Neighbors to Nino and her sisters in Gurjaani:
Getting home:
Hot as hell. Waited for 1.5 hours for marshtutka that never came. Waited for the 2nd marshtutka, which turned out to be full. Finally took local taxi into center of Gurjaani to catch attention of more marshtutkas on a more major thoroughfare. Took one into Tbilisi, then took another to Rustavi. Bottom line: took more than 4 hours to negotiate a 1.5-hour drive. I was not my best self during this process. I felt that at a certain point, one's time and comfort have more value than the money saved on marshtutkas that may or may not come and which may or may not have empty seats and which may or may not get you to the desired destination by the most direct route --- in 100-degree heat. However, I was unable to bring to fruition my fervent offer(s) to pay for a taxi to take us to Rustavi.
I think some wild plums may have actually fermented during the journey home.
It did not cheer up my hostess when her bag of tomatoes tipped over in our second marshtutka, with tomatoes rolling across the floor, beneath people's feet, all the way up to the driver's area. Fellow passengers did their best to pick up the red escapees and hand them back to her. For me, it actually provided a little bit of welcome levity to an otherwise arduous trip. Kind of like the universe telling me to lighten up, for God's sake.
When we arrived home, I was so happy to see a western toilet, to take a cold shower, and to sleep beneath an open window.
Sunday's "building behind me:"
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| Giorgi |
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| Ketel |
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| Ketel and husband Zandro |
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| Manana #2 |
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| Manana #2 |
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| Manana #2 |
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| Zandro |
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| Lili |
Getting home:
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| Baggage. Awaiting marshtutka. Hot. Sun beating down. |
Hot as hell. Waited for 1.5 hours for marshtutka that never came. Waited for the 2nd marshtutka, which turned out to be full. Finally took local taxi into center of Gurjaani to catch attention of more marshtutkas on a more major thoroughfare. Took one into Tbilisi, then took another to Rustavi. Bottom line: took more than 4 hours to negotiate a 1.5-hour drive. I was not my best self during this process. I felt that at a certain point, one's time and comfort have more value than the money saved on marshtutkas that may or may not come and which may or may not have empty seats and which may or may not get you to the desired destination by the most direct route --- in 100-degree heat. However, I was unable to bring to fruition my fervent offer(s) to pay for a taxi to take us to Rustavi.
I think some wild plums may have actually fermented during the journey home.
It did not cheer up my hostess when her bag of tomatoes tipped over in our second marshtutka, with tomatoes rolling across the floor, beneath people's feet, all the way up to the driver's area. Fellow passengers did their best to pick up the red escapees and hand them back to her. For me, it actually provided a little bit of welcome levity to an otherwise arduous trip. Kind of like the universe telling me to lighten up, for God's sake.
When we arrived home, I was so happy to see a western toilet, to take a cold shower, and to sleep beneath an open window.
Sunday's "building behind me:"
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| Building Behind Me 073111 |
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