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Kars to Akhaltsikhe, Crossing the Turkey / Georgia Border

So here's an account of my cross-border trip from Kars in Eastern Turkey to Akhaltsikhe in Georgia. I writing this partly because while trying to research this border crossing myself, I could only find extremely scant information online all of which was several years out of date, but mainly because after a week of full-on travel and exploration I kinda just wanna sit on this here balcony, drink this here wine and enjoy this here view, and writing something allows me to feel a bunch less guilty for doing so when there's a seemingly beautiful town in a certainly beautiful valley just a few hundred meters below... It's fine, I've already wandered about for a couple hours in search of a cafe and come up short. Here's the good news: anyone reading this who is considering making the border crossing from Turkey to Georgia using the less travelled route described here will find the process reasonably simple and trouble free. From what I've read, the common method of moving overland between these two countries involves making use of the well serviced coastal border between Hopa, Turkey and Batumi, Geogia. If your heading in that direction or if you prefer your travel well air conditioned and comfortable, this is probably the best option for you. However if, like me, you're continuing on from the Eastern end of the Turkish rail network, taking the Hopa - Batumi route will add a several hour diversion to your journey which is largely unnecessary. I managed to make it from Kars to Akhaltsikhe within a single day with enough time to spare that had I wanted to continue straight on to Tbilisi then I'm confident I could have done so, probably arriving sometime between 8pm - 10pm. 

If you're just here for the specifics of how I did the trip and couldn't give a toss about my sweet little story, no worries, here's the summary. Bare in mind that I did this in May 2017. This isn't a part of the world that sticks to a rigid schedule so times may vary significantly. My best advice is the obvious: get going early to give yourself the best chance of catching your connections. Also regarding prices below, you may well be able to negotiate better prices for the taxis, I couldn't be bothered as they seemed fairly reasonable to me, maybe a little expensive but not ridiculous. 

My journey:

Minibus from Kars bus station, ( Kars Köy Otobüsleri Terminalı ) to Ardahan, departed approximately 9:30am, 15 lira

Arrived in Ardahan approximately 11.15amWalked to Ardahan bus station (on the otherside of town) google maps: Doğu Bereket Süt Ürünleri which is opposite

Minibus from Ardahan to Posof departed 12:30pm, 20 lira

Arrived Posof approximately 2pm

Taxi to Georgian border (approximately 15 minutes), taxis are easy to find in Posof, 40 lira

Cross border on foot.Unofficial taxi from border petrol station to Akhaltsikhe (approximately 25 minutes). 50 lari.- The Georgian border official offered to call me a taxi but I declined. Ask them to do so if you're unsure.

From Akhaltsikhe there are regular mini buses to Tbilisi. 

I started the morning at my hotel in Kars which, from what I'd seen the night before, was the probably prettiest building in the city (read: the only pretty building in the city). My plan was to take a minibus a couple hours north to the town of Ardahan and then find a connection from there towards the border. Not know what time or how regularly the bus to Ardahan left, I set off early (early for me...) and walked to the bus station, getting there for 9am. Kars is a rough, neglected looking city. Like the many shanty towns I had passed the previous day but on a larger scale, it was mostly a disordered blend of dilapidated buildings, dirt and rubble strewn streets and mean-faced stray dogs which, unlike the cheerful strays in Istanbul, all looked hungry and fed up enough to have a go at making you their next meal should you wander within snapping distance. Personally, I pluck a certain enjoyable thrill from these environments, perhaps because they stand in stark contrast to my safe and sanitised home in leafy southern England. But those who like their cities aesthetic and charming will find Kars grossly lacking. Regardless, I managed to reach the bus station in good time and rabies free. 

I found the ticket office and was pleased to hear that the next bus to Ardahan would be going in about 45 minutes (9.45am). As those with any backpacking experience will know, what would be an almost insufferably long wait for your morning bus to work, is generally a welcome relief when relying on ill-defined public transport in an unknown place. Having paid my 15 lira for the fare, I asked the man behind the desk for my 'bilet' (ticket). "No bilet..." he replied tapping a notepad list in front of him, "Name: Tourist!" I nodded my understanding and went outside to sit and smoke a cigarette at a table occupied by three dark and wizened old men drinking chai. A transit van pulled up 45 minutes later and as the passengers got off the driver hopped out and yelled "Ardahan. ARDAHANNN!!" I climbed aboard and once the bus was full, the ticket man leaned through the door and read list of Turkish and Kurdish names from his list, each one receiving a mumbled response from someone on board until finally, somewhat louder he called "TOURIST?", whilst pretending to look around the bus despite me sitting less than two feet away from his face. "Yes!" I said and he pointed at me; "ah! Tourist!" prompting a rumble of laughter among the other passengers. And so we set off, past the somehow even grittier city outskirts, onto a semi-finished highway and off into the hills. Road lanes are barely even acknowledged as a suggestion in this part of the world and our driver seemed to relish finding the racing line around each corner regardless of which side of the road that took us or how blind the corner he was attacking. The minibus was full on our departure from Kars but we stopped several times on the journey to pick up a small count of new passengers, who would shuffle, hunched over, further back into the aisle to accommodate each new addition, squeezing in until eventually there was an arse in my face, a leg in the arse in my face, and a dick in the leg in the arse in my face (not really but it felt that way.) 

A little under 2 hours later we arrived in Ardahan. I got off, walked in a 50 meter circle around the junction we'd stopped at and promptly realised that I hadn't the faintest idea where to go next. I'd assumed we would stop at the town bus station and I'd simply ask for the next bus towards the border but instead we seem to have terminated at the first roundabout in town and there wasn't another bus, nor a ticket office in sight. I approached a shop at random and inside found empty shelves tended by a group of men who were doing a roaring trade in conversation if nothing else. "Salaam." I greeted, "Errr Autobus Posof?" (Posof being the last stop before the Georgian border) "Autobus Geogistan?" Immediately one smartly dressed fellow got up from his chair and without saying a word to his comrades, took me arm in arm and started leading me down the street. Now just to be clear, the two men walking arm in arm thing is a perfectly normal custom in Turkey and is a sign of friendship. It is not however a perfectly normal custom in England and being walked down an unfamiliar road in a strange town, romantically linked to a fast-footed stranger with barely a word of understanding with which to communicate was an experience that grew more concerning the longer we walked... As the minutes and meters passed I became more suspicious. This chap seemed to be taking me clear across town and I had no way of knowing if his intentions were decent. "Autobus?" I repeated as we turned onto each new road, pointing ahead, and each time he would simply nod, and reply something long winded in Turkish. I was not overly worried. At worst I thought he would try to take me somewhere to buy something, or perhaps to a friend who would over quote me for a lift. Thankfully I was a fair bit larger than him so figured I could break free anytime should I need to. As we came round another corner I saw that this new road led clear out of town, with fields and hills straight ahead. Is he planning to walk me to Georgia, I wondered for a moment; either way fuck this I thought. Just as I resolved to shrug off this dangerous scam artist and tell him to leave me alone we passed a building and he stopped. "Autobusi." He stated, pointing at a parking lot pack with minibuses. He joined me into the ticket office and explained to the guy where I wanted to go and then shook my hand and went to leave. I stopped him and tried offering him 10 lira for his help but he waved it away, patted my cheek paternally and set off on the kilometer or so walk back to his friends. "Posof bus one hour." Said the ticket man. Another cigarette, another 3 old men drinking chai and at half past midday: "Posof. POSOFFF!". The second minibus ride was much less arse-face, dick-leggy than the first and as a result I found myself reluctantly falling asleep despite the increasingly wonderful scenery. Bumpy roads woke me an hour or so later and I found that we were driving higher into the spectacular snow patched mountains. I stuck my face and GoPro to the window (the GoPro literally, my face not so) and was almost disappointed when we pulled into Posof at around 2pm, though my bladder was relieved that it would soon be relieved. Realising I was making good time, I strolled a little way down through the village and was soon met by a truly magnificent view out over the hills, forests and mountains. I relaxed for 30 minutes before starting my way back into the village only to spot a taxi pull up back where I had been sitting. I ran back over and asked how much to the Georgian border. "40 lira" the young driver quoted me. "Okay, one moment." I replied and proceeded to pull my GoPro and suction cup attachment from my bag. He looked at me confused as I began to attach the setup to the hood of his car. "50 lira and this goes here?" I asked. He gave me a thumbs up and bemused nod so I stuck on the camera and jumped in. We nipped up the road to the taxi rank and he told me to wait one minute as he got out. I watched through the window as he poked his head into the taxi office, turned around, climbed into another taxi and drove away. I sat patiently for a couple minutes before an old man strolled out of the office and got into the driving seat. He pointed at my camera on the front off his car, said something in Turkish (probably along the lines of 'dumb place to put your camera stupid Englishman'), burst out laughing and then we set off. We drove out of the village and straight past the turning sign posted for the border. He uttered something else in Turkish and made a circle motion with his finger. "Okay." I said, clueless as to exactly what was 'okay'. A little down the road we pulled into a school playground and a girl of about 10 years old was ushered by someone into the back seat. "Hello!" I said in my gentlest possible voice. She looked at me with wide eyes and I noticed the kind, simple smile of severe autism on her face. The driver didn't greet the girl but instead murmured something again to me and made a twisty motion with his hand against the side of his head. From there we drove back up the road and this time did take the turning towards the border. A short but beautiful drive followed with the driver slowing down every time I lifted my phone to take a picture. After around 15 minutes we pulled up to the border. I detached my GoPro from the car and showed the driver and the girl the time-lapse video I had recorded of our drive. Neither seemed quite as impressed as I might've hoped. I waved them off and walked up to the border with a deep sense of satisfaction at the sight of the large golden letters reading GEORGIA. 

  Crossing the border itself couldn't have been easier. A couple passport checks, a couples stamps and the expected look of mild suspicion on the face of the Georgian border guard as he compared thick haired and clean shaven passport picture me to bald headed and beardy 2017 me. Bags went through a x-ray scanner and the final guard gave me a leaflet with helpful tourist info, shook my hand and said "Welcome to Georgia."  "Taxi?" I asked. "Petrol." He replied, pointing to a petrol station a few hundred yards up the road. I panted my way up the hill, wondering why there were approximately 100 trucks lined up waiting to enter Turkey but not one heading the other way. Reaching the petrol station I sat again to enjoy the view and take a couple snaps before heading over to a lively group of men sat outside the petrol station. 

 "Здравствуйте" I greeted them. "где Taxi, я хочу идти Akhaltsikhe". ("I want go Akhaltsikhe.") They all replied simultaneously and waited for my response. "Прости, я не понимаю". ("Sorry, I not understand.") Then one large man who had a smaller man sat on his lap, pushed the smaller man off and stood up, gesturing towards his car which was fully devoid of any taxi-like markings. "вы Taxi?" ("You Taxi?") I asked, to which the others laughed loudly and enthusiastically replied "Da, da, da" in unison.  "How much?" I asked him in Russian. "50." He answered "...Euro." His face deadpan. I frowned my disapproval but before I could respond he laughed and said "Lari! Lari!" and waved me towards his car. 

We set off, he handed me a cigarette and we began a broken conversation between my very limited Russian and his equally limited English. At one point he looked to me and asked simply "Vino?" ..."Vino?" I asked back. "Da! Ermm.. Vodka, Whiskey, Vino!" He unsuccessfully explain. I knew meant wine but wasn't at all sure what he meant by asking me "Wine?" "Da. Vino хорошо!"  ("Yes. Wine good!") I said still unsure he this was going. He nodded approvingly, pulled out his phone and began speaking to someone in what I guess was a blend of Russian and Georgian. A few minutes later we slowed and pulled up into a driveway. A fed up looking women came out of the house and handed him a plastic litre bottle of red wine which he passed straight to me. "Err, Спасибо!" I thanked him. "вы дом?" ("You house?") I asked and he confirmed and to me that the wine was homemade. I opened the bottle and handed him another cigarette from my own pack and lit one myself. We passed the rest of the journey in relative silence, me sipping and complimenting his wine and him occasionally pointing at something or other and telling me about it in Russian that went in my one ear and out the other. After maybe a 20 minute total drive we pulled into Akhaltsikhe and he dropped me at a hotel of his choosing. I agreed the price with the owner lady and dropped my things in the exceptionally basic room. As the driver was about to pull away he called me over and began telling me something in Russian which I again totally failed to understand. Eventually he gestured for me to get back in the car which I did, not sure where we would be headed next. Another semi-conversation ensued and my best guess was that he was going to drive me up to the castle above town which we had passed earlier. Seeing as the castle was my main reason for stopping in Akhaltsikhe and since by this point it was still only a little after 4pm I figured I'd accept the lift and see the place today rather than the next day as I'd orginally planned. We drove back through town and he deposited me at the castle with a warm goodbye and brotherly handshake. It was a good castle. Thanks for reading everyone. Check back next week when I'll have more exciting content for you detailing my boring day job! (Not really).