Reflections

May 16th Travelling around Europe you find so many cathedrals, some grand, some fairly simple. Every city, town and village has a church which is the focal point of everyday life. Through the ages religion has been the salvation of many but to some it was a threat to their ambitions. The Catholic Orthodoxy of Georgia like so many others suffered martyrdom by its clergy and its adherents. In 1989 while still a Soviet republic the idea was broached to construct a cathedral. A design by the Georgian architect Archil Mindiashvili was subsequently chosen, the foundation was laid in 1995 and the cathedral was consecrated in 2004. Holy Trinity Cathedral is not too different than any other cathedral in Europe. It is the seat of the Catholicos Patriarch of the Georgian Orthodox Church. But even more so it has become the hope and salvation of a new Georgian people. With the end of this visit we went back to our hotel to pack our bags and get ready for our flight the next morning back to Istanbul and then back home. We have done so much this trip, we have observed how east meets west in Istanbul, we have walked in major cities in Italy and in humble villages of Georgia. The graciousness of Ariana’s host family in Georgia will never be forgotten. The majesty and ancient beauty of Rome is indelibly etched into our minds. Our inquiring mindset has given us an adventure and has stoked the fires to light the way for further adventures, who knows where our next trip will take us? Time to start saving and planning!

Occupation

May 16th We’ve left Kistauri for our final stay in Tbilisi. We’re picked up by the same driver who drove us to Kistauri a couple of days before. This ride is even more, for lack of a better word, thrilling than our last ride. We take off down what passes for a roadway towards Tbilisi. This time I’m sitting in the front seat of the aging Toyota that has travelled many, many miles of these Georgian roads. The hamlets that we pass become blurring clusters of buildings, pedestrians and livestock. As we speed into curves with tires and brakes squealing their protest my heart is literally in my throat. My thoughts are that at the very least we might end up in a hospital surrounded by people greeting us with gomanjabar the Georgian word for hello. But like many things the drive was over none too soon and we reached our hotel body and soul intact. We spent the afternoon seeing the sights in Tbilisi with a visit to the Museum of Soviet Occupation. The museum is situated on an upper floor of the National Museum. Entering the museum one of the first things you see is an old railcar. The wood sides of the railcar are riddled with holes and splintered posts, we soon learn the holes are in fact bullet holes. It was in railcars like this that many Georgians met their fate as they were slaughtered by Bolsheviks spurred on by the ambitions of Joseph Stalin, a son of Georgia. The museum is sectioned into timelines of the atrocities committed by Bolsheviks or on their behalf. We see the identity papers and personal effects of Stalin’s victims. Victims came from all walks of life; the aristocracy, the religious and even upper class peasantry. The victims of Stalin’s ambitions were many. Between 1921 and 1991at least 800,000 Georgians were victims of Stalinist and Soviet terror. This sobering exhibition gave meaning to the next stop on our visit, the Holy Trinity Cathedral.

Supra!

May 15th

Evening is here, Lali and Vanda have been busy in the kitchen all day. Guests are arriving, a toastmaster has been appointed and now it’s time for a supra! This supra is to honor Ariana’s birthday. Georgians are very big on supras as a way of celebrating a person’s life, their achievements, their family, you name it; they’ll celebrate it. Guests seat themselves at a long table that is loaded down with plates after plates of food from Lali’s kitchen. Pitchers of wine are prominently placed on the table and guests are expected to make sure their wine glasses are never empty. Toasts are made to Ariana, to her parents, to her brother, to nieces Grace and Olive, to health and happiness. The night goes on and, spurred on by song and dance, so does the supra. After many toasts and plates of food Gerri and I excuse ourselves to retire for the night. Tomorrow we head back to Tbilisi where we will spend our final day before heading back to Istanbul to catch our flight back home.

To The Hinterlands

Monday, May 14th

Instead of a marshuka we were to be treated to a ride in a taxi, so Ariana’s favorite driver picked us up at our hotel to take us on our 2 hour trip to Kistauri, the village where Ariana teaches. Leaving the traffic choked streets of Tbilisi behind us; we set out to meet the people who have welcomed Ariana into their home and hearts. Once on the road we soon became aware that the speed limit signs that were placed ostensibly to control speed were in reality, road decorations. If the sign indicated a 50 km speed limit, then 100 km was surely a better speed to negotiate with. If the car one foot in front of you in a curve was doing 70 km, then 90 km and a toot on the horn was the speed to use. If a pedestrian should happen to be on the road, all the better, let’s see if they can scatter like mindless chickens. The guiding principle of Georgian drivers is speed, horn and brakes anything less appears to be blasphemous to their automotive prowess. We finally get to Ariana’s village and home, where we meet her host family; Vepkho, Lali, their daughters, Nana, Vanda and their son Dato. We were welcomed into their home not merely as visitors but as family. The house is a large 2 story house that was passed onto Vepkho by his parents. The host family lives downstairs, while Ariana has her bedroom upstairs, the largest area of the house. The house is comfortable but lacks amenities that we are used to as Americans. The kitchen stove for instance is little more than a camp stove hooked up to a large propane tank. During the winter heat for the entire house if provided by one single wood burning stove. Hot water for showers is not provided on a regular basis so baby wipes suffice for personal hygiene. Milk is provided by Lali’s mothers’ cow, so it has to be boiled before use. But in spite of all this there is an air of happiness both with Ariana’s presence and her commitment to her tasks. Gerri and I of course are very proud and humbled by the love and high regard that is shown to her. We did get to take a marshuka ride to the nearest big town of Telavi. We were lucky though, we were able to get a nice marshuka not the usual crowded ramshackle ones that ply the roadway. In Telavi we visited the bazaar, not a touristy one like the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, but the common one where everyday Georgians go to buy their necessities. The first booths that we encounter are the butcher shops where the meat is hanging from hooks in open air waiting for a buyer while the shop owner sits idly by swatting at any flying insect that comes too close. The rest of the bazaar is comprised of shops selling spices, food items, house wares, clothing, you name it, and it’s there. We hired a taxi to take us back to the house for a negotiated price of 8 Georgian lari, of course when we got there, the driver tried to make it a 10 lari ride. So Ariana had to show her counter negotiating skills and kept the fare at 8 lari. Go Ariana! Back at the house we need to rest up for one of the highlights of our visit. Supra!