A sunny winter’s day, and by now our hangovers were fully digested. We put our tires on the highway and started cycling. In fact, the highway here is a nice and easy two lane road and very enjoyable for cyclers in our opinion. First we had to climb a small hill that provided a nice view over Batumi’s skyline, and after this the road was all flat. The amusement park we encountered looked closed, but it was not very clear whether this was permanent. We stopped for dinner in a roadside restaurant, motivated by all the shopkeepers selling freshly shot ducks along the road. Maybe we’d get some wild duck on our plates too. Sadly, we do not understand a single letter of the Georgian alphabet, nor the Georgian language, so it was time to switch to body language once more. This resulted in two good dishes and one random fish plate, not quite to our taste. Two out of three was acceptable though. We continued and started looking for a place to sleep as the night began to fall.
“Georgian food is spicy and special” David explained while imitating he was spreading spices with his finger over a plate. David, our host for the night, is a Georgian who lives in Greece but was now in the country for a few days. He shot some ducks today which he prepared in a clay pan in the stove’s oven. Served together with a bean stew, we were up for a real Georgian treat. Before we could even lick our fingers, David and his friend put glasses on the table and a bottle of liquor and wine.
“You know chacha?” “Yes, Georgian wodka?” “Indeed, when you drink, we say Khavi Margios” – David clinked his glass to ours and made a cross We answered “In Belgium we say schol, Khavi Margios” “Schol” David answered, and we drunk our glasses of the Georgian liquor.
After some glasses it was obvious the guitar laying on the couch wouldn’t remain untouched, and Stef grabbed and started playing the intro of a song of his favourite song. Yuri and Oli knew the words by now, and together they sang for their host, not to shy to sing a false note anymore. Meanwhile, David kept filling our glasses, since “Your glass has to be full to toast”. And any reason to make a toast is a good reason. Apparently he made the Chacha and the sweet white wine himself. Both were very tasty and we stayed up late to enjoy his homebrews, from which we felt the consequences later. We went to sleep after he answered our final question: “Do you drink chacha every day, or only sometimes?” The answer was clear: “Every day my friend, every day.”
But tomorrow our heads will be “Badunk Badunk” – imitating a serious headache. “No no, I know what is good for you. I am doctor.”