Three weeks. Three. Weeks. How did this happen? Three weeks.
Right now I am simply SO grateful that I will be coming back, because the idea of saying goodbye to this country forever -- before I have seen Vardzia, Ushguli, Khevsureti, my 59th acient Georgian church (reconstructed) -- fills me with something that feels a lot like panic. I am ready for a break -- SO ready -- but now more than ever I know I made the right decision to not write this place off forever.
That being said, I'm incredibly unenthused about the idea of facing another Georgian winter. But that's almost half a year away so easy to not think about for a while!
It's hard to believe, but I had been in this country for a solid year and change without ever quite managing to get out and do anything alone. I've been to multiple countries and had more adventures than I ever thought possible, but the only solo traveling I'd managed to get done were the epic plane flights from Tbilisi to Okinawa and back. Before Georgia, going it solo was indisputably my preferred mode of travel, but the fact is that Georgia can be a rather intimidating place to adventure alone, especially if you happen to be both a foreigner and a woman. There is safety in numbers, and it's also just comforting to know that there's an extra brain nearby that speaks your language and is going to be thinking of solutions to problems even as you are doing the same.
But still. Not one solo trip?
A couple of weeks ago I decided that my final Great Act before leaving Georgia for the summer would be a solo trip to Kazbegi for a long weekend. I would locate the marshutka, find and negotiate a guesthouse, hike to Gergeti Church and even a little ways up Mout Kazbek -- all by myself.
And no, this is not a post about that trip, which I have not made yet. Last weekend was the Training Wheels Trip -- a day trip to lovely Mtskheta just outside of Tbilisi.
As I believe I mentioned in a recent post, Tbilisi's Didube marshutka station is freaking insane. For one thing, it's enormous, with at least four semi-connected parking areas for the hundreds of minibuses. I got off the metro and began asking directions for the one going to Mtskheta. Only to be told by not one, but TWO Georgian cab drivers that there was no bus to Mtskheta, only taxis. Oh hey, and he happened to be a taxi driver!! What smashing luck! Would I like to take his taxi to Mtskheta??
I'm proud to say that I made no bones about laughing in these guys' faces. Goddam liars. And after about 10 minutes I did find the right bus. What do you know? There are buses that leave for Mtskheta, one about every 20 minutes as a matter of fact. And they do this all day long.
I'd been to Mtskheta before, in the dead of winter with my host family, but we did not stay very long and mainly just went to Svetitskhoveli Cathedral in the center of town before hitting a restaurant for kinkhali and vodka. I thought the town was extremely pretty and told myself I'd be back once spring finally arrived.
But what I'd really come to do on this particular Saturday was hike up to Jvari Monastery.
The only trouble was, I hadn't been able to find any concrete info or directions as to where to pick up the trail. Online, I could only find advice saying that it was best to hire a car, and I didn't want to do that -- expensive, for one thing -- and also, what's the fun in driving? Although this still makes no sense to me, my four-year out-of-date Bradt guidebook gave detailed instructions on how to get back down the mountain, but then also suggested a car to go up and gave only the barest nod to finding the trail from town. How on earth can you get down a mountain but not up it???
I found the tourist office in town, conveniently located just across from Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. I asked where to pick up the trail. And they said I'd be best off hiring a car. I explained I had no interest in that and intended to walk. Well, okay, she said. I would need to find this footbridge in order to get across the river. Then I would need to cross the highway, and walk alongside it for a time, until I found the path up. The path was not marked, by the way. Oh, and also -- there are snakes.
Terrific.
Nonetheless, I set off to try and find this footbridge. My guidebook gave the world's sketchiest directions that included, and I quote: "Head north past Samtavro Church, turn right around the derelict Univermag shop, right following the tarmac road past the former campsite." And turn left at the cow, Bradt? So I was standing in the sun, sweaty, frustrated and confused, staring at my book and wondering what a derelict Univermag shop might look like, and what freaking direction north is since I didn't exactly have a compass on me, when a nice old guy approached me and asked simply "Jvari?"
Yeah, I hired his taxi. He caught me at a weak moment. 15 lari from where I was standing to the doors of Jvari Monastery, including 20-30 minutes at the site to look around. I probably paid too much, but I was so demoralized with my hiking fail that I didn't even think to haggle when he offered his price.
Seriously Mtskheta. It cannot be that hard to mark a trail, put up a few signs, even build one of those metal pedestrian overpasses that are everywhere in Tbilisi so people could cross the highway without taking their lives in their hands. But even as I type this, it occurs to me that the army of taxi drivers would probably hate that idea, as ferrying tourists to and from Jvari is probably a big source of their daily income.
But anyway. The point here is that I (eventually) made it to Jvari. Kaplah? A qualified Kaplah.
Once I was up there, I could definitely see where the path started to get down the mountain. I thought about paying my driver and at least hiking down, but humping it along a long flat stretch of open highway wasn't exactly the hike I had envisioned. Also, snakes. I went back to the car.
Back in Mtskheta, my driver let me off in front of Samtavro Church, so I went to have a quick look. First Georgian church where I got politely and quietly yelled at for trying to take photos inside. Those St. Nino nuns were a tough bunch!
That done, I decided to walk a little bit just outside of town to check out some ruins I had seen on the ride up to Jvari. I told you -- I am a total sucker for ancient things and cannot get enough of ruined towers and fortresses. Hell, I don't even get tired of checking out Georgian churches.
This particular fortress is unfortunately in the process of falling down the mountainside. There were signs everywhere warning "Danger: Landslip Zone." And sadly parts of the outer wall have already landslipped.
It was so cool to be here totally by myself... walking up to the fortress and away from the road, I found myself singing bits of Les Miserables for no particular reason, and just kept right on because there was no one to hear me. Started at the beginning and made it all the way to Fantine's arrest before meeting back up with civilization.
I had no further real plans for Mtskheta, so walked back to the town center and picked a cute little cafe next to the Cathedral. I sat outside at one of the ubiqutous yellow plastic Natakhtari tables, and ordered beer, salati, and Qababi. Food was tasty, I made friends with two strays, randomly met up with two Tbilisi expats I know from Besty's, and wrote in my journal.
One thing I always love about traveling by yourself is that the solitude offers ample time for just... thinking. Thinking, and writing. In September of 2010, I took a solo vacation to Eleuthera, in the Bahamas. I rented a tiny house right on the water, and pretty much spent the entire week swimming, reading, writing, grilling, and sipping on cocktails. It was absolutely, amazingly awesome, and I wrote a ton on this vacation, because for once the focus of the trip was not running around like a crazy person trying to see absolutely as much history as possible in the time allotted. I let my mind and my pen wander, and filled over half the pages in my journal before the week was out. When I went to Rome the year before, even though I was running around like a crazy person, I made sure to take the time at every meal and document everything that I was seeing, feeling, and experiencing, because I knew that I would not want to forget a single second.
Traveling with companions, even if they are your very best friends, you don't really have a chance to do any of that. Sure, I come home and blog about it, but it's hardly the same thing. I've missed recording the impressions of a moment, and while I always hope I'll remember and write it down later, I never do.
So I lingered for a couple extra beers at my cafe table and alternatively spaced out or scrawled, whatever seemed right at the time.
As I was finishing up, the restaurant's staff offered me a small drinking horn filled with tcha-tcha, "as a present." I love Georgia.
On my way out, I stopped in and checked out Svetitskhoveli again.
I didn't know where the bus station was, so I just walked back out to the main road and waited. Sure enough, a marshutka bound for Tbilisi came along in the next few minutes. I flagged it down and was on my way home.
The first solo trip was neither long nor far, but even so I am extremely pleased with how the adventures of the day played out. No hiking, but as it turns out I would rectify that on Sunday. Which is something for the next post.
Right now I am simply SO grateful that I will be coming back, because the idea of saying goodbye to this country forever -- before I have seen Vardzia, Ushguli, Khevsureti, my 59th acient Georgian church (reconstructed) -- fills me with something that feels a lot like panic. I am ready for a break -- SO ready -- but now more than ever I know I made the right decision to not write this place off forever.
That being said, I'm incredibly unenthused about the idea of facing another Georgian winter. But that's almost half a year away so easy to not think about for a while!
It's hard to believe, but I had been in this country for a solid year and change without ever quite managing to get out and do anything alone. I've been to multiple countries and had more adventures than I ever thought possible, but the only solo traveling I'd managed to get done were the epic plane flights from Tbilisi to Okinawa and back. Before Georgia, going it solo was indisputably my preferred mode of travel, but the fact is that Georgia can be a rather intimidating place to adventure alone, especially if you happen to be both a foreigner and a woman. There is safety in numbers, and it's also just comforting to know that there's an extra brain nearby that speaks your language and is going to be thinking of solutions to problems even as you are doing the same.
But still. Not one solo trip?
A couple of weeks ago I decided that my final Great Act before leaving Georgia for the summer would be a solo trip to Kazbegi for a long weekend. I would locate the marshutka, find and negotiate a guesthouse, hike to Gergeti Church and even a little ways up Mout Kazbek -- all by myself.
And no, this is not a post about that trip, which I have not made yet. Last weekend was the Training Wheels Trip -- a day trip to lovely Mtskheta just outside of Tbilisi.
As I believe I mentioned in a recent post, Tbilisi's Didube marshutka station is freaking insane. For one thing, it's enormous, with at least four semi-connected parking areas for the hundreds of minibuses. I got off the metro and began asking directions for the one going to Mtskheta. Only to be told by not one, but TWO Georgian cab drivers that there was no bus to Mtskheta, only taxis. Oh hey, and he happened to be a taxi driver!! What smashing luck! Would I like to take his taxi to Mtskheta??
I'm proud to say that I made no bones about laughing in these guys' faces. Goddam liars. And after about 10 minutes I did find the right bus. What do you know? There are buses that leave for Mtskheta, one about every 20 minutes as a matter of fact. And they do this all day long.
I'd been to Mtskheta before, in the dead of winter with my host family, but we did not stay very long and mainly just went to Svetitskhoveli Cathedral in the center of town before hitting a restaurant for kinkhali and vodka. I thought the town was extremely pretty and told myself I'd be back once spring finally arrived.
But what I'd really come to do on this particular Saturday was hike up to Jvari Monastery.
The only trouble was, I hadn't been able to find any concrete info or directions as to where to pick up the trail. Online, I could only find advice saying that it was best to hire a car, and I didn't want to do that -- expensive, for one thing -- and also, what's the fun in driving? Although this still makes no sense to me, my four-year out-of-date Bradt guidebook gave detailed instructions on how to get back down the mountain, but then also suggested a car to go up and gave only the barest nod to finding the trail from town. How on earth can you get down a mountain but not up it???
I found the tourist office in town, conveniently located just across from Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. I asked where to pick up the trail. And they said I'd be best off hiring a car. I explained I had no interest in that and intended to walk. Well, okay, she said. I would need to find this footbridge in order to get across the river. Then I would need to cross the highway, and walk alongside it for a time, until I found the path up. The path was not marked, by the way. Oh, and also -- there are snakes.
Terrific.
Nonetheless, I set off to try and find this footbridge. My guidebook gave the world's sketchiest directions that included, and I quote: "Head north past Samtavro Church, turn right around the derelict Univermag shop, right following the tarmac road past the former campsite." And turn left at the cow, Bradt? So I was standing in the sun, sweaty, frustrated and confused, staring at my book and wondering what a derelict Univermag shop might look like, and what freaking direction north is since I didn't exactly have a compass on me, when a nice old guy approached me and asked simply "Jvari?"
Yeah, I hired his taxi. He caught me at a weak moment. 15 lari from where I was standing to the doors of Jvari Monastery, including 20-30 minutes at the site to look around. I probably paid too much, but I was so demoralized with my hiking fail that I didn't even think to haggle when he offered his price.
Seriously Mtskheta. It cannot be that hard to mark a trail, put up a few signs, even build one of those metal pedestrian overpasses that are everywhere in Tbilisi so people could cross the highway without taking their lives in their hands. But even as I type this, it occurs to me that the army of taxi drivers would probably hate that idea, as ferrying tourists to and from Jvari is probably a big source of their daily income.
But anyway. The point here is that I (eventually) made it to Jvari. Kaplah? A qualified Kaplah.
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| View from Jvari, Mtskheta's red roofs to the right. |
 |
| Inside the church |
Once I was up there, I could definitely see where the path started to get down the mountain. I thought about paying my driver and at least hiking down, but humping it along a long flat stretch of open highway wasn't exactly the hike I had envisioned. Also, snakes. I went back to the car.
Back in Mtskheta, my driver let me off in front of Samtavro Church, so I went to have a quick look. First Georgian church where I got politely and quietly yelled at for trying to take photos inside. Those St. Nino nuns were a tough bunch!
 |
| Samtavro |
 |
| Awesome, right? |
It was so cool to be here totally by myself... walking up to the fortress and away from the road, I found myself singing bits of Les Miserables for no particular reason, and just kept right on because there was no one to hear me. Started at the beginning and made it all the way to Fantine's arrest before meeting back up with civilization.
I had no further real plans for Mtskheta, so walked back to the town center and picked a cute little cafe next to the Cathedral. I sat outside at one of the ubiqutous yellow plastic Natakhtari tables, and ordered beer, salati, and Qababi. Food was tasty, I made friends with two strays, randomly met up with two Tbilisi expats I know from Besty's, and wrote in my journal.
One thing I always love about traveling by yourself is that the solitude offers ample time for just... thinking. Thinking, and writing. In September of 2010, I took a solo vacation to Eleuthera, in the Bahamas. I rented a tiny house right on the water, and pretty much spent the entire week swimming, reading, writing, grilling, and sipping on cocktails. It was absolutely, amazingly awesome, and I wrote a ton on this vacation, because for once the focus of the trip was not running around like a crazy person trying to see absolutely as much history as possible in the time allotted. I let my mind and my pen wander, and filled over half the pages in my journal before the week was out. When I went to Rome the year before, even though I was running around like a crazy person, I made sure to take the time at every meal and document everything that I was seeing, feeling, and experiencing, because I knew that I would not want to forget a single second.
Traveling with companions, even if they are your very best friends, you don't really have a chance to do any of that. Sure, I come home and blog about it, but it's hardly the same thing. I've missed recording the impressions of a moment, and while I always hope I'll remember and write it down later, I never do.
So I lingered for a couple extra beers at my cafe table and alternatively spaced out or scrawled, whatever seemed right at the time.
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| My view during lunch. |
On my way out, I stopped in and checked out Svetitskhoveli again.
The first solo trip was neither long nor far, but even so I am extremely pleased with how the adventures of the day played out. No hiking, but as it turns out I would rectify that on Sunday. Which is something for the next post.
Man, tough life. Awesome Mary!!!
ReplyDeleteLovely going down the mountain so easily~
ReplyDelete