Taxi drivers = instant friends

Mtskheta before the sun rise

 Last Thursday was Saint Nino’s day, which to me meant no school and a four day weekend! Thus, us Samtredia girls decided to make the most out of our weekend by taking the night train into Tbilisi en route to Eastern Georgia.

Buying the tickets was actually quite similar to an Abbott and Costello style “Who’s on First” comedy routine.

Me: “I need tickets for tonight at 12:30”
Booth lady: “12:30 is tomorrow”
Me: “Right, but I need them for tonight”
Booth lady: “Tonight meaning 8pm?”
Me: “No, tonight at 12:30”
Booth lady: “Tomorrow?”
Me: “Uh, technically, yes”
Booth lady: “You want to arrive in the morning or at night?”
Me: “Well, it will be morning, but it will be dark outside”

Finally, after ten minutes of this (except in Russian, so there were scores of grammatical errors) we both established which train I was trying to buy tickets for. However, I forgot my passport at home so I had to go home and relive this conversation twice. Started the weekend off with a bang!

The night train actually ended up being quite comfortable, especially for the mere ten laris (six dollars) we paid. I slept the whole way (though I can sleep anywhere so that’s not really saying much) and was woken up just as we arrived at our destination of Mtskheta (at 6am)!



Ready for sleep on the night train!

Mtskheta is a small, historical town not too far from Tbilisi and on Thursday it was celebrating its 1,000th birthday. This sounded like a party we couldn’t pass up! So after settling into a home-stay and drinking some hot Turkish coffee to fight off the morning chills, we set off for the day’s celebrations.



6am Georgian love for Stew's!



We got to see the sun rise over the Javari Church!

There were hundreds and hundreds of people visiting the famous churches and monasteries of Mtskheta. The Patriarch himself was there (he’s like the Pope of Georgia) and the four of us actually got to see him! Everywhere around us, people were selling candles and churchela (Georgian fruit roll up with walnuts) and would you believe it: yo-yos.

Us Samtredia girls at one of Mtskheta's most famous churches!



There were so many people celebrating Saint Nino's day! The Patriarch is just inside the church.



Enjoying some churchela!





Look at all the Georgian pride in this photo!

Lots of festivities were going on in town. There was a wonderful international dance show, plenty of face painting and there were many hand-made crafts for sale. Not to mention food. (Though really when is there not food). In the late afternoon there was an even concert headlined by famous Georgian singers.

Wonderful Georgian dancers!

Can't mess with Georgian men!

Adorable Azerbaijani dancers! I need one of those hats!

I made a complete fool of myself when I recognized one of the bands. In the middle of the crowd, I screamed out, “OH! IT’S GULI GULI!” (heart heart) after recognizing a song Nini showed me. People in the crowd literally turned around to get a good look at the crazy American screaming. (Thankfully, the concert took place in front of shallow pool, where two men were so drunk they decided to go swimming. That took much of the attention off me).

This drunk man wading in the water was more entertaining than the boy band on stage.

We found some new TLG participants! (Melissa literally walked up to that boy Shawn and asked, "Hi, are you with TLG?")

After a yummy dinner, we ended our night watching the Georgian symphony perform for a crowd of thousands as fireworks lit up the sky. But let me clarify: in America, fireworks are little flowers in the sky, launched off from far away. But in Georgia, the fireworks are set off from the stage. These fireworks engulfed the entire sky, so big and so bright, I could have used sunglasses (and a fire proof suit, just in case). One man saw me quivering as the fireworks exploded and said, “Georgia is full of warriors! Even our fireworks!”

The Georgian symphony!

What I really loved was bumping into some symphony musicians at the local convenience store taking shots of vodka and eating chocolate. All of them in full symphony garb, with their instruments in tow. (Only in Georgia).

After a restful sleep, the four us saw the wonderful Javari church and ate a traditional Mtskhetian meal of lobios (beans) with mchadi and chinkali. We actually ended up getting to Tbilisi by hitchhiking with a woman who picked us up because we “looked like helpless Americans” who actually used to work at a T.J. Maxx department store in Atlanta, Georgia. Small world.

That's me walking up to Javari. Clearly it was a very foggy day.

This is supposed to be a beautiful view of Mtskheta, but instead it's just a background of clouds.

Once in the city, we switched into a cab and intended to find the bus station with marshutkas to Telavi, but we actually ended up touring every single major bus station in Tbilisi (and I mean every single one). After a hilariously frustrating one hour cab ride we finally found the correct station! No one was more excited than our cab driver, who practically felt like an old friend we were with him so long.

Our marshutka ride to Telavi was made complete with a crazy, drunken man who would not stop singing for thirty minutes and a driver who could not find his glasses. Not to mention, the mini-bus was full of heavy construction equipment. In every nook and cranny that could fit an eight foot metal pole of some sort, there would be one. The entire ride felt a bit like a ‘Final Destination’ film. No matter, somehow we made it in one piece to Telavi!

We added a V to the sign ;)

Our time in Telavi was really made special by our home-stay mom who fed us delicious homemade jam and crumpets and asked us to move in to her home. You know, the usual. We spent the night catching up with other TLG participants at a nearby home-stay and woke up excited to head off to Signaghi, the city of love!

Our home-stay mom called us a taxi and off we went. Our taxi driver, whose name was Mamuka, ended up being the most awesome taxi driver ever. He took us all over Signaghi, showing us every noteworthy church and watchtower there was to see, and telling me all about the history of the town.

That's me sitting inside one of the watchtowers at Signaghi!

So hideous, right?

Rocking Svan hats!

Cheesin' with our Signaghi hats! (Don't worry, we didn't actually buy these).



Had to share this gem with the world!

We asked a man if we could crawl into his truck for a photo. He gladly agreed!

The second longest wall in the world, after the Great Wall of China is in Signaghi and it was so cool to see this. It practically felt like we were in China, looking at the Great Wall itself!

I love the one yellow tree in this photo!

We also went to a nearby monastery to see Saint Nino’s grave and attempt to bathe in holy water. While we did see Nino’s grave, the trek down to the holy water turned into a mere forty-five minute hike in the mud. The holy bathe turned out to be fully booked for the day. (It seems easier to get a table at Wolfgang Puck’s steakhouse than to wade in the holy bathhouse). And so, dirty and trembling, we hiked right back up to the top of the mountain we came down from before practically collapsing in a nun’s lap. I jokingly asked Mamuka if he would like to do the whole trek again and he could not have answered the Russian equivalent of, “absolutely not” any faster.

At Saint Nino's grave in Bodbe

Our shoes after our hike in the mud. God bless my hiking boots.

All the girls fell asleep as we drove back to Telavi, while Mamuka and I chatted about politics and religion. He asked me if I’d like to come to his home and pick grapes and it seemed like an offer I couldn’t refuse. So off we went, detouring to Mamuka’s house where I picked fifteen kilos worth of grapes. Think of all the potential pelamushi (grape and honey porridge)!

Mamuka and I at his orchard!

Showing off the tastiest grapes ever!

After spending the entire day with Mamuka (10am to 10pm) it was hard to say goodbye. Mamuka’s second child on the way though, and while we promised to come and see him when his baby is born, he promised to cook us a big meal of kosher shashliki (marinated beef).

Our long trip back to Samtredia seemed short as we all shared our favorite parts of the weekend and discussed what other places we want to travel to in Georgia. I can’t wait to see more of this country and am so glad I’ll have another nine months to explore it!

Mind the wolves

Some berries in the rain

 I know Melissa is a true friend because when I asked her to wake up at 6am while it was pouring rain outside in order to hike up a mountain to go to a church service, she agreed. And that is exactly what we did yesterday!

While the sky was dark, and lightning lit up the sky, Melissa, Eka (my deda) and I set off into town to catch a 6:40am marshutka (mini-bus). This marshutka ride was unlike any I’ve had so far because almost everyone on the bus was a vendor of some sorts, carrying kilo upon kilo of tomatoes, parsley, eggplant and other vegetables to sell at some bazaar outside town. There was actually a wagon attached to the bus where everyone placed their produce, which gave the bus a lovely smell of fresh vegetables. Melissa was also kind enough not to tell me that there was a spider in the hair of the woman sitting in front of us. She is a good friend, I probably would have screamed if I noticed which would have caused our driver to swerve the bus, spilling all the tomatoes.

After about a half hour, the three of us and Irakli, one of my deda’s dental patients, and a sweet, deaf man from Samtredia got off the bus at what appeared to be the middle of nowhere and began to hike up a mountain. I had misunderstood when my deda said the church was a far walk, and forgot to tell Melissa not to where heels. Yes, that’s right; she hiked up a mountain in the pouring rain, wearing heels.

The rain stopped for a bit and we could take a photo. (We climbed all the way to the top of this mountain).

While the walk was beautiful, Irakli, Eka and the nice, deaf man kept warning us about the wolves. I thought they were joking, but they repeatedly told us that when we hear the wolves howl, we should stand still and let the wolves smell us. Irakli often assists the Mamou (the Georgian Orthodox priest, I think) at the monastery we were going to, and he told me that there are almost wolves on the path. I was worried that the deaf man would not know to stop walking when the wolves howled, so I made sure to stand near him to prevent him from being eaten.

The only two living things we passed on our walk up (not counting a snail).

While I was really excited to see some wild wolves, Melissa was not. I almost lost circulation in my hand because she was griping it so hard, anticipating wolves to pop out at any second. Alas, instead of wolves, the only thing that bothered us while we were walking was the rain…

Finally, after about an hour we made it to the monastery! I absolutely cannot remember what it was called, something starting with an S or a J, but it was quite beautiful. Before the service started, we walked around and explored and Irakli told me all about the history of the place.

The church we went to on top of the mountain!

 There was one awkward moment when one of the nuns tried to convince Melissa and me that we should convert to Christianity. She really did not like it when I said that while Christianity is beautiful, we were happy being Jewish. She was trying to prove to me that Christianity is better which made both Melissa and I uncomfortable. The concept of “to each his own” did not seem to translate over well. I don’t like it when people make a fuss about religion. So, you like oranges and I like apples; at the end of the day it’s all fruit.

Don't we look like nice Georgian Orthodox girls?

Any ways, the service was pretty but also uncomfortable. Irakli told me not to touch anything or make any hand motions because I wasn’t Christian, so I wasn’t really sure if I should stand when everybody stood or bow when everyone bowed. I wanted to be respectful but not sacrilegious. There were a few moments when the Mamou blessed everyone for being a good Christian and I did feel like the elephant in the room. Something that I really liked about the service was that all the nuns formed a little chorus and there was beautiful harmonizing throughout the entire service.

Melissa and I decided to leave before everyone was given the communion to eat to avoid further, ‘oh-sorry- we-can’t-eat-that-we’re-Jewish’ awkwardness but we left a little early and ended up huddling like arctic penguins in the rain for twenty minutes. We were really cold, but too worried it would be disrespectful to reenter the service so we wandered around the monastery looking for a little shelter. We came across this beautiful but tiny little house with pretty frescoes within it and took shelter there.

The small room we took shelter in

I’m almost certain we were trespassing into a very holy room that we should not have been in, but we agreed that had we not gone in there it’s possible we’d have to have our feet cut off because of frost bite (and surely then the wolves would want some toe snacks).

Meow, I am a wet cat

Once the service ended, we regrouped with Eka and Irakli and chatted with the Mamou. He really liked Melissa and said that if she converted, he could find her a wonderful husband. He didn’t seem to like me at all, but it may have had to do with the fact that I looked (and felt) like a wet cat. After a bit of chatting, we went inside a small dining hall with three tables for lunch. We were separated by men and woman and sat down to eat. I sat next to a nun who came to Georgia from Ukraine who seemed very curious about what kind of bread I liked (black bread, in case you’re wondering). We were given some much appreciated hot soup, fish, potato salad and wine.

Cuddling in the rain to keep warm!

The wine was quite gross, but my deda told us that it was special wine and very healthy. All of sudden Melissa felt nauseous and desperately needed water but all our glasses were filled to the brim with horrible wine. So what does a friend do? I quickly guzzled down my wine so Melissa could have a glass for water. Yes, it tasted like dirt and leaves but I was no longer cold and Melissa did not end up vomiting on the Mamou.

Our walk back down the mountain was cut short when we hitch-hiked a ride home with a family from Samtredia. Melissa and I squeezed into a car where three adults and three children were already sitting (it was a tight fit to say the least).

Once we were finally home I cannot even explain how wonderful it felt to put on a cozy pair of sweatpants and crawl under the covers of my bed. Pure coziness has got to be one of the most underrated feelings in the world.

Hiking in heels (and some paw prints)

Animals pose for me

Spirits for spirits

Instead of a simple Saturday lunch of bread, cheese and yesterdays leftovers, the other day I enjoyed a supra-style feast. After a short Frogger -style car ride to the village (picture the car weaving in and around cows and ducks for ten minutes) we arrived at the lovely home of Melissa’s host cousin Lela.

As soon as we opened the car door, we were greeted by Melissa’s little cousins: the adorable eight-year-old Tica and her blonde and blue eyed, ten-year-old sister Mari (both sported cute, new haircuts). We were instantly brought upstairs to sit on a couch while three other female family members laid a feast out before our eyes. Of course, since Melissa and I were guests, we could not help at all (but Melissa did find time to accidentally break poor little Tica’s sparkly, new barrette).

Our Saturday supra feast! (And this is only half the food...)

This supra was special because it was in honor of two family members who had died within the year, and all efforts were made to memorialize them. The Georgian Orthodox religion is very spiritual, and m many believe that a special feast like this one will attract the souls of these deceased members to come to the table. Because of this, only the favorite foods of the two family members were made for the meal and special candles were placed in numerous dishes. Finally, a bowl of scented, wooden ashes (simulating the ashes of the two family members) was placed on the floor.

While a meal like this sounds like it would be somber, the mood was very light-hearted. All the food was divine (though I mostly ate salad; it’s such a treat when it’s placed on the table) and all the wine was made that week by the family themselves! Melissa’s host-dad Koka was the tamada (toastmaster) and he made various toasts in memory of the two family members and also of lovely things like world peace and good health to all fourteen of us supra guests.

After several toasts (meaning various glasses of wine) Koka asked Melissa and I to lead a toast. We both first looked at each other a bit dumb-founded and then Melissa proudly said, “To pomodori, ketri da puri!” (To tomatoes, cucumbers and bread!) Maybe it’s because Georgians are nice people, but they all seemed to really love Melissa’s toast and cheered to it very enthusiastically.

Our spiritual lunch was filled with various blunders on both our parts. Melissa incessantly tried to toast with her left hand (you can only toast with your right) and I could not seem to keep my changali (fork) in my hand. I repeatedly dropped it on the floor. Lela’s father told me that in Georgian tradition, every time a fork is dropped on the floor that means another guest will come to the meal. So not only were the two souls of the family members coming, but also an entire other village because I dropped my fork 80 times.

Even worse, after one of the occasions where I dropped my fork, Lela stood up to get me a new one and accidentally knocked over the bowl of ashes. I mean, wow hello that cannot be a good omen. It was totally a throwback to Ben Stiller breaking the ashes vase in ‘Meet the Parents’. (No one seemed too offended though and my apology only resulted in me being given extra lemon cake).

Interestingly, there were several things that were discussed at the meal that I can’t imagine would ever be discussed over a huge family dinner in the United States. Koka began a discussion asking for advice on how he and his wife can better manage their budget. Both Melissa and I were surprised to hear financial matters like this being chatted about at the table. Furthermore, Lela told a story about how Levani (her 28-year-old brother) asked Koko (Melissa’s little host brother) to put in a good word for him to Melissa. Both Levani , Koko and Melissa were sitting right at the table though so I couldn’t help but find the whole situation a bit awkward. Lela seemed to sense my hesitation and replied, “Georgians keep no secrets from each other, everybody knows everything”. Well, I think it was Mark Twain who said, ‘the fewer secrets we keep, the less we need to remember’.

(from left) Nana (Melissa's host mom), Aunt Nino, Melissa and Koka (Melissa's host dad) sampling some homemade wine

 After we’d eaten and drank more than a bit of homemade wine, Melissa and I thought it would be a good idea to play ‘monkey in the middle’ with Koko, Mari and Tica.

Tip: after drinking wine, you should not play games with children that involve running around and throwing balls.

The whole afternoon was really quite wonderful though. It was so nice to meet more of Melissa’s host family; everyone seemed so happy and grateful that we are teaching English here in Georgia (especially Levani). When we piled into the car to go home, Lela’s mom even made sure that we got two huge doggy bags. One was filled with khachapuri and various cakes and the other was filled with fruit from the family’s backyard. Finally, a huge container of wine was brought to the car. (I’m talking like, the same size containers of the Gatorade dispensers at the Superbowl).

Surely, I am going to have to hardcore amp-up my running routine here in Samtredia. A few miles a day is just not going to cut it when all this delicious, godly food and 30 gallons of wine are placed in front me.

I have a new motto, ‘the more I run: the more cheese I can eat’.

No love for Elizabeth Taylor

It’s quite possible that my host sister Nini is the most adorable fourteen-year-old in all of Georgia. I never quite know what she is thinking or what is going to come out of her mouth but I’m always entertained by her interesting responses.

Nini is very interested in films and celebrities, so last week while I was tutoring her in English we were reading and discussing a few passages about famous movie stars. She was reading a short paragraph about Elizabeth Taylor and absolutely could not understand what the phrase “she was married eight times” meant. Nini said to me, “In America people can have many husbands?”

I told her that Elizabeth Taylor fell in love with eight different men at eight separate times and was married to each one of them for a little bit. Nini was floored. She could not understand how someone could find eight people to marry. She explained to me that in Georgia, people only have one spouse, maybe two if “something bad happens”. I literally had to draw Nini a timeline of Elizabeth Taylor’s marriages for her to be able to conceptualize the notion of being married eight times.

Once Nini understood she turned to me and said, “We don’t like her okay?”
“Okay,” I obliged, “but who do we like?”
“Mmm,” Nini sat pondering, “Shakira, Marilyn Monroe and Nini Badurashvili”.

During this same lesson, Nini confessed to me how frustrating it is that when people talk about movie stars, they only name American actors or American films. “Always America! Why not Georgia or Italy or France!” I think it upset Nini that while she can name many American musicians, I can barely name one Russian or Georgian musical artist.

She has asked me what people in America say about Georgia and I told her that most people in America don’t know very much at all about her country. You could practically see the sadness in her eyes when I said this. Georgians know so much about the United States, and that feeling seems to be in no way reciprocated.

Plus, it’s heartbreaking to tell a hopeful child that the reason no one knows her favorite Georgian idols has to do with economics and world power. Part of me wants to explain to Nini that because America is a very developed country, many companies have the resources to produce high quality films (or musical albums) with mass appeal and later distribute them all over the world. Plus, 300 million people live in America as opposed to the 4.6 million who live in Georgia. Another part of me just wants to avoid this conversation though and keep the remaining hopefulness in Nini’s eyes.

I tried to get our conversation optimistic by telling Nini that the winner of a popular American reality show about fashion design (Project Runway, season six) was Georgian, and that one of the best actors in ‘Wanted’ (that action film with Angelina Jolie and Morgan Freeman) was Georgian too!

Thankfully, Nini is not full of angst, and instead of getting upset by my lack of knowledge of Georgian entertainers she merely spent two hours filling me in on the hottest Georgian celebrities, Georgian fashion designers and Georgian musical artists.

So you can forget Marc Jacobs and Britney Spears, it’s all about Bichola and Tata Vardanishvili.

Escape of the sacrificial sheep

Sheepie enjoying some solitude in our yard. (His face has been hidden to prevent attachment).

I came home the other day and was greeted with a nice loud “baaaa” from a new guest that was hanging out in front of the house. A sheep grazing in my family’s yard did not surprise me too much; there have been a few incidents in the past month where chickens or cows have stumbled into the yard. I like to pretend they’re entranced by the sound of the drill coming from my deda’s dental office. (One time, I even looked out the window and saw a cow sniffing all the different socks and underwear that were drying on the clothesline outside. Since that day, I have hung my clothes from the balcony).

This particular sheep was an exception to all the other straggler barnyard animals who tried to succumb to the Siren song of the drill. This sheep (who will henceforth be referred to as Sheepie) was especially chosen to be sacrificed to God.

When I first heard this I was a bit uneasy about the whole situation. I was a vegetarian before coming to Georgia and now I find myself listening to the “baas” of an animal that has a defined expiration date. I briefly considered setting Sheepie free but am not sure a sheep could escape very far. (Well maybe if I sheared it, and died its fur blue it could be disguised for a bit of time, but this idea seems faulty).

From what I’ve gathered (and its possible I may have slightly misunderstood) the Georgian Orthodox practice of animal sacrifice is actually quite beautiful. Sheepie will be given to God in honor of Levan, my neighbor’s son who was killed six years ago. Levan’s parents have built him a church a few hours from Samtredia and when the church is finished, Sheepie will be walked around it three times and then slaughtered to thank God for all the blessings in life. All of the workers who helped build the church as well as poor members in the community will be invited to a celebration where Sheepie will be eaten and God will be praised.

I was happy to know that Sheepie would not be killed in vain; he will feed the poor and provide a nutritious meal for those who could not afford one. Plus, it is a blessing for Sheepie to be sacrificed to God, so hopefully there will be some perks for Sheepie in sheep heaven.


Sheepie is tricky though. When I came home from school, he ran outside the gate as soon as I opened it. So off I went, chasing after him, shouting in Georgian for him to stop and come over. For a split second I felt like a border collie on a mission to herd my flock of one. When I finally caught Sheepie, I hugged him in the middle of the road and tried to drag him home by holding him in a headlock. (Clearly I have had no experience dealing with escapee barnyard animals on death row). Thankfully, one of my deda’s dental patients watched the whole ordeal unfold while sitting in the dentist’s chair and ran over to help (complete with a little toothpaste froth on his lips).

Sheepie has integrated his way into my daily life. He is my natural alarm clock. Every morning he sits outside my window and incessantly baas. It is less than pleasant, but it does get me out of bed. Some nights he even sits outside my window and baas until midnight or later. I have been quite lucubratious (I think that’s a real word) planning activities for my students simply because I cannot sleep with Sheepie professing a soliloquy to me outside my window as if I am Shakespeare’s Juliet.

The whole situation only gets more complicated because I am reading Paul Coelho’s “The Alchemist”, a book about a shepherd, where sheep are written about in such a way that they seem to have humanistic qualities. I am trying hard to view Sheepie as an animal that’s serving a higher purpose in life so it will be less sad for me when he’s gone. On the bright side, at least after Sheepie hits the bucket, I will get to use the snooze button on my alarm clock. I'll take ZZZs over baas any day.

Samtredia and the City

Saghamo mshvidobisa (good evening) Tbilisi!

 Originally, all four of us Samtredia girls had big plans for the weekend. Tara had her heart set on Batumi, Emily was to go off to a nearby village and stomp grapes, and Melissa and I were practically packed to go to a grape harvest in far-away Kakheti. But alas, would you believe that somehow all of our plans fell through last minute! No matter, we all decided that this would be a perfect weekend to explore Tbilisi: the beautiful, capital city of Georgia.

Our journey started off in the most adorable way possible. Tara’s bebia made us a packed lunch full of apples and yummy sulguni (pickled cheese) and mchadi (Georgian corn bread) sandwiches. We decided to take the train because it left right from Samtredia and the director of the railroad even personally went on to the train to make sure “the American girls” had the right tickets. Talk about service! The entire five and a half hour journey ended up being quite enjoyable. We chatted pretty much the whole way and snacked on some Georgian animal crackers (which by the way include koala bears and owls in addition to your classic wild animals and barnyard friends. I was thoroughly excited).

Emily's first time riding a train!

Goofing off in our assigned seats.

After arriving in Tbilisi we settled in to a home stay on the historic Marjanishvilli Street. Our host mom was a kooky old retired teacher named Dodo who asked us to pay one million lari a night and managed to charm and scare us at the exact same time. Dodo’s courtyard was really what won me over though. Picture lots and lots of blossoming fruit teas and several patio chairs and tables to sit at. It felt like a secret garden only better because Dodo said we could eat anything we liked.

After freshening up a bit, we were whisked off for a night on the town with some of Tara’s Georgian friends that she met when she landed in Tbilisi. They drove us all over the city and excitedly pointed out and explained different sites and landmarks (and marveled whenever we attempted to speak Georgian). For dinner they took us to a wonderful, loud Georgian restaurant with live music. We ate delicious traditional Georgian food and had a few rounds of pepper vodka. Needless to say, we were a happy group. We danced to Georgian and Russian songs and even tried to sing our new favorite song by Alla Pugochova (though we don’t know the lyrics, so you can imagine how that sounded).

Our Georgian friends took us out for a night on the town!

We take life seriously.

The following day we ambitiously awoke at 6:30 am (after just three hours of sleep) wanting to take in as much Tbilisi as we could. The problem that we soon encountered however was that nothing seemed to open in the city until 11 in the morning. No bother, we wandered the streets mentally bookmarking cafes and shops to check out later in the weekend and got a brief tour of the synagogue of Tbilisi after befriending a man in a yarmulke. 

Outside the Tbilisi synagogue!

 We almost cried tears of joy when we found an adorable, open coffee shop that sold ice coffee (a teeny luxury from the United States that we do not have in our sweet little Samtredia). Later, as we walked through the capital city, whenever a native English speaker heard us chatting, they approached us and wanted to know what we were doing in Georgia and how much we loved the country. It was wonderful to have that camaraderie of language with pure strangers (I’ve done a lot of traveling, but only in Georgia have I experienced this feeling). We even bumped into the advisor to the prime minister while eating some lunch, and were wholeheartedly welcomed into the country. Throughout the day I really felt proud to be both an American and to be spending the year in Georgia.

Melissa and Charlie

Tbilisi is really a wonderful city. The architecture is beautiful, and there seems to be a lot of richness and history enveloped in almost all the streets. Plus, as historic as Tbilisi feels, it also seems incredibly modern with contemporary buildings and a state of the art glass bridge.

Beautiful Tbilisi!

My favorite thing about the city is that there’s an outdoor art market right in one of the parks. At this art market, there are probably close to a hundred artists selling beautiful paintings, sculptures, scarves and tapestries. It felt like being in a museum, except that every piece was up for sale. We spent a lot of time admiring different paintings and telling the various artists how beautiful their artwork was. We also strategically began planning how we could take a four foot by four foot painting back to the states.

The outdoor art market I loved so much.

We even got to meet up with other friends from the TLG program. We all climbed the old fortress together and took some breathtaking photos. Granted I only climbed halfway because my fear of falling got to the best of me, but can you blame me for not liking the idea of being in a scenario where there is a possibility that I could plummet to my death?

Urban hiking to the top of the fortress.

We love each other.

The view from the top!

Later, we thoroughly embraced the diverse cuisine options in the city and splurged on sushi for dinner. Here we had an overzealous waitress that picked up every napkin my hand even grazed. (I swear I must have used twenty napkins because she would not let me keep one if it even had a thumbprint on it). We also met up with friends at a Moroccan bar for drinks and tea. But it was here that it finally dawned on us that we’d only had three hours of sleep. I was so tired I briefly considered using my teapot as a pillow. (It felt godly to go to sleep that night at Dodo’s house).

On our final morning in the city we got familiar with the Tbilisi metro which was only mildly terrifying. The escalator to go down to the metro appeared to be half a mile long and traveled at 50 miles per hour at an 80 degree angle. I had my eyes closed the whole time as I rode this Georgian roller-coaster. None the less, the ride was fast and cheap and much cleaner than the New York City subway. (Though I did miss not being able to count rats on the train tracks…)

As we sat down on the train home exhausted after our sleepless vacation, I became appreciative for the quaintness of Samtredia. In Tbilisi I was a little fish in a big pond, but in Samtredia everybody knows my name (insert the ‘Cheers’ theme getting stuck in your head) and eagerly greets me whenever they see me. Plus, chocolate bars in Samtredia are one fifth the price they are in the city. (And hello, a girl needs her chocolate).

Melissa pondering life at the top of the fortress.