We’re on the Georgian military road headed for Shatili for Khatoba festivals—Pagan rituals with some Christian overtones that involve animal sacrifices and drinking a lot of beer. It’s starting to rain and the canvas roof is full of holes. Tamasz has a wiper and I just have a stick of a wiper grating across a broken window.  It’s now raining hard, so I put on my rain jacket and hood because it’s raining through the canvas and onto my head.  Tamasz had his window unbolted and thrown in the back. Because of the rain, he bolts it back on and now the fumes are really bad… At least Guram has stopped smoking for the moment...