Georgia #1: Poker Face and Hamid (09/01/2026)

Police in front of me installed their camera, asking me to look at the device, and then started speaking.

“With several considerations, we decided to decline your visa entry to Georgia.  You may take a leave from this country.” He said it with a flat and plain tone.

In the middle of the immigration office, with 5-10 people behind me, queuing to get access, I stood there, shocked. What the hell?

“You can follow my friend, here, take all of your bags, and leave this country immediately.” He continued, with his hand gesturing like I was a bug.

And that is how I finished my story in Georgia, even before I started it.

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Today’s agenda was moving to another city, actually, a country. After spending the last hours with Mas Fauzi, Ananta, Atla, and Azka in their apartment, I put my step on a minibus heading to Otobus Terminal.

It was at 8 pm, the weather was so bad with the rain and severe winds blowing their touch before I left Trabzon. My jacket and bags started to get wet, and I did not know what would be worse than this.

But now you know, right?

The bus moved at 9.15 pm, and everything was fine. The lady in the bus was so helpful, and thankfully, she could speak English, although only some basic conversation, but it was all I needed.

Batumi is the gateway for everyone who travels to Türkiye – Georgia. At 1 am, we arrived there, a massive steel building, with black night and heavy rain as its background. We needed to leave our bus, bring our stuff, and wait in the immigration office, which we could find after 20 minutes walking from channel to channel.

At the end of the process (or my process XD), I faced a policewoman officer sitting in a box office with her scanning device and monitor, who checked my passport and my Saudi residence permit.

“Passport from Indonesia? Yeah, you need to apply for a visa to enter. The residence permit from Turkiye, or Ikamet, also cannot enter Georgia without a visa.” She explained to me.

“But because you have a residence permit from Saudi Arabia, you can enter without a visa.” She added while working on her paper.

A police officer ordered me to wait since they needed to take additional steps to process my entry. I did not mind at all. Deden, a friend of mine who has done it before, told me the only they needed was my residence permit in English translation, and I had given that to him.

Not very long, around 5 minutes, two policemen appeared. They started to ask me many questions. One with quite good English asked me while maintaining his poker face.

Where are you from? What is your job? Why are you coming here? How much money do you have? Where is your hotel to stay here? Do you have insurance? Why do you? What is that? How many days? When do you? Where are you? And many more.

English poker face kept asking, sometimes not giving me time to answer. I opened all the documents that they wanted to check, and struggled with this face-to-face interview.

It took around 15 – 20 minutes before they left.

I was a little bit more nervous.

A nice lady from the bus gave me a warm smile. She and several passengers from my bus were now in the line, waiting for their check. I was just standing there, holding my tote bag while looking at my other stuff. And then, the poker face and his friend came to the box. I walked closer, but then they left. Nothing particularly important until the policewoman spoke to the nice lady, while throwing a glance at me. They spoke Turkish.

And suddenly the lady approached me, and asked,

“Do you have any bags on the bus?”

I shake my head, sighing that all the bags were with me.

“Okay, we will be going now. Goodbye.” She spoke calmly.

She started to keep her bag. Some passengers also put their bags on their backs.

I was shocked.

“Wait, you want to leave now? I am going to Tbilisi as well. With you guys.” I told her.

She stopped and looked confused.

“But the police tell me you will stay in here.” She replied and pointed her face at the box policewoman. I looked at the box. At the same time, I walked there. Before I reached that spot, our favorite two policemen came up out of nowhere. The poker face pads my shoulder, ordering me to follow him into a corner.

In front of his chest, there was a device, like a camera trap, installed on his body.

And then, the worst scenario actually happened.

“With several considerations, we decided to decline your visa entry to Georgia.  You may take a leave from this country.” The poker policeman said it with a flat and plain tone.

“You can leave this country and go back to Türkiye immediately.” He waved his hand, like this was a comedy show, and I was an object of a prank.

I was stunned for seconds. But I raised my voice.

“Wait, wait. Is it real? Why can’t I enter?  I answered all your questions.” I argued.

“You can’t show us your insurance, and you only have a few hundred liras. This comes to …” He explained

But I could not wait for his speech.

“I could not show it because you kept asking the questions. I have it now in my email, and I can show it to you.” My voice sounded desperate.

I opened my email and started to search for my Allianz card.

“I don’t need it now. We gave you 15 minutes to provide it, but you …”

“What? 15 minutes? You gave me 5 seconds and then moved to other questions. How can you give me 15 minutes?” I once again answered his statement. Half shout.

“And I told you that I have around 7.000 SAR. It is around 1.800 USD. It should be enough for just three days’ vacation here!” Another voice came from my mouth.

He did not look happy with that. The situation was becoming more tense. Some people started to be curious about what happened at the corner. I did not care. It was 1.30 pm, heavy rain, and I did not know where the hell I was.

There is no way I would be kicked from this place.

But then I got kicked out.

In the middle of the rain, I pull my wet bag, walking away from Georgia’s gate. How could it be possible? I kept asking myself.

The poker face did a dirty move. With no reasonable arguments, he and his boyfriend forced me to put my bag, gave me a paper explaining their refusal, and started shouting,

“Go, go, Türkiye, go!” With their hands like repelling a fly. His friend pointed at a door heading outside. The rain was still there. I walked. My heart was cracked. My blood boiled. But my shoulders dropped. My head was low.

I was a damn loser.

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For an hour, 5 minutes, and 15 seconds, I kept cursing. I blamed my Allianz card, I hated my wallet, but most of them were for those policemen. I thought of all the bad terms I have had in my mind, and I threw those.

I hated the country, I hated the gate, I hated the dog sleeping on the side of the road. I felt my energy pumped to my brain. My first was clenched. My feet were stomping.

And then I saw myself. I realized the real situation I had.

At 2 am, on the border of two countries, the rain did not stop, my bags were getting heavier, and then suddenly, the nightmare came when my phone stopped working. The display just showed the battery icon, with no response to anything I did to him. I stroked, I swapped, and then I hit, but he resiliently survived.

He brutally cooperated with the police to provide the worst scenario tonight. He betrayed me, his very close friend, in my dire situation. We had been together for almost two years, and now he has left me desperately.

I looked at him. Sadly.

Now everything was getting more difficult. With no phone, I could not read my position; it was almost impossible to get to a hotel manually, with this weather, and I could not communicate without my translation. And even with my phone on, it would not be easy to meet people at this time.

My anger turned into anxiety, and second-by-second became a fear.

I stood behind the front door, looking outside. Few people, 3 - 4, were gathered now because of the rain. I pulled my body inside, tried to hide from the world. I kept telling myself;

"This is nothing. You faced worse before, you remember? Dude, you almost got frozen in Pengalengan. You had nothing there. But here, you have money, you have warm clothes, you wear boots. You can get it fine, okay?"

My mind struggled to argue with my dire situation.

While looking at my wet boot, I heard there was an arguing session happening in front of me. Three guys were discussing while pointing at a phone and a pack of money. The fourth guy just stood silent, watching their discussion. Then one of the guys approached, started speaking in fast Turkish to me. I walked back a bit.

“Sorry, but I don’t speak Turkish,” I said to him.

He stopped speaking and gave a glance at my power bank.

“Ooh, you want this. Here.” I handed my power bank. My phone was already erroring. No matter how many hours I charge it, the battery will not be filled.

“Thank you, thank you, brother.” He spoke. Another guy even hugged me. It must be a very important business they had.

I felt a spark warming my heart. Although I knew it would not change my condition. Or, it could?

“Hi, do you need any help? I can speak English.” Another voice came.

The fourth silent guy.

That’s how I met Hamid.

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Hamid in Arabic means praiseworthy. But for me, he was a door, a gate to all my cloud problems. He can speak four languages: English, Turkish, Georgian, and Romanian, since he worked as a tour guide. We did not find any obstacles to communication. He was four years older than me, and knew many spots I missed when I was in Istanbul. Because of his job, he had several connections to find me a hotel to sleep in the nearest town. He also has a car and could drive me at a professional price.

I don’t care about the price. Just get me out of this place, man.

He told me that he was curious about me while standing there. However, he was not sure to take the first step since there were many people around. And then, when he knew that I could speak English, and I was not a part of the group, he was sure that this guy needed help.

I laughed since I also thought he was a part of the dudes there.

After taking back my power bank, I hugged all the groups (those guys were so grateful for my power bank), talking a bit about Indonesia, and we drove. The nearest town he mentioned turned out not to be very nearby. It took 30 – 45 minutes to reach that, a small city named Hopa.

“It is much better for you to stay there, because you can access all transportation to any cities that you want to go to next.” He told me after listening to my situation.

“I guess going to Ankara or Konya is much better than waiting for a visa to Batumi. Türkiye still has many cities and spots for you.” He added while holding the stir.

“Brother, there is no way I will wait for a visa there. The trip ended at the point I left the immigration building.” I reply furiously.

He laughed.

We arrived at a plaza. Several chairs and tables were placed there. The sound of the wave felt so close. The fishy smell with the freezing wind from Black Sea slapped my face.

Not far, he stopped the car.

“The hotel is kind of pricey. But the location is great. This place is in the city center, so you won’t have any difficulty getting food. You can walk to the left for 10 – 15 minutes, and you will find the bus station on your left. ” He explained while we were climbing some stairs.

That was very important information.

"At the side of the hotel, there are many ATMs to pull cash." He added.

I nodded.

At that point, I would nod to anything that sounded like stability.

We stood in front of a room. The building was old but firm, like it had seen enough people come and go without asking too many questions. Warm light leaked from the lobby windows. That light alone already felt like mercy.

I turned to Hamid.

“Brother, thank you,” I said. My voice was tired, but real.

He smiled, lightly tapped my shoulder, and said,

“No problem. This is life on the road. Sometimes it closes one gate so you learn where the others are.”

Then he left.

Just like that.