The March to Tbilisi

Another sleepless night, first at dinner, then at tea, then waiting for my plane; I dare say DemiDec is good practice for travel in Turkey.

At this very moment, I'm at Morat's place--Morat is a Turkish innkeeper who makes a wicked apple tea--checking e-mail while waiting for my 5 am shuttle to the Istanbul airport, from which I will fly to Trabazon. In Trabazon, Sasha plans to meet me at the Georgian consulate. Last time we visited a consulate or embassy together, in Venezuela, I suffered a concussion, and have never looked at ceiling beams the same way since.

Estimated time to get Georgian visas: about two hours. This evening we should cross the Turkish-Georgia border. Karen has opted out of this phase of the trip, and is headed instead to see some lunar landscapes in Central Turkey. At dinner, a local Internet millionaire--referred to as Mr. Gates by most folks at the restaurant, though only jokingly, I presume--took a liking to me, or at least to my cap, and paid for my fish dinner. Karen's, too.

Fended off an avid shoe polisher and a determined rug salesman today as well.