“The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do.”
Our first few days through the northeastern Turkish hills proved to be our wettest days yet as we found ourselves in an unrelenting storm for days (and nights) on end. In fact, for eight hours one day I sang this song (to the tune of “Mister Sun”) –
“Oh mister wind, wind, mister abnoxious wind, please go home sick todayyyyy.”
– which probably gives you an idea as to which part of the storm was getting on my nerves the most.
“Destined to be an old women with no regrets.”
When we got to the “baggage check” station between the boarder of Georgia and Turkey we were prepared to laboriously take off every bag, put them on the X-Ray, and then repack our bags on the bike on the other side because that is what everyone else was doing. When the man in change of the station saw us though, he waved us through while ignoring our passports (which he was suppose to check as well), asked us half-heartedly if we were carrying alcohol or cigarets (no), and then, without missing a beat, asked us if we wanted some tea. So as everyone else was waiting for their passports and bags to be checked, we stood off to the side with our first cup of Turkish tea. Welcome to Turkey as a cyclist.
“Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.”
I am where I am today because my parents let me lead the way to the milk store fifteen minutes away from our house, so that by the time I was ten, I could go there on my own. I am comfortable in my ability to travel because my parents always made my brother and I walk in front of them through every terminal so that by twelve, they had enough confidence in me to let me fly alone, unaccompanied, to visit friends in a neighboring state. I felt no qualms about leaving to backpack through South America alone at eighteen because my parents had prepared me by showing me through their examples – from how to do my homework to how to run the dishwasher – before expecting me to compete these tasks by myself. If I ever needed help, of course I could ask for it, and if I ever felt scared, of course it wasn’t forced, but by expecting me to do certain tasks by myself when they felt they had given me the necessary tools, I was able become the self-reliant and independent person I am today.
“A day without sunshine is like, you know, night.”
After coming up and over the pass we ended up passing through a gorgeous valley surrounded by the Caucasus, a mountain range which runs from Russia into Georgia.
“Do not squander this time. You will never have it again. You have a crucial opportunity to invest in the next season of your life now. Whatever you sow, you will eventually reap. The habits you form in this season will stick with you for the rest of your life. So choose those habits wisely.”
We took another offshoot from the highway which led up into the mountains, though we must be getting soft since we didn’t take the road all the way to the end this time. Instead, we spent three days camping and fishing along the river. I know I have said this a million times already, but camping here in Georgia is probably the best thing about this country. There are plenty of open fields with trees and rivers, most of which already have a fire circle since the picnic culture is so prevalent here. We have now started to take advantage of this to make our own fires, which, as Kevin puts it, makes it “real camping.”
“When you stop doing things for fun you might as well be dead.”
Though I have mentioned it many times already, wine in Georgia is an essential part of the Georgian culture and therefore deserves it’s own post. First, let’s start with the history. Wine making tools from over 4,000 years ago have been excavated here which means that Georgia does indeed have the earliest (found) records of wine making; though legend has it that wine making actually started much earlier than that, as early as 8,000 years ago. In any case, it’s definitely been part of their culture for a very long time.
“The art of being happy lies in the art of extracting happiness from common things.”
I am an absolute animal lover. Kevin can’t even watch an animal based documentary with me anymore because I get so excited and can’t stop repeating “he is so cute!” the whole time, which, as he has so kindly put it, “ruins the show.” In any case, nearly every dog I have ever encountered easily wins over my immediate unconditional love. That is, until I was constantly chased by the ferocious looking sheep herding dogs here in Georgia.
“Later, we simply let life proceed, on its own direction, toward its own fate. But, unfortunately, very few follow the path laid out for them- the path to their destinies, and to happiness.”
Coming into Georgia from the highest passes in the world (the Indian Himalayas) sounded like a piece of cake. I figured that since we had just completed some of the “most extreme” cycling out there, any “mountains” here in Georgia would be easily conquered. Of course, this was all before I spent two days pushing (not cycling, pushing) my bike up the steepest rough road I have yet to encounter.
“Every so often a bird gets up and flies some place that its drawn to. I don’t suppose it could tell you why, but it does anyways.”
You know that feeling when you first realize that you are in love? When you just can’t get that person out of your mind, and when everything they do just seems so perfect? Well that’s how I feel about Georgia. I’m absolutely and irrevocably in love with this country already and I have only been here a week.
“Visions are worth fighting for. Why spend your life making someone else’s dreams?”
“Blood squirts out and onto the squealing guinea pig, who is about to reach the same fate as his brother. The knife tugs at the skin and fur, eventually severing the neck. Two decapitated guinea pigs staring at me with vacant eyes. An unknowing sheep that my trekking partner purchased a few days back is about to receive the same treatment. I have definitely never seen my meals so up close and personal before, and I’m not so sure I want to make a habit out of this.”
Check out the post I wrote for a fellow traveler about a wonderful night I spent in the middle of the Andes!
The Wandering Nomads 