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Media Coverage of War is As Confusing as War Itself
August 14, 2008
I’ve been following the news media frenzy on the conflict in Georgia. There are many news media channels available on google.co.uk/news and I’ve been watching the news breaking on this story, which has snowballed over the last ten days.
In one article in the Times, I saw the following story:
“A Georgian interior ministry spokesman said that, Russian forces were destroying Gori, which is about 50 miles north west of Tbilisi.
Tags: VagabondWarMediaTravelNewsGeorgiaTbilisiRussiaConflictnewsreporting
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When War Comes Too Close for Comfort
August 9, 2008
Today Georgia declared a state of war with Russia. Luckily, I’d left on the 26th of July to come home to England and surprise my family. I travelled by bus and train. I’m planning to start to travel back towards Georgia on Monday. I hope that by the time I intend to get back to Tbilisi (around the beginning of September) - the situation will have quietened down.
I have secured my visas for onward travel into Azerbaijan, Iran and Pakistan, but if I can’t get to my bike which is in the basement of my friend’s (the architect) house, then I will be stuck and delayed. I am extremely frustrated and angry at the occurrences.
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Earn Money and Stay Longer in One Place to Deepen Your Travel Experience
June 30, 2008
I’m working on a website for a real estate company here in Georgia because I have run out of money for the round the world bicycle trip.
I’m living with a Dutch architect and an English real estate company director called Richard. It’s a nice novelty to live with an English (as my French girlfriend Fanny would call us), but we’re just so bloody English… The architect has a dream to cycle round the world, so it’s nice to have something in common.
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Travel Twists Space and Time And You Need To Experience It
March 31, 2008
I’m in Tbilisi and hopefully this blog will fill in what has been happening with me. As you may know I arrived in Yerevan for the first time, by bicycle, on the 24th January. I met up with Tom in the city, after we had cycled alone from near the Georgian border. Fanny came out to visit me in Yerevan and we stayed with friends, Max and Irene. We had wonderful times which passed too quickly.
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The Marshrutka Experience Will Stay With Me For Life
March 19, 2008
The driver’s wearing a leather jacket, thick material. I think, “that’s too hot inside this cramped vehicle, it must be for the look”. The driver’s visual appearance is like a gangster out of a Guy Ritchie film. Somehow I convinced myself to put my trust in this gold-teeth-laden man with ring and bracelet to match. He’s wearing his savings. Across his weathered-looking face is pair of dirty, gold-tinted sunglasses, so I can’t quite see the colour of his eyes in the rear view mirror.
Tags: Creative writingVanMarshrutkaMinibusPublic transportArmeniaTravelGeorgia
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Discovering Armenia - A Gem in the Caucasus
March 15, 2008
I arrived in Yerevan last Wednesday. I have been staying with some wonderful new friends who work at the French Embassy. From the first village after crossing the border into Armenia from Georgia, Tom and I decided to cycle alone to Yerevan. Cycling alone gives one more freedom. I decide when to move, stop, eat, or continue. The decisions are my own without excuses. There is no one else to blame but myself if things don’t go according to plan.
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My First Impressions of the Georgian Language
February 1, 2008
The women I work with at the Georgian school chirp away in the interesting-sounding language that is Georgian. The unusual bold combinations of sounds evoke in me the characteristics of delight, a child complaining about not getting what they want and highly social chitchat. It sounds, to me, sweet at times, ugly at others and has a bouncing rhythm with a very distinct pattern of intonation.
Most Georgians I met seemed to be the loveliest, happiest and helpful people I’d ever met. Apart from when a fight or disagreement happens when all hell breaks look. There is a lot of arm waving and loud, childish-sounding, angry, almost poetic shouting and sometimes wailing. testosterone-fuelled affair, driven by pride and tradition. The old women intervene and try to get the young people to stop.