Here we are. One week from today, I leave once again the sacred soil of France. Marshal hello! General hello! Here I am leaving for what should always call the USSR. And not a little. I could almost say that the red (haha) of history is our favorite mustachioed, I named Joseph. I freed you. I arrive June 26 in Kiev and I agree with Boris (Moscow) and the Danube Shaver (New York and Anthony) that they arrived from Moscow. Ahhhhh Ukraine, as if our good Joseph spiritually hungry. He also probably good reasons to do so, without doubt. We stay a few days doing nothing, drunk with sunshine, women and champagne-Soviet sirens, before flying on board a "plane" for the local land that gave life to our friend Joseph, I named Georgia. Its good people, his bread and cheese, his booze, his goats, his "road". We'll burn 4x4, long and forth, twirling the mustache of South Ossetia, to the Abkhazian border. France-Diplomatie website: "
Travel is recommended only in two separatist regions beyond the control of central government: Abkhazia and South Ossetia. All areas near the boundaries with the breakaway regions are potentially dangerous and are not recommended for tourists.
Abkhazian border crossing so we want to, obviously, as recommended above. The trouble is not, because they are always a bit at war with Georgia. But as the guys are not idiots, they'll take another "plane" to go back to Russia and from there take a "boat" to Abkhazia. Why Abkhazia, tongue of land east of Georgia, overlooking the Black Sea, I ask you? Well aware that the issues connes exist, and that it is testament to this. Why? Cons. Because that's the bottom, on the Riviera, Bolsheviks, Stalin had our good and that his dacha rather die than miss it. It stars in their eyes, that from there we fly to the lighthouse is the star of the world, Moscow. Where we bask in a famous sauna, fed fat white and black bread. Then from there, everyone went back to tell his epic children worldwide.And thank you.
0 comments:
Post a Comment