Easter Break in Svaneti

The true skyscrapers on this Earth are mountains for they can reach so high as to grace heaven. The Greater Caucasus Range forms the border between Russia and Georgia, and Russia and Azerbaijan. These mountains are the tallest in Europe, the ragged, snowcapped peaks souring over 18,000 feet in places. This range is formidable, mythological, wild. It is here that Prometheus was chained to a mountain, where mountain men and women lived in the clouds, where the hearts of some of Russia's greatest literary heroes were drawn. Mikhail Lermontov wrote this in his work Hero of Our Time: "All around the valley tower formidable mountains, reddish crags draped with hanging ivy and crowned with clusters of pine trees, yellow cliffs grooved by torrents, with a gilded fringe of snow high above." The region of Svaneti in particular was for a long time, so remote and inaccessible that no foreign enemy ever was fully successful in conquering and taming it. Because of this, the unique culture, language (unintelligible to most Georgians outside this region despite it being in the same Kartvelian language family), and heritage of its inhabitants, the Svans, have survived largely intact.

Up until about ten years ago, blood feuds among neighbors still occurred in Svaneti. In addition, due to severe economic problems, a harsh climate, and natural disasters, it became a safe haven for criminals making it very dangerous for tourists and trekkers to travel throughout Svaneti. Around 2003, Georgian President Mikheil Saakashvili sent in Georgian Special Forces to carry out large scale anti-criminilization and anti-corruption operations which resulted in significant improvement of the situation.  Today, the region is considered very safe…so for all of you are reading this worrying about me traveling alone, fear not. I am back in one piece with a singing heart and stirred imagination.

You see, these towering mountains were truly where it all began for me. Ten years ago, I watched in horror as Chechen terrorists seized an elementary school in the semi-autonous Russian Caucasus Republic of North Ossetia-Alania. Something about this event stuck out in my memory beyond the atrocity - I wanted to know more. This was a time when I was truly starting to develop interests that reached beyond my immediate world and surroundings. I was fascinated, although it was not as defined at the time, by military history and despotic leaders. World War II and Joseph Stalin fit both of those and I found him by discovering the Caucasus and I discovered Russia (and Georgia) through Stalin and the War. Another simple fact about my intrigue over the Caucasus was the very connection I felt with mountains. Mountains have a way of opening me up, easing me, stirring my soul. Ten years of dedication and determination, of passion and devotion, of research, of papers, of books, of classes, of travel, of discussions and I finally was able to actually be in the place that had spawned all of it.

Aside from all the personal significance for which I wanted to travel to Svaneti, it also was a matter of practicality. For all the reasons I outlined above, I wanted to spend more than just a weekend there, I really wanted to get a feel for the place, not to mention the sheer logistics of just getting there.

I stayed in Mestia, the administrative center of this region, nestled deep within the mountains and mere kilometers from the Russian border. Mestia is a launching point for trekking, horse riding, and skiing. I would only engage in the first, and even then nothing too serious, I just casually blazed along rural roads that weaved through little mountain hamlets and fields of farm animals. Easter weekend that happened to fall right during the shoulder season of mid-April caused the town of Mestia to be pretty dead - hardly anything was open. Even if things had been open, it would not have changed the scheme of things all that much because there were no independent restaurants or cafes or significant shops of any kind. There were a couple of small, open markets that sold the same general hodgepodge of cheap imported items, food, drinks, and cigarettes that I have found to be so pervasive and indicative here in Georgia. These types of shops are everywhere. The only restaurants in town were ones attached to hotels and home stays and after an especially awkward, lonesome Sovietesque meal in one of these places, I opted to have dinner at my hotel for the rest of my stay.

Six days I was in Svaneti, including two days of travel back and forth. I left Keda mid-morning on Thursday and two marshrutka rides later, I ended up in the small city of Zugdidi, the gateway of the Caucasus. The plan had initially been to take a marshrutka up there, but by the time I arrived to Zugdidi in mid-afternoon, the marshrutka was not going to depart because there were not enough passengers. I finally convinced the two other intended passengers, an old Georgian lady and the all too common, all too sketchy middle-aged Georgian man, to take a taxi (well not so much the man, but he decided to come along anyway). Taking a taxi definitely cost a great deal more than taking a marshrutka would have, but honestly, I did not mind. I was just excited and eager to be heading into the mountains. The ride to Mestia was absolutely spectacular.

The front range of the Caucasus right outside Zugdidi is already lush
and in full spring glory.

The Zugdidi-Mestia Highway

The wild and rugged peaks of the Caucasus Mountains as seen
from the Zugdidi-Mestia Highway.

By the time we arrived in Mestia, it was evening and just growing dark, and the middle-aged Georgian man insisted I stay with him. I tried to explain to him an innumerable amount of times that I had already booked a hotel, but because he spoke poor Russian and I poor Georgian, it was all lost on him. He followed me through town until I approached the entryway of my hotel and then he understood. I appreciated his offer, but I did not feel entirely comfortable for many reasons, and I said thank you and goodbye.

Friday I spent all day wandering around Mestia, checking out churches, rivers, and side streets. I also met a Georgian man later in the hotel named after John Wayne - he proceeded to engage me in a long conversation about American Westerns.  In pictures, you will see what I saw and did (especially since everything was closed):

The town of Mestia.

One of at least half a dozen churches in Mestia. 

Seti Square in the center of Mestia. What is interesting about it is that
these buildings that you see are just merely facades. They are gutted inside
and it does not look as if they were ever developed.

An alley that branches off a side street. 

Yours truly standing in front of the iconic Svan watchtowers that were
used in days of old as defense to watch for both invading foreign enemies and feuding neighbors.

Cows are everywhere in Georgia.

Saturday was a gloriously beautiful, sunny, warm day. I decided to take a walk to the center of town to see if the information center and ethnography museum were open (they were not) and ended up walking over a bridge that teetered above a deep gorge. I would have taken pictures but it was littered with trash. An elderly Georgian man passed me by in a marshrutka brimming with hay, stopped, and asked me if I wanted a ride to Ushguli, Europe's supposed highest inhabited settlement. Now, I consider myself a fairly good judge of character and have fairly good intuition and sensed no harm from this man. Since I wanted to see Ushguli, I hopped in. Fifteen minutes into the ride and six or so kilometers out of town, I realized that this man was not a local and thus severely underestimated the supposed travel time to Ushguli (he had said only half an hour, which I found suspect). I was not prepared to spend the night anywhere but Mestia and told him to leave me on the side of the road so that I could walk back. At first, he was hesitant, but I convinced him in short order when I spotted some American tourists and before I knew it, I was in the cleanest vehicle that I had seen in months and was wearing a seatbelt! For the next couple of hours, I hung out with these American tourists, who happen to be currently living and working in Tbilisi, crisscrossing the valley from village to village.

Mount Ushba clocks in at over 16,000 feet.

Old churches housed in the iconic watchtowers.

Just beyond these mountains sits Russia. 

The view from one of the villages.

At midnight on Easter, all the churches in Mestia began to ring, and I listened as the beauty and jubilation of the tolling echoed throughout the valley for five minutes. Easter Sunday turned out to be another beautiful day and I went for a walk along the Zugdidi-Mestia Highway and counted the cows and towers that passed me by.

The village of Lenjeri. 

An ornamented door of an old church.

Yours truly standing along the Zugdidi-Mestia Highway.

Mr. Cow and Lenjeri.

The village of Lenjeri.

Monday was quieter, cooler, and rainy and thus I spent most of it at the hotel doing work, alternating between the balcony and my room. That night, I was treated with a brilliant sunset, a perfect farewell to my time spent in these mountains and with which I will leave you before I left at 6:30 am the next morning.

Sunset in Svaneti 

Alpenglow

Poti Anecdotes

Here is a series of anecdotes from my visit to Poti, Georgia at the beginning of March. First of all, Poti is a port city along the Black Sea not far from the border of the semi-autonomous Republic of Abkhazia. This may account for one anecdote:

1.  Fulbrighters, Destinee, Shawn, and I, plus an English Language Fellow from Ukraine were walking through the forest. We came across a random door in the middle of the path, nested between two brambly bushes. We found this odd. Just a few short yards later, we stumbled upon some sort of military outpost.

The not very well secured door.

A military watchtower?

What I thought at first was a tractor, turned out to be
some sort of artillery equipment.

2. We had come to Poti with the express purpose of visiting Kolkheti National Park, a place noted for its variety of birds who supposedly winter there during this time of year. We were dropped off by the entrance of the park, but immediately I found the location dubious. The lettering on the park sign was falling off and there was construction equipment laying around. We never did quite find this national park and instead chose to randomly walk through the forest.

Dilapidated park sign

3. We explored an abandoned building.

4. We were walking along a forest path for awhile when Destinee mused: "I'm surprised we haven't seen any dogs." Seconds later, we heard barking and a dog stumbled onto the path. Shawn waved a stick at it and it ran away. Then another dog started barking. We decided to turn around.

5. Upon arrival in Poti, we asked a taxi driver to take us to a good hotel by the beach. He told us he knew a hotel that was in a "perfect" location "by everything". The hotel ended up resting outside the city a ways in the forest by nothing except a lonesome restaurant. The good news was that it was not far from a desolate Black Sea beach.

The Black Sea

We finally saw our birds: seagulls.

Fulbright Sakartvelo "Georgia"

6. In the restaurant on one particular evening as we were having dinner, at a table nearby were a group of boisterous Georgian men. They were trying to sing and harmonize but were doing both rather poorly. After noticing our arrival, they started saying "no problem" several times in English, I think, to gauge our reaction. After enough alcohol was consumed, one man sauntered over to us to propose a toast to our mothers. He then told us he was single and asked for Destinee's hand in marriage. We Fulbrighters hightailed out of there pretty quickly.

7. And lastly, we explored a little bit of Poti itself.

A residential street in Poti

A typical Georgian house.

This church, in the center of town, was modeled after the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul.

Georgian New Year, Georgian Birthday

This post has been a long time coming, but here it goes.

I made a 30+ hour journey back to Georgia from the USA so that I could spend New Year's Eve in Georgia. By the time I had gone to bed on New Year's at around 1 am on January 1st, I had been up for a solid fifty hours or more. Dedication. Well, by the time I did show up on the doorstep of my host family's house on New Year's Eve, I was met by my a smiling Giorgi, my host brother, who always has a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He had been waiting for my return so we could assemble and decorate the Christmas tree. For those of you who do not know, Georgia and many other post-Soviet states, do not celebrate Christmas on December 25th, but on New Year's Eve instead. That is when Santa/Grandfather Frost and the Snow Maiden visit the homes of children and give them gifts while they all ring in the New Year. I gave Giorgi a Chicago Bulls winter cap and he was instantly smitten. He is a big fan and constantly tells me that he is Michael Jordan (Giorgi is tiny, by the way).

My lovable, mischievous host brother, Giorgi.

New Year's Eve in Keda was all that I could have hoped for it to be - a gigantic feast ensued after midnight that I just had to stay up for. I also watched from my bedroom window families shooting off fireworks all across town. On television, which is always blazing in my host family's house, a group of Georgians danced to a cover version of "Gangnam Style" - that song is incredibly popular here, for whatever reason. But that was the first song of choice to bring in 2014.

My neighbors at a New Year's Day feast (my host mom is in the red and white shirt)

A fifteen day feast ensued where the Georgians ate and drank wine all day. I escaped by going to Turkey for a week, only for everything to be amped up when I returned.

I celebrated my birthday (January 10th) Georgian-style by engaging in an all-day marathon of feasting and, yes, drinking. Those who know me know that I am not the biggest fan of drinking, but I have had more alcohol here in Georgia than I have had since turning 21. I kid you not. By the end of the night, I had vertigo and went to bed early. It was quite the adventure and quite the party.

Birthday feast

Tsitso with my homemade birthday cake. 

Russian Experts Needed

Russia is an area that has been near to my heart for close to a decade now. Also for close to a decade, I have known that I have wanted to become an expert on the region. There were many people who dismissed my interests, but I have always pushed back. I am frequently frustrated with American portrayals and coverage, especially in the media but also in the government, of Russia. Part of this issue stems from the fact that most of the people who are in media and government now grew up during the Cold War and thus have an embedded anti-Russian stance that pervades in the post-Soviet eta. I hope to be part of a new generation of Russian experts, a new generation that tries to understand before immediately condemning, and who tries to address concerns productively before immediately dismissing them. I started my journey roughly ten years ago with an encyclopedia and a piece of paper where I copied down the Russian alphabet, and I do not intend to stop any time soon. 

Here is an article from the New York Times that highlights the deficit of Russian scholars and experts in America : American Experts on Russia Say There Are Not Enough of Them


One of my friends here in Georgia linked me to a newsletter from Harvard University's Russian and Eurasian Studies program that talks about: The Crisis of US Funding for Area Studies It is an issue close to me because I am working to advance my research in graduate school. For those of you who do not know, I was accepted into the University of Kansas and the University of Washington to pursue a Master's in Russian and Eurasian Studies. Right now, I am waiting to hear a decision on funding, which is of critical importance as it will be key to furthering my studies and deciding where I will go next year. I am hoping that the crisis in Ukraine will convince US policy makers that funding for area studies is still vital for US national interests and NOT to cut out federal programs that help to advance expertise for people like me.

If you are interested in furthering your own knowledge of this region, or are curious about the events unfolding in the Ukraine, I encourage you to check out the "Caucasus Info" page on my blog. It has links to a lot of news sites and informational sites on the Russian and Caucasus region.

This picture is NOT my own. Taken in northern Georgia with the stunning Caucasus
Mountain Range as a backdrop.

Musings on Cultural Heritage: America and Russia

Thanks to friend, Hillary Zeiss, whom I met on my semester abroad in Russia, for writing a post about Russia. I encourage you all to read it, it is quite insightful and it allowed me to insert some of my own musings on the topic, which you will find below the link. My words might make more sense if you read her post first, but do as you will.

On Russia's Homophobic Legislature, Demography, and That Time I Lived with Fascists

I have said for quite a while that many people in America still have anti-Russian sentiments left over from the Cold War and that these sentiments flood our airwaves and thus, anti-Russian sentiment still pervades. But it is more than just that, the post above demonstrates a quality that Americans seem to have really perpetuates the anti-Russian sentiment that I see run rampant throughout the States. It goes something like this: America has prided itself on the idea that we were a nation conceived in liberty, conceived in the idea that everyone is created equal, that democracy is the only true and just path, and perhaps also incorrectly conceived as a nation founded on Judeo-Christian principles. (A side note, the simplest explanation as to why Communism, especially Russian Communism, became the dreaded enemy was because the Soviets had proclaimed themselves as godless). The fact that America has been able to exist as a society, as a country, for over two hundred years has given Americans a sense of entitlement, a sense that because we have been successful, our way must be the only way to live properly and perhaps the only way to truly run a government.

What many Americans often fail to realize, and this is rooted in America's own cultural heritage of individual liberty and self-determination, is that every country has their own cultural values. America's sense of individualism, of liberty, and of self-determination is so profound that they fail to see another culture's values and how those cultural values work for that particular country. Instead, when Americans see the difference, they do not see it necessarily as a good thing, they see it as the wrong thing or lesser-than the American way of thinking. But here is something simple: American values work for America but that does not mean that they will work, and most likely will not work, for other countries, whether that country be Russia or Iran or Iraq. Perhaps you can discuss ideas and concepts, but they must be adopted and utilized in ways that are appropriate for a particular country's culture and attitude. After the Soviet Union collapsed and Russia emerged as a new nation, they modeled their government very similarly to the American model of democracy and this experiment failed for them - corruption, government gridlock, and significant economic troubles ensued. Perhaps too simply put, Russia tends to have a far more collectivist attitude than America does, an attitude that happiness derives from security/safety and not from democracy. If you think about Russia of the 1990s and Russia during the early 1920s of Civil War, this makes sense. Does this mean Russians advocate and want totalitarianism? Certainly not. Now, in my opinion, democracy and freedom do not mean the same thing. Democracy is a form of government where regular citizens have the right to elect their leaders;  freedom is to act, speak, and think without hindrance or constraint (according to the Oxford Dictionary). When Putin stepped onto the scene in 1999/2000, he brought Russia back from the brink, he brought back economic security, he brought stability back in government. Of course, not everything Putin has done has been good, but how can Americans truly judge the Russians fairly while failing to acknowledge their own problems and faults. American government is certainly not perfect.

America has many, many faults just like every and any nation on this earth. Are there things of which America can be proud? Yes, of course. Are there things of which America should feel ashamed? Yes, certainly. I am an American and I love my country; I love America's founding principles of equality and opportunity, but I am not going to be a hypocrite. I refuse to be one. I will acknowledge that America has had very great moments and very dark moments. I will acknowledge that America does not have all the answers. I will acknowledge that America is not the be all and end all of perfection, righteousness, and morality where every other nation can please take a seat. This is a dangerous and isolating way to think. What works for Americans will not work in the same way for Russians or for Iraqis or for Iranians. America should share her ideas and advocate for freedom, but she should not impose. What Americans should do instead is to listen, to think critically, to understand, and to humble themselves. There is something to be learned from everyone. The way we, as Americans, as humans, can make a positive difference in this world is to learn and to listen, not to force and not to impose and not to judge without understanding, but to never stop learning more. 

Taking in Turkey: A Week in Istanbul

I figured that I better update you all on my trip to Istanbul, Turkey before the details recede into my memory and I can no longer remember them. I do not think that that has happened yet.

I had known for months that I had wanted to go to Turkey over winter break, but it was not until three or four days before that I actually booked my plane ticket and hotel. It was a solo trip - I would be on my own for about a week, doing what I wanted, when I wanted, at the pace I wanted. I find that I like traveling by myself as much as I like traveling with others.

The Friday flight from Batumi to Istanbul was only two hours and the visa to Turkey only twenty dollars.

Early on Saturday morning, I was awoken by the Ezan, the Islamic Call to Prayer. It was really cool to hear it live - I had spent a decent amount of time during my undergrad learning about the Middle East and Islam, so it was wonderful to hear it for myself - even at that early hour. My hotel was just steps from the gorgeous Blue Mosque and five minutes from the Hagia Sophia. On Saturday, when I finally did wake up, I was greeted to brilliant blue skies and mild January temperatures. After breakfast, I decide to go out and explore the Sultanahmet neighborhood. I visited the Little Hagia Sophia Mosque; I walked around the grounds of the Blue Mosque (I would not see the interior until several nights later); explored the Hagia Sophia, which was stunning; and got lost amongst the dizzying array of shops in the Grand Bazaar. While at the Grand Bazaar, I ended up splurging on a hand-stitched Turkish scarf and was propositioned by at least three Turkish men trying to sell me carpets. They served me tea, engaged in lengthy conversation, and one man was so desperate that he tried to sell me a $400 carpet for $80. I would have bought it had I the space for it and also had not spent way more than I had intended on the scarf. He told me that I broke his heart…

Inside the Blue Mosque

Th Blue Mosque

Hagia Sophia

Hagia Sophia 

Inside the Hagia Sophia

Inside the Hagia Sophia

The Grand Bazaar

Inside the Grand Bazaar

A funny anecdote (I think):
- Turkish men have no qualms with approaching foreigners and asking where they are from, Turkish men are exceedingly friendly and forward. I respond to this question with, of course, "America…Chicago." To which they respond, "Ohhhh….America! I have a friend in Alabama" or "Chicago? I have a friend who lives on 3274 Devon Avenue" or something of that sort.

That night, it was nice enough to have dinner outside! It was only in the fifties, but I was sheltered and had a heated seat - I was not at all uncomfortable. Since I was alone, I never stayed out very late while in Istanbul, not that that is really my thing, so after dinner I headed back to my hotel (and was propositioned yet again to buy a carpet).

Sunday, I awoke to yet another beautiful blue sky. I walked around for a bit before taking a boat tour of Istanbul's Golden Horne and Bosphorus Strait! It was a wonderful day to take a boat ride and I was able to see a lot of the city that way. Istanbul is the only city in the world to straddle two continents - Europe on one side and Asia on the other. Most of Turkey lies in Asia. It is interesting to be living in Georgia, which is considered, at least politically, as part of Europe, but to be east of Turkey. The border between Georgia and Turkey is yet another continental split.

The Bosphorus Bridge splitting Europe and Asia

Çiragan Palace

Many mosques dot Istanbul's skyline.

Monday was just as beautiful as Saturday and Sunday had been and I took this day to explore Istanbul's Topkapi Palace. This palace was the primary residence of Ottoman sultans for nearly four hundred years. It is now a major museum, boasting holy relics from the Islamic world, as well as gifts from around the world presented to sultans of the Ottoman Empire. It is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site. What is interesting about this palace is that, unlike other palaces, Topkapi does not exceed two stories and instead consists of courtyards and spread-out buildings, rich in Ottoman architecture. It was built this way to symbolize Islamic modesty.

Inside Topkapi Palace - a classic example of Ottoman architecture

Ottoman design in Topkapi Palace.

That night, I ate at a place called Montana Restaurant…seriously, how could I not?

Tuesday, I descended into the Basilica Cistern, which built in the Sixth Century during the Byzantine Empire. Later, I explored Sultanahmet's Golden Horn neighborhood, strolling through streets line with sweet shops and cafes - I had a lengthy discussion with a young Syrian man over tea in a sweet shop. I also visited the Egyptian Spice Bazaar and stocked up on teas, spices, and sweets. That night, I had the best dinner by far during my stay in Istanbul - lamb kebabs in an assortment of Middle Eastern spices. I was also served complimentary Turkish apple tea, which was delicious. I seriously cannot say no to tea.

Turkish Teas and Spices at the Egyptian Bazaar

Wednesday, I crossed over the Galata Bridge and wondered around "New Istanbul." I had the most delicious, fresh squeezed pomegranate juice that I have ever tasted in my life and that is not a joke. I also climbed Galata Tower and had panoramic views of Istanbul. From this vantage point, I realized just how massive Istanbul was - it stretched out on every horizon save the Sea of Marmara. I am told that Istanbul is the third largest city in the world with a population living within city limits. During my time there, I saw only a fraction of it. As evening rolled in, I was able to see why the Golden Horne was called that - as the sun dipped, the skyline and inlet glittered a lush golden warmth - Mosques glinted on the horizon and the water sparkled like a jewel. It was beautiful.

Galata Tower

Istanbul's Golden Horn.

Thursday, my last day in Istanbul, I decided to get out of the din of the city and experience a slower-paced Turkey. I signed up for a tour of Princes' Islands where I was able to take a boat across the Sea of Marmara, enjoy a horse-and-carriage ride, eat a seaside lunch, and wonder around the quiet-laid back streets. There are no cars allowed on the island, so the choice of transport is either carriage, bike, or foot - thus allowing for fresh, clean sea air. Perhaps one of the most interesting aspects of this excursion was that a Russian woman and her granddaughter had signed up for it thinking they were getting a tour in Russian. The tour guide kept apologizing to them, saying in English, "Sorry, I don't speak your language." I stepped up and began translating, as best I could, the tour for them. We ended up wandering around and eating lunch together, speaking exclusively in Russian. I was surprised by just how many Russian tourists I saw while in Istanbul.

Horse carriage on Princes' Island

Home on Princes' Island

Princes' Island on the Sea of Marmara

Thursday, it was back to Georgia!