Telavi, Georgia

Today I left the luxury of my hotel room for the truck and we made our way towards Telavi, stopping at the newly renovated tourist town of Signagi along the way. The town felt very out of place, with its picture perfect facades and decorative window boxes, after all the delapidated buildings of nearby Tbilisi. There were police on every corner, maintaining the sense of peace, as hordes of Georgian tourists flocked to the newly created Pleasantville, to pose against the sparkling fountain and take a yellow tourist bus out to the boundary walls.

A huge amount of money had been spent on turning this town into an attraction, so much so, that it felt like a themed city, sterile and false, with a hint of something sinister, underneath the artificially created surface. The surrounding landscape was idyllic and resembled images of Tuscany, with terracotta roofs and green rolling hills. I sat on the fountain steps and ate my lunch, when even a cheerful dog sat beside me, well mannered and tail wagging as I tore off some scraps of bread.

Later in the afternoon we arrived at our homestay, a large family house with huge rooms and a balcony, overlooking a garden with herbs and fruit trees. We went fr a walk to the nearest town, while our host prepared a delicious meal for us, with a meaty soup, various dishes of vegetables and peppers stuffed with meat and rice. I also had a small dish of sliced mushrooms mixed with herbs. The soft drinks, however, were quite disgusting, artificial and fizzy, barely resembling the flavour that they were supposed to be. Much local wine was consumed by the others as a string of toasts were made. Part of the way through the evening the power cut off and we were in darkness. Our hosts brought out candles and we continued to eat.

The next day we said goodbye to our hosts and drove to a monestry in use by a group of nuns. Photography was not allowed and we were given long skirts to wear, on top of trousers. The main building was oppressive, with faded frescos, dimly lit by candle light and guarded by stern faced nuns. The next stop was a wine tasting experience, which a few of us decided to skip. The rest of the group came back quite merry and continued to drink throughout the day. They also filled a jerry can for the journey through the Stans, with cheap Georgian wine.

We sat up camp by the end of the afternoon in a clearing, surrounded by wooded hills and a lake. A local farmer hearded his sheep around the campsite and out towards distant pastures and a few of us gathered wood for the fire. Meat was cooked over an impromptu barbecue of hot wood with jacket potato and vegetables. It tasted divine.

Shortly after going to bed I became aware of drunken singing growing louder as a group of locals wandered around our campsite, probably curious as to who we were and wanting someone to drink with. After a while of us laying silently in our tents, they moved on and all that could be heard was the trickle of the stream.