Days 32 - 37

In which cows win a game of Chicken, we chicken out of a climb, Georgian ‘Champagne’ eludes us, Juli has a birthday, we camp near some ‘flatulent’ mud and we pick up a new passenger.

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Day 32 (Tbilisi to Kazbegi)

Leaving Tbilisi was much like leaving Yerevan, and before long we were back in the other Georgia of beautiful mountain scenery and meadow flowers en route to another monastery, this time at Ananuri. To be honest, all these monasteries are beginning to blend. Juli would say that's not true and tell you how the stone is a different colour or carved in a different way or has different features, but that's not my take on it. More interesting were the two cows standing in the road playing chicken with on-coming traffic and winning.

From there we headed for Kazbegi and yet another monastery, this one we were told, a minimum three hour trek up a steep mountain path, so there's no way I'll be visiting that. On the way, as we climbed higher and higher following a river flowing with milky blue/grey glacial melt water, we passed a brand new ski resort complete with chair lifts and Swiss style chalets, shortly after which the tarmac ran out.

Just after the resort was a flat area where vehicles can pull off the road with one small cafe with just one dish on the menu: pork sashlik. Saving money again, Juli and I shared a plate and very nice it was too. Also there was a large circular platform - maybe 10 metres across - over-looking the valley below with a high wall round three quarters of it and painted with a strange montage of images which may, or may not, have had something to do with the story of Georgia, I couldn't really tell. Either way, we thought it was amazing that anyone had bothered to bring all the materials up and build the thing there. After lunch, we continued to the top of the pass (2,410m) and down the other side on a narrow road with several disused, single-lane tunnels along it, presumably there for when the road is threatened by rock falls or, possibly, avalanche.

The tarmac (complete with central white line) returned when we got to the bottom of the pass, and it wasn't long after that before we pulled into Kazbegi, now officially called Stephantsminda, but still known as Kazbegi: base camp for those fit enough to attempt an assault on the church and monastery of Tsminda Sameba (just keying the name on my phone - that's how I'm typing these posts now - is enough effort for me) and Kasbegi mountain itself.

After putting up our tent in the patch of muddy woodland Will had selected for our bushcamp, the rest of the afternoon was spent wandering round town (about ten minutes) and drinking tea. In the evening we enjoyed an excellent lasagne baked in Karen's excellent British Army surplus camp oven, before retiring to our re-sited tent. (After pitching, some randoms* turned up and pitched their tents right next to ours then lit a smokey fire up wind of us.)

[*Randoms are fellow travellers who are not truckmates.]

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Day 33 (Free day in Kazbegi)

We had another storm in the night, though nothing like the one in Armenia. Indeed, some sound sleepers in our group are getting so used to the sound of rain on their tents in the night that they can sleep straight through. that's not us yet, but the ear plugs and sleep mask (thanks, guys) do help.
Woke up far too early for breakfast, most of our truck mates having stayed up 'til 2.00 am (some until 6.00 am). Under such circumstances, mostly people just pitch in, and there was soon a little gang of us engaged in various food preparation activities.

Breakfast when camping is usually a variation on a theme. Staples include: toast with butter, jam, peanut butter and Marmite; Karen's own mix of rolled oats, dried fruit and bran flakes with powdered milk; last night's leftovers, if any. Added to this can be eggs - either as an omelette, eggy bread (French toast) or just boiled - fruit - mostly just watermelon, but sometimes a mixture - and yogurt.
After breakfast, having decided not to climb up to the monastery, we sat in the truck chatting with some of the others about this and that, and before we knew it, it was lunch time. We had a plate of stuffed dumpings called kalishiki, or something like that, one of the  local dishes I'd not yet tried.
Afterwards we went for another wander, bought some bananas, came back and, because it was our cook duty, chopped some fire wood and generally got ready for the evening meal. There was still plenty of time to kill, so I dug a fresh latrine. Well, it's something to do. Later we learnt from some of the others who'd made the climb that it wasn't such an effort after all and that the three hour estimate was for up and down, not, as we'd thought, each way, so we could have done it after all. Mind you, at least one other truckmate, when asked what the monastery was like, answered: "Alright. Seen one, seen 'em all," or words to that effect, so maybe we made the right call after all.

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Day 34 (Drive to Azerbaijan)

An extra early start for us this morning to put our own things away before making a start with breakfast. There had been no rain in the night, so the tent away dry for once. As the sun rose and the sky got lighter, just the very snow capped top of Mt.  Kazbegi, which previously had been shrouded in mist, was bathed in a golden orange light and we could tell we were in for another lovely day of gorgeous Georgian sunshine and scenery.

Breakfast concluded and everything put away, we set off back the way we had come two days earlier: up and over the pass, back past the cafe with the painted circular viewing platform, past the new ski resort, all the way down to the outskirts of Tbilisi. From there we took another road through more spectacular alpine scenery, and again, as we climbed, the tarmac ran out. That's the thing about the Georgian countryside: it's stunning, but you have to endure some pretty appalling roads to appreciate it.

Lunch was at a roadside cafe that did kebab (or 'kebap' as it's written in Cyrillic) but we'd under exchanged or overspent, so made do with some left over sausage from a previous packed lunch, some dates we’d bought in Turkey and the bananas we'd bought the previous day.

After lunch, we set off in search of a Georgian winery famous for its sparkling wines, sold as ‘Champagne’ in Russia. We were quite keen on this with a view to buying a stash for full moons and, of course, for Juli's birthday the next day. Unfortunately, we couldn't find it, so moved onto the Azerbaijan border early, which was a relatively painless and friendly experience, and, shortly after that, to our bushcamp.

Having been cook group the night before, it was our turn to sweep and wash the truck out, plus, since we were bushcamping, dig a latrine, for which I had an audience of two: a young goat herder and his mate, who seemed to find my efforts with a spade hysterical.

With a bit of time to spare until dinner, Adam and Martin decided to walk back to a service station they'd spotted on the road we'd just turned off in search of beer. A little while later, they returned in the back of a police car driven by the local chief of police. They weren't in any trouble; it seems that the service station didn't have any beer, so they knocked on the first door they found, which turned out to be this chief policeman's house. Apparently he invited then in, and shared his own private supply with them - for which he was reluctant to take any money - and drove them all the way back to camp.

After dinner (Thai green curry) we took turns using the shower tent then had an early night.
Later, after we'd gone to bed, some more locals came in cars and started messing about. We couldn't see what was going on, but were told later that the police came or were called to sort out the disturbance and one officer was detailed to stay with us all night to protect us.

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Day 35 (Sheki)

The next day was Juli's birthday, so she had a bit of a lie-in while I made her tea and Karen made her poached eggs on toast, which I took over for Juli to have in bed. At breakfast, Juli was given a makeshift card that everyone had signed and she had presents from me (a pair of orange ear buds) and  from Sarah (Irish; Photographer / Pilates instructor) who gave Juli a couple of tea bags from her own precious stash of Ireland's best brand. After breakfast there was one more surprise: the previous day, in the little place we stopped off at just before lunch, someone had spotted a cake shop and organised a whip-round. A coffee cream covered chocolate cake topped with chopped nuts had been purchased and was now presented - complete with candles - for Juli to cut to the massed singing of 'Happy Birthday'.

Now stuffed with both breakfast and birthday cake, we left - with police escort - for the nearest town to change money. Unfortunately, despite a large queue of locals, the bank remained closed. Some of the others still had GELs (Georgian Laris) to change. The Lari is a closed currency, meaning you're not supposed to take it in or out of Georgia. Fortunately, Will knew a man in the bazaar who would do this, er, unofficially, so they had some spending money.

By now, Juli and some of the others needed the loo, but knew not where to go. A friendly policeman knew, but couldn't give directions in English, so took us there himself. (On foot, this time, not in his police car.) Turned out the nearest convenience was next to local mosque, so while Juli did what Juli had to do, another friendly local showed me round inside that. I'd not been inside what you might call an ordinary every day, un-historic mosque before, and though plainer, still had some beautiful decorations and, of course, carpets everywhere. Apparently the loos were not nice, but it was another good example of the kindness shown to strangers we've found everywhere we been.

Driving on to Sheki, we noticed more examples of the contrasts I've written about before: big Mercedes and small Ladas with donkeys pulling carts full of hay, plus large posters of the president everywhere.

At Sheki, the first bank we tried was closed for the weekend. Fearing that if one was, the all were, we tried a smart looking hotel Juli had spotted. The man on reception, who spoke excellent English, was happy to change our money, though at a less favourable rate than the banks, which is usual for hotels. Brass in pocket, we went for lunch with a few of our truck mates to a very smart looking outdoor place with tables arranged around a central ornamental pool with fountains.

Brenda and Yvonne, twin sisters from Ireland (Brenda: conference organiser; Yvonne: medical measurement technician specialising in cardiology) noticed an Azerbaijani man they'd chatted to a day or so previously. He'd been practicing his English, learnt when he worked at Eriksons in Ireland. With his help we ordered some salad dishes to try and to accompany a lamb kebab, which turned out to be excellent lamb chops.

After lunch we all piled into a couple of taxis, which took us up to see the Khan's Palace, an 18th century house decorated in a Moghul style with exquisite figurative frescoes. The other main tourist attraction of the town - another but particularly notable Caravannessi - being closed for filming, Juli and I found a tea house with a number of little pagodas arranged around a hillside garden, where we had a birthday tea accompanied by plates of little sticky sweet treats.

Too soon, it was time to get back on the truck and continue on our way to the capital of Azerbaijan, Baku, across a wide plain towards high mountains.

That evening we camped in another quarry. If your reading this with a view to booking onto the trip next year, forget tent pegs, bring a supply of six or nine inch nails. Hammers are provided. For dinner, and one last birthday treat, we had roast lamb.

That night, one of the warmest so far, we were visited by two men on horseback who warned of snakes, but we didn't care, as we had chosen to sleep on the truck's roof again and look at the stars.

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Day 36 (Drive to Baku)

The road to Baku is dead long, dead straight and dead boring. Today, the start of week 6, we crossed a seemingly endless plain of scrubby nothingness, occasionally punctuate by what looked like new towns being built, though why anyone and/or who would want to live there I can't imagine.
After passing a number of smart looking service stations with WCs, we eventually stopped for lunch at an entirely unpromising little cafe, which didn't even look open. How (or why, for that matter) Will and Karen choose these places I don't know. Still, after some pointing at pictures of sheep and hens, some lamb and chicken kebabs were ordered with the help of yet another friendly local with some English. What came, however, was rather disappointing being two small chicken wings and a bit of spine. Mind you the beer was cheap and cold, so it wasn't all bad.

More boring driving until we reached Gobustan where these are some petroglyphs, some of which are 100,000 years old, though most date from 30,000 years ago, with others from the bronze age and even Roman times. Another UNESCO World Heritage site, they have a brand new interpretive centre that we wished we’d had more time to explore.

After that we went to our bushcamp site by the last attraction of the day: some mud volcanoes, which Lonely Planet describes as "10Km south of Qobustan is a weird collection of baby mud volcanoes, a whole family of "geologically flatulent" little conical mounds that gurgle, ooze, spit and sometimes erupt with thick cold grey mud. It's more entertaining than it sounds - even when activity is at a low ebb, you get the eerie feeling that the volcanoes are alive. And normally the peaceful site is completely deserted." Well, deserted they certainly weren't, but they weren’t exactly teaming with tourists either.

before we pitched our tent, it was time for a truck clean. This is something that happens about once a month or every six weeks, where everything comes of the truck, all the lockers are emptied and cleaned out and, usually, all the kitchen equipment is given an extra deep clean. however, we’d done that recently after the big storm in Armenia when everything got covered in mud, so this was a mini clean. it was also used as an opportunity for every one to move seats, an we’ve now lost our cherished front row position, but that’s only fair, although, as the only couple sharing a double seat, rather than having one each, we’ll miss the extra room the front seats have for our bags.

Another hot evening and very sticky in our tent, which you can't pitch without the fly sheet, as the poles that support the tent are fed through tunnels in the fabric of the fly. I think the perfect tent has still to be invented, possibly because the 'must have' list would contain to many conflicting design features. Maybe I'll give it some thought and blog about the matter further in future.

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Day 37 (Drive into Baku)

It didn’t take Will long to get us to Baku, Azerbaijan’s capital. More of a problem was getting to our hotel because of the number of road works making it impossible for our truck to get anywhere near the place. This meant a last minute switch, which has worked out quite well for us, as we’ve been put up in a lovely big double room, with sea views, AC and a well appointed en suite.

At one point, though, we weren’t sure we’d be in any hotel tonight, as Karen had got word from a new passenger we’ve just picked up (Jonny: from Weston-super-mare; now living in Windsor and a previous passenger with Will and Karen) that the ferry across the Caspian Sea to Turkmenistan was getting ready to go. Apparently it does this or goes late quite often. In fact it’s sort of wrong to think about it as leaving early or late, as the ferry doesn’t really have a timetable, more like it goes when it’s full. It’s certainly a law unto itself: last year, it stopped mid way and demanded more money for diesel to complete the crossing, so it could be quite an adventure.

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Whenever we do go, that’ll be it, not just for posts, but quite possibly tweets too for a while. Apparently, there are no mobile phone networks where we’re going and wont be until we get to Uzbekistan five or six days later, cheerio for now.

TTFN - N

Days 27–31

In which we get some laundry done; see some churches, monasteries and a Silk Route stopping off place on the way to Lake Sevan; get very muddy; cross back into Georgia; see something of Tbilisi and I kill my tablet.

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Day 27 (Yerevan)

So, having done the walking tour the night before, we felt that we’d seen most of what we wanted to see of Yerevan and elected to have a lazy internetting day. First, though, we needed to get some washing done and back the same day, as we’d be leaving in the morning.

[The following is the abridged version, the original being lost with my tablet.]

We’d been told the night before to bring laundry to reception, but when I did, they told me they were too busy, but that I could take it to a laundry service round the corner, which I did. However, there I was told - in sign language by the cleaner - that I was too early and to come back at 9.00. … At nine o’clock I was, apparently, still too early, but this wasn’t made clear until I’d sat in their reception for a further half an hour, by which time the cleaner had found a woman in a suit who spoke a little English. She told me 10.00. … Again, 10 o’clock was also too early, although at ten past ten, another English speaker confirmed that 10.00 was the right time for laundry. Finally at quarter past ten, the cleaner, who had taken me under her wing to some extent, greeted a new arrival, who turned out to be in charge of laundry and was able to receive my washing, weigh it and indicate that I should come back for it at six. That was it. No money, no receipt, no earthly reason why I had to wait and hour and a half to hand over my small bag of smalls to a specific person, who, it just so happened, was late for work that morning.

[The original version had all sorts of colour and addition information about how the laundry place was also a beauty parlour / cosmetic procedure centre, the types of people coming and going and generally a great deal more humour, which has temporarily escaped me post tablet disaster.]

Returning to the hostel, I collected Juli from our room and the two of us went out for a brunch of more crepes followed by a day spent uploading photos and blog posts, etc.  That evening, after collecting our laundry, which was ready as promised - washed, dried, ironed and folded for about £1.30 – we stopped of at a supermarket to buy lunch things for the next two days an went out for dinner.

[Sorry this post is so boring; as I say, the original was loads better and explained why, having miscalculated how much money we needed for Yerevan, we had to eek out a very meagre budget and included references to bananas and German sausages. Hey ho.]

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Day 28 (drive to Lake Sevan)

Leaving the city and driving out into the countryside, we began again to see the other Armenia of poor housing, bad roads and stoney mountain scenery. First stop was Khor Virap monastery, which sits under mount Ararat, though the mist meant our photos don’t really do justice to it. Mount Ararat, it seems is some thing of a mecca for expat Armenias, who, we’re told,  are frequently moved to tears when they see it. This despite the fact that Mount Ararat it actually in Turkey.

Next stop was another collection of old and pretty churches and a monastery called Noravank. Access is via a really tall and narrow gorge, pouring into which we saw a single waterfall, so high and narrow that the water, on this day at least, never reaches the ground, having evaporated half way down.

Leaving Noravank, we began to climb through alpine meadows full of wild flowers on our way up to and through the Selim Pass (2,400m) via one of Armenias many ancient Caravanesai, or Silk Route stopping off places for merchants making their way between Europe and The Orient. The one we stopped off at dates back to 1332.

Dropping down, though only a few hundred meters, we reached the shores of Lake Sevan, one of the world largest and highest fresh water lakes and immediately wished we hadn’t bothered. Apart from it’s size – it really is huge – it has very little to recommend itself, being partly industrial, partly ‘sea-side-y’ plus a few dilapidated chalets and rusty caravans. I wouldn’t want to swim in it and I certainly wouldn’t want to eat anything caught in it.

Putting Lake Sevan behind us, we passed through a really long and barely lit tunnel with only a single carriageway in each direction, which was bad news for the traffic going in the opposite direction to us, stuck as they were behind a broken-down car being pushed along by it’s former occupants.
shortly after emerging from the tunnel, Will turned of on what, judging by the way we climbed and turned back on ourselves, had been the old, pre tunnel road. Certainly it was uncared for and, aside for ourselves and a few ‘parked-up’ cars, more or less unused. Will turned off onto what seemed to be a completed unused track and pulled up for the night at the junction with another unused track. Karen looked at the sky and decided we needed to put the truck tarp up before attending to our own tents, which we did.

This turned out to have been a good call, as not long after she started to preparing our roast chicken dinner – she uses a very large iron box on a metal grill that stands over the camp fire for the purpose; we’re all hoping that, one day, cakes may come out of it too – the now familiar sights and sounds of a thunderstorm filled the evening air. With the rain came the wind, which at one point blew the tarp down, narrowly missing Karen and crushing one of the aluminium washing up bowls. Meanwhile, the ground was turning into thick, claggy mud that added inches to the soles of our shoes. Then, just as we were getting into the Glastonbury spirit, some bright lights attached to a large 4x4 came over the brow of the ‘unused’ track and the owner requested us to “please move your transportation.” Karen, now very close to dishing up, was very apologetic, but pointed out that it was going to be a sight easier for them to go around us than for us to move a very large truck, tarp attached as it was, through all the mud. Seeing the sense in this, the driver manoeuvred his way around and we tucked into our delicious chicken dinner.

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Day 29 (return to Georgia)

The next morning, after more rain in the night, it was still very wet and muddy and Will decided it would be best if we were off the truck and well away from it when he attempted to reverse back up the now very muddy track. In the event his skill and experience meant that this was accomplished with very little wheel spin and, after washing the mud from our shoes and feet, we all got back on board and on our way to the Georgian border and Tbilisi beyond.

We arrived at the border around late lunchtime when very little – certainly not us – was moving in or out. After a bit of waiting, the men in white shirts with epilates finished their beers and cigarettes and we were allowed through to the first checkpoint. To cut a long story short, the procedure was similar, but in reverse to the crossing into Armenia from Georgia: slow and bureaucratic with few facilities on the Armenian side; smooth and friendly with ice cold cokes on the Georgian side.

Tbilisi is another large capital city that contrasts markedly with the country in which it sits. That said, in my opinion, it has very much more to recommend it than Yerevan does and is a fascinating mix of old and new, of which more later. We had to use a different hostel to the one Will and Karen had planned to use, as it had apparently ceased trading. Fortunately, the hostel in Yerevan had put us in touch with their sister hostel in Tbilisi, which turned out to be almost a carbon copy, right down to the beds, bedding and excellent shower facilities. What’s more, Will managed to parked the truck right in the centre of things, just a stones throw from the hostel.

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Day 30 (Tbilisi)

After the included breakfast, we took the free walking tour of the city. Despite the heat, the pace and frequent opportunities for shade meant that we didn’t suffer too badly and where able to pay attention to our knowledgeable guide as he showed us round a couple of churches, a large and popular park, a very (and controversially*) modern new bridge ironically named ‘The Bridge of Peace’, some old streets and the ancient citadel, which sits atop a commanding hill with fabulous views out across the whole city.

[* So controversial in terms of its position with respect to the UNESCO listed old city, that its construction resulted in UNESCO de-listing it.]

After the tour, we took the cable car back down into the park, found somewhere for lunch then went back to the hostel to shower and relax with a little light internetting.

Later, once the day had cooled somewhat, we ventured out again in search of dinner. This was followed by a walk to Republic Square then down to and across the river, through the busy park, via coloured, musical fountains, and the cable car back up to the citadel, from which the night-time views, particularly of the illuminated Peace Bridge, where stunning.

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Day 31 (Accidental Death of a Tablet)

This morning, after lots of blog-post writing on my very useful tablet computer - which I also use for looking at my photos, checking e-mails, browsing and the occasional tweet – its battery needed charging before I could finish writing my post, so we went down to the truck, and while Juli kept the locals talking, I retrieved my multipurpose mains charger. Truck locked, we returned to the dorm. The rest you know already.

Later, once I’d calmed down a bit, we went out for a light lunch and hatched a plan for the rest of the day: me, (re)writing on Juli’s netbook; Juli, a sauna and massage at the sulphur baths with Sandy, Sarah and Lindsey.

She’s just got back, so I’ll close now.

Tomorrow, we leave Tbilisi for two or three night’s of bush camping on our way to the border with Azerbaijan, followed by three more on the way to Baku, where we have two night in a hostel that may or may not have wi-fi. I’m going to be writing (very slowly so probably briefly) on my phone from now on in the hope of being able to Bluetooth the text to Juli’s netbook then copying and pasting one way or another from there.

TTFN - N

Disaster!

This morning, having nearly emptied the battery on my tablet after a lot of writing yesterday, we went down to where the truck was parked to retrieve my mains charger. (Normally I can recharge using one of the truck's cigarette lighter sockets when we're rolling.) I brought the mains charger back into our room to use. I don't know if it was because the room was dark or if it was because I'd not used this particular charger for a while - it's a multipurpose one bought from Maplin, not my usually one from home - but I forgot that the interchangeable plugs/sockets of different sizes can be put on such that the tip is either positive or negative, and guess what: I forgot to check and the 50/50 chance went against me. Then consequence is I've blown up my tablet, the thing I was using to write my posts on drive days or when Juli is using her netbook to upload photos, which usually takes a long time in most hostels/campsites. All of which means you won't be getting such long and detailed posts from me any more.

(Did someone just cheer?)

Magic Toothbrush

If you believe in the Tooth Fairy - and who doesn't - you'll have no difficulty in accepting the premise of a magical toothbrush, and you may be interested to learn that Nick has one.

It looks like an ordinary Oral-B Pulsar, a manual brush with a small battery that makes it vibrate. However, whereas most users report a battery life of about two months, Nick's has been going strong since well before Christmas! He uses it twice a day, everyday, but it just keeps going.

So what's the problem? Well, the thing is, the battery - a standard AAA - isn't designed to be changed, and surely, one day, it's going to buzz it's last. Now, some people do change the battery - you'll find 'how to' videos on YouTube, if you look - but it's not recommended and he doesn't want to take two brushes.

He's bought a replacement brush (from a different manufacturer that rhymes with 'soul mate') which is designed to have it's battery changed, but what if that offends the Tooth Fairy? She seems to be kindly enough to small children with endearing, gappy grins, but an adult who's rejected her special gift? The consequences of insulting magical beings is well documented in literature. Tinkerbell getting the Lost Boys to shoot arrows at Wendy; Hippogriffs: "Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."; and of course, we all know what happened to Lycurgus.

So, what should Nick do? Continue to believe in fairies and magic, or trust to reason and rationality?

Faith Vs Logic: discuss.

Something Borrowed....

Spent today packing and repacking my bag and think I have finally got it right. Tomorrow will be doing the same with my day pack and hoping that everything fits in.

Reminds me though, that my kit list has 'Something old,  Something new...and Something blue'  but not yet 'Something borrowed'. 

If you were off on your own trip soon, what would you not be able to do without?

Using Windows Live Writer

This is an experiment to see if Windows Live Writer is going to be useful to us as we travel. The idea is that you can write blog posts even while you’re off line, as you go, then, when you’re on-line, you can send all your posts; a bit like drafting e-mails off-line then sending them all when you connect.

In case the concept of being off-line is unfamiliar to you, it’s when you’re not connected to the internet. Yes, that can happen. Weird as it may seem to some of you, this used to happen to us all the time at Fellside, so we’re more than familiar with the concept.

Introducing Francis

[Francis Bacon, Pig Cam]

Still taking the tablet

Spent an enjoyable evening tinkering with my tablet computer - an Archos 80 IT, in case you're interested - trying to get it to work with various other bits of kit such as a camera, an MP3 player, various memory sticks and a memory card reader. Most things have to be connected via a powered USB hub, which arrived earlier this week, along with a series of power gadgets (transformers, converters, adapters, etc.) for which we'll also have to find bag room.
[To upload the accompanying photo of some of the kit and caboodle I'm talking about took seven separate gadgets and cables.]
Last time we went travelling, we had none of this, just one camera each, the film - yes, film - to go with them and a few spare batteries. Ah, the low-tech good old days of... ONLY TEN YEARS AGO!
Stroll on.