I had been in Turkey for 61 days. Prior to leaving the United States on January 3, the longest I had ever been outside of the country was 67 days. I had been in Turkey for almost as long as I had ever been abroad in a single stretch. I was getting anxious. Well, mostly, the fact that I hadn't been able to get a resident permit made me feel claustrophobic and anxious. That's not to say Turkey doesn't have some amazing treasures to be discovered; it most certainly does, and I have enjoyed discovering a few of these. But now, having picked up my permit last Wednesday, I embarked this past Friday for a new scene: Georgia.
Usually I write these things as I go, and thus can be incredibly detailed as to my actions and reactions as they occur. But I am writing this in retrospect, so I will split this up into two sections. The first will be a recounting, to the best of my memory, of what went on last weekend. The second, and significantly shorter, section will be my general reactions to certain things that occurred/I noticed. So without further ado, please read below;
Part 1: Actions
Day 1:
I had a late flight to Tbilisi on March 30, leaving at 11:40pm, arriving sometime in the middle of the night at 2:50am on the 31st. I was to be staying at Why Not? Legend Hostel, which is owned and operated by Peter, my Polish friend who I met in Kiev, where he owns another Why Not? Hostel. In fact, much of the decision making behind ending up in Tbilisi was that I had no one to travel with from the Istanbul area (none of the Duke kids had their residents permits yet) and I felt like seeing someone I knew, as well as somewhere new. I picked up some baklava for him/the hostel on my way to the airport, as well as a bottle of Yani Rakı at the airport.
Peter sent a car for me -- there's a man who works for the hostel as a driver and pretty much exclusively does airport transfers for 20GEL (Lari is the Georgian currency, exchange rate circa 1.6GEL per 1USD at the time of my visit). Seeing as the ride is about 30 minutes from the airport, it seemed like a great deal. Little did I realize how much things in general cost in the city... It's quite cheap.
I arrived at the Hostel at about 3:45am, where Peter, on night duty, opened the gate for me.
The hostel is located in this tiny little alleyway just a few blocks from Rustaveli Ave, the main street in Tbilisi. A large banner hangs in the street pointing out the hostel, and a circular sticker on a gate indicates which door to enter. Of course, I misread the signage and rang the wrong bell, but I'm not sure if I woke anyone up, as I remedied my mistake quickly. From the outside the hostel looks quite absurd. Ramshackle walls and roofing, as well as a rickety set of steps up to the second-floor entranceway make for a less-than-exceptional first impression. But it was also almost 4 in the morning and I was in no mood to be open minded about things.
Peter showed me to my room, where he had pre-made my bed because everyone else in the room was sleeping already. I had the top bunk at the top of the stairs in a 6-person dorm room. I threw my stuff down by my bed and went back downstairs to put the baklava in the fridge. Peter and I spent a little time talking, and around 4:30 I went to bed, trying to climb quietly into a very, very creaky top bunk.
Day 2:
I awoke Saturday morning around 8:30. It felt much later, but I was well rested enough and the light from the open window was saturating the room. I went downstairs, and pulled out my iPad to check my emails on the couch.
The common area of the hostel takes up almost the entire first floor (of the hostel, second floor of the building. And I mean this in terms of the American first/second floor, where the ground level is floor 1, not the European version with ground level at floor 0). There's a couch against the wall by the stairs to the second floor, with a small table and a comfy chair on the opposite side facing the wall. Some bean bag chairs sit in the corner. A fireplace lay fallow (well, since the Winter) in the middle, with a large chest of sheets and towels and blankets adjacent. When you walk in, taking your shoes off in the entrance hallway, the aforementioned items are on your left and straight ahead, and on your right is the kitchen door and a square dining table. Spacious is the first word I can think to describe the place, as it is both uncluttered and made grander with what was probably a 1.5 or maybe even 2-story ceiling. But I digress.
I sat down to check my emails. I had sat next to an American, whose first words to me were, "would you like an inspiration beer?" It was 9:00am at the latest. I declined. Then Benjy showed up - A Stuttgart native and chef by trade who works at the hostel. He asked me where I was coming in from, and when I told him Istanbul, he creepily knew my name and several things about me (from Peter, it turns out), like the fact that I was "here to party." I told him I was there for that and some relaxation, but he just cared about the first reason.
It took the two of them, Benjy and the American, Kyle, less than an hour to get me to start drinking with them. I haven't been out partying at all recently, so it didn't take long to get me drunk - especially when Benjy found out I had brought Rakı and started pouring us shots of the stuff.
Soon after we started we were joined by Timo, from Finland. Around 11am three of us (excluding Benjy who was sticking around the hostel) went exploring. The idea was to hit up some museums that Kyle wanted to see, but we were all pretty pissed and just ended up wandering. Well, church-hopping is probably a better word for it.
We made our way up Rustaveli Ave towards Tavisupleba Square (Independence Square.. I think..), where we made a 210 degree turn to go down Pushkin Street. Somewhere in there (I think, it's a bit fuzzy) we came across our first church, which we went into and marveled at. It was very Russian Orthodox influenced. But we couldn't stay long, we had more churches to see.
I don't know where we found it, or how, but we stumbled around noon on a restaurant. Georgians don't have much of a dining-out culture, so restaurants seem to be few and far between. But the one we found had outdoor seating, and it was a very nice day.
We ordered two Georgian favorites for lunch, which I only knew about because Kyle is living near Tbilisi in a small village teaching English and has learned such things (as well as a little bit of the language). The food was khachapuri and khinkali. The former is a cheesy-bread that is served either in a pizza shape and sliced, or in a form much like Turkish pide, a boat of bread with cheese inside. Sometimes the khachapuri comes with a raw egg cracked inside the boat. Khinkali is a dish very similar to 包子, a Chinese steamed bun. It's filled with meat and, when steamed, gathers a broth inside the bun. The Georgians eat khinkali with their hands, biting a small portion off the side and sucking the broth out, then eating the rest of it a little at a time, avoiding the over-floury 'stem.' We also got a ton of beer, to keep our drunkenness up. Natakhtaki is the local cheap beer, and it is surprisingly delicious.
After lunch and a dessert of a dried-fruit/flour combo that a string of nuts are dipped into like a candle on a wick (found it on the street, and it's amazing), we found ourselves at church number 2. This was was much more colorful than the first, with lots of blue and red and paintings/frescos covering all the walls. But it was still very Russian Orthodox, to no one's surprise.
Our third church was a synagogue. I spotted it from church 2 (a tiny menorah stuck out above the buildings). The gates were locked, but with Kyle's broken Georgian we managed to get the guard to let us in. Timo and Kyle were fascinated by the interior. I don't know about Kyle, who's half-Jewish but raised without a religion, but I think it was Timo's first time in a synagogue. The bimah was in the center of the shul, and a small section in the back left, separated by curtains, was reserved for the women. It was the Sabbath this day but I believe we were between services at the time of our arrival -- many books had been left open on certain pages.
We ended up at church number 4 a short while later, where I was handed a candle that Kyle had bough, and told to make a wish or prayer. I did so, lighting my candle from one of the other candles and leaving it planted in the sand next to two dozen more. Hey, if I can get a non-Jew to don a yamulke, why can't I make a wish for world peace (well, I can't tell you what I really wished... it wouldn't come true then!) in a church? This church was darker and more depressing, with a large blue cross-embroidered curtain instead of a traditional Russian Orthodox walled off section.
Our fifth and final church was at the top of a nearby hill/cliff, inside the old Tbilisi fortress. It was quite a walk, but the view was pretty incredible. We scaled the fortress walls and wandered amongst the ruined portions of it. We also found a bell sitting on the wall that I was stupid enough to give a light tap... and got yelled at by the priest for doing so. Someone in Tbilisi thought it was 1:00 because of me... when it was really something like 2:30. Whoops.
We wandered along the ridge for a while, coming to a large statue of a woman with a sword. Someone told me the significance later, but I forget. I believe it has something to do with Communism.
Coming back to the hostel around 4, we were coming down from our drunk. We attempted to keep it going, but the fact that Benjy was cooking an outstanding barbeque dinner for us all with magical alcohol-absorbing properties, it was hard to do so.
At dinner I met some others whom I spent time with over the next few days. Caitlin, a Boston native (I think?), Timmy and Patrick, two Canadians. Patrick is from Quebec, teaching here, and Timmy is as well, but traveling, visiting his childhood friend Patrick. Also met Leslie, from the US on a Fulbright to teach English in Gori (Stalin's hometown), and her Austrian boyfriend Bernhard, visiting for 3 weeks.
After dinner, all the above-mentioned people traversed with Benjy a bar down the street a ways, behind the Radisson Blu hotel. It was an expat bar for non-Georgians, but a fun place nonetheless. I spent my time with Leslie and Bernhard, and some others we met there (including one very nice man from Tehran who insists I come visit him), as Benjy and the rest seemed to disappear randomly to go to a club, and were too drunk to remember to grab us on the way.
Sleep was early enough, around 2am. I had been thrown full-throttle into hostel living.
Day 3:
Caitlin, Timmy, Patrick, Kyle and I decided to attempt, sober this time, to go to a museum of Georgian art. We never made it inside. Partially because we got distracted by a doll museum, but also because the student price of 1 Lari entrance was reasonable, but to get a required guide to go through the museum would have been an outrageous 3 Lari ($2) per person in total. Unacceptable.
But the doll museum was cool, down by the Mtkvari River on N. Baratashvili Street. Also incredibly cheap for entry, we just had to check it out. And wow, was it creepy.
Dolls from all over the world, some large, some small, some funny, some frightening, surrounded us. A fat asian baby smiling creepily. An old Georgian woman with beady eyes staring you down. A marionette keeping tabs on you, strung up but menacing. I was ready to leave quite quickly.
We walked back to the hostel, stopping only to make the above-mentioned attempt at the actual art museum.
That evening, Benjy took Timmy and Patrick and I to a little underground restaurant. It was upscale, despite being inside a former cellar, and served great beer and incredible food. Peter joined us after a short time. We had for dinner some sort of eggplant dish with a spread topped with cranberries, a chicken and onion salad that was divine, a steamed mushroom/lettuce/onion combination, two types of prepared chicken with fries, a pork dish with onions, khacahpuri (of course), and beer. The total meal came out to 54.50GEL, 11GEL per person. It was that cheap.
Benjy went to meet some friend of his, but Peter, Timmy, Patrick and I went to the Georgian bathhouse.
Turkish Hammam's are more like saunas. Georgian bathhouses are sulfur baths. Apparently many Georgian men tend to go to these Banyos with prostitutes, but we just went with the four of us (maybe the full experience should be saved for the second Tbilisi visit?).
We rented a private room for 40GEL, 10 each, and Patrick and I paid an extra 20 each for the scrub-down which, like in a Turkish Hammam, is supposed to do wonders - it peels off a layer of skin and is supposed to be a great massage.
What we didn't realize was the fact that, 35 minutes into our hour-long soak, a large naked Georgian man would waltz into the room, beckon for us to lose our shorts, and thoroughly scrub down every inch of us. Every inch.
Well, it wasn't quite as bad as that makes it sound. He only walked in naked. Then he put on shorts. THEN he made Patrick, who went first, take his off and lie on the slab. The rest I chose to not watch, but when it was my turn, he had me lie prone on the slab while he scraped off my skin with a special glove. Everywhere. Then I lay supine while he repeated the process. After that, I sat up on the edge of the table, and he rested my arms across his protruding stomach and kept scrubbing away at those. After that a gigantic soapy sponge was pressed to my face and made to fall all over me. And then came the super-ultra-hot sulfur water to wash me off.
Dignity gone, I didn't bother reclothing when I jumped back into the bath. We finished up our hour, rinsed off in the provided freshwater showers (to smell a little less like eggs) and went on our merry way. Quite the experience...
Late that night, around 10pm, Patrick and I set out to go to the casino. We stopped first by the Casino Iveria Tbilisi, in the ground floor of the Radisson Blu. But they didn't have Texas Hold-em, so we left. Next we went to the Shangri La, which was quite a walk along the river by the glass pedestrian bridge, known locally as the Always bridge, since the newly constructed monstrosity holds a striking resemblance to a maxipad.
The women at the front desk, each one named Ana, insisted they had Texas Hold'em upstairs. So we registered with them, and were given ID numbers (I am 32468) and cards to go with them, so they could keep track of what we spent and lost.
They did not have Texas Hold'em. That is to say, they did, but only as a game against the dealer... so basically blackjack, but more confusing and sillier.
I took 50GEL around midnight and laid the money down at the Blackjack table. Patrick did the same, with 20GEL. I was given 30 in chips and Patrick 10. Confused, I pointed to the sign that said "Minimum Bet 10" and asked why I only got 30. It turns out we were playing in US Dollars.
Upset, but not disheartened, I took my $30 (three minimum bets) and started playing. Patrick put his first and last bet on the table too. He lost, I won. I invited him to sit with me while I played for a bit.
30 minutes later I had multiplied my buy-in by a factor of at least 7. Patrick, who speaks Russian (oh, everyone in the place was speaking Russian or Ukrainian... it seems Georgians can't afford this casino, or it caters to the mafia/oligarchy), started hearing the floor managers whisper to each other, glancing in my direction as I continuously raked in more and more chips. At one point, the manager whispered to the dealer at my table, who responded in Russian, "are you sure?" He then started giving me more scrutinizing glances as I made my betting choices.
It may sound paranoid, because I wasn't winning much in the grand scheme of things. But I had lost maybe 10 hands out of the last half hour. For whatever reason, I just wasn't losing. And every time I had a stack that matched my original buyin, I pushed that $30 off to the side, so if I lost what I let myself keep I would walk away with a profit. And I was winning very quickly. Our theory is that they thought I was counting cards. Whatever the reason, when the bouncers started standing behind me to watch me play, I thought it time to cash out, and did so with great haste. I walked away from that casino having paid for my flight to Tbilisi and all the expenses I incurred or would incur during the rest of the weekend. I also walked away with more money made in 40 minutes than most Georgians earn in a month.
Day 4:
On this day, Timo, Patrick, Timmy and another Canadian (whose name I just can't remember, so we'll call him Ian) and I went to Gori, hometown of the late Joseph Stalin.
To get there, we took the metro (which, like in most former soviet countries, is clean, in great working order, way underground to double as a bomb shelter, with trains that move quickly and arrive frequently) to Didube, where the Marshrutkas leave from. We could have gotten a cab ride there for an absurd amount of money, but as is the Marshrutka only cost 5GEL each. We left Tbilisi around 10, arriving in Gori just under an hour later.
We were dropped off just behind the Stalin Museum, which was build next to his childhood home, where he was born and lived for 4 years. His home is still there, in its original splendor (it was quite a squalid situation). His family rented one of the two rooms for themselves and their son Joseph. The neighborhood around it was demolished for the museum and park surrounding it. But it's a simple enough affair, covered by a Stalinist Gothic-style pavilion with hammer sickles and stars overhead.
The museum itself is just the story of Stalin's life, from his humble childhood to his early involvement with Lenin at the very beginning of the revolution (which never happened). We were showed pictures of Stalin carrying Lenin's coffin at his funeral (which didn't happen), and all kinds of other wonderful, completely authentic items, like a young Stalin looking like Groucho Marx. Speaking of which, the pictures they showed created a wonderful image of the evolution of Stalin's mustache!
After the museum our guide took us to his personal rail carriage. Stalin hated to fly, and he took the train everywhere. The carriage was bulletproof and reinforced, and its what he rode everywhere. I actually got to go into his cabin and sit on his personal bed! Then we were let into his house itself, instead of standing outside. Really cool.
In the landlord's room, the adjacent room to Stalin's first home, we found a bunch of letters, amongst other items, that Stalin had written to his mother. What a mamma's boy! My personal favorite, letter is as follows. Keep in mind that at the time, Stalin was the leader of the largest nation on the planet.
"Greetings mother dear!
I got your letter. It's nice that you don't forget us. It is my fault that I didn't write to you, but what to do? I was very busy and I had no time for letters.
Take care of your health. Tell me if you are in need of something. Nadya will send you your medicine.
I feel well.
Live a thousand years.
Your Soso.
22.12.1931"
Really? He thinks she would forget him? What a shame! If my child were one of the most powerful men in the world, I probably wouldn't forget the guy. Apparently the Georgians have a joke: Englishmen have a wife and a lover, and love their wife. Frenchmen have a wife and a lover, and love their lover. Italians have a wife and a lover, and love them both. Georgians have a wife and a lover, and love their mother. Stalin was a true Georgian, then.
After the museum, we said goodbye to Patrick, who had to make the 6 hour trek back to his village. The remaining four of us walked down to the river Mejuda, and followed it for a short while until we hit the Gori Fortress.
There's nothing in the fortress besides the crumbling walls, but the view is magnificent. From the fortress, we could see the whole of Gori, as well as the countryside surrounding it. Beautiful, and windy.
Our next stop was food. I have a theory, that you haven't really been to a place until you've satisfied three of the four following requirements: one thing touristy, one bathroom trip, one meal, and one night's sleep. We had accomplished the first two at the museum. The third was found on Stalin Avenue, just before the major intersection at Chavchavadze Street. A little restaurant, where we ordered khinkali, khachapuri and some new things, like barbecue chicken (with basically no barbecue). It was good, and so cheap, as usual.
Next we headed to the marshrutkas on Chavchavadze Street, just before the River Liakhvi. We got a cab for 15 Lari round trip to a place called Uplistsikhe, a cave town near Gori. It was about a 30 minute drive, and I slept the whole way. But the four of us were crowded into the cab, and it was quite cheap to make the run, especially since the driver would wait for us at the place.
Upon arrival, we asked the cab driver to wait an hour in broken Russian. He said it would cost another 5GEL. We agreed, as 20 is what we had expected to pay at the beginning. We paid 1GEL for entry each. Student prices rock.
Uplistsikhe is in one of the windiest places I've ever been. We found ourselves on multiple occasions fighting the wind to just stand. But it's a beautiful location. People have inhabited this place as far back as 1,000 BC. They used the caves as their homes. There were underground access tunnels, too, which meant they could be besieged and still have water access from the nearby river. Timo and I wandered up to the top of the settlement, which promised breathtaking views. Timmy joined us, with his Jesus-hair whipping across his face. Ian lagged behind somewhere. I'm not totally sure what held him up.
As our hour of hurricane winds-infested exploration wound to a close, we headed back. But Ian fell way behind us, and we didn't know where he was when we got back to the car park. We had to send Timmy back in to get him.
In the car park, we bumped into Leslie and Bernhard, who had returned to Gori the night before and came to Uplistsikhe on Leslie's extended lunch break from teaching.
We got back to the marshrutka parking lot in Gori much faster than our original trip, making me think that perhaps the driver had gotten lost the first time. I handed him 20GEL to pay, expecting 5GEL in change. See, we had paid him 5 upon arrival in Uplistsikhe, so we only had 15 more to pay. But he said something about waiting, and didn't want to remember the 5 we had already paid him. Frustrated, I snagged the 20GEL from his hands and scrounged 15 from the rest of us, gave him that, and we left the car with him yelling at us in the background.
We got on a Marshrutka leaving 10 minutes later, and by 5:30 had arrived in Tbilisi.
I parted ways with the guys at this point, and went to a little cafe near the Doll Museum to meet Ana, one of my brother's friends from UChicago, who lives here.
We were to meet at 6 at the cafe by the Gabriadze theater. Ana was late, stuck in traffic, but we had a few drinks and chatted for about an hour.
Around 7:30 Ana had to meet her mother, who was getting off work, for something, so we parted ways, and I walked back to the hostel.
At Why Not?, I found Timmy cooking dinner for himself. He offered me some, and I couldn't refuse. It was a conglomeration of whatever he found at the supermarket. Some chicken, smoked cheese, and all sorts of vegetables. Quite good.
Later, I went on a souvenir run with Benjy. See, alcohol in Istanbul is absurdly expensive, so I went out and bought a bottle of Georgian wine and a bottle of a Georgian liquor called ჭაჭა, or Chacha. It's foul stuff, but it's what the people drink, so I must do the same. We got the stuff from a local winery - in Georgia, that's a place where they crush grapes and bury the juices in clay pots in the ground for months on end to let them ferment - just down the street. Really cool place.
Jonas and I had to buy the Why Not? Kiev hostel a bread knife when we were there. They really needed it. And so did Tbilisi. So I got one at the supermarket while we were out. Peter was very appreciative of the purchase.
Around 1 in the morning I went out to get eggs. I made egg in a hole for those of us still awake. Peter was very upset that I hadn't told him I could make breakfast, and was just mooching off of the free breakfast each morning instead of cooking for him. I told him I'd cook all he wanted if he hired me in Kiev this summer (I'm pushing for a month of employment with him). We'll see how that works out later.
I had a 4:40 flight back to Istanbul, arriving at 6am. I didn't sleep. just before 3 I left for the airport, and worked my way to the plane. I slept on the flight, but that was it. I went straight from the airport the next morning to class. It was a miserable day of classes. But worth it. So worth it.
Part 2: Reactions
Gori is apparently the only place in Georgia that still likes Stalin somewhat. His policies affected the Georgians at large so negatively, only those in his hometown still consider him a hero of sorts... well, some of them. Apparently if you get a tour guide at the museum who likes Stalin, she'll skip the part of the tour where they show you the Soviet atrocities. Our tour guide showed it to us. It's a hit or miss liking of Stalin.
Among things I didn't know about Georgia; the 2008 South Ossetia war is still being waged. The fighting has ceased, but the Russians still occupy South Ossetia. Also, when they first invaded, they actually marched through Georgia, not just South Ossetia, as far as Gori. They turned back before going through to Tbilisi. Apparently, though I didn't know at the time, in Gori you can find marks on the walls from bullets near the museum. The only reason they didn't go through to Tbilisi is apparently that they didn't want the bad press of invading a neighboring capital city. And I heard that European presidents and prime ministers were taking turns "babysitting" Tbilisi. That is, they were taking turns spending the night in the city so that if the Russians attacked, they could call it an attack on their country, and retaliate. Essentially, had Russia invaded Tbilisi, they would immediately be the bad guys, more so than they already were by invading in the first place. Does that make sense?
Georgian food seems to be a blend of Chinese, Turkish, and Russian food. Surprise surprise. But I still find it interesting.
The buildings in Tbilisi are old and faded. The city very clearly had its heyday in the Russian Empire, and during Soviet times let themselves go a bit. They haven't yet refurbished the city on the outside, though I hear the inside of the buildings are generally renovated and modern. But from the outside looking in, even the nicer buildings are tired and worn. Oh, and there are still plenty of buildings that are legitimately crumbling or completely fallen apart, wooden and stone/brick buildings alike.
I would honestly love to go back at some point. It was a really fascinating culture. Though I should learn to read their scribbly script. It's really strange -- I think it's the first place I've ever been where literally EVERYTHING was unreadable. Even in Korea, the occasional Chinese character popped up, and in Ukraine/Belarus I could sort of read the cyrillic. But Georgian script is indecipherable.
That's all I have for now. Until the next one!
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