Hostel I am in whilst OK it is so quiet, my room has no windows…there is also no communal area.

I am having a wonderful coffee at the usual TV transmitter observation cafe above the monastery….and discover the hostel online…its called the Fabrika……and its turns out this was an old Soviet  sewing factory…I get a cab there and take a look around, this place is huge….. …..lots of memorabilia from the factory has been left, pictures, machines, this place is seriously cool, sort of place Banksy went for his apprenticeship with that trendy industrial feel, its been converted into a huge mega hostel, with shops, there is even a barbers there, bars and cafes all buzzing and full of life….I reserve a room at Fabrika I head back to my Yard Hostel, ironically as I walk through the gates I am welcomed back people playing on musical instruments, smiling, but it is too late now my mind is made up….I break the news to my host, he is clearly not happy, well more disappointed which makes me feel worse, I offer to pay for two nights even though I leave after one, I load up Irrene and I am away!

At the Fabrika I am now in a dormitory and I settle in, bag the bed in the corner, there is another motorcyclist in the room, we get talking and I am kindly invited to join him and his friends…we have a super evening as the place start to fill up, before long there are maybe 300 people there…I feel seriously old but this place is cool..…..from one extreme to another eh, boy am I out of my comfort zone.

They are going on to a club later and at around 11pm I head off to bed while the party the night away. Jeees I have motorcycles older than these guys…

Rushmore Motorcycles

Next day I head out today to meet Graham at Rushmore Motorcycles on the other side of the City, I need to  get my tyres changed and have the bike serviced, he has an impressive motorcycle shop………..very professional with top of the range ramps set in a tidy workshop.

The guys start on my bike, they are very methodical with their work, pointing out any issues as they go, referring to workshop manuals, all very reassuring. I does seem to take an age though, but eventually its done, I even get the wheels balanced which is a first for probably 20,000 miles…..….the mechanic takes my bike for a test ride, he comes back with a damming verdict on my engine, “it breaks my heart to feel how bad your bike is” he says, still in denial I think to myself well she has got me this far sunshine…..still I would and have recommended Graham, very helpful guy if you need help in Georgia.…..new tyres fitted I ride home to Fabrika and Irene does feel bad its true, the engine struggling top pick up revs and the tyres feel very different, they will bed in after a few hundred miles I am sure… 

The rest of the day is spent on the blog and another nice evening with my new Anglo German friends…this place is heaving on a weekend, there is a central courtyard and there must be at least 1000 people stood around, talking, drinking, the place is rammed, the atmosphere and music awesome.It takes ages to work through the crowd just to check on Irene 

                                                                                                                                                                          Next day you would never know, a small army hosing the place down before I get to breakfast……..and what a breakfast it is, best for a long time, easy to get comfortable here, I spend time updating my blog, I had forgotten how much time we had spent in Mongolia, how much had happened, this will certainly be the biggest blog yet…..

Rugby Live

In the afternoon I am going to a Rugby match with one of the guys from the hostel, the hostel owner is playing however the reception people have never heard of the place, we head off in a Yandex taxi, out past the lake, up a dirt track, this really looks like an unlikely location for a stadium, further and further but wait what’s that, flood lights, players warming up, we direct the taxi driver and walk towards the game, I wonder if I am wasting my time, there is no entrance fee and a crowd of maybe 100 people….……well it turns out to be a cracking game of Rugby both teams going for it and some really nice flowing stuff as well…….this is the first live sport I have seen live since April, six months ago, its a nice feeling and a real contrast from the austerity, the hand to mouth existence of the last 3 months, already Georgia feels familiar, and I think as I watch the game that this is the transition country, really feels like I am heading back to Europe now!

The game is very close and end to end, almost with minutes to go Tiblisi level the score 26 – 26, wow I really enjoyed this game.

The weather changes next day, its pouring down with heavy rain and to top it all there hostel does not have any water, seems there is some work going on with the water main in the street, a note comes under the door in my room saying water will not be on until noon…….…..OK well a perfect day to get to grips with the blog then, working through the Mongolia text its clear how big a task this one is, news comes through of a revised water switch on time, now its going to be 21:00hrs, ah well I can cope with no shower but others are leaving and the hostel ships them down to the Holiday Inn free of charge…..how cools is that, well done Fabrika.

By the end of the day I almost finish with my blog work, I have been at it for probably 11 hours but finally its done, what a great base the Fabrica is….

City tour

No writing today the weather is better, lets get out in the city and have a look around, after breakfast of course! Its probably a 20 minute walk into town….….grand old buildings on the way in….…on the edge of the city by the river there is a flea market……..selling all sorts, plates, old cameras, car radios, tools all sorts of random of stuff…..…..they store their stuff in abandoned cars overnight…..….you could spend hours hereI spend thee day in the City, the Hostel has put together a recommended walking route  around the old town……..one single glass high rise office on the skyline, ….I will learn more later….…..its a charming place, nice parks, provocative art…….what is not to like about Tbilisi…..…old town….…full of small alleyways with bars and restaurants…

….and the famous Gabriadze clock tower…….restaurants and bars down side streets…..Georgia flag a red cross on a white background, Georgia shares St George with England, Croatia and Malta…….the central park area a mixture of old and new…..….with lots of open spaces…

There are these stone domes in one area and these turn out to me hot spring baths,  look very cool and not so expensive, another day perhaps…

There is a cable car to the castle but I decide to walk, the roads are steep, cobbled although it is worth it for the incredible view….The old town is well very old, a little like many old town in Europe, narrow streets, cool cafes, this place is affluent in the tourist areas….It must have been Tbilisi wedding weekend, I see at least three as they have pictures……I must have taken 200 pictures today, very cool city.

Moving on (Well that’s the plan)

In the evening it’s back to reality as the planning for the next stage starts. breaking the journey down as before to protect my fragile engine, it looks like this….

Batumi    379km 4.5 hrs

Trabzon and border crossing 200km 2.5hrs 

Samsun  330Km   3.5hrs

Bolu 472km   5hrs

Istanbul  263km 2hrs

…..after that I will make it up as I go, I already have my Turkish visa, one more day then off again.

The next day after breakfast I head off for some fuel…I put on my heavy bike gear and ride to the nearest fuel station in the morning sun, as we head into the traffic she does not feel quite right, there is a long queue at the fuel station so I switch the engine off and when its my turn every tank is filled, then Irene refuses to start, with every tank full, some 25 litres and 25 kg of weight its a disaster, she wont start, I try many times but its useless, the engine turns but she does not fire into life, the battery now almost flat!!!! Last hope is a bumps start but it is useless and I am stuck in town!

I end up having to push the bike back to the Hostel some 2km away, I eventually get to the hostel, I am knackered and a little destroyed, covered in sweat, stressed and wondering how Irene can be so ferkin fragile.

I start thinking about options now just as Gary arrives from Baku, its clear solo travel is out of the question, so it’s travel with Gary or look at getting the bike shipped home. Yet again Irene moves to centre stage……..bugger!

Enter Irakli, A guy working out of the hostel gets talking to me, at first just showing an interest in my bike but he can see I am in a situation, and offers me his sympathy, he seems genuine enough, maybe he can help in some way….who knows…we exchange numbers, he has known me 5 minutes and offers me use of his scooter, how nice is that…..

Plan B, C and D

I head over to see Graham at Rushmore by taxi,  he says he can help me with a Triumph shipping container, some of the top section is missing but he can sort this out for a reasonable $100….maybe less if I help him with his website. He will also arrange for a truck to pick up my bike.….I also ask him about buying a bike, I make it clear its plan H but I ask anyway, I start to think he is an OK guy, time will tell. Both triumphs come in at £8,500 (that I dont have) without warranty and I will need to pay import duties when I register in the UK, in addition there is a question mark about getting through border crossings legally,  look nice though..I take some measurements of the shipping container…

….ironically almost the same as the ones we had used in Vancouver, well its a start.

I return to the Hostel and lick my wounds, I try to start the bike now its cold and blow me she starts, rough but still she is running, what the heck, maybe there is a chance, could it be just a weak battery, could it?  Maybe I can continue west, I am only 1000 miles from Bulgaria and free recovery. Is it possible, well I am not going to give up easily.

Next day I gear up to buy some oil and hope to put a few kilometers on to give the battery a boost, at the fuel station I get the oil keeping the engine running as I pay, but what was I thinking, as I jump back on she is rougher than ever, I head back to the Hostel and then with about a kilometer to go It gets worse folks…the oil light flickers,  and within a few hundred metres the oil light comes on and stays on, white smoke is coming from beneath the seat, I stop Irene, engine off her trip is over!

The funny thing is at that moment part of me is relived but only because at last I have some certainty, no more endless theories to fit it with Irene’s symptoms, this is a great bike but its a fragile thougourbred that needs constant attention a nearby dealer networkand now she will go no further…. 

I spend the rest of  the day thinking about how I am going to get out of this hole, its still early, I have a great 2 hour breakfast, think I am the last to leave but I get a good idea of costs on my two plan as follows

1. Fly home and come back for Irene with Chris in a Van. £2000
2. Ship Irene direct to the UK and fly home.  £1100
3. Try and buy a car/van locally. £???
4. Get Irene fixed and return the following year. £2 – 3000

At the moment shipping Irene is my favoured option,  the drive option is possible but 9600Km even on easy roads is a long old way…..

I walk the familiar route to the park in the autumn sun as I sit in the park I notice quite a few dogs around, they all have tags in their ears one of them befriended me…..……..goes to sleep on my feet, the contact feels great, I say to myself, life is good dave, just take some time to work this out, this is not a bad place to be stranded!! …I later learn that all stray dogs in the city are tagged which also showed they have been inoculated and are rabies free, and there was me thinking they were some kind of forward thinking programme to befriend lonley tourists….Doh! 

Thanks Irakli

I drop Irakli a message, asking if I could meet him the following day, explaining my situation and options he comes straight back which I was not expecting, this guy is amaz-ing..

That evening I sit in the bar with music and a beer and reflect, look nothing really happened today, something just broke,  life is good, in fact life is wonderful, if and when I am stressed back at work I need to look back to this very rare quite time and be satisfied I made best use of this time..lucky I found this place!……..and how much worse it would have been if the engine had gone in the middle of the Kazakhstan planes, yep really lucky, I am solo now, embrace it my son..I can feel my appetite coming back….the cloud maybe lifting eh.

I am not a great pillion passenger…….FACT

Well quite a funny day today…I have a good morning updating the blog until it gets to a point when I run out of steam which nicely coincides with my meeting with Irakil, we have an enjoyable lunchtime coffee or two and start going through the options, I have found a shipping company but they speak little English, Irakli offers to help.

He calls Kristina from a shipping company, at first it seems optimistic but then there is a lot of confusion and it’s not quite a clear cut as I first thought.

Irakli suggest we go around to see her rather than try to do this over the phone , what a good idea, I say I will get a taxi, he comes out with his classic “No stress man”  he arranges a time and says “meet you by my scooter!!!!“Errr OK give me 5 minutes to get some bike gear”, I say…..its a bit cramped on his little Suzuki scooter but he is a smooth rider we zoom through the city streets at quite a speed and we eventually find the offices of Magnet Shipping. It becomes clear they have not done something like this before, they talk about import and export taxes and my heart sinks, ah well it was was a blast through the streets….

How many times on this trip have random people, helped me, supported me, I thank Irakil and hope we will meet again some day…. 

Slava KTMs man of mystery!

I stay up late trying to get tired due to the nutter in my room, he is clearly ill, rocking on the bed, constantly going through a ritual then getting up looking out the window, the light goes on, the light goes off, on, off  on, I am trying to be tolerant BUT…., he is talking to himself, this guy has some serious issues, perhaps he was sent to remind me how trivial my situation is……Grrrrr….No point trying to sleep any more, its 5am  I go down to the huge lounge area and start to think about the Polish shipping company that others used in Mongolia, I find their website, the price is good, this looks promising, but wait, nooooo the season is over, the next dates from Tbilisi are March 2019!!!!

Hang on though, whats this….whilst I am looking through my old blog notes I remember a guy that Hannes used to get his bike to Bishkek, I guy called Slava.  I track his company down on the Internet, its not hard its KTM Georgia, I  ping Hannes and he sends me Slava phone number.

Excited I wait until 9am and I pop a WhatsApp message to Slava and we start to exchange texts, fek this is moving quickly, just an hour later by 10am he has quoted me 800 Euros and a man will be over in 90 minutes to collect me and the bike and take back I assume to the shop…..wow this is a turn around, moving fast, maybe too fast, anyway I am flat out for the next 2 hours packing and weighing, and I get all of the heavy stuff into one bag which weighs 23kg. I separate my worldly possessions into two piles, stuff that can go with the bike and stuff that I want to ensure does not get lost, stuff that is irreplaceable, like the hand made knife and beam from the old summer road.  

I tell reception I am expecting someone and 3 hours later they arrive….I had almost given up on them, but a van with a half tidy KTM logo is parked in the street….….I run out to hail them, then explain I need to get my wallet and paperwork, I dash up to the room and by the time I am back in the courtyard they are already wheeling Irene down the street, does this feel dodgy, yes just a little,  mirrors off, in the back of the van she goes, they take me out past the airport, its a battle through traffic,  randomly I am handed a sandwich and cold drink they have bought me “from Slava” I am told which is really nice  (too nice perhaps) 

They speak very little English, everything feels totally out of control, but they don’t look like crooks, do they? surely if they wanted this bike they would just take it, and anyway its knackered in a country with no parts, get a grip Dave, to be honest I have just about had it, with the constant bike issues but clearly Irene means a lot to me, I want my bike home….

Out we go, through the city, past the airport, into some tired looking industrial area until we get to a old warehouse, where is the KTM dealership, shit its like out of a movie scene, what am I doing. we move the bike into the rundown warehouse, as I look around its clear this is a truck distribution centre, they have taken the bike straight to the shipping agent, the bike comes out of the van, I say wait guys, first we must empty the fuel, there are 25 litres in there, the driver  shrugs and says “no problem, no problem, its OK”,  shipping a bike thousands of Kilometres to Germany full of fuel, this does not feel right!we wheel  the bike along the loading platform and inside, further in the dark there are some KTM crates stacked up against the wall, they have tools and a power ratchet, the bike quickly moved on a base and once strapped into place they start building the create around Irene!! I am and its amazing how quickly the bike is secured on the base and the wooden sides bolted into place…..…..I have one last look as the lid goes on, and put a little message on the crate…safe travels Irene…….fucking emotional man.

And that’s it seems, are you kidding what about payment, what about paperwork, this feels ferkin dodgy, why have I been so stupid I think, the guy makes a phone call to Slava.

Come to the shop tomorrow with an inventory, I am told, I am dropped off at a taxi stand and they are gone….I stand there alone, fek what have I done!

That evening over a beer I put together the Inventory, I should be happy but due to language it feels dodgy as anything, I really wonder if I will ever see my bike again!

I start looking at flights, nothing direct from out here, I can save money by going 100km out of town and getting a cheap flight back to Europe but enough is enough pay a little more, and fly from Tbilisi, I see a LOT airlines flight back to Heathrow via Poland… only a few seats left apparently. Fuck it I hit the buy button, its Wednesday and I have booked a flight on Friday morning flight at 05:55 in the morning. Its so so exciting I cant tell you but also scary at the same time…..

Scary why, well because I am going back to my old life after over six months and also because now I have to get Irene sorted tomorrow, with a back up day on Thursday.

Pressure is on fletch, time to man up!!!

KTM Georgia at last

I am up early, no time for Breakfast darn it, I catch the taxi at 8:30, fek its a rough old Mercedes, sat in the back, the knackered prop shaft groaning below my bum, we slip through town and 20Km later we are at KTM Georgia. 

“In the taxi heading to you” I have told Slava by text but the shop is locked, classic Asia, anyway there is plenty to keep me occupied  and at 9.45 the bike mechanic shows up with the van that had taken my bike away, I walk in with him and he beckons me to follow him…there only an ferkin unmarked admin office up the road and I am greeted by a admin lady has been also been waiting for me, we fill out forms for export and I get copies, they take my original V5 and copies of my entry stamp and passport page, seems very thorough. 

Then in her car its around to the bank for some right old fannying around to pay in cash, first I get hit with a GBP to Dollar exchange then from Dollar to Georgan Lari, it not a huge amount, why we cant use a credit card is beyond me, I pay up, to be honest I have had enough now, the riding is over, I want to nail this flippin exit plan.….I get a whole bunch of receipts and its done, we have some pictures taken (makes me feel better that they are legitimate) they call me a taxi and I am back at the Hostel for a beer and lunch by noon….

Time to pack

So all the stuff I am taking with me is hidden under my bunk bed in this shared room, as far away and out of sight of the nutter (harsh) as possible, its clear that I need to do something different with the luggage if I am going to be inside the 23Kg limit, I head off the market a few miles away, as I walk I see a case dumped by where a rough sleeper was living, I was tempted to borrow it but before I got close it smelt rank….…..the market is huge, and what a cool experience…….live fish for sale and they are huge…..….a guy sharpens scissors on an open grinding wheel…..…….the air full of spices and smells of fresh flowers and vegetables…but I need a cheap bag and My search continues….…..eventually I buy a large roof storage bag for 10 Lari,  its not strong enough on it own but with some cling I find in another market stall.

I have a plan Simon Chegwin style, Simon always packs using cardboard boxes to contain his stuff then discards this when he arrives at the airport at the other end. Mine is a variation on this theme.

Back at the hostel excited I place my stuff using the new bag and with scales from the hostel it looks spot on, I have time tomorrow to play around with this properly and then an early night before  hopefully heading for my flight.

Nice shower, trim beard (within rules) and wash my going home outfit, its not much, not much has survived, I am down to my last pair of pants now, my final backup pair binned a disgrace.

I go for something to eat and leave stuff drying in my room, hanging off my bunk bed, darn I forgot its Halloween here tonight, its heaving in the Fabrika, the hostel decorated and everyone has made an effort and its flippin load, the music is good when the base drops good god is that blood is coming from my ears… 

Next day I am awake, the dormitory room is full again, some people too hammered from Halloween to make it home have checked in and are trying to sleep it off, its 9am and I am the only one that is awake.

So one of the issues with Hostel life is disturbing others, or rather trying not too. I am out of bed and showered but when I return they are still sleeping and that scrunchy bag is going to make one hell of noise. I leave it another 30 minutes as long as I can but this needs to be done so at 10:00 I attack the bags….quietly.

2 hours latter I am just about  done, the airline give an overall width, height, length measurement, try as might the luggage is a bit over on size but looking good on weight, the shape and appearance of my luggage is bizarre to say the least, almost looks like a small body with no arms and legs wrapped in cling film, and weights about the same, I make some handles and use the spare cling film to hold them in place……there finished.I give Slava a call, is everything in order, do you need me for anything else, is all the paperwork good? I get an unconvincing “yes no problem, you go”The rest of the day disappears later I move my big body shaped bag downstairs and is stored in reception that way I can leave the room without too much commotion, after a beer and some food I try to get an early night as I plan to leave at midnight. That does not work so well, I have visions of waking up at 9am having missed the flight, cant relax, still I get a few hours and wake up at 11:30, luckily only one other guy is in the room at this time so I don’t disturb too many people.

And we are off

A taxi is called and arrives at 1am, I look around the Fabrika for the last time, chuck my body bag luggage in the taxi and we are off, getting one last look around the deserted streets as we head out of the city, so much of this country I have missed!

The airport looms in front of me, I pay the taxi driver and struggle inside, one bags at a time then the body, there is a shortage of trolleys and I cant leave my sorry collection to go in search of one, a kind shop keeper see my situation and helps, leaves her shop unattended and heads off, returning some 5 minutes later with one for me…I thank her and buy a souvenir from her shop as a thank you…

I head further in, the Airport is small and scruffy, looks tired, faded…..I am too early to drop my bags off so go in search of a cafe to use up my remaining currency, result there is a cafe that is open in the corner, I find a good spot with a power socket, I have a base.

Next to me there are some, smart Arab ladies, I note the expensive clothes and jewellery as they talk intently.  I check out the menu and order some food and a coffee, the food arrives a little too quickly but its OK I guess for airport food.

I had heard a rumour that a Saudi Prince has invested in the city, built a huge glass tower block…..yep that one……the story goes that one of the conditions for this investment was a visa waiver for Saudi citizens, not sure how true this is but it would certainly account for all the Saudi reviewers talking about Tbilisi on trip advisor..

Anyway after about 30 minutes the very animated Arab ladies disappear, looks like they are off my turn soon, thinking ahead I start going through my pockets, clearing out all the junk before I go through security, and its quite a pile of assorted crap that has accumulated in the last few months, snot rags, a spoon I have picked up from somewhere, grubby ear plugs, wrappers from chocolate bars, all sorts. there is nowhere to put the rubbish, not a bin in sight, I have my tablet out no room here, so I think to myself well put your rubbish in the vacated table and when they clear that they can pick up all my crap…I shove old receipts into the empty shot glasses and return to my table.   

As I sit there waiting for my gate to be shown oh no…the Arab ladies return, they sit down and talk for a few moments before they focus on my not so little pile of rubbish and then it all kicks off, they get very animated, first they ask for a manager, there are waitresses buzzing around then the manager arrives, arms wave as they explain this outrage and then point to the offending pile of junk, Geez this is being blown out of all proportion I think, and is escalating fast, I start to watch a movie, not really watching of course, cant even remember what it was, but avoiding eye contact and keeping an eye on things OMG their table is surrounded now, free drinks are offered, replacement meals, these are refused they want blood I think, who are these people, airport security arrive and moments later the proper Police wheel up on Segway’s ferkin armed police balancing as they are told of this shocking international incident of discarded rubbish, the women will not let this go, my waitress approaches me, “did you put any trash on that table” she asks pointing it their direction..now I am a great believer in the truth, being honest, facing up to things…..you know like a man, before answering I weigh up the situation, not wanting to miss my flight, worried about a potential deportation to Saudi Arabia to stand trial for this heinous crime. I slowly look up from the movie I am NOT watching and say “err what, sorry I don’t understand, junk what junk! she looks at me knowingly I am sure…..As she returns to the commotion I decide its time to slid away as more airport reinforcement arrive, before I get any more attention……spineless coward eh!…..from a safe distance I see the women are still going for it as the baggage desk opens, lets get out of here before someone is bright enough to realise there was a CCTV camera above us, that the receipts stuffed in the shot glasses have my name on them, lets go, I head off across the baggage hall half expecting a hand on my shoulder at any second, but nothing happens and I make it to the bag drop, there is a queue of sorts and my bag is accepted without issue, an impressive 23.1Kg, the cheap hostel scales amazingly accurate, lets hope its odd shape does not get stuck in the baggage shoots!

With my pre emptied pockets I zoom through security, I am wearing my heavy motorcycle boots, these Sidi boots are super comfortable but a little smelly, still I am through and have just 30 minutes to wait before boarding,then the announcement comes and we are called to board, I climb the steps to the plane, now I will say that I am impressed with LOT airlines, nice new planes, and I can hear Polish, can understand a few words, its nice…still not going to get excited yet, still bemused by the Arab incident, maybe it because I have spent so much time on my own, paranoia has set in a little, surely something will go wrong, half expecting the Segway policemen so appear speeding across the tarmac at any second, my passport is inspected I feel like an escaping prisoner, keep calm, keep calm my son.

Wow everything is on time, engines start we push back and taxi up the runway..turn, engines roar, we gather speed and we are up climbing steeply, I am by the window and I silently punch the air, I have escaped now I can get excited, now I am going home…….I sit back wondering if I will ever see Irene again.

…..we arrive in Warsaw airport without incident, I need to change here for Heathrow, no drama, the bags are checked through as I am with the same airline.…….and wow how good the airport looks, I look at my surroundings in wonder, everything seems perfect, clean, modern, orderly and upmarket, people reading books in expensive looking cafes, orderly polite queues waiting to board their flight, the smell of expensive coffee….I look around like I am seeing Europe for the first time, there is a buzz and I cant stop smiling, goodness knows what those around me were thinking as I smile serenely, I want to experience the cafe, spend some money but there is no time….my London flight and Heathrow beckons.

Its a bright autumn day and the sky is clear, I am in seat D an isle seat, another new plane more familiar words from the Polish crew, we are soon in UK airspace, as luck would have it the wind direction is westerly so we descend directly into Heathrow over the city of London, I am straining from my isle seat, the Thames barrier comes into view, the London eye, Shard, Houses of Parliament so cool so see I cant get enough. I can tell the guy in the window seat is irritated, looking at me up and down looking at my beard with its seven months of growth, my rough hands but I don’t care I strain wide eyed trying to taker in all the familiar sites, London looks so so cool in the autumn sun….….we land, disembark, my phone pings with a flood of messages and I head for immigration. This border is a breeze, I deliberately queue rather than use the automated system, welcome home says the immigration officer so cool to hear English all around me I so want to give her a kiss, steady Dave you are almost back that would not end well:-) but I feel a genuine love for my country with all its faults I love it!

My plan is to catch the National Express coach back to Bristol, but first my luggage, I wait at the carousel and our luggage starts being launched onto the circular belt, it takes a while but then out pops my cling filmed body bag, cant miss that one. my home made handles are broken, not surprising with the weight, I find a trolley and locate the exit…….we are off……

The bus station is easy to find, there is a Bristol bus waiting but I have booked one for an hours time, my ticket not flexible, I am not bothered, not in a rush, just sit there in the sunshine and people watch behind my sunglasses.  

Before long I am on the coach heading down the M4, I cant sleep not wanting to miss anything, modern vehicles all clean and well maintained, all have front bumpers and not a cow in sight, we all make our way in an orderly procession west. OK later on I will I am sure complain at poor driving but for now and compared where i have come from this has the regimented order of a factory production line and it makes me smile……

I am being picked up by my sons Christopher and Dominic, I keep them updated as we progress West, Slough, Reading, Swindon, getting close now boys…for me the excitement is building, with the marvels of modern communications we have spoken regularly for free on WhatsApp but this is different this is real and physical.

The Coach leaves the M4 and heads south on the short route south on the M32 into Bristol. I know I am biased but I love this route into the City, quite unique to be in parkland until the last two miles before the city centre and even then you can still see the rolling hills of the Mendips in the distance….beautiful.

We arrive at the Bristol Bus station, its OK but not the greatest welcome to a grand city, there is of course no parking but the lads are waiting around the back for me.

I have my body bag and rucksack, I can just about manage both if I carry the bodybag on my shoulder like a returning sailor. I turn the corner and there they are, tailgate open on a borrowed land rover, I stash the luggage and in the middle of the street have a massive three way hug, its slightly extended, people watching but we don’t care, a few tears, very emotional, great to be home.

The house is empty, and it seems wrong for me to just head home. We head back to Frampton but to the Rising Sun, a classic old school pub, two hundred years old, small with low ceilings, we sit at the bar and I have my first proper pint in 7 months. does it get any better than this, strangely I  feel like I am in a dream, that i will wake up and be back in the Mongolian Steppe , but no this is real, I recognise a few local faces,  sat in their usual seats like I have never been away, the beer tastes great, I am surrounded by lively Bristol banter, fek it is good to be home…..

The adventure over or paused?

I check the Motorcycle tracker, Irene has not moved an inch!!!!