Svaneti, Part 7: Back Home, Not Without Drama

Mestia, Svaneti, Georgia.

Old plan

So remember what I said about planning?

Yeah.

"Zara," our guesthouse hostess, happened to visit with her neighbor on Sunday morning while we had breakfast. She returned with a report that the neighbor had planned to fly to Tbilisi that afternoon, but that the flight had been cancelled. Yup, that meant us, too.

So what would have been a fine day for exploring more Svaneti territory and then a one-hour afternoon flight to Tbilisi, turned into a new plan: Arranging for a way back down to Zugdidi in a chartered marshrutka (2.5 hours) and then a five-hour marshrutka ride from Zugdidi to Tbilisi.

Oh, and did I mention that Kate's flight back to the U.S. left at 5:00 the next morning?

So we had to leave, like, now.


New plan

Zara helped us negotiate a marshrutka price of 150 lari for the ride to Zugdidi (sometimes costs up to 200 lari) while I called Pegasus Airlines and ensured we could get an immediate refund at the Mestia airport.

So who turned out to be the marshrutka driver? Yup, the same guy who brought us up to Mestia.

Airport

First stop: Mestia airport terminal. Which reminded me of a caterpillar.

Caterpillar

Mestia airport terminal, Georgia.

The inside is modern.

Mestia airport, Georgia.

Mestia airport, Georgia.

I will say that Pegasus Airlines gave a prompt refund in cash. However, the airline takes no responsibility for facilitating return travel for stranded travelers. If flight cancellations were a rare event, I could understand that, but it's my understanding that such cancellations happen frequently. Excellent customer service would dictate that they'd have an arrangement for expedited transport to Tbilisi in such circumstances instead of forcing their customers to fend for themselves at the last minute.

View of Mestia from airport.

Marshrutka from Mestia to Zugdidi

Our driver did his best to get us down the mountain to Zugdidi in good time, which we appreciated.

On the way, he stopped so we could capture this view of a thundering stream. You can't tell the scale from the video, but the log and boulder in the middle of this stream are immense.

Marshrutka from Zugdidi to Tbilisi


Sparrow had already reported to us that her marshrutka hadn't actuallly left Mestia til 6:30 and that it had taken a slow three hours to get to Zugdidi.

Her man-on-the-ground intel told us that the afternoon Zugdidi-to-Tbilisi marshrutkas left at 3:00 and 4:30. There had to be at least 7 passengers on a marshrutka for it to leave, and Kate, Sandy, and I agreed that if we had to make up the cost difference for missing passengers, we'd do so. Thanks to our Mestia driver, we made it to Zugdidi about 2:30 and then .... proceeded to wait .... until .... 4:goddamn:thirty for it to leave. And it was hot. And we knew we wouldn't get to Tbilisi before 9:30 p.m. That seven-passenger minimum business? Don't know about that - the marshrutka evidently wasn't gonna move til every last seat was filled, but we didn't know that then.

My observation of Georgians is that they are not averse to a little drama. So at about 3:30, I went inside to the ticket office and asked, in mangled Georgian-English when this 3:00 marshrutka was going to leave, to which the ticket agent said, in Georgian, something like 4:30, to which I expressed my frustration in English and to which she replied with equal fervor, in Georgian, something unintelligible. We had a little more back and forth in our respective languages, both confident in our righteous high dudgeon, and then separated.

I went back outside and threw some desultory verbal chops at the marshrutka driver, who was standing in the shade with some of his comrades, smoking a cigarette, and he just kind of laughed at me, at which point I called the Pegasus airline person at the Mestia airport, chewed on her ear a little bit, and then handed the phone to the marshrutka driver so she could box him around on my behalf.  He took things a little more seriously then, and subsequently kept me up to date as to the passenger count and his estimate of how many minutes it was going to be before we departed. My fellow marshrutka inhabitants, some of whom had suffered stolidly for nigh on an hour and a half by now, observed the theater in silence.

So nothing really changed, but the performances provided some tele-novelaic relief.

Eventually, we did depart. On the way out of Zugdidi, I took this video. The Zugdidi area is pretty. I especially like the attitudes of the cows. Unlike in other parts of Georgia, where cows have a lie-down alongside the road, the Zugdidi area cows plop themselves smack in the middle of the road, stretch out comfortably, and take it as a given that vehicles will go around them.

At a pit stop before Gori, there was a busload of boys who'd been or were on their way to a singing engagement. They'd chosen this spot as a place for an on-the-road supra, and they sang some polyphonic pieces before eating. I was so glad Kate had a chance to hear this right before she left.

I also saw a couple of  young boys, maybe age 10 or so, buying a bottle of some hard liquor from one of the vendors. Something for the road, don't you know.

Sandy got off the marshrutka along the highway by Gori.

Kate and I arrived in Tbilisi about 9:30 p..m. or so - we said our goodbyes at Station Square, where she got on the metro to return to her guesthouse and a few hours of sleep before her plane left early the next morning, and I hopped onto a marshrutka to Rustavi.

Svaneti, Part 5: Mestia, Subpart A

Mestia, Svaneti.

Kate, Sandy, Sparrow, and I arrived in Mestia around 10ish a.m.

First impressions

A bit cloudy. Noise from construction. Muddy, gravelly roads from construction and maybe snowmelt. Buildings in various stages of completion. Brand-new hostel on the main square, adjacent to a brand-new tourist office. Small park in the square. Mountains surrounding.

Lodgings

The marshrutka driver who'd brought us up from Zugdidi had attempted to steer us to his (or his employer's) guesthouse, but we weren't in love with its curb appeal and we had him turn around and return us to the town square.

We walked into the government tourist office and asked about a list of guesthouses, to which the rep responded, "Go to the guesthouse your driver suggested. It is a good one."

We explained that we'd already considered and rejected it, thanks. We sought a place with a view and that wasn't too far out of town. We boiled our options to two choices - the new Hostel Seti next door or a guesthouse (I'll call it Zara's) that was in town and had a view. Two of us looked at Seti and then two of us looked at Zara's.

I didn't go inside, but Sparrow and Kate reported that Seti had a nice view, plentiful bathrooms, and everything was very clean and new. Kate and Sandy then walked up to Zara's, about 1/4 mile from the town center, and reported that it had a nice view, spacious rooms with a homey feel, but only one bathroom.

Seti had no meal plan and it was 20 lari per person. The four of us would share a room.

Zara's did have a meal plan and it was 40 lari total per person, 20 for the bed and 10 for each of two meals. We'd sleep two people to a room.

We agreed to go with Zara's and walked to her place.

Mestia, Svaneti. View from guesthouse.

Beautiful view from both an open balcony and an enclosed one. In a country that is still mad for wallpaper, I loved the painted walls, one bedroom in a pristine white, the other in a spring-fresh pink. Sparrow's and my bedroom was huge, with a large dining room table. A couch and two upholstered chairs were grouped around a coffee table.** The windows looked out onto splendid mountain views. Sandy and Kate shared the pink bedroom, which they entered from the open balcony. 

Mestia, Svaneti. One of our guesthouse rooms.

Turned out the food was only so-so. The only bathroom seemed to be shared also with the family, which meant 8 or so people used the same facility. That was a bit of a bummer at times. Plus the water was shut off twice, something that apparently never happens. Who knows.

Mestia, Svaneti. View from guesthouse.

"Zara" was quite pleasant and helpful in sharing information, especially when we needed her assistance in tracking down Kate's camera after our return to Tbilisi. But the reason I'm not sharing her guesthouse name is because of the weirdness that occurred just before we checked out. "Zara" had explained that Svans are proud of the fact that they are "pure," as they don't mix (i.e. marry) with other groups like the rest of the Georgians, as such practices are "bad." Svans are admired, for example, for their white skin and fair hair and eyes.

This was off-putting.

Mestia, Svaneti. View from guesthouse.

A walk around town

Shortly after we arrived at Zara's, it began to rain, and the four of us took it as a sign that we were supposed to just relax, drink some coffee, consume some munchies, and enjoy the view. No feeling guilty for thinking we should go out and explore, hike up a mountain right away, or otherwise do something.

Sometimes we need such reminders.

Kate doesn't need any such reminders. She contentedly opened up a book, stretched out on her bed (which faced a beautiful view through the window), and commenced to reading, fully aware that a nap might ensue.

When the rain stopped, Sandy, Sparrow, and I set to scoping out Mestia.

We ran into a self-proclaimed vagabond from - where? Maybe it was the U.S. Or Mexico. Or Poland. It was all a bit vague. But his intent is to be the best photo-journalist in the world, as soon as he bought a really good camera. Or maybe he already has one. And he was on his way to meet someone - a stranger - with whom he'd hike up a mountain from Mestia. At 5:00 p.m. But in the near future, he had an appointment to get smuggled into Syria. And somewhere else, maybe Afghanistan for a chat with the Taliban, I don't remember. But by the way, he'd been robbed just the night before. Or two nights before. And all of his money was stolen and all he had left was 10 lari. He guessed it was because he'd fallen asleep on a park bench in Tbilisi after he got so wasted drinking. But he'd be OK; he always was.

.... So anyway, we continued our walk.


**Wait!!! Look at the photo of that bedroom. There was no coffee table. Just goes to show the unreliablity of memory or so-called eyewitness reports. There would have been a coffee table between the couch and the two chairs in an American setting, so obviously my brain "auto-corrected" my memory. Sheesh.

Svaneti, Part 2: The Overnight Train to Zugdidi

Svaneti, Georgia

For the first leg of our journey to Svaneti, Sandy, Kate, and I took the overnight train from Tbilisi to Zugdidi.

I’d been worried about our tickets – they were only 11 lari apiece and the ticket agent had asked Kate (who purchased the tickets) if she was OK with 2^nd class, as that’s all that was available.

The tickets from Batumi to Tbilisi had been 20 lari for a 4-bed cabin and 40 lari for a 2-bed cabin, so I fretted about these 11-lari tickets. This is because I’d heard about the dreaded platzkart class, where I had the impression travelers stretched out on bare wooden pallets in a car filled with same.

But Marina, who owns the guesthouse where Kate stayed, pored over the ticket information and pronounced that our beds were, indeed, beds and were, indeed, in a private cabin.

So we arrived timely to the train station, climbed aboard our train car and entered our cabin. Tight quarters, but not terrible. We’d shared the cost of the 4^th bunk, so we had the place to ourselves. Sandy volunteered to take the top bunk and Kate and I each had a bottom bunk. No sheets or pillowcases on the vinyl mattresses or for the naked cloth mattress or pillow. I was wondering, "Is this what 2nd class means? No sheets or pillowcases"? But the porter did eventually distribute same.

Having one toilet for 40+ people in a train car is really not sufficient. And the condition of the toilet was foul. People, people: Cleaning supplies don’t cost much. There’s no excuse for such toilets on a public train. They should be cleaned at least once midway through the trip. 

Unfortunately, we couldn't see much out our window as it was pretty grimy.  

But I guess when all was said and done, it got the job done. We slept. We arrived without mishap. And for only 11 lari.  

Sparrow was our man on the ground in Zugdidi; she'd agreed to procure us four seats on the 7:30 a.m. marshrutka to Mestia.