The bustling border crossing at Hopa was nothing like the sleepy, rural, countryside post I had crossed to enter Georgia two days earlier. Tractor trailers, vacationing Russians, and a much more official (border-ish) mood filled the air, and made it rather unpleasant. To the left, handsome tall green Turkish mountains rose up to towering heights. To the right, the Black Sea stretched out coldly under an ominous, cloudy, late evening sky. We were routed between barbed wire and chain-link fencing, as the crossing is under heavy construction. Presumably, this means trade between Turkey and the Caucasus countries - 2 outta 3, that is - is enjoying healthy growth, and that the border is being expanded to accommodate the resulting traffic. It was a push-your-way-to-the-makeshift-kiosk type of queue for immigration. With a few questions in Turkish and
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