Middle Earth.
It’s a name we give to this curious collection of countries. The ones that swoop around the Black Sea. With the exception of Iran, of course, which stands off on its own. But Romania, Bulgaria, Georgia, Armenia, Moldova, the Ukraine, Moldova…. that clutch of ex-Soviet satellite states.
Middle Earth. Nah, we didn’t expect to find hobbits here. But, we didn’t expect to find goblins either. And, we did! At the Goblin Rally.
The biggest motorbike rally around. For a 17th consecutive year. It lands in our laps in Odessa. Goblins rev, pop, spin and squeal in, from the faraway corners of Middle Earth. Bikers from the Ukraine, Moldova, Armenia, Georgia, Bulgaria and Romania. And Belarus! And Latvia! And Russia proper! And Trans-Dniester, more proper than Russia proper … but more about that renegade republic later.
They suck us in, like bees to honey. Harry sees bikes he’s never seen before. I hear of places I’ve never heard of before. Some goblins are pro-Russia, others are pro-EU. Few speak English. Some wives do!
Our home, South Africa, blows their minds. A quick sum, a lot of license, and we claim; “We have ridden 69,000 kilometres to get here!”
!69 ’f-cking’ thousand kilometres!
It spreads like wild fire. Suddenly everybody speaks English!
!69 ’f-cking’ thousand kilometres!
Paper cup! Vodka! Salute!
!69 ’f-cking’ thousand kilometres!
Paper cup! Vodka! Salute!
!69 ’f-cking’ thousand kilometres!
Paper cup! Vodka! Salute!
Harry & I need to hide.
We find a delicious Georgian dish; Khachapuri. A crusty molten bread. Stringy with cheeses and runny with egg. Straight out of the oven.
We return, to the Goblins, with heartburn.
And the town is red. It’s mischief time.
A mass ride. The perfect venue for a wedding. Doughnuts and slow races. Prizes for everything, and for nothing. Kick-boxing. Champions! A child, a woman, a man, parade around the ring. Hard rock. Fireworks! Trike bikes scream onto the stage. A shopping trolley swings in tow. Heavy Metal. Pole dancing. Collapse.
Mid-morning and tents still quake with snoring.
We proudly last for 2 nights and a day.
And then, it’s time to go home. The Goblins head back to their corners of Middle Earth. And we head back to South Africa.
Oh my, Middle Earth. Scary histories. Messy politics. Plain pleasures.
Here, chimneys still smoke. And shepherds herd their flocks along the roadside. Here cities are a hodgepodge of old and new. And you open a stall without a permit. Here you sit in a public square without paying for an expensive cappuccino. And a family spends a whole day in a sunny park. Here a young couple runs in ordinary tennis shoes. And this proverb rules; ‘Smiling for no reason, is a sign of stupidity”. So, here, that rare smile …. Is the most beautiful thing in the world.
But more than anything, here, most people are almost middle class. Those few oligarchs aside. Communism, it seems, leaves an easier legacy than colonialism and apartheid. An up-and-coming middle class. Something we desperately wish for home, South Africa, too.
Thank you, Goblins. We have had the time of our lives in Middle Earth!

















































It’s a long way home; Moldova, Romania, Hungary, Slovakia, Czechia, Germany and then a plane back to South Africa.
But first, a last snippet of Middle Earth. Trans-Dniester!
We follow fellow Goblins on bikes with odd number plates to a crazy place in the world. A narrow strip of land between the Ukraine and Moldova, just across the Dniester River. It’s a separatist region that breaks away from Moldova after a fierce war in 1992. Not recognised by any country in the world. Except by the 3 other un-recognised states of Abkhazia, Artsakh and South Ossetia! It declares it is not Moldovan! It declares it’s love for Mother Russia! But Russia doesn’t say yes and doesn’t say no.
More Russian, than Russia. A leap back in time; to Soviet times.
Trans-Dniester, half a million people on 4000 sq.km. It has its own government, parliament, constitution, flag and anthem. And its own military, police, postal system, currency and vehicle registrations. And its own very thorny border post.
























Trans-Dniester. So obscure! Now you see it. Now you don’t. Did it slip into the Black Sea? Or disappear into a Black Hole of History?
No, it’s right here in Middle Earth. I promise, Harry has those plastic coins in his pocket!
HI Linda and Harold, Great read and very interesting, somethings you’ll never forget thanks for all the posts and welcome home.
Regards Ron
Such a treat to smell the noise and taste the zeste and atmosphere of the “goings on”. Middle Earth motorcycle rally.
I can’t scrub the grin off my face after reading.
Wimsussie
Your penmanship is truly extraordinary!! What a fabulous, entertaining read!
Not stuck in middle earth after all. Loved the stories and the faces and places. Must have almost drowned in vodka. A lovely rounding off like a fairy story
we realise you didn’t get left behind in middle earth but what an expose to finish off with!!
Motor bikes in abundane of types, true goblins and a hobbit up to his tricks once again and what a lot of vodka. Thanks for bringing it all to life again with your true style of faces and places!!!
I am making a bread like that tomorrow for sure. Congratulations for having done the trip. What a lot of energy and love you have. P&P
Welcome back Harry and Linda.
What a fitting finale (at the rally) to share your story with like minded individuals.
Hi Linda and Harold, The khachapuri with an egg look yummy. The bike rally looks interesting with all that vodka drinking. I wonder what there heavy metal music sounds like. Keep well All the best Colin and Debbie from Durban