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Abkhazia

The atmosphere these days in Abkhazia? I would say that this can be reduced to an image.
This one:



Abkhazia, a former Communist Riviera is a strip of land located at the east end of Georgia, bordering the Black Sea. This "country", only recognized by Russia and Venezuela, still maintains the non-very strained relationship with the neighboring Georgian and has been since the end of the War of Independence it two years ago. It is theoretically impossible to pass from one to another and the only way to get there is to go through the Russian border to the north. By a sleight of hand going on and some connections in Sukhumi, the Abkhazian capital, we get the last minute of laissez-passers to special cross the border on foot by the river Inguri.



Check the position, or talk softly in a dry dust, goats and Georgian. We pass the barrier and the waltz begins. Three men without uniforms challenge us in urging us to show our papers. We will never know if they were military, customs, and local cops at work (very rare). Service vehicle, a black BMW of smaller, tinted windows. We spend almost two hours in full dodger has four times the same answer manaqement, interrogation punctuated by the passage of aid trucks. One question to us. Hey extreme tourists, you see the marks of splinters Missill on the body? That's what awaits you on the other side, "then laugh and easygoing guy. We share an informal meal. They desperately particularly Boris, our fellow Muscovite. Indeed Russia has always supported largely the "occupier", and still provides protection against Georgia, as well as South Ossetia. Finally, we get a grudging permission to pass. The bridge about 1 km serves no mans land we are experiencing dragging our luggage.



Abbkhazien Finally the post appears. A soldier in uniform waiting for us on the other side in the middle of the road, against a backdrop of vegetation and ravaged by the fighting, and graces us with a vigorous handshake "WELCOME IN ABKHAZIA," Ton says. Bullet holes, sandbags, barbed wire, photographs prohibited. Abkhazia was known have the most beautiful symbol of Soviet Union, because of its popularity. And it has to recognize that the violent luxuriance of its vegetation lined with colonial architecture bright white makes it a disturbing charm. The walls are always decorated with poster bearing the image of the puppet president in the pay of Moscow and portraits of soldiers killed in combat there two years ago. The Department of Home Affairs, or we have to do to make our visa comes down to a conference room, empty. Or almost. A group of 6 chicks chattering, chuckling, 3 or 4 attached pretend to work ahead of Facebook, and the minister himself throne, reading the newspaper yawning crows.









The country has never been recognized, no hope to run a cell phone or abroad non-Russian, when his people ....
His people ...
the facts speak for themselves. We go out on the streets in search of the site in ruins Abrat. We're going to do when a local, wide, blocks our passage. "If you climb to the ruins, I slit your throat!" we shall there, with a vivacity the land on which we had not been accustomed. Slightly dampened by this short but strident argument, we decide instead to go fetch an inn to restore us. We go up the main street of the city, when we pass a group of fifteen young, 15-20 years, Soviet champagne bottle in hand.
One of these juvenile drunkards at the sight of facies perforated piercings Razor Dunek, energized by trying to mock. We do not know, and on our way. The worry is that the dear little dog, she did not intend to stop there. After 5 mintutes walk we realize that this beautiful young we had followed. With two or three of his henchmen. And those two or three acolytes accompanied by a dozen of the thieves accabit. They rattrappent us, surround us and we lock against a wall. The tough guy of the band, which is according to the most devoted old rule, the more hefty and, incidentally, most burned.
Yes, twisting detail, while his right arm was completely burnt to the third degree. And it starts
s'engrainer. In Russian. The average strike going after Razor Dunek that I translated: "He loves not my big piercing under the lip, and told me that if they see me with that old, they are going to put a bullet in the head." Remind that they are fifteen, dead drunk, with large bottles in hand. The time is, as far as possible, the negotiation, and even if this idea debecte me. View my precious shoes soiled with my own blood is an image that m'irritte more.
- "Ok, so if I withdraw, you leave us alone?
-revoked, immediately!"
He runs, and the group as dry evaporates in seconds, leaving us alone with our sweat, some ice, beaten by the burning winds Abkhazians. few hours later altercation narrowly avoided the same breed, because I had dared to remove my tshirt, installed at a deserted terrace and eccentric. relax the next day we take a minibus to a monastery in the mountains. Everything would proceed peacefully if we did not notice that our friendly driver driving at breakneck had not been amputated right arm. I spend the next two fingers to get arrested by the militia because I was doing (alone, big mistake) photographs of the station, frozen in time in twenty years. Do not speak Russian, and they do not understand my silence and my legitimate incomperhension address their issues were very quickly heated. Situation saved by the driver of the hotel. "Why take her picture station? Him go botanical garden photos, it beautiful. Why make him train pictures?". Note that the militiaman said recess was dressed in civilian clothes and had to be 22 years old at every break, with a wrinkled uniform Lourdeau the unidentified.
In conclusion, the Abkhaz people committed the astounding feat of getting the Russian people, that we will find the next day in Sochi for an ethnic affable and gracious manners in civilized and refined. Surreal.
And thank you.

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Lavra Kiev

Holidays are also the culture, sightseeing, learning about other customs sometimes overlooked. Ahhhhh
ethnographic museums and halls of clay pots, shards of their rooms which is crossed (at a run) to feel good. We're not going to lie, culture vacancy in this aspect bipolar oscillating between fascination and genuine authentic chore.

Razor Dunek, Kiev, Ukraine, star, suddenly exclaim "WE NEED TO VISIT THE LAURE KIEV *, this is one of the greatest shrines of the Orthodox world!, Basements it seems there are amazing. And I have marked on our program, no choice. I 'm breaking down refractory. "
Awesome.
robed priests in churches and caves photocopied wet, and his horde of Russian tourists. Anyway, so we will feel good and go.
After a good half-hour strolls on the site, it is very true golden and gigantic knobbed, we finally find the entrance of said basement. A priest distributes thin yellow wax candles at the entrance, and the general Eight of necrophilia gohique can begin.
Not a single electrical current in fact, the only source of light is produced by our candles, from beginning to end. In fact caves as a zero, we go down the stairs of a vaulted corridor microscopic whitewashed, all there is to clean and Orthodox.



After descending a few minutes, we land in a maze of corridors accabit the same, only our flames illuminate. Not a single tourist in reality, the only fauna present consists of pilgrims. And priests in black robes, sparkling in the light of this sympathy and malice that which those who have done six times per round trip between earth and hell. And have seen the horrors of too close. "Mazet and saprisiti, here's a strange infatuation for a simple maze with no water or electricity!" I will tell you why. I quickly found that the wall, in addition to the conventional icons, are pierced with cavities and compartments. And in these sockets, glass coffins. And in those coffins the bodies of popes died in atrophied Lavra. They are hidden and swaddled as infants in stoles embroidered figure of dance macabre skulls and naive. Only hand out cloth, and it is enough to understand what it is.





And these bodies are present in tens, hundreds in the labyrinths. Every believer (obviously at a loss with common sense), embraces these coffins, chanting, hand tight around the candle. Two men genuflexion rub his head against a wall. A woman, her face veiled, bang their heads against the order of the frame of an icon without stopping. In a recess, closed by a grid, we can distinguish, aided by the dim light given to us, a series of works in glass globes which are crowded shovel-mell of skulls and fragments of dismembered human bodies. Half an hour of wandering, they are the same scenes that are repeated again that nothing will disturb the hysterical frenzy of morbid devotion. A delight. For those interested in mental illness, the clautrophobie at practices retro and corpses, of course. Otherwise, I recommend it.
And thank you.



* the name it bears, I can not help it, do not see here any reference to an unlikely local prostitute named Laura.


ps: As ever, the photos were prohibited, we have stolen what we could.

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Svanethi





The Caucasus is a bit like a wild flower: it is necessary to stoop to the cueuillir. Thus, assisted by my two colleagues, we are crossing the region driving a muddy 4x4. On the track resembling that at least British snooker dermis of a syphilitic whore observed with a powerful magnifying glass, with furious discharges into it. That day, it was 7 hours of chaos Lovecraft, with a tire bursting 2600m altitude. In a muddy torrent of course. I would spend on beauty the place anyway, we're not here to speak well.
And why?
To visit the highest village in Europe inhabited by Jove. Ushguli in Svanethi.



first apartment, very racist, let me set you free man on Georgia. It embodies the most amazing lazy he is, spends his time in the shade, asleep both arms around the tree, or it will remain hands in his pockets full dodger along the highway from the vehicles, moreover, very slow. But as it is scary, we shall not attempt to put the work force. In fact you imagine a creature combining the attitude soft a kebab seller lethargic with a physical flayer kitten. Make him noisily dragging feet and you're there. And do not look for women, they are all in church. Yes
therefore, svanethi.
The particularity of this region of Georgia misplaced is that the people who occuppe Svan, not content with being very Georgian and thief also has a pretty nasty character. At the point of having erected throughout the ninth centuries dozens of fortified towers of defense, very beautiful, measuring up to 50 meters. "But damn it, shit in a hole like that, who could blame the good people Svan? Besides the towers are placed in villages anyhow..



In itself it protects.
Because yes, indeed the Svans are so bright they make war not between tribes or families, but even between neighbors. As a result, when Berthier wanted to thrash this boil Pichard (with the rusty knife), the latter, smart, Trissa is in its turn and veered wide and stayed there for months. And if Berthier was going up anyway, Pichard fucked him over with stones. And when it was over, he took the secret underground chopper to go to others. And every family in the village had its tower for this purpose. That way if your neighbor wants to cut your throat one evening, what can happen, bah you're in your lap And Mrs. St. thee thrown stones above.
Borat in the decoration of the lord of the rings with a plot to Kusturica punctuated by Benny Hill.



Svanethi let us turn to "contemporary". Obviously the good people raise animals. Breeding is a big word because in fact, it's like a big release of pigs and goats in the "streets". I even saw some cows in a house. These friendly creatures doing well on their poop or whatever they sing, the soil is found to be in reality carpet shining in full of fecal matter in the powerful aroma very authentic.
We spent 2 nights homestay there. Example
hospitality Svan. Meal. We ask the babushka wine. Application altogether realistic given the gargantuan table offered to us. Except that there's no. "BUT I HAVE IT AND IT'S GIFT." A jare of 1, 5 liter Chacha home. A very local booze whose main interest of spinning Lovecraftian hangovers and eating the optic nerve. After checking the first sip, and an impenetrable black veil over my eyes alighted, followed by violent convulsions stomach.

But it is already time to go. 30 minutes after our departure and a long road traveled (300m), Razor Dunek realized he had forgotten his camera battery. "Morning!" cried he, and after a call to the great mother, set off towards the village, recovering property that was hanging under his bed. Except that the old and half the village was waiting with a mouth to hang over the street. "Me I t'accueuille, I offer you good and you chacha! You, you treat us thieves?!" tension rises despite the efforts of the valiant French circled. But as he had also forgotten his umbrella to the "toilet", it made them laugh a lot, and when he knocked at the door before leaving, at the Pierre Richard, the hilarity was like the laughter of the good people Svan still ringing up Vanshkarah. Then all was forgotten, and thank you.

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Benigno Aquino: President of the change?

IT has already been compared to Barack Obama. his inauguration speech 20 minutes has impressed observers with pen The most bitter towards the previous government, to the editorial writers of the Philippine Daily Inquirer this morning that took the form of a real tribute to "change" offered by the new hero of the Filipinos.
For what is seen as Benigno Aquino III by deeply religious people: the day after his "coronation" is messianic man whose sincerity will be total, a "Superman" who happen to stop corruption and imprison those responsible for the looting of state funds. His father did not he paid with his life fighting for democracy? Her mother is not she the one that worked rebuild this democracy after the long dictatorship of Marcos?
Noynoy Aquino is a living legend. Today, he returns to reality, and
hopefully he will have the courage and the means necessary to move this country in the right direction. And those promises of Messiah.

Here in the Time article summarized his main challenge: the fight against corruption.



















In the meantime, here are some photos of a ceremony inauguration attended by nearly 500,000 people yesterday. The hope of the Filipinos is enormous.

(Photo credits Sunshine de Leon and Sebastian Stuffed)