All of a sudden, while I’ve almost reached the top of the escalator, a thought sends a shiver down my spine. No, it’s not the fear of being stolen, as the stations look generally safe, with at least one policeman patrolling every platform. Lost as I was in observing Tbilisi’s subway’s trains, so reminiscent of Soviet times, I cannot find my card. Where have I put it? I search my pockets, filled with all sorts of things, from the phone to the passport, wallet, keys, my friend’s notes on how to get back home safe and sound, etc., but I just can’t find the card as I’m getting closer and closer to the turnstiles, patrolled by a policeman. What to do? How am I going to explain the situation? I keep searching my pockets even where I don’t have pockets and many worried thoughts cross my mind… which disappear in less than one second. Firstly, because I’ve found the card. It had got stuck to the back of my phone. I was sweating too much, I suppose. But, above all, because the turnstiles are there, but they are fake. Even if you don’t touch out, they will let you go through.
And at that point, my mind goes to Genoa, with the difference that while in my native city turnstiles are used as “ornaments” both at the entrance and at the exit of the subway, on entering the Tbilisi subway you are obliged to touch in the card, or you won’t pass. Feeling almost at home, I get out to see the sun and the beauty of Tbilisi.