Polamalu Vs Masada

We flew out of Armenia, our first flight since our initial flight to Russia, to Israel where we met up with both sets of parents.  My parents were going on a formal tour, but had built in time to meet up for dinner.  Chris' parents decided to have a go at 'budget style' travel with us.  Thankfully, we were able to get both sets of parents together for dinner before mine set off on their own itinerary.  It was really nice relaxing and catching up in Tel Aviv, but the real adventure started when we headed for Ein Gedi (Dead Sea area).  It was there that the saying, "If you can't run with the big dogs, then stay on the porch," would get played out on the big stage.  The following is a play by play account of those events. (NOTE: No professional football players were injured during the writing of this story.)

Team Leseman and Team Vasallo Unite

It's half past five in the morning and Polamalu positions himself squarely in front of his opponent. His rival stands as big as a mountain, daring him to take the first step. This foe laughs in his face, as Polamalu glares sternly ahead. He looks behind him to see the first haze of light high above the arrid land. That's the signal. The game has started. It's time to climb.

Masada Snake Path (Dead Sea at top of pic)

BLUE 42! BLUE 42! HIKE.....HIKE! That becomes his mantra, repeated like a tymphony in his head. Only a few more yards until the first down. He loses ground as he slips on the dry sand, falling back a few hash marks. But gotta push through. The clock is ticking and the ref isn't calling any timeouts.

The odds are against him. Drops of perspiration mark the ground like gingerbread crumbs, as they fall rapidly to the Earth. His heart is aching, straining for blood, but the sun refuses to stop the game. He crosses the 50 yard line. The giant sneers, but Polamalu isn't giving in to his intimidations.

He glances at the clock. Two minute warning. He can taste the chalk that marks the goal line in his mouth. Game on. With 43 seconds to spare, he passes the threshold of the end zone. TOUCH DOWN!!! During his dance, the sun breaks over the stands. BZZZZZZ!!!!! Game over. 

Polamalu 6. Masada 0.

Chris & Chris' Dad, Ryck "Polamalu"

LOGISTICAL STUFF:

If you want to climb "The Snake Path" up to Masada early in the morning, you have to take private transport, either a hired car or taxi. We took a taxi and prearranged for him to pick us up at 4:55am to arrive at Masada by 5:15am (15 minute drive from The Ein Gedi Youth Hostel). You buy your ticket for entry at the ticket office at the start of the path. (You then buy your cable car ticket separately at the top of Masada.) 

According to the driver, it would take anywhere between 45 - 75 minutes to climb to the top, depending on your athletic abilities. We reached the top at exactly 6:27am (72 minutes). We initially asked the driver to pick us up at 9:15 (giving us 4 hours for both the climb and seeing Masada), but that really wasn't enough time. In retrospect, we wish we had asked him to pick us up at 10:00am. Those extra 45 minutes would have given all of us time to watch the film down at the bottom of Masada (near the entrance) and venture down the stairs to the Northern Palace that clings to the cliff. 

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Press HERE For System Restart

Admittedly, there were a few setbacks and the staff didn't return to their positions as quickly as expected, but this announcement serves as restart of the blog production line.  Our current environment is more conducive to work activities, as the inter web facilities are available and somewhat reliable.  So let's roll the clock back and post by post make our way to the present.

The backlog started back in our final days in ARMENIA.  We had experienced numerous random acts of kindness from all sorts of strangers.  Those encounters alone are probably enough to justify a visit from fellow backpackers. But, for someone who enjoys visiting old churches I would say it's definitely worth your time.  Surprisingly, we never got tired of visiting all the churches.  We walked through the forest to some and took "the world's longest cable car" through mountainous canyons to others. It was good times searching out all the churches and seeing all the scenery along the way.

Here are some photos of holy sites and other things we saw while we traversed the country:

Noravank

Saint Hripsime Church

Sevanavank

Haghpat Monastery

Matosavank Monastery

LOGISTICAL STUFF:
SOLO TRAVELERS:
Public transport is pretty limited and you'll probably find most of the marshrutkas (mini-buses) to be full unless you catch them at their original departure point.  We found hitchhiking to actually be easier and safer than the erratic driving of taxi or marshrutka drivers.  It was foreign to us at first, but we quickly learned that it was practically another form of public transport.

GROUP TRAVELERS:
Renting a car in Yerevan (the only place to do it) is probably the best option.  Although you'll miss out on the hitchhiking encounter, you'll get to see more of the country and get more out of your time.  Also, the local bus schedules don't always link up right, so you could end up waiting for your next bus for a few hours at the station.  Also, if you're more than 2 people it becomes almost impossible to hitch a ride since you won't all fit in a single vehicle.

ALL TRAVELERS:
We found it very customary to be offered homemade vodka from our guesthouse host or even from complete strangers when we were hiking.  From our experience, it was always harmless and safe, but drinking 40-50% proof shots can quickly send you into a very bad world. We enjoyed a shot or two, but there were definite occasions when we politely declined, which translates into saying, "no thanks" about 20 times (no exaggeration).

CLICK FOR MORE PICS: FULL GALLERY | ARMENIA

ALERT: All Systems Down At The Blog Generating Plant

Due to foreseen circumstances, and managerial visits (from both our parents), all blog assembly line personnel have been dismissed from their post with minimal notice. We'd like to apologize for the slack in production in recent weeks, but our equipment (hard drive) was damaged within the timezone continuum and is in need of repairs. In addition, there has been a breakdown in Internet access, along with shortened office hours, particularly those spent in the break room.

We're working as quickly as we can to repair the damage, and will be operating on all fronts in the blogosphere before the next Internet opportunity is available (i.e. generating posts on Israel and Jordan). Again, we sincerely apologize for the inconvenience. Thank you so much for your cooperation and continued support.

Sincerely,

Mr. & Mrs. Gnome McGee

P.S.

The staff has taken their temporary dismissal to travel overland around the African continent through November 18th: Kenya, Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia, Botswana, Namibia, South Africa. Their whereabouts will be posted as a progress report within the coming week. 

Iced Coffees

Something happened today that I just can't get past. Matt and I were trying to hitch a ride from Yeghegnadzor to Goris (because we found out that we had missed the last marshrutka by just 8 minutes). After being propositioned by several Taxi drivers who had stopped for us, we see a man slam his brakes, reverse his car and exclaim, “No money. No money.” He wasn’t going to Goris, but he offered to take us to a town halfway. So, we hopped in. 

Mid-way through the 40 minute ride, he pulled over for a pit stop - we were assuming he had to run an errand. Two minutes later, he hops back in the driver's seat bearing gifts – iced coffees for himself, Matt and I.

Wait a minute. We ask for a ride, and YOU are the one that gives US something. Mind exploding - shouldn't it be the other way around? I mean, we didn't have much, but we were prepared to offer him an apple we had stashed in my bag.

I don't know why I'm so dumbfounded by this simple gesture. I guess it's because things like this just keep on happening. Just the night before, the next door neighbor of an apartment we were staying in randomly brought over a tray of fresh fruit and hazelnuts as a welcome gift. Then later invited us into her home for coffee and pastry with her family, where we ended the night with a gift from her son – a stone cross necklace for me.

I've never encountered perfect strangers with such blatant generosity and not a shred of expectancy to return the favor.

This world just keeps surprising me, and I'm so grateful that we get to experience these little moments one encounter at a time. As for the man, we said thank you in broken Armenian, popped open our iced coffees and cheersed our new friend – he politely said no to the apple. 

Yerevan Or Bust

We've quickly found out that here in Armenia all roads lead to Yerevan. It's easy to get there, but much more difficult to leave with a specific place in mind - outside of taking a Taxi, renting your own vehicle or hitching a ride (aka: auto-stop).

From Tbilisi, GEORGIA we wanted to cross into ARMENIA and stop 2km past the border in a town called Alaverdi. Unfortunately, according to the bus station, no such ticket existed. We tried for 3 hours to find a marshrutka to take us there (taxi wanted to charge 50 Lari / person), but they would only let us buy a 30 Lari ticket to Yerevan. If you speak Georgian, you may be able to work out a deal, buy even that is difficult without going through "the chief" first.

Chris - Using her backpack as a seat.

LOGISTICAL STUFF: 
TBILISI, GEORGIA - ALAVERDI (OR YEREVAN), ARMENIA: From the Ortachala international bus station in Tbilisi, buy a marshrutka ticket to Yerevan (last one leaves at 15:00 - private bus companies do not go to Alaverdi) for 30 Lari / person - sadly, you cannot get a cheaper ticket just for Alaverdi. We were unable to locate any information on trains to Alaverdi. If anything, there is a train to Yerevan on EVEN days, and one from Yerevan to Tbilisi on ODD days, but we are unsure if they even stop in Alaverdi. From talking to several travelers, there may not be one, and if so, it's difficult to stop.

Matt - Inside Georgian border control building.

VISA:
Hop off the bus (leave your bags on board) and go through the Georgian border control building to obtain your exit stamp. Hop back on the bus to travel 30 feet to the Armenian border control booth (outside, next to a large metal gate) to obtain your VISA. Fill out an application given to you by the officer in the booth - no photo required, despite what it says in the designated rectangular area on the top right corner of the application. Make sure you have a full-page available in your passport for the full-page VISA sticker to live. Sign the entry/exit paperwork (again, given by the officer) and pay the man. You cannot pay with any other currency other than Dram - 3000 Dram / person for U.S. Citizens. (If you need Dram, ask one of the security officers in fatigues to point you to the "bankomat" across the Armenian border - he will hold onto your passport until you return.) Walk 30 more feet to a tiny booth next to several car lanes to get your entry stamp. Welcome to Armenia! :) Don't forget to hop back onto the right marshrutka.

Day 100 - Brother & Sisterly Love

We wanted to post a big THANK YOU to Mark & Gaby (Matt's brother & sister-in-law) for bestowing upon us a taste of luxury for our 100th Day on the road. Also, thanks to Nicole (Chris' sister) for working her magic on the "hook-up" in this endeavor. Love you guys!

With their powers combined in Tbilisi, GEORGIA:

A Hiker's Paradise

There's still a great deal more to see on our trip, but if someone were to ask me today what place has had the most natural beauty in all the places I had ever traveled to, then I would, without question, say the Caucasus Mountains in Georgia.  I'm sure I would get a few blank stares back at home, until I explained that I meant the country of Georgia and not the state.
We visited two different places in the Greater Caucasus - Mestia and Kazbegi (there are plenty of others) - and both were equally mind-blowing in terms of natural beauty. There really aren't any words to describe how breathtaking it was, but picture small village towns, super fresh cool air, massively steep mountains, glaciers tucked away in almost every valley, and wild horses randomly seen on distant mountain sides.  

Mestia
 

Kazbegi

These regions truly are a hiker's - or any nature lover's - paradise. From the extreme glacier summit climbers to the 3-day trekkers, or even the 8hr day hikers, the options to enjoy nature seem endless. We saw wild horses on two of our four hikes and on all of them we couldn't stop saying, "Wow, where are we?!"

Mestia

The only possible negative part was the potential for over development and tourism run amok.  Although still not a tourist "Hot Spot", the once small village town of Mestia now has futuristic-looking buildings and construction on every corner. It's easy to see why there is such huge potential for tourism, but hopefully it doesn't take away what drew people here to begin with. (This wasn't the case in Kazbegi and, in our opinion, these regions as a whole are still very much "untouched.")

CLICK FOR PICS: Mestia & Kazbegi

Serendipity

Ha! That was aaaamazing!

A few days ago, Matt and I were making our way across Georgia from Borjomi to Kazbegi by their infamous marshrutkas. We had to stop in Tbilisi to catch the next bus north. The ride in itself is always an interesting venture - near head-on collisions, random local hitchhikers that hop on/off at will, babies that are tossed around the bus to various other passengers so that the mother could have a break, and shared snacks amongst us all.

This time, there was a middle-aged woman who succumbed to motion sickness. At first, she just felt woozy, so a fellow passenger let her lay her head down on her shoulder. However, immediately after she spilled her cookies inside the bus, almost every single passenger got involved in her care. Aside from stopping the bus to let her out, she was given bread, water and even the driver plucked some fruit from a tree on the side of the road to give to her. Keep in mind, these are absolute strangers. I wanted to do my part (I mean, we've all been there), so I handed her some wet wipes I got from a pizza restaurant weeks before, saving them for this such occasion.

After 10 minutes of back rubs and low chatter, we were on our way. Everyone shifted around so that she could take the front passenger seat near the driver, and a woman behind her continued to check-in every so often to see if she needed a break. Once we arrived in Kazbegi, after slowly maneuvering around each switchback (very unusual for marshrutkas to go slow around anything), everyone went their separate ways - we went to Nazi's Guesthouse.

Fast forward to today. We decided to check out some waterfalls just outside Arsha. It was a 5km walk there, along a very busy road, but once we got to the waterfall we were happy about the journey. We spent a few hours roaming the mountain side, eating the sandwich Nazi made for us, and finally made our way back down.

We greeted the road once again with a tad disdain. We began to walk, but had remembered seeing someone hitchhike their way to the waterfall earlier that day. So, we both decided to give it a go. We smiled big and on our first hand wave (up and down, like you're petting a dog) someone pulled over to pick us up.

We thanked the driver profusely, and got in. And guess who was in the passenger seat? None other than the sick woman from the marshrutka ride. It was just too serendipitous that we all chipped in to help her out when she was in need and there she was (not recognizing us) giving us a lift back to town. Just amazing. Guess that's just how it works here in Georgia.

SIDE NOTE:
Shortly after writing this, we found out that the sick woman from the marshrutka was in fact Nazi's Aunt, and the man in the driver's seat...(wait for it)...Nazi's Brother-in-Law. Wuddayaknow.

Georgian Hospitality - Marina's Guesthouse

Hospitality can come in many forms, but for us it came in a glass jar.

Coming from Turkey, where everything was high energy and long distances, we were looking forward to a little down time when we crossed into Georgia. But unfortunately, when we hit our first city – Zugdidi – we didn’t quite get the rest we were hoping for. Although the mosquito net Matt had been carrying in his pack for the past 3 months finally got a chance to make its debut, it still didn’t alleviate the puddles of sweat forming in every crevice of our bodies while we tossed during the night.

Zugdidi Hostel

When we reached Borjomi, it was a pleasant town with a relaxing atmosphere – humid-free, with various carnival rides and an outdoor café in the park, a cable car, even a Ferris wheel overlooking the mineral water park that Borjomi is so famous for. But, these are not what made our stay here so memorable. It’s not so much a matter of what, but rather who it was that made all the difference.

When we arrived at the front door step of Marina’s Guesthouse, we weren't quite sure of what to expect – would she even have availability?  We were aching for a place to just sit and catch up on blog posts, phone calls, and any other odds and ends that needed mending – like Matt’s ripped Jeans. As soon as we stepped over the threshold, we knew we had found our sanctuary. 

Not only did we have exceptional accommodations, like a sparkling bathroom (with hot water), baby soft sheets and our very own living quarters, but Marina herself was all around pleasant. One of the first things she mentioned was how her children both met Americans teaching English in Georgia, and are now married, living abroad. As we struggled to ask questions sprinkled with Georgian, she handed us a book, “English to Georgian Easy Phrases,” that her daughter had given her.

During our 5 days there, we did some laundry (rather, she did for us), uploaded some pictures and had some of the most delicious jam one would every lick off a spoon. Every morning, we would get giddy waiting to glob it over every edible surface that could withstand the weight. It was that good, and it was homemade by Marina and her mom right in that very kitchen.

We were only supposed to stay for 2 nights, but she just made us feel so welcome in her home that we didn’t want to leave. (Meanwhile, we counted the people that had come and gone during our stay.) When we came down for our final breakfast, we were genuinely sad to go. We did our best to memorize the flavor profile of her signature jam, but just as we were finishing our final bite, a sizeable jar of this deliciousness appeared next to me on the table. Marina smiled and said, “It’s to take with you.”

That did it. My jar of jam runneth over.

Before we left, she gave us one of those “mom” hugs – you know, where you just feel loved, and we did our best to thank her for making us feel so at home – a home away from home if you will. We hope to one day meet again in Georgia or even the States when she’s visiting her daughter. For now, we’ll just have to make due with scraping the bottom of the jam jar.

LOGISTICAL STUFF:

• Marina Zulmatashvili's Homestay (Marina's Guesthouse)
• Address: 2 Ketevan Tsamebuli St (2 Shroma St), Borjomi, GEORGIA
• W: http://www.facebook.com/MarinasGuesthouse/info
• E: marinasguesthouse@gmail.com | P: 598 18 45 50

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"It's Naked Time!" - Matt's Short Story

I went to take a shower at one of the guesthouses, here in Mestia, Georgia. Just as I disrobed, and was about to jump in and close the curtain, in walks the relatively older woman who owns the home - she calls herself 'The Babushka.' I stood there, bare ass naked, frozen. She just paused, smiled at me sweetly and closed the door. 

NO PICS FOR THIS ONE (for obvious reasons)