| GENERAL INFO (Jump to Diary) Georgia covers an area of 69.700 square kilometre. It is a unitary semi-presidential constitutional republic with 3.720.400 citizens. 87% are Christians while 11% are Muslims. Their currency is Georgian lari (GEL), which is worth 2,89 Danish Krone and €0,39. The GDP is US$14.46 billion. The climate
of Georgia is extremely diverse, considering the nation's small size. There
are two main climatic zones, roughly corresponding to the eastern and
western parts of the country. The Greater Caucasus Mountain Range plays an
important role in moderating Georgia's climate and protects the nation from
the penetration of colder air masses from the north. The Lesser Caucasus
Mountains partially protect the region from the influence of dry and hot air
masses from the south.
DIARY
We find a taxi and drive into the tourist quarter of
Tbilisi, to find
a hotel. It is around five in the morning. Despite the town is completely quiet, all hotels seems to be fully
booked. It is getting light, and we figure; we can do without a room. A short
walk through the really idyllic old town brings us down to the river and an
open restaurant, serving beer to the late guests. We get tea and local
specialities; Khachhapuri Imerectian;Flat bread with cheese in, and Flurkey
Lobiani; a bread with bean paste.
As the sun raises over the old churches and the castle, the city slowly wakes up. My travel companion is Steffen, a great Dane, who have been here several times. He show me some of the iconic buildings along the river front. Ancient churches with icons, insane new constructions, only to please the eye, houses partly tern down by earthquakes, overgrown brick homes, many beautiful bronze statues and much more. But; we are here to work, and finally, we have to take a taxi to the co-operators factory site at nine. I get the grand tour and some refreshments, while I book some rooms for the evening. I forget to find the GPS points - a real error! Then we pinch a car, and go sightseeing in the greater area. No sense in driving 5-6 hours up to Ambrolauri and beyond without suitcases. The car is right handled although they also drive in the right side. And NO; two rights do not make it right!
The first stop is a 100 hectare tree nursery. As they
only speak Georgian
A friend of our recommended the "nearby" David Gareji
monastery. It is only 65 kilometres south. However, the road start out real
bad within the capital, and then it get real challenging. Potholes, rocks and trails.
The landscape, on the other hand, get more
As we approaches our target; David Gareji monastery, we have to pull aside for huge tourist
buses - which seems so out of place, out here in the rural hills and narrow
gravel road. The old
parts of the monastery is caves, cut into the sandstone, the newer ones are made of
the local sandstone. We see the buildings and the clever rain-gathering
system along with an agama. It is get The first part of the road is just as bad, and then we are pulled over by a soldier in the middle of nowhere. Something about shooting. We wait on the gravel road for an hour, not hearing a single fire cracker. When we then head towards Tbilisi, the trail is getting better and better - although they never get real good. We passes a huge industrial area with a bull statue, some larks and sparrows and a lot of yellow grass.
The airport have out luggage waiting, and while I get the
company phone from my suitcase,
It has been a long day - or actually two, and I am longing for a room with bed and shower. But it turns out to be real tricky finding the hotels by their addresses in Tbilisi. They use their own letters in Georgia, and many streets have been renamed. We try the name of the hotel in the GPS, and a intense drive through rush-hour Tbilisi, brings us to Royal Hotel - which is NOT Royal Georgian Hotel. It have turned black, but with internet help, I find some coordinates in another part of town.
I think we are there, but when we ask four taxi-drivers,
they don't know We head down towards the river and find a nice restaurant. Then at nine, we head back to our hotels, and I start on diary, photos, accounting and repacking. And then a couple of hours sleeping...
15/9
Gori is a bigger city we passes, then it turn real rural.
The road narrows down, and the first trucks start to show down the rest of
the traffic. One minibus have
a entire haystack on the roof, while most cars look rather familiar.
The shops along the road sell
We pass two passes, one offering a great view to the
lowlands. Where we started on the yellow plain, it is now dense beech, oak
and other leaf-trees which dominates. Some of the beech forests look so much
like the Danish. Further up, the conifers take over. On the top, the dark
Abies completely dominates.
The top of the mountains here are limestone, which have
vertical walls at the very top. Way behind them, even higher chains of
mountains have some snow on their peaks. We are in good time, and the driver
of the day; Steffen, give me the scenic tour around the valley. Despite the
roads was washed away years ago, the houses are quite big and well fenced in
by iron walls. Many houses are made of heavy timber.
The entire valley and the sides are one big grit of minor trails, one more destroyed than the next. Amazingly enough, my GPS recognises most of these gravel trails. Never the less, I fear driving around here by my self, finding the teams and back home. I have no problem with the destroyed trails, the river crossings and the 45 degree climbs, but navigating and remembering where which location actually is, might cause me problems in the beginning.
We find the scattered houses, known as the village of Ukeshi, and the drying barn we are going to fill. We are
Steffen walks back to the barn and the crew in the dark,
while I process pictures and write diary. The day was full sun and above 30
degree, but in the evening, temperature drops to 24C, and I find my fleece
jacket.
16/9 After breakfast, we head out to the barn to
meet some more people. I'm dispatched to Shota, and we head out to sector 17
and meet up with a lot of pickers
As the pickers
As we wait for the first bags to be filled, I botanises a
bit. Here are quite some interesting plants, some familiar like the
succulents, other
We meet up with Steffen at a well, and I head home for a
short lunch brake with him. Steffen hear what he believe to be bee-eaters,
and despite they are real high up, he is right! Then we head out to some of
his sections, and start putting seals on the filled bags. Origin is
essential, and at the same time, we supervise
the safety and ecological impact.
After some time, I get to drive, and the path demands
attention. Some have been ploughed up by 6X6 trucks, carrying out dead
stems, others have been altered significantly
by
the melting snow and springs rain. As we try to locate one brigade,
As it darkens, we head back to the barn to receive the
bags, and to my big surprise; I actually find my way back!. The seals are
checked, and all the bags get weighted. Our kitchen does not have any cooking items, but it does have a nice feature; Dinner appears hot and delicious every evening. It is Madonna, one of the local women, who cooks for us. I skip the chicken, but the local cheese and bread, along with home-grown tomatoes and cucumbers with a dash of mayonnaise, make up a tasty meal.
17/9 As we saw in the capital,
One young man, working alone is way out of the area, he
thought was signed to. He had been picking for quite some time, and the ground is
covered in cones. Unfortunately, we do not harvest here, and the cones have
to be abandon. I feel really sorry for him, but he should had paid better
attention. Another brigade is experienced people, and it is astonishing to
see, how it hails with cones in their area.
We grab a fast lunch at two, mainly because we were out of seals, and I had to return anyway. I take over the driving, and try to remember the trails and where the brigades are - although that changes. The group we missed yesterday have marked their trail, and despite that, I have a hard time recognising that as a trail: Overgrown, steep and rough, but is does lead to an area with rich trees.
While we work, there are time to enjoy the nature with
all the migrating birds. Here are numerous predator birds, herons, willy-wagtails
and bee-eaters. The tiger stripes cows fascinates me;
At dusk, we head back to the barn to receive the cones. Each brigade's bags are weighted and places on the shelf of the drying barn. The last arrival late in the pitch darkness. We head home to find a lack of warm food. Apparently, Madonna is taking the Sunday off. As a compensation, we get a bottle of the local moonshine; cha-cha. It is strong!
One general and rather dominating factor in this line of
work, is the resin. This sticky stuff is everywhere, and hard to get rite of
- unless you use petrol. Another thing is the languish used. I speak
18/9 I get to fly solo, and I have four brigades,
divided into two sectors. As I prepare bags and seals, I get to make a
deep incision in my index finger. While I cut a thick string, the plastic
Stanley knife give in, and I start bleeding. They treat me with both H2O2 and
iodine, and as I keep bleeding, they try tobacco. I drive of dripping, just
to
Despite I drive straight to the right places (to my big surprise), I fail to find the first three groups. Only the forth is in place, but here I loose the review mirror to a branch. I spend most of the day locating the rest of my men. It turns out; one group stayed home, as the boss' pig had died. Another had car-problems and Steffen had nicked the third group for his area. Never the less, he advises me to walk around, and shout for them all!
In a attempt to find the
I head back to the village for lunch, and then I nick a brigade from Shota, and those with car-issues turns up. The afternoon is spend supervising my brigades and sealing their bags. I drive back to the barn a bit early, but the lack of men made the day a bit dull. I monitor the unloading and weighting of the filled cone-bags till nine o'clock, and head home for a well deserved meal, prepared by Madonna. I postponed the investigation of my finger till morning. I'm finishing work at a bit passed ten, leaving me with a feeling of missing something? The work continues in Diary 2 |
an a bit of Russian, it take some time explaining
to them; we are
not customers, we want to sell them more seeds. Then Steffen mention our
business partner (who is former minister, banker, oligarchs, whatever), and then
we get the grand tour. And with grand, I mean GRAND! The local geek and the
one I brought, exchange Latin names like machineguns. I just chat a bit with
the daughter and make a few photos.
and more astonishing. Roaming
hills with yellow grass and scatted cows, sunflower fields and harvested
wheat. A few bushes, but mainly the dead grass and barren sandstone. At one
point, we passes a salt lake, but here are no flamingos. The GPS
had a optimistic 90 minutes estimate, but the views and condition of the road make it
last three hours. 
ting late in the afternoon, and we figure, we
better
head back to ask for our luggage.
I return to the counter to get it up and
running. The girl who sold me the SIM-card in the early morning, said android was way more tricky
than my Apple. I spend an hour, but apparently, the phone is locked by a
Danish operator.
the hotel. I find a street-name and the right number, then
the nametag - 20 meters away from them. They only had one room, but the other
hotel is close
bye. I give up, find the computer and are lucky; two young men, who speak
English, stop and help. They are borne in the area, but don't know the place.
It turns out to be right next to their old school, 50 metre away. I am so
glad I have bothered finding GPS points for hundreds of sights and hotels
for my future travelling! Addresses are useless!
Despite the lack of sleep, and the demanding
driving, I don't sleep as good as I hoped. At nine, I meet up with Steffen,
and head out of town towards Ambrolauri. It is a perfect highway, and we are
out on the countryside quite soon. A pit-stop at a supermarket to stock food
and water, and later to get breakfast. The mountains get bigger, and we
drive through some in long tunnels. In one area, the air is filled with
kites, buzzards and vultures.
watermelons for ten kilometres, then hammocks,
birdsnests and beach-chairs for another ten kilometre stretches. Then it is bread,
followed by pottery and honey. The characteristic cross shaped churches are
everywhere, some dating 1000 years back - or more.
cows, three pigs or 30 turkeys. 
supposed to collect
hundreds of ton of cones within the next 14 days, with the help of some 70 locals.
Next to the barn is a metal house, filled with ropes, brand new climbing
harness and other safety gear. Here, we also find the tractor-like tires for
our 4WD. We put them on, and head back to the huge house, we have rented. A
local woman have made us fried potatoes, and they are served with local
nice fresh cheese and tasty tomatoes.
and collectors. Some arriving by city cars (goods know how!), one on horse
and others by ancient tractors and old Soviet 4X4s. The pickers get a course
in the safety harness and the way we want them to pick the cones. It might
be tempting not to use the line, or brake off entire branches, but then you
will have to find another job. Safety first, and it is actually more
efficient to be able to pick with both hands. You can reach the individual
cones, and leave the branches with next year cones, on the tree. Then each
picker sign their contracts, and head out to their designated sectors.
start to harvest, I desperately try to
capture them with my camera. Then we head out to another brigade, harvesting
in another area. It is on spoiled trails, rivers, knee-deep mud and right
through the steep forest-slopes.
The ponds on the road, down to one meter in diameter, have attracted lots of
frogs, and I even see some tadpoles. The first part is in the valley, which was
flooded earlier this summer. Now, it is nice grassing for the many cows.
Most of these gentle creatures, have loud bells around their necks.
strange cousins to
elder and thistles. The younger Christmas trees, growing underneath the huge
ones, seems to grow extremely slow: Here, it seems like two centimetres is
the average, while those in the sun can manage 30 or more each year.
We get a few samples of the top branches
to estimate next years harvest. It seems like it have been an extreme dry
summer. The spring buds have only grown to half size, and are strangely
light green.
we meet
up with some other pickers in-between two sectors. Steffen ask, if they work
for the other company, having the other sector, and they say yes. But the
placement of their bags with cones, and the broken-off branches indicate
they have been in our section. One is wearing our company's coat, another is
picking at the other section, but without any safety line. Apparently, they
are pirates, and when I pull out my camera, they get busy.
Then they are placed after origin in
the drying barn. As the sun disappear, the temperature drops, and the birds
are replaced with bats. I let Steffen handle the last loads, while I return
to work with diary and photos.
Georgians are slow
starters. On the other hand, they do work until real late. That give me a
chance to catch up with my banking and other accountings, before me meet in.
could be fun turning
up with one at the local Danish farm-show. Some wild pears look like some I loves
as a child - but these are immensely sour! 
Danish
with Steffen, English with Shota, German with Levan, some Russian with some
of the pickers and NOT Georgian with the rest. At least, they are real good
at sign-languish, and we get along fine, probably because they have a lot of
humour. 
avoid further treatment.
group with the dead pig, I get a
long drive up the slope. It is ruined by the 6X6 trucks, puling dead stems
out, and the melting-water. Quite nice to maintain/train my ability to drive in
rough terrain. I might not find them, but here are some interesting flowers
in the clearings, and I even find a young adder.