My room was small, the size of a medium-sized closet with a bunk bed and not much else. I always enjoy these kinds of places. Small, cheap, effective.
The next morning I woke early, took a big ole shit, brushed my beautiful teeth, and headed out the door into the chilly dark of Tbilisi, back towards the central railway station. The high speed train looked the part, but barely got up over 30mph. It was very slow. The Georgia I saw through the window was a broken land. That's what happens when you stop fighting. You become a hollowed-out shell. That's what has become of Georgia. Maybe Ukraine, if it too stops fighting - when the money from America and Europe runs dry - will soon meet that same sad fate. I left the train excited for the city I had been thinking about for months. Another secret. One just for me! A Fukuoka! A Dulan! I cut the suitcase pulling crowd off to the side and headed for a concrete vantage point with a view over the ocean. As I caught sight of the skyline of Batumi in the distance, I felt an unmistakable disappointment. I knew then, this wouldn't be the place I thought it could have been. I strolled past the chirping taxi drivers and onto the long concrete path along the sea. I walked the few kilometres to downtown, disappointed, and then hot and disappointed. Everything just had a 'meh' to it all. bataumeh, not BatamE 🙁 The weirdo skyscrapers were much more anaemic and shit than the photos of them suggested. The beach stones, boring stones, crap stones. The sea, just a little blue black sea. It was a place of sadness doing its best at a coverup. I stared at the abandoned ferris wheel embedded in one of the landmark skyscrapers and sighed. I didn't need to go up and experience that, even if it was open and worked. It wasn't all a disappointment. The streets themselves in many ways were exactly what I wanted, the painted red sidewalks and the long residential boulevards lined with gorgeous pines. This was what I knew Batumi could be, sadly these tender patches couldn't make up for the hollow whole. On the last full day in the city it rained an awkward cold hot rain. I hit my leg hard on the bed, I was already recovering from a hit to the head on the slanted ceiling from the day before and half a dozen bites from tiny vicious bastard mosquitos as I slept. The next morning I woke early after five hours of sleep, stuffed everything in my bag and headed out the door. The streets were dark and empty. When I made it to the highway overpass looking over the city I felt a mix of emotions. What a miss of a city. I'm glad I went, I'm glad I know. I'm glad after the cancelled flight, it was not a 'what if?' ... As the cars sped past under the dark sky, and the ships in the harbour were fed supplies, I recorded my thoughts to camera and then continued on to Batumi Central to get the slow high speed train the fuck out of Batumi.
My room was small, the size of a medium-sized closet with a bunk bed and not much else. I always enjoy these kinds of places. Small, cheap, effective.
The next morning I woke early, took a big ole shit, brushed my beautiful teeth, and headed out the door into the chilly dark of Tbilisi, back towards the central railway station. The high speed train looked the part, but barely got up over 30mph. It was very slow. The Georgia I saw through the window was a broken land. That's what happens when you stop fighting. You become a hollowed-out shell. That's what has become of Georgia. Maybe Ukraine, if it too stops fighting - when the money from America and Europe runs dry - will soon meet that same sad fate. I left the train excited for the city I had been thinking about for months. Another secret. One just for me! A Fukuoka! A Dulan! I cut the suitcase pulling crowd off to the side and headed for a concrete vantage point with a view over the ocean. As I caught sight of the skyline of Batumi in the distance, I felt an unmistakable disappointment. I knew then, this wouldn't be the place I thought it could have been. I strolled past the chirping taxi drivers and onto the long concrete path along the sea. I walked the few kilometres to downtown, disappointed, and then hot and disappointed. Everything just had a 'meh' to it all. bataumeh, not BatamE 🙁 The weirdo skyscrapers were much more anaemic and shit than the photos of them suggested. The beach stones, boring stones, crap stones. The sea, just a little blue black sea. It was a place of sadness doing its best at a coverup. I stared at the abandoned ferris wheel embedded in one of the landmark skyscrapers and sighed. I didn't need to go up and experience that, even if it was open and worked. It wasn't all a disappointment. The streets themselves in many ways were exactly what I wanted, the painted red sidewalks and the long residential boulevards lined with gorgeous pines. This was what I knew Batumi could be, sadly these tender patches couldn't make up for the hollow whole. On the last full day in the city it rained an awkward cold hot rain. I hit my leg hard on the bed, I was already recovering from a hit to the head on the slanted ceiling from the day before and half a dozen bites from tiny vicious bastard mosquitos as I slept. The next morning I woke early after five hours of sleep, stuffed everything in my bag and headed out the door. The streets were dark and empty. When I made it to the highway overpass looking over the city I felt a mix of emotions. What a miss of a city. I'm glad I went, I'm glad I know. I'm glad after the cancelled flight, it was not a 'what if?' ... As the cars sped past under the dark sky, and the ships in the harbour were fed supplies, I recorded my thoughts to camera and then continued on to Batumi Central to get the slow high speed train the fuck out of Batumi.