The many weeks
that have gone by since my first trip to Kazbegi have been a blur. As
suddenly as my time in Georgia began, it has equally sudden almost
come to an end.
The weekend after
I visited Kazbegi, I awoke rife with indecision. Where did I want to
go? If anywhere at all? I thought about Borjomi, about three hours
away from Tbilisi, and frowned. I was in no mood to travel that far,
but I also did not want to stay in Tbilisi. I resolved my indecision
by deciding to go east to the city of Telavi in the Kakheti region, a
place to which I had never been and only an hour and a half outside
of Tbilisi. However, since I came to the conclusion so late, I
arrived around 6 pm.
I don't think
anything too exciting of note happened while I was in Telavi. I had
dinner in a very Soviet-like restaurant, empty except for a women's
dinner party and music that blasted so loud it was hard to hear
myself think. I returned to my guesthouse following dinner and just
relaxed. The next morning, I partook in one of my favorite activities
– exploring! I am always looking for new subjects that I can
photograph. After several hours, I took a shared taxi back to
Tbilisi. Here are several photographs from my short excursion to
Telavi:
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| The Caucasus Mountains at dusk. |
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| A church in Telavi |
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| This guy tried to ask me out. |
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| An old beggar woman |
The next weekend
was the halfway point of my summer stay in Georgia. I spent it by
stinking around Tbilisi and exploring. I went to the museum with an
exhibit on the 'Soviet occupation' and walked around Old Town:
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| Vake Park (not in Old Town) |
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| Balconies are famous in Tbilisi |
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| Churches are plentiful |
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| Old Soviet medals |
Another week sped
by and I found myself again wondering what I should do. It had been
three and a half years since I had visited the nearby ancient capital
of Mtskheta. It started off in the usual way, by me exploring my
surroundings: the center of the small town, one of the most important
cathedrals in the Georgian Orthodox faith, and the information
center.
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| Mtskheta |
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| Mtskheta |
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| Jvari Monastery |
Then, in the usual way, a taxi driver approached me and asked
for a ride. He wanted to take me to Jvari Monastery, which sat
perched on the top of a mountain overlooking the city of Mtskheta. It
had been three years since I had seen it, so I agreed because why
not? On our way up the mountain, we nearly hit a man who just stepped
right out in front of us even though he saw us coming – I will tell
you that this is not particularly unusual here in Georgia. After
avoiding him, the taxi driver shouted: “Durak! (Idiot)!” and then
assured me that he was an excellent driver because he drove tanks in
the military. Okay, was all I said. We arrived at the church and the
driver introduced me to a vendor friend of his who spoke a little bit
of English and who had been to America before. We chatted and then I
went to get my customary photos and to pay my respects to the Jvari
Church.
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| Yours truly on the road to Jvari Church |
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| Jvari Church |
After I got back
in the taxi, my driver asked me if I had eaten yet. This is an
incredibly common question here, except when taxi drivers ask, there
is usually an angle to it. They aren't just interested if I have
found nourishment. I don't know why I attract all the weirdos – I
don't understand why they would think I would actually be interested
in someone twice or even thrice my age who I had only just met two
minutes earlier and whose cab was hopelessly out of date. So, when
this driver asked me if I had eaten, I tried to back out. I had
plans, I told him. You do, he asked. Yes, to eat in a restaurant in
Mtskheta. Alone? Yes. He suddenly picked up some Russian tourists and
told me we were all going to eat and drink together. With the
addition of the Russians, I felt better about this venture and so I
agreed. The driver ordered us khinkhali and a bottle of chacha. Only
two toasts later, I could feel the chacha inside me, the buzz, a
slight electrification behind my eyes. He poured me a third shot and
I knew that if I drank anymore, I would graduate to the next step of
drunkenness by getting vertigo and then with, well, not so pretty
results. There is not much of an in between for me when it comes to
alcohol. Either I feel next to nothing, save for that slight buzz
behind my eyes, or I am experiencing intense vertigo. Luckily, I have
largely been able to identify when I will transition to that level
and can stop it. I told the driver I could absolutely not drink
another shot. He pleaded with me: “Just one more. I am toasting to
you.” Not going to work. A little while later: “I am toasting to
American and Georgian friendship.” Still not going to drink. Later:
“I am toasting to you, the American, knowing more about Georgia
than these here Russians.” Ugh...no. Again: “I am toasting to
you.” By then, the driver had finished the entire bottle of chacha,
and yet, seemed no worse for the wear.
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| The restaurant |
On
the way back to Tbilisi, I was sitting in the back of a marshrutka
next to a middle-aged man. After riding half the way in silence, he
finally asked me where I was from, whipping out his phone. Oh
dear,
I thought, another
one...
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| And in case you need to wash your clothes. |
