Goodbye Georgia, into the unknown

After getting up today, I started packing my bike. I had a thousand other ideas of what I could do instead, but this time I blocked out all distractions and focused directly on the most important task of the day. Once I got started, it went quite smoothly, and I even turned down Shaun’s offer of food—for later, maybe.

It took me about two hours to figure out a good strategy to fit as much as possible into the relatively small box while still protecting my bike. After finishing, I weighed it—the scale showed just over 30 kg, a bit more than expected. But according to the airline’s website, up to 32 kg is fine, so all was good.

After grabbing a quick bite, I went back with Shaun to the bike shop that had been closed yesterday. They didn’t have an exact Shimano replacement chain, but they did have a compatible one for a 12-speed drivetrain. The only one left was the gold edition, which is more expensive but supposedly more resistant to rust. Not that I really need that—my current chain is already worn out from heavy use before rust even became an issue—but since replacing it was important, I went with the bling-bling version.

I had been to my favorite café many times in Tbilisi, but today I tried a different one. It was also great, and the fast internet allowed me to have a long video call with my parents. The only downside was that they only had one dessert option, which didn’t appeal to me. So afterward, I went back to my favorite café for dessert—and also because I wanted to see Hyun-myung, the Korean woman I mentioned yesterday. She’s going through a difficult time, and I had found a small gift that I thought might help: a compact adapter for her laptop charger so she wouldn’t have to carry that bulky brick around.

I arrived a bit earlier than her and found the café closing. The staff said there had been a power outage and the cook had already gone home, so they had no choice. I quickly grabbed the last doughnut (tiramisu flavor) and two small chocolate cake pieces (like creamy soufflés), then waited outside with my takeaway box for Hyun-myung. We could have walked eight minutes back to my hostel for utensils, but she preferred eating with our hands. Soon enough, our hands were covered in sticky doughnut filling and creamy chocolate. I’m not that young anymore, but moments like this make me feel a bit younger again.

At 8 p.m., Shaun and I took a minivan arranged by our hostel hosts to the airport, along with our two large cardboard boxes. Our flight was at 01:35, and since the drive wasn’t long, we arrived far too early—but better early than late. After some waiting, we checked in our luggage. Apart from the now slightly deformed 32 kg “monster,” I only had hand luggage. According to the website, transporting bikes costs 100 USD, but at the airport they wanted 275 Georgian lari—and cash only. So I had to exchange money one last time. Since the cheaper exchange offices had closed at 11 p.m., I had to use the more expensive ones—night rates, of course.

While checking in, we saw someone ahead of us with a large cardboard box, and I immediately went to talk to him. It was Cal from Ireland, also cycling eastward. From that moment on, we were a group of three. After paying the 275 lari, we checked in our bikes, and I thought everything was sorted. However, when we were already at the gate, a staff member from the airline came to me and said there was an issue with my luggage—I had to go to security. The box had to be opened in my presence, but I wasn’t allowed to touch anything at first. A young police officer began taking apart my carefully packed box piece by piece, until almost everything ended up on the floor of a small room near the conveyor belts. I have a suspicion about what they were looking for, but I didn’t say anything and won’t elaborate here. In any case, they were searching for something made of metal. I explained where my heavy bike lock was and pointed out other metal items, but they didn’t really find what they were looking for.

In the end, the security officer was satisfied and told me I could repack everything. That part was left to me, though the airline staff helped a bit—which was necessary, since departure was only about half an hour away. I hurriedly stuffed everything back into the box more or less as it had been and made my way back to the gate through corridors, stairs, and doors that are usually off-limits. Boarding was already in full swing, but in the end, everything worked out. In the end, things always turn out fine—and if they don’t, then it’s not the end yet.