Distance: 98km
Elevation: 300m
Kutaissi: https://maps.app.goo.gl/agyV8QUN8AKH7Mmn9?g_st=ic
I woke up late when the sun was already up. I must have felt very safe at my little campsite directly by the Black Sea. I went for a swim and did my morning routine.
My neighbor approached me and started a conversation. He was the first Russian I had spoken to in many, many years.
His name was Alexei. He was from St. Petersburg and used to work for a Lithuanian company that promoted Russian artists before the war.
Alexei’s position was clear. Putin is the best president Russia has ever had. What Putin actually wants is peace. But nobody is listening. Nobody is willing to sit down and talk.
I found that interesting. And I agreed with him to a degree. I also wonder since long why nobody is seriously engaging in peace negotiations. It seems that this geographically contained war serves a purpose on a global scale. That question is: which purpose?
We took a family photo together with his wife Natasha and his son Jan.
About 15 minutes later, just as I was getting ready to leave, another Russian family came over. They also wanted a photo with me and Rosinante. Their position was completely different. They had emigrated from Russia to Georgia. They could not bear living in their home country anymore. The atmosphere. The war. And the very real risk of conscription. Being drafted to the front line. So they had left. They started a new life here in Georgia.
Two Russian families. Fifteen minutes apart. Completely opposite views.
That helped me. It reminded me that there is a multitude of opinions also inside Russia. As foreigners who cannot travel to Russian anymore we have stopped seing that. Not everyone is streamlined. Not everyone supports the war. That gave me a little hope.
It also reassured me of something else. Russians are humans. They love their children. They want a future for their kids. They want security. The possibility to build a life and follow their dreams. They do not want war.
When I started cycling, I quickly noticed something else. Georgia is the land of free-roaming animals. Cows, pigs, goats, geese — they all wander freely along the road and through the villages. Somehow they do not get hit by cars. And somehow they do not escape either. They just graze, stay together, and look completely unbothered. It is genuinely fun to watch.
The heat came fast. It was also very humid. There was no shade. The sun burned straight down onto my head.
The road was flat. That should have made things easy. It did not. I needed many breaks. I had to get out of the sun and cool down. Even on flat ground, it was hard to keep moving.
The road was also narrow. There were a lot of trucks and overpowered cars. I had many close moments with passing vehicles. Twice, trucks came so fast and so close that I had no choice but to leave the road completely and go onto the curb. They did not slow down or move over.
Fortunately, those sections were limited. Further along, the traffic became lighter. Less narrow. Less scary.
I had lunch in a little town called Samtredia.
I had a Georgian Shawarma, a stuffed bread role not unlike the Turkish Dürum. Yummy.
The last ten kilometers into Kutaisi were, as the British would say, interesting. It was half traffic, half rallye. There seemed to be no rules. Everyone was cutting in front of everyone else. Everyone was honking. I yelled as well in German, so that people would pay attention to me and not run me over. After a while, I actually started to enjoy it. It felt like bumper cars at a fairground. Chaotic, but also exciting at the same time.
Eventually I arrived at my guesthouse. The owner of the neighboring guesthouse was standing outside and we chatted for a while. Then the actual owner of my place arrived and let me in.
I immediately started washing my clothes. There was a washing machine that I could use, which felt like a small miracle. I was very proud of myself for being so effective right after arriving.
In the evening, after a chat with Carolin, I went into town to find some dinner. On the way out I ran into Matthew, a Frenchman living in Australia for 20 years now. He was also staying at the guesthouse. We spoke briefly and decided to go out together and get to know each other.
We found a place that the owner of our guesthouse had recommended. It turned out he had already called ahead and announced our arrival. They were ready for us. The welcome was warm.
We were greeted with Chacha, the Georgian version of grappa. Then came a long conversation. Life, love, peace, the purpose of it all. The deep stuff. The kind of conversation you sometimes have with a perfect stranger that you would never have with someone you have known for years.
After a couple of beers we returned to the guesthouse. Our host was waiting for us. He had homemade Georgian wine. It tasted like nothing I had ever had before. It was delicious though. It was also very, very strong.
After a couple of glasses I called it a night. I hope Matthew made it back to his room safely. It was a fine evening.