While my journey from Winnipeg to Omalo was an epic of
endurance, the return journey, and its continuation into the next two business
expeditions, was an epic of intellectual endurance,
Georgia is, as you know, a favourite country of mine; after
spending a few delightful and fruitful days in Tusheti we clambered back over
the pass and down to the lowlands. Sighanagi, a delightful little town,
picturesque and adjacent to some wonderful wine country, was our stop for the
next couple of days. Work was discussed, plans made and projects launched - all
in the most agreeable surroundings possible.
Among other programs are a Food, Wine and Culture tour
and a specialist Wine program to be operated next summer. We are just waiting
for the final details to be set in place and then we will start taking
reservations.
Then to Tbilisi, and a couple of days in the Big City,
and a bizarre day out to Borjomi; Borjomi, the town that has given its name to Georgia’s
most famous mineral water has seen better days. It is a remarkable confluence
of Soviet kitsch, modern and somewhat opulent construction and some really rather
elderly buildings slowly collapsing from decay. The town bustles, however, with
apparently happy holidaymakers and others coming to the spa for A Cure.
Among others, we learned, were hundreds of folks from
Atkau, a particularly horrible town in Turkmenistan; it is so polluted that the
employers arrange for workers to be flown to Georgia to spend ten days having
their bowels scoured by some sort of cleansing mud, their lungs puffed clear
and their skins brightly polished before sending them back to the inferno for
another year. Very peculiar.
And so with a heavy heart I boarded the plane back to
Canada, and a few days of debriefing before I headed to Las Vegas.
Now Las Vegas is about as distant from Tusheti as one can
get, and I have to say that it is not my cup of tea. It was far drearier than I
had imagined, less Dubai and more Branson, I felt; acres of slot machines with
rather melancholy patrons pressing buttons, and empty card table waiting for a victim.
I was there, curiously, at the behest of Visit Britain who held their annual
North American beano there. There were, I must add, some very interesting UK
products on display, and I will get around shortly to designing a comprehensive
UK tour program that highlights some of the more obscure and charming parts of
my home country.
And so, fortified with tales of Wales, images of the Outer
Hebrides and some rather interesting day trips in and around London I flew home
for a few days of debriefing; before I headed to Suriname.
Now the trip to Suriname was fascinating, and I headed
south with Dick Griffith, our Chicago-based PR agent. The three Guyanas are
most interesting and to our clients, who thrive on alternative destinations,
the Guyanas match Georgia and the Hebrides in interest, product and hospitality.
Two days in Paramaribo, a day on a canoe in Warrappa Kreek exploring the
abandoned plantations and marvelling at the speed that the jungle can reclaim land
were the opening gambit, and lead up to flying deep into the rainforest, and
two nights at the Kabalebo resort.
One of the hardships of my work is the requirement to
visit distant facilities to ensure that they do indeed match the “picture on
the packet” and that clients who we send to them will not be disappointed.
Kabalebo is not disappointing in any manner at all.
Thirty years ago or so, the Surinamese government built
several airstrips in strategically located part of the jungle to aid
exploration for minerals, the construction of dams and other such major
infrastructural projects. Kabalebo is one such airstrip, and as no industrial
development was warranted, the resort has been built adjacent to the convenient
runway.
It is the most pleasant airport motel I have ever stayed
in.
While the rooms in the main lodge are really a little
small, subsequent developments have created some absolutely delightful
accommodation in the jungle and adjacent to the river. Walks in the jungle are
fine for a the first little while, but suddenly one realises that the walk is
not in a botanical garden, and that there are real jaguars, ocelots, monkeys
and other jungle-dwellers watching our every move. A rain forest is, it has to
be said, natures answer to a teenager’s bedroom; it is a messy place,
unfathomable to any but a resident yet full of absolutely fascinating creatures
and stories. It seemed to me that the major scenario of the jungle was a long,
slow-motion murder/suicide scenario. Massive trees grow; parasitic tubers
gradually squeeze the life out of the trees that then die, soon to be followed
by the demise of the parasite that has killed its source of refreshment. And so
on, and so on …..
Two days at the resort were not enough, but needs must, and business beckoned from Georgetown, so we climbed on board the small Cessna aircraft dispatched to pick us up and we flew back to the Zorg & Hoop airport in Paramaribo, another fine dinner and then the short hop to Georgetown.
Of which more will follow.
