Tag Georgia

Abandon the Cube has been around since 2008. While we’re not into celebrating a massive birthday party for the website or the concept, we’re excited about reaffirming our travel philosophy and taking stock of where we are, where we’re going and what we’ve seen.

By Ground Travel. By now you’ve all learned that we like to travel primarily by ground transport. Any flight across open land or water leaves the earth beneath you undiscovered, which we find goes against the spirit of how we enjoy experiencing the world’s most unexpected places. Over the past two years we’ve formed this website of travel tips, destination guides, humorous pictures, influential travelers who have inspired us and more so that we could share what we see and hopefully encourage other people to abandon their cubicles and see some of the world’s least trodden paths.

Time as the ONLY vital factor. To date we have inspired no one to quit their job. People look at us with raised eyebrows and wonder why any sane person would throw away security and comfort in exchange for several meals a day made out of rice. To us, time is the one thing that can really be stolen from you while you are on this planet. Nevertheless, people still think that if you work hard now by the time you are 45 you’ll be able to retire. In reality, who has ever retired at 45? The plan simply doesn’t work. Meanwhile, you throw away the best time in your life working, stressing and acquiring status, money, security, etc… but you can’t get that time back. Its a trade off and an unfair one in our opinions. I’m personally willing to work longer in life rather than abusing the time I have now. They say youth is wasted on the young, but I’m hoping they won’t say that about us. The reality of the situation is that society is designed to ensnare people. Right out of High School you have either college loans to pay, or else housing so you are independent. Now you have a car payment, insurance, health costs, food, your cell phone and internet….. even if you wanted to quit your job you can’t because you have bills coming in. That’s the way it is designed, and to an extent that’s why the machine of our economy works. However, if you take away all the things that require you to have a job then you no longer are in need of one. I do some writing for money here and there and make enough to cover my college loans. Outside of that, traveling full time costs us less than any apartment would, and we pay for that with money we saved while working in Shanghai for a year. We were able to save so much because we did not have a car, cell phones are pay-as-you-go rather than a 2-year-death-contract and we choose an apartment that was extremely affordable (if not minuscule). We figured out a way to Abandon our Cubicles and still meet our obligations, and that makes me confident that you could figure that out as well.

Experiences are Everything. I suppose it goes without saying that we weigh experiences very highly. We signed up for the 2010 Mongol Rally, as you know, because we saw the experience as an amazing opportunity to meet new people, have a great and daring adventure and travel 1/3 of the earth’s surface by land. Planning is still underway and we launch July 26th from London. Experiences and relationships are so important, and we hope to have an amazing adventure meeting amazing people on the Rally. Likewise, we’re excited about the new experiences coming our way after the Rally when we backpack through South East Asia and hopefully land in Thailand for a while as a place to kind of rest for a while, look for a part time job and save up so we can have more adventures down the road.

Reflections on an Amazing Year. Its is easy for us to say that 2009 was one of the best years of our lives. We left Shanghai on May 1st, 2009 and traveled by land all the way to Seattle, USA by December. In that half a year we saw and did so many amazing things that we’re likely to always look back on 2009 with a whimsical smile. From visiting Kashgar in summer, to driving across Uzbekistan with a giant; from standing near a burning crater in Turkmenistan, to living in a tent in Turkey during Ramadan; from roughing it in a cheap Bulgarian hostel, to riding a luxury cruise ship through the Virgin Islands. We nearly circumnavigated the globe (minus only the Pacific Ocean aspect of returning to Shanghai). That is why 2009 was a rich, and beautiful year. We’re hoping that the 2010 Mongol Rally that takes us from Seattle (where we are now) to Thailand via land and sea is as enriching, enchanting and captivating as the adventures of ’09.

Baku

After a lot of hard work, Lauren has released our next newsletter.  This issue covers the Azerbaijan, The Republic of Georgia, and Turkey.  I have put it up on several areas throughout our site.  It gives a nice overview our our trip through the area as well as some stories and selected pictures all wrapped up in a really awesome looking PDF file.  I have attached a the file for those of you interested.  Best Wishes for 2010!

Mike & Lauren

Abandon the Cube Caucasus and Turkey Newsletter <———- Click here to read!

Batumi Beach

After Bojormi National Park, Gori, Tbilisi, Kazbegi, Baku, and the Caspian Sea ferry, we were ready for a break. However, we were unaware that we would get such a great one. As our minibus emerged from the foliage and hilltops, we caught our first glimpses of the Black Sea. It was right here that Jason and the Argonauts landed in search of the Golden Fleece. Being a huge fan of the film from childhood, it was an awesome experience coming to the realization that the story was based on actual legend and places and that we were standing on the very ground that the story unfolded upon. My first impression of the Black Sea was that I quickly understood where the name came from. Black clouds were rolling over the hills surrounding the sea and gave the water a opaque dark color. The beach was very rocky and, my imagination running wild, I thought of the rough whitecaps throwing wooden ships onto the rocky shores.

After a few more hours, the bus pulled to a stop near a small port city. The bus driver turned around, enamored that we were from ‘America,’ gave me a head nod and said, “Batumi.” He then gave me a thumbs up and said, “Chicago Bulls.” I immediately got a west coast United States feeling from Batumi. It seemed like a laid-back beach community. We wandered through town with our cumbersome bags, receiving stairs of wonderment and distress. Many women would stop and stare at Lauren and look at her in distress over the big bag she was carrying on her back. I couldn’t help but feel like they then glared at me as if I was some kind of horrible creature to make her walk around carrying such a weight. We found an acceptable place to stay, albeit slightly musty, but we just figured that added to the coastline experience.

We walked down to the beach and, although still very rocky, we found it full of locals. We enjoyed two days and three nights in Batumi and kicked our feet up in the laid-back atmosphere. Lauren read her books, drank a few beers, and snacked in the sun and under umbrellas, while I spent half my time floating out by the buoy and the other half, running into town or the other side of the beach to replenish water and other beverages. I found out, days later, that my parents were worried about us being in flooding that was going on in Turkey. Little did they know that we were laying out on a beach drinking vodka tonics. It was a very enjoyable drive out to Batumi and the atmosphere was unlike anywhere else we had been, and was very different to anything else in Georgia. Batumi makes for an interesting entrance or departure into the Republic of Georgia, but definitely a must see in Georgia, as we saw Georgians in a new relaxed light we had never seen them in before.

Mike in the Creep Zone

Although not in any guidebook for the area, our hostel owners told us about a cave not far from town that we could get to only via a cab. We linked up with Emily and decided to try our luck negotiating a cab to the spot. When in town, we easily found an elderly man (in his 90s!) who agreed to take us in his equally ancient Lada car to the caves. We all piled in the death-trap of a car and rattled off into the hills.

Our friendly driver deposited us safely at the entrance to the cave, where a national park ranger who looked like the sneaky guy in Mr. Deeds told us to wait fifteen minutes. In my broken Russian I understood him to mean that an event happened every hour on the hour in the cave, and we sat about for fifteen minutes pondering what the event could be: feeding time for the bats, or an old faithful type explosion?

The event turned out to be a guided tour by the Mr. Deeds sneaky guy, who laughed at our ridiculous expressions when he unlocked a large metal door covering the cave entrance. Inside, he flicked a series of switches and the cave was semi-illuminated. We climbed down into the belly of the cave, and listened to the dripping as he explained that it took a century for the stalactites to grow one centimeter. In front of us were stalactites and stalagmites that ranged from inches long to over a meter. A group of Georgians joined our tour and translated for us along the way, instructing us to keep a wary eye out for some of the white bats that call the cave their home.

We inched ever deeper into the cave as the guide hopped around like an expert spelunker with night-vision capabilities. A hole in the cave a meter off the ground turned out to be a cave 30m into the belly of the beast, which our guide proudly said he had explored. “That’s where the spiders and worms live,” he said, as calmly as if telling us about his boring day.

We snapped pictures, letting the flashes of our cameras illuminate further into the cave than the eye could otherwise see. After what felt like forever (but turned out to be about ten minutes) we reached the largest of the stalactites, which our guide called “the heart” there was an opening and we were instructed to reach our arms into the opening and feel how soft and cool it was inside. I let everyone else go first, hoping the plethora of arms reaching into the heart would scare away any albino creatures inside. It was indeed squishy and wet inside the heart, and I held my hand into the abyss as long as possible before a tickling (or imagined tickle) made me jerk my arm out to the guide’s endless amusement.

Outside the cave again, and thankful for the light, we scampered up the hill to the driver and asked him to take us to some dinosaur footprints we had passed on the way in. These turned out to be two large limestone platforms with various sized giant-turkey footprints from ancient dinosaurs. We walked around atop the limestone like you’d never be allowed to do in the States, and took pictures of our hands inside the footprints, and our toes looking tiny inside the claw prints. After a while, the driver took us half way back to the city before jumping out of the car and running into an alley. He returned a while later with pomegranates fresh from a tree, and then we putted off down the hill into town again.

Reconstruction of Bagrati Cathedral - Kutaisi, Georgia

Kutaisi, Georgia offered us some much needed rest after city-hopping for the previous few days.  The minibus dropped us off at a random bus station, which was of course, not even on the Lonely Plant maps.  It would be so difficult traveling without that book, but it is a love-hate relationship as you read and look through it occasionally wondering why they wasted space and why they gave you worthless information when there was so much more to write about.  Lucky for us, the Caucasus have been so easy to travel around in.  After China and Central Asia, we were expecting mind numbing conversations as you walk from bus to bus asking to go to a certain city and then each person points in a different direction.  Azerbaijan and Georgia have been completely different.  Baku was simple to navigate and using public transportation was a cinch.  Georgia was a great breath of fresh air. Leaving Central Asia behind and entering into a new world of Judeo – Christian values, we found no endeavor to result in a headache.  People were friendly, curtious, helpful, and seemed to have ethics matching our own.  In the previous town of Gori, we talked with the owner of “The Man Bar” and he gave us our meal and beer on-the-house just for being American and talking to him and his friends.  This was the first time in all of my travels that being a foreigner actually resulted in a direct benefit within the culture.

Back in Kutaisi, we painlessly enlisted the help of a local taxi driver who drove way out of his way, after several roads were closed – up winding streets and hills to where we wanted to stay for the night.   We were greeted at the gate by a very friendly young girl who spoke fluent English. She took us through their beautiful compound home that was over 100 years old.   The two storey building didn’t look like much on the outside, but the interior was ornately decorated with a classic Russian feel. As we walked around the side of the home, which was probably once a sanitarium, we noticed grape vines hanging down around our heads.  The whole house was surrounded with a vineyard.  Around the back, a huge greenhouse took up most of their backyard. Inside were tomatoes, lime trees, and an assortment of other vegetables.  With the exception of meat, I would say that the family was practically self sufficient.

After meeting Emily, a young solo traveler from the U.K., we walked around the side streets and back alleys of hilltop Kutaisi.  Less than 1 km away, the Bagrati Cathedral – early 11th century – sits in ruin.   However, reconstruction was underway while we were there.  The cathedral was destroyed by the Turks in the early 17th century, it was still awe inspiring to stand underneath the now dome-less ceiling.   To the East of the cathedral are the ruins of a medieval palace, complete with wine cellars and a chapel, also gave great views of the city below.  The palace was destroyed by Russian artillery bombardment from the opposite bank of the river.  We returned and had dinner with Emily, and enjoying the comfort and company so much, stayed an additional 2 days.

Stalin's Head

Gori is a relatively small town nestled against a weak river with a small fortress resting on a hill in the center of town. Once the fortress served to protect the residents, now it is a minor attraction; the primary attraction in town is the Stalin Museum, built next to the remains of the home where Stalin’s mother and father lived with him for the first several years of his life.
We jumped off the bus from Tbilisi in downtown Gori, and went about finding a place to leave our bags so we could explore the town. Hotel costs were ridiculously high, but we knew of a home-stay that had bad reviews, but at least two beds available. We found the home-stay and dropped our belongings before searching for food.

We found one of the most amazing restaurants on the planet, I’m sure you’d agree. It was run by several men who also owned the place. Inside there were no decorations, just a bar with a marble counter-top and several tables you could stand around. The menu was only in Russian, but as one of the owners spoke a bit of English, he helped us order. “Plate of meat or plate of hotdog meat, or plate of cow meat.” We ordered plat of meat and were shocked when he slapped down a metal plate full of pork ribs, perfectly cooked. We gulped these down with our “plate of bread” which was a whole loaf of wheat bread. The only thing to drink on the menu was beer, and he made sure our cups were never empty. There were no women in the place, and all the town’s men had gathered for their ‘plate of meat’ and beer, and were happily bunched in groups all around the room chatting. Everyone was happy and introduced themselves, and the owner called an English-speaking friend on the phone to talk to us about Gori. When it came time to leave (after much beer and meat) they refused all payment attempts and invited us to climb to the church with them in the morning.

In the morning, needless to say, we were unfit to climb to a church of any sort. We pulled ourselves out of bed with so much effort and found that the home-stay was of disgusting quality, with damp beds and dirty walls—easily the worst place we’ve ever slept. We cleaned up and then climbed up the hill to the top of the fortress to look around. Gori is a small city, but a quaint one, and the view from atop the castle was well worth the early-morning hangover climb. We had a quick breakfast on Stalin Ave before heading to the Stalin museum. A group of four Marines from the USA were ready for an English-guided tour, so we tagged along. We were rushed from spot to spot, and all of us exchanged glances when she skipped a whole room called “collectivization.” It was a mixed-bag of history and lore, but some of the items from his personal collection were interesting, and the well-preserved home his parents raised him in has since been cased in marble outside the museum for all to see.

Having had enough of Stalin, we dropped by the “man bar” but our host from the night before was nowhere in sight. We waved at the patrons we recognized, and wondered if they ever left the restaurant at all. At the bus stop, we easily found the marshutka to Bjormi, and I fell asleep on the back bench of the van while a Georgian military kid in front of us played American music for our entertainment on his cell phone.

Mike at the Summit

In the morning we awoke to the sounds of people around us, and, paranoid that we should perhaps not be camping on church grounds, packed up our tent and decided to start hiking further up the mountain. There is a glacier about 900m up (but over 3k distance wise) the mountain, so we aimed for that. With the packs, the going was slow, but we made progress slowly as we watched the summit of this 2000m mountain loom closer.

Once at the top, there was an astonishing view of the glacier beyond, and of base camp one for mount Kazbeki assents. It was noon and we decided that without warmer clothing and clamp-ons for our boots we should not risk crossing a glacier to reach a frozen plateau where we could freeze to death in our tiny tent. We turned around and began the descent. However, midway down the mountain a grump of a cloud hovered over us and began to pour, we threw down our bags, and in less than a minute our tent was assembled with us dry inside. We waited out the storm on the edge of the mountain in this fashion, playing cribbage, making a small esbit fire for food and warming up in the sleeping bags. Two hikers (now soaked) climbed up and we emerged from our tent for a top-of-the-world get to know ya. They were photographers on a mission to photo raptor birds in the wild. We chatted a bit before breaking down the tent and continuing our descent.

We passed the church, and our campsite from the night before, and in the middle of the woods encountered a Frenchman on his way up named Julien. We chatted a bit before climbing down the rest of the mountain.

Back in town, we ate at the same café as the day before, and they advised us on camping in the park on the edge of town. We ordered food and a few beers and Julien showed up and joined us for dinner and told us about his amazing trip from France to basically all over. We had a few rounds of beers while Julien had a few rounds of French fries and then it got dark while we told travel stories. It was already late so we quickly headed into the park once the beers were empty and the mosquitoes emerged. In the park there was a stream bisecting the north and south parts. We crossed a log over the river by moonlight, and set up our tent on the northern bank.

In the morning, we packed up the tent and faced a river that, in daylight, looked impossible to cross with our bags. Somehow, in the moonlight, it had seemed safer. We managed to cross the rickety log without incident and then got lucky when we nabbed two seats on a bus back to Tbilisi. Although I was car-sick the entire time, it was a pleasant enough ride with a great group of people who were about as friendly as any group could be.

Hiking

Kazbegi is a mountain town nestled smack dab between South Ossetia and Chechynia, in northern Georgia. All around this peaceful and beautiful valley wars rage off and on while the serenity and peacefulness of this particular town and the surrounding mountains has been maintained for generations on end. Indeed, in times of turmoil in Tbilisi, artifacts would be rushed to this region for safe keeping from any invading force or political what-have-you.

I was hesitant to go north due to State Department warnings and because I read the news regularly and know that the border areas are about as stable as a three legged dog. But, after meeting several Georgians, travelers and even government workers who vacationed in the area, we felt assured, and packed a small bag to take with on our journey north.

The bus careened up a road in such disrepair that it does not deserve to be called a pathway at all. Our bus’ tires screeched along pebbles mere inches from drop-offs that would have decimated any vehicle unlucky enough to fall over the edge. They would have a hell of a time searching (and identifying) body parts should the bus tumble out of control. Rather than harp on the uncontrollable, I shut my eyes and woke up occasionally to the sounds of honking, squealing tires, and eventually, of the parking break.

Mike and Friend

Kazbegi was the classic cowboy town, with one main street through town (littered with cows on their way to greener pastures) and lined with tiny shops, cafes, and a few hostels. We bypassed all of these and found a café on the outskirts of town where we ordered a few beers and the only item in English on the menu: Plate of Meat.

After eating, we climbed the mountain behind the town to the church, which is where religious artifacts are kept in times of trouble. With heavy packs, the walk was grueling, but we made it fun with chatter and joking until we suddenly emerged from the woods to see the clouds breaking and light pouring over the tiny church as if God was peeling back the clouds for a look.

Strangely enough, when I entered the church a man approached me with a wrap-around skirt that he insisted I put over my jeans. Apparently the Orthodox church likes women to have their head covered and a skirt around their legs. After traveling through several Muslim countries, I was shocked that this was the most conservative religious experience yet: I was in long pants, hiking boots, a sweater, a head-scarf and now a wrap-around skirt. I looked ridiculous. I’ll never understand traditions like this, unless you grow up with it, it just comes across as odd.

We set up camp near the base of the church, and Mike made a small fire so we could cook some ramen noodles and tea (our camping staples) before watching the sunset and climbing into our sleeping bags and falling quickly asleep.

Our introduction to Georgia was astonishing. While the country itself is beautiful but developing, the people could not be any finer. When we arrived in Tbilisi on the night train from Baku, it was 10:00am and people were bustling about outside the train station selling socks, ping pong paddles and other strange items. We quickly converted some USD to lari, and headed off in the direction of a hostel recommended in a guide book.We arrived at said hostel, which was supposed to be a home-stay of sorts, to be met with a friendly but incredibly drunk woman in her 60s who was scantily clad and perhaps raving mad. We went down the street and found another hostel called the Green Stairs. While the rooms were shabby at best (it could reach a staggering 130 degrees at midday due to the greenhouse-like roof) the owner was so friendly that we ended up staying in Tbilisi longer than planned just to be around him.

Tbilisi itself is an incredible city, but one in disarray. Every beautiful building has seen better days, and cracked paint and splitting wood is the norm. The back alleys are safe, and we gave ourselves a tour of the city while searching for a café with wi-fi (such is the life of a modern traveler).

Having found an area with wi-fi we discovered we were in the tourist hub of the city, with fanny-packs and tinted visors galore. We toured around from church to church, admiring the craftsmanship and the devout followers. The interior of each is unique but similar, with pictures of decapitated saints and skull and bones under the cross (none of which made sense to us). We sat around the city like two people who had just run a marathon, and lazed about for several days in Tbilisi, taking it all in. We planned out route through the Republic of Georgia, and generally moved at a pace not unlike a snails.

Pretty Kitty

We only had a five day transit visa for Azerbaijan. It is a relatively small country and while we would have liked to stay longer than five days, the visa was 130$ for 30 days or $20 for five days, so we took the later and decided to see as much as we could in the time we could afford to buy.

We spent the morning walking around the city as we weaved our way to the train station to reserve tickets for the evening’s 10pm train to Tbilisi. When we arrived at the station we wondered from window to window asking about a train to Georgia’s capital. Every window-attendant just shrugged, mumbled in Russian, and pointed to another window. We literally made our way, one on each side, down the entire 24 window ticket buying area asking each person, all of whom was rude, and down-right mean. Finally, I started asking other travelers. Most were friendly enough, but said that they did not know how to buy a ticket either. Everyone looked frustrated, annoyed and disgusted with the ticket salespeople. Finally, as I was about to cry, two Azeri boys said they would help us. They stood there patiently with Mike and made sure he got a good ticket for a fair price and then even helped translate from Russian to English for us. Without those friendly boys we might still be wandering around the ticketing office from window to window like lost children.

We headed to the train station at 9:30 a bit depressed that we already had to leave. Our time with the American family in Baku was great, and as we waited for the train to leave we found we already missed the fun loving antics of their young child, who had kept us company over the past few days.

The train was supposed to take 15 hours, but as with everything in the Caucus we’d experience thus far, the time was much more. But, this turned out (as it usually does) to be a good thing. We met Famil on the train, the young man who had helped us purchase our tickets earlier that day. His bunk was only a few doors down from our sleeper train compartment, so he spent the evening drinking beers on the train with us and chatting. His English was phenomenal, and he told us how he spent time in Barcelona and Turkey, as well as in Georgia and his home country of Azerbaijan. He speaks several languages fluently and is learning Spanish. An older gentlemen calling himself Frank (for our benefit) was also in our compartment. He tried to communicate with us in Russian and charades, the latter of which was more effective. A friendly and talkative cabin-mate, this gentlemen was fun to travel with and kept us all entertained with his storied (some of which Famil translated for us).