Wet wool

Morning rush in the deep, dank Tbilisi metro. After three days in Yerevan with highland sunshine and brandy, Tbilisi turns out to be a Paris wrapped up in wet wool. The tree-lined boulevards and the impressive façades along Rustaveli Avenue are all there but reality comes back and bites in the shape of thousands of refugees, deplorable poverty and cafes empty of their tourist clientele.

Tomorrow it is off to Batumi at the Black Sea coastline.