Eastern Orthodox priest, Tbilisi, Georgia.

EXTRA PIOUS

Yesterday was a heck of a long trip (hence why I didn't squeeze in a photo).

I took the three hour marshrutka from Mestia to Zugdidi at 6am and from there a seven hour transit van/minivan thing to Tbilisi, the capital.

Coming down from the High Caucasus was a rather racy affair. I've seen pretty crazy driving before in Albania and Ukraine, but these Georgian old boys take it to another level.

Although the roads are mostly well paved, it's often the case that, on the tight bends of the descent, the only thing keeping the marshrutka from plummeting several thousand feet are some rather crumbly breeze blocks. Nae bo'er!! said the driver, best way to ensure our safety is just to pelt it down at 80km/h, and if we come to one of those bends just pomp the horn a couple of times, although that's just a formality.

People here in Georgia are pious. And I noticed people crossing themselves almost obsessively on the bus. One woman was reading passages from her bible between Zugdidi and Tbilisi, and she would pause every few minutes to cross herself several times, before going back to reading.

Others would cross themselves as we passed churches or roadside memorials. Bored, and tired, I started to play a small game whereby each time someone crossed themselves I'd have to spot the reason why. It was then that it slowly came to my attention that many of the passengers did it when the old driver made one of his many questionable decisions.

To see whether it was clear to overtake he simply pulled out into the adjacent lane- cross yourself. If there was a car then, tough, they'd just have to go half on the verge- cross yourself. If there wasn't a car (or if he couldn't see round the bend) then, great, we'd start the 60 second overtaking manoeuvre, slowly edging past the huge military lorry- cross yourself.

So I guess the obsessive crossing was almost a precautionary last rites ritual. And I guess the portrait of the Virgin Mary was to keep us safe during this terrible driving (not that she ever drove a car). But then what about good, old infidelic me? I, equally, would rather not pop it in the back of a seatbelt-less transit van thing in the middle of nowhere. My life was the hands of this visually impaired, hunched up chap, too.

So I did what anybody in my situation would do, put a bottle of water between my right knee and the seat in front and a half eaten bag of crisps between the other.

Then at least if worst comes to worst, I'd probably be fine.