Winter was certainly here and the nights were too cold for my inadequate equipment. I knew I needed to push on to get to Georgia within the next few days. I would have one more stop in Azerbaijan – Ganja, where I was meeting a Couchsurfing host the next day.
It started to rain, something I hadn’t experienced for over a month, and the sound of it pattering on the concrete and the warm smell of petrichor it brought about seemed to bring back pleasant memories of England. I didn’t put my coat on because I wanted to feel soaked again, but the novelty soon passed.
As I walked to keep warm, a man in a van stopped because he felt bad for me and took me to a city 100km from Ganja.
I caught one more ride of a few kilometers to the outside of this city before setting my tarp up on the roadside.
I had not eaten in almost 24 hours and after the walking I had done today, I was shaking. My mood dropped like dumbbell and I frantically searched my bag for food. I boiled some water to prepare the last of my noodles
After waiting impatiently for the water to boil, I managed to knock it over as I picked up the cup. A piece of me died inside. Luckily, there was a supermarket down from me on the roadside.
I hung my damp clothes up inside the tarp and snacked on noodles, sunflower seeds and smarties. Despite being wet, I slept well and warm.
After a short night, I rose early to reach Ganja before 11am and meet my host at the train station. Surely, I thought, I would have no problems getting a ride there.
Next, I experienced the first hour-long wait in months. Once I did get a ride, my driver took me a few kilometers, waited for 30 mins and then said he was stopping here. For feck sake.
I waited for another 45 minutes before getting picked up again, eventually accepting that I would be late to meeting my next host.
Two Government workers then picked me up and told me they thought I worked for MI6, saying I “looked like I was undercover.” Nothing bad came of this encounter, once they realised I was harmless.
They dropped me off on the outside of Ganja. I walked in to find Wi-Fi to contact my host, Hakim. I was over an hour late and he had already sent a taxi to pick me up from our meeting point, which was the train station. I walked for an hour to reach it, found Wi-Fi again and contacted him.
He told me to wait there, but complications arose when he didn’t show up for over an hour. There was no internet at the station so I left to find some again, during which time his friend came and went. Eventually, I got taken to his house and we laughed about it.
Hakim lived with his wife, child and parents and grandparents – four generations – and it was lovely to see this. They made me traditional meals, curry-type things, rice and meat, etc. And whenever my tea cup was almost empty, someone would already be walking over to fill it up for me.
I had washed some clothes in the river the day before yesterday, but they had not yet dried fully. Hand washing in cold water makes it hard to completely clean the clothes, and when they stay damp for a couple of days, it exasperates the smell.
After showering, I changed into these clothes. Hakim was not the kind of person to be polite when something needed to be said and he told me that I had a bad smell about me, and that it was upsetting his family. He disappeared to fetch a bottle of aftershave which he then coated me in.
Was it just the wet clothes, or did I always smell while on the road? How many people could I have met who were too nice to say anything?
Unfortunately, Hakim had to leave on the first evening for a job interview in Baku, but his wife spoke English well enough.
Ganja itself I explored alone. It was a very poor city, sitting in stark contrast to Baku. After having four separate children grab my leg and beg for money, I reached a river which was mostly full of rubbish and decided to jus go back to the house.
On the morning of the day I left, I went with Hakim’s wife to the school she taught at. The children were just as excited as the ones in Uzbekistan were.
I made probably the most essential purchase of the adventure before leaving the city – headphones. Now, I could avoid the countless people asking where I was from every 30 seconds. I had had more than enough of it at this point and it was no longer just annoying, it was sending me insane.
The 14km walk went by swiftly and before I knew it I was on the outside of the city. The sun slipped behind the purple, silhouetted mountains and it was time to find somewhere to camp.
Vast, green, flat and open was the field I walked into at the foot of the mountains. Far off to my left and right were two farmers grazing their cattle. They would look very confused as I packed away the next morning.
The gas bottle that had been with me since Estonia finally ran out when I was making my morning coffee. Luckily, I had a paraffin cube in my survival kit, intended for emergencies (which this definitely was).
One truck driver took me all the way to the border. He was a lovely welcome to the country, offering me grapes and chocolate.
At the border crossing, the official didn’t even check my passport page. She just glanced at the EU emblem on the front and stamped me in for one year. And as easily as that, I was in Georgia!
A river ran between the two countries and I was welcomed by lush green trees and crumbling concrete houses scattered around the landscape. Birds chirped around me and squirrels scurried up trees.
The road was virtually empty and it took two hours to get a ride to Tbilisi, the capital city and my home-to-be until Spring.
Once I finally reached the city, I contacted my next Couchsurfing host who I hoped could help me to settle in, but he had been called away for business. Luckily, he had left the key with a neighbour.
I took out local currency, bought a liter of cheap beer, some ice cream and a kebab and relaxed on my first night of my new temporary country of residence.
Ahead of me now was the tail end of the biggest challenge of the trip so far – getting the visa to China outside of my home country. But I didn’t have to worry about that for another 5 months or so; I would wait the winter out in Georgia, while resting from the craziest and most emotionally draining experience of my life, finding a job and putting some money back into my account to help sustain a now vastly extended expedition.