From Baku to Tbilisi
Baku Travel Blog› entry 1 of 8 › view all entries
I get very nervous in lines, or queues, in
Suffice it to say that when I was getting my train ticket to
Ten minutes went by, then a half hour. Soon an entire hour went by and still I was before the blonde girl and after the redhead. Oh, and believe me, people tried to get into the line, but the people at the train station in
Somehow she got into the line and she was ahead of me! My heart started racing and I started inching, slowly, to put myself ahead of her. It was a race, and she knew it as well. Soon, her hand was on the counter right next to the ticket lady. Contouring my body in an uncomfortable way, I put my hand in front of hers, even though at this point it was clear that I was losing the battle.
To be fair, other people had their eyes on her as well. There were more than a couple of hands on that counter.
That didnâ€™t make me feel any better though. Already an hour and fifteen minutes had gone by and there I was about to lose my place in line.
Would I have the nerve to stand up to the counter when my time came?
Would the lady get there before me, and if she did, would my place in line be â€śguaranteedâ€ť anymore?
The nervousness was killing me.
Then, it was the redheadâ€™s turn. It took the ticket seller lady about 5 minutes to process her ticket, then, suddenly, it was my turn. I puffed out my chest and started walking forward, full expecting some sort of resistance.
The lady smiled and let me in. It was my turn and I was able to walk forward and buy my ticket. It was actually a very friendly, relaxing experience. Except for some people laughing at me because I didnâ€™t understand that the lady was trying to tell me that I was going to be on wagon number 3, it all went off without a problem.
Now, the train ticket from
For me, the trip to
The best part about the whole ride was that the son would make comments about how he was a â€śR&B hip hop singer.â€ť He studied hip hop in some
Occasionally, when the conversation would lull, he would start singing. It was always soft at first, and it was always the same song:
â€śYou are not alone, I am here with youâ€¦â€ť
I encouraged it. After ever rendition of that song I would tell him how much like Michael Jackson he really sounded, which made him just want to sing more.
I had that song stuck in my head for the rest of my time in
Now, for all of the good things about the train, it went very slowly. It left at at night, and then 12 hours later at in the morning, we hit the Georgian border. I slept an entire 8 hours that night (being rocked back and forth by the movement of the train is the ONLY way to sleep well), but still, for a country the size of
We were stopped at the first Georgian town for about an hour while Georgian border police checked everyoneâ€™s belongings, then we were off again on our way to
We finally rolled into