Nothing There Tour #2: Gardabani, Part 2: Men in Black

This is part 2 of a long-overdue There's Nothing There Tour report. I was in Gardabani in spring 2012. Part 1 is here. 

Men in black and blue, Gardabani, Georgia

Seeing Georgians in black was nothing new, especially in the winter, when it's the preferred color of dress for both men and women.

But on this Novrus Bayrami celebration in Gardabani, it was so concentrated among the men and boys as to be remarkable.

There was live music, with a cool mix of traditional pop-ballad and hiphop.

I listened to the music, then continued to wander among the booths.

I maintained periodic phone contact with TLG colleague, Lauren, who was en route with Eva and Monica to join me in Gardabani for the festival.

Traditional cookware, Gardabani, Georgia

At various booths where I stopped, I enjoyed a bit of wine or chacha, so I began to have a pleasant little buzz.

The Simpsons in Gardabani, Georgia

At a certain point, I had to find a toilet. The city hall was next door to the park, and I was directed to the public loo inside the building. Yes, incredibly, this was it:

City hall toilet, Gardabani, Georgia

People! It does not require much effort or money to clean a toilet! And this is for your constituents! Have some respect. Jeez. It was almost as bad as the toilet situation I encountered in Ethiopia, between Harar and Nazret, only that latrine hellhole was darker and wetter.

Getting back to the festival .... the official musical line-up ended, and now the boys put on an impromptu dance showdown.

Now, look at this first video. It's only 27 seconds long. I want you to note the tall guy in the back. He's wearing a stocking cap with FBI on the front. His name is Romeo, but I didn't find that out til later. Foreshadowing.

  
Now look at this video, where the boys really get into the competitive spirit.

It was so fun watching the guys dance.

And then the festival was over for real, and my colleagues were almost at the park, but not quite. I felt disappointed they missed the festival, but .....

I found myself talking to an Azeri-Georgian gentleman with the help of an Azeri visitor who spoke English. Young Romeo appeared, as well, listening to the conversation. 

The Azeri-Georgian man, perhaps in his 60s, was inviting me to come to his house ..... and then my colleagues arrived.


To be continued ....

Nothing There Tour #2: Gardabani, Part 1: Town of Surprises

Gardabani, Georgia. Dancers waiting.

Sadly, my experiences in Gardabani, Georgia, in spring 2012 are only now being brought to life in the written form. I smile every time I think of Gardabani.

In Nothing There Tour #1, I told you about Vakhtangisi, which is on the Georgia-Azerbaijan border. In that report, I explained how Georgians wondered why anyone would go to Gardabani because "therrre's nothing therrrre!"

Now I've gone twice to Gardabani!

Some highlights:

• Something called "kubdari," which is a tasty meat pie - a small pizza with a lid, say
• A surprise supra with strangers
• A good white wine made by an Azeri-Georgian
• Men in black
• Georgian rap
• Filthy WC
• Chickens having sex
• Horses running down the street

What do you mean nothing is there?!  

Gardabani, Georgia. Restaurant door.

The first time

The first time I went to Gardabani was with Sandy; we stopped on our way back from Vakhtangisi. Had lunch at the restaurant next to the Orthodox church. Like so many Georgian restaurants, it had a fine door.

Georgian servers are also skilled at upselling their products, and we ended up with far too much food on the table. In addition to a tomato-cucumber-parsley-onion salad, we had a khachapuri and kubdari, a sort of meat pizza pie. Delicious. Most of the stuff we carried out with us to take back home to Rustavi. 

A Georgian restaurant tradition I like is the prevalence of "kupays"in most places. They are private rooms or alcoves. They let you escape from the noise and smoke of the larger dining room.

Another Georgian custom I like is that when there's live music, the band plays one song, then takes a break instead of the one-hour or half-hour sets in the U.S. One song, then break. The Georgian way is the perfect win - you can listen to the music, dance, and also talk to your companions throughout the evening.

When we emerged from the restaurant, we walked across the main drag to find a marshrutka. In the yard of some official building, we saw chickens engaged in digging a hole in the ground. Or maybe just laying eggs in an existing hole. Kind of interesting, what those hens were doing getting in and out of that hole in the ground. Then we saw the rooster come over and, well ... it was over very quickly.

We caught a marshrutka and returned to Rustavi with our culinary riches.

The second time - Bayrami!

Before we left Vakhtangisi, we learned from the English teacher, Nata, that there'd be a large Bayrami celebration in Gardabani the following week. Sandy couldn't go, but I was happy to be able to make it. I also let other TLGers know about it.

On an April Thursday mid-day, I got into Marshrutka #13 at the Old Bazaar in Old Rustavi and began the short trip to Gardabani. When we began, there were only an elderly woman and man on board, plus me. As we neared Gardabani, however, clutches of young girls boarded, giggling as girls do. Soon, the marshrutka was packed with tween girls. Some boys got on. Some men and women. By the time we rolled into Gardabani proper, the marshrutka was so tightly packed with humanity, individual bodies coalesced into one organ with multiple appendages that had limited range of movement.


The event was held in a park next to Gardabani's city hall ("meria"). There was a large stage for bands and dancers. Representatives from nearby villages had set up feast tables to show off their food and drink. (Though most Azeri-Georgians are Muslim, not all follow the proscription against alcohol consumption.)

Gardabani, Georgia

I saw several Bayrami maidens, bedecked with flowery headdresses, carrying the traditional fruit and new grass, to the village tables. Sometimes a band of music men accompanied them.

Men boiled khinkali.

Gardabani, Georgia

Politicos visited. 

Men gave speeches.

  

Men ate.
 

Gardabani, Georgia

Gardabani, Georgia

Tea was made.

Gardabani, Georgia

I saw the director of Nata's Vakhtangisi school - that village was represented today also. I was invited to partake of its table's contents, including wine. All delicious.

There was music on the large stage - dances and concerts!

To be continued ... 

Nothing There Tour #1: Vakhtangisi

Using a clever ruse, we photographed this man, who may have actually been to Azerbaijan, in order to take a clandestine photo of Azerbaijan, over there on the right, said country apparently not liking to be photographed, or Georgians not liking that it be photographed. 

This is the inaugural post for the Nothing There Tour, where I check out a place that has seemingly nothing to see, and either confirm or deny said nothingness.

Last weekend, colleague Sandy and I contemplated our choices for a day trip. At first we planned to go to Mtatsminda, a location overlooking Tbilisi, for its views and .... yawn ... some other stuff, like a church and a famous cemetery .... and we were game, but we felt lukewarm about it.

Then I remembered my pledge to myself to visit Gardabani. I loved telling Georgians that I planned to go to Gardabani because they always responded exactly the same way: "Gardabani?! Whyyyy?! There's nothing therrrre?!"


Would Sandy be interested in going to Gardabani? Why yes, she would!

Gardabani has a large Azeri-Georgian population and it's very close to the Azerbaijan border. Some villages are right on the border. The police mentioned Jandari as one example; Nely cited Vakhtangisi.

Vakhtangisi, Georgia. Houses. 2012

Sandy and I caught a Vakhtangisi-bound marshrutka (#13) at Old Bazaar in Old Rustavi. (Tbilisi also has marshrutkas going to the Gardabani area, which depart from Tbilisi's Didube station.) The fare to Vakhtangisi is 1 lari, 50 tetri.

As we chugged out of Rustavi, we passed two prisons, one for men and the other for women; factories, both active and defunct; and some sort of energy plant with structures that looked like nuclear power plants. We passed through Gardabani, a pleasant-looking town. We knew we'd stop there on the way back from our Vakhtnagisi tour.

Vakhtangisi, Georgia. House. 2012

The border crossing


About 45 minutes later, we arrived in Vakhtangisi, the end of the road.

In town, we went by a surprising event: men drumming and playing some kind of flute; a young girl riding in a flower-festooned, horse-drawn cart, holding a plate of fruit, many people gathered inside a schoolyard. What strange ritual this?

Vakhtangisi, Georgia. Bayrami 2012.

But our minds were on the border. When the marshrutka stopped, the first thing we did when we debarked was head to Azerbaijan. To get to Azerbaijan from Georgia, you have to get a letter of invitation from someone in Azerbaijan, submit your passports to some authority in advance, and pay some bucks. We didn't have any of those things. Except our passports. We'd brought them with us, just in case. Just in case what, we didn't know. But just in case.

Vakhtangisi, Georgia. Houses. 2012

We approached the border police officers. We smiled brightly.

"Hi!"

Two or three uniformed police looked back, bemused. Then a non-uniformed gentleman walked over; he must have been the supervisor.  

"We just want to put a foot in Azerbaijan. Can we do that"?

"No."

"Can we just touch our hand on the Azerbaijan side"?

"No. Who are you? Are you tourists"?

"We're English teachers from America and Canada. Could you step in Azerbaijan and reach out to us and we'll hold your hand so we will be in Azerbaijan through you"?

"No."

"Can we take a photo of Azerbaijan"?

"No."

Pause.

"Can you pick up a rock from Azerbaijan and bring it over to the Georgian side and we could touch it"?

"No."

"Is there a toilet"?

"Yes." And one of the men pointed to a small, stand-alone building. Just the size of an outhouse.

We walked over. There was a ditch filled with water which flowed behind the outhouse. I opened the door. It was nice! Heated! Western toilet! Very clean! In fact, here is a photo of the bathroom that is on the border between Georgia and Azerbaijan.

Toilet in Vakhtangisi, Georgia, on Azerbaijan border. 2012

I used the toilet. Then Sandy used the toilet.

There was a woman standing outside when we'd both finished. Friendly smile from her. I pointed to the ditch and asked which way the water flowed. Toward Azerbaijan? Yes.

Very well, then. Mission accomplished, no visa required.

As we walked away from the border toilet, some men approached us. Don't know about what. Taxi, maybe. We took their picture.

Then we took a photo of Azerbaijan.

Vakhtangisi, Georgia. Georgia-Azerbaijan border. 2012.

Bayrami


Now it was time to go check out those strange goings-on at the school. We walked down the street. There is only the one in the village.

Vakhtangisi, Georgia. Houses. 2012

Every once in awhile, a lone car screamed down the street at warp speed, all the better to prove the driver's manhood, we supposed. Stoopids. We wondered how many pedestrians have been injured by such recklessness. 

Sandy and I walked into the school yard. Joyful! We heard music and saw young girls dancing. The horse and buggy, covered in fabric and flowers, was over on one side, fathers taking photos of their young daughters in the buggy.

Vakhtangisi, Georgia. Bayrami 2012.

Over on the right was a colorful picnic table filled with fruits, nuts, and breads. Men sat there, drinking tea from small, shapely glasses.

Vakhtangisi, Georgia. Bayrami 2012.

Vakhtangisi, Georgia. Bayrami 2012.

We looked on the school porch where there were girls directing each other in traditional dances, performed to tunes provided by a local DJ.

Sandy and I got up on the stage and danced, too.

What was all this about? It was bayrami (or more accurately, Novrus Bayram), an Azerbaijan (and others, too) holiday that welcomes spring. It was so ... splendid ... to be in this village on this day.  

We met the school's English teacher, Nata, along with some of the other teachers, who all live in Rustavi. Unfortunately, the school in Vakhtangisi doesn't have a TLG teacher.

We left smiling, with colored eggs, different kinds of nuts, and oranges stuffed into our bags.

We began to walk - for however long we felt like it - to Gardabani. We were 18 km from Rustavi.

Vakhtangisi, Georgia. 2012.

 We passed Vakhtangisi's internet cafe.

Vakhtangisi, Georgia. Internet cafe.

Outside the village, we passed sheep.

Vakhtangisi, Georgia. 2012

We followed a couple of bulls and their tender. Suddenly, they veered to the left when they spied some cows. Then tender chased after them. 

Vakhtangisi, Georgia.2012

We walked for a long while. When we reached the town of Kesalo, a car pulled up alongside. It was filled with the school teachers who live in Rustavi - we squished in and they dropped us off in Gardabani.

We loved our trip to Vakhtangisi.

Verdict: There is something there!