Georgian laydee

Konka

So I think most of my anxiety was related to my cats, especially three-paw who I had decided needed a holiday from the one eyed tyrant.  But I needn't have worried because as soon as I got her to her guest pad she ambled down the corridor and threw herself on her kind host's double bed and began purring.Actually the most stressful part was the journey there because the traffic were awful, the taxi drivers were even worse and nobody seemed even interested in helping me with my map. I find Turkish people seem to start  panicking as soon as they hear Turkish with an English accent and become disinclined or perhaps too nervous to help.
This I can now attest is not the case in Georgia. From the minute I got off the plane the people have touched me with their warmness and kindness and perseverance in helping me even with the language barrier. That is not to say that Turkish people aren't kind as well, they just seem to have more of a fear of the unknown whereas the Georgians seem to relish it.
 I began my adventure with a squishy yellow bus - number 37 - which goes from the airport to town. As soon as I got on the people rallied round to help. One woman paid my fare and another lovely young chap not only helped me get off but walked with me to my hostel. Actually his desire to help sort of backfired because we got royally lost and I carried my backpack around for a good hour longer than I would have on my own. But it didn't matter I got to explore  lovely nooks and crannies I may never have discovered otherwise and it helped me identify my first wine stop.
It is called a konka and was a form of transport pulled by horses back in the 1800s. Now it is the happy home of some locally made red  Georgian wine and the  sweet Natalie who  chatted amicably to me about topics ranging from distilling wine at home, alternatives to violence and where to find the best cheese pie.