Tbilisi, Georgia. Jeff's birthday today, and first up we've got him a real treat - a trip to the Azerbaijan embassy to sort out visas. The good news is this involves riding the bus deep into the chaos that is Tbilisi's road network.
We're waiting at the stop when Jeff's miniature dumpling woman shows up. She's laughing loads through her gurny face, and keeps making a weird gesture, flicking her neck with her finger, and making a little hand signal while looking at me. The chaps surmise she's offering me sexual favours. It's not even my birthday.
This city is lovely. One of those where everyone helps out when you're being a complete flid trying to use the ticket machine on the bus, rather than what would typically happen in London - tutting and/or stabbing. Jeff is ushered into the front seat next to the driver, and spends the journey pissing himself over the driver's approach to chit-chat with anyone within ear-shot.
The embassy is a similar story. The police outside are unbelievably mellow. One sports his cap at a jaunty angle. And the dude inside the embassy the same. He spends ages explaining to us that we didn't need the $100 letter of invitation we were instructed to buy back in England, nor the $100 full visa. If we had proof of an on-going journey in our passport, we only need a $20 transit visa. Of course, he tells us that after we've paid, and we wonder whether he's just pocketing the difference. He then tells us to spread the word, so that others don't make the same mistake. It's the nicest case of apparent corruption we'll encounter this trip, we're sure.
All done, we go on an amble around the town. It's completely fucked. Where we're staying is really fucked, we established that straight away. The embassy area is better, next to a main strip of banks, tanning joints and new restaurants. But even that is built literally right beside ruined housing blocks which look entirely uninhabitable. As if Butlins' chalets had been liberated by the American military.
We're about to step onto a zebra crossing when a massive BMW turns in and canes past us. 'I'm sorry guys!' shouts the driver, leaning out the window. Jeff and I marvel at a city where people: 1. apologise for such things, and: 2. do so in your own language.
What a place. Just down the road we see a guy in a 4x4 getting pulled over by the cops. The cop gets out, of course giving us a quick wave as he approaches the car. What do you have to do in this town, of utterly mental driving and lovely policemen, to get pulled over? We watch with interest: the policeman strides over, kisses the motorist on the cheek and gives him a big hug.
Later it's time to hit the town. By now we've hooked up with a couple of Swiss guys, Omar and Louis, who are up for sharing in the Elf Child's birthday joy. So's Marika. We get lost on the tube to the old part of the town, which in its swankiness gives yet another head-scratching contrast to the rest of the place. The mood is especially weird tonight. It's one year since the Russians invaded Georgia over South Ossetia, and the main square has been turned into a make-shift gallery full of billboards of photography from the war. Happy birthday, Jeff.
We walk down a narrow alley of swanky restaurants, all of us starving. Jeff picks one. We sit outside and end up with a phenomenal spread of Georgian food. I bond with Omar over a shared love of Golden Era hip-hop (1988-1991). Then we go to a crap bar cranking house music. The birthday sesh is taking a while to crank up, even with the obligatory mass consumption of pricey G&Ts. Then we head up ot the rooftop bar, which is better, looking down on a Georgian rock for peace gig, playing to a dedicated if small crowd including two amazing headbangers.
And then out to try and find a club. The Lonely Planet had mentioned a place called the Tunnel Club, in an old nuclear bunker at the foot of Mother Georgia, this massive statue of a woman holding a sword, on a hilloverlooking the city. Steve heads back with Marika, Jeff Omar and I drag Louis along and we go on a mission to find it. Up darkened alleyways, up steps past a church and apartments, to the foot of Mother Georgia. No sign of the club, but the views of the city are tranquil and stunning. The statue's ace too.
On the way back down we say hello to a bloke and his girlfriend. They ask us to join them as they take in the view. They speak barely any English. He's in military uniform, which makes me think today must be hugely poignant. He's probably nursing some very fresh scars. His mate and girlfriend join us too. He's also in the army, and is carrying a gun. A weird thing to notice at 3am. He and I inhabit different worlds.
I know nothing of Tbilisi's story, but it's a pretty city at night.
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