The Caucasus - colorful and wild.

"The guest is God!" With this deeply religiously rooted conviction, many families in the Caucasus welcome us. They spontaneously open their house and invite us. We realize: we like to travel with these divine blessings and enjoy the nature and the warmth of the people.

Two and a half months ago we came to Georgia. Today we write to you high up from the mountains in the south of Armenia. There we are watching leopards on their way from Turkey to Iran.

We are happy to share with you what we experienced in the Caucasus. Our travelogs are mainly about people and their stories. Besides that, we experience an incredible amount every day. Too much for this report.

"Phew, we were lucky again!", Carsten is happy when he is standing in front of the door of our host family in Tbilisi with two repaired bicycles. In one day, he visited eight bicycle stores in the Georgian capital. At one he found a used rim for Anna's bike. At another, a new inner tube. And Irakli at Bike Point managed to correct the radial runout from our rear wheel with simple tools. Spare parts are difficult to get in Georgia, but the people have a lot of manual skills. Since then we ride noticeably more carefully and pay attention to every little pothole.

We leave Tbilisi on a very hot day heading north. It feels like it takes forever to get out of the city. The traffic and the exhaust fumes are unbearable. And it feels like we are only going uphill. The Caucasus lies before us. Big and mighty. Tired from the day we pitch our tent in a garden restaurant. The owners are very cordial. "Please take our key for the house in case it gets too cold for you during the night", Aaron tells us. Anna plays with his daughter and enjoys the two dogs.

The next day we climb steeply uphill into the national park of the capital. We follow a sign for a bear reserve. Suddenly we are standing in front of an enclosure with 19 Caucasian brown bears - among them 5 very young bears. They are so small and cute - just like teddy bears. "Until 2012, bears were allowed to be kept as pets in Georgia. Many were caged in front of restaurants as an attraction. Then suddenly that was banned. And everyone wanted to get rid of their bears. So we founded this reserve on private initiative," Soso, the founder, explains to us as he brings food for the animals in his car. Since the bears are used to humans, they would not be viable in the wild. Anna recalls the visit of bear researcher David Bittner to her school. We help feed them and make friends with bear keeper Nelly. She tells us how she fed the cubs with the milk bottle on her lap. We are fascinated and pitch our tent next to the reserve.

At night Carsten hears loud squealing and screaming in the reserve. We are the only ones in the area. There is no light. And our headlamp is too weak to see anything in the enclosure. The next morning, Anna is the first to get up and walk to the cubs' enclosure. She comes back excited: "Daddy, mommy, I only see three baby bears. Two are gone!" Carsten jumps out of his sleeping bag and finds them in the adult bear enclosure. There, the two cubs are lying on the ground - dead. We are sad and upset. How could this happen? Nelly bursts into tears when she hears about it. It is the first time since the existence of the reserve that a bear dies. Soso explains the cause a little later. It had rained during the night and the electric fence had failed for a short time. During this time, the two bears must have climbed over the fence of their enclosure. Later they sought refuge with the big bears and squeezed through the bars. Unfortunately, they were not yet strong enough to defend themselves.

We are dead sad and would like to leave. "Why don't you come to my place? I have a big garden!" says Nelly. She lives in the village of Tezami, 4 kilometers of dirt road from the enclosure. We drive there and find a big house with a huge garden. We pick strawberries and communicate with hands and feet and a little English. Nelly tells us how she raised 4 children. Her husband Badri ran a carpentry business in Tezami until the area was declared a national park and he was no longer allowed to cut trees. He was diagnosed with rectal cancer 2.5 years ago. He moved to Barcelona to live with his daughter and spent two years in a Spanish clinic receiving treatment. Recently, he came back to Georgia. But instead of returning to his home, he decided to live in a monastery with a monk friend. There he feels especially close to God.

Every morning Nelly prays for her husband. In the entrance area of the house, she has built an altar in a corner. An eternal light burns there at night. Every Saturday, her children come from Tbilisi to visit. Anna immediately makes friends with Dani, the son of Nelly's daughter Tata. Every Sunday, the whole family visits Badri in the monastery. For this they drive 2.5 hours by car to the southern part of the country. We are unsure if we should stay. At our home, guests in this situation would be out of place. "We will see you next Saturday. You are doing our mother good. Stay!", Nelly's daughter Shorena says goodbye to us. We don't need to be told twice and are happy to stay.

In our first week with Nelly, Jonathan visits us. We met him at Annie's

on the island of Hvar in Croatia. Jonathan made his way from Karlsruhe to Nepal by bike after school. We talk about being on the road and the challenge of finding your footing alone or in a group. Jonathan tells us that we seem more relaxed than we did 9 months ago on Hvar. "I realized that it's good for me to return home soon," he reflects. Jonathan wants to be back with his family by the end of the year. But not without reaching his goal of Nepal. We keep our fingers crossed for him.

Next Saturday the whole family will come again. We celebrate Nelly's 57th birthday. Together with Jonathan we made a mobile out of driftwood from the river. On little cards we wrote what we admire about Nelly: "You are a talented gardener", "You can cook great" and "You are very hospitable". And we baked a Linzertorte. Nelly is visibly touched by our gift. We barbecue together and listen to Georgian songs. Nelly's daughter Shorena is part of a trio for traditional polyphonic folk music. Badri has also come. Shorena says with a twinkle in her eye when we say goodbye: "See you next Saturday".

We stay with Nelly and her family for four weeks. We cook together Georgian dishes like Khachapuri and Churchella. Nelly's daughter Tata and her son Dani decide to spend three weeks of their summer vacation with us. Anna enjoys spending time with Dani. "We built a really great house out of wood. In the evenings we always jump up and down in the paddling pool. And we also kiss sometimes," she says enthusiastically. Spending time with Nelly and her family does us a world of good. We can recover well from the strain of the three-month journey through Turkey. Saying goodbye at the end of July is really hard for us. Nelly says with tears in her eyes: "I'm counting on you next summer! We are very touched. Not only were we guests of Georgia's dearest mother, but we also found a second home. We will be back soon. We are sure of it.

From Tbilisi to Armenia we cycle one day. Shortly after the border, our gearshift causes problems. The cable has broken off. We can only ride in the first gears. Fortunately it goes uphill. When we buy vegetables in the village of Alaverdi, a cyclist stops next to us: "Hello! I am Salah from Palestine. I've been riding my bike for a year." We quickly become friends and decide to travel together. Salah was studying art and film in Damascus when he met his now wife from Holland. After the war broke out, she went back home. And Salah followed her a little later. Today they are married and travel by bicycle. Salah talks about his life in Damascus and his childhood in Palestine. He grew up in a refugee camp. His family's tent eventually became a house. His parents still live in it today. Our luck: in Holland he works as a bicycle mechanic and had a Pinotandem like us for a long time. In the next town he repaired our shift cable in no time. What a happy coincidence!

In the Armenian village of Tumanyan we spend the night on the football field. A crowd of children curiously follows the setup of our tent. "Hello. My name is Sirarpi. Where are you from?", the mother of one of the children greets us. She guides us through the village the next day. In the center we stand in front of a monument with the faces of eight young soldiers - fallen in 2020 in the Kharabakh war. Sirarpi knew them all. Not far away, there is a museum with stickers of matchboxes from all over the world. "Look! There's Basel!" says Anna excitedly, pointing to a picture of our hometown. Sirarpi explains to us that the museum was founded by an Armenian named Rafi. He lives in the U.S. and collected matchboxes. Since then, tourists have been coming here just for that. We didn't expect something like this here in the mountains.

When we set up our tent again in the evening at the soccer field, two Russian men invite us to their place for cooking. With Salah we make Baba Ganoush for Sirarpi and her family. We meet six other young Russians. They tell us how they left their country because of the war in Ukraine. "I make web sites and had to move my business to Armenia in order to still be able to take orders from Europe," one of them tells us. "I'm afraid of having to go to the front in case of a general mobilization," says the other. And a 19-year-old young Russian woman explains to us that she could no longer stand the discussions with her propaganda-minded mother in Moscow and fled abroad.

In Armenia, the group of young Russians feels comfortable. "Here everyone speaks Russian and Russians have a good standing. In Georgia I sometimes had the feeling that it is better to speak English instead of Russian," we are told. A few days later we spend the night in a house with Russian guests. A young Russian woman tells us: "I campaigned for the release of Nawalny on social media. Then they took away my passport and put me under house arrest for 9 months. Before there was a trial, I fled to Armenia with my identity card." She shows us a passport for foreigners issued to her a few days earlier by the German Embassy in Armenia. "In Armenia I am not safe from the Russian authorities," she tells us, and that same evening she leaves for Germany with two huge suitcases containing all her belongings. There she will start a new life as a refugee. Besides clothes, she takes a huge smoothie mixer and a folding bicycle. During the conversation we realize how difficult all this is for her. She has to leave everything behind in her home country and does not know when and if she will ever be able to return.

At the mountain lake Sevan we talk a lot with Salah about the young Russians who have turned their backs on their homeland out of protest or fear. We are grateful that we were allowed to get to know them and their stories. At the lake we make a campfire in the evening and say goodbye to Salah the next day. "If you cycle home via Saudi Arabia and Egypt, I will pick you up in Jordan and show you my Palestine", Salah calls out to us and drives to Yerevan to take a plane to Bulgaria. In Sofia he meets his wife and then cycles on to Athens. We watch Salah until he disappears behind the first hill. We are sure that we will see each other again.

At no less than 2,412 meters we cross the Suleymayi Lernants Pass. We have never been that high with our tridem on our whole trip. We dance excitedly around our bike and find an old caravan seraglio on the other side of the pass. 1,300 years ago, traders stayed here on their way from Persia to the north. It is part of the Silk Road. The basalt building is very well preserved. We climb on the roof and enjoy the magnificent view. Together with three cyclists from France we spend the night in the old seraglio. It is quiet as a mouse. "Only twice did a bat squeak and once a small rat ran past my sleeping bag," Carsten tells us the next morning.

We rush down the mountain and discover a large swimming pool just before the town of Kapan. "Stop! Stop now!" shouts Anna from behind. Carsten slams on the brakes. We jump into the cool water. Anna climbs onto the 1.5 meter diving platform and dares to jump for the first time. In the afternoon a big family comes and invites us for dinner. We have barbeque. Anna plays with the children in the pool. The father tells us about the war against Azerbaijan and about Mount Ararat, which according to the history books belongs to Armenia. "Let's drink to it!" he shouts loudly and lifts his glass of homemade vodka from the Coke bottle. After that, we dance to loud Armenian pop music. Many Armenians are very sad because of the war and wish their country back to its old size. As it is getting dark, the owner of the swimming pool offers us to camp right next to the pool. We do not let him tell us twice.

The next day we get the news of Badri's death. We are very sad and stop at a church to light a candle. Our thoughts are with Nelly and her children in Tezami. We spend our last days in Armenia high up in the mountains in Areviq National Park. At 1,800 meters we find a lovingly furnished campsite and stay there for almost a week. Katharina and Carsten both get a slight summer flu and cure themselves. "I think Micky is the best here," Anna says, beaming, and plays with the only two-month-old puppy every day. A ranger rescued him from the road. A few minutes walk away are four beautiful waterfalls where you can swim. With the ranger German we observe by night vision camera four leopards on their way through the mountains from Turkey to Iran. During the day we see hundreds of butterflies at the stream. We feel really comfortable here in nature.

Today we continue our journey to Iran. We have read a lot about ancient Persia. Bicyclists have raved to us about the hospitality of the Iranians. But there were also words of warning: "Watch out! Don't take any stones with you. Don't photograph landscapes," a staff member at the German Embassy in Tehran told us. We are curious and open for what we will encounter. And we will also have a visitor: our friend Inés from the Basque Country will travel with us for three weeks in September. We are very much looking forward to that!

So much for all our adventures. You can find out how we are feeling inside in our individual reflections:

Carsten: "I love living in the here and now. Nature and the proximity to animals have gained a whole new meaning for me on this trip. Whether I will still feel comfortable after the trip in a 50 square meter apartment in the city? I don't know at the moment. And I don't need to know."

Katharina: "I am amazed every time how quickly people invite us to their homes and open their innermost being without knowing anything about us. They take their time. At home, the first thing they ask is about their work and education level. The day is often very structured. Here it is only important to be friendly and open. I wish there were less prejudice at home and that people accepted people as they are, realizing how much you can learn from each other and laugh together."

Anna: "Supermarkets are exciting. Every country has its peculiarities. In Italy there were huge shelves with so many different types of pasta, in Turkey black tea in huge packages, and now in Armenia lots of vodka and alcohol. My parents always give it a wide berth."

We send you and your loved ones warm greetings from the Caucasus and hope you are well. We would be happy to hear from you!

Katharina, Anna and Carsten

Our trip in numbers

Kilometers traveled: 11,584

Hours in the saddle: 642

Average kilometers per day: 46

Nights in tent: 129

Nights as guest: 256

Nights in pension: 36

Number of sunny days: 259

Number of cloudy days: 93

Number of rainy days: 69