Entering Georgia

Crossing the border into a poor country is always a worrying matter, especially by car at a small border, where officials have unlimited discretion.

We were on a family trip from Yerevan to Tbilisi in my dad’s new Highlander. The weather was nice, the egg sandwiches delicious, lake Sevan and its surrounding mountains shining, dogs wandering around with joy; everything was perfect.

Getting out of Armenia went slowly but smoothly. Still, it was enough to make us realize what kind of problems we can get at borders. ‘Georgia here we come’.

We in the car were smiling but border officials were not. The passengers (me, my mother and my sister) get out of the car and cross into by foot, all goes well, once again. The driver (my father) stays in the car to get controlled separately. It doesn’t sound right but anyway, you got to do what they told you…So we’re waiting in Georgia while my father seems to be struggling. He waves at us, we have to go back.

No, there won’t be any Tbilisi, this is the end. This was like Czech Republic all over again, when on our way to visit Prague we had to change plans once at the border because we didn’t have ‘visum’. We all felt sad, angry and desperate, having been so close to visit such an exotic place.
The explanation was that we could enter the country but the car couldn’t. ‘Bullshit’ we thought. This was like the perfect crap officials could invent to get a little something for the week-end. Indeed, they had prepared the bribe extraction ingeniously: getting us excited and psychologically already into Georgia up to the point of no return, where even the most honorable father would have paid a bribe.

But my father had built his life on being principled. We were going back to Armenia. In spite of everything, there was still a glimmer of hope deep inside all of us. Since this was just total crap, maybe we could get the decision reversed. Our hearts started beating again when my father convinced the Armenian agent to argue for us at the Georgian border. We were saved.

Armenians and Georgians border agents, both wearing camouflage jackets, seem to get along well as they kiss when they salute each other. But our hope melts away once again when the Armenian explains that it is indeed true that we can’t enter Georgia with a car with a temporary ‘car passport’. Maybe they were just doing their job after all.

While my father is arranging our re-entry into Armenia and my sister despairing outside, I try to get my mom into going to Georgia anyway, by taxi or bus or whatever. While it was not really possible for me to understand what was going on in her head as the words that came out of her mouth could be counted on one hand, I could see that she still wanted to go. We just needed a ride. ‘Mom’ I shouted, ‘should we try to get a ride? Come on, answer! What are you thinking for Christ sake?’ ‘Just relax’ she replies, ‘here’s an American diplomat. There it is, our ride’.

Delighted, I was about to go tell my dad to ask them for a ride. But there he was at my window, already telling us we had to hurry up to take our things and get in their car. The ride had been arranged, they had been chosen.

Entering Georgia took about five minutes. The officials didn’t even look at us, even though my father was waving and smiling, full of life.

How we survived on the road to Tbilisi, however, is another story.