Home-Made Jams

November 2024

My English friend Rich is an amazingly gifted guitarist and singer, with a warm and rich voice, a great vocal range, and a beautiful ear for harmony. Brad, my other English friend, is an ideal band frontman, energetic, uncannily unselfconscious, with an impeccable memory for lyrics, and a great singing voice that he uses way too little.

So, of course, during our little tour of Georgia, we jammed. We didn't jam enough, I might add, (as we only had my guitar), but it was super fun when we did.

After our particularly lubricated entry into the Black Sea-side city of Batumi (it was raining heavily), it was so nice to wake to a fine and mild day, and a temperature that was considerably warmer than it'd been in some places we'd recently visited in central Georgia, at higher altitudes, and away from any sea.

The morning view from our balcony. We could actually see something, unlike last night.

The Gold Coast-esque vibe of our district.

I do this stretch every morning a few times, before I roll off to breakfast.

Now this is more like it. We found an amazing Middle-Eastern food place run by a lovely Israeli man, Hani, who provided us with a huge array of incredibly delicious food and drinks, about half of which he didn't charge us for, simply because he was such a lovely guy. Hebrew, Arabic, Georgian, Russian and English script was painted all over his café, and it was frequented by loads of Arabic and Hebrew speaking diners. The food was to die for.

But not to kill for.

Then we went to the sea, but just skimmed past.

I really need to eat more. So does Rich. Our legs are too skinny, despite all this cycling.

Strange things. Brad told us he had special powers and could lift buildings just by looking at them. We didn't believe him, so he just did it right there in front of us.

We made him drop it. Must've been a real shock for the residents.

Georgian Leonard Cohen

Palm perming

Brad's impersonation of a happy dog.

Very relaxing beauty salon (if that's possible)

For people who've just separated

Hanging garden of Batumi

The cat is real

Straight out of the bladder

Sakartvelo is another name for Georgia

Cruisin' around the old town. One of many casinos.

Hiw Brad normally looks when there's no camera on him.

Both really really wanted me to take their photo

Brad, who took this pic, just asked me how handsome he is, from 1 to 10.

Of course 1 is the best score

Fancy dress for Cosmonaut parties

Bambi being chased by a carnivorous plant

Baloo hug

Forever love

As usual, she ended up blinkered in the kitchen

Modernity dwarfing history

I bought 3 ounces off this guy.

Home-made jam

Jesus shrugging at how mean people can be

The tower on the right is one of the trippiest highrise buildings I've ever seen. If you look closely, it's actually got a ferris wheel sitting way up high, outside the building, in a huge recess that's been designed for that reason, at what, I imagine, would be a great extra cost.

The thing is, it doesn't even go around, it's just sort of a weird sculpture.

I bet this field will be swamped by highrises in ten years.

Well that's clear

We didn't believe Brad when he told us it was this big.

This moving sculpture, of Nino and Ali, is famous in Georgia. It's actually really beautiful.

Nino and Ali move closer together, until they meet.

Then they merge into each other, become one entity for an instant, and then move apart again, only to connect later again.

Bit like real life innit.

The statue represents the famous Azerbaijani story of Nino and Ali, set in the 1910s. Nino, the young woman, was a Georgian Christian from a prominent family, and Ali an Azerbaijani Muslim man, also from a distinguished family. They fall in love at school in Baku, which was a very naughty thing to do, in their religiously divided world.

Despite their love going against all the cultural norms, Ali's father eventually permits him to marry Nino, but Ali has to wait one year, until she finishes school. Yes, really. One of Ali's friends, Melek Nacharyan, a Christian Armenian, was instrumental in persuading Ali's father to relent.

However Melek may have had ulterior motives.

When the First World War threatens Baku's safety, Melek persuades Nino to come away with him in his car, telling her that she needs to leave Baku, and that she'll be safe with him.

Heard that before.

By total chance, Ali overtakes them on horseback (must've had one hell of a horse), and once he sees them together he kills Melek, but spares Nino. What a guy.

Melek's family then search for Ali everywhere to get revenge, so he hides in a small village in Dagestan, and eventually Nino joins him, they get married, and live together in blissful poverty.

Eventually Melek's family leave Baku, and Nino and Ali return there, and then move to Tehran, and to various other places, due to the fluctuating fortunes of the war.

Eventually Ali gets killed in the war, and Nino lives unhappily ever after. Of course Ali is dead ever after, but it's hard to say whether he's happy or not, because he's dead, and it could possibly be quite hard to give a shit about anything when that happens to you.

Not sure where these guys were from, but they look northeast Asian or even Kazakh to me.

Now that's relevant tourist paraphernalia. Black Rasta dolls and bamboo trinkets on the Black Sea.

There's probably golf courses here too.

Rich asked Brad to marry him, but Brad's got a girlfriend so he said no, even though he really wanted to.

I so wanna live the rest of my days in one of these apartments, watching YouTube and eating crisps.

Our lonely corridor, with unbelievably creative art on the walls.

We eventually made it back to our hotel, and then I re-packed my stuff and rode my bike down into the old town, to store it at a hostel, with some of my gear, so I could avoid taking it to and from Tbilisi.

The old town looks pretty nice at night.

Well there ya go. Cannabis is legal in Georgia, as I mentioned in a previous blog. But selling it isn't, or consuming it in public.

The meaning of j'adore in France is nowhere near as gushy as the way it's used in English. Apparently. In France it expresses the love for an object, eg. "J'adore your hair darling!" So I guess, as it expresses love for an object, that it's the perfect product name.

Looks like an amazing gig. Go the body suits.

Are those gulls blue, or is it my imagination?

Back To Tbilisi

The next morning it was absolutely pissing down, as a storm had rolled in overnight and kept us all awake. Our front balcony doors, way way up high in our apartment, kept blowing open, as the latches were cheap and faulty.

Unfortunately for Brad and Rich, they needed to get themselves and their bicycles the 6 or 7 clicks to the railway station, as we were all heading back to the Georgian capital by train.

My bike was staying here in Batumi, so luckily I was able to cab it to the station, which took forever, because my young Yandex driver was completely stoned, and it took forever to explain to him where exactly I wanted to go (Batumi Central Railway Station, not that hard is it), and anyway he just wanted to chat. He insisted I smoke a joint with him, but I refused as it was only 7am, plus I knew that if I did we'd never make it to the station by 7am, or probably ever, as I knew I'd have to navigate.

Brad and Rich braved the storm, and arrived at the station with plenty of time to spare, wet to the bone. Poor fellows. Although I guess they're totally used to rain, living in England'n'all.

Eventually we took off, on a five or six hour journey to the capital, on a modern but not super fast train.

Much to our glee, a real live romance was going on before our very eyes, including a bit of booby action. It was engrossing.

There was snow outside, see? It didn't look like this with my nude eyes.

I read the news on the train.

'Twas a rather insightful description, if you ask me.

We arrived back in Tbilisi, Brad and Rich rode to our hostel, while I metro-ed and walked it.

We headed out for lunch to our favourite Georgian eating hole, Ghebi, where I wanted to have piggy, but then remembered that apparently its not good to eat your own species. The food was the bomb, as usual. And cheap.

Brad and Rich dis-assembled and packed their bikes, and then Brad slept, as it'd been an early morning and he hadn't had his regular 12 hour sleep.

Actually I think that's an example of what you call the pot calling the kettle black, as I also slept in the afternoon, but I so much wanted to say that about Brad, so I just made it up.

Incredibly, late in the day it got late. And we got hungry. Elmand, our very kind Azerbaijani hostel owner, who's actually a neuropsychologist, and who believes you can cure schizophrenia with massive doses of antioxidants (remind me not to have a consultation with him), suggested a great Georgian locals restaurant just up the road.

Rich became more handsome as the trip (and his beard) wore on.

The restaurant was great! It was a little basement place frequented by locals only, with a great menu, and a young waitress who was determined not to be too friendly, and who saved her biggest (pretty much only) smile of the night for right at the end, when she received our tip.

Rich and I had some chacha, the local grape-based fire water, washed down with some local red wine. The conversation got louder and louder, as it did elsewhere in the restaurant, and eventually Brad guided us home.

Nah, not really, we didn't drink that much, I'm sorry for being so boring, but how else am I supposed to make this blog interesting?

Ok then, when we got back home I smoked a big fat and very legal joint, in the privacy of my own hostel, compliments of Tata.

So there.

And, by the way, it's essential that I hereby state that whichever man (or woman) who may (or may not) have been present with me (or anyone else) during the alleged incident (or outcident) is completely unknown (or known), and any comments (or thoughts) about it are nothing but complete speculation (or the truth), and any man (or woman) who makes any allegation of untoward (or toward) behaviour is just speaking rubbish (or the truth), so help me God (or Goddess).

Amen (or women).

The Last Day

And then suddenly it was our very last day together. Our tri-cycle tour of Georgia was almost at an end.

What to do? It'd been a cracking journey, with so many amazing memorable times.

I can't remember if there were any forgettable ones.

As Brad and Rich had already packed their bikes, we had a very cruisey day, with nothing much to do except walk for hundreds of kilometres backwards and forwards to the same places while Brad and Rich looked for souvenirs for their friends and family.

Also clear.

We had lunch at an Indian restaurant. The waitress was from Kerala, ah I so miss the amazingly delicious Keralan food and the super friendly people there. But I won't miss this restaurant's food much, as their samosas looked and tasted like they'd come straight out of a frozen food packet made in Armenia from leftover filoux pastry and old veggie soup. The egg paratha was good though, at least that was fresh.

And actually, when I think about it, we had real chai, that definitely was also a treat.

I wanted the fatuous salad, but it seemed pointless.

I thought about the chicken too, but I'm vegetarian, and anyway Rich was next to me (we were two abrost), and he had it instead. Or maybe he didn't, who knows, I could be making that up too.

Souvenirs. Brad bought a fake-embroidered Madonna.

She was carrying her Godson.

We woke to this....

OMFG!!! WTF is happening in the world?

But luckily autumn leaves and their tree hosts just keep being beautiful, no matter what.

Until they die from climate sickness that is, but we won't mention that on this dark day, as we need to stay positive.

It's just a stroll in the park

We went to the main Tbilisi market, at Station Square. It had loads of great stuff, but zero souvenir socks, which is what the lads were looking for.

I couldn't work out what some of these things were, and nor could Google Lens.

They're not olives

Dried eggplants.

I know these are feijoas though, I used to pick them, somewhere, sometime, actually it was when I was living in New Zealand.

After all this cycling Rich has forgotten how to walk

We had Lebanese food for dinner, it was really good actually, and pretty cheap.

I decided against foul mdammas, they didn't sound appetising at all, and I thought maybe the fatteh might be too greasy.

Lebanon's got one of the nicer flags of the world, featuring their famous old cypress pines. All countries should have beautiful trees or plants or flowers or animals on their flags.

But I guess then they'd have to keep changing them, as these days species are becoming extinct pretty much every couple of days or so.

Hmmmm.

Do I sound like I'm having a negative day?

I really don't know why....

Time For Another Solo

I love solo-ing, but I also love being in a band, even if the band's only a trio.

And so it came to be, at 3am the next morning, that it was time to say goodbye again, this time to Brad and Rich, as they headed on their own journeys, back to the unreal world, back to their loves and back to their other lives.

It's been such an amazing trip.

It was so easy hanging with these guys, as we gel on many levels, such as when we actually have GEL in our pockets or in our kitty (Georgian lari), or when we have gel in our pants (Rich's cycling pants), or even when we have gel in our hair on various parts of our bodies, but I'm saying no more about that.

Brad Rich and I all love music, and talk about or sing it often. They know a million more things about music, musicians and recordings than I do, or ever will.

We share much of the same humour, which on this trip seemed to slide its way down to the lowest common denominator level (gutter) rather quickly. I'm not saying who's responsible for that, but it sure-as-hell wasn't me, I mean, it sure-as-hell was me. Mainly.

We all sit on the same side of the political fence, which is clearly on the right, but not in the left-right sense, but in the right-wrong sense.

We're on the side that believes that governments should introduce laws based on studied facts, and implement policies that actually help people, as well as protecting and regenerating the environment (and hence the economy), rather than policies that deliberately only benefit the vested interests of a few people, like political donors and billionaires, for example, many of whom try to disguise themselves by not even wearing vests anymore these days, heathens.

All of our similarities are not that surprising I guess, because many years ago we were all influenced by Vipassana meditation, and to a particular school of Vipassana meditation at that, the Goenka-ji style. We all originally met through those connections.

Well, it's not really Goenka's own meditation style, he actually learnt it from his own teachers, a collection of Burmese monks, but he was the guy who set up a huge network of meditation centres all around the world, a network that has given hundreds of thousands of people the opportunity to delve into the noisy chaos of their own minds, through spending ten days (or more) in silence.

Sounds hard doesn't it. But, actually, the silence is often the easier part. It's generally the acceptance of ourselves that's really hard. And the acceptance that life is not just about trying to feel good all the time, because that's impossible, and is not what life actually is. Life is also full of not-so-good feelings, and we can't change that, no matter how much we wish the opposite to be true.

The law of nature that we learnt, way back in those days, was to try to understand the principle of anicca, the simple law that everything always changes, whether it's pleasant, unpleasant, or neither. We'll never feel crap forever. Or great, for that matter, sorry to break it to you.

The more we accept that principle, the less pressure we put on ourselves to feel any particular way, and the more forgiving we are of ourselves for feeling whatever it is we're feeling at any moment.

Ok, that's the dharma talk for today, now let's all go out and get pissed and stoned cos life is fucked and Trump and Georgia Dream got re-elected.

And Brad and Rich have gone.

A Very Soft Landing

But in order to demonstrate the absolute truth of the law of anicca, the fact that everything always changes, the universe provided me with Dave, an amazing Canadian sitar player and guitarist, who was staying at my hostel in Batumi with his German wife Uschi.

What an absolute stroke of cosmic luck!

After Brad and Rich left Tbilisi at about 3.30am (poor buggers), I grabbed a little more sleep, little being the operative word, and then headed back to Tbilisi Central Station, to catch the early train back to Batumi.

I love the street art in this city, it's everywhere.

Come on!! It's just a flesh wound!

It was so nice to enjoy some of the views of the countryside again, as it was a clear day. I didn't have a window seat though, it was hard to take pics, I was right at the end of the carriage right up against a windowless wall.

The view across the aisle of the blue-ish Black Sea.

I walked to the old town from Batumi Station

There was even a few sprinklings of snow in the low hills, which surprised me, given how low they are. It's been really cold lately.

Batumi Port. While the Russian invasion of Ukraine completely disrupted Black Sea trade for some time, it has now rebounded, although some carriers refuse to operate there due to Western sanctions.

Another victim of war. There used to be a Black Sea ferry between Sochi in Russia, and here in Batumi. Sochi is also a Black Sea city.

The super nice Surf Hostel.

Dave's guitar is home made. Not only did he make it, with a fretless neck, but he then grafted a sitar neck onto it, so when you play exactly the right frequency the relevant sitar strings will vibrate, just like a sitar does. It's amazing, and Dave plays it so well.

But I wasn't used to the guitar tuning, so it wasn't so easy for me to play straight up.

I got the hang of it a little more later on.

Dave and I jammed every night, for a few hours. It was so amazing to be able to jam with two instruments, and with a great musician. Ahhh, life has really delivered for me, again!

Dave posted this of us on YouTube

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2bEUSjHWwvc

Storing Bewdy Again

So I need a break from my bike. We just can't just spend endless months together.

I always need to do something else, and be by myself every now and again.

And I have a plan.

And, (old breaking news), I have a job!

Yes, in a few weeks time I'm actually gonna be working for a month or so, in Germany of all places, so I need to leave Bewdy somewhere in Turkey for awhile and get my skinny arse to Deutschland.

It's about time I replenished my funds.

While I live pretty cheaply normally, I've been constantly handing over cash over the past many months, with pretty much no income to replace it.

So I'm happy to earn some Euros for awhile.

Now I'm gonna head west, overland, but more quickly than I normally would.

Yes, next up I'm heading just down the road, to incredible Turkey!❤️

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