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It was horribly sad he wouldn’t let go, and there was absolutely nothing to his small body. He then wrapped his arms around Stuart’s leg, and was so tiny he could sit on Stuart’s foot and be carried along as Stuart walked. A small boy of about seven came up to ask us for money. We spent the Sunday wandering around Tbilisi. When Dodo saw Stuart in another shop, spending his new notes, she threw her hands in the air “Now what is he doing, we get him good money and now he goes and mixes it up all over again”. To apologise for the mix up in the shop, Stuart went to buy some scratch cards to give the shop lady as a gift. Are you absentminded? You are young, why are you absentminded?” Stuart then realised that the money had actually come from a bank machine, so Dodo marched up to the teller, and got them to change the notes. Dodo was shocked “Stuart! I came here looking for a quarrel, but this is the wrong shop. It got a bit confusing after this, as when we went to the shop where Stuart thought he’d been given the dodgy notes, the woman reminded him of the change she had given him, so Stuart realised that he had the wrong shop. “We will go to the police Stuart, and you must be cruel!”, she said slamming her fist into her hand. Dodo asked which shop had given him the notes, then went to change her shirt, and told us she was ready for a fight. When he got back, he told Dodo that one of the shops wouldn’t take his notes, saying they weren’t genuine. Stuart went to an ATM first thing in the morning, and then went to a couple of shops to buy some things for breakfast. The next day was Sunday, and we got to meet Dodo, the owner of the homestay – a small woman in her 70s, with a whole lot of spirit. We were put in a room with two motorcyclists from Austria, who were still out, which was a relief, as we didn’t have to wake them. She happily let us in and showed us where we could sleep. Amazingly, we found one, and a sleepy girl responded to our knock. We made our way to the suburb where a lot of the homestays were, hoping we could find one, and hoping someone was still up.
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The roads were still quite busy, but with lots of police cars cruising, and small pockets of people talking in groups. The bus dropped us off in Tbilisi, the capital city at 2am.
#ONE OF US IS LYING ONE OF US IS CRYING MAMMA MIA DRIVER#
Soon after this, we were stopped by the police as the bus driver had driven the wrong way around a roundabout. As we neared the 30 hour mark on the bus, one of them started to pace up and down the aisle, saying “I’m so tired, I’m so tired”. This was nothing compared to the state of the drivers, of which there were two, and they would just swap around with each other whenever they got too tired. Next he was pouring water directly onto his head from the water bottles. That must be the last of the coffee runs, I thought with disappointment as I clicked my meal tray back into place. Shirts became unbuttoned, the ties came off, and one of them stood in the middle of the bus and started skulling directly from the coke bottle.
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The two stewards who began the journey looking smart in their pressed white shirts and bow ties went rapidly into decline. We crossed the Georgian border after about 24 hours on the bus.