Tblisi, Georgia

We got up the following day pretty excited to explore this city. The rain could have been a disappointment, but it didn't stop us for plowing ahead. After a great Georgian breakfast, we walked toward Old Town. We hadn't thought to get a map, but I had the Lonely Planet tour book, plus a list of "if you had one day in Tblisi" landmarks from a teaching friend of mine in Nebraska who just recently had spent a chunk of time in this area.

Exploring the city, we found an old Armenian church to begin our touring with a date engraved on the outside stone of 1794. Georgian and Armenian Christian churches are different in liturgy,  doctrine, and in worship styles, but to western Protestant eyes, it seems pretty much nuance. After that we saw a carpet shop we HAD to go in, though the owner seemed more interested in the soap opera blaring from his TV.

We continued on and found another church, though this was Georgian Orthodox, where one of the robed priests was ringing the bell alerting everyone the morning service was about to begin. So...we joined them! Though we don't know for sure, but we assumed this was most likely one of a couple daily services that take place here. The priests are all robed and sealed off from the rest of the people (probably 10) who stood and crossed themselves throughout the time we were there. Margaret respectfully covered her head as all the other women in the service had done. The church as small, but full of frescoes and paintings that were mostly fronted with hanging candles. The symbolism of the Georgian churches were in many respects similar to those in Armenia, but I noticed difference in the colors, which were brighter and bolder.

Continuing up a main street, we saw all the church shops that sold icons, statues, robes and all the peripheral items related to the Georgian orthodox traditions. It's very much a church-centered community--at least in this part of town, Old Town. We saw an Azerbaijani cafe where we rested in a great little outdoor area and ordered drinks and some food.

After our rest, off we went to several other chuches one of which was having another service we attended, and spent a 20 minutes or so looking at more Armenian and Georgian carpets (the Azerbaijan carpet on the wall, though was my favorite!). After that, we just started walking up hill, thinking that would take us to the big statue of Mother Georgia and the fortress. We found ourselves a bit off the beaten track, had no map, but felt we were heading in the right direction--so we just continued on.

Margaret and I seemed to be on the same page in our directional decisions because after talking to a couple other travelers from Holland and Malaysia, we finally came to the base of the big aluminum statue Kartlis Deda (Mother Georgia) which is the symbol of Georgian freedom. It's 20 meters tall and can be viewed from all over the city. Built in 1958 according to Wikipedia, it was erected during the 1500 year anniversary of the founding of the city of Tblisi (compare that to Portland's 150 year history!).

We continued on another kilometer only to run right into the Narikala Fortress, the other iconic landmark in Tblisi we saw from the restaurant the night before. The gondola was right next to the fortress and so we paid the 2 GELs ($1.20) to ride it down to across the river near to where we started in Old Town.

We got our bearings, walked back across the river and headed toward another part of town we hadn't explored. We found another old church, gave it a good once over, then headed toward an area where it looked like mostly a flower market. We were trying to find a place to rest and get some food, but it seemed a little sketchy, so we continued on back to Old Town, found a schwarma shop run by Azerbaijanis and enjoyed a schwarma, the second of our stay in the area, and a Georgian beer. We kept track of our time since we needed to be back at the hotel by 5:30 to catch our taxi back to the border. We knew we had time for one more spot, so we consulted or list and knew the Holy Trinity church, the golden topped and elevated church we saw from Mother Georgia would be our last stop before heading back to D'segh.

The rain again began to pour so en route to Holy Trinity we took shelter at an Art Gallery and then a Souvenir shop near the river. We figured we'd need to hire a cab to do this in time. So we did and had the hardest time trying to show our cab driver where to go. I realized I had a photo of Holy Trinity in my camera so quickly shuffled through them and gave him the camera to look through and zoomed in on the church. It worked, and though he way over charged for the short ride to Holy Trinity, it was better than walking in the rain!!

Constructed over a ten year period in the 90's the Holy Trinity church or Semeba is the the centerpiece for the Georgian Orthodox faithful. The grounds are breathtaking--and reminiscent of the Taj Mahal upon entering the front gates. We wandered up the steps, taking pictures all along the way.

We found the front entrance and proceeded into a very light colored decor and realized a service was taking place. So we watched as the priest read the liturgy, augmented with the head-covered women singing their vespers right on cue. It echoed so beautifully within the high ceilings of the church.

As the service ended, I did notice a bit of an incident. Apparently, the priest provides a blessing to all attendees, and as parishioners lined up to receive this blessing (a chalk-like pencil cross on the forehead and to kiss the hand of the priest), one woman in particular at the front was banished to the end of the line by the priest. In fact, when her turn came up again to be blessed, the priest again refused to bless her. He picked up the large Bible and started heading to the back of the church as this woman desperately followed with pleading hands in the air. Without a glance back at her, the priest continued to the back area. Her face was sobbing as she was comforted by those standing near her. You just wonder the issue that would cause such rejection.

After viewing many of the paintings and icons, we hurried back to the front of the grounds of the church, caught our taxi back to the hotel. Our taxi back to the border was ready and off we went toward the Armenian border without issue (and half of what it cost to get us there!!).

Getting to Tblisi, Georgia - Part 3

Flustered, and apparently knowing he really had no choice, our driver disgustedly returned to the taxi. Whether it's a cultural thing, laziness, or part of his ploy the driver had left the car radio on the whole time we had been sitting there. So when he jumped back into the car, turned the engine over, the car refused to start. At that point, we had no choice as to go with the other taxi driver to get to our hotel. We got out with our backpacks, climbed into the new taxi, and the whole 15 minute ride to the Old Tblisi hotel the two taxi drivers continued their what seemed like elevated conversation. I have to think they were talking either about these stubborn passengers, or how the new taxi driver would get paid.

When we arrived at the hotel, Margaret and I popped out, I put the 25,000 drams (~$60) into his hand and told him we'd make other arrangements for our return trip to the border tomorrow evening. Though I'm sure he didn't understand every word, he got the gist of it--and as Margaret and I walked into the hotel, my only pleasure was the look on this face as we left!

Settling in, we now turned our attention to our hunger and desire to put the whole taxi debacle behind us. We did ask the hotel to arrange for a return taxi to the border scheduled for 30 minutes prior to when we were to have met the Armenian driver!

The hotel suggested a great dinner spot (I'll figure out the name later--didn't get a card) within walking distance that served traditional Georgian food, so we headed there, got our seats on the back balcony overlooking the Mtkavari River (also referred to as the Kura River) and the lit up Narikala Fortress. It was the unexpected surprise of the evening after all we went through to be finally enjoying the culture and gorgeous views of Tblisi! The food was all traditionally Georgian, and the friendly Russian girl sitting near us with her family helped us order, took our picture and helped us relax. The food was awesome. We started with the "pastry" that was on the menu, which is casually called Georgian cheese Pizza, but with a strong flavor, then had the "kachpuri", which is a type of Georgian spice (lots of tarragon) they put in many things. We had it with mushrooms and veal and it was served in earthen bowls, which is very much Georgian. It was so good, the taste stayed with me through the next day! The Georgian beer was perfect as we close down the restaurant at around midnight ready to get up and see Tblisi the next morning!

Getting to Tblisi, Georgia - Part 2

My friend who teaches teachers the craft of writing talks about the strategy of "exploding the moment" or "writing small" when trying to make a point of a climactic part of a story. My feeble attempt to create this in my last post was intentional, and coupled with the fact that I wrote it after midnight in D'segh after a long, busy, but exciting day.

...like I was saying (with apologies to Sir Ken Robinson), we arrived just outside of Tblisi with our Georgian-side, though Armenian taxi driver with whom we had no connection in language and location. We were at his mercy to get Margaret and I safely to the Old Tblisi Hotel. After he pulled over to chat with other taxi drivers, we just stayed in the car assuming he was calling the hotel for directions, or consulting those who better knew the lay of the land in Tblisi. After ten minutes, we started to get restless, after 20, I decided to become actively involved. Unfolding out of our small sedan, I just stood to the side of our taxi driver to let him know I was there, but yet refraining from intervening--knowing I couldn't communicate anyway, but hoping my presence (and size--I'm really tall in this country!) would help the process along.

As I may have mentioned in an earlier post, Armenian men are famous for asking for directions so I assumed this was what was happening; just taking longer than usual due to a different country, possible language barrier and other issues. But when I sensed things were not getting resolved, I tried to graciously intervene. Kindly, but with my typical long-armed American sign language, I asked what was going on. Our driver had been speaking emphatically with another taxi driver in what looked like a heated conversation (though it may have been natural, I'll never know), and when I spoke to our driver, he started pointing to this other taxi driver as if we were suppose to get into his taxi. I was told the fee our driver was charging was excessive to begin with, but I was not about to pay another taxi driver for the services we hired our driver for from the border. For the first time, I felt I was in the middle of an Armenian conversation, but clearly now with an elevated ire. With finger-pointing well above the shoulders, we contined to argue. I finally gave up and returned to the taxi with Margaret and waited.

I'll finish this entry soon! Gotta get to sleep beforemwemfly home tomorrow!

Getting to Tblisi, Georgia - Part 1

Margaret and I have just returned from our whirlwind 20-hour trip to Tblisi, the Georgian capital city. After a busy day of Dad and Margaret clowning in our little village and again in the larger town just south of us, Vanadzor, our gracious Peace Corps host, Mary, had arranged a driver to take us to the border of Georgia, then the driver had arranged for us to meet up with another driver who would take us on to Tblisi. As can happen when juggling languages, border crossings, visas, passports and expectations, things can go awry at times. Our wonderful Armenian driver, Narek (who is a PE teacher in a neighboring village) drove us through the stunningly beautiful jagged mountain passes of northern Armenia. The views were breathtaking, and if we had time enough we would have stopped at the two UNESCO cathedral/monastery sites that were along the way. We saw the signs and at least knew they were prominent and unique places in this part of the world.

One thing in particular we noticed throughout all the small towns and villages on this trip north, were the huge, abandoned buildings that could have been energy production facilities or factories of some kind.  Mary had told us that after the Soviets left 20 years and these facilities became privatized, the new owners would then sell off all the current equipment and then just leave. Many of these buildings looked like the manager locked the door 20 years ago and never returned. In many cases, cranes that were helping assemble the building, were left--and they've since rusted over. We've seen that all over Armenia, but it was even more noticeable heading north. And the contrast of the sheer natural beauty is a pure contradiction. It leaves you thinking that with some foreign investment, this could be a thriving place--much like we were to see in Tblisi. After some harrowing winding turns in these narrow mountain roads--partially on gravel, we arrived at the border. We met the new driver on the Armenia side of the border who had apparently had multiple re-entry visas, met us and had a long conversation with Narek. We began to get concerned when this conversation turned lengthy. Finally resolved, we got our passports checked and climbed into this new drivers' car, not really knowing his understanding of what and where we wanted to go in Tblisi. Coming from a truly developing country, we were anxious to see what Georgia would present us.

We passed through the border crossing and immediately noticed a difference in the pristine nature of the crossing itself. As we drove away, the roads were in much better condition, complete with paved sidewalks in the small towns we passed through. The drive from the border to Tblisi was a little more than an hour, and as approached the outskirts of Tblisi, that's when trouble started....

Dad's quote

Dads quote for today:
Youth at work are bringing God's own glory to the earth from Heaven above.
Here to set aflame the story, one in truth and one in love.

From the Westminster Youth Fellowship Hymn from the 1940s

D'segh

The small village of D'segh is in the Armenian highlands sits on the top of a bluff that overlooks what is probably a 1,000 foot drop off into a beautifully winding mountain river and Armenia railway. The village itself has a population of around 2,600 and is a collection of small homes, shanty-type for many of the locals. The streets are all unpaved and rocky, so walking through it with Dad is slow and careful. Other than one fall in Yerevan, Dad has managed the infamous (and much warned about) uneven sidewalks and stairs of Armenia.

D'segh also boasts a huge statue of the Armenia poet, playwrite and intellectual, H. Tumanyan, whose museum in Yerevan we visited and really enjoyed. This man's legacy is the pride of this small village--knowing his impact on the whole of the country.

Our day yesterday started with an event Mary, our host, organized a clean up party the city square where this last year a grant helped build a small fountain, some paving stones and benches. This area has become a favorite hang out spot for the D'segh men--many of whom don't work, though the hope is this area could become a family park or play area for the children, too. Unemployment for men in this village is 95%. Thus, the area becomes littered with cigarette butts and other garbage that needs to be cleaned up regularly. Those who cleaned up were the children of the village--nearly 20 of them ranging from all ages, who wore their "Green Camp" tee shirts, donned aprons and gloves and worked hard in the hot morning sun picking up trash. The clean up attracted even more of the children who joined in later. Mary's hope is that this will instill a new paradigm in this village. One that values the beauty of the area, honors the young and has hope for the future. The mayor of the village came to show and share his support; and it's worth noting this mayor is a rare find in Armenia. Corruption abounds in the political scene in Armenia, and this mayor represents a positive force for honesty and truth in Armenian politics. Mary has said the reason she is signed up for another year here is directly because of this man. Pretty cool story.

After the clean up, we were able to visit the local Cultural Center to enjoy coffee and sweets at mid-day, then watched some of the local children, who were practicing a traditional Armenian dance. "Cute" does not do it justice.

After our coffee and sweets, we walked to one end of the village to see the spectacular views of the chasm below us--which did not disappoint. The rest of the afternoon we spent recovering and resting back at Mary's home.

Later that night we had another GREAT encounter with the locals of the village, with whom Mary has worked closely. We were served, Cafe-style, our three course Armenian dinner with fresh EVERYTHING! Tomatoes and cucumbers are a staple, along with potatoes and coffee (very strong--Turkish style) all day long. This family is very special to Mary and they loved serving their new American friends. In a traditional Armenian family, the family extends three generations often, with the youngest son to remain home to help the parents into the late stages of their lives. In this family, the father's mother and sister live with the rest of the family which includes five girls in addition to the parents. Though we briefly met the father, he was out working on his truck for most of the evening. The small setting of their living room served as our seating area and they constantly brought food to the table with smiles, giggles--and all were presented beautifully! Blake, you would have loved it!

We had heard the sister-in-law, Flora, was quite a musician and so we had planned that after dinner we'd break out the instruments and further enjoy the evening with song and dance (really!). Flora dug out her accordian and began to play the most soulful Armenian songs with all the passion and pride of this very rich and proud, but of- occupied and beaten down nation. She finally encouraged me to break out Margaret's guitar that she brought for just this kind of occasion. We played several songs I used to play in my classroom while Flora thumped her drum and accompanied Margaret and I on her accordian. A tremendous cultural bridge was crossed!

Heading to Georgia with Margaret tonight after two clowning performances today. More on that later.

Chapter 2 - Heading Toward D'segh

Like a good book, the context, setting, and story line shifts as we move into Chapter 2 of our Armenian Adventure. Assuming traveling north to the village of D'segh where Mary lives and works would be uneventful would be to assume incorrectly! Since internet access is limited in this lush mountainous region of northern Armenia, I'll share briefly now, then delve more deeply later.

We spent Saturday (yesterday, which seems like forever!) morning arising in Yerevan and excited for the Saturday market we had heard so much about. Once we found the market, it did not disappoint. After 2-3 hours of slowly winding through the aisles of beautiful carpets which captivated my attention for much of the first hour, we made our way toward the other rows of sellers with jewelry, handiwork of all kinds. We stopped and chatted, loved seeing the variety of wares from silver pomegranate necklaces to tablecloths, painted works, musical instruments and many other items. After dragging down around this market for two hours, we recognized our need to get back to the hotel and check out, and arrange our cab that would take us on our 2-1/2 hour trip north to D'segh. Delay happens in all cultures due to a variety of reasons, and of course, it happened to us as we checked out of our hotel and hailed our cab. Nearly three hours later we were on the road in a non-air conditioned cab with a driver who really didn't understand where we wanted to go, and seemed to be struggling to make his propane-powered cab make it up the long and lengthy hills of Armenia. We headed out to the country-side in the tree-less hills where the grasses never grow very high, and the rocky countryside shows remnant of ancient glaciers. Our Skoda cab (Czech made) struggled to make it up one hill and suddenly the driver pulled over complaining of something on his side of the car. He kept pointing down and sure enough, had a flat tire. So in the middle of the Armenian boonies,we all pile out, empty out all the luggage we had so carefully and strategically packed and watch our embarrassed driver pull out the spare which looked more damaged than the flat tire! He got it on quickly and away we went 20 minutes later.

As we wound our way along the freeway, the preliminary stop we had planned at one of the oldest Christian church sites got lost in translation, and when we really couldn't find ourselves on our map, both Margaret and I realized the route we were taking was not the direct one--in fact if we figured it correctly, would double our distance to D'segh. We confirmed our destination with driver as best we could, who quickly called his boss (or someone) who helped guide him. But clearly he needed more help since for the next four hours, we stopped more than ten times to ask for directions. We learned later that this is customary in Armenia for men--something you wouldn't see in the US!

Finally, at around 7:30 PM, we arrived in D'segh, set high in the mountains with an unbelievable gorge view of trees, cliffs and everything green! We've seen so much already, and would see even more tomorrow. Can't wait!

Dad's quote of the day:
"Vistas of wonderment, flat tires and propane gas running taxi providing opportunities of grace, and gratitude for the giftings of God."