leaving the corner

Gonio means “corner” in Georgian. And what a strange little corner it is. The sun shines bright in Gonio. The clouds rain heavily in Gonio. The dogs are friendly in Gonio. Everyone is very relaxed in Gonio.

Having spent a month in the corner, tanning, swimming, reading, socializing, I felt that Gonio had taken some things from me and given me others in return.

Today was the day that I finally left. I could hear my friends hooting and whistling their encouragement as I walked away from them, but I didn’t turn my head to look back. I am not good at saying good-bye.

As I approach the border, the road is suddenly lined with cars. All of them have Georgian plates. I ask a guy in a reflective vest what’s going on, and he tells me that many people cross the border to go shopping in Turkey. Apparently it’s easier to leave your car here than to take it along.

The border is easy. Someone waves me through the car lane, lots of border guards take photos with me, and I only have to open the Caboose one time to show what’s inside. There are lots of trucks. I see one with plates from Kazakhstan, one from Turkmenistan, and one from the Netherlands.

Then, as I pass the last truck and a gate with one final passport check, I am through.

Good-bye Georgia.
Turkey, I have come to you.