Just for the record, beaches really should look like this:

While mum and Josef were sleeping in, Adrian, Amy, and I got up early to see the Brussels Flower Carpet. Most postcards of Brussels’ Grand Place show it decked out in a magnificent floral display of nearly a million flowers. However, if one was to turn up to the Grand Place on any random day, on would only have a 0.4% chance of seeing it like that, as the Bloementapijt / Tapis de Fleurs is only present for three days every two years.

Happily, today is one of those days. While Adrian complained about the position of the sun in the sky and other such things, we climbed up the stairs of the Town Hall to view the carpet from above. This year the theme celebrates Belgium’s presidency of the EU (even though we haven’t had a government ourselves for months). We spotted the emblem of the city (an iris), the patron saint (the archangel Michael slaying a demon), and the letters “EU” woven into the display. A cute little fountain also spurted out from the centre.

It was a gorgeous morning with a bright blue sky, the sun bring out the colours of the begonias and sparkling in the water. We then celebrated our accomplishments with waffles at the secret Waffle Express hidden under the stairs at Central Station.

As we had the rare use of a car, we made sure to visit a few of the more isolated World Heritage places along the way – the Château royal de Fontainebleau, la Basilique Sainte-Marie-Madeleine de Vézelay, and the Abbaye de Fontenay. However, the highlight for me was the Ferme du Château de Saint-Fargeau that I insisted that we stop and visit.

As soon as we walked through the door we were greeted by three hungry goats. I bent down to greet them and the white one promptly ate my map. I realised that it was best to return to reception and buy a bucket of feed. Returning with adequate supplies, they frantically ate out of my hands as if they hadn’t seen food for days. Adrian and I explored the farm further and found donkeys, piglets, calves, lambs, chicks, and ducklings to feed, then returned to the goats. They happily finished off the feed, with one little kid getting so enthusiastic that the bucket got stuck on her head until she managed to shake it off. The Ferme du Château de Saint-Fargeau may not have World Heritage status, but I still think it contributes to the common heritage of humanity.

Firstly, the city held a grand parade on my behalf. The theme of Zinneke parade was “The Dinner Table”, and was filled with colourful participants from all the different neighbourhoods of Brussels. One smart idea was to shape the parade into a loop that started everywhere at the same time. That way, no matter where one was on the route, one didn’t have to wait for it to begin – much better than the two hour rain-soaked wait that we spent at the end of the route in Dendermonde.

We also had a surprise Aussie houseguest for the weekend – Anna, one of the original Canberran Cookies. She joined us for lunch at one of our favourite restaurants – it’s called Houtsiplou, but we can never remember the name. They serve great modern cuisine, and they also let you draw in their bathroom.

On the Saturday night we hosted an evening of cosmos, champagne, and cupcakes. I ordered mini-cupcakes from this cute little shop down the street called Merrily’s. Truly, to have both a castle and a cupcake shop within a few minutes walk is a wonderful thing. As is tradition here, I brought some into work on the Friday, then picked up a fresh batch for the party on Saturday.

One thing that I really like about parties here is that many people are newcomers and eager to mingle. In Brussels most everyone has an interesting story to tell about how they got here and what they did once they arrived. While I was a bit sad that I couldn’t celebrate with my family and friends back in Australia, I was very glad that Anna was able act as their representative. However, when I looked around our living room and saw all the fascinating people who we have met in the past year, I decided that Belgium is not such a bad place to turn 30.

We took a very sweaty and unpleasant trip into the interior in a tiny bumpy little van, however we were rewarded with the chance to explore a field filled with bubbling mud volcanoes. There were large thick puddles that were slowly oozing down the slope, tiny ponds simmering energetically, and even one vent that occasionally made a sound like a very old man every and then shot crumbling dirt high up in the air.

Nearby, we also had the chance to view an astonishing array of petroglyphs at Gobustan, at least 4000 years old. By this time it was high noon, and the sun was unbearable. I could only manage to dash out for a few minutes to examine these carvings before again seeking refuge in the shade. It made me remember my Australian summers, and I wondered how I coped with months of this endless heat.

The natural gas deposits were incorporated into the religions of the Zoroastrians and the Indian. While John and Adrian rehydrated themselves, I visited the Atəşgah fire temple in Surakhani that was used first as an ancient Zoroastrian shrine and then as a Hindu temple. It was actually cooler to stand in the shade next to the fire than out in the sun filled courtyard. The current stone temple that envelopes the “eternal flame” was built around 1745. This flame is now less eternal, as the vast number of oil rigs around the site exhausted the natural gas deposits in 1969, and now the gas is supplied by an artificial pipeline and switched off every night.

From paata.ge

Back in the wealthy capital of Baku, the weather became enjoyable sometime after 9pm. We soothed our parched selves with some fresh pineapple juice and strolled along the beautiful promenade by the Caspian Sea. We said farewell to John and started packing our bags for our departure from the Caucuses.

To further enhance the illusion of living in the past, we were lucky enough to witness traditional dancing and a Mugham opera that were performed in the central courtyard. A more modern touch was the half-dozen cameras positioned throughout the place, as the performance was screened on National television the next day.

I crossed a bridge, looking down at the cows of ambiguous nationality grazing below me, and walked towards a twelve year old boy carrying some sort of large rifle. In front of me I could see a very large “Azərbaycan” sign in front of me, but I decided not to take the risk and get a photo. Happily, not all on the internet are so risk averse.

Photo from wikipedia.

Once I was across the border, I surrendered my passport with its visa, and all our bags were searched for anything Armenian – postcards, maps, even the Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan Lonely Planet. They carefully examined our water bottles to ensure that the writing on it was Georgian and not Armenian. There was some debate over some Georgian postcards, but finally we were all returned our passports and permitted to enter the Republic of Azerbaijan for the next chapter of our adventure through the Caucasus.

When we reached the base of the mountain, our guide NeNe gave us a choice: we could hike up for two hours, or we could ride up in a Soviet-era jeep. I felt as the youngest members of the group we should trek up the mountain, but John and Adrian were fans of motorised transport. The rest of the group mocked us for our slothfulness. Even NeNe chastised us, telling us with a smile that we were very lazy and we should hike up, and we will miss out on many amazing sights. Adrian asked if there would be bears, and she told us with a straight face that there would be hundreds of them.

I was convinced to take the jeep, and we chose a little purple 4×4 AvtoVAZ Lada to take us to the top of the mountain. Our driver knew the rocky one-way path very well, expertly manoeuvring across the rocks and the mud, and even reversing down the hill to let another car pass us. Abundant wilderness and emerald foliage trees embraced the car as it tackled the precipitous incline.

After a bumpy but beautiful 40 minute trip, we reached the top and saw the Gergiti Church ahead of us. We strolled through a vast field of wildflowers, passing through a heard of cows munching on the flora. I wasn’t able to enter the church (no dress, no entry), but I was able to run through a massive meadow of millions of marigolds. We then perched on top of an old stone wall to enjoy our picnic lunch of potato salad and coleslaw.

An hour later, we saw the first members of the hikers emerge from over the crest, looking red, sweaty and exhausted. I greeted NeNe brightly, and asked her if she had seen any bears. “I hate you”, was her exhausted reply. Suddenly the weather changed, and the blue sky disappeared behind gloomy grey clouds. We decided to return back to the village in our Lada, and the hikers had to turn around too, in order to make it back by 3pm. As soon as we hopped in our car, it started to hail, and I am ashamed to admit that we might have waved to the hikers as they trudged through the mud on the way down.

As we drove through the village, our chauffeur stopped to talk to a farmer with six spotted piglets. I hoped for a second that we were going to give all the wiggly piglets a ride in the jeep, but sadly we kept on driving without taking on any porcine passengers. While the rest of the group limped back into town, we spent the afternoon in a very low-frills café and its shrill Georgian pop music. The end of the tape would bring short-lived relief, until our hostess would emerge from the other room to turn over the cassette to ensure the performance was repeated.

In 1990, this region was full of enormous factories, such as those for extracting copper and producing steel. Along the coast and in the mountains, huge Intourist resorts were under construction, and the Georgian mountains were the training grounds of the Soviet Olympic skiing team. Nuclear power provided electricity across the region, and cheap gas was supplied from the Russia SSR.

After the collapse of the USSR in 1991, the simmering discontent in the region plunged into civil war, rife with ethnic cleaning and countless refugees. Armenia went without electricity for five years, and without gas for ten years. All construction stopped, and the factories shut down. Each country had been specialised to perform a specific function, and now that the supply lines had been cut, everything was paralysed.

Driving through the Caucasus, it is hauntingly easy to imagine life immediately after 1991. The giant factories still stand as monoliths on the outskirts of the cities, and the concrete skeletons of giant holiday resorts still ring Lake Sevan.

Now these countries must slowly rebuild themselves, redefine their identity and find a way to sustainability and progress, all while dealing with internal and external conflicts. Belarus has done an amazing job, and Minsk glimmers with promise and affluence. Armenia still bears the deepest scars of poverty and conflict, and has allied itself with Russia, its major acceptor of its exports.

Georgia has lost much from its war with Russia, and now looks to the West for its future, with many signs in English and Council of Europe flags visible throughout the city. Tbilisi has a very pleasant feel to it, with streets lined with cafes and wide boulevards for evening promenades. Georgia has a way to go before it is eligible for EU membership, but it is encouraging to see it inching away from war and slowly towards open communication and dialogue.

The day met an adorable end when John discovered a puddle of puppies sunning themselves on a footbridge. They ran up to me enthusiastically, and responded blissfully to a belly rub. Whenever I moved away, the followed me and plopped down at my feet, begging for more attention. I felt like sneaking one into my bag, but they appeared to be well loved by the farming family that lived nearby.

Image from newzar

We weren’t able to visit South Ossetia, as the borders are still closed and it is not considered safe. However, we were able to spend a lovely day by the Black Sea in Batumi, the capital of The Autonomous Republic of Adjara. Our guide told us that they manage all local politics and issues internally, but international decisions are still made by Georgia.

This is the most popular holiday spot in Georgia, with a long stretch of (grey pebbly) beach lined by cafes, restaurants, and apartment blocks. We ate our lunch in a bungalow, looking out across the water appreciating the cool breezes that mitigated the heat. There is a million-dollar statue of Medea holding Jason’s Golden Fleece in the main square, and we wandered through the park watching children running through fountains in the bright summer sun. Happily, this state seems to have found an equilibrium that permits autonomy of its inhabitants while allowing integration with Georgia.

After he had finished, he asked if any of us wanted to have a go. I volunteered, and constructed a terribly lopsided and unstable pot. The rest of the tour group suddenly became experts at pottery, giving unhelpful advice such as “spin it faster” and “use more water”. At the end, my pot was graded 3/10.

Adrian had a go after me, and his pot earned him 5/10, and the father was actually able to salvage it into a small bowl, to be sold in the pottery shop next week.

After our adventures in pottery, I met the baby chicks and the baby calf in the small garden outside the house. The chicks ran around with tiny cheeps, and the adorable calf greeted me with big brown eyes and a big lick from its long black tongue.

We bough a clay hedgehog piggy bank from the pottery store to celebrate the occasion. I am really enjoying the chance to get out into the countryside. Life here is such a contrast to the big city. While I am saddened by the poverty and the lack of opportunity and access that is so visible here, I am also finding it very relaxing to be able to take some time out to live a simple life surrounded by nature.

On the way back into town, our bus weaved through dozens of sheep, as well as a few donkeys. Our guide told us that these were all the sheep from a particular Yezdi village, carefully hearded by professional shepherds sitting upon patient horses while whistling to their eager sheep dogs.

What is that boat on top of the mountain? It is Noah’s Ark from the Christian Bible.

But God remembered Noah and all the wild animals and the livestock that were with him in the ark, and he sent a wind over the earth, and the waters receded. Now the springs of the deep and the floodgates of the heavens had been closed, and the rain had stopped falling from the sky. The water receded steadily from the earth. At the end of the hundred and fifty days the water had gone down, and on the seventeenth day of the seventh month the ark came to rest on the mountains of Ararat. ~ Genesis 8:1-4

All the animals and all the creatures that move along the ground and all the birds—everything that moves on the earth—came out of the ark, one kind after another. Then Noah built an altar to the LORD and, taking some of all the clean animals and clean birds, he sacrificed burnt offerings on it. The LORD smelled the pleasing aroma and said in his heart: “Never again will I curse the ground because of man, even though every inclination of his heart is evil from childhood. ~ Genesis 8:19-21

Noah, a man of the soil, proceeded to plant a vineyard. When he drank some of its wine, he became drunk and lay uncovered inside his tent. ~ Genesis 9:20-21

Our guide took us to Etchmiadzin Cathedral (Էջմիածնի եկեղեցի), the oldest Christian church in the world that was built by a state in 301 CE. In their treasury, they proudly displayed items that they claimed were the lance that pierced Jesus during his crucifixion, the right arms of St John the Baptist and Saint Gregory the Illuminator, as well as a piece of wood from Noah’s Arc itself. They had quite a collection.

The Armenians really like their apricots. It was even the subject of their Eurovision song, titled Apricot Stone (Apricot stone / Hidden in my hand / Given back to me /From the motherland ).

And it is one of the colours of their flag:

We were approached several times by people on the street selling apricots or asking if we wanted to take photos of them. Finally they managed to convince us to try some tried apricots and nuts, and they were delicious. We picked some up for our forthcoming picnic lunch. Maybe they are onto something, after all.

The Radziwiłłs were avid hunters, and we saw a photo of a room filled with antlers and other hunting trophies. We heard a story about an elderly Radziwiłł who still insisted on hunting even though he was wheel-chair bound. His grandsons lured an old bear our for him to shoot, but the bear was not killed instantly and lunged towards the old man. His hunting dog leapt to protect him, killing the bear but losing her life in the process. The old man commissioned a statue of the dog, and now she sits overlooking the parkland, a medallion draped around her neck.

Around 2pm I asked Natasha if we were going to have lunch, and she looked surprised. Even though this was a six hour tour, no meal was scheduled. We didn’t end up eating until we got back to Minsk in the late afternoon. Our patterns of life are a little different from the Belarusians.

Next we visited the Mir Castle, which was also claimed by the Radziwiłłs in 1568, and was often used a summer house. There was a long line to get into the interior courtyard. Natasha and I tried sneaking in the exit, but Adrian hung back, and we were shoed out by a staff member. Natasha argued fervently in Russian, but the staff member stood their ground. So she took us on a tour of the exterior, and then we had a long drive through green meadows back to the capital.

Photo from eurovision.tv

After a long flight via Warsaw, I paid my 2 euro compulsory medical insurance, had my visa scrutinised by passport control, and I was permitted to enter Belarus. As we drove from the airport to the hotel, we were astonished. I had expected Minsk to be a crumbling vestige of the soviet era, but it was bright and spotless. Tall, brightly painted apartment blocks sprung out of the ground, separated by spacious boulevards and perfectly manicured gardens. Minsk was completely decimated by the Nazis in 1941, but rebuilt by Stalin in the 1950s as a model of a prosperous Soviet city.

Photo by novocortex

The USSR may have crumbled, but Minsk is thriving. Every street we walked down was perfectly maintained, the roads were wide and smooth, the parks full of flower gardens. The entrances to the Metro stations were glad in red marble, and many new apartment building were under construction. Independence Avenue is 48 meters wide including spacious pavements. The soviet aesthetic was very apparent, with the architecture a fusion of strong lines and open planes. Our hotel, Planeta, built in 1980 for the Moscow Olympic Games, has 310 rooms, and is only one of many other giant hotels situated around the capital.

Photo by Jassy-50

During our first evening we strolled through the nearby park, soaking up the warm evening sunshine. The Belarusian Rouble has quite high denominations, useful as our hotel room cost around 100,000 Roubles. Interestingly, the banknotes go all the way from 100,000 down to 1 Rouble. This means that at a wishing well, locals throw notes into the fountain.

Photo by Bogsnes

The park was full of groups of very glamorous women, while most of the only men that we saw were clustered around an outdoor screening of the World Cup. I felt so frumpy in my travel clothes. The Belarusian women displayed their tiny figures and long legs in short dresses and high heels, getting dressed up to the nines even for a stroll by the river. Maybe the butterfly wings only come for very special occassions.

So on the 15th of January, I bought two front-row seats for the show on the 5th of June. It was a long wait, but this weekend we finally popped over to Germany to see the show.

It was fantastic. The story was a little confusing – a white bird loses his wings and lands in a forest inside a volcano. He then gives a feather to a lizard, who is captured by blue creatures. The white bird is then entranced by a shiny stretchy creature, and then they get married to the jubilation of fire animals.

However, the acrobats were astonishing, and I often found myself holding my breath in anxiety. As the acrobats soared over us, my heard leaped with their beauty and grace. The sound-track was created with live musicians and a singer. The singer would stand to the side of the action, spreading their arms as they seemed to narrate the actions in a mysterious tongue. Other creatures would also creep around the background, climbing trees or attempting to mimic the acrobats.

Being so close to the performers was great. They would frequently make eye contact with us, and I loved seeing their smiles when they landed a difficult move. After the show ended, they all came out to receive their standing ovation. The same performers have been touring since 2002, yet they still seem to have the energy of opening night.

Adrian Dennis/AFP/Getty Images