Not Quite A Country (Abkhazia, Georgia/Russia/???)

July 18^th, 2010 – Seeing as summer is a lovely time to visit breakaway republics I decided to make my way to the Republic of Abkhazia, a quaint little renegade society scrunched betwixt Russia, Georgia, and the Black Sea. Wanna go? Just fill out an application at the Abkazian Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) website and wait for an authorization letter. That letter will get you across the border. Once you arrive in Sukhumi head to the bank, pay the twenty dollar visa fee, and take your receipt to the MFA office to receive a shiny new visa. So easy even an American can do it.

Took the night train from Tbilisi to Zugdidi in Western Georgia. Four person birth. Windows didn't open. No aircon. Beginning of July. Snails pace. Yes. I arrived at around six o'clock in the morning, conducted the normal haggling ritual for a taxi, and made my way to the border. My driver spoke nary a word of English and was clearly confused by the idea of me heading to the Georgian/Abkhazian border. I arrived at this conclusion when he drove me to a house of a friend or relative in order to find a translator at 6:30 am. It turned out to be a young girl no older than 14 that he roused from sleep in honor of the occasion. She never did utter a word of English. Luckily, her interpretive skill became superfluous as at some point I managed to convey my intentions. To the border I say!

Ghosts of Sukhumi (Sukhumi, Abkhazia)

July 21^st, 2010 - Ghosts roam the streets of Sukhumi. You may not see them. You may not hear them. But I assure you, they are there. And trust me, you do not want to see them...ever. You cannot help but sense their presence. This is as close as you want to get. For there are those mortals roaming these streets that see them in vivid HD and would give anything, I am certain, to forget them forever. They will try but they will never succeed. Nor should they be allowed to forget. Never.

Shortly after arriving I entered an upscale hotel in the center of town hoping someone behind the desk could not only speak English but would direct me to the street where my intended homestay was located. I found my paladin in the form of a woman named Alana. Not only did she call someone to pick me up and bring me to the homestay (she was friends with the wife of the son of the owners or something along those lines) she also changed money for me, called the Ministry Of Foreign Shit on my behalf, and even smiled. I am amazed how much I have come to appreciate a smile. Sometimes it pays to be tall and helpless.

Upon arriving at the homestay I discovered that the owners' daughter also spoke English. It was like friggin Christmas. At one point the owner/mother of said daughter made an attempt to warn me about the Russian miscreant in the room adjacent to mine. Apparently, he was an unsavory type. She kept advising me to lock my door, put my bags in the wardrobe, and keep my window locked. The truth is my Russian is a little non-existent so you could say I was a teensy bit confused. At one point her husband put a screen of metal bars (I helped) on my window. Who the hell was this guy? Hitman? Bank robber? Insurance salesman?