The Black Sea, Part 4: Batumi

Batumi, Georgia. Lada and ludi.

I wasn't all that excited about going to Batumi. It was more of an "I should go there since I'm in Georgia" kind of thing. I had the impression it was the kind of touristy place big on nightclubs and Las Vegas-y kitsch. Not generally my preference.

But since we were going to Ureki, and then decided to hit Kobuleti, Sandy and I thought, why not? Sandy had already been and it wasn't her favorite place, but she was kind enough to accompany me.

Well, damn. I was pleasantly surprised at Batumi.

Batumi, Georgia - a plaza

Yeah, yeah, there was an arid beachside boardwalk, some so-so fountains, an odd, not-very-attractive tower sort of thing with a ball on top, and polished plazas a little too much like what one finds at upscale, American shopping gallerias. The statue with Medea holding up the golden fleece as if it were a jacket left behind by one of the kids.

Batumi ,Georgia - Medea and Golden Fleece

But I loved the pretty side streets. The architecture reminded me quite a lot of New Orleans' French Quarter, actually, with wide and deep second-story verandas, mixed in with a Playa del Carmen pastel palette.

Batumi, Georgia.

Batumi, Georgia.

Batumi, Georgia.

The botanical garden was a large sanctuary of natural shade, greenery, and vivid flowers.

Batumi, Georgia.

When we finished purchasing Batumi-Tbilisi tickets at the train station, we boarded a marshrutka standing by. Didn't know where it was going other than to somewhere in Batumi.

In fact, we had the good luck to pass through the back-end of Batumi, where we saw an intimidating array of oil or gas storage silos, the large local bazaar, and a school no different from what we had in Rustavi and Gori. And lo, we saw lots of bustle around the Cathedral of the Mother of God, a large church that would look at home in, say, Transylvania at night with trembling thunder and lightning strikes that illuminated the dark statue of Mary.  Beautiful, but in an eerie way.

Cathedral of the Mother of God. Batumi, Georgia.

Cathedral of the Mother of God. Batumi, Georgia.

It was the orthodox Palm Sunday, the Bazoba Sunday, as it's called here. Many vendors selling the leafed twigs from a certain shrub. Vendors selling natural dyes for the Orthodox Easter eggs. One dye source is the traditional one from the sap of a specific shrub. Another source is, I think, beet and other things that are soaked into sawdust. For both, one boils the eggs in the water with these twigs or sawdust.

Egg dyeing. Batumi, Georgia. Outside the Cathedral of the Mother of God.

The traditional orthodox Easter egg is a burgundy red. Looks like a color from the richest ancient tapestry.

Batumi, Georgia. Orthodox Palm Sunday (Bazoba), Cathedral of the Mother of God.

We looked inside the church.

 And looked outside.

 

We walked toward the beach and entered the botanical garden. Nice. We sat on a bench for quite a long while and people-watched and enjoyed the coolness of the shade, and when that got too chilly, moved over to a sunny spot and enjoyed the warmth of the sun. A bride and groom came through with their entourage and had photos taken.

Batumi, Georgia.

Getting kinda hungry now, so we made our way toward a Ukrainian restaurant Sandy had visited when she was here before. She ordered a stew sort of dish and was dismayed to see it covered in beloved Georgian mayonnaise. I ordered the fish recommended to me by a Georgian, only to learn it wasn't available at an affordable price, so I went with the red mullet and a boiled potato.

Batumi, Georgia.

Huh. Nely has served me this before and hers was just as good if not better.

We nipped next over to a little coffee shop called the Press Cafe. Signage referring to the WC as the "yellow press" warranted only a weak smile.

Batumi, Georgia. Press Cafe.

We commenced to more Batumi wandering.




I was in search of something, but damned if I can remember what it was. Something to do with a knife .... anyway, we trotted back over to the proles' neck of the woods, a ways from the tourist section. Sandy took a rest with our bags on a store stoop while I went to visit each little shop. I found a Goodwill store (read: Georgian Walmart) and invested some time of my life I'll never get back again, all for naught. The Goodwills here have a lot of stuff, but never seem to have what I'm looking for.

But I did see these sights:

Mercury Hotel, Batumi, Georgia.

Fish eyes, Batumi, Georgia.

Tobacco, Batumi, Georgia.

We'd had a good day. 

At about 10:00 p.m., we went to the train station for our overnight trip back to Tbilisi.

This was going to be fun.

The Black Sea, Part 3: Road to Batumi

Batumi, Georgia

Sandy and I climbed aboard the marshrutka in Kobuleti for the final leg of our little Black Sea resort tour.

I took this video en route. Mind the cows.

As is our tradition, we overshot the train station (where we wanted to buy our overnight return tickets before exploring the city), so had to backtrack. Unfortunately, there are no storage lockers for baggage at the train station, so we had to lug our packs all around town.

We chose to buy first class tickets, meaning we went for a two-person sleeper at 40 lari each (~ $24) instead of a four-person sleeper at 23 lari each (~ $14). Ouch, that hurt.

Ok, so that settled, off we went to poke around Batumi! It was a little after noon and we had til 10:00 p.m. to check it out.

The Black Sea, Part 2: Kobuleti

Kobuleti sunset. Georgia. 

Easy, pleasant marshrutka ride from Ureki to Kobuleti. As we entered Kobuleti, I admired the wooded ribbon that separated the main road from the beach. Shade. I like it.

Kobuleti, Georgia.

As is often the case, we got off the marshrutka past the point where we should have. We got off in the town center, which is not by the beach. So while we considered our next steps, as in "We're in Kobuleti, now what," we each had an ice cream bar. Georgians love ice cream and they've got good stuff.

We tried to find a bench on which to sit while we ate our ice cream while looking at the snow-topped mountains, but we were unsuccessful, so we settled for the concrete lip of a storefront. Eventually, we got up, crossed the street, flagged down a marshrutka, and got off at the beachy side of town.

Kobuleti, Georgia. View from hotel.

Walked over by the water, took a look at a hotel room, took a pass at the price, walked to the next hotel, looked at the room, and sealed the deal at 50 lari for a two-room suite with a very large balcony overlooking the Black Sea.

Kobuleti, Georgia. View from hotel.

It was relaxing to sit on the balcony and contemplate ... nothing. No visual clutter to stop the eye. Just the blank slate of the sea.

Kobuleti, Georgia. View from hotel.

We went for a walk around town. Picked up some dinner-picnic items to eat on the balcony.

Saw a spectacular sunset. A swollen red sun.

Kobuleti, Georgia. Sunset.

An uneventful sleep. Got up the next morning, had dinner leftovers and coffee and tea out on the balcony. More enjoyment of nothingness.

Presently, we gathered our things, went out to the main street, and a road construction worker helped us get a marshrutka to Batumi. At the local price.

The Black Sea, Part 1: Ureki

Ureki, Georgia. Black Sea.

A three-day weekend! Sandy and I made plans to go to the Black Sea.

First up, Ureki. This village is known for its black sand, which allegedly has magnetic properties. In fact, the village's other name is Magnetiti. Georgians bring their children here to promote healthy bones. The elderly believe the sand is helpful for their arthritis.

A TLG colleague who's based in Ureki laid out our options to get from Tbilisi to Ureki. We chose to take the train from Tbilisi to Poti, then a marshrutka from Poti to Ureki. Sandy bought the rail tickets the day before we left; 15 lari for each of us.

Train from Tbilisi to Poti, Georgia.

Five-hour trip; not bad. We'd brought a picnic breakfast and lunch: Georgian sausage, sulguni cheese, carrot sticks, orange slices, fresh bread, and the ubiquitous bag o' snacking bruschetta. I also brought a thermos of coffee.

Decent WC on train. Tbilisi to Poti, Georgia.

There were two WCs in our car. One was better than the other. It wasn't bad at all. The other, when I got a glimpse of it, was a little grim.

Poti, Georgia.

We arrived in Poti without any mishap other than to wonder where to find a marshrutka. But some helpful police set us in the right direction.

WC at Wissol gas station outside Ureki, Georgia

About half an hour later - not even that, really - we got off the marshrutka (cost = 1.5 lari, but this likely inflated for our benefit) at a clearing in the road. We'd gone past the entrance to Ureki awhile back, so we'd need to walk back a little ways. Fortunately, we got off in front of a Wissol gas station, which had a cheery apple-green WC. And two cheery Wissol employees who smiled and waved and asked where we were headed.






After taking care of business, we crossed the street and began walking to Ureki on the narrow road that paralleled the arterial road. To our right, between the two roads, we heard extremely loud squawking and chirping and even a third sound. What could they be? Ducks and small birds and ...... they were frogs. Sandy and I picked our way through a treacherous bit of grass and mud - that suck-your-shoes-off kind of mud - to get to the shallow, seasonal ponds, covered with water plants and agog with frogs on the make.

It was the coolest thing.

We continued our walk and saw on our left a pretty tree with vermilion buds. A man across the lane, gardening, came over and told us in basic English that the buds would soon open. He mentioned our TLG colleague's name (the one who helped us plan our transport here), saying he was a "good boy" (kargi bichi). Then he went to another tree with large red blooms and cut us a large bouquet.

We walked and walked and walked.

Presently, we arrived at the beach of black sand. I am sad to report it was filled with the litter of past visitors, but I'm assuming this will be picked up before the tourist season begins. Most of the markets and cafe were still closed for the winter.
 

Ureki, Georgia.

There was a very pretty wooded lane.

Ureki, Georgia.

 There were many large guesthouses.














We took of our shoes and walked in the Black Sea. It was deliciously cold. It felt so good. We gathered black sand in plastic bags to take home with us. They were heavy.

So. Now on to Kobuleti. We flagged down what we thought was a marshrutka, only to discover it was a private vehicle. Never mind. The driver took us back up to the Wissol gas station, where our friendly buddies there greeted us with smiles. In short order, we picked up a real marshrutka to Kobuleti. Our Wissol guys waved and blew us a kiss goodbye.