In Tbilisi Elliot is constantly taking out his phone with the new Georgian SIM card, sputtering out the soft syllables and sibilants of the Russian language.
The sky is darker, unblanched by the nearness of the Armenian sun and tosses rain around the narrow alleys of the city every few hours.It's a warm summer rain, not hard enough to make walks difficult. Just enough to soak the brick and bring out that warm sandy smell of rain in the city.
I miss speaking Armenian, although it was only a day ago that I spoke it with a Yezidi cab driver from Ortachala to Marjanishvili.
Our Azeri visa problems do not bode well for this rest of this trip. We thought Azerbaijan would be one of our easiest places to visit and now the border between here and Baku seems impenetrable, at least without a significant bribe.
Nobody worries, though. Nobody cares.
I made bad coffee and will make it again before I go to bed tonight. There's wine, there's a courtyard already winedark and a moody Sunday tomorrow.
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