Kazbegi
ყაზბეგი
Tsminda Sameba Church in Kazbegi
August 8, 2005
We got to the bus station in Tbilisi with Roland, our hired driver who helped us
get us on the right mini bus. Here we ran into Filipo, a flamboyantly gay Italian
man we had briefly met at the hostel the night before. We talked a little and waited
a lot for the minibus to fill up.
Once filled and on the road I almost immediately fell asleep, I had slept no more
than a couple hours the night before and I don’t think I've caught up from the
overnight flight from Istanbul. After only occasionally waking up to find our driver
nearly driving us off this cliff or that one, we found ourselves in Kazbegi.
We grabbed our stuff and headed out into the rain to find our place on the other
side of the river, actually in Gergeti village, not Kazbegi. The home we were trying
to get was booked so we stayed next door, unfortunately a guy we had met in Tbilisi
also found his way here earlier in the day.
The next door neighbor, Vano decided he would show us around. Soon our group split
up and I found myself with the better half of the group: Elizabeth and Filipo. The
two talked as I let my mind wonder, thinking about how the mountains to me are a
place of peace, solitude, and a destination to discover one’s self. This time alone
was the best thing for me and I simply made no effort to socialize. The scenery
was beautiful and the air perfect and thin.
Tsminda Sameba Church & Mt. Kazbek
We stopped at a store as I wandered off on my own, but I found the others soon following
me. As I looked across the river to Gergeti village and Tsminda Sameba Church I
turned around to find the other four talking to a woman and her daughter. I found
them speaking Russian.
Vano seemed to have little interested and soon got snubbed out of the conversation
as Elizabeth dominated the conversation until we got an invite to their house. At
their house, we were joined by the father and son; all very nice and the father
soon had the cognac and wine out as the mother had dishes upon dishes of food for
her unexpected guests.
Before I could explain that I was not feeling well I had a glass of homemade cognac
in front of me and a plate full of traditional Georgian foods. The cognac was as
good as possible in my state, and the home made wine that was later brought out
was better. For food we had cake, a thick and heavy dessert that consisted of cheese,
potato, and dough, and the Kazbegi “national” dessert which was another thick cake,
semi sweet and really unique. All were good and absolutely essential at the time,
considering we all had no food in our stomachs, but about three or four shots of
cognac and another two shots of wine.
The time was very pleasant and my Russian struggled to return for the first few
minutes. The conversation was intermittently interrupted by toasts, of course the
first to the guest, the second to the hosts, the third to women and the final toast
to the horse. I believe this is done in the assumption that the drinkers are so
drunk they must put their faith in their horse to get them home... a Russian tradition.
We learned a lot about them including the fact that the daughter, Tamara is a designer
and has designed shoes for both Susan Sarandon and Donald Trump’s wife.
The conversation was light and easy, until Jim decided to ask what the Caucus people
think of each other. We unfortunately translated this question after his incessant
nagging. The father responded that they were all friend, including the Azeri's
and Armenians; he said that the arguments were based upon historical conflicts and
political debates. Jim argued that this was a lie and that the people hate each
other. Thank God he doesn’t speak Russian; instead of translating his comment I
simple told them that Jim didn't understand, since he read differently in books.
Tamara pointed out that the conflict is not between the people or even the politics
but in Russian involvement, which messes everything up based upon religion and relations
politically with Russia.
After the cognac and wine were finished we saw the backyard, with numerous pear
trees and a couple apple trees. Unfortunately the family is only in Kazbegi the
month of August so never actually gets to eat the fruit since they return to Tbilisi
by the time they are ripe.
We bid them farewell, however before leaving I invited them to climb to the church
with us the next day. We had dinner waiting for us at the house, then after lighting
candles (we had no electricity) we got ready for bed and went to sleep.
Mt. Kazbek
August 9, 2005
This morning I was again feeling ill so skipped out early during breakfast and ran
to the bathroom. We stopped to get the neighbor girl who also planned to join us
on our trek, but she was quite drunk the night before and had some problems getting
up so we had to wait about 15 minutes for her as her son took my camera and snapped
some pictures.
We then went to Kazbegi and picked up our new friends. For most of the hike I walked
with Tamara and we talked about everything. She is not only a designer, she also
does paintings on colored glass that cost 100 Euros each. She seems extremely talented
and I hope she sees most of the money that is paid for her art. She works out of
her house and sells her art either out of her house/studio, through another store
in Tbilisi or in a store in New York, the one that the two above mentioned celebrities
bought her shoes.
Tamara told me about her grandfather, who planted all the trees in the region, all
the forests around the church and Kazbegi. He spent most of his life planting the
forests so is appropriately buried near them beside a stream of mountain water.
Tamara also hates bees so I quickly learned the Georgian word for bee, “bziki,”
which I rather like. The conversation for much of the time was simple and unforced.
Tamara, however kept stopping to talk to me, making us fall further and further
behind the rest of the group until we were completely isolated.
The walk was great and ended with the final ridge leading to the church. The views
from here were incredible and this is the perspective of the stereotypical picture
representing Georgia.
We walked to the church, which was more impressive as a stately figure than as a
church itself. Before entering we had to walk around the building three times in
a counter clockwise direction then cross ourselves three times from left to right,
kiss the door frame and enter.
They told us of the icons, some of the many representing the Virgin Mary, St. George,
and various others, but the one that I found the most impressive was made of material,
which was sown together. The church’s interior was bland other than the icons and
only a beam of light from the steeple lit the interior. There was also a monk and
a picture of the bishop of the church, a man originally from Kazbegi, but now living
in Mtskheta at the center of the church.
The girls were required to wear skirts and cover their heads and shoulders, whereas
I was alright with simply my shorts and t-shirt. We lit candles and while I kept
mine there, Tamara took hers after letting it burn for a short while, a tradition
not uncommon.
Tomb near Tsminda Sameba Church
Upon exiting the church we ran into a group from Israel; a man, who fell in love
with the region 25 years earlier who was returning with his daughter and son-in-law.
They were all nice and the son seemed particularly interested in Tamara’s work.
He said that it looks like the art of Gaudy. As I was translating this, his father-in-law
put his arm around Tamara and said that it was the greatest compliment she would
ever receive. I again translated and then he froze and said that I didn’t understand;
he explained that he was an art history major and specialized in the work of Gaudy
and he has never seen anything so well done since Gaudy himself. Tamara didn’t know
how to respond, so immediately gave the man her number and told him to call if he
was interested in buying anything.
The walk back was confusing as we all got separated. Tamara’s mom began picking
every tea flower she could find along with spices for a local-turned-national dish,
khinkali. They explained to me that khinkali is a Kazbegi dish and only in Kazbegi
can one get true khinkali.
I also learned about their family history, the mother's father was Polish and
mother Estonian, but of course they communicated in Russian. After her father died,
her mother re-married a German and they moved to Central Asia for work. After a
few years there they moved to Georgia, which is where she learned Georgian and met
her husband, who is originally from Kazbegi. Because of this, the family has three
houses. The two grandparents from Kazbegi left houses, grandfather’s in Gergeti
village and grandmother’s in Kazbegi along with their permanent residence in Tbilisi.
They were extremely nice and invited us back any time. They encouraged me to return
next year. The son also really wants to climb Mt. Kazbek and we agreed that if and
when I return we would climb it, stopping at the cave church on the way.
As we made our way back into the village there seemed to be goats and other random
animals everywhere. Before leaving them we followed Georgian tradition and kissed
each other once left cheek to left cheek. It was sad to see them go, but we needed
to be off.
We checked out we returned to Kazbegi to get our bus, which was to leave a half
hour later. It then changed to three hours later and soon to four hours. We simply
didn’t have enough people interested in going to Tbilisi at the moment so had to
wait until it filled up. We had little patience and instead of paying 8 lari each
we decided to take a taxi for 12 lari each.
A man sitting on a cliff overlooking Kazbegi
The town of Gereti