Local in Sakartvelos

A place like Georgia makes one realize how much we take for granted. For instance, the assumption that a country has one (or maybe two) names. This is Georgia, Gurcistan, Gruzya, or Sakartvelos, depending on which language you're speaking. It's also a common assumption that progress is linear - forward. I was once talking with Janvier about how Europe could have plunged into the Dark Ages and completely forget the technological accumulation of the Greeks and Romans. I see the exact same process at work in Georgia (and Armenia, but this blog is about Georgia): enormous factories; solid public services like asphalt roads, tram and trolley infrastructure, apartment buildings, bridges, bus-stop shelters, cable cars, funicular systems, hotels and government buildings, museums - all signs of an industrial and developed nation, and nearly all abandoned, disused and decaying.

Everything seems to be imported wholescale from Turkey: bags of cement, insulated window panes, trucks (even drivers), clothing, tomatoes, oranges, cucumbers, strawberries, you name it - it's all from Turkey. It seems like a glimpse into some kind of post-apocalyptic Mad Max-esque world. I think LP describes it as post-industrial, agrarian. After the collapse of the USSR they dismantled the country wholesale and sold it off at huge markets in Istanbul and Trabzon: they sold their birthright for a bowl of beans, and now they're hungry again.

People love dissing the Soviet Union. The word "soviet", when used as an adjective, is commonly in scorn. Soviet Hotel. Soviet Art. Soviet Factories. We knowingly smile: ah yes, tasteless, poorly made, and now crumbling. I wish I could have been in the USSR and so be able to speak with authority, but I'll have to make do with assertions. Anything will fall apart if left untended for a sufficiently long time. These people had a subway system decades before Turkey ever thought of it. They have museums, art galleries, cinemas and even theaters and operas in even the smallest backwater towns. Kutaisi formerly had an automotive factory; now the factory is shut down, people are unemployed, and they import their cars from Germany, of course. If I could have communicated with the locals I'm sure I could have learned a million more things that they take for granted but which strike me as extraordinary. Such as tables and benches and picnic areas in remote yet picturesque areas, built for the enjoyment of the public. To compare, Spain is just getting around to putting some of those in, and that with generous funding from the EU. In Turkey we usually prefer to charge for such things. In the remote mountain village of Mestia, where the once-asphalt road has crumbled away into a dirt track, the children take judo and boxing classes in public school, and young boys go jogging along the road in the morning, and they take all of this for granted, as if it were the most natural way of affairs. In Turkey it would be only the pudgy bourgeois kids who could afford, or even think about doing similar things - and then not without a great deal of self-consciousness and pretentiousness. My hosts turned to a Turkish TV channel to honor me, and I nearly puked watching the pretentious young ever-conformist bourgeoisie self-importantly whitewater rafting down some stream and vying with each other in pretending to have the most fun, every last one of them completely divorced from reality and the society in which they live and claim to be the finest of. Yes, I have an ax to grind.

Now the border posts have computers proudly donated by the US Department of Homeland Security, the (new) Georgian flag is always flown together with that of the EU, the borders with Russia are closed indefinitely, two enormous regions (Abkhazia and South Ossetia) are run by separatist forces and completely out of government control, unemployment is rampant, and it's a miracle they survive on such low salaries, considering produce costs so much more than in Turkey, and life is unaffordable even without the 20-100% price hikes recently announced.

A note of curiosity about the definition of Europe. Isn't it ironic how Georgia (which is entirely situated to the East of Turkey, which is in the Middle East) is indisputably considered Europe, and probably will enter the EU relatively soon, while Turkey is stalled indefinitely because "only a very small part of it is in Europe". The illustrious Nicholas Sarkozy passionately and rhetorically asks how they'll be able to explain to school children that Europe borders Syria Iraq and Iran. If Greece had annexed Izmir and Western Anatolia back in the '20s, would their EU membership be questioned because "most of the country is in Asia"? And, incidentally, isn't it interesting how Greece is Western Europe, while all the countries to the West of it are considered Eastern Europe?! But I continue to oppose Turkey's membership to the EU. Just imagine the influx of racist Germans! It would make life intolerable.

When I was last in the country, some 7 years ago, the then-president Shevardnadze was universally hated, and beer-toasts (an insult in Georgia) were always raised to him. Now Saakashvili has swept to power in some "Rose Revolution" (how do they come up with these names?), and has curiously replaced the country's flag with that of his party. Parenthetically, I'm thrilled the practice hasn't caught on in Turkey (maybe they didn't think of it yet) - just imagine having a new flag after every election (or military coup). Yet another example of how democracy is at best a foggy notion in the ex-USSR. Now they don't like the new guy either, and in true democratic fashion, they're likely to keep getting people they don't like.

But they like Stalin! He's like the country's claim to fame. I've heard many an old man explain how good things used to be in Soviet Times, and wistfully muse on what Stalin would have done if he was still around.: Heads would have rolled. There's an enormous Stalin Museum in his birthplace, Gori, but I thought $9 was a bit steep for admission, so I didn't enter.

But vodka is mercifully cheap. Seriously cheap. And a liter of wine at a restaurant costs $1. And so it's not uncommon to meet men of all ages staggering around at all hours of the day. They're usually indoors by dark, though, which is a Very Good Thing.

As there are no reasonably priced (or decent) hotels, we Backpacking Tourists stay in unmarked guesthouses that one learns of through the internet or fellow marshrutka passengers, or kiosk-manning ladies. By the way, kiosks, little wooden road-side booths selling cigarettes, alcohol, candies, and maybe a packet of noodles and a can of tomato paste, seem like the most bizarre invention. Anyway, see my Armenia Blog for a rant about guesthouses. Quite early in my stay I was sick of snack food (khachapuris, a broad class of cheese-filled pastries), so a "room and all you can eat for $10" deal sounded pretty good. Georgians never eat alone anyhow, so as a solo traveler eating in a restaurant where everyone else is boisterously dining in large happy groups, one feels like the most pathetic of losers. Especially as they always toast for (and then shoot down) wine (which is only sold by the pitcher), trying to have a glass of wine with dinner and sample the local varieties (and they have tons of them) is nearly impossible. Homestays with food theoretically solve the problem, except you're a paying customer who (whether they like you or not) they are compelled to humor, and one in a long line of forgotten faces who have spent a night or two (without being able to communicate), maybe signed their guestbook, and then moved on. Bottom line: they don't care about you, and sometimes the goal is to get you drunk as quickly as possible and send you staggering to bed. Thus, all that can be easily sampled of the legendary Georgian Hospitality and Wine Drinking Culture is a monotonous "to your {parents · siblings · children · family · country · friendship · stay in Georgia}", and they can come up with more of the same (and switch from glasses to cow-horns and insist on a glass or two of vodka or chacha) if you're not drunk yet. You're normally not obliged to drain your glass with every toast, but when they break out the horns, well, you can't set it down, so you gotta down it all. I once woke up in a puddle of vomit and then learned my lesson. On the random occasions when the people dining at the next table are sufficiently drunk and stumble over to drag you off to drink with them you don't fare much better either, especially with the language barrier: one time I found myself insulting their country; and on another, hugging and kissing complete strangers while the owners tried to get us to leave, 2 hours past closing time. I was blacklisted and thence refused service at that establishment (which was a real pity). On my last day I me a group of four Estonian chicks who were staying with some dudes from CouchSurfing, and understandably their experience was completely different. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I was a cute chick.

So, having been in the country for a month and a half, and having been to every place mentioned in LP, I can't say I really get Georgia.

Backpackers are irrational beings. We have self-made and arbitrary rules for what it means to "see a place." For instance, I ironically smiled when someone said he'd been in Armenia for 2 days and "it was boring". That's clearly not enough to get a feel for anything. Yet in Sudan, the largest country in Africa, the customary month I spent gave me barely enough time to see one or two spots (and get arrested). If Sudan had been split into 3-4 countries I would have spent at least 3 months visiting the same area. Likewise, if Nagorno-Karabakh wasn't disputed territory and under Armenian occupation, I wouldn't have even considered visiting it. And I don't even believe in the concept of a nation-state! It's bizarre and irrational behavior, I tell you. The smaller the country the more diligently we seek out and find places of interest. Or maybe that's because the guidebooks feel like they have to print a certain amount of pages, and do a fair amount of padding, and we travelers are dogmatic sheep.

One of the very first words I learned was "foreigner" -- Utskhoeli. A very important word to know in any language: ajnabi, faranji, yabanci, khoreji, khwaja. Once you know the word you notice it being said all the time, and it fills you with pride. Because, the very fact that they have to point it out means... you got it! You're half-LOCAL! It's a pity I didn't learn any Georgian, and stuck to remembering my Russian instead, liberally substituting the Georgian word if I happened to know it. At any rate, just take a Farsi word, substitute 'p' for 'f' and tack on a trailing 'i' and it's Georgian (saati, shadrivani, puli, purni).

And I've heard a lot of talk about the swarms of tourists in Georgia, but I've gotta say I've fared pretty badly in the people-meeting department. In fact, until Kazbegi I hadn't spoken to a soul in over two weeks (as is evidenced by the length of my journal entries). Thank God for good ol' BBC and look forward to time spent in places where I can stop anyone on the street and start a conversation. What a luxury!

Georgians are a proudly Christian people. They have super-cool looking priests with awe-inspiring long beards and pony tails under round black hats, and are dressed in long black robes, occasionally seen cruising in bad-ass SUVs and making me want to cry out "I want to be just like you!" There are cool hats beautifully embroidered with crosses, and one of the commonest sights is that of young people crossing themselves when they pass a church. I kinda got into it too: lighting candles, genuflecting on the way in and out of holy places. Their girls are beautiful but accordingly modest and apparently very chaste (apart from the ones who go to "work" in Turkey). I think a plausible explanation for the lack of any girls over 20 on the streets is that they're all married. And then there are the obligatory young couples hugging and kissing on every park bench and under every spreading tree. I've been told that's as far as things get, and if a couple is seen to be dating for more than 3 months the families step in and discuss marriage. Then the newly-wed couple moves into the boy's family's house. And I was told that it's bad form to check out chicks (I wasn't! Honestly!), and I can confirm it from experience: there's very little if any gawking at women, contrary to what one comes to expect from Middle Eastern countries (and Armenia). And the girls of Tbilisi dress in a woodstock/bohemian fashion, with no makeup and in earthy colors (which, I must say, is much more attractive than tight jeans and do-me-now lipstick). And the men have more-than-usual individualistic hairdos and styles, managing to look natural (which also is a refreshment). They all look you straight in the eye in a clear, honest way: none of the no-eye-contact squirming look you get in some places. So, it's European and clearly not European at the same time. I think they'd be more scandalized by nude bathing than even Americans are (if that were possible).

Like I said, I've been in Georgia for 6 weeks, and might even spend more time here. There's still the breakaway region of Abkhazia to visit. When I first arrived it was raining and snowing (in fact, for a while there it was snowing every time I came to Tbilisi), now it's beautiful spring weather (and a little disturbing that it's so hot in May). I've been up mountains, down valleys, through vineyards and wooded hills, to churches and monasteries and castles, and it's a really really beautiful country. Part of the reason I've spent so much time is I'm waiting for the monkeys at the Turkish Embassy to issue me a new passport, which apparently is more complicated than it sounds. In all fairness, they're more helpful than their US counterparts who wasted 2 hours of my life only to tell me "I don't know" in the end (this was regarding information as to who can grant permission to visit South Ossetia).

The people are very friendly, with a genuine smile and "gaumarjos" in reply to your "gamarjobat"s, although they tend to stare if not saluted. They are patient and willing to make the effort to communicate with you, even when all you can speak is gibberish Russian or English. And Russian isn't universally spoken either (not anymore; now they just learn how to say "hello" in schools) so there's a lot of sign language involved. The State Department is obviously full of warnings about real or imagined dangers in Georgia, but I never felt the slightest bit threatened, and definitely not a target. Even in Svaneti, famed for its muggings and robberies, I went on long hikes and even spent a (forced) night outdoors (on a log) and all was well.

Now, as soon as I'm done resolving my passport, my busted-up brand new and expensive shoes (Raichle... avoid like the plague. Died after 2 months.), and permission to visit Abkhazia (issued promptly, but I'm going to have to let it burn and re-apply), I will inshallah be heading to more Eastern locations where (inshallah) both my feet will feel safe.

I've set up temporary HQ in Tbilisi. I have a $5/night (by far the cheapest in town) homestay where they don't remember my name (and I'm too embarrassed to ask theirs) but I show up every couple of days and the family comfortably ignores me and all 3 generations sit together and religiously watch the Brazilian Soap Opera, about long curly-haired intense-eyed Salvatore and his love life. On cold nights they leave the gas oven in the kitchen and the gas stove in the bathroom on all night, which doesn't seem like the most efficient or safe way warm a house, and I'm thankful to be alive. It's cool to have just the right amount of familiarity with a place: to know how to use the subway, where to buy food (and what a reasonable price is), the cheapest place to eat (a den with a bunch of amused babushkas ladling food into plastic bags that you're then supposed to take nextdoor to the wine-den and eat), and to know enough of the alphabet to decipher place and food names and not feel completely lost. In fact, even when on the road it's good to have a little (just a little is enough) stability.

As a final note... After so much time spent on the road I'm finally warming up to the idea that invisibility (or even shades thereof) is the most desirable state of being. It is with shame I admit I felt "like a traveler" thrashing around with long sun-bleached hair and (you gotta admit it) the most gorgeous beard on the road. It's taken some time, but I think I'm slowly converting to the Perrier-Cornet or Martell brand of traveling. Looking like a freakshow obviously has its advantages... you spend time contemplating the meaning of life and learning humility under the mocking gaze of everyone on the street. That is, when you're not trying to make eye contact with the chicks. But it's oh so much more comfortable to not immediately stand out, to not even fear the jeering, to dress and look like a local (as far as that's possible.. I'm not delusional). And especially since the Middle East (sans Yemen) is the worst place on earth to meet chicks... I say give me invisibility!

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