Davit Gareja

Davit Gareja, Georgia

The plan for the day was to see Davit Gareja, one of Georgia's most famous historic and religious sites. It abuts the Azerbaijan border. It is a place of hermetic monks.

Pam, Kate, Sandy, and I met at Didube market. It was crazeeeee there. A massive snarl of taxis, marshrutkas, buses, people, vendors. Horns honking. Tempers flaring. It was the day before the Orthodox Easter.

We negotiated with a taxi driver to take us for the day to Davit Gareja for 100 lari. He spoke no English and, of course, my Georgian is minimal. Before we sealed the deal, Sandy and I talked on the phone, as she was en route from Gori, to make sure she was OK with this plan instead of taking a marshrutka to Gardabani and then finding a taxi there. We awaited her arrival at the market before we could take off. The taxi driver wasn't sure if our answer was yay or nay, though I'd told him yes, so he and I had a minor set-to at Didube's roundabout island, while I tried to explain that I was expecting Sandy any moment and yes, we intended to use his services, while he tried to explain ... I don't know what. He came very close to the line where I would have felt justified saying, "Bicho, ra ginda"? (Dude, what do you want?) but he didn't quite cross it.

Eventually, we were off. Really, what a madhouse Didube was!


There are a couple of approaches to Davit Gareja, and our taxi driver chose the Kakheti route.

We stopped in Sagarejo, Kakheti, for picnic provisions before turning off on the barren road to Davit Gareja: Skewered barbecued pork, tomato and cucumber salad, bread, apples, and cookies.

Davit Gareja, Georgia.

The topography transformed into a land I hadn't seen before in Georgia. Knobby-kneed foothills with a green veneer, traversed by large flocks of sheep and shepherds. At Davit Gareja itself, red-and-cream straited cliff formations. All of it striking.

As soon as we arrived at the site, we sought out a picnic spot. This took a little searching, as there are no picnic tables, not much shade, and inconvenient cow flops distributed throughout. But we did find a tree and set up shop for our lunch. (One insurrectionist among us argued for exploring the site before eating, but the rest of us wrestled her to the ground and beat her into submission.) We had a gorgeous view.

Davit Gareja, Georgia.

Davit Gareja, Georgia.

Once fed and watered, we packed our stuff away in the taxi and climbed up to the hermitage itself. (By the way, the taxi driver was fasting because it was the day before Easter, which could explain his occasional grouchiness and also the madness of the Didube market. Put hundreds, more likely thousands, of hungry people together in a traffic jam and things ain't gonna be pretty.)

I felt a little disappointed in Davit Gareja. Blame it on the LP hype and the lovely photos of the complex I've seen. Or the seductive, glossy brochure I had. I don't know. Since I don't bring any religiosity with me, that aspect is lost on me, so I have only my sense of beauty, history, and place to provoke my reactions. Unfortunately, quite a few nooks and crannies were signed off with "no admittance," and we didn't know where or how to access some of the locations of the most intriguing brochure subjects. This kind of disappointment can also be a direct result of not having a knowledgeable guide.

(Note: It's alternatively a function of not having easy access to printers in Georgia and not having a kindle or ipad with us where we can re-consult a guide book about a site. I bought the electronic LP Guide to Georgia, and it's on my laptop, but I had no access to it onsite, a situation I intend to rectify when I return to the U.S. this summer, when I will buy an e-book reader. That'll be super-easy to carry around with me in my bag, always.)

So, frankly, I felt more taken with the unique scenery than the site itself. I felt the same at Uplistsikhe (cave city) near Gori. This has palled my interest in going to Vardzia, the third of the most famous cave communities.

I was glad we could step into the small chapel where a service was taking place.

More photos in the slide show below:









..

On the way back to Tbilisi, the taxi driver and I engaged in a non-conversation in our respective languages while Pam, Kate, and Sandy snickered in the back seat. The wenches.

Armenia: The Tour

Garni Temple, Armenia

Spoiler alert: Armenian churches are pretty much like Georgian churches. Which is to say that if you've seen one Georgian church, you've seen all Georgian (and Armenian) churches.


Kathy and I took the Envoy Hostel's Essential Tour, which has a focus on churches and monasteries. (Any tour in the Caucasus is going to include churches, monasteries, or perhaps in the case of Azerbaijan, mosques.)

In our little marshrutka-tour group were two Russians, a gregarious Irishman and his pre-school daughter, four women who work in Dubai but who are from the U.S., Canada, Malaysia, and Hong Kong; three Americans who are TLG teachers in Georgia, an American who works for the BBC in the Caucasus, the tour guide, the driver, and a tour guide trainee.

First stop: Lake Sevan and the Sevanavank Monastery. It was bitterly, brutally cold as we walked up the thousands of cold, gray, icy steps. Our cheeks burned from the freezing wind.

Sevanavank Monastery, Lake Sevan, Armenia

Under normal circumstances, I'd have waited patiently for my fellow tourists to be outside of the photo frame to capture the postcard beauty of the monastery, the lake, and the snowy surroundings, but one can only do so much for one's art. It was so cold ... what was that English idiom I meant to teach my police class? ... as cold as a witch's tit in a brass bra.

The two women in the pretty, white coats were in Armenia from Dubai (which, right now in this very moment, is enjoying the most perfect balmy weather), but they came to Armenia to see the snow and, I guess, to experience the novelty of shivering.

Lake Sevan, Armenia

Sevanavank Monastery, Lake Sevan, Armenia

Armenians (and Georgians) like to joke that the one thing Armenia has plenty of is stone.

2nd stop: Another church. Made of stone.

3rd stop: Noratus Cemetery in a large village (~ 9000 people). I'd have loved to have spent more time here, but the cold and snow made wandering around not so enticing. The cemetery is famous for the stories the tombstones tell about the lives or deaths of those buried here. The cemetery dates back to the 9th century.

 

Khachkars (stone crosses) at Noratus Cemetery, Armenia

Death story at Noratus Cemetery, Armenia

Khachkars (stone crosses) at Noratus Cemetery, Armenia

4th stop: Bathroom stop and lunch.

Garni Temple, Armenia

5th stop: Garni Temple. A sweet gem. Built on the edge of a scenic river gorge.

View of river gorge from Garni Temple, Armenia

A visual palate cleanser from the typical Caucasian spiritual architecture, Garni Temple is allegedly the only pagan temple allowed to remain standing from prior holy wars against ungodly structures.

Garni Temple, Armenia

Garni Temple, Armenia

Garni Temple, Armenia

From Garni Temple, we marshrutka'd to the last tour stop, Geghard Monastery, which has an Indiana Jones vibe in the interiors.

Geghard Monastery, Armenia

Geghard Monastery, Armenia

Geghard Monastery, Armenia

Two priests prayed:

Can you smell the frankincense?

Geghard Monastery, Armenia

Kutaisi: This Wasn't in the Brochures!

Sandy, Jennifer, and I were to go to Kutaisi together, but Jennifer was the victim of a fall on ice. She twisted her knee badly enough to ground her in Dmanisi. Both Sandy and I have also fallen on the snow or ice, but we were lucky not to have injured ourselves.

Saturday morning, I took a marshrutka from Rustavi to the Didube station in Tbilisi. Didube is a public transportation hub with a metro stop and local and regional marshrutkas, buses, and taxis.

Didube also has a large bazaar with produce, meat, cheese, spices, clothing, and small household items. Here's a funky little video of the market interior.

A local marshrutka driver kindly escorted me to the line of Kutaisi-bound marshrutkas. I bought two tickets - one for me and one for Sandy, who we'd scoop up alongside the road as we drove by Gori, where she is based. Cost per ticket = 10 lari.

With the help of her hostess, Sandy got a taxi to the locally-known usual spot along the highway to catch marshrutkas, buses, and shared taxis barreling to other Georgian destinations. The pick-up was choreographed via intense (and several) phone conversations between my marshrutka driver's assistant and Sandy's taxi driver. It was slightly stressful for Sandy, as her taxi driver seemed a little obtuse, but it worked out OK, and we plucked her off the road and we were on our way in earnest to Kutaisi.

.... where we got off in a Soviet-style part of the city at a stretch of the muddy, be-rubbled road next to the McDonald's.

We'd denied ourselves our morning coffee or tea to prepare for our marshurtka ride, and we really didn't have a clue how to get to our guesthouse, so we popped into the McDonald's for hot liquid, a bathroom, and some direction. Ran into two TLGers, one placed in Kutaisi and the other visiting from her placement in Svaneti. They gave us the scoop on the bus (#1) to city center, where we'd call the guesthouse for further instructions.

After a relaxing chat and drink, they took off and so did we. Sandy and I made our way across the perilous street and onto the muddy, icy, rubble-filled, flooded street and non-sidewalk. Men appeared at our sides wanting to taxi us to Batumi or other destination. One man in particular kept hanging next to my elbow beseeching me to go somewhere til finally I said, in exasperation, "Ra ginda?" [What do you want?] He put his arms up and backed away. Finally.

When Sandy and I travel together, we can't help but laugh at how reality and our expectations are so off the mark, and this was no exception. As we walked through melt water and icy sludge through a shattered pavement, we could only laugh at how different this scene was from our imaginings of Georgia.

Kutaisi, Georgia - This wasn't in the brochure!

 But we found the right bus and successfully reached the city center.

Next: Walking Down to Town

A Day in Mtskheta

Mtskheta, Georgia

Mtskheta was the capital of an old Georgian kingdom a couple thousand years ago. It's only about half an hour from Tbilisi by marshrutka.

Sandy, Eberle, and I checked it out on Saturday, which also happened to be Georgia's version of All Souls Day, when one prays for those who have died. (Nely and Ketino had prepared several dishes, and a bottle of wine, to take to a church in Rustavi.) 

First we visited the Samtavro "monastery," as it's called in Georgia, but many of us would refer to it as a convent, as it houses sisters. There are two churches on the grounds.

St. Nino's chapel on right, Samtavro convent, Mtskheta, Georgia

One is a small stone church where St. Nino allegedly worshipped. St. Nino is the woman who brought Christianity to Georgia, so this church was built in the 4th century. The first Christian king and queen are buried here. The other church is quite large. In the photo on left, you can see an old fortress in the distance.

Mtskheta, Georgia

I wish I could have photographed the inside of the large church. And had a recorder with me. And had a fragrance recorder (which must be invented some day). Because walking in, we were immersed in a sensory bath. Women's voices, a capella, wafted about us. The fragrance of incense. The tiny fires of hundreds of diminutive candles illuminating the shadowy interior. Light, filtered through candle smoke, gleamed from the windows on high. Many loaves of bread lay on one table; wine jugs on another. A priest gave communion, using the bread and the wine. A large table was weighted with food and drink brought by worshippers in honor of All Souls Day, and which would later be shared with the needy.

Worshippers visited the grave of a holy man outside. They scooped up blessed soil from his grave, deposited it in small plastic bags, and carried it away. Sandy, Eberle, and I did the same; I gave mine to Nely. Eberle made hers part of an assortment of holy items to give to her hostess' mother-in-law for her birthday. I must ask Sandy what she did with hers.


After leaving the church, we had lunch at Cafe Guga. The proprietress was making fresh kinkhali as we stepped up to the order window. She had a kindly smile.

Chilly day, but sunny, so we sat outside on upended cut-log seats.

We shared dishes of kinkhali (made with minced pork), svardi (barbecued pork), roast beef and potatoes, and bread. Eberle and I each had a beer; Sandy had hot tea. As we finished, the proprietor brought us a plate of persimmons and pomegranates from the trees in the courtyard.
 

Mtskheta, Georgia

Museum description, Mtskheta, Georgia

Eberle had to cut out early, so we saw her off on a return marshrutka, then visited the archeological local museum. Sandy and I saw some ceremonial things at the museum.

Ceremonial thing, Mtskheta, Georgia

While there, we thought to use the lavatory. I was pleased to see that the tear-off toilet paper had a crossword puzzle motif.

Mtskheta, Georgia

Then off we went, via taxi, the five or so kilometers up to the Jvari Monastery, built in the 6th century. Like so many other buildings, this is undergoing major restoration. I wasn't all that taken with the monastery itself, but the mountaintop location afforded a spectacular view of Mtshkheta and its surroundings.

Jvari Monastery, Mtskheta, Georgia

View of Mtskheta from Jvari Monastery, Georgia

View of Jvari Monastery from Svetitskheoveli Cathedral complex, Mtskheta

 
When we returned to Mtskheta, Sandy and I walked over to the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral, built in 1010. The robe of Christ is purportedly buried beneath a pillar in the church.

Svetitskheoveli is quite imposing by itself, and in concert with its fortress-like surround. Massive building. A high stone wall protects it from attack.

Mtskheta, Georgia

Mtskheta, Georgia

Mtskheta, Georgia

 
It's considered one of the holiest places in the country, yet it has a rather commercial vibe. Maybe that's because of the wedding parties going in and out, followed by pilot-fish photographers and family and friends. I even saw a monk, participating in a wedding ceremony, step aside to talk on his cell phone.

Mtskheta, Georgia

Mtskheta, Georgia

Even so, I must admit the interior is magnificent. I hope all of the flashes popping off don't ruin the paintings.

Mtskheta, Georgia

Mtskheta, Georgia

Mtskheta, Georgia

Mtskheta, Georgia

Mtskheta, Georgia

Mtskheta, Georgia

Mtskheta, Georgia

The compound is also center stage to a part of Mtskheta that has been .... er ... Disneyfied, the epitome of An Authentic Picturesque Georgian Village. And that's a bit of a problem I have with some of the restorations I've seen in Georgia. Reminds me of the time awhile back in the U.S. when people had their wood antiques "dipped" in paint or varnish remover, and then they "restored" the hell out of the piece so it looked brand new, but with all of the lovely patina gone. Scroll back up to that 4th century chapel of St. Nino's. It could have been built last year.

Mtskheta, Georgia

Sandy and I caught a marshrutka back to Tbilisi's Didube station, where I departed for Rustavi and she for Gori.