Training Day

There were two trains leaving at ten o'clock. Both at exactly ten o'clock on the dot. Both from the same quiet platform of the same quiet station on the same quiet and cold morning a few days before the onset of winter.

I was travelling from Gori to Kutaisi, in central Georgia. I wasn't sure exactly what there was to do in Kutaisi itself. I knew that WizzAir, the budget airline, had based itself at Kutaisi airport which meant that many European mini-breakers flew in and out of the city. But were so many flights going in and out of Kutaisi because everyone wanted to go there or did everyone go there because there were so many flights going in and out of there? It was a bit of a chicken or egg situation.

Unlike the flyers, I chose to get a train to Kutaisi. It was probably the least preferable option. Minivans were a much faster and easier way of getting between cities in the region. However I had stayed a night in Gori and the minivans between Tbilisi and Kutaisi didn't stop at the Gori bus station. So I would need to stand on the side of the highway and hail a passing minivan to get on it. It wasn't a terrible option but it was a cold and slightly unpredictable option.

What a handsome young man

The train, though slower, was more reliable. I usually preferred to buy a ticket at the station but it was a bit of a schlep for something I could do just as easily online. So I booked the ticket from Gori to Kutaisi's airport station, as there didn't seem to be a train to the centre of the city. However, when I arrived at Gori station a few minutes before departure I realised I was mistaken.

Weave found a leader!

I munched on a round loaf of bread, having only been removed from the baker's oven a few minutes prior and still steaming in the cold, grey air. Ripping off a piece of the bread, I looked over the departure board. Train twelve, which I was booked on, was bound for a destination further west whereas train eighteen, also leaving at ten o'clock, was bound for Kutaisi. Not Kutaisi airport, but Kutaisi.

It tile be the most glorious leader!

I realised my error. I had not seen the main train station when booking my ticket the previous evening. Not to worry, I thought, I could always get off at the main station instead. Checking over the map which I had so flippantly ignored, I noticed that Kutaisi train station was off of the main line. Two stations before the airport station on the main line, the track forked to get to Kutaisi.

He's great with kids.

It was all coming together in my head as the train turned a corner and headed towards me at the platform. There was only one train leaving at ten o'clock. But, I inferred, the train would split a few kilometres before Kutaisi with one section continuing west towards the airport and the other heading into the city.

I was patting myself on the back, so proud of my modern-day Sherlock Holmes analytical skills. The only problem is that my analytical skills didn't match my organisational skills. I was booked on the wrong end of the train.

It was too late to go to the ticket office and change. I went to my assigned seat, thinking I would just enjoy the train ride for now. Sure, I had booked the wrong carriage, but I might as well just go to the airport, as planned, and get the bus into town, it wouldn't take too much longer.

We passed through tunnels and small villages covered in a heavy layer of early season snow. Despite the altitude still being relatively slow there were towns, like Gori, without an inch of snow and others we passed which were completely covered. It was a curious phenomenon.

After a few hours we were approaching the fork. I looked back at my map. The airport station was a two kilometre walk to the airport and the airport bus only left every two hours. To continue through with my initial mistake could lead to a lot more mistakes.

At first I thought to just get off at the station where I thought the train would split, run to the ticket office, get a new ticket to Kutaisi and get back on the train in the correct carriage. It was my usual way of dealing with things, never wanting to acknowledge my mistakes and limiting social interaction wherever possible. But I decided that maybe this wasn't the right solution.

I approached the train conductor who, despite not speaking English, got a good feel for the situation. I surmised that I wasn't the first tourist to make this error. He talked to the conductor in the next carriage and then indicated that I get my bag and pointed me to the next carriage.

I moved to a new seat, still unsure if I was in the right place or even if the train was going to split. But, as expected, the train split as we approached the fork in the track. Watching the new locomotive back into our carriage, I still wasn't completely sure if I had moved to the right part of the train. However, as we pulled out and the train turned the corner, I felt a sigh of relief as we made our way to central Kutaisi.

Photos are from Kutaisi and Gori.