I’m sitting in a hotel bar. It's early evening in Sweden. I’m approached by someone wearing a leather flat cap and a knee length black leather coat and a red scarf. He looks just like Borat’s sidekick, the guy who drove the post van around the US. He’s squat and solidly built. He’s from Tbilisi, and his name is George. I’m glad of the company.
We’re in Gothenburg.
Me and my new shipmate, George from Georgia, are sharing a few yarns and clinking glasses a little too quickly. A tall blonde Swedish fellow, Erik, joins us. “Hei, what do you think of Swedish beer,” he asks enthusiastically. Swedish beer, well it’s similar to the bottom of a boat, both close to water. “Love it, just behind Belgium when it comes to beer”, I respond.
I’ve seen this movie before, and not referring to Borat. The script where one gets plastered with someone dressed in black leather who has an association with the Former Soviet Union. George must be an alcoholic; he’s now ordering vodka chasers with his beer. My definition of an alcoholic? Someone who drinks more than me.
We clink glasses... again. George proposes a toast, “To the Mothers of our children.” I glance at my watch; it’s nearly half past six. I’ve promised myself I’ll be in bed by 2100 hrs. I’m attending a conference tomorrow, and I’ll be doing the ‘Early Morning Run in... Gothenburg’ for this blog. George explains toasting in Georgia is a ritual. There’s toast number one to ten which are the formalities. He explains we can then go off-piste with toasting. At this rate, I’ll be half-piste before we get halfway through the formalities.
George stands, “To our families.”
I’m on a two-city European tour for work. Here and then Geneva. My instinct tells me Gothenburg is the better bet for the blog. It’s more real and down to earth. Switzerland is well, Switzerland. Mind you; the flag is a big plus.
I ask Erik about Gothenburg and a suitable route for the run tomorrow morning, somewhere that takes in the sights and places of interests. Erik kindly provides some information. I turn to thank him. Erik has done the old French exit.
George stands, “To our countries”. This fellow is a maniac. “Yep, our countries.”
I tell George a tale about visiting Tbilisi back in the late 90’s. I was in the army, and it wasn’t long after Georgia’s independence from Russia. Toasting with George is bringing it all back. “Mark, what did you think of our people?” I remember one person in every five had a beard, more if you included the women. “I tell you what I remember George; one word, spirit. An indomitable spirit.”
George stands, “To spirit.” Ouch, “Spirit.”
“George, tell me a story from Georgia?” George pauses, adjusts his leather cap.
“Well, there's a story about a man in my village near Tbilisi. This old man spent 40 years working in our village school. Do they call him ‘Giorgi the teacher’? Oh no. He fixes everyone’s bicycles when they break down. Do they call him ‘Giorgi the bicycle guy’? No. When the bridge was washed away in the floods, he rebuilt it with his own hands. Do they call him ‘Giorgi the bridge-builder’? Uh-uh. But he gets caught diddling a goat just ONE time…”
George stands, “To goats everywhere.” Blimey O’Reilly, “Billy Goats.”
Hey George, “Listen, I need to get to bed, it’s nearly quarter to eight. I’m, er, running in the morning. I can’t let my readers down.”
George stands, “Mark, a toast before you go, my friend.”
I can’t think straight; I go to the old standby as used in Tbilisi nearly 20 years ago and still going strong. Yep.
Mark stands, “George, to our wives and girlfriends... and... (pause)... may they never meet.” George laughs, “May they never meet.”
Fast forward to 0600 hrs. Reveille is playing on my smartphone. Not for long it isn’t.
Fast forward to 0730 hrs. Reveille is playing.
Fast forward to 0815 hrs. My head... why, never again. Right, get up and take breakfast before the conference, or grab another quick 30. Breakfast is overrated...
OK, so where’s the flipping run Ringo? We've read through this twaddle to learn about Gothenburg? OK, I feel bad, come with me, it’s late afternoon. I’ll walk around the city, grab some fresh air and take a couple of snaps for you...
Where to next? This year has started in a crazy way for travel. I’m busier than a Baghdad brickie.
Mark stands, “Long may it continue!”
So, where next? I’m now completing an extended 6-week road trip in East Africa, but to places, I’ve covered before. In fact, I’m on my way home from the last leg, in Jo’Burg, where I stayed with my old friend, ‘Lifeline’. This post is completed today on the Kenya Scareways flight. No retakes.
For long-term readers, ‘Lifeline’ is a 4-time guest runner (Harare, Bulawayo, Vic Falls & Jo’Burg) back in the summer of 2014 in the early days of the blog. The best road trip of my life. Great memories (photo after the Vic Falls half marathon).
Come on, for the love of Friday, where to next!?
Mark stands, clears throat, the big one, the one I’ve always wanted, raise your glasses, “LAGOS.” That’s right, Nigeria.
Thank you for reading this blog. I have a favour to ask, if you have enjoyed it, please add a comment below.
We’re in Gothenburg.
I’ve seen this movie before, and not referring to Borat. The script where one gets plastered with someone dressed in black leather who has an association with the Former Soviet Union. George must be an alcoholic; he’s now ordering vodka chasers with his beer. My definition of an alcoholic? Someone who drinks more than me.
We clink glasses... again. George proposes a toast, “To the Mothers of our children.” I glance at my watch; it’s nearly half past six. I’ve promised myself I’ll be in bed by 2100 hrs. I’m attending a conference tomorrow, and I’ll be doing the ‘Early Morning Run in... Gothenburg’ for this blog. George explains toasting in Georgia is a ritual. There’s toast number one to ten which are the formalities. He explains we can then go off-piste with toasting. At this rate, I’ll be half-piste before we get halfway through the formalities.
George stands, “To our families.”
I’m on a two-city European tour for work. Here and then Geneva. My instinct tells me Gothenburg is the better bet for the blog. It’s more real and down to earth. Switzerland is well, Switzerland. Mind you; the flag is a big plus.
I ask Erik about Gothenburg and a suitable route for the run tomorrow morning, somewhere that takes in the sights and places of interests. Erik kindly provides some information. I turn to thank him. Erik has done the old French exit.
George stands, “To our countries”. This fellow is a maniac. “Yep, our countries.”
I tell George a tale about visiting Tbilisi back in the late 90’s. I was in the army, and it wasn’t long after Georgia’s independence from Russia. Toasting with George is bringing it all back. “Mark, what did you think of our people?” I remember one person in every five had a beard, more if you included the women. “I tell you what I remember George; one word, spirit. An indomitable spirit.”
George stands, “To spirit.” Ouch, “Spirit.”
“George, tell me a story from Georgia?” George pauses, adjusts his leather cap.
“Well, there's a story about a man in my village near Tbilisi. This old man spent 40 years working in our village school. Do they call him ‘Giorgi the teacher’? Oh no. He fixes everyone’s bicycles when they break down. Do they call him ‘Giorgi the bicycle guy’? No. When the bridge was washed away in the floods, he rebuilt it with his own hands. Do they call him ‘Giorgi the bridge-builder’? Uh-uh. But he gets caught diddling a goat just ONE time…”
George stands, “To goats everywhere.” Blimey O’Reilly, “Billy Goats.”
Hey George, “Listen, I need to get to bed, it’s nearly quarter to eight. I’m, er, running in the morning. I can’t let my readers down.”
George stands, “Mark, a toast before you go, my friend.”
I can’t think straight; I go to the old standby as used in Tbilisi nearly 20 years ago and still going strong. Yep.
Mark stands, “George, to our wives and girlfriends... and... (pause)... may they never meet.” George laughs, “May they never meet.”
Fast forward to 0600 hrs. Reveille is playing on my smartphone. Not for long it isn’t.
Fast forward to 0730 hrs. Reveille is playing.
Fast forward to 0815 hrs. My head... why, never again. Right, get up and take breakfast before the conference, or grab another quick 30. Breakfast is overrated...
OK, so where’s the flipping run Ringo? We've read through this twaddle to learn about Gothenburg? OK, I feel bad, come with me, it’s late afternoon. I’ll walk around the city, grab some fresh air and take a couple of snaps for you...
Where to next? This year has started in a crazy way for travel. I’m busier than a Baghdad brickie.
Mark stands, “Long may it continue!”
So, where next? I’m now completing an extended 6-week road trip in East Africa, but to places, I’ve covered before. In fact, I’m on my way home from the last leg, in Jo’Burg, where I stayed with my old friend, ‘Lifeline’. This post is completed today on the Kenya Scareways flight. No retakes.
For long-term readers, ‘Lifeline’ is a 4-time guest runner (Harare, Bulawayo, Vic Falls & Jo’Burg) back in the summer of 2014 in the early days of the blog. The best road trip of my life. Great memories (photo after the Vic Falls half marathon).
Come on, for the love of Friday, where to next!?
Mark stands, clears throat, the big one, the one I’ve always wanted, raise your glasses, “LAGOS.” That’s right, Nigeria.
Thank you for reading this blog. I have a favour to ask, if you have enjoyed it, please add a comment below.
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