On arrival our wonderful friend Nino Simonia pitched up the moment we arrived through customs, brilliant timing. Georgians never waste time if they can be doing something else. So waiting diligently and suffering every moment waiting in a queue is simply an anathema to Georgians, especially Nino who swept us off our feet with the style and grace you would expect from a Parisian. The difference was her car wouldn’t start. Cars are often old in Georgia and invariably held together with string and elastoplast . The memories of their sleek trouble free past are held by previous owners. Never down cast Nino (who bought her car new and remembers better times in Georgia) made a call. Georgians love their mobile phones and I swear they would part with the family silver before they gave up their mobile. The message was the battery in the boot may be the trouble and of course this was correct. With a waggle of the terminal the Mercedes burst into life and we were off.
Melissa started to count the red lights as Nino hurtled through Tbilisi. Traffic signs are for wimps in Georgia and Nino was not about to become one. Traffic simply becomes a soup of cars all desperate to stay in front and prove they are better drivers. If you have driven in the Lebanon, India or parts of Africa and South America and you think you have experienced dreadful driving, think again, Georgians are in a league of their own.
We had only driven through Tbilisi from the airport and already the world was changing before our eyes. The fun part was yet to come.
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