Stuffed on Shashlyk

YALTA: Another day by the seaside, and another mid-afternoon buzz from sweet red wine slugged from plastic cups and poured out of Coke bottles. For the last two afternoons we've eaten our lunch atop Mt. Al-Petri, a 1400 metre stone behemoth that rises up sharply from the Black Sea. You have to take a long cab ride or a dramatic cable car soaring over pine forests to get there and both days we've opted for the cable car.

Yesterday when we got to the top, it was something akin to a plane flight as all we could see, save for a few lone trees jutting out of the clouds, was a soft, pillowy white all the way to the horizon. Down at sea level the day had been relatively cloudy but amidst the heavens the clear blue sky was only occasionally marked by clouds.

After walking around for a while, trying a local muscat or two, sizing up some slippers made of dog, a local accosted us with offers of shashlyk (basically shish kebabs for the uninitiated). He recognised we were from Australia and started talking about Kostya Tszyu and kangaroos. We followed him to his restaurant where we befriend his mates, one of whom was described as a "sexy Tartar terrorist" and took a seat at his restaurant while we waited for the meat to be cooked outside on an open barbeque. Inside we entertained ourselves with the local sommelier who walked around selling wine out of 500ml coke bottles and we watched as the meat was cut up with an axe outside. The same axe that was used for firewood. We dined, sumptusously. In fact we dined so well we went up again today to eat.

I should add that while it isn't exactly t-shirt weather at sea level it's still quite a shock to get in a cable car for fifteen minutes and emerge amidst mountains of snow.