Continuing the cycle from Tbilisi to Baku, from the border of Azerbaijan. Things become increasingly dry and arid as I head east, ultimately crossing a desert to reach Baku.
Those last days in Georgia.
You might not be able to find what you need in a shop, advertised anywhere or on the internet, but somewhere, somebody “knows a guy.”
3 nights, 4 days and 0 showers later I majestically cycled down the hill to Tbilisi, sunburnt, smeared head to toe in a shiny, grit-covered, suncreamy goop.
There’s a fine line between someone looking at you out of curiosity and that of an imposter. I’m quite used to the first by now, but here in Armenia there seems to be a lot of suspicion about who I am and what I’m doing here.