Author: rr_admin

We climb into Uncle Joe and head south again.

No sooner do we come across the long queue of Russia-bound trucks does a herd of sheep cross the road.

The road back to Mtskheta goes through multicoloured mountains that remind us of Iceland.

We mentioned passing by a Soviet-era monument to Russia-Georgia friendship. We stop here for a break.

Traffic through some of the tunnels is squeaky tight.

We drive through the plain that lies between the Greater Caucasus and Lesser Caucasus ranges to the town of Gori, Joseph Stalin’s birthplace.

Our guesthouse is on a nice quiet street. There are grapes growing in front of every house, children playing, neighbours gossiping.

The main attraction in Gori is the Stalin Museum. Because Stalin is a local boy who made good (or at least gained prominence), it has little bad to say about the man

On the grounds is Stalin’s personal railcar. Stalin didn’t like to fly. He attended the Tehran Conference, the Yalta Conference, and the Potsdam Conference in this car.

Gori is an attractive mid-size town. There are no shops geared towards tourists. Lots of second-hand clothing stores.

We celebrate my birthday with a fine Georgian saperavi.

I get everything I ask for. A T-shirt from the Stalin Museum gift shop. And a carpet.

Sight or Insight of the Day

Stalin’s statue gets two thumbs down from Maria.

I think it’s ironic that the statue of this man directly responsible for the death of millions stands unmolested while poor old Sir John A. Macdonald’s likeness is vandalized and toppled for his misguided Victorian notions by frenzied screaming mobs with complete impunity.

As Margaret Thatcher said when she was booted from office, it’s a funny old world.

We rent a car for the next eighteen days. A Toyota Prius. It’s great on gas.

Of course, driving here has its challenges. Like three quarters of the world, Georgians drive like crazed maniacs. Not to mention the hazard of animals roaming the road.

We take the Georgian Military Highway up to Stepantsminda.

Stepantsminda is dominated by Mt. Kazbegi, This is the view from our balcony.

That’s our balcony in the middle.

A more dramatic zoomed-in shot of Mt. Kasbegi. Gergeti Trinity Church sits in the foreground.

We go for a stroll through town.

Next day, we hike into the Truso Valley, about twenty kilometres away.

Semi-abandoned villages are everywhere.

We begin walking at Kvemo Okrokana village, after driving a few kilometres down a shitty road from the highway.

I recently read Independent People, by Halldór Laxness. It’s about the hard life of peasants in early 20th-century Iceland. A large part of the book takes place in their ‘croft’, a turf-covered shack with a single tiny window and farm animals living in the bottom part.

This structure looks similar. Strange that peasant societies thousands of kilometres apart would share the same sort of habitation.

A bee and a butterfly share a thistle flower.

The walk starts out high above the river.

You can see snowy peaks in the distance.

Every now and then we come across decorative grave markers.

We stay hydrated.

We arrive at the mostly-abandoned village of Kitrisi.

We’re not sure exactly why so many of these villages are abandoned. Information can be hard to come by in Georgia.

A convent lies further down the valley.

The convent has solid-looking buildings, in comparison to the ruins elsewhere in the valley.

These nuns have several streams of income. They run a cafe and a guest house.

The turnaround point is the Zakagori fortress. Beyond this is the breakaway Republic of South Ossetia.

On the way, I can’t resist petting this very tame, very pregnant donkey.

Maria hams it up on the way to the Zakagori fortress.

We have a picnic lunch up here.

On the return trip, we stop for a cup of tea in a rustic establishment.

The tea is from Azerbaijan.

A view of the proprietor’s house across the way.

By late afternoon, we approach the place where we left the car. The changed light gives the valley a whole new aspect.

Then it’s back to Stepantsminda.

Sight or Insight of the Day

A sign of the times: about 15 KMs from the Russian border, the road is lined for several kilometres with heavy trucks stranded by sanctions against Russia.

CORRECTION: We learn that these trucks aren’t being turned back because of sanctions; in fact, there are thousands of trucks on their way to Russia with goods from all over in spite of sanctions. So many that there’s no room at the border crossing. Drivers have to camp for days at the side of the road.

Which also explains why so many of these trucks are from Turkey. Turkey is in dire need of US dollars to fund Mr. Erdogan’s bizarre economic plan (it’s a long story) and has lots of stuff to sell. Russia has lots of US dollars (thanks to the sale of oceans of oil) and wants to buy lots of stuff. Voila!

We finally depart Tblisi for the city of Mtskheta. We take the train. It’s only about 25 minutes away.

The Russian-made locomotive looks like an Indian bus – as if it’s been rolled down a mountainside and returned to service.

We arrive at the decaying, almost-not-there train station of Mtskheta and hail a cab into town.

Our guest house is a stone’s throw from the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. We are greeted with a cup of Turkish coffee and grapes plucked straight from the arbour overhead.

The hosts have a very large, very friendly dog.

This is one of the largest churches in Georgia.

Inside, it’s full of chanting priests, singing women, and soft light.

Behind a gold door is some kind of sanctuary.

The other main attraction in town is the Jvari monastery.

It sits high atop a hill overlooking the confluence of the Mtkvari and Aragvi rivers.

Back in town, Maria samples wine ice cream.

We also visit the Samtavro St. Nino Convent.

The nuns work in the shop, selling religious regalia.

Sight or Insight of the Day

Bread is a staple in Georgia. There are several kinds. It’s cheap and filling. People here consume Olympian quantities of the stuff.

Maria loves it. The primacy of our friend Mike’s homemade bread in Maria’s rankings is under severe threat by this Georgian product.

We end up spending a week in Tblisi. We visit a few markets, including the desertirebis bazari (deserter’s bazaar) food market.

We look for hidden treasure at the Dry Bridge flea market.

Tblisi is known for its sulphur baths. Maria hopes to take the plunge one rainy afternoon, if one comes along.

While crossing the Peace Bridge we come across a wedding photo session. Note the dog in a state of complete relaxation in the foreground.

For dinner, Maria chows down on Shkmeruli, which is chicken in a garlic/milk sauce. Mmmm.

Sight or Insight of the Day

People in Georgia strongly support Ukraine in its struggles in Putin’s War. There are Ukrainian colours everywhere. Sometimes the message is very obvious, as in the seat cushions of this restaurant.

Sometimes subtly incorporated into everyday items, like this ad in the Metro for a local snack food.

Sometimes not so subtly, as in the message on this receipt from a pharmacy. (Georgia experienced its own ‘special military operation’ in 2008.)

And sometimes in undisguised loathing. This sticker is on an ATM and the message is clear.

All this takes a certain amount of guts. The Russian border is less than 200 KMs from where we sit. Vladimir Putin could wake up any morning and decide to complete the liberation of Georgia. A simple case of chafing hemorrhoids could push him over the edge.

We arrive in Tbilisi after flying via Montreal and Paris.

For our first few days, we check into the Fabrika. It’s a hostel, but also has private rooms.

The Fabrika is in an old Soviet-era clothing factory.

The graffiti on this building is deliberate. But just about every available surface in Tblisi is covered with graffiti. Seems to be a general Euro affliction to deface all of your elegant old buildings with spray paint.

It’s very lively at night.

We spend the first few days gently coming down from jet lag. We visit some museums and sightsee at our leisure.

As in most cities that have a Metro, in Tblisi the underground is the best way to get around.

Built in the Soviet days, it’s a bit shabby but does the job well. And it’s cheap. Hey, compared to the O-train, it’s a model of convenience and efficiency.

The Old Town is the oldest part of Tblisi. It’s full of winding alleys and quaint houses in various states of either full restoration or complete decay.

Tblisi is full of small hole-in-the-wall shops selling fruit, vegetables, and everything else. (SPAR mini-marts are sprouting everywhere like mushrooms, however. No doubt these tiny shops are doomed.)

Maria purchases a churchkhela. They look like candles, but they’re walnuts dipped in syrup made from grape juice.

Lots of sidewalk vendors as well.

There are beggars on the street, too. Probably fewer than in downtown Ottawa, though.

This is the Anchiskhati Basilica, the oldest church in Tblisi. Like, 6th-century-AD old.

We cross the Peace Bridge over the Mtkvari river.

The Mtkvari is the main artery of Tblisi.

It’s also difficult to pronounce.

Here’s a view from the Narikala Fortress.

Some typical Georgian food. The pastry with the cheese and egg in it is an adjaruli khachapuri. The dumpling thingies are called khinkali. The soup is a concoction of beef, vegetables, and garlic. All washed down with a glass of tasty Georgian white.

Sight or Insight of the Day

Tblisi is typically third-worldy in the great number of stray animals in the streets. But there seems to be a campaign to collect strays, spay/neuter them, treat any medical conditions, then release them with a plastic tag in their ear.

They’re very friendly. I don’t think anyone mistreats them, unlike other places where strays are starving, diseased, and despised.

I can’t understand why the authorities don’t encourage individual people to actually adopt individual dogs. They’re extremely good natured (the dogs, that is.) However unthreatened they may be, road traffic is always a hazard.

If we lived here, I’m sure we’d have a houseful of mutts.

OK, enough is enough. It’s time to get back out on the road.

We leave today for the Republic of Georgia. Why Georgia, you ask? Why not? You have to start somewhere.

Originally, we planned to describe in brief how the last two-years-plus has gone. Like most people, we’ve been stuck at home. Of course, first we had to find a home.

Which we did. We are now condo-dwellers. So we won’t be quite as footloose as before.

Maria has become a pickleball enthusiast. I’ve been reading lots of books. Mostly old stuff.

As for recapping noteworthy goings-on, we just haven’t been doing that much. We weren’t even thinking of going anywhere until very recently.

Travel-wise, we went on several canoe trips with friends. And dipped our toes in international travel by visiting Old Orchard Beach, Maine, at the invitation of our friend John.

So this is a short entry in aid of re-learning how compose a blog page, basically.

Sight or Insight of the Day (Year?)

Probably the event that stands out in the recent past is our encounter with a fawn.

It’s a long story. While at the cottage, we came across a baby deer that had lost its mother. We took it to a wildlife rehabilitation centre an hour’s drive away. The fawn stayed in Maria’s lap most of the way.

So long, Ottawa. Tbilisi, here we come.

…or is it? An epilogue is defined as: “a section or speech at the end of a book or play that serves as a comment on or a conclusion to what has happened.“

We can’t believe it’s been four months since our return to Canada. After our two-week quarantine was over, we headed for our cottage, 114 kilometres west of Ottawa.

It’s cold in early April. Besides electric heaters in the bedrooms, the wood stove provides warmth.

It snows several times while we’re up here.

(Just to demonstrate how the weather has changed, we have recently gone through as heatwave. Temperatures were over 40 degrees Celsius.)

It doesn’t really feel as if we’ve been home for four months. We scarcely see people, we seldom go out except to the nearby town of Perth for shopping and laundry. If the idea is to avoid contact, we’re certainly doing our part.

In the early days, we have friends over for dinner. Physical distancing is observed.

We eat well here. And it’s not only BBQs.

So we live day-to-day in a sort of middle existence: our travels almost seem like a dream now, as if we never left. But the fact of COVID 19-prompted isolation means that we don’t really feel as if we’ve returned.

It seems unlikely – or at least impossible to predict – that in the near future, it’ll be feasible to roam if you want to.

We are resigned to staying in the country. In a concession to domesticity, we buy a car. (We borrowed one for our first few months here.)

We suppose the next step is finding a permanent place to live.

All in all, we are fortunate to have this place to shelter in.

The days slip by in a slow routine. It’s very relaxing.

There are worse places we could be.

Sight or Insight of the Day

On July 1st, we spend our first Canada Day in Canada for three years.

Our last Canada Day was spent in Bhutan. Was that really a whole year ago? Back then, we would never have imagined that we’d be home at this time.

That’s right. As we create this entry, we are sitting high in a hotel suite overlooking downtown Ottawa, spending two weeks in self-isolation. It’s a long way from the African savanna. Anyway, to take up where we left off…

In Senyati Safari Camp, we enjoy a covered bathroom/living space that comes with our campsite.

We never get tired of watching the elephants at the watering hole.

We can’t take our South African rental car into Zimbabwe. So we arrange a land transfer to Victoria Falls (in Zimbabwe) and rent another car for two weeks, leaving our car at Senyati.

Zimbabwe is undergoing several crises at once (before even taking covid-19 into consideration.) Their economy is in dire straits, as usual. This is the result – as it always is – of bending over backwards and using smoke and mirrors and a labyrinth of bizarre regulations to maintain the illusion that an utterly worthless currency is actually worth anything.

Our first night is spent in Hwange National Park. On our way back to the main road, we stop at he Painted Dog Conservation Centre. (‘Painted dogs’ are what they call ‘wild dogs’ in Zimbabwe.)

It’s extremely professional and dedicated. (Most of the staff we meet are women.) Turns out we were phenomenally lucky to have seen those wild dogs in Moremi.

Besides hosting rescued painted dogs for recovery, rehabilitation, and release, they lead educational programs for youth.

We carry on to Bulawayo, Zimbabwe’s second biggest city.

We go to Matobo National Park. Besides containing the grave of arch-colonialist Cecil John Rhodes, the park is known for its rock formations.

These formations are called ‘kopjes’ (sounds like ‘copies’). They’re found in many places in Africa.

Cave paintings are relics of the San people, the original inhabitants of the southern part of the African continent since, well, forever. (Black Bantu people are relative newcomers. White people even more so.)

Here’s a hunting scene.

This is recognizably a giraffe.

And this is a rhino.

We stay at the Farmhouse Lodge. Not at the lodge itself, but in their campground, a few kilometres away. We have the place entirely to ourselves.

Next stop is the Zimbabwe Ruins. (A running joke since independence is that the misrule of the Mugabe regime has turned the entire country into the ‘Zimbabwe Ruins’.)

It’s a tight squeeze on the trail up to the ‘hill complex’.

View from the hill complex down to the ‘great enclosure’.

A few more views of Great Zimbabwe.

Another crisis in Zimbabwe is a shortage of fuel. We are fortunate enough to have leftover US dollars from our trip to Iran: petrol stations that charge in US dollars are few and far between, but you can fill up immediately.

Stations that charge in local currency, however, have massive lines of cars that wait hours for their turn…

…and of course, many stations have run completely out of fuel.

In the Eastern Highlands, we spend a few days in Chimanimani.

This little girl carries her doll in a blanket on her back, just like mom.

We hike to the Bridal Veil Falls.

We really like our accommodation in Chimanimani. Dee and Jane, our hosts, have two friendly dogs (and a friendly cat) that keep us company.

This one is Rocky.

And this one is Carny. He’s completely blind. Always has been. We’re impressed by the way he gets around the property.

After spending a few days in Harare, our plan is to visit Mana Pools National Park, then take the Kariba Ferry as a shortcut (via Lake Kariba) back to the western part of the country.

As it turns out, Mana Pools is only accessible for 4WD vehicles. And the Kariba ferry is cancelled due to a lack of paying customers. As an alternative, we visit the little-visited Mavhuradonha Wilderness, tucked up against the Mozambique border.

Then we begin our mad dash for Johannesburg – it’s a full day’s drive to Bulawayo and another to Victoria Falls.

In Vic Falls, we stop for a glass of wine at the Victoria Falls Hotel.

It’s a wonderful old pile of colonial decadence.

The falls themselves are pretty cool.

We get thoroughly soaked walking the path that faces the falls.

This is our last act of overt tourism before we make a beeline for Johannesburg in an attempt to beat the national border lockdowns that are nipping at our heels.

Sight or Insight of the Day – What a Long, Strange Trip It’s Been

Beware of black swan events!

We wind up traveling from the northeast corner of Zimbabwe all the way back to Canada with breathtaking speed.

• Beginning at dawn in Mavhurdonha, we drive to Bulawayo – virtually the length of the country.
• We plan to spend a few more nights in Hwange National Park, but decide to head straight to Victoria Falls instead.
• We drop off our Zimbabwe rental car and get an overland transfer back to Botswana.
• After a night in Senyati Lodge, we drive to Francistown, Botswana.
• Next day, we cross the border into South Africa and drive to Johannesburg.
• That very night, we decide we’d better try and catch a flight back to Canada ASAP. We manage to find one the next day (in theory).
• We arrive at the airport. While waiting to check in, we are told by Turkish Airways that the Istanbul-Canada leg of our flight ‘is cancelled’.
• My sister manages to book us on a flight that day: Johannesburg – Amsterdam – Paris – Montreal.
• Next evening, we arrive in Montreal, where we are met by my sister and brother-in-law in two cars.
• We overnight near the airport and drive to Ottawa the next morning.
• We check into a very comfortable high-rise apartment-hotel for our obligatory two-week quarantine.

Now we stare at each other in disbelief – just a few days ago, weren’t we sitting in our shorts & T-shirts having a barbecue, marveling at the sky full of stars while a family of elephants pass silently in the dark three metres away? Today we’re looking out over downtown Ottawa at the ass-end of a Canadian winter.

So our random rambles may now be over. We don’t know what the near future brings. But neither does anyone else. Happy ramblin’, everyone. Stay safe. We’ll see you on the other side of this thing.

And remember: Life is a Highway.

From Maun, we drive to the area of the Makgadikgadi Pan.

We pitch our tent at Planet Baobab. The covered tent sites are a bonus.

Name checks out: there are majestic baobabs throughout the property.

We arrange a dawn safari to visit a meerkat colony.

Along the way, we see hundreds – maybe thousands – of zebras. Apparently, this migration is the second-largest one in the world.

Zebras can run surprisingly fast.

Breakfast is eaten after sunup. It’s cool in the early morning here.

A golden orb web spider hitches a ride.

We are told that meerkats prefer to stay in their burrows when the weather is this cool. So we’re lucky to find a group of hardy ones that are out and about.

We are amazed how close you can get to them.

The Makgadikgadi Pan, according to Wikipedia, is one of the largest salt flats in the world.

On the way back, we stop in a wee settlement and buy some marula nuts.

The strong wind moves the tall grass in a hypnotic ballet.

We pass through Gweta village on our way back to Planet Baobab.

It’s a long, flat drive to Chobe National Park.

We go on a safari in Chobe.

The Chobe River divides Botswana from Namibia and gives the park its name.

A lion appears in the road. (About 30 seconds after I say ‘Now we’ll probably see a lion’ when our guide gets out to fix a loose battery terminal in our non-starting safari vehicle.)

He is very casual as he saunters down the road. We follow him for ten minutes or so.

He stops to watch some young hippos play-fighting by the river.

Another safari vehicle joins in stalking the big guy.

He decides if it’s worth his while to try for an impala.

He doesn’t even spare a glance as he marches along, metres away from us.

The lion eventually tires of our company and heads off into the bush.

Elsewhere in the park, we come across a flock of marabou storks.

Marabout storks are counted among the ‘Ugly Five‘.

We stay at the Senyati Safari Camp, not far from Chobe. On the drive to nearby Kasane to do some shopping, elephants crossing the road are a common sight.

Senyati has a waterhole in front of the lodge that attracts all kinds of animals, especially elephants.

They also have a cool ‘photography bunker’. You go through a short tunnel and get a waterhole-side view.

It’s a nice way to end the day. Especially because Botswana has dozens of lodges where the guests pay 500-plus US$ per day (and per person!) to enjoy something similar.

We, on the other hand, pay 20 US$ per day to camp. (Of course, in this unfenced camp, you might get squashed by an elephant in your tent. Or visited by hyenas or leopards in the night.)

Sight or Insight of the Day

On the way to Chobe, we spot an incongruous trailer from England.

We later find at the Botswana-Zimbabwe border scores of unlikely vehicles from the UK. It’s a bit of a mystery.

We see our last entry is dated February 29th – leap day! As is common in Africa, we go weeks at a time without finding decent WiFi.

Anyway – in Maun, we stay in a covered tent at the Okavango River Lodge.

A lively place, but our waterfront site is very relaxing.

We book a safari to the Moremi Game Reserve, departing at dawn. We are joined by Durk, who is days away from retirement from the Netherlands foreign service.

Our guide introduces himself as ‘Frog. Just call me Frog.’ OK.

An opportunistic horn-bill tries to panhandle some food while we have breakfast at the park gate.

An elephant enjoys his breakfast, too.

As do the zebras.

Giraffes, too.

A pack of wild dogs crosses the road. We follow them to a nearby waterhole.

There are four or five hyenas gnawing on the remains of a buffalo in the waterhole.

Our guide says he has never been this close to a pack of wild dogs – or seen so many at one time.

We confirm later – in Zimbabwe – that seeing a pack of wild dogs is indeed a rare encounter.

There is a tense standoff between the two groups.

We carry on. A troop of baboons doze in the road.

An unusual sight – a party of banded mongooses scamper by. They stop to cavort with the young baboons for several minutes.

A lot of what we see is flat grassland.

A crocodile the size of a Buick crosses our path.

Lunchtime. We have a picnic in a shady grove after Frog makes sure there aren’t any dangerous critters in the area.

After lunch, we pass a hippo pool.

Next day, we arrange a trip by mokoro through a part of the Okavango Delta.

Durk joins us for this excursion as well.

There are Monet-esque lily pads everywhere.

Those distance dark spots in the lake? They’re hippos, keeping an eye out so we don’t get too close.

Hippos kill around 500 people in Africa per year. Slightly different than the Disney hippos.

A marbled reed frog appears in the vegetation. Mystery solved: our guide shows us the business card for his guiding business: ‘Reed Frog Tours’.

An island makes a good spot for lunch.

After lunch, we go on a walking safari.

On the way back, the sun beats mercilessly on Durk’s bare head. His poler fashions a cap for him out of lily pads.

With the exception of the odd palm tree on the horizon, we could be paddling canoes through Algonquin Park.

Sight or Insight of the Day

On our walking safari, we come across the remains of a long-dead hippo. Probably killed in battle with another hippo.

Its remaining thick hunk of flesh looks like a giant pork rind.