After the long and sometimes scary haul through Türkiye along the Black Sea coast, the Georgian border came as welcome relief. Throughout the planning of the trip, Georgia kept cropping up as the place I was likely to enjoy the most. I’m not really sure why, I guess it might partly be their love of wine – the first wine making country on the globe – their rich independent culture, and the current challenges with thousands on the streets demanding a move closer to the EU.

As a counter-balance to this excitement and optimism, my first stop was due to be Batumi, described by some as the ‘Las Vegas of the Black Sea’. Oh dear. I mean, one Las Vegas is enough in the world. And Las Vegas is surely the best Las Vegas around? I’m not sure a Black Sea Las Vegas is needed really.

Crossing the border was more stressful than it needed to be. I’ve crossed lots of borders now, but there’s always the anxiety of dealing with officialdom, being in the right queue for the right thing, having the right documents etc. etc. Add to that the fact that my bike had no insurance for the country, so I’d have to buy from a booth on the other side of the border. Change money to have some cash, try to get a SIM card, try to get a downloaded map working for directions because my sat nav doesn’t cover the country. A lot to think of.

A measure of light relief was provided by the modernist border building itself that looked like a prop from A Clockwork Orange. Or perhaps a 70s motorway services building designed after a few too any mushrooms.

Thankfully after a needlessly grim and dour official welcome, there were loads of ‘helpful’ people to make sure I got everything I needed. It only took a dozen ‘no thank yous’ until I was left alone long enough to figure out what I really needed from where.

The ‘helpful’ guy who said he’d look after my bike (with essential luggage just strapped on the back) while I queued up to sort stuff out, was, as it turns out helpful. I parked the bike out of the way but it was soon engulfed by cars, busses and trucks trying to squeeze past either side of it. My man did a great job of fending these off and swearing at them in Georgian to preserve Badger.

And in a matter of hours I was through the border and underway with more or less all I needed. I was welcomed with my first taste of what was to become the worst driving I have yet to encounter on the planet – apart from probably La Paz, Bolivia. Every second or third car drives around with panels and bumpers dented or off, it’s easy to see why. People drive where they want to drive, when they want to be on that specific patch of road. Bikes are just an inconvenience to be physically pushed out of the way, as are pedestrians, other cars and dogs.

This wasn’t helped by the fact that the google map I had downloaded was a basic blurry map with not brilliant turn directions. So I turned, missed turns and got sucked into the increasingly manic city centre traffic. I kept my cool, more or less, and after a few false starts found my Air B and B despite the sadly lacking directions.

And phew… the first beer was well deserved. I set out on foot for an explore and found some impressive old buildings and an unexpectedly cool area of cobblestone, tree-lined streets and craft beer bars. The beer was good and the people were friendly. I got chatting to a few with ease who seemed genuinely interested to hear from me and to tell me about themselves. Local Georgians and Russians who had to leave home.. a theme that would continue throughout Georgia.

It was great fun to speak to biker Gleb who loves his off-roading and has done a fun trip to Crimea in happier times. It was really informative to hear his take on Putin’s war and his plans for the future – as much as he’s able to make any, Like others I met, he was in Georgia with skills, working digitally for a European company. It’s always a pleasure when new friends are generous with their time and invitations helping restore faith in humanity – a real antidote to the individualism and pessimism that seems to permeate a lot of modern life in England these days.

After a few more beers and a great chat, I had a look on google to try to find a place nearby that looks OK. Neither the barman nor Gleb had heard of the place I found, but we walked there anyway. Google lied. Google lies. Google maps is an amazing piece of kit but they just don’t seem able to keep on top of bars and clubs opening, closing and being renamed.

No matter, Gleb was quickly on his phone to ask if it would be OK for me to come with him to see his mate at a nearby flat. These are just the kind of invitations that I love from generous people, good people. Of course there’s an element of risk, but I believe that you just have to make a judgment call as best as you can. People are people wherever you go in the world and many are more genuinely friendly than the English.

So off we popped to get some booze to take to the flat. There were a few lovely little wine cellars around the area.. down some steps and into a place with walls stacked with Georgian wine. They also have a few stools and tables so you can either drink in or take away. Gleb ordered us a couple of “farm” wines, stuff that they don’t even bottle, just serve up into plastic containers to take away. And lovely it was too.

Gleb’s friends place was a lovely historic building with grand features and an awesome balcony overlooking the street below. I was welcomed and made to feel at home by his friends and housemates, some of whom had great English. What a cracking chilled evening drinking real Georgian wine watching the people shuffle about the street below.

The following day I had a good mooch around Batumi and chilled by the waterfront. I didn’t see much of the vegas glitz on show (thankfully) and really enjoyed the old part of town which compares as well as, or exceeds, some of the cool places in western Europe.

My second evening was topped off with some heavy, heavy drum and bass before a power cut and a rapid exit in the pitch black from a somewhat dodgy old building… but that’s another story!