…how much I’m looking forward to being back in Georgia.
My flight leaves from JFK on Saturday and arrives in Istanbul at about 6 am on Sunday. The flight to Tbilisi doesn’t leave for another seven hours, so I plan to take the tram downtown and see some of the sights. I’ll arrive in Tbilisi late that afternoon, spend the night at a hostel…
…and then take off the next morning for Kars, Turkey. I plan to meet up with a friend there and go tour the ruins of Ani, ancient capital of Armenia. I have no idea yet how I’m going to get there, but there should be some buses in Tbilisi or Akhaltsikhe, and from Kars you can charter a taxi.
So after all that, I’ll head out to Baghdati to meet my new host family! For the fall semester, I’ve been assigned to the school in the village of Rokhi:
It’s about an hour south of Kutaisi, right up against the Lesser Caucasus mountains, and it looks like an awesome place! A couple of other TLGers have been there before me, and they tell me it’s really great. It’s definitely going to be a change of pace, going from city to village, but it’s one I’m looking forward to. There are only 300 students in the school (grades 1-12), so maybe I’ll learn all my students’ names this time.
The family I’ve been assigned to sounds a bit older, with a thirty year old son who works at the school. It sounds a bit rustic, with Turkish toilets and no internet at home, but I’m looking forward to that, especially the no internet part. Don’t worry, I plan to get out and blog regularly–I’m sure there are local internet cafes, plus Kutaisi isn’t that far and I know where to get internet there.
Getting out to church is going to be a bit tricky: I’ll probably go into Kutaisi on Saturday, take the noon train into Tbilisi (5 GEL) and spend the night at a hostel (15 GEL), or take the sleeper train (10 GEL) and show up in the morning. Getting back shouldn’t be too difficult: the Baghdati marshrutka leaves from Didube at 16:00 (or so I hear), and from there it’s only about 6 or 7 kilometers.
I have no idea how long I’ll be in Georgia this time: my contract runs until the end of December but I may extend again, depending on what other options open up. I’ve really fallen in love with Georgia since coming there, and may just choose to stay on another year. The Caucasus is a really amazing place, full of hidden treasures and remote places.
Which reminds me: I’m bringing a tent and sleeping bag this time, to do some backpacking in Borjomi and Tusheti. Packing them was tough: the airline restriction is 20 kg total of weight (44.1 lbs), and after a whole lot of work, I finally got it down to 42.5 lbs. The disassembled backpack frame is going to have to go as a separate piece of luggage, since it was too big to fit in any bag, but it shouldn’t be too hard to reassemble it out in Georgia.
That’s about it. I’ll leave you with this awesome Georgian song I found on youtube. The dance troop is Erisioni, and they put on an amazing show that’s kind of like Riverdance, except for Georgia. Let me tell you: when it comes to dance (folk or ballroom), I don’t think anyone in the world is as amazing as the Georgians.
So I got back to the States last night, after about forty six hours of travel (and only four or five hours of sleep). It’s good to be back, but I’m already missing Georgia and thinking about all the things I’ll do once I get back.
The weirdest thing about being back home so far is how non-stressful traveling is. I got to JFK, turned on my American cell phone and found out that the sim card is no longer recognized. My train ticket needed to be rescheduled, I didn’t know who was picking me up back home or when, didn’t know the New York subway system all that well…and yet instead of freaking out, I just shrugged and figured I’d solve all that later. Sure enough, Penn Station had wifi, so I instant messaged my brother in law and had him call my mom and work it out.
The lack of beggars in New York City was kind of strange. There was one kid on the Subway who announced (after apologizing for taking people’s time) that he was trying to make money by selling M&Ms, so I helped him out and bought one. In Tbilisi, some ten year old gypsy kid would fall on her knees and give a huge sob story, then walk through the car with her tin can (and would get more money from it than this kid did in New York).
So that was the first thing I ate when I got here. The second thing was a Jamba Juice. Next was a slice of American pizza–so much better than the stuff in Georgia–and then a bottle of root beer. Man, the soda over here is so disgustingly sweet! I was wide awake until the sugar hit my system, and then it was like taking a sledgehammer to the face.
I’m doing pretty well now, even though I woke up at about 3:30 and didn’t really go back to sleep. There’s not much happening this week, so I should be able to get over the jetlag fairly easily.
As far as Star Wanderers goes, I finished everything but the last scene and the epilogue, so I’ll wrap those up today and get ready to publish Part I. The last few chapters aren’t as awesome as I’d like them to be, but I should be able to work those out in subsequent drafts.
In other news, I recently did an interview on Scifinerdsare.us. It’s more geared towards writers than readers, but worth checking out. There seems to be a lot of polarization these days between writers who self publish and writers who follow the more traditional path, which is unfortunate. That said, indie publishing is definitely the best thing career-wise that’s happened to me.
Finally, I just watched a fascinating lecture by Douglas Rushkoff on the Occupy movement and a new cultural phase that he terms “presentism.” The most interesting thing for me is what he has to say about the way our democracy is evolving–basically, it’s becoming a little more like The Colony from Bringing Stella Home. So many story ideas to play with…
So I just got back from Racha this afternoon. It was a lot of fun! Saw Ambrolauri, Oni, and Shovi, only 20 km from the Russian border near Ossetia. Don’t worry, though, we were safe the whole time–though the home we stayed at had a wolf pelt hanging in the dining room!
This video should give you a pretty good idea what Racha is like. It’s part of a new ad campaign, and it does a good job capturing the feel of rural life in the region, as well as the blend of modern and traditional that you find throughout Georgia. The music is a combination of two famous Rachuli songs.
I went with a fellow TLG teacher from Slovakia named Tomas, and together we made a really good travel team. We met last week on the TLG excursion to Kakheti and hit it off right away, probably because I’m a quarter Czech. He speaks a bit of Russian, and I speak a bit of Georgian, so between the two of us we were able to manage quite well.
A rickety old bus crawling up the treacherous road from Kutaisi to Ambrolauri.The Rioni river near the Racha-Imereti border.
We took the Kutaisi-Ambrolauri bus up along the Rioni river. The road hasn’t been repaved since Soviet times, so it was quite treacherous, especially in places where the cliff had partially eroded. Spectacular views, though, especially once we crossed the border into Racha.
At Ambrolauri, we got out and hitched a ride to Oni. The local police actually flagged down a passing tour bus full of Israelis and had them take us. It was awkward at first, until we made friends with the guide–a veteran hitchhiker who has been everywhere from New Zealand to Mongolia to Turkey. When traveling to a country with a foreign language, the five phrases she always tries to learn are:
Please.
Thank you.
Hello.
I want.
I need.
Pretty sound advice. The numbers should come pretty soon after that, along with “how much” and “what price.” “No” is definitely important too.
Oni, a beautiful Georgian town nestled inside the Caucasus Mountains.
At Oni, we spent a couple of hours shopping around the local homestays before settling on Family Hostel, a bed-and-breakfast type place with some really nice accommodations. It was a little pricier than we were hoping, but was definitely worth it. The food was great, and the dad showed us a bunch of interesting sites the next day.
The Rioni headwaters, up near Shovi. Russian North Ossetia lies on the other side of that mountain.One of many mineral water springs in Racha.
We headed up to Shovi with another tourist from the hotel: an 80 year old Turkish man named Adnan. He’s a big time hiker/trekker, and showed us a bunch of photos from his hike up Mount Ararat. He also made us Turkish coffee when we stopped for lunch up in the forest.
Shovi is an awesome rustic resort way up near the Russian border. It’s on the other side of Mount Shota, which is about as high and as steep as Mount Timpanogos in Utah. Maybe I’ll come back and hike it sometime. Anyways, Shovi was pretty cool–definitely worth coming back for a camping trip, or perhaps for a couple of nights in the cabins.
The most interesting thing, though, was how many springs were in the region. Seriously, we stopped almost half a dozen times at places just like the one pictured above, with so much water bubbling up that it almost seems like someone forgot to turn off the faucet. It’s all natural, though, and comes out carbonated and infused with all sorts of minerals. Tastes just like the sparkling mineral water from Borjomi or Nabeghlavi–the locals come up quite frequently to refill their jugs and bottles with the stuff. You can drink it straight from the spring, without any need for purification.
Back at Oni, we had a fun time hanging out with the family and seeing the dad’s furniture-making shop. They’re good people, and we were really fortunate to find them. Showed them some photos of my family, and by the end, I think the mom had half a mind to set me up with a Georgian girl. To be honest, the longer I stay in this country, the more inclined I am to accept…
The next day, we took off with the 19 year-old son on the bus to Tbilisi. He was heading out for his final exams–he’s hoping to study law and tourism, to come back and help the family business. We came down past Shaori Lake through Tkbuli. One of the back tires blew out near the Kutaisi-Tbilisi road, but we made it out in one piece. Tomas continued up toward Zestaponi, while I got out to catch a bus heading back to Kutaisi.
Four months ago, I would have felt totally lost, but I’ve been around Georgia so much by now that it was a piece of cake. Went into town for some lunch, then came back for a much-needed shower.
So that was the trip! It was amazing–I definitely recommend heading up that way for anyone who has a chance. There’s a lot of beautiful country up this way, as well as some genuinely good people. The best sights in Georgia can be a little hidden, and Racha is full of them.
So I think I’ve clocked in about 1,000 kilometers this past week, mostly between Kutaisi and Tbilisi. Seen some interesting things, met a lot of interesting people, made some good memories, and thought a lot of deep and poignant thoughts.
Unfortunately, all this travel isn’t conducive to blogging. I’ve got five days before I fly back to the States, and updates are probably going to be sparse until then. If you were wondering what happened to the Trope Tuesday posts, don’t worry, I plan to get back to them (and hopefully pulling in some guest bloggers) after this week.
Tomorrow, I’ll head out to Racha, one of the more remote areas in Georgia. It should be interesting. Here’s a video with some photos of the region (and traditional music):
I have no idea what we’ll find there, but it’s definitely going to be an adventure.
As far as the writing goes, I’ll probably finish Star Wanderers somewhere between here and New York City, and publish part I in July after I’m a little more settled. Didn’t finish it this weekend, but I’m only two scenes and an epilogue from the end, so if all else fails I’ll just finish it on the airplane.
As for the next project…you know, I’m not even going to try and look that far ahead. I’ve got plenty of ideas tugging on my brain and I’m sure the next story will more or less write itself, so long as I don’t get in the way. Instead, I’ll leave you with this:
It’s an interesting piece of Soviet-era art on the side of a factory in Zestaponi. When I come back in September, I’ll have to do a post on all the crazy-cool Soviet-era stuff that’s still around. The USA wasn’t the only country that made it into space–or even really the first!
So the finalists for the first quarter Writers of the Future have been announced, but there hasn’t been any word on semi-finalists or silver HMs and probably won’t be until the winners are announced. I can’t really publish part I of Star Wanderers until I hear back, so that means more waiting. Grrr…
In the meantime, I’ve been finishing up the rough draft of the full-length novel. I’m currently on the last chapter, probably about 2k words from the end. Maybe I’ll finish it tonight…who knows? I’m currently in Tbilisi, traveling over the weekend, but I’ll see what I can do.
This will be the seventh novel I’ve completed, including one that I trunked and two that I haven’t published yet. There’s a weird sort of feeling when you get to this stage, like coming to a turning point in your life as one phase ends and another begins…it’s difficult to describe. Since I really am at a turning point like that in my life, perhaps my view is a little bit biased, but I do feel like finishing this novel is having something of an influence.
I could ramble on for a while, but I think this is as good a place as any to stop. Besides, I want to get some writing in. I’ll leave you with this photograph:
This was when I knew I’d fallen in love with Georgia.
Taken today on the train ride from Kutaisi to Tbilisi. These are the Lesser Caucasus Mountains…I’m not sure what the name of the river is here (there are maybe half a dozen of them) but the view is pretty awesome. Seriously, it’s like a thickly forested version of Glenwood Canyon from the States.
Good stuff. More on Georgia later–but first, I have a novel to write.
So today was the last day of school in Georgia, with all of the craziness that that entails. It was kind of sad to say goodbye, even though I’ll probably be coming back to the same school in September. In the meantime, I’m going to miss being a rockstar to all the 7-12 year olds and giving them high fives after class and in the hallways.
I haven’t posted much about my teaching experience, but it’s generally been positive, though not without its ups and downs. I’ve met a lot of great people, taught a lot of great kids, and lived in a culture very different from my own. I’m not sure how I’ve grown yet, or what I’ve learned from the experience, but it isn’t over–I’ll be back after the summer, for a least one more semester.
I asked to be placed in the same school again, though I’ll be changing homestay families. If they can’t find another family in this district, I asked to be placed in a village near Kutaisi. It’s impossible at this point to say what will happen, though, and things in this country tend to change without notice.
When I came to Georgia, my goals were to find out if I could balance teaching English with my writing career, to get some useful teaching experience, and to gain some cultural exposure that would enhance my writing. On all three counts, I think I’ve had success.
My writing productivity has gone down slightly since coming out here, but I think that has more to do with the homestay and finding a good, quiet place to write. I’m still writing every day, just 1.5k words instead of 2.5k. Teaching English isn’t the problem–in fact, it’s probably one of the best careers for aspiring writers, just so long as you know your creative process and have a modicum of self-discipline. I’ll probably do another post on that later.
As far as teaching experience, I don’t know how much my time here in Georgia is going to help my resume, but it has helped me to have a bit more confidence when it comes to teaching. I still feel like there’s a lot of room for professional improvement, though, and it’s going to be difficult to get that here. I like Georgia, though, so I’ll be happy to come back. If anything, I figure one year looks better on a resume than six months.
And as for cultural exposure, coming out here was definitely a good move. Living in a developing country changes your perspective in a lot of interesting ways, and Georgia is so different from America that I’m sure I’ll be talking about it for years to come. How all of this will affect my writing, I don’t exactly know, but I’m sure it will only enhance it.
So yeah, that’s been my experience so far. The last day of school was kind of bittersweet, but I’m definitely looking forward to coming back!
At the crossroads of Europe and Asia, Christianity and Islam, the progressive West and the reactionary East, the peoples of the Caucasus lie poised between three empires and their own dreams of independence. And at the city of Baku, where the ancient and unchangeable desert meets the oil rigs of the Caspian Sea, young Ali Shirvanshir has fallen in love with Nino Kipiani, a Georgian and a Christian.
A timeless story of forbidden love, Ali and Nino is both the Romeo and Juliet of the Caucasus and the national novel of Azerbaijan. It is as much a romance as it is a story of the clash of cultures and identities in our rapidly changing modern world. Above all else, it is a beautiful and haunting tale that will leave you dreaming with your eyes open and yearning for lands that you’ve never seen.
This is, quite possibly, the most perfect book I have read all year. I picked it up in Tbilisi from another TLG volunteer on Sunday, and I finished it at a breathless sprint on Wednesday. But while the story was good, it was the writing itself that really captivated me. The simple yet surprisingly rich descriptions of the alien cultures, so dreamlike and yet so straightforward, often to the point of being shocking–here, let me give an example:
“Shamil’s Prayer!” called Iljas Beg to the musicians. Immediately a wild melody arose. Iljas Beg jumped into the middle of the hall. He drew his dagger. His feet moved in the fiery rhythm of the Caucasian Mountain Dance. The blade glittered in his hand. Nino danced up to him. Her feet looked like small strange toys. Shamil’s Mystery began.
We clapped to the rhythm of the music. Nino was the bride to be abducted…Iljas put the dagger between his teeth. Like a bird of prey, his arms outstretched, he circled round the girl. Nino’s feet flew whirling round the hall, her supple arms depicting all stages of fear, despair, and submission. In her left hand she held a handkerchief. Her whole body trembled. Only the coins on her cap lay quietly on her forehead, and that was the correct way–this is the most difficult part of the dance. No one but a Georgian girl can do such fantastically quick turns and not let even one coin on her cap tinkle.
Iljas raced after her. Without stopping, he chased her round and round. The wide gestures of his arms became more and more dominating, Nino’s defensive movements more and more tender. At last she stopped, like a deer overtaken by the hunter. Closer and closer Iljas Beg circled. Nino’s eyes were soft and humble. Her hands trembled. A wild, short howl from the music, and she opened her left hand. The handkerchief fluttered to the floor. And suddenly Iljas Beg’s dagger flew onto the little piece of silk and nailed it to the floor. The symbolic dance was finished.
By the way, did I mention that before the dance, I gave Iljas Beg my dagger and took his? It was my blade that pierced Nino’s handkerchief. It is best to be on the safe side, for a wise rule teaches: “Before you trust your camel to Allah’s protection, tie it fast onto your fence.”
The whole novel is like that, and it’s awesome. The narrative passes from one description to the next, and you feel almost like you’re caught up in a dream, reading a fairy tale. It’s only the railroads and oil rigs, the mention of Paris and London and Moscow, that make you step back and realize that this isn’t a fantasy novel, but something set in our modern world.
And yet, even though it feels like a fairy tale, the author gets a surprising number of things right. Georgians really do have some of the most beautiful eyes of any people. I haven’t yet been inside the sulfur baths at Tbilisi, but everything else in Said’s description of that city is more or less correct. Kakhetian wine really is the most famous within Georgia, and probably the whole Caucasus as well.
The most gratifying thing is to see how it all comes together. Even though the descriptions sometimes feel as lavish as a Persian rug, no word is wasted–there is a good reason for every tangent, solidly grounded in the story. There are plenty of red herrings and Chekhov’s guns to make the plot twists thoroughly satisfying. But never at any point did I feel compelled to try and predict what would come next. I enjoyed the story so much, I was barely aware of the fact that I was reading.
Whether you’re looking for an exotic romance, or you just want to explore a culture thoroughly alien from your own, Ali and Nino is a book you will thoroughly enjoy. If, like me, you have any interest in the Caucasus, you probably won’t be able to stop coming back to it. And if you’re just looking for a good read, I can think of few books that are more perfect than this one.
Medea Cafe & Bar, a popular expat hangout in downtown Kutaisi. It’s also something of a landmark because of the conspicuously English street sign.
That’s Georgian for “I ♥ Kutaisi.” Like the New York City ad campaign on which it’s based, it’s become a part of the local culture. You can see it on billboards, street signs, stickers, t-shirts–unlike the US, where it’s uncool to wear a band’s t-shirt at their own concert, everyone was wearing their “I ♥ Kutaisi” shirts at Kutaisoba last week.
So since I’ve been living here in Kutaisi for almost three months, I thought I’d give you all a virtual tour of the city–or at least the downtown area, since Kutaisi is really more like a very big village with a city in the middle. But that’s why I love it.
Tsitelikhidi, or Red Bridge Station.
Our tour starts at the main marshrutka terminal downtown, Tsitelikhidi, or Red Bridge Station. The place is a wonderfully chaotic mess of taxis, buses, and marshrutkas, while their drivers pass the time by smoking cigarettes and yelling at each other. Old women wander around the crowds selling khatchapuri and lavash, while people are constantly coming and going. Interestingly enough, this is also where you can find one of the largest concentrations of apothekas (pharmacies) in the city.
I bought an earwax removal kit from this apotheka, along with a bulb syringe obviously meant for babies. The pharmacist thought that was hilarious.For street performers in Kutaisi, the accordion is the instrument of choice.
The sidewalk leading away from the station leads into a long narrow corridor typical of most Georgian street markets, with stalls and vendors packing every available space. Here you can find cookies, ice cream, and cold drinks, both soft and hard; candles, religious icons, and other “souvenirs,” as the vendors like to call them; cheap plastic goods from China, wrapped in dusty plastic; freshly killed meat hanging from butcher’s windows; and all sorts of other random things. But as busy as this place seems, it’s nothing compared to the main marketplace.
I have no idea what’s all on this frieze, but it looks pretty cool. Also, bangs are very much in fashion.This is actually a pretty good place to buy a belt.
The corridor opens up at the end of the block, to a tunnel which leads underneath the main road (Rustaveli, named after the great medieval Georgian writer) to Mirzani restaurant on the far side. At the mouth of the tunnel, tarps and blankets stretch haphazardly over vendors selling clothes, cheap shoes and cigarettes. Further down the tunnel, you can find more clothes, belts, brassieres, more shoes, and all sorts of fabrics.
We continue past an old building with a giant frieze, presumably depicting scenes from the history of the city. There’s a lot of history to choose from–Kutaisi was the capital of ancient Colchis, and a major regional center throughout the Middle Ages, when locally-born King David the Builder united all of Georgia, turning it into a “land between two seas.”
Alas, no hot peppers.This is where you come to buy flour.The candle-like stuff hanging from the top is churchkhela, strings of hazelnuts dipped in congealed grape extract. I assume the jars immediately beneath them contain wine.
Next, we take a left and promptly get lost in a giant bazaar. Here, you can find all sorts of fruits and vegetables, beef and chicken, bread and cheese, wine and beer–basically, anything that you would usually get from a grocery store in the US. Georgians have grocery stores too, but the bazaars are usually cheaper and fresher. Plus, they’re a whole lot more fun. I’ve heard that you can haggle with the vendors, though the prices are so low (1.5 GEL for a kilo of apples) that I’ve never felt a need.
Rustaveli Avenue.Las Vegas casino. Gambling is big in Georgia.The book market. If I could read Georgian, this is where I would spend most of my time.
We spend a little bit of time wandering around before going to the main city park. Heading up towards Jatchviskhidi, you can find all sorts of pawn shops, casinos, and money exchanging places, while near the library (at least, that’s what I think it is) there’s a mini-bazaar with all sorts of books. Of course, that’s one of my favorite places to check out!
Along Rustaveli Avenue, however, the city takes on a pleasant European feel, with attractive cobblestone streets, wide boulevards, and Napoleonic architecture. Here, you’ll find the opera house, the mayor’s mansion, and the central school (of 44 public schools citywide).
The view from just outside Medea Cafe.One of the many flower gardens in central park.One thing Georgians (or at least, Kutaisians) know how to do right is their public parks.
Next we come to Bulvari, the main central park of Kutaisi. On a hot, muggy day, this is the perfect place to relax, with shady palm and pine trees, attractive public fountains, and plenty of benches to go around. Vendors sell balloons, candy, and ice cream, while at the center, old men with cheap plastic cars take children for a ride around the main circle.
The new fountain at the main square. Some TLGers think it looks kind of tacky, but I think it’s a pretty good attempt to capture some of Kutaisi’s ancient heritage. There’s certainly plenty to choose from.
The main city square is on the other side of the park, with the theater on the left, the banking district on the right, and a giant fountain in the center depicting replicas of ancient Colchian artifacts found in Imereti province. It’s one of the many interesting ways the city has been trying to reinvent itself since the end of the Soviet Union. The statue of David the Builder that once graced this square now stands in front of the train station, at the end of the boulevard that bears the same king’s name.
You can see the back of Mirzani’s across the river. It’s probably the best restaurant in town.Tetrikhidi (White Bridge), with a wedding party posing for photos.The Kutaisi gondola. I don’t know why, but Georgians seem to have a thing for gondolas.
Looping back around, we return to the Rioni river and the neighborhood immediately surrounding Tsitelikhidi. There are actually three bridges here: Tsitelikhidi (Red Bridge), Rustaveliskhidi (Rustaveli Bridge), and Tetrikhidi (White Bridge), a pedestrian bridge next to another attractive garden. From here, a gondola takes visitors over the river to an amusement park at the top of a hill. On the weekends, wedding parties often stop here to take pictures, then speed around the city honking their horns and making noise.
Bagrati Cathedral in the spring.Close up of Bagrati. The reconstruction is actually progressing fairly rapidly.
Heading north, we pass through the markets again and cross over Jatchviskhidi (Chain Bridge) to the right bank of the Rioni. After passing another curbside station–this one for marshrutkas heading to the northern villages–we climb a 200 step staircase and find ourselves at the foot of Bagrati Cathedral.
Bagrati is a thousand year-old Georgian Orthodox church, the largest and most important in the city. After the Turks razed it in the 18th century, it lay in ruins for hundreds of years. But now, with Georgia’s newly-won independence and the economic boom fueled by the IMF and other foreign investors, the historic cathedral is under reconstruction. I probably won’t be here when it’s finished, but I definitely want to come back and see it when it is.
The view looking southeast.The view looking southwest. The mountains in the distance are the Lesser Caucasus, about 4000 meters above the elevation of the city.View from the steps leading up to Bagrati. Kutaisi has a lot of churches.
Bagrati Cathedral sits on an imposing hill with a magnificent view of the whole city. Here, you get a sense of just how big Kutaisi really is. It’s not a tall city, or a particularly busy city, but compared to the rest of Georgia outside of Tbilisi, it’s pretty huge.
Unlike Tbilisi, however, the city has had very little exposure to the West. People still stop to stare curiously at foreigners, and hardly anyone speaks English. It’s much quieter than Tbilisi, too, with fewer cars, more parks, and lots of gardens and orchards, even in the more crowded districts. People live closer to the land, and travel often to the outlying villages where they still have friends and family.
Perhaps the best way to put it is that Kutaisi still possesses that sense of rustic Caucasian innocence that Tbilisi has since lost. You can hear it in the way people laugh and see it in the way they kiss and are kissed by their children. For a city that was legendary long before the maps showed America as a separate continent, that’s no small thing.
Everywhere I go, I see people playing ნარდი (“nardi”), known in English as backgammon. Men and women, children and the elderly–everyone knows how to play, and just about every family owns a backgammon set. It’s popular everywhere in Georgia, but it’s especially popular here in Kutaisi, where it’s not uncommon to see clusters of old men playing on the side of the street.
I recently played in a nardi tournament at my school. Long story short, I was massacred (I still want a rematch with the principal), but the experience got me thinking about how the game kind of parallels what life is like in Georgia. As a foreigner, I’m sure I don’t have a complete picture, but it’s an interesting way to look at things, and I don’t think it’s completely off base.
So anyways, here’s my theory on how life in Georgia is like a game of backgammon:
1: Everything is driven by chance.
In backgammon, every turn starts with a roll of the dice. Likewise, in Georgia, people tend to approach life like a game of chance. Good things happen, bad things happen, but you’re never totally in control of your own destiny. When your luck turns sour, the best thing you can do is just resign yourself to it until things get better.
One thing I’ve noticed about my host family is that they play the lottery almost every day. Even when they aren’t playing, they usually tune in to see the results, probably just from force of habit. I don’t know if every family is like this, but there are stands to buy lottery tickets in every major district of the city, and every kiosk sells them.
It’s not just the lottery, either–there are tons of casinos too. In fact, Georgia is a very popular tourist destination for Israelis simply because of all the gambling. That doesn’t mean that everyone in the country is a hardcore gambler, though–but if life is ultimately a game of chance, you might as well put a line or two in the water, right?
2: Skill is the ability to manipulate chance in your favor.
Even though backgammon is essentially a game of chance, there’s a lot of strategy to it too. The key is to maximize your own options while limiting the options of your opponent. It’s all about knowing when to move aggressively, and when to protect your own interests.
Likewise, even though Georgians put a lot of trust in luck, they also know that it’s better to make your own luck than to wait for luck to find you. While my host family does spend a little bit on the lottery, they spend a lot more on physical improvements and their kids’ education. My host dad works until 8pm every night, sometimes later. They aren’t rich, but they’re taking advantage of opportunities their parents didn’t have, and making sure their children have more opportunities than they did.
3: No amount of skill can change the established pattern.
There’s not a whole lot of variation in backgammon. Every game starts with the same setup, and follows the same general pattern: block your opponent while doing your best to advance. Once your last piece passes your opponent’s last piece, it becomes a race to see who can get all their pieces home first. Short of changing the rules, there’s really no way to break the game.
Likewise, life in Georgia is still very much about tradition. If you were born in Kutaisi, you’ll probably die in Kutaisi. If your parents are Orthodox, then that’s what you are, too. If you’re a woman, you live under a certain set of restrictions and expectations. Likewise, if you’re a man, there are certain things you’re expected to do to prove your manhood.
No matter how much Georgia changes to become part of the modern world, it’s an ancient country with a very, very long memory. Most social norms aren’t going to change overnight, and some of them probably won’t change at all. While this might seem incredibly stifling to us in the West, it does have its advantages, such as offering everyone a sense of identity and giving them a place where they know that they belong.
So that’s my theory. I don’t know if this is why backgammon resonates so much with the people here, but it’s a fun way to look at it. Now I just need to figure out which game is the most like life in the US. Poker? Monopoly? Dungeons & Dragons?
Orthodox Easter is April 15th, and in Georgia, most places take off four or five days for vacation. In typical Georgian fashion, we didn’t know for sure how many days we had off until a couple of weeks before the break came up, but fortunately that was time enough to find out where some of the other TLGers in Kutaisi were going and tag along with them.
Our group consisted mostly of TLGers and embassy staff from Tbilisi, friends of my friends in Kutaisi who came out at the same time last year. For 300 GEL (about $185 USD), we got a private marshrutka and tour guide for four days, 3- and 4-star hotels each night, breakfast and dinner, and tickets to some of the more interesting sights between Reza and Trabzon. Multiple entry visas were $20 USD each, and the exchange rate in Turkey was quite favorable.
We met up at the McDonalds on Tchavtchavadze Street at noon and went up to see Motsameta Monastery. In spite of the fact that it’s so close to Kutaisi, this was my first time going up there, and I must say I was quite impressed! The monastery is situated on the top of an imposing cliff where the Tsqaltsiteli River makes a sharp bend. The English translation of the river is “red water,” named for the two Christian martyrs who were executed on the site of the monastery by the Muslims shortly after their conquest of the region.
Some priests hanging out by the chapel on Easter Sunday.Detail on the door handles to the monastery chapel. Georgians take their grapes quite seriously.
I spent most of the vacation relaxing, so I didn’t take many spectacular photos. But Motsameta was really fantastic–I’ll have to go back sometime to do it justice. There’s a forest trail that goes between Motsameta and Gelati Monastery, where David the Builder is buried, and I’d like to hike that before I come back to the states.
Next, we drove down to Batumi on the Black Sea, where we spent some time wandering the Botanical Gardens. It’s a really nice place, with trees and plants from all over the world right up against the seashore. Very peaceful. It’s pretty big, though–I walked for almost an hour along the main road without getting to the end. And of course, there are many places along the way where you can stop and wander around for a while.
The Black Sea, visible through the trees of the Batumi Botanical Garden.Some red and white rose bushes. There are tons of flowering plants in the gardens, so spring is a really great time to see the place.A small spring in the middle of the Batumi Botanical Gardens. There are springs like this scattered across Georgia.
Batumi is an interesting place–not as big a city as Kutaisi, but with more money, hotels, casinos, and resorts. It’s right on the Black Sea, but the snow-capped mountains of the Lesser Caucasus range are right behind it, so you’ve got a big mix of climates and landscapes all within a short drive.
Batumi, Adjara Republic, Georgia.
The other TLGers were impressed to see that the roads are actually paved–apparently, there’s been a lot of construction in the past year or so. It’s not completely finished, but walking around downtown is quite pleasant. We hunted for ice cream and eventually settled on a smoke-filled cafe on some random street corner. Good times.
We spent the next morning crossing the border, a process that was surprisingly disorganized. The system on the Georgian side was pretty straightforward, but on the Turkish side we had to wait on the curb for a long time, with giant eighteen-wheelers driving past us and the sun beating down. It wasn’t too bad, though–definitely not worse than the Allenby crossing.
We drove for an hour, stopped in Reza for tea and lunch, then went on along the seashore to Trabzon. In Reza, I stood at the edge of a garden overlooking the city when the call to prayer started up. It brought back a lot of fond memories. 🙂 Turkey is definitely a Muslim country, with mosques everywhere, pencil minarets dotting the cityscape like steeples, and women dressed in colorful hijabs.
View of Rize from Rize Castle.Interior of the Little Haggia Sophia at Trabzon. It’s a pretty modest sized basilica, now a “museum” which basically means it’s not used for religious services. It needs renovation.
Compared to Kutaisi, Trabzon is a large and well-developed city. The downtown marketplace was packed, but the streets were well-paved, the shops were quite nice, there weren’t any beggars and basic amenities weren’t hard to find. Almost no-one spoke English, which made communication difficult since I don’t speak any Turkish, but it was surprisingly easy to make friends. We stopped for lunch at one place, and after a very difficult time trying to explain that we didn’t want any meat in our sandwiches (most of the girls in our group were vegetarian), the restaurant owner actually let us eat for free!
Some of the other volunteers had asked that we go to an American style mall, so we spent a few hours there before going to the hotel. I must confess, I was bored out of my mind. Nothing but clothes stores and Turkish fast food restaurants–it was identical to an American mall in almost every way. I suppose that that’s why the others wanted to go there–after spending a year in Georgia, they probably craved someplace that feels like home. But I’m not there yet, so that particular excursion was kind of boring.
The next day, we went up to Sumela Monastery in the mountains, and from there to Lake Uzungol. The monastery was quite cool, because it’s perched literally on the side of a cliff, almost 500 meters above the valley floor. Unfortunately, the friezes and other artwork was quite damaged, so I didn’t feel compelled to take many pictures, but it was fun to hike up there and see the view. A bunch of Turks laughed at the way I ran up the path, and the fountain at the top had some FREEZING cold mountain runoff. It was a lot of fun.
Sumela Monastery from the top of the canyon. The surrounding countryside is absolutely gorgeous.Inside the monastery complex itself. Many of the buildings are new additions, but there are some original structures.
At the lake, I bought a piece of Turkish silverware for my host mom that ended up being a huge hit. A lot of the shops were really touristy, but it was fun anyway and the landscape was quite beautiful. Reminded me a bit of Colorado. We stayed in a mountain cabin and the bedsheets smelled like cigarettes, but otherwise it was quite comfortable.
Adjaruli khatchapuri. If you eat this every day, you will have a short and happy life.
On the way back, we stopped in Batumi for dinner and had Adjaruli khatchapuri. Khatchapuri is the main Georgian go-to food–it’s basically cheesy bread with a thick, doughy crust. In Adjara, though, they take it a couple of steps further.
Immediately after taking the bread out of the oven, they crack an egg in the center, which gets cooked a little by the heat but otherwise remains raw. They then take a huge slab of butter and plop it right in the center of the yolk, where it melts in and gets everywhere. To eat it, you stir the egg around and work your way inward from the crust, dipping the bread in the molten gooey center. Between the cheese, the egg, the butter, and the bread, you get a pretty heavy meal–delicious, but heavy.
After that, we took to the road again, talking about all sorts of stuff and having a generally good time. Our tour guide was a great guy, and we had a lot of fun racking his brain. The other lady from the company was quite delightful, and talked with me a lot about Racha, growing up in Kutaisi, her experiences living in the Persian Gulf, etc. It was a long ride, but it went by pretty fast, and we pulled into Kutaisi around 9pm.
All in all, a fun, relaxing vacation, and a good chance to get out and see a little more in this part of the world. Turkey was nice, but I have to admit, I felt a bit like I was coming home when we crossed the border back into Georgia. It’s not as clean or developed, but it’s got a feel to it that isn’t quite like anything else. I like it.
