From Georgia to India - September/October 2023

Before we board the plane in Tbilisi at the end of September to fly to Mumbai/India, we spend another month in Georgia's mountains of the high Caucasus.

At this time it's incredibly fun to run up and down hills so we leave the tent packed up and get a room in Stepantsminda instead. We spend almost two weeks in this village, where we were with our friend Julia a few weeks ago. We wake up every day at the foot of Mount Kazbeg to lace up our running shoes and head up more or less high. Even if we hike and run the same paths every day, it doesn't get boring. The play of clouds and the different colors of the sky give the landscape a different expression several times a day. Not to get enough of! At the end of these days in Stepantsminda, Maik signed up for a mountain run and, highly motivated, won it as 1st in his age group!

We finally welcome autumn in the village of Mestia. Again further north in the Svaneti region. The mountains of the high Caucasus seem to want to surpass each other in expression, grandeur and beauty. The area is rough, the village communities are structured according to clans and - as we hear - also governed. We stay here for almost two more weeks and look at the surroundings during short running and hiking trips.

It's good to recharge your batteries in this seclusion. To let the landscape work. To make everyday life quiet and monotonous.

Finally we return to the capital Tbilisi by mashrutka (minibus) and train.

A lot of things are organized and planned over the course of a week and our nervousness can really increase: Will flying be okay? Didn't we pack too much weight? Will the wheels arrive (in one piece)? Are WE getting where we want to be?

At the end of September we will say goodbye to Georgia and the Caucasus region for good. We spent five months in the summer of 2023 in two countries that we previously knew little about.

Thank you Georgia! For your diversity in such a small piece of earth.

Thank you for your beauty!

Thank you for your optimism despite this almost unbearable uncertainty about the future.

Thank you for your emotion and warmth, which you skillfully hide behind rough, serious and rough faces.

Thank you for providing shelter to so many neighbors.

Thank you for allowing your people modernity without losing tradition.

Thank you for acting in an emancipatory way even though your patriarchy is so deeply anchored.

Thank you for showing us how important it is to believe in progress, to stand up for it and to be persistent!

Thank you for trying to reconcile so many contradictory things.

Thank you for your uncomplicated hospitality!

On September 28th we board the plane in Tbilisi to be in Mumbai less than 24 hours later. At least that's what we believe when we get our bikes from storage at lunchtime and are taken to the airport by taxi.

A few hours later we are still sitting waiting among many other passengers at Tbilisi airport.

A few more hours later we are sitting in the lobby of a luxury hotel in Istanbul and waiting for our room keys.

A storm around the Turkish capital has disrupted air traffic. We missed the connecting flight. The next one isn't until the following evening. Also OK.

When we arrived sometime on September 30th. Taking another taxi early in the morning to go from Mumbai International Airport to cousin Deepa, we already know that everything went well. All luggage arrived with us and looks largely intact.

We spend the first two weeks of October in the megacity Mumbai. In between we take a sleeper night bus to Bengaluru, 1000km south, for a few days. Together with Deepa and a few others from the family we want to run a road marathon.

Even though Bengaluru is at 900 meters above sea level, it is very hot these days. But at least the humidity in that city is kept within limits. Nevertheless, the start of the run is set for 4 a.m. Maik and I finished our first 42.19km on asphalt with varying degrees of success and satisfaction. Quite tiring but a wonderful experience, running through a big city with a few thousand other people.

Back in Mumbai, I, Sita, especially enjoy spending time with some of my family who live here. The days we spend with cousin Deepa mean a lot to me and are very intense and warm. Meanwhile, Maik is struggling with various illnesses.

Finally the time has come and we put our bikes together. Everything finds its place relatively easily. Not a single screw is too many and none is left over. Only our mudguards have a different shape than they should. So we go to the nearest bike repair shop to ask the local mechanics for help. After some back and forth, a solution was found and after 15 minutes we left the workshop with beautifully dented, newly painted fenders. Without having paid for it. Sameer, the owner of the workshop, invites us as his guests for repairs. If this isn't a good start to our cycling trip through India!

The following day we ask brother-in-law Ujjwal to take us to the ferry port in his pickup truck. We don't feel like queuing up in Mumbai's incredibly heavy traffic, so we only get on our bikes in Mandwa. Mandwa is the ferry port for Alibaug, which is a town 40km south of Mumbai. As soon as we step off the ferry, the boiling, pulsating, noisy, transitioning city of Mumbai is forgotten. Rural India with its coastal and jungle roads, with its settlements, villages and cities lies before us.

Next month we want to drive about 500 km south along the Konkan coast. The first big destination of our trip is now just ahead of us: the village of Redi, on Maharashtra's border with Goa, with its small temple to the Hindu goddess Durga. Our Indian family's temple, which is always visited whenever we are in the country.

The first few kilometers in the saddle feel good. But increasingly severe headaches on my part and heavy sweating followed by nausea on Maik's part made us look for a room after just two hours and stay for a week. Both of us developed a massive cold with fever and painfully inflamed lungs. Continuing the journey is out of the question for the time being. We find accommodation with a lovely family who not only rents us a room, but also looks after us with reserved care.

After a week we say goodbye. Now we are healthy, fit and highly motivated to finally start cycling.

Oh how wonderful these cycling days are! The landscape is so beautiful. The roads are almost perfect. Traffic is quite acceptable. People treat us with curiosity, benevolence and reserve. The only thing that bothers us is the humid heat. It's hard to drink as much as we sweat.

After a few days we found a rhythm that lets us start our cycling day at 7 a.m., ride as much as possible in the morning (approx. 40km) and then pedal another 10 - 15km after a long lunch break. These days, the tent and stove usually stay in the bags. You sleep and shower in cheap accommodation. The food is opulent in so-called family restaurants. Here, for less than €5, we get lunch for the two of us consisting of various subji (vegetables), dahl (lentils), chapati (flatbread), rice, salad and then chai (tea).

On these days the path takes us up and down hills on small jungle roads near the coast of the Arabian Sea. Early in the morning the lush green landscape is shrouded in light wafts of mist and we can tell ourselves it is a bit cool.

We pass towns, settlements and small fishing villages where the day's catch is being traded, the nets are being mended and the fish are being dried. Where laundry is washed, leaves are swept, fires are lit and colorful fishing boats moored on the shore rock.

As we drive past, we get insights into lives that once again allow us to look with humility at our own carefree, joyful lives.