Tuesday, 19 October 2026

 

Start: Batumi (GE) 10:30

Arrival: Trabzon (TR) 16:00 / 15:00 in Trabzon

 

Total: 199 km

 

 

 

Crossing from Georgia into Turkey should be easy-peasy, or so we thought. Well, we thought wrong. It started with Sonia having to get out of the car again to use the pedestrian tunnel. My line moved surprisingly fast and flawless. I breezed through the passport and car checks, my passport was stamped by the Turkish official and I was told that I was good to go. Yay, Sonia would not have to wait for me in the chilly morning air!

 

I arrived at the last barrier. Nothing happened for two full minutes, then I was told to move back and get the car X-rayed. Sighing, I turned around, located the X-ray ramp and got in line behind the trucks. An official shooed me to the side. I should wait there, stowed away behind the line of trucks. Why? I was the only car here. After about half an hour, I decided to get in line behind the trucks again. The official waved me off, I had to wait. Wait for what? All the other cars were driving past.

 

Each truck took about 15 minutes. After more than an hour, I was getting claustrophobic. Where was that official? No one to ask, no one answered my questions and Sonia must be worried sick by now. I got out of the car, slammed the door shut, marched to the X-ray booth and banged on the door. And kept banging. Finally, a man appeared. "I have been waiting for more than an hour. What for? When is my turn?" He tried to give me the "You need to wait" spiel. "No! I've been waiting patiently for a long time! Why was I singled out? My passport is already stamped, the car checked. I want to do this X-ray now! Why do you treat me like a terrorist?" The man was visibly uneasy. "Please don't shout." "I'm not shoutin. I want an answer, now. I insist!" "Wait one minute, please." He ran off.

 

Deep breath. I mentally boxed myself into a suitable fury so that - if he was not back in five minutes - I was ready to raise some more hell. He reappeared after a minute or two. "Behind the next truck, ok? You go right after this one." I nodded. Ok. Good.

 

I squeezed between two trucks. The truck driver who was now behind me struck up a conversation with me. "Sometimes it goes so fast. Sometimes it takes forever. Crazy." Yep, crazy indeed. I still didn't know why I was the only car singled out. But the trucker was nice. He was from Ukraine, transporting meat all the way from Western Ukraine through Romania and Turkey to Azerbaijan. What a detour! We chatted about my travels to Ukraine in the 2010s and he told me that he had been through Luxembourg more than once. Small world! Five minutes later, it was my car's turn to be X-rayed. It took all of two minutes and I was cleared to leave. Waving goodbye to my new-found Ukrainian buddy, I shook my head: If you want to get anything done, you have to complain until you're blue in the face.

 

Sonia greeted me with visible relief. "I saw you when you made the U-turn. Then I waited for ages. When I asked the bitch where you were, she just laughed in my face." The "bitch" was the skinny girl with the fake nails, fat make-up and hijab, who had single-handedly decided I needed an X-ray. It was always the same type of young women who gave us grief: first at the Belarusian border, then yesterday Sonia being singled out for an interview... never the efficient middle-aged female officers, never the chatty or no-nonsense men, always the chic-as-can-be chicks. Just why?

 

 

 

 

We drove along the Black Sea coast, bitching about the bitches. But we were really just so relieved to be together again. I hate it to be separated at the border with no idea what's going on.

 

When we arrived in Trabzon, I had no energy left to explore the seashore. It didn't look too great anyway. Just a sidewalk next to an endless noisy road. Instead, we headed for the hotel restaurant. Which reeked of tobacco smoke, just like the lobby of this "eco-certified" hotel. We fled outside onto the equally oxygen-free main thoroughfare, grimly determined to find some fresh fruit.

 

 

A promising-looking corner shop called ergan (without the "do" in the middle) was beckoning across the street. Sonia volunteered to brave the questionable-looking overpass to get us some food. I waited for her on this side of the road and took the opportunity to shoot this trilogy:

 

1. Sonia heading back over the bridge....

 

2. .... and coming down the stairs.

 

3. Success! She got us some delicious fruit and chocolate.

 

 

"I'm really not in the mood for anymore sightseeing", I said later, when we were munching grapes in our hotel room. "It'll be just another must-see madrasa. We've seen so many. Let's leave Sivas for another trip when we're ready to appreciate it again." My sister was more than happy to agree. So we scratched the Sivas detour from our agenda and studied the map. If we made an early start, we could make it all the way to Bolu tomorrow evening. Maybe.