The story of a Djigit love by Marta

We woke not so early as planed, after I had announced the day before to everybody that was still up on the fire bon that we were grateful for their hospitality and that they would never ever see us in their lives cause we where leaving before they could think of getting up. What is something common to me, talking too much. We got lost and I was about to collapse many times on the way, only the fear of being find by a wolf, and ending worse than the Israeli left by his wife kept me to reaching my destination. That and a bunch of deathly sugared sweets. Also that the mighty storm was prosecuting us. We so a sheppers hut and from there we could see a church, so we imagined that our hut would be after that hut. But we didn’t counted with the factor that the Georgian and English maps are different, end only the English send you to djigitlandia-lawless territory of putting candels out and killing sheeps as a pass time activity. Well in the so called hut (tambien conocido como chabolo inmundo en castellano) there was a shepper. I had not t-shirt on but just my sport underware, because of the effort already made, so as I saw him appearing I put it immediately. Well it started raining and he was fair enough to offer us cover for the rain. We stayed and he offered we could stay as long as we needed even to sleep there, but we told him we would go to the hut. He was discouraging and in the middle of the way his friend was there. They both came with us, first we had to visit the church, where I had to cover my head with a militar long coat from the man, while I was hopping not to need vinegar to was my hair afterwards. They destroyed the “young-sheep killers and knife showers” party by drinking all their chacha. They offered they would show me where the water place is and with a horse one of them and me where back to the church. There was raining so we stoped at the church. There afterwards came the other man. They didn’t treat me bad, apart from the uncomfortable passing me the arms over the shoulder, but I’m not stupid and when the second man came I went out of the church entrance where I was covering from the rain and I gave three times the two words I know, “water” and “here”, as they didn’t answered or way saying that we had to wait for the end of the rain or kind of that the water was further I told them I don’t understand and I went back walking. It was better so, one thing is one little ride and the other going to much far away alone. It was a savvy thing, because afterwards I became for Linda the translation of the “romantic” encounter that this midday cowboy wanted for me while putting out the candels and following the mountains rules where every familiar relationship should be through into the oblivium. But with Djigit words of bringing me back “safe??”. Well, poor Linda, being the only knowing Russian, had more strange and dangerous conversation with the too dubiouse educated mans, while calling the Rangers, that showed off kindly with two daisies, at an our when we could have been killed a couple of times already, sit themselves and started “chacha-ing”. Our beloved saviours!!!

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