Woke up in Bishkek yesterday at 4am, dressed and said goodbye to the hosts at Nomad's Home, who'd hosted me for a total of three weeks off and on.

Taxi to airport, watch Russian teens say goodbye with studied cool. Flight lands in Moscow, rush to make connecting flight to Baku, Azerbaijan.

Before leaving Baku customs for waiting embrace of taxi drivers, mental rundown: guidebook? No. Any idea where train station is, or how to say "train station" in Russian or Azeri? No. Ready? No? Ok go.

Taxi driver convinces me to take bus, which rumbles 12 hours to Georgian border. By this point, concerned-looking Georgian man has adopted me, and keeps on eye on me through passport control. Emerge from three separate passport checks smiling ... and then see waiting cattle pen and realize I've only cleared the Azeri exit side of the equation.

Dawn. Taxi from border to old city. Shuffle along in a daze, mapless and lost, before finding Internet cafe. Trudge across bridge, through streets to unmarked door in unmarked house, where plump smiling Irina welcomes me to her guesthouse. She asks my name but "many people, many countries ... maybe I call you just America."

Think I'll stay in Tbilisi for a bit.