Dates: 02-09 October 2017.

Tbilisi. A word I’d learnt many years ago playing World Soccer on my ZX Spectrum 128. Dynamo Tbilisi was one of the featured clubs, so when we drew Georgia in the 2018 Word Cup qualifiers I couldn’t wait to visit.

There was drama from the outset. My initial flight involved London->Kiev->Tbilisi but the third party I’d opted to use decided at the last minute to tell me they couldn’t secure a seat on the Kiev to Tbilisi leg, so, sat in the Chapel with Kai, Dave and a beer, I ended-up buying a flight with my phone and fingerprint, at the bar. Love technology.

The flight went from LHR via Athens and it was whilst sipping a beer in Athens airport that I got chatting to a Lebanese couple who wanted to record a video of me saying “Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch” to send to their friends!

On arrival in Tbilisi, at around 05.00, the city was dead quiet, wet and shrouded in a menacing mist. It felt satisfyingly “cold war”:

After a quick snooze, a radio interview about the forthcoming must-win match against Georgia, and a much-needed shower, I headed out to explore a still very wet Tbilisi. First-up, the obligatory free walking tour. The awful weather resulted in a party of four, including the guide!

The view from the hill to the north of the Mtkvri river where my hotel was situated, looking south at the city and the opposing hill:

The cable car took us up the mountain which afforded some great views despite the mist and rain:

The well-lit building in the middle is the presidential palace:

Mother Georgia looks over the city as its protector, and the girl’s got assets:

The tour concluded with some wine-tasting, though I’m not sure this eyebrow-raising number is strictly categorised as wine:

My hotel was up there, beyond the very well-lit Queen Darejan Palace:

The Peace Bridge at night:

Day two’s weather was much improved so it was time for further site-seeing. I started-off my catching the metro (to Rustaveli, near the villa we’d be occupying later in the trip) to the newer, plusher part of the city that contained art galleries, museums, civil buildings, but also a curiously large bike:

Afterwards it was a slow meander down to Liberty Square and on to take a look at the leaning clock tower I’d read a lot about:

It was indeed demonstrably leaning. I sat on the bench, made friends with a local cat, and waited for the pièce de résistance: the thrilling moment the clock strikes the hour mark…

The Queen Darejan Palace and peace Bridge during the day:

Tbilisi really is photogenic with so much going on. I explored some older areas later in the day and even the labyrinth of narrow lanes flanked by crumbling building held a certain charm and beauty:

I headed out of Tbilisi on day three, an hour and twenty minutes north west to Gori, the birthday of one Ioseb Besarionis dze Jughashvili. Better know as former Genral Secretary of the Soviet Union, Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin.

The Georgian language is unique in having its own alphabet. No Latin or Cyrillic here. Therefore, as I headed to the predictably chaotic Eastern European bus station I memorised the Georgian spelling for both Tbilisi and Gori as there would be no guarantee that the busses would have the Latin equivalent on their window cards. For Gori it was very much a case of: cartoon “acme” bomb, medieval ‘m’, medieval ‘m’ with a comb-over, medieval ‘n’. Look it up.

After wandering around the bus station (think muddy, stone-strewn car park) listening for someone yelling “Gori” I finally stumbled upon a full-looking minibus. After handing over a few Georgian Lari I was ordered on to a fold-down seat at the end of a row. The large old lady next to me immediately enveloped half my seat, leaving me perched on the end for the whole hour and twenty. All the way there I was just waiting for the door I was leaning against to fly open at 60mph…

A point of interest with the road to Gori is the fact that at two locations it passes within mere kilometres of the border with the disputed territory of South Ossetia. I’m all for travelling to questionable places, but unlike Transnistria with Moldova, it’s illegal to enter South Ossetia from Georgia. One can enter from Russia only. Nevertheless, the mountainous border region is quite striking even when viewed from the bus.

Apart from a general wander I wanted to go up to the top of the Gori Fortress and visit the Stalin Museum. At the bottom of the fortress, a memorial to those who lost their lives in the short period of Russian occupation during the South Ossetian conflict in 2008:

At the top the citadel was so peaceful and the views were amazing. I must have spent over half an hour up there just taking it all in.

At the top, with the guard entrance on the right:

Down below:

A few more:

The Stalin Museum is, predictably, at the end of Stalin Avenue. This is where I bumped into a few #WalesAway people. All the panels were in Georgian so there wasn’t much reading to do. Still a bit creepy though. Stalin’s old train is parked-up outside:

Not as catchy as Electric Avenue, but still:

The trip back to Tbilisi was much more comfortable thanks to sharing with just two Swedish hikers. One last glorious picture of Gori with a bit of lens flare:

The next day Haley, Ian and Alun arrived and we headed for the villa that Haley had found for us all. The place was cheap but ridiculously roomy and had a great view.

We headed up the mountain via the funicular and took in the view:

The day ended with a heart attack inducing starter of bread, butter and cheese:

Match day and Mike and Lyndsay joined the party. It was a beautifully day for it:

Unfortunately, we missed the buses that were arranged to take us to the ground so we hung around on a busy roundabout trying the flag a couple of taxis down. It was rush hour which didn’t help matters, then our pronunciation of “Dinamo” was sufficient to confuse the taxi drivers.

Taxi driver confusion was a common theme throughout the trip. The next day, after only being in the city a few days, me and Mike could have found our way to one location without looking at Google Maps, but the driver insisted he needed modern technology to find the main square. Maybe we just kept getting new starters?

Anyway, moments after getting out of the taxi at the ground I was approached by a local TV channel for an interview. It’s becoming a thing…

The Boris Paichadze Dinamo Arena:

There was a happy accident when they played the anthems. After the first verse of Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau ended the music was cut, but the #RedWall continued a cappella. The anthem is now done a cappella at home matches and sounds awesome. Diolch Georgia!

The game was a tense affair as it was a must-win. Thankfully, Tom Lawrence cut inside and powered a shot into the net at our end of the stadium. Job done.

The post-match celebrations were epic. We re-visited a cool cellar bar and made some new Georgian friends. Me, Mike and Alun gave a rousing rendition of Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau and the locals responded with a rendition of the Georgian anthem.

Get in there!:

The flight back the next day wasn’t until the evening so I took one last look around with Mike and Lyndsay before grabbing a taxi to the airport:

As I sat in the back of the taxi I was genuinely disappointed to be going home. Tbilisi had been awesome. The people were great, the city was beautiful and the food will probably kill most of the natives off before they reach 50. I.e. deliciously unhealthy. I hope I get to go back.

Normally, flights home aren’t noteworthy. Not this time. The flight was to LHR with Qatar, via Baku and Doha. Before take-off from Tbilisi, a woman in the row in front was clearly in some distress and appeared to be telling her travel companions about her concerns. The flight attendants could fathom what the issue was as they didn’t speak Russian. The guy next to me spoke-up and started translating the Russian into Georgian. This went on for a while and they eventually asked her if she wanted to get off. She seemed reluctant but continued to be upset.

Just as the flight attendants were about to give up – at this point the flight was being delayed – the captain came over the tannoy to announce the plane had developed a fault and we’d have to switch planes. Now, I don’t know what the fault was, but the distressed woman may have done everyone a favour… Needless to say, she wasn’t on the replacement plane.

The stop in Baku was just to take on passengers as opposed to transfer to another flight. Bizarrely, two guys got on with their pet falcons! According to the guy next to me, it’s a thing in the Arab world.

I had to sneak a picture:

Thankfully, the transfer at Doha was short because, naturally, it’s a dry country. What a trip!