Looking down on Tbilisi from near the Narikala Citadel.
Certain things catch my eye, and certain things strike my fancy. I have no explanation as to why. For example, I think the tuxedo t-shirt is one of the premier inventions of all time, closely followed by the American Flag male speedo. Another example is the way I cannot get past the song “Summer Girls” by LFO. I don’t mean to make light of Georgia, or the Caucasus, but it falls into this group. At least it is a bit more socially respectable to be fascinated by an amalgamation of peoples, cultures, languages, religions, everything that comes together where Europe and Asia clash sending mountains soaring into the sky. It is strange though, that while I have always known where Armenia is, and Armenians, the country of their origin has never took hold of me. My interest in Georgia started when I first applied to Peace Corps. Georgia (and if you’re still unaware I’m writing about the Republic of Georgia, not the country in the American South that General Sherman gloriously marched through), is encompassed by the same Peace Corps region that Turkmenistan is a part of. I at this time did not know that the three countries of the Caucasus were their own Peace Corps sub-group, so I entertained the idea that perhaps I would be put into this intriguing locale. I think the first thing I saw was a picture of a church on a mountain, but it could have been a castle. To be honest, it could have even been a picture of the church I went to see, but I digress.
I traditionally like to put unattainable ideas in my head, and use them as pipe dreams. Most recent examples of this would probably be my desire after college to go to Australia or Ireland and bum around playing rugby for a few years or a few months (though this idea was really only seriously considered when I was about 18). I thought Georgia would be like this. I didn’t know anybody who had been to Georgia, nor did I know anybody with any desire to go. I thought I’d probably have to take a seat and be an armchair traveler reading travelogues, and histories of this area. But, when I got to talking with some fellow Peace Corps friends, I found there was at least one person interested in going, and even two people interested in going. We started making tentative plans. Again those style plans that generally are not followed up on. This was further complicated by the fact that the person most interested in going to this area with me bailed on us, leaving sunny Crimea for sunny San Diego. But, it was still something I mentioned every now and then among various crowds. Around April or May, when I had mentioned this, a friend said “I’d definitely go,” or at least something similar, I didn’t record the conversation.
Still these plans were in the probably not going to happen category. Until I received a call or text that said, “I just saw tickets from Kyiv to Tbilisi for $300 round trip.” This idea started to materialize. We started going over when we were free, and it was determined the second week of August would work. So, we had a potential date. But, I’ve had potential dates for a lot of things: a trip to Berlin during my sophomore year of college, a trip to San Diego during winter of 2008-09, a trip to watch Providence College play in the NCAA tournament (don’t laugh, a boy can dream) but frequently things just haven’t worked out, not always Tim Welsh’s fault. Next time I was in Kyiv, though, to watch the USA – England soccer game at an ex-pat pub, I called my friend said “should we get the tickets?” and we got the tickets. As they say, there are always a million reasons not to do something, you just need to find the reason to do it, so we said, “when will we ever go to Georgia in the future?” and followed through.
It was the beginning of June when we finally made this official, and ticketed our travel. In the meantime I read a few books on the Caucasus, some about the history, some of travel through, and some were articles in magazines like The Economist, Foreign Affairs, and even some papers from the Brookings Institution. Steinbeck, and Paul Theroux also have written about trips through the area; Steinbeck in A Russian Journal, and Theroux in Ghost Train to the Eastern Star. These readings made me even more interested in the country, though I could hardly say I had an accurate picture of the countries of the Caucasus, then again anyone who says that they do may be lying to you.
August 9th was go time. We had an evening flight out of Kyiv and arrived around 11 Tbilisi time at night. The plane and airport were where we had our first taste of Georgian hospitality, and friendliness. On the flight, we were sitting next to a pretty large guy. He seemed slightly jumpy at first, but nice enough. But, during the flight we got to talking. Luckily I was accompanied by my official Russian translator, so she was able to handle the interpretation. With a hand lovingly placed on my thigh the gentleman told us of his family in Tbilisi – he works in Kyiv – and about Georgia, in general. He also wanted me to drink cognac with him, lots and lots of cognac, but I decided I would prefer not to drink cognac, so I tried to get out of it, by ordering wine. This was able to bide me some time, but I was ultimately unsuccessful. Every time my glass was empty my neighbor rang for the stewardess to refill my glass until ultimately there was no more wine left on the plane. Since we had started, we were going to finish the bottle (just to be clear, it was a small little flask bottle, so there was not too much) which was about three quarters of the way gone by this point. I finished the flight in a warm bubble, and had to help my new friend tie his tie because he had done more of a job on the cognac than I had. I later found out that he was afraid of flying, it was from that fear that the bottle was finished; I couldn’t let a new friend drink alone. Upon arriving in Tbilisi we met our new friend’s brother and son, he had told us he would give us a ride to our hostel. It was determined that we would take a taxi to the hostel, which was fine. Unbeknownst to us however, his brother had paid for the taxi before we got in; our first taste of the famed Georgian hospitality.
Our first two nights in Tbilisi were spent at the Tbilisi Hostel, the self-proclaimed “party hostel”. They lived up to their name the first night, breaking out the chacha Georgia’s liquor of choice, similar to grappa. To be honest, I hope I never taste chacha again. We got a bit of an unrealistic picture of the tourist crowd in Georgia from this hostel. The people staying were from Poland, South Africa, Australia, and some others from the states. It wasn’t until later that we, or at least, I found out that most of the tourists in Georgia come from Israel. Our first day in Tbilisi we were lucky. It was damn hot, but it was not humid, and the heat was not oppressive. We spent the day walking the city. From coffee on the beautiful Rustaveli Avenue, to the ancient Narikala Citadel, an ancient wall that protected the city a thousand years ago, we saw a large portion of the city which was remarkably walkable. After a bit of walking we made our way to bus station in order to buy tickets for a journey we would be undertaking on our second day up into the mountains. The buses turned out to be marshrutkas, and the marshrutkas, and bus station would make Ukraine proud. After learning that tickets are not sold for the trips to the mountains, we were told to come back the next day. Before heading back into the city we both chose to purchase some produce from the bazaar between the metro stop, and the bus station. The produce was being sold by the kilogram at the bar, with no prices for single items. After my friend was given a peach, at the stand she went to, I was energized to ask for a tomato, hoping maybe it too would be free, it was not to be, however, and I had to pay 20 tetri (about 10 cents) for my tomato. But, that’s just a random aside. Back downtown we made our way to a Thai restaurant for dinner. We both had pad thai, and I was pleasantly surprised that the “Thai” food, tasted just like the pad thai from 7 Moons back home, it was terrific. We did, however, leave the rest of Tbilisi for our return.
Luckily I had an adventurous companion, and she had the idea that we spend two days in the mountains. So our second day we made our way up to Kazbegi a town in the High Caucasus Range, and the final outpost before the dreaded Russian Federation. The ride up to Kazbegi was quite scenic. Right outside of the city there were small mountains that looked similar to the mountains of Crimea. We also drove up along rivers for almost the entirety of the ride. About an hour and a half into the ride we ran into the high mountains, the going got much slower as we were in low gear navigating the switchbacks, and negotiation herds of cattle, goats, and sheep and probably any other livestock you could think of congregating in the middle of the road. We arrived in Kazbegi in the late afternoon. We had just enough time to find our hostel, drop off our things, and then take a little walk before a glorious feast for dinner. The feast consisted of stuffed peppers, soup, fantastic bread, salad and a dish that mixed meat, tomatoes, potatoes, eggplants and a I’m sure there was more.
But, I will get to Kazbegi itself. Kazbegi was the town we arrived in, but we stayed in the village of Gergeti, which was a 7 or 8 minute walk from Kazbegi. The town is really unassuming when you arrive, until you look up and see Mount Kazbek, and its snowcap challenging you. The other thing you see is the ancient Church of the Holy Trinity which sits on a mountain above the town, but is not nearly as high as Kazbek. I found this church and its position awe-inspiring. It was too late our first night to do much here, so we hung in, reading, and getting acquainted with some of the other residents. The large majority of the residents were Israeli. Some sat and ate with us, but others were of a more orthodox nature, and had to bring their own cookware, and prepare all the food themselves to ensure it would be kosher. It seems like a difficult way to travel, and I don’t envy them.
We got up relatively early the next morning, which was Thursday morning, and prepared for a hike into the mountains. These preparations meant nothing more than packing a big bottle of water in my bag, as well as a light jacket, just in case. I wore pants, also, because the temperature in the mountains must have been 20 degrees cooler than the temperature in Tbilisi. Our hostess provided us with a hearty breakfast before our journey, eggs and bread, and coffee, but not good coffee – it was Nescafe instant coffee, and God, do I hate instant coffee, though it did the job. We were also allowed to make some sandwiches before we left – true to Ukrainian form we made open-faced sandwiches, which if you don’t know means sandwiches with only one piece of bread. The hike was not very strenuous, but we tacitly decided to take it at a snail’s pace. Our first stop was the Church of the Holy Trinity. Once here we took a good fifteen minutes to sit, rest and, for me, I was able to refill my water bottle. The church gave us a good overlook of the town, but really, for me the church itself was phenomenal, and the thing that attracted most of my attention – scaffolding and all.
After our brief respite we made our way further up the mountains. We had not illusions of climbing Mount Kazbek (that takes 4 days, motivation, and probably being in shape), but we wanted to see Mount Kazbek, and the glacier next to it. We hiked about an hour longer, before stopping in the middle of an alpine meadow and having our lunch. The lunch caused one of us to nap, and one of us to hike up to some random structure which looks like it was a basin of some sort, but really I have no idea what it was, even after a close examination. I went back down as a group of climbers descended (get it?) upon the hill we had stopped at. They were a group of Germans that had spent the last four days climbing Kazbek, and made for enjoyable company. They warned us, however, never to talk politics with Georgians – soon after their Georgian guide started discussing the literary merits of Mein Kampf, which solidified the wisdom of their suggestion. After brief conversation they assured us that the ridge where we could view Kazbek and the glacier was only another hours, so we decided to get on with it. The blame is on us, but we didn’t take into consideration that we were talking to Germans, and our efficiency just did not compare to theirs. After the foretold hour we were halfway up a path, so we decided to continue up. We didn’t expect that this peak was just a false ridge that led us nowhere other than to the next path up to a new ridge. We met another German here; she told us we would need another half hour to get to the ridge. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. We were fooled twice. It ultimately took us another hour or so to get up to the top of this ridge. I will say, I thought it was worth the time, and had we been in any semblance of shape, we probably could have done this substantially faster. It was, ultimately a phenomenal vista, and I’m glad we saw it. There was only one slight disappointment: as soon as we arrived at the ridge a cloud covered the summit of Kazbek, luckily it was so tall that we had been able to see it for most of the time. The other cool thing about the hike was seeing more and more mountains come into view as our altitude increased. As we started seeing a larger panorama of the Caucasus we were also treated to more snowcapped mountains. True to my New England roots, the only snowy mountains I have seen are the ones we ski on. I’ve never seen the Rockies, the Alps, or any other magnificent mountains – sorry, New Hampshire, but the White Mountains just don’t do it for me. The mountains that were on the other side of Kazbegi were not as tall as Kazbek, but still pretty tall, and while we were on our hike up there was a huge cracking sound, similar to close thunder. When we looked over there was a huge dust cloud slowly working its way down the mountain slope, and rocks had fallen from the top, and began rolling down. The Germans told us that there were many rockslides in that area, and climbing there is not recommended. We took a bit of a break on the ridge, took some pictures, and then decided we should make our way back down. We were ready for a hearty dinner, and I was ready to fall asleep afterwards.
Our walk down was much easier than the ascent. It was, however, a bit more perilous than I expected. I found the best way to get down these paths was to run down them until we reached relatively flat ground. While walking I seemed to slip and stumble a bit more than I did while I was running. Perhaps part of the reason for running was hunger. Dinner may be the only thing I am punctual for, I think it’s because I have priorities. It was surprising how much faster walking down was. My brother would have been in his glory. On our way down to where the church is we were in the middle of a heard of cattle. These cattle made me feel a bit inadequate because they were navigating the rocky slopes with such ease. One of the hazards of our journey down was trying to avoid the cow pies; they had peppered the trail with reckless abandon.
Heading back into civilization we took a couple of unknown turns on our way to the homestay. These turns put us right into the middle of mountain neighborhoods seemingly unaffected by, and uninterested in tourists. There were children playing, mangy dogs, delicious smells emanating from windows, chickens strutting around, some pigs, we even saw a horse. We went down an alley to a new neighborhood and were quickly directed back to the tourist track, and it was necessarily done in the friendliest of manners. I cannot say I blame them, though, because there was really no reason for us to be there other than curiosity, and an inability to stay on the right path. Luckily, though we got back to our path and made it back in time for our dinner. It was hearty and delicious. After dinner there was not much to do, so it was early to bed.
Upon waking this next morning we filed into a marshrutka and got ready for a crowded three hours back to Tbilisi. We were stopped a number of times on the way back. We had to make way for mountain cattle. A number of sheep decided to hang out in front of the van for awhile, as well. Ultimately, we did return successfully. It was actually significantly faster going on the return. I guess going down mountains is easier than climbing them, even for automobiles, who knew?
At this point I will take a brief intermission. I didn’t expect this to be so long, so my apologies, and thank you if you are still reading.
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