It has been brought to my attention that I am a horrible
sister. Therefore, for Mary and Mom, here you go. It just takes a while to
write these up, and life has been a little crazy recently.
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| At the Cathedral in Tbilisi |
The saga of my sister’s trip to Georgia begins, as all good
sagas should, with a bit of a rough patch. Namely, my marshrutka (marsh from
now on out, because I am too lazy to type the entire Russian word for minibus/
a special state of being) ride. If you have ever wondered what the 8th
circle of hell looks like I can now tell you. It starts with waking up to
5:15am in the morning, to get picked up at 5:30. The only reasons anyone should
ever be up at this time is a transcontinental flight or a potentially fatal gas
leak, and you had better make darn sure it is potentially fatal. I will readily
admit, I am not an early riser. The marsh was late to pick me up and we didn’t
leave Mestia until 7am. The realization that I could have slept for another
hour, walked to the center, and still made the bus, was to say the least, a
mite dispiriting. We were completely full by the time we were 20km out of town.
I was wedged in between the driver and another guy up front, which helps
prevent motion sickness but also makes sleeping impossible. Bad Russian pop
alternated with bad 80s love ballads, playing on loop. The whole trip. Two
babies in the seat directly behind me cried and screamed at random intervals so
that you could never get used enough to it for it to stop bothering you. They
eventually started playing their own games on a phone, adding another special
element to the noise. It was exceptionally hot, at least for me, but I keep my
sleeves rolled down for as long as possible because I had a henna tattoo on my
inner arm and kargi gogos definitely do NOT have tattoos. Eventually I figured,
forget it, I’m about to pass out from heat stroke these guys can think whatever
they like about me. I really wanted to just get off that hellish marsh, but I
was also sure in the knowledge that I would just have to get on another one in
order to get to Tbilisi. Our driver got pulled over by the cops and it turns
out he doesn’t have a license. Whoops. He then continued driving. I finally
reached the city, got swindled out of 2 lari (80 cents) by a cab driver and was
too tired to argue over it and collapsed into my bed in the hostel at 5pm. The
next day I got things ready for Mary’s arrival, did paperwork and ended up
having to hitchhike to the airport because I couldn’t find the correct bus to
take me there. After the driver found out I was a teacher in Svaneti he offered
to help me with anything he could in Tbilisi. His son fences at Notre Dame,
just to prove that this is a small and complicated world.
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| Nini got to play dress up |
After causing a minor scene in the airport when my sister
arrived and probably confusing every Georgian in the place by the fact that the
twins were being reunited I brought her into Tbilisi and fed her before she
collapsed in the way that is inevitable with an 8 hour time difference. We spent
Monday Tuesday and Wednesday wandering around Tbilisi and enjoying the city. We
discovered an inordinate number of lovely cafes and holes in the wall, eating
far too much ice cream and bread products, window shopping for icons and Soviet
kitsch and visiting the Georgian National Museum with one hall devoted to “The
Museum of Soviet Occupation”. Actually we went to the museum two days since
halfway into our first visit the electricity went out for the block and that
museum is creepy as all get out in the dark. When we explained the next day why
we wanted our tickets to still be valid we were waved right in, but of course,
please enjoy our museum. It was so wonderful to have my sister visit for so
many reasons (Reeses Peanut Butter cups anyone?). It was good to be reminded
about my ‘other’ life. I sometimes forget about the life that I have in the US.
As silly as it sounds, because life in Mestia is so different it’s easier to
just compartmentalize and turn it into different lives, Georgia life and America
life, than to try reconcile the two. It was wonderful to speak with someone who
knows me as well or better than anyone on the planet. It was great to laugh and
be silly and generally be a 22 year old woman with all the freedom in the
world, and a bank account so she can enjoy it. It was great to show someone
around what I think of as ‘my’ country (as least within my friend and family
group) and to share its charms with someone I love. Living in a place like
Georgia, you feel a little like you have to prove why you like it. People go to
Europe because they do, but other parts of the world you have to have a reason,
finding yourself or writing your novel or whatever. You can’t just like it
there, something specific has to make you happy. I got to show my sister some
of these things, like the incredible kindness of strangers, the food, the
festivity, the scenery, the piety and history, the friends that I’ve made here.
It was also good to see Georgia from a fresh perspective again. At this point
much of what seemed incredible to me seems normal, so a new arrival can
articulate Georgia far better than I can.
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| I love how epic Ani and I look in this picture |
Mary aptly described Tbilisi as a strange mix of Central
Europe and Calcutta—almost Europe but the occasional scent of exotic spices,
the Persian lift of arches and the general air of “it’ll happen when it’ll
happen” belies something a little further east. I also introduced her to
Borjomi mineral water, and found a convert. Georgia, you’d better start imports
to Baltimore. We were given lilacs one night by the lilac and cucumber vendor
outside our window for being a) pretty b) female and c) Georgian speaking. They
were lovely and smelled great. I took Mary inside her first mosque ever and the
caretaker was super nice about it. I then proceeded to blow her mind by
explaining its used by both Sunnis and Shias ever since the Shia mosque was
blown up by the Bolsheviks. This is the equivalent to Catholics and Anglicans
getting together in say, Northern Ireland, and worshipping in the same
building. Georgia’s different like that. We also visited a synagogue and any
number of beautiful churches, finishing at Sameba, the beautiful new Cathedral
of the Trinity up on a hill, completed only in 1998.
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| It had occasionally been noted that my sister and I share a slight resemblance |
After three days in Tbilisi we took the night train to
Zugdidi and then the morning marsh to Mestia. We discovered the $11 for first
class is more than worth it. I became a complete convert to Georgian Railways
and I plan on taking it rather than the marsh whenever possible. I got very
annoyed with the tourists on the marsh and got maybe a little too judgy,
surprising even my sister with my cynicism, which takes quite a bit. One
interesting and unexpected thing I have learned here in Georgia is exactly how
to get my bitch on. Don’t get me wrong, the nice Midwestern girl is still
there, but I’ve got a bit more edge now, and I no longer feel bad letting you
know exactly what I think. I frankly get annoyed with tourists though,
especially because once they start showing up, they assume that I am part of
their crew. Georgians easily make the distinction though. Also, I find it funny
when I speak Georgian with other locals on the marsh and the tourists then
English-speaking tourists try to ask in broken Russian how to do things.
Typically this ends with the driver turning to me and going “Translate
please”. Once in Mestia I settled Mary
in for a nap and did some work around the house. That afternoon we went to
Access and she got to meet some of my students and then we went to the wedding.
Poor Mary was freezing cold up here in Mestia, and I will readily admit it’s a
tough transition from Tbilisi to Mestia. I had been boiling in Tbilisi so I was
pretty comfortable in Mestia but I had to layer Mary up pretty well before she
could go to the wedding. Everyone was very shocked to see my double at the
wedding with me, but since I had told people my sister was coming they were
also delighted to get to meet her. We made the rounds of the wedding tent and
were personally ensconced at the bachelor table by two of my students. They are
apparently going to be working more actively on finding me a husband. I got my
Georgian on and urged my sister to “eat eat” and “drink drink”. The geography
teacher from my school was the tamada and when I asked one of my friends at the
bachelor table whether he was related to the bride or groom he replied “both”.
Of course. My friend Dato gave Mary a ride home when she got tired and I went
back to the wedding for a little more festivity before coming home for some
well-earned rest.
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| This is what the kids look like in my mind all the time |
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