Heading out on a Friday morning marshutka (I decided, at Paata’s suggestion, to take Friday as well), I made my way first to Tbilisi. Five hours later I arrived at the train station, from whence I took the metro into the city center. The Tbilisi metro shares certain characteristics with those in several formerly Soviet cities, namely incredibly deep stations reached by means of almost dizzyingly long and steep escalators, and I was instantly reminded of my time in Moscow. I surfaced on Rustaveli Avenue, which runs through the heart of the city and is home to, among other notable sites, the Tbilisi Opera House, Rustaveli Theater, and the Parliament building. The Avenue comes to an end at Tavisuplebis Moedani (Freedom Square, dominated by a huge column topped by a gold statue of St. George slaying the dragon), from which point I ventured off into a maze of streets in one of the oldest parts of the city.
After some pleasurable wandering I made my way to the synagogue, following directions I had gotten from the local Chabad rabbi over the phone (yes, they really are everywhere). I arrived just in time for L’cha Dodi and the end of the Kabbalat Shabbat service, which was followed by Friday night Ma’ariv. Most of the service was chanted very quickly by the cantor, but I was able to follow along with friendly pointers from my neighbors in the pews. I was surprised at how many people were there—at least eighty, by my estimate—and I would have liked to learn more about this community, but people left pretty quickly after the service. The Chabad rabbi, Meir, had invited me to his house for dinner along with a couple of other Israeli guests, and so I spent the rest of the evening surrounded by people speaking Hebrew (a change from the usual Georgian and Megrelian, but no more understandable from my point of view). I wasn’t very hungry, having eaten a large helping of khach’apuri (cheese bread) not long before, but I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see a bowl of matzo-ball soup. Indeed, one of the best aspects of the whole weekend was the opportunity to eat different foods from the ones we have all the time at home in my host family.
I was hosted for the night by Nino, the amazing woman who ran our orientation in Kutaisi, and who still looks out for all of us like a mother hen despite the fact that she no longer works for the program. The next day, after a wonderfully leisurely morning that included the best shower I’ve had since I left the US, I set out again to explore more of the city. This time my wanderings took me to Sameba, a huge and impressive new church across the river from the old part of the city, and then up to Narikala, a hilltop fortress with another beautiful, old church. After a quick cup of tea back at Nino’s, I then took an evening marshutka to Sighnaghi, about an hour and a half east of the capital. There I met up with Ilaria and Seraphim, friends through both Village Harmony and Wesleyan, who are living there for the year (Ilaria is teaching English like I am).
Sunday morning we went to mass at the local church where Ilaria, along with several members of Zedashe (a great choir based in Sighnaghi), provided the chanting for the service. This was followed by an American style brunch of scrambled eggs and bacon, thoroughly relished by all. In the afternoon we stopped in to see several friends and neighbors, then took a walk to the nearby Bodbe Monastery, where St. Nino is buried. We even found time to sing some Shape-Note songs, something I’ve been missing while I’ve been here. On Monday I went to one of Ilaria’s classes at school, and went for a nice, long walk in the afternoon. Then, having discovered that there were no less than four other English teaching volunteers also visiting Sighnaghi, I had dinner with them, catching up on how they’d been faring since I last saw them at the end of our orientation.
I went for yet another walk the next morning, before getting on a marshutka back to Tbilisi. There, after looking in at another old church, I made my way unhurriedly along the riverside quay to the train station, where I boarded a marshutka that took me home. My feet, as you may be able to guess, were tired, but my mind and my camera were full, and I had mixed feelings as I rode back westward. I enjoy living in Tsaishi most of the time, but this little foray into the outside world reminded me just how isolated I am here. I feel even more confident now that I made the right decision to leave at the end of the semester, which is rapidly approaching. That said, I think that having gotten away for a few days will allow me to be more at peace spending the next few weeks back here. I needed a reminder that things like warm bathrooms, water pressure, spring mattresses, and vegetables do actually exist, and will all be waiting for me when I’m done.
P.S. As if to illustrate what I wrote before, dinner last night (Friday) hit what may be an all-time low. The plan was to have the ubiquitous pasta “kashi” (porridge), pasta served in its own cooking water with milk and sugar mixed in. I had a hard time with this dish initially, but over time I’ve gotten used to it. Last night, however, we realized too late that we were out of sugar. I suggested draining the pasta, forgetting about the milky broth, and eating it with some combination of butter/salt/cheese/tomato sauce, all of which we had. This idea proved to be too foreign, however, and we sweetened the concoction with a cornel preserve, which I have tried and failed to acquire a taste for, and which was also, under the circumstances, the only enhancement available for both the bread and the tea that rounded out our meal. C’est la vie!
