Don Curry is having an adventure at the border

Don Curry had already been aware yesterday: today would bring the next big change. After just a few days in Georgia, the border crossing to Azerbaijan was next. Don Curry carefully collected all the documents: passport, visa, vehicle registration, notarized approval to drive the Georgian car in Azerbaijan. The only question was how long the border formalities would delay him. Don Curry had already contacted Jabir, the landlord of the vacation apartment in Baku and predicted a time between 6:00pm and 7:00pm. Jabir would wait, he wrote.

On this morning, Don Curry woke up to the penetrating chirping of numerous birds. Apart from the hotel and the ranch, there were no human settlements nearby. How refreshing to hear only natural sounds. But wait, didn't Don Curry suddenly hear the clattering of cutlery and dishes? That could only mean one thing: it was time for breakfast.

The table in front of him was set with filled plates, bowls, and little dishes in almost Anatolian abundance: tomatoes, cucumbers, various types of cheese and cottage cheese, a type of bulgur, a warm salad of roughly cut hard-boiled eggs in tomato sauce, apple puree, various types of fruit, honey, butter, and of course the super crispy homemade bread, which he had already tasted yesterday at dinner. A successful start to an exciting day!

His luggage was quickly packed in Xerra, the navigation system programmed for his first destination in Azerbaijan, and he was ready to go. Starting on well-built roads, he headed east, but after 40 km, the asphalt strip abruptly transformed into a wide gravel road. After another 10 km, Don Curry was supposed to turn onto a bad dirt road towards the border. A dirt road to an international border? Don Curry suspected that he had trusted Google Maps too much. This unofficial border crossing was indeed the closest, but only allowed for farmers and other border residents. So Don Curry had to go back almost the entire distance and had lost a total of 2 hours.

Slightly frustrated, Don Curry now chose the actual route to the border crossing, which consists of permanently well-paved roads. Surprised and delighted, Don Curry noticed that only a few trucks were ahead of him at the border. This should be quick to manage. But as he continued towards the control facilities, someone behind him shouted, 'Stop!' A Georgian border police officer approached him and tried to communicate in broken English that the border was closed for minibuses. Don Curry did not consider Xerra to be a minibus and therefore did not feel affected. He showed the police officer his visa for Azerbaijan, the vehicle documents including the notarized driver's license for the neighboring country, but none of that impressed him. 'The border is closed!' he insisted. Don Curry should please drive away.

But Don Curry does not give up so easily. He drove a few meters out of the way so that trucks could pass by him. Then he turned to his WhatsApp guardian angel Platon and asked if the border was actually closed. Platon promptly replied that it was indeed so. All border crossings to Azerbaijan are closed for private vehicles! Why? No idea.

Quite frustrated, Don Curry left the border area and drove a bit into the nearby Lagodekhi National Park. During a walk in the forest, he considered his options, also checked the flight connections between Tbilisi and Baku, which were surprisingly rare and mostly via Istanbul. That was not a real option either. So he quickly cancelled all pre-booked hotels and accommodations. Even Jabir understood that, although he would certainly not find any new customers today. Don Curry would have to stay in Georgia, although 'have to' is too harsh a way to put it.

Because Don Curry already had ideas on how to still enjoy this day. He decided to first make up for the All Saints Church in Gurdjaani, which was removed from the program yesterday. To do this, he had to return to Sighnaghi, winding up the mountain town and then down again on the other side. On the way, he pitied a lone cyclist who was struggling to pedal uphill and had not even completed half of the mighty ascent. The targeted church is located in the forests outside Gurdjaani, and Xerra rattled on bad tracks to a parking lot. While Don Curry immersed himself in a travel guide, a very grumpy-looking monk suddenly knocked on Xerra's window. When Don Curry opened it and addressed him in English, he disappeared again. He probably wanted to tell Don Curry that he could drive the 300 m further to the church by car, because when Don Curry got out, he saw that the grumpy one was not only a monk but also a gatekeeper. He had just let another car pass.

But Don Curry was very pleased to be able to walk the short path to the church through the wonderfully green Georgian forest. The travel guide had described it as the most curious church in Georgia, and so far, intensive research had not been able to unravel the architectural history of this peculiar building. It probably served as both a place of worship and a princely palace, which is why it was given two symmetrical towers in the middle of the roof. The friendly-looking monk inside the church did not object when Don Curry took out his camera and photographed parts of the interior. Unfortunately, in Georgian churches, the colorful modern icons are much more popular than the faded images from earlier centuries. They always push themselves to the forefront and cover up the traditional ones. Art enthusiasts like Don Curry have to look closely every time to discover the actual frescoes behind the hung and placed icons. But Don Curry had plenty of time now!

When he left the All Saints Church, it started drizzling lightly. When Don Curry returned to Sighnaghi, the drizzle turned into torrential rain. Don Curry had decided to stay overnight in Sighnaghi today. But not because there were outstanding accommodations there, but because there was an outstanding wine bar, at least famous throughout Georgia: the 'Pheasant Tears'. He wanted to stop there in the evening to learn more about Georgian wines and taste them. Despite the rain, Don Curry saw a simple sign 'Hotel Three Gracias' just a few meters away from the wine bar. That was practical! So Don Curry asked the Grazies if there was a free room in the hotel. The 'hotel' turned out to be a converted attic, where 3 small rooms had been created, accessible via an external staircase and a large shared veranda in front of the rooms with a magnificent view of Sighnaghi's old town. An older lady - one of the Grazies? - confirmed that there was indeed a free room and showed it to Don Curry. Although he could only barely stand upright in it, it did have its own tiny bathroom, which is by no means standard everywhere in Georgia. For one night and considering the perfect location almost next to 'Pheasant Tears', what was offered was quite alright. Don Curry agreed - and found out the price: including breakfast, it was €17. He hadn't stayed overnight that cheaply even in Anatolia.

Although it was still raining a bit, Don Curry walked the few steps to 'Pheasant Tears', which was already quite crowded shortly after 6:00pm. Nevertheless, a place was found for Don Curry and he was provided with the wine and menu. The waiter spoke fluent English and could wonderfully describe each wine. He explained that they were all organic wines from the qvevri jar and recommended a robust and down-to-earth white wine to Don Curry. Although it wasn't quite as exceptional as the wine from Café Littera, it tasted excellent. As an accompaniment to the wine, Don Curry chose a bean soup, a salad, a pkhlovani (a type of khachapuri filled with cheese and herbs), and of course bread and water from the rather limited menu. Don Curry enjoyed everything, and a slightly sweet red wine rounded off this research evening.

Actually, the failure at the border had completely ruined the entire day, and yet this intense border experience had opened up completely new possibilities. A visit to 'Pheasant Tears' would not have been possible otherwise. He had to think of the old wisdom: 'When one door closes, another one opens elsewhere.' A border experience may initially set you back, but it also directs your attention to new paths...