Away Awhile Journal Entry 62

Journal Entry 62

January 3rd, 2006

"Warm Cold Caucasus"

It's been a long time since I've been 'stuck' somewhere, like the Asian days when I plan to stay two weeks and end up staying four. But that's what's happened here.

Like I said last time, entered Georgia (11DEC) with no real conception of anything, including the language. Surprisingly, it turned out to be an array of squiggles and loops, completely unintelligible. I (eventually) found a warm friendly home to stay in, and that's been the theme ever since. This month has been Georgia, Armenia, and the Republic of Nagorno-Karabakh.

I'll start with food for a change. Georgia and Armenia are actually surprisingly different, though both are what I term 'peasant' food (in a charming and completely non-derogatory way). Georgia had a Russian feel to it: khatchapuri (flaky cheese-stuffed pies) are the national street food. Then there's khinkali (boiled meat or potato dumplings). And a lot of hearty stews and homemade jams (cherry, apricot, raspberry, walnut). Armenia adds kratchki (meat rollups), spas (hot yogurt soup), dolma (boiled grape-leaf meat packets), lavash (huge thin flatbread that wraps or mops up everything), and strong salty cheeses that smell and taste a bit like old socks (but delicious!). And Nagorno-Karabakh, like Armenia, but with the addition of zhengalov khats (spinach and herb-stuffed fried pancake).

But what I'll remember most is the post-dinner tea. Not just tea, but a spread, complete with tea, bread, pickled vegetables, jams (usually eaten plain), and cheese. Yum!

And being holiday season, both countries had their own versions of a brilliant snack: they take walnuts and string them together, then repeatedly dip into a thick grape juice concoction (like making candles). The result is a somewhat waxy, slightly sweet snack, that lasts forever. Chuchkela in Georgia, sudjuk in Armenia (the Armenian version being my favorite). All in all, food here is great for the cold. Heavy on meat, bread, potatoes, fresh dairy, and simplicity. A bit like growing up in the rural Midwest of America!

Enough. So I ate. What did I DO?

Tbilisi, Georgia's capital, is beautiful. A city nestled between hills, a river flowing through its center. Dotted by churches and monuments. I buy wool socks and a sweater. Take several short trips. Visit Mtskheta, center of Georgian Orthodox Christianity. Kazbegi, a stunning village up near the Russian border, nestled in a valley at the foot of 4000m Caucasian mountain ridges and its famous 5000m peak. Uplistikhe, an ancient pagan temple and cave complex. Gori, Joseph Stalin's birthplace. Alaverdi, an old old cathedral. Sighnaghi, a hilltop town, with the razor-like Caucasus mountain ridge (and Russian border) to the north...a nearby monastery with beautifully-tended gardens, old women in an empty restaurant serving wine and khinkali and lighting the fireplace.

Probably my favorite episode was when Erik (an American) and I were attempting to get from Telavi to Sighnaghi, two towns apparently unconnected by public transport. A day-long series of minibuses and wandering and attempts to hitchhike led us to follow a path up to some random church. After a long walk uphill, we found your run-of-the-mill 6th century church. On its annual saint day. A 40' table filled with people and food and wine. And this is the Caucasus: of course we're invited to join in their feast! And not only to we eat with them, they make toasts to us, and eventually send us packing with a bag of leftovers that supplied our next couple meals!

OK. I move on to Armenia. Cool visa sticker in the passport. Officially converting in 301 AD, it's the world's first Christian state. Yerevan, the capital, is Tbilisi's cosmopolitan cousin. It's not as beautiful (aside from its hilltop views of Mt Ararat, Armenia's national symbol--paradoxically across the border in Turkey), but it has everything: ritzy shops, opera and theatre, and trendy cafes. I start my visit by exploring the Genocide museum. Why didn't we learn about this in school? Armenia's genocide by the Turks occurred this century. The scale was a bit smaller than the Holocaust, but not lacking in its brutality. The real tragedy now is that Turkey denies it even happened, even with all the glaring evidence, and the rest of the world seems to acknowledge but somewhat sidesteps the issue.

Anyway, I make several solo trips, most involving a local bus, a long walk, and some hitchhiking. Lotsa monasteries. Geghard: in a gorge, immaculate carvings, incense and candles, a stream running through. Hayravank: a desolate setting, perched on a cold snowy hill above Lake Sevan, solid yet broken, seemingly abandoned. Sevanank: another lonely hilltop above the lake, many more khatchkars (stone crosses). The atmosphere at these places is powerful. You get there and just think, 'wow'. All of these are made of huge blocks of red-to-black stone. Cold, imposing.

Christmas for me was a solitary affair. I visited Echmiadzin, center of the Armenian Orthodox church (and hooded monks and candles and incense). Saw a film, visited bakeries, had a nice meal, went to an Armenian rock concert. Walked home at midnight in freshly-falling snow. Nice. Awoke the next day to a beautiful white blanket of snow. Took a bus for several hours of icy roads and mountain passes en route to...

Nagorno-Karabakh. The international world does not recognize it as a republic (because it doesn't want to piss off oil-rich Azerbaijan, with whom it fought its war for independence), but it has its own government. I even have a visa in my passport for it. Ceasefire since 1994, but seems a bit of a long-term powderkeg. You even briefly cross an (apparently) Azerbaijani corridor to get to the country. Ethnically it's Armenian. A small mountainous republic.

A similar theme...I stay with an old woman, bus and walk to an ancient hilltop monastery. I get stuck for 2 hours waiting for public transport. Buy yogurt and a chunk of bread and sit by a wood stove in a small shop, meet the locals. End up joining one for the ride back to Stepanakert (Nagorno-Karabakh's capital), and meet his cousin, an English-speaking woman freshly back from studying in the US. Spend the remainder of the day at her family's flat, and get invited to a birthday party the next day. Homemade wine, a spread like a Midwestern holiday potluck, a smile-and-laughter filled party. I'm treated as part of the family, eat eat eat, with a bit of drink as well. I love these people!

Back to Armenia. Meet up with Karen, a Peace Corps volunteer I'd met the week before, and spend New Year's Eve with her host family in a small village. Amazing! I actually get there on the 30th, and on arrival her family has a meal prepared. I'm treated as a son as we sit down to a table filled with food. The Eve is a cold but crystal-clear day. We run errands and get invited in for more food and vodka and cakes. The day is spent cooking and preparing for the New Year...which starts with a 11pm dinner, and ends on January 13! The centerpiece of our meal was a huge slab of pig's ass.

And New Year's Day itself. Leave the village to a Peace Corps volunteer's pad in a nearby town. Perfect: a warm nap, hours working on a puzzle (when's the last time I did that?), and a low-key evening with a bit of wine, hanging out with a few Americans and hearing the things about a country that you don't pick up on as a transient.

And since then, I've been extracting myself from the Caucasus. Back to Yerevan, cross into Georgia, and now I spend my last day here before making an exit to Turkey.

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The Eastern Europe I'd always imagined. Roadside fruit vendors and hanging slabs of fresh and cured meat. Big metal statues, crumbling apartment blocks, small boxy cars. Roving babushkas selling plastic bags. Soviet-style shop counters. Ice-encrusted streams, a wrecked car in a ravine, kids sliding down hills in plastic tubs and makeshift sleds.

Everything here is so ancient and rustic. Most of these stone churches are over 1000 years old. And there are no tourists. Everywhere I go, I feel a bit of an explorer, scrambling, walking around. Getting open stop-in-your-tracks stares (do I look THAT different?). I hitch, I miss buses. Sleeping in the houses of old women--I haven't been to a hotel since my last update. Cold homes, warm wool blankets, unnecessarily large pillows, and a neverending supply of tea.

Long cold solitary walks, hands in pockets. A land of cold winters, but warm and legendary hospitality. Despite a month here, I've missed many 'highlights'. But no worries, I'll probably be back someday. This place has been good to me.

' "Logic only gives man what he needs," he stammered. "Magic gives him what he wants." ' (Tom Robbins)

'But he's always buried in those books or shuffling around the house like he's lost in some dream.' (Khaled Hosseini)

Away Awhile is hosted by Josh Trutwin.