K25&beyond d20 – Kunming with Efan, Leo, Tony (6.9.25)

Can you see what I only saw when Tony pointed it out1?

We met at the Green Lake, and I’d been there before, so I went to an outdoor gym. There, you mostly meet older people, some doing interesting movements like constantly hitting themselves or making very small movements where it’s unclear what they’re training. But there are also very active people using all kinds of equipment, playing badminton, or doing movements that, in my ignorance I call Tai Chi. It wasn’t too hot and not too humid, but I still only did what I could without sweating.

We wandered around, and Efan cold tell a lot about plants, culture, and the connections between them. A boat tour rounded off our visit to the park, and lunch was next on the agenda.
We ate hot soup in very hot pots and were given plates with various dishes we could add, alltogether called “bridge rice noodles”. Efan told us a nice story about the invention of this dish, and I hope I made a decent video clip of it. (later on youtube, only with link)

we disappeared before the seller got out of his confusion

Afterwards, we strolled through the pedestrian zone in the city center, tasting and seeing this and that. (The photos should show a bit this and that.)

I got the impression that forestry students are particularly busy doing laundry
  1. Those pillars are missiles ↩︎

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K25&beyond d19 – Chengdu to Kunming (5.9.25)

Breakfast was more than I could handle. I tried to try at least 20%.

I was relaxed because I knew the way to the train station, there were fewer checkpoints, and everything was easier than in Urumqi.

The gates opened late, and the crowds and officials were nervous – even more rush than normal.
It only started to rain when the train already had departed. I didn’t need my lost all-weather jacket.

7 hours to Kunming!

Efan had asked for my arrival time because she wanted to pick me up. I had sent her the time but not the date, and that would have reduced the confusion because:
I had told Efan that I wanted to arrive a day earlier to be on the safe side in case there were train problems or something.
To understand what I had actually done back then, I’ll give an example that might explain it:

For the Wiener Tafel (now “foodbank Austria”), I’m allowed to look for products with expiration dates for Saturday in a certain supermarket, but also for Sunday, because they can’t be sold on Monday either. So, it could be September 6th and 7th, for example. You find many items that expire on the 10th or 9th, and after a while, I’m happy to find the 8th, and sonn  8 becomes the new 7 for me.
Since I’ve been doing this for many years, I’m already familiar with this phenomenon and constantly check the date on my watch to avoid making a mistake.

I suspect that on the day of arrival, it was the other way around, with Saturday becoming my “new Sunday”, and Friday thus meant arriving one day earlier.

Another possible explanation is my difficulty correctly entering night trains and overnight stays into my itinerary Excel spreadsheet with daily data. This is another clear indication that day trips should be my future level of travel (at least without a guard or assistance).

Anyway, the train arrived and didn’t know where to meet Efan, as there was a north and a south exit. My phone was having a WeChat issue, and I thought Efan hadn’t received my last messages. (And Efan, who was expecting me a day later, had received too many messages from other tour participants and hadn’t seen mine in time.) So, I set off on foot to Southwest Forestry University, where Efan and her father had organized our group’s stay in the campus dormitory. Efan had also created a WeChat group with all of us, and I was able to connect with Leo, Efan’s partner. The campus isn’t big, but vast, a city in itself. Therefore, finding the right entrance and meeting point wasn’t easy.
Ben, Efan’s father, Tony, her cousin, and Leo had gone to all the gates to inform all the porters of my possible arrival. Along the way, I received messages from Efan and Leo, who were doing their best to manage the situation. I arrived, sent Leo a photo of the gate, and they would come.
And a few seconds later, I heard my name, and it was Efan from the other side! Then the others arrived, and together we entered the campus. We came to a large cafeteria where Leo’s food was waiting, because they had immediately responded to my message without eating.

Efan even had her welcome present bag with her. I’m still trying to figure out why we all received gifts from her – even more at the end of this incredible journey together than at the beginning.

With a little help, I learned how to order food, but I forgot to check the spice level. Let’s see if I can say “lesson learned” later (spoiler: mostly yes, again with help – thanks Efan!!). It was clear to me that I would definitely finish those hot noodles, but I had to buy myself a drink so my suffering wouldn’t be too obvious. When I returned, the noodle problem had almost disappeared. Leo and Efan had taken care of it…

After dinner, we went to the dorm, where Ben had already prepared everything for my early arrival.
With a little help I learnt to order food but had forgotten to care of the spiciness factor. We will see if I later can say “lesson learned”. For me it was clear that I would eat those noodles up no matter what, but I needed to buy a drink so that my suffering would not be too obvious. When I came back the noddle issue was reduced near to zero. Leo and Efan had dealt with it…
After dinner we went to the dorm where Ben also already had arranged everything according to me early arrival.

no photos of the reunion available, serious mistake, irreparable!!

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K25&beyond d18 – arrival in Chengdu (4.9.25

The night was okay. And daylight revealed a green hilly and mountainous landscape. You can see rivers that look pretty pristine and very small cornfields, sometimes perhaps less than 10 x 10 meters. (Sadly, corn is grown primarily to feed pigs, which means 80–90 square meters are wasted compared to eating the corn directly.)

Yesterday, I wanted to give the family something as a small gift, but no one dared to touch it or even eat it. And today, I saw it in the trash along with other opened food.
Along with the fruit, they had eaten a lot of triple-wrapped, food-like chemicals.

A four-year-old girl visited Lin. Lin, a brilliant dancer, performed one piece after another, and the other girl copied the moves. It was funny and they had a great time.
But then Lin’s mother was on the phone, and after that call, the situation changed. They argued about Lin’s stuffed monster, both of them crying violently, and even after the girl was gone, Lin didn’t calm down. When she saw her later in the hallway, her bitter face showed that she was far from finished with her.

But just before arrival, the mother came with the girl and said something, and the girl repeated it. Lin then gave her a small plastic dinosaur, and they hugged each other twice before saying goodbye. And we all did that and left the train in different directions.

My direction was Metro 4, but only on the surface. Along the way, I had time to consider whether I was brave when walking or whether it would be braver to take on the challenges of public transportation. I also wanted to use my “washing machine”, and the humidity suggested I should arrive early. According to the app, walking would have taken me 4 hours and 30 minutes, so I opted for Metro 7, which cut two-thirds of the route and the time between Chengdu West and South Station.
Using only one metro at least saves me from having to change lines and buy a ticket for both lines. A good compromise between different levels of bravery and good time management.

The ticket purchase was available in English and admittedly made sense. I used the taxi change as an excuse to pay in cash, but who knows—maybe I could have even managed Alipay?!

Along the way, I improved my Chinese reading skills from 2015, when I had used the metro much more excessively, including transfers (!). Back then, I learned the character for “gate.” = 门 This time it was “avenue,” which actually requires two characters—”big” and “street.” = 大街 The most important criterion for me to judge a hotel as high-end is a bedside lamp. I often had to walk to the door, turn off the light, and cross the dark room to get to bed. Okay, these days you always have that flashlight with a phone function, it’s easy to find your bed. But you can’t read a book there. Anyway, it was a high-end hotel.
I chose a place for eating, or rather, the owner chose me by saying a few English words in my direction – enough advertisment.
He had about 25 different dishes, and I smelled that most of them would be too spicy, but he showed me mild versions that were also herbal. And then he showed me an interesting, translated message on his phone: “Don’t waste it.” I don’t know if this was just a corrupted translation or he indeed was worried.
So I only put as much on my plate as I could eat.
Then I saw customers take at least double the portion, and others get a second portion, but everyone ended up leaving a ton of food on their plates. I’m sure the translation should have been, “Take as much as you want, we’re glad this crap is gone.”

Exactly one – this one – non-Chinese book in the hotel’s book collection. I hope “someone” likes that!

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K25&beyond d17 – Urumqi to Chengdu (3.9.25)

My morning started around 0:30 a.m. This must be jet lag, as I usually wake up between 5 and 6 a.m., which would almost fit the 4-hour time difference to Armenia. I’m just wondering if, after 4 hours of poor sleep because of my neighbour and 1-2 hours of sleep on the plane the night before, shouldn’t that be a reason to sleep a little longer?
I know it is just my nervous brain starting to work but at first, I only had one reason to be a little nervous: the way to the train station. I can’t (anymore) rely on my sense of direction, but later I found a better reason to remain sleepless:
I had left my high-quality Löffler outdoor jacket on the plane!
I remembered being nervous about not leaving anything in the net in front of my seat (like on my last trip some earplugs) and then I completely forgot to check my seat.

My decision was quick and clear:
Give up traveling, you can’t do it, everyday life is more than enough for you.
(Spoiler: The list of lost or forgotten items on the Yunnan would have been longer if all of Grandpa’s friends hadn’t taken care of him.)

I wanted to leave the hostel at 6:45 a.m., but couldn’t wait any longer, so I left at 6 a.m.

The walk to the train station was easy (I had practiced in the hostel with various maps, and now, with amap working on my phone, I could even try to find my way and didn’t need any corrections, just confirmation).

At the station, a police officer saw me staring helplessly at the screen and showed me the way (I had starred at the arrivals, for departures there are other entries). Then, one last time, I saw a reason to get a little nervous: there were ticket scanning machines, and I had nothing to scan. Because of this internet problem, I hadn’t even found my online ticket, only something about the train. But an officer helped me; there was a ticket counter for people like me.
At 7 a.m., long lines already had formed in front of me (the gates open at 7:30 a.m.). And the lines behind me got even longer. And when the gates opened after another ID check, people rushed to the trains as if only 50% of them would get a seat.

Before I could enter, the conductor apparently asked for my passport, but without any visible indication, and I had no idea (why again?!). So, he confirmed his request by repeating it louder and louder. This helped, and I wanted to give him whatever he wanted; luckily, I started my trial&error experiment with my passport.
Seeing I was a bit stupid, he showed me three fingers and showed me the way in. It was clear to me that I had to go to compartment 3. After a while, the conductor came and now knew he had to use his loudest Chinese:
You’re in the wrong compartment, I told you: number 3!” (Maybe he even said more.) And then it was clear that “3” meant bed 3 in compartment 1.

Aspects of these compartments in general:
They smell like my father’s apartment (originally my grandparents’), where my grandfather tried to turn everything yellowish-brown by smoking there constantly for about 50 years. There’s always someone smoking in the hallway, and even with children, people don’t close the doors to protect them.
The beds are longer than I know from Europe.
And there’s a silvery, shallow bowl. I was afraid it was for spitting, but people throw garbage in it. Still, you can constantly hear the sound of someone clearing their throat with a dedication that sounds like a cross between vomiting and simply dying.

In compartment 1, grandparents with a 5y old girl, Lin, and another man were already sitting. Shortly after departure, Lin offered me some grapes (they tasted great but aditionally had the taste of train water from the washing). The grandparents were very kind and friendly to her, and Lin was still more on the side of cute than spoiled. (Grandpa had to suffer a bit, but he remained patient.) She and her grandmother kept offering me things, and they were very tasty and sometimes delicious, sometimes too spicy for me.
For lack of other things, I offered them a church-churchula from Georgia, but they quickly made it disappear and later it was in the trash.
Then Grandpa opened a bottle to offer me something, maybe kerosene or petroleum?

I texted on my phone in my best Chinese that it was very kind, but I don’t drink alcohol, which, however, motivated him even more. Now I couldn’t say no without ruining the situation. He and the other man (not his son, but they didn’t declare their relationship) drank whole cups and wanted to toast every now and then. I tried to find the right amount of that surgical spirit to put in my mouth with only that level of disgust that can be disguised as surprise and impression about the strong taste of that liquor.
But then they stopped drinking, and after a while, the younger man showed me a translation on his phone:
Culturally, they are not allowed to refill their cups until everyone has finished.
But now refaced Grandpa finally found a solution, and they shared my portion and were able to continue.

Restrooms are a sensitive matter (for me) in many ways, but I must tell you about this one:
There were some objects that were a mystery to me. One of them was a ladle, and since I couldn’t find any other way to flush, except—perhaps—a pair of long tongs leaning in the corner that reminded me of a fire pit (but: how? And: why?), I tried the ladle. Let’s just say it didn’t work. I was about to give up and go to my official friend to ruin my reputation completely when I found the saving button where I wasn’t expecting it, and off I went.

The landscape had barely changed in the past nine hours. Every time it started to get a little green, it soon returned to rocky desert. But now it seems to be done, with trees appearing and even some farmland.

Currently, Grandpa and Lin shared a cot, and he was good at snoring, which she didn’t like. So, she woke him up or remodeled his face, or asked for another cartoon on the phone. He remains patient and – snoring.

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K25&beyond d16 – arrival in Urumqi (2.9.25)

The flight was like flights are, at least for me:
Falling asleep when the drinks arrived, again falling asleep, but now it’s time for food (dinner two hours after midnight), falling asleep, and then an announcement, etc.
My planned walk to the hostel was a flop:
My e-SIM didn’t work, so I had no location, no maps, no digital money, etc.
I tried to leave the airport and half an hour later I found a way out of the building because the only official options were “taxi,” “bus,” “sightseeing buses,” etc.

Outside, all I found was a pedestrian path that circled halfway around the airport, but no exit. Only some layers of highways completely enclosed the area. It took an hour of walking before I could accept that I was trapped and, after flying instead of trains, also would take a taxi instead of walking to the city.
It was hard to find an official entry to the airport for pedestrians, but ended up running back where I had escaped to sneak in. Without asking (offline translator is helpful!), I wouldn’t have found a way to exchange money, an ATM tucked away in a corner.
With some cash, I went to the taxi stand and found a driver who spoke very fluent Chinese. She was convinced that by speaking more, louder, and a little slower I would learn something. The hostel booking was done through Gmail. Gmail loves the internet, but my e-SIM card ignored us.
Luckily, I had written all the addresses in a notebook, but not in Chinese.

sooooooooooooooooooooooosaöööööööö
(the last line was one of those emerging when I fell asleep during writing)

But truly luckily, I also had made PDFs of bookings on my laptop and also stored them on my phone. So I coukkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk – (Sorry!)

showed it to the driver. And she left the airport via 2,4km long tunnel. As I pedestrian I woujjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjhave been stopped fast (cameras everywhere).
After a while she stopped but it was the train sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss,wwwwwtion.

She realised her mistake and found it funny. At the right address, someone told her to drive down to the garage and after driving around for a while she found a sign for Yunbo hostel, but the door was locked.

I finally wanted to send her away because the taxi counter was still running. She wanted to get the money via Alipay which didn’t work but instead of giving me a hotspot she just complained (in fluent and loud Chinese). I offered her my 100y but she had not enough cash to give me the change. She wanted to send me the change via Alipay…

I found a way from the garage to the elevator and to the hostel. Check-in was done in a “moment” (read: an hour). At the hostel, when I got Wi-Fi, my e-SIM also decided to work.
My 8-bed room seemed currently empty. I wanted to take a short nap before meeting Ben, but the moment I fell asleep, someone in another booth started a phone call. Every time I hoped he was finished, there was only a long explanation from the other end, and his reply woke me up again. I gave up.

Ben had been in Sydney, where he had met Efan, and he had to stay in Urumqi longer than me for some meetings, otherwise we might have travelled together to Kunming (finally he couldn’t come at all).

He took me on a lovely sightseeing tour, which began with an overwhelming start at a restaurant. He ordered too much, and I ate so much that I felt sick and knew I had to stop before I would cause my worst lunch disaster ever. So, one plate went uneaten.

We went to Hongshan Mountain, a hill overlooking the city, where you could find even more of these women in traditional clothing. There are two groups who wear this:
Women promoting restaurants or dance performances, and tourists.
I’m not sure what to make of this, considering that tradition is intertwined with religion, and religion is a sensitive topic there…

Ben ordered a taxi to take me to the hostel and then him to the train station, but again we ended up at the “magnetic” train station 😊. That meant leaving the taxi and ordering a new one, the app wants it like that.

My 8-bed dorm seemed currently empty. (We’ve been through this before, so you can imagine what happened next.) I was getting ready for bed, and that guy called again! I was starting to hate his girlfriend because every short reply from him was followed by a minute of silence on his and apparently a new torrent of words on her side. Enough to almost fall asleep and then jolt me awake again.
I tried to keep writing for a while, but it was very hard when you want to produce more than the chains of letters like the one above.

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K25&beyond d15 – not only time flies (1.9.25)

Yes…

My plan was to visit Iran twice, first just in transit (and then via Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and Kazakhstan to enter China from Almaty to Urumqi). A multiple-entry visa would have allowed me to re-enter and visit my friends. However, if you still want to go to China, not having an Iranian visa definitely means flying, because Russia is out of the question, and crossing Azerbaijan by land is also impossible. (I even got a second passport for Azerbaijan to avoid arguments about the Armenian visa, but it remained impossible.) From Yerevan, I thought I could just take a shorter flight to Uzbekistan or Kazakhstan, but there are no direct flights there, and Urumqi is, surprisingly, the only (and direct) flight from Yerevan to China.

We went for a another nice walk and another delicious lunch at another beautiful spot, and then things got serious.

We didn’t just have “another” dinner; it was a farewell dinner, and the walk home was meant to collect my luggage and say goodbye. Then a taxi, airport, check-in, surrounded by a mix of Armenian and Chinese passengers. I saw a woman crying outside the queue, holding a dog, and two girls holding the cage. The tears were for the dog, and the dog, perhaps, for the girls, but I would have expected additional emotions between the mother (?) and daughters (?). Maybe they were just professional dog walkers, and the dog moved to China and left its owner?

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K25&beyond d14 Sunday in Yerevan

For a while, I wasn’t sure what to do with the lost bag. It was part of a set, and some of the items in it were precious to me. Finally, I decided to ask the landlady to send it to Vienna. Her response was quick and somewhat rude. She told me I should have contacted them earlier, as they didn’t have enough space for lost luggage and had therefore thrown it away.
The effort of writing this friendly explanation was greater than telling me, “You forgot something!”
Should I have given the apartment more than 7 points, and this was her revenge?

“The Czech Marlenka is based on an old Armenian family recipe that the Armenian Georg Avetisyan brought to the Czech Republic in 1995. In Frýdek-Místek, with the help of his sister, he created the delicious cake, which he named after his mother and daughter. In other Eastern European countries, however, the delicacy remains known as “Medownik” (Russian: Медовик).”
here:
Marlenka back in Yerevan 😉

We met up with Liana, who had been in Vienna in 2014 with Hasmik and a third friend from Georgia. Now she’s also a young mother, and we went to a café where her husband, an artist, also has his studio.

Later that afternoon, I visited Davo. I know him from my 2018 bike tour, when I was just about to leave Yerevan but ended up in a small alley where only a flight of stairs led to the main road I had to take into Iran. He helped me find my way around but invited me to his home beforehand. We’ve stayed in touch ever since, and I visited him again in 2022. His older son is only six now, but Davo told me he remembered me as the man who spoke English with him. Davo gave me a long lecture on Armenian history, interspersed with some stories that weren’t entirely true, so I had to reread the things I wanted to believe.

The evening conversation at home was shorter this time but no less intense, because you generally tire quickly with a lively baby, but tomorrow Matth has to go to school (as a teacher).
My students have to go too.
I won’t.
On Monday, September 1st, my sabbatical really begins!

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K25&beyond d13 Saturday in Yerevan

It was hard for me to accept it, but I had left one of my travel bags in Batumi. The one with my underwear. Carefully selected travel underwear, some organic cotton, some that stuff for more demanding outdoor situations.
So we went for a morning walk with the specific goal of replacing my unique collection with Armenian underwear in a worthy manner.

A second highlight of the day, which could certainly keep up with this procurement campaign, was a picnic with an Iranian couple. We chatted about this and that.
But also, about that….
I don’t want to go into detail, because I couldn’t reproduce what I heard about the harsh situation of the Iranians here in its entirety anyway.

The evening ended with a new edition of in-depth discussions

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K25&beyond d12 – Arrival in Yerevan

The train was delayed because the border control had taken so long. I had planned to walk, but I wanted to be on time for Hasmik, Matth, and Kai. So I at least listened to the taxi driver, who offered me a ride and would accept €, $, Rubel, and everything else. But when he was convinced that a ride to the center would be 10€, straight, I was convinced that I would walk, straight.

After a walk, a detour, and entering the wrong house, I finally met Hasmik again, met Kai (15 months), and Alice, the dog. Hasmik and I continued our conversation as if there hadn’t been a six-year hiatus.

And when Matth finally arrived, it was fun to see how our connection through Hasmik resulted in a shortcut to friendship

Hasmik had chosen a nice restaurant for dinner, and we chose some very good food there. I ended the meal with my worst dining disaster ever:
I was drinking something with a straw, and behind it was the last plate I was about to empty. I lifted the plate high enough to hold it over the glass, but not high enough for the straw. I had enough herbal lemonade left over to make quite a mess, so the tablecloth and the velvet upholstery of the bench got their share, and there was still more than enough left for my pants. I looked like an old man with an issue with a random liquid, and not even a sign saying “No, it’s just herbal lemonade!” could not have given me back as much dignity as I never thought I needed so urgently.

Even cleaning the seat didn’t work without leaving traces of my misfortune, and I had no plan B for how to leave the restaurant. One aspect of traveling and modern clothing was helpful now: you have the quick-drying fabrics of this outdoor clothing, which you also choose for adventures in the urban jungle. So, hidden behind Matth and hidden by the dark cloak of my first night in Yerevan of this year, I was able to head home with the others.

And even later was the night when we stopped solving all the problems and puzzles the world has to offer, knowing we could take care of the rest the next evening.

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K25&beyond d11 – Batumi –> Tbilisi –> Yerevan

Early in the morning, I said goodbye to Mariam, and she gave me a bag of food from last night’s feast.
“As always,” I had decided to walk to the train station instead of taking a taxi or the bus. I admit: the explanation I give next is only half the truth. The other half is that I find it difficult to find the right bus (metro, etc.), to get off at the right stop, and to pay in a foreign currency.
But it is also true that I prefer walking. I try to get a feel for a city by walking through residential areas, and it’s also a kind of physical exercise.

The train station is quite far from the center of Batumi. The station building, while somewhat imposing, is closed; people walk around the station to get to the platforms.

At first, the route runs along construction sites, dozens of tall buildings. I wonder if they are for tourists seeking the uniformity of tourist locations, or for citizens. Either way, it’s clearly too much. I’d seen enough half-finished and then abandoned skyscrapers with promising renderings featuring swimming pools and other must-haves, regardless of the city, beach, or country they were in.

In a way, this uniformity reminds me of Vienna, too. In my memory, Kärntner Street once had a character I could associate with Vienna. Those old shops had given way to the same mid-/upscale flagship stores that most tourists know from home—and yet they seem to be buying enough to cover those incredible retail rents that have ruined long-established businesses.

Outside of Batumi, it quickly turned green. Intense green! I thought it was funny to see banana trees with ivy climbing up – combining warm and cool climate. But I couldn’t take any photos because I was sitting against the direction of travel and always missed the right moment.

There’s no need to queue at Café Central in Vienna.

In Tbilisi, I walked around, went to a restaurant, kept walking, sat in a park, walked through the market district, and back to the train station to end my eight-hour wait.

I had saved a last Lari in cash for later in the bathroom, but it was closed 5min before I really would have liked going there.

A couple with a baby, a nanny, and a lot of luggage had arrived. The man sat opposite me and tried to open a blister pack of batteries. After a while, I offered him my scissors, and we found we could converse in German. They had decided to sell their London apartment, keeping just their New York apartment as a backup and now simply travel around the globe. They could both work from anywhere because they’re “into crypto.”
I couldn’t end the conversation at that point, but I wanted to.

His wife somehow helped me by “insisting (her words) to go to the platform now,” and you could see that this confident guy knew his place, because his broad grin—the grin of a man who, after this week in Armenia, can afford renting a sailboat in Milan—turned into a nervous and humble grin.

I helped them with two pieces of luggage and looked for my carriage. The train was much longer than last time and fully booked. I didn’t know that it now starts from Batumi anyway, and that might be another reason to be well booked. In 2022, it was half empty and much shorter.

The effects of this were visible at the border. I remembered a long procedure anyway, but this time it took four hours.

First, at the Georgian side, I met my crypto hero again who now disliked the train adventure and said next time he would fly again. I asked if that was difficult with so much excess baggage, and his smile reappeared and told me, “You seem to forget that I’m into crypto and know how to turn hot air gambling into real money, and I can afford anything!” (Maybe his grin also said, “It’s economics, stupid!”)

What a pity we had to go off in different directions!

I think about this quite often—how is it that people go in a direction where they never find back to “normal”? (No, I don’t assume I’m normal in the normal sense, but I still think I am related to normality.)

We’re born with equal rights (theoretically), and after a few years, some of us think that because our billions helped destroy the planet, 1) we must become cyborgs, 2) we must live forever, 3) we must occupy another planet, and 4) that’s fair because we’re simply better.
No: It’s simply fair—without any justification.

Okay, back to the platform:

There was a stray dog lying there, and a man started petting it with his shoe. He was so successful that he couldn’t stop – always other parts where presented for treatment.. But at some point, he got fed up (3 a.m., by the way) and walked away. And the dog stroked the snout itself because the man had left it untouched. I have to say, it looked cute.

The border control consists of three parts:
First customs check. This is straightforward; just asking and a shy look, hoping he doesn’t see anything, and you’re on your way. Then outside, pass control at the office, and a second time on the train.

At the Armenian side “every time” it was a hearty welcome and it made me happy! This time, the first officer to check my passport had a little surprise for me.
Anyway he was friendly, but then said to his partner, “Avstria!” and then to me:
“Franz Krankl, good man! Walter Schachner, good man!” (Austrian football players in the late 70ties)
He could see the effect on my face, and it reflected on his face—truly joyful and happy. And then he gave me a welcoming handshake.

I’m back in Armenia!

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