tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20669119380839094362024-02-19T17:48:24.521+03:00Linda and Marta in Borjomihachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-14210145766680112492009-09-18T14:28:00.003+04:002009-12-27T04:53:59.207+03:00Goodbye Borjomi, Goodbye mi friend!This is the end. As always there is an end. So from my side this end was yesterday. Yesterday I went away from Borjomi, in the fronteer I had to pay 20 dollars. Fucking capitalismus! So in that boarder, instead of have also the prices in the currencies of the boarder too there is only in dollars?? puag. Anyway, I give 40 lari, where I could have give 25, because I had the two options of money. But no, as always I don't think. The bank man looked at me nice, because he would not give me any lari back or equivallent for the extra money I'm sure I payed. So after running in the rain twice, because of having to put visa to say goodbye to Georgia and visa to say hello to Turkey, thinking on when I cross my beloved bridge over the Rhin between Germany and France like nothing and here with nationalists flags of the same colour and tall metal fences, we entered the new country. I changed churches for moschees in the landscape, but the flag was still present every where. <br /><br />Why do we need flags to know where we are? I know I'm in the world, the rest I don't care. Then from 9 in Borjomi till 7 in Istanbul I only heared Bony M and Greek traditional music. So please, Greek people, stay away from me for a while or I'll bite you, jejeje. I ended quite far from the center, but I didn't wanted to take a taxi, I found a shopping center where only the guard was open and let me get some money from cash withdrawal. Then a man with a bus, who only speaked turkis said he take me to the metro station but he stopped at the end of street, making endless questions that I could not responde. So I apologized, went out and found a woman with her dog. He resulted to be another spelled sepharad descendant. And I ended in a taxi to the Sultanhamet neighbourghood.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-4309224987245727972009-09-01T21:30:00.008+04:002009-09-08T19:18:26.773+04:00The agressivity of the Marschrutka drivers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmef22l6xiMKJz5EGVIC83_IRHgyTAVmm7MSY_iJZ-DT_1M8KUEcIy0pId5H3PuLuzl0uhQmUatpFxzMIWLcjSMlJYMM0KGKRrqlWaNzo2oprILKzJOFqofWuJ87iRyqRUHgHG9kzsp_Y/s1600-h/tblisi3.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmef22l6xiMKJz5EGVIC83_IRHgyTAVmm7MSY_iJZ-DT_1M8KUEcIy0pId5H3PuLuzl0uhQmUatpFxzMIWLcjSMlJYMM0KGKRrqlWaNzo2oprILKzJOFqofWuJ87iRyqRUHgHG9kzsp_Y/s320/tblisi3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376560695250627906" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zum_MhCRPe_1kWIIErky_vMA-9A6oEOY0h3rFKc5nI9997fPjg8eCMAdgRfjO0YBuFHJuiKuHgKwosQiTDFBEtUlvZ_twL8rVUJtrybs2Gm0ObQLBZux4EhPmx1SJClJuyEEL0dO0m0/s1600-h/tblisi2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zum_MhCRPe_1kWIIErky_vMA-9A6oEOY0h3rFKc5nI9997fPjg8eCMAdgRfjO0YBuFHJuiKuHgKwosQiTDFBEtUlvZ_twL8rVUJtrybs2Gm0ObQLBZux4EhPmx1SJClJuyEEL0dO0m0/s320/tblisi2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376559238204632130" /></a><br /><br />We went in the morning to the botanical garden, which has a nice waterfall. It looked to me like beeing in Italy again and they even had Pinsapos, an special tree from Spain. Then we went to a big lake to have some bath, where Stefania was kind of disturbed by a young guy which first words where: I don't like piercings in the girls (who asked you for opinion, turd?)And we saw what I would like to call the "Religion-stargate cube". A massive cube telling the religious story of georgian on the top of a hill (or that seemed to me, but I didn't research more about it), which could be the christian version of the famous interconnect portal of the Stargate film. Then when comming back to our "homestay". A man came inside the Marschrutka, say something to the conductor and this got so angry that wanted to spell the man from his out by kicking his face when he was already laying half outside of the car, after the previous punching and neck-graving fight. We where all shocked, I thought, what can possibly say a man in 3 seconds that leads to this gratuite demostration of violence? coming back at the place, the hosters learned from our lonely planet book, that they could ask 30 lari to the next buch of tourists instead of 20, like they did to us. What they don't seemed to realize is that you need an improvement on your bed and sofa, not window, fool of ugly&scary dolls, not to mention there was almost no blanked room. But they where nice persons to stay at.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxt-Jpgd-E89KdYBaQ2JYsJJaglM216Xbq08fHijgL_02azM8NKO-zaTXnKaA1Rh-EaqzAv63_XHRpIV3vx94XCXUQ9j86mE7U1lGszEgF8drdzoSxrSqF1YbNKGTGdP4N-bNjpb5mms/s1600-h/tblisiwaterfall"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 215px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxt-Jpgd-E89KdYBaQ2JYsJJaglM216Xbq08fHijgL_02azM8NKO-zaTXnKaA1Rh-EaqzAv63_XHRpIV3vx94XCXUQ9j86mE7U1lGszEgF8drdzoSxrSqF1YbNKGTGdP4N-bNjpb5mms/s320/tblisiwaterfall" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376558225020998130" /></a>hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-12704075780339048242009-09-01T20:47:00.004+04:002009-09-08T19:42:07.758+04:00Queen Tamar-ta of Sakartvelo.We got up really early, arround 6, well I sleep a couple of minutes more by Gio the ranger and Omart where destroyed, after having party with local shepperds the night before. But we had a long journey for us. We came up to the shepers place where they had a truck fool of goat cheese and there where like 10 dogs. Then we continued and ended at another shepher's house, where I was the only woman amoung 10 guys, except for the russian poster of britney spears hanging on the door. I though, yeah, somehow realistic that britney had the remote idea to cross this paramount through one day. Well we cook some of the mushroms delicatessen, the ones that are the most difficult to find in their opinion I guess and some fried cheese. But they just through all kind of rubish direct after their table on the front door, which for me was like to say. Come on, I know here up you cannot take a recycling track, but still some autos reach hear, why don't you just accumulate it somewhere together so that you don't have to see this shit every meal. But they seemed not to be disturbed from that views, even when the further views, where the ones of gorgeous mountains. We left and they gave me the rest of the mushrooms in a plastic bag, which whe had to hang from my bag even when it was pouring oil. Then I had to throw away my bag twice, to save some terrain level, so the mushrooms passed to a happier life in the middle of the meadows. We saw some frog eggs, that looked like tschurtschela to me (tschurtschela is something traditional here, basically nuts covered with some cooled grape juice like caramel). Some other shepherd gave the ranger a pair of homemade nunchaco. I wondered why possibly you need that in the middle of nowhere, maybe for beating "kung foo panda" And then we entered a place where the brown bears like to eat framboises, there where rests of their digestion every 10 meters. Also some archeological founds, about how the Georgians used to put the wine. In the museum we read that they re-used some burials for that, so I was wandered if that could be the case. Then I falled inside the river why crossing it with my big bag, so we had a bunch of laughts. I called myself queen tamar, cause that day it was really nice to see, how they where all concerned about what I should learn, like the names of trees and they gave me flowers, so I ended with a bunch of things in hand. Last but not the least, I saw my first live viper. I like snakes, but seeing how difficult was to differencite her from the stone, made me thing I should mind my steps more next time I trek around. We ended pushing the car, till the petrol station. They wanted me to stay seat in the auto, cause as a woman I should not do such an effort. But I gained the sex battle, jumped out of the car and share a funny moment of running after a lada niva.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-83835866092655848012009-08-29T20:27:00.003+04:002009-09-08T19:44:11.624+04:00“Te quiero puta” (ramstein) or 2 days trekking in Abastumani... by Marta<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rIkeHJI6-fs&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rIkeHJI6-fs&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />So after sleeping 4 hours I met Tango. Who happened to be with two friends, one of them called Omart, his girlfriend lives in Madrid, cause she plays the violin and works for the church. Another called Nikos, but I’m not sure after 2 days about his name. It started as always with the Marschrutka driver, after assisting to a punching action in Tblisi, here the man started to shout every second because of the trank door. In Abastumani, a really nice place, cosy with Rusian style houses, old sanatoriums and a hollywood style name at the top of the hill, we met Gio the ranger, who will be our helper for the GPS action. I was alone there with four georgian boys, the nightmare of every mother for its daughter?. Indeed it was great, we spend the whole way up stopping for little rest, which make it not so difficult and I learn a couple of new mushroms that are eatable and I found even the spanish ones (by that I mean the only ones I'm able to find myself, hear they are called fox-mushrooms). And after a big bag of mushroms we found the place to sleep, the hut, from where you could see the Abastumani observatory and where I was tried to be invited constantly to a "chota, chota" chacha, which I regreted one after another. Then one only know the words of "te quiero puta" from rammstein of Spanish, so we constantly said that and even called people so that I could tell them bad boys in georgian (Ajurebo). Anyway, as 3 of them were "drunked young guys without girlfriends" it was inevitable that they wanted to give a "try-o" to see if they could get something from me, by trying to blink their eyes at every possible eye-contact. But this time no church proposal arouse. By the way, the so called toillets here (vamos lo que el comun de los mortales denomina letrinas) are a hole in the ground and that want didn't had door, which is the best view you can have at some signaled events that take place inside them hehehe.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-78167531340441109092009-08-28T20:21:00.000+04:002009-09-01T20:26:36.880+04:00A short Visit to the cementery by MartaAfter resting a little from coming from Tblisi, my neighbourg Zura called me for a walk. We met a pair of friends of him, with a Lada and they asked if we wanted to go to the local church and afterwards to the Park. First in the church, we almost parked inside, although it was a really tiny place. And they introduced me to a couple local ways of behaving, like that woman should enter after man or that they cross different and what means the fingers by crossing. We came to visit the grave of the father of the guy. It was almost dark, so it is impresive to see how beautiful the moonshadow in cementery was. Then we came to the big wheel, all with the auto and afterwards to the rollercoaster and the pirate ship. Yeah, I bet hear people could take the auto to the toilet too. The attractions are though really primitive and sound as if they where about to broke. I watched a film from Guillermo del Toro when I came back home:Devil's backbone.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-64392437899052928482009-08-25T19:35:00.002+04:002009-08-25T19:44:29.670+04:00Linda: country of marriage-crazeYesterday Marta sat down with her notebook to write the annals of our Georgian stay history- this time on the topic "How many times we have received marriage (or other less decent) proposals up to now". After an hour or so of intense recalling we ended up with a list of 26 (!) cases. All that in just two months. A lot of choice, ain't it!<br /><br />All that despite our age that shocks most of Georgians (so much! can't be! and not married!), despite the fact that I am vegetarian , and we're not drinking wine (so what do you do in restaurant then?), have starnge religous views (flying spaghetti monster church mixed with buddhist)don't want any children yet (most women have children very early here), like to travel around alone (and not stay at home to serve the husband) and will never perceive all my husbands wishes as coming from God!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-7470414154372539502009-08-22T15:46:00.005+04:002009-08-22T15:58:25.042+04:00Linda: Top of the pops with Sikvaruli modis!This is the one that makes Marta and me break out in a dance in the middle of a street, in park, on bridge- anywhere we happen to be walking- singing out loudly "sikvaruli modis, sikvaruli shndeba, sikvaruli arahotesh tamtarteba daaaaaa" !!!!<br /><br />This is the one that we spent hours on trying to learn and even understand lyrics.<br /><br />This is the one that hightens our mood and therefore is being exploited at our home.<br /><br />This is the one that we hear in marshrurtkas on different routes.<br /><br />This is the one- Sikvaruli modis by Nino Chkheidze! :)<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6_53rrDqIM4&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6_53rrDqIM4&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-18717766612144049772009-08-22T15:17:00.001+04:002009-08-22T15:38:51.134+04:00Linda: Surprisingly cheesy GeorgiaA dirt-road village, of which I even do not know the name, somewhere near the border of Armenia hosts a metal container in some magical way brought here from France. And that container contains fully equipped French cheese factory, with Camambert and Roquefort ripening on shelves in neat rows.<br /><br />This is in Georgia, where during these two months I have found no other cheese as simple salty and sour home-made cheese and a bit tastier sulguni or smoked variety of sulguni.<br /><br />I asked the cheese master- is there any demand for these cheeses in Georgia? Yes, some people, who live in Tbilisi and Batumi.<br /><br />The cheese masters some time ago had decided that to make their own business in Georgia, they need to learn the skills, so they borrowed money from all friends and neighbours who had at least some and invested it in going to France and working for a cheese factory there. In the factory they kept their eyes and ears open and in a year had mastered the trade and made contacts with equipment suppliers. Bought the container with good credit terms and brought it to Georgia. The first cheeses are getting ripe on shelves, but debt is still larger than any income generated. Their hope- the change of cheese prefferences of affluent Tbilisians.<br /><br />I was generously given a present of this rotten cheese, and must say- truly enjoyed it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-7903071650125227142009-08-20T17:01:00.002+04:002009-08-20T17:16:16.964+04:00By the way, I have a song of your age by MartaYes, the tipical order of questioning here:<br />1.How old are you?<br />2. Are you married?<br />3. So my (son, nephew, cousin's son, neighbourg, backer...) is your age.<br />Hehehe, I was inside the Post office and an armenian worker wanted that I meet tomorrow his son. So many "painful" years (except for the last 2)of not being loved and the solution was as easy as coming to Georgia. Better than in other places where they would like to buyme for camels or goats. I preffer being given "gifts" hehehe. Poor guy, his father don't mind his opinion, he wants to liiert him with the first stranger that comes his way hehehe. Anyway, I just thank it and tried to say that probly he has a nice son, but I'm I didn't come here for any deal, but for write a report (yuuhuuu!)hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-8334782713137666852009-08-15T17:03:00.000+04:002009-08-16T17:19:16.445+04:00In Ushguli, UNESCO heritage's highest inhabited european town by Marta<a href="http://www.prospettive.it/Cardelli_2007/Ushguli.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 600px; height: 450px;" src="http://www.prospettive.it/Cardelli_2007/Ushguli.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I rent a Jeep with a girl from eslovaquia, who currently works at Brussels european commision, her boyfriend from czesch rep. and some hungarian guy. This jeep was a Lada Niva, so it was quite strech inside. And because of the road quality, you needed 3h for 65 km, up in one of the most remote parts of the caucasus. This towers in the town are amazing, and we went till the very base of the glacier, with a couple of imponent white mountains upon us. It was a tiring day but delightful. It seemed that there would be no free plane on Monday, but insted some cheap 25 Laris on Tuesday. It is too late so I decide to departure tomorrow at 5am. Ihad to say goodbye to my 2 nights, no english speakers but great understandings family. Irina, the mother and teacher of the town, invited me to some Matsoni(yogurt) and the father, who is also teacher and ingeneer, was amussed trying to find a Spanish channel on the satellite. Again the question of that the Basque Region people are Iberians rised up. I still don't know where I missed my history lessons, wheren the iberians not suposed to live near the mediterranean see? well it was really beautiful to see all those towers iluminated at the evening against the dark shape of tall mountains.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-29844925441989886382009-08-06T21:38:00.002+04:002009-08-07T21:49:41.425+04:00bathing in the river by MartaI was yesterday in the river. I meet dito there. he has saw me now a great place to go and have a bath, so I will use it the rest of the stay here.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-5229077410422182492009-08-02T22:11:00.002+04:002009-08-16T17:00:00.994+04:00I saw a death snake by MartaYesterday Linda left to Tblisi and me and the two swiss friends went to see a lake, it was a great lake with nebel, it was like been in Sweden. We saw a death snake, black one, and I still trying to find out which sneak is this.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-16071109811822480872009-07-28T19:12:00.002+04:002009-07-29T19:17:29.020+04:00lazy day ends even lazier by martaToday it rained. We went to the office, but with the boys from Swiss here we came back earlier, cause they promised again to cook for us. And then after vardzia we were all in the mood of just reading and laying. pretty good. At the evening I decided to explor the up town, cause I want to know more the city. It endet up when I saw a man, over the bridge, walking with his two asian sepherd dogs chatting with his friend. That could be nothing out of the blue if it weren't for a big detail. they were driving in the auto. So I thought, pretty much lazy endeed.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-51317683803818751652009-07-22T18:32:00.000+04:002009-07-22T18:38:52.460+04:00The Jehova witnessess are like mushroms by Martathey appear where you less wait for them to be there. I was walking today to see the door of Sakashwilli summer palace, formerly used by stalin and the Romanov family. Where to nice mid-agged woman, came to me and said hello and showed me a book. I tried to scape, saying I don't understand although I could well recognized this poor ink impression that characterices those books. But it would not be so easly, they had one book more to show, where you could pick up your language this time. the only thing that they wanted although was to know my name and to present themselves, so I could continue with my matutine stroll.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-16963421806791487432009-07-19T20:29:00.003+04:002009-07-19T20:41:44.446+04:00If Sunday it is the day of the lord, what are we doing at the office by MartaDon't worry, although some people work on Sunday here, we are just pushing further our blog to keep you fresh with our latest news. I was today in the Waterpark, because I decided not to spoil a marvelous sunnyday being in the internet. So I went to the so called termal bad, which ended to something similar to a green radiactive pond where many people where overloading the carry capacity of the place. At least the river was next to it, so I decided to have a bath there, though the pond it was so how sentimentally related to me, cause at my mothers Home town, we have kind of similar thing in bigger size. A what a memories of childhood, drinking some water from that river was risking 2 days of several diahorrea that it somehow skipped a couple of years. Even one year someone had the great idea of letting open the cleanning above the river so we could see how the place turned from green into deep brown. I miss going there to bath dough. WEll after my 3 km excursion not having it on the whole day I decided to ad one hachapuri more to my stomach when Dito called, because he was at the office with Linda and they kind of asked themselves where I was, due to I said linda I would be there in a couple of ours, but I used my spanish-georgian joker and it turned out to be 5 hours. At least I have ended with the balkan management paper. I cheated somehow, cause I skip a couple of pages but shhh, don't tell Linda, hehehe. Well I realized today by reading his blog that the american guy james was here for a couple of days while we were in the mountains, what a pity!hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-69725810145185653202009-07-18T20:27:00.000+04:002009-07-19T20:29:41.612+04:00Home sweet Home by MartaToday we got up and it was cleanning day, well before cleaning that linda took more seriously than me, I went to the shop and as sometimes my saviour german/georgorwellian book was sleeping at home a little bit more, so armed with my 3 numbers ori(2), chuti(5) and schwiteri?(7) I came inside different shops and buyed tomatoes, potatoes and toilette paper (I’m so getting used to this recycled carecing touch on my bottom that I even choosed to buy it in a store where there were only two left of this type and the others where normal) after always not beeing sure of how many laris should I get in return? Then back home, cleaning, bla, bla... I decided to go for water to the place after the big ruinous soviet building and when I was passing through the “bus hangar” then there mouth clatching american was there, wasn’t he suposed to be already out of town 2 days ago? How many days can this guy sleep at the train station? Well I just barely say good travel because he had a food almost in his already runing “marschrutka”. Coming back from the fountain, Artur was on the information place so I came to say hello, there was a couple of Schottisch people. Later on I show polnish ones and we introduced ourselves to them. I tried to continue the blog on the information shelter, but Artur was downloading classical music from Lisz. Not my day to “robbery” his internet so we came to the internet cafe where after a couple of hours I get nervous of how many time I spend there and not beeing jumping outside in the park. The bad issue was the somehow confusing news about russian troops starting to “touch me the member”(for spanish people) or to say it normal to be forcing the situation (or maybe are the georgian ones? I don’t now) but let’s see tomorrow. The old woman in the internet cafe is great, we have long chats without words, cause I don’t understand what she says but I find her really amusing. I forgot my glases so I had to do the same way twice. I came to the didi moedani, or the way how I tried to explain main square, but insted of one and a half hours, we had spend 3h in internet, so there was no trace of the polnish bunch. Then I thought in the minutes that would take linda to come up and meet me, I could buy me an ice cream to find out that linda had come up with the same thought. Sometimes I see this funny connections but not all the times I say Linda, cause then I enjoy them without sounding that that’s not true. Linda wanted to go home, but I’m more in my sauce being outside on warm summer nights so I decided to drove myself to the park, to see if I found the polnish people or dito, but all the kiosks in the park are yellow and I’m quite shy sometimes so I just tried to spot from the way. Seeing nothing I decided to go first further to the waterpark and enjoy the delightful situaltion of the people sitting outside. But when I was a couple of meters away from the entrance something exploded and that half of the city was dark. It remembered me how funny it was in a summer party years ago in spain when it happened the same and there was many people in party mood outside. And as you feel really safe in this place at night I decided to come back home on the darkness, just to look by that jesus (or his representant in the earth put in form of two iluminated crosses on the top of the hill) was having light and I instantly sarcastically thought “yeah, god lights my way”. At least not the whole city was dark, that was why the cross where still iluminated, cause I thought it would have being funny that they put more effort not to loosing the light of god, than to loosing the light of the people. Linda read me what we where doing on the eleventh so I got this mood of writing backwards what I remember.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-63028061597886230582009-07-16T19:46:00.000+04:002009-08-04T19:22:36.646+04:00Nothing better to do after a shoutting evening than drinking chacha for breakfast by MartaAfter what it should be the last awful and woody sleeping night, because, who decided it is a great idea to sleep on a wood bench!! We got up and there was fire, already made by Jaba. When we where eating the mixture of pasta and fish with Sneackers and chicken soup for the breakfast (yes, riete de los desayunos con bacon) this peculiar yogi hunter came (hecho un pincel) clean after the night of alarm shooting, like always left his wife at home, maybe because as Dito confessed us later, he didn’t wanted the guys to fuck her, they could but fuck us instead?? So the Chacha (homemade vodka) ritual started even before 10h. I asked myself, that is even better that the people drinking Carajillos (cafe with a shot), cause they at least wait till 12h in Spain. In one of this Tamada tost, he tosted on us not to forget him. And I sarcastly commented Linda, that he should not worry to having a place on my memory, but that I would really prefer to put him on a place on my oblivion. Because remember is good but forget is sometimes even better. So we went down the hill, it was hot, so I take my t-shirt off, put my sun glassed and decided that no hungry or tiredness should bother me, cause the sooner down the better to eat. We made some photos with Jaba’s camera, cause my camera was tired of working from the scout camp. Sometimes makes strange things. Linda was our guide but as the others where the ones who knew well the area, they let her always get extraviate when the marks where not fitting her path with a malicious but sane laught in their faces as they used the silent sign of putting the index in front of their mouths to tell me I should not disturb their games, by loyaly giving advice to her that she was out of the way. In a point of the way, Dito, which really enjoys being (un cabroncete) as funny as the guy from “home and alone” when the robers are supposed to be back at his place, put as all out of the path to let Linda go. I tried to complain saying I have a contract owing my loyality to her and that she would not return but sit somewhere in the way and wait, as the previous days, so the situation ended on being funny of me. Because first he said, “shh, she comes” I tried to push myself against the hill not to be seen and after a minute the tree of them where laughting at me, then he was explaining we should be quiet and started to through me water, so I could not shout back and they where laughing again. Of course I took my little revenge throwing them water back. In the top of the mountain before, we had heard strange exploding noises, like the ones when throwing fireworks at popular events, but they tell that was arm training. It frightents me out a little, cause I’ve never heard an army training. Down, we become that after 5 days of a shortage of cleanniness, we will be the special gests on the local business meeting from the park.(yeah, I yo con estos pelos) So we came there and there was eaters paradise, after five days of porridge, I didn’t knew if I should start from the cake or from the chinkali. I think my stomach didn’t know it either and all that ended with me feeling dizzy in the toilette. But after doubting to take another UZARA shot, because I so I had half run out of the bottle, not being even on my first month, we where safe at home.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-17426758916541344612009-07-16T18:46:00.002+04:002009-07-22T18:49:35.718+04:00Linda: continuing to build cultural bridges with weapon-loving locals<div align="justify"><span style="color:#003300;">The night was cool up here- felt my feet getting cold, but was too lazy to get up and look for socks, so continued my strange yoga-dreams of doing gomukh asana. <br /><br />Jaba’s alarm rang at 6:00, but did not disturb anybody’s sleep much. Eventually I got up first and went out for toilet- had a choice of a open-air pit toilet open to observation from the hut by missing one wall and the privacy offered by knee-high leafy plants wet with morning dew. <br />Watched the sun rising behind clouds tainting them pink.<br /><br />Marta woke up with desperate cry: “Oh, I am so cold! Linda, put your sleeping bag over me!” My argument that she has to get up anyway did not work, so I wrapped her in the warmth of two sleeping bags and went to fetch water together with Dito freezing our hands in the icy stream. <br /><br />We were ready to go after breakfast 7:00 + Georgian factor = around 9:00. Walking and marking was extremely slow- making the marks is a damn hard work especially here high up on the ridges in the howling wind. By observing the marking process and reviewing the left marks, I am still sure that Marta and me and in fact any hiker, who would come here for the first time, would lose the trail anyway. The team was lacking resources for proper marking- they can carry only limited amount of wooden poles and planks and on spot there are no materials useful for leaving marks available- no trees, no stones, just alpine meadows. Nevertheless the path itself was wonderful- through green meadows rich with flowers of all colours- orange, yellow, violet, white, pink. At moments felt unconditional happiness taking me over. Is happiness real only when shared? Then why does it visit me mostly at my solitude with nature? Nothing else ever makes me as happy.<br /><br />We were singing a lot while walking- each to themselves- in our mother tongues (Dito preferring “we don’t need no education…”) and all together joining in our first Georgian song: “Chrvelo pepelo, caprindi nela, delia auranuli…”.<br /><br />Started to admire Dito- he was the only one really putting effort in the work of marking and everything he did, he did with care and precision, not leaving anything unfinished and overall he is a most pleasant company with loads of positive energy, although he enjoyed making fun on behalf of us- I found it healthy to have a laugh about ourselves.<br /><br />Finished marking the trail just above Amarati shelter and were looking for a place to settle for lunch when were met by another inhabitant of the park- shepherd nicknamed Krazana (Mosquito). He brought us some bread and khachapuri and never without it- home-made wine. Our lunch was prolonged by Jaba dutifully taking up the responsibility of park staff to maintain good relations with other park stakeholders and soon getting drunk, while we were layzily lying around in the sun and wind. It was soon obvious that a storm is coming, so the decision was easy- no Atskuri today- we’ll spend one more night in the park at Amarati shelter.<br /><br />Krazana invited us to his summer home, where he currently lives with his wife- a mud floored wooden hut decorated by pages of Soviet fashion magazine pages from 70s in one room and cigarette block packaging in the other. Krazana’s wife Ljuba was a cute 20 year old girl- 15 years younger than him, from my point of view treated like a slave in this solitary hut of primitive conditions. Krazana boasted to be the ruler of the house and claimed that any work he utters is like an order from God to his wife. I did not interviene or express my diassproval of such an abuse of a woman, as i had no chance to find out how she feels about it or what are the conditions behind their marriage. Marta being more idealistic in her heart bluntly ignored the man and tried to communicate with the girl with short phrases in Georgian. I had sat down on Krazanas bed and at a point was told that I am actually sitting on a shotgun, which is under the blanket, but it is OK for me to continue sitting on it. The fiest of playing cards, eating fried potaoes and drinking wine and cha-cha with lengthy toasts, as always and singing stretched to 4 hours and included all the aray of traditional Georgian toasts: to God, to Georgia, to all the good people, to guests, to all the people that miss us, to all the people, whom we miss, on families and mothers and brothers and sisters and children, on our deceased ancestors, on the beauty of nature, on us getting married etc. <br /><br />Finally we were freed to go to the tourist hut, where Dito rushed to chop firewood and Marta delighted in clean toilet “you could eat in that toilet!”, which actually had all walls and a door. Soon heavy rain started so we moved indoors and had a rock-pop-reggea singing evening and when Jaba and Geo came as well- a Georgian language lesson by drunk Jaba.Tried to close the glassless windows letting in gusts of wind carying lots of water along with plastic bags and tape and chose to occupy more dry upper bunks for sleeping. <br /><br />Our peace was soon disturbed by loud banging on the door and yelling. Krazana. Marta went to open the door that had been blocked by a chair to keep it from slamming in the wind and was met by this sight: mighty storm raging, Krazana in his raincoat completely soaked with a huge fire in the background (later he explained, that he needed to add “some” wood to our fire, beauce he had needed light) and holding his gun. That did cause some distress in Marta, but Krazana ignored her and came in the hut filling all room with the heavy smell of alcohol and started conversing with Dito. Dito endured the conversation with grace and Krazana left to continue with his strategy of random shooting in the dark to scare wolves and bears away from his herd disoriented by the storm and thick fog. The alternative tool at his disposal was a huge metal bell, used for the same purpose of keeping wild animals away. So we had this concert of howling storm, gunshots and bell-ringing to which jaba added his part of juicy snorring. Try sleeping.<br />The situation began to seem hilariously absurd to me so I just couldn’t stop laughing while Dito kept singing Bob Marley songs and Geo whistled to the rhythm of Jaba’s snore.</span><br /><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-52819741258025725942009-07-15T19:40:00.000+04:002009-08-04T19:21:43.950+04:00At Qvabisnevi hut by MartaIn the Morning when we started walking, we weren’t sure if the guys had passed us or not. Afterwards, while being on the top of the hill Linda got Ditos sms saying they had a broken auto and that they would be at the hut at nine, but it was 8 and we where far from the hut by now. I’m feeling well but each time that we go up for a while remembers me how good would be to do continous exercise everyday and not try to go climbing Everest after taking part on a wedding fest. I should learn how to breath better.Ok, the views where stounishing but unfortunatelly the way to see mount Elbrus was covered from fog. At the end of our path, in the hut where some man, we now wanted to be together before meeting mountain mans that start with their chacha rituals and then ask us about our childrens, but those where waiting for Jaba, even there was one ranger, whinch is not an impediment here somehow to be the first with hang over in the morning. And this one was in a mourninfull mood. They say we should drink. We had already told (tropocientas veces) many times that we don’t drink, but this time I thought I wanted to laught a little about this chacha traditions without being really understood that I was laughting, so I came with the following funny tost by searching through the book: “sometimes it rains, sometimes it snows, at what time it is breakfast?” unfortunatelly, they where to drunk to appreciate my poetry or even I was not able to pronounce many ch an k together, so it was not understood and we let it go. Linda and I had much fun though about this japanish tost and we’ve decided to try to learn it by heart for some future tost oportunities (como diria el gañan: “a veces los de la ciudad venis al pueblo y pensais como que hablamos raro y a lo mejor os llevais una ostieja”). Dito, Giorgi and Jaba, appeared after two, while we were still deciding if we should do all the way down as planned or go with the men, not knowing if it would be another digit bunch when drunk. But it turned out that we where all in the mood to stay longer at the hut. Dito took a horse and offered me to ride a little, which I accepted, even after the previous strange experience cause I somehow trusted him more and cause I never have opportunity of being in a horse at home. Then I was offered to be on one horse myself and I had this two man wandering up and down the hill to take me with the horse. The last way was again funny but on the verge of doubt, cause the man took me a little further, and I was kind of trying to tell him it is further enought. But he wanted to tell me that all the cows there where his, and that he lived down there, and I was thinking, should I give you a pride for having cow or what. We turned back and the rest from the evening was just laught and eat and going to sleep. I had my legs full from mosquito bites, which is really annoying.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-61683634281635899062009-07-15T18:43:00.003+04:002009-07-22T18:46:47.358+04:00Linda: peaks, Japanese style toast and happy reunion<div align="justify"><span style="color:#003300;">At 5:00 in the morning we were still alone in the hut. Marta was not eager to get up, I decided to practice my meager fire-starting skills with surprisingly good results. The breakfast of oatmeal porridge and condensed milk came out delicious and mint tea from the meadow as well. We purely enjoyed this perfect morning in mountains. Just before putting my backpack on, went to pee and realized that my menses have started unexpectedly, none of us having brought any female hygiene products with us. Ironically remembered GE activity on mooncup by our fellow glennies. Had to manage all the rest of the trek with what was available in my backpack. Girls, before you go to mountains try at least one day of menses without tampons or panty-liners and not much possibility to wash :).<br /><br />At around 8:30 came to Mt. Rkinis Jvari and both went up to its extremely windy peak at 2439m decorated by a cross to delight in the view of immense sea of clouds below us with dark mountain ridges swimming in it and there received a message from Dito- one of the park guides with Jaba, that they could not come to Qvabiskevi previous day, as their car had broken down and they would meet us there at 9:00. There was no use turning back anymore so we decided to continue forward and hope that they will catch us at some point.<br /><br />It was the most perfect trail today- of the kind that I like the most- traversing mountain ridges always staying high with constant panoramic views all around- west expanses of mountainous reality. <br /><br />Just before 12:00 came to Mt. Sametskvareo (the highest peak of the park) ranger shelter, just below a peak and found a park ranger, two locals, a boy and 3 puppy dogs there with their horses and cows. I had the impulse to stay at the hut at the first sight already- the location suited me perfectly and despite warnings that there is no water near this hut, there was plenty of it streaming down an ice/snow patch still not melted. The party at the hut turned out to be waiting for Jaba’ s group as well- were supposed to provide them with horses and were expecting them to arrive at around 14:00 so we sat down to eat and wait as well, weighting arguments for and against staying there for the night in our heads.<br /><br />Shortly afterwards we were invited to join a table of food and of course- wine and cha-cha. exercised our alcohol refusing skills once more and when asked to toast, with the help of Marta’s phrase book came to this Japanese style universal toast in Georgian saying ”Sometimes it rains, sometimes it snows. What time is breakfast?”. Soon our long awaited party of three- Jaba, Dito, and Georgij (Geo) arrived and brought a lot of laughter, good mood, good music and fresh hazelnuts- just off the tree with them. We became very lively enjoying their company and telling our hiking adventure stories. It was decided- we stay here for the night.<br /><br />I went to wash in the snow-melt stream and covered myself up just in time Dito appeared riding a horse. Marta was following him at slower pace, her horse being led by one of the locals. <br /><br />The Moldavian park ranger had had his norm of promiles and had started crying and decided to go back to Amarati despite his duty to help the trail- marking team. So the team was left without his help and without a horse, which was planned to be there to carry luggage and marking materials.<br /><br />Before going to bed, decided to start early next morning and make all the way back to Atskuri the next day to end the trek on planned time.</span><br /><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-57557143798291390422009-07-14T18:41:00.000+04:002009-07-22T18:43:13.956+04:00Linda: bear tracks, Spanish revolution in jungle and mountain spirits<div align="justify"><span style="color:#003300;">At 6:00 the demons had left the bodies of Tbilisi weekenders and they quietly got up, got ready and left. We were relieved to be on our own and had peaceful breakfast and I decided to boil the drinking water, Marta opted for putting up with diarrhea. <br /><br />The trail no. 2 was much more poorly marked- very soon we had doubts, which way to go. The one we chose, displayed an array of perfect bear tracks. Momentary analysis led us to conclude that they are at least 1,5 days old and we don’t have to drop to the ground and pretend dead.<br /><br />Continued to follow the trail, but soon found no marking anymore. Off-trail and on our own responsibility once again. Decided to follow an old path that seemed frequented by people some time ago but abandoned recently- it went up all the time through a shady forest and this was our right direction- North-West and up to the peak of Qvazvinebi. <br /><br />When it got really hard for her to climb, Marta found solace in loudly singing Spanish revolutionary songs- a performance that reached its peak when we came to clearing in the forest just to find out that the path is completely overgrown by lush, gigantic dense nettle and other stinging and scratching and catching plant species rising high above our heads. I went first- it required a lot of imagination to figure out where the path might be somewhere in the mud below this ample biomass and anyway I was soon trapped hopelessly by the plants wrapped all around my limbs and belly, unable to move one step further. Marta raised her revolutionary volume to unpreceeded heights and me inspired by her fighting spirit, I let a battle cry out myself and started literally chopping my way through with my trekking stick. We joined our voices into powerful Queen songs sending chopped plant parts flying in the sky until with “we are the champions- we will be fighting till the end” on my lips I was out of the jungle next to a half rotten wooden hut, which had been marked on our made in USSR map produced in mid 70s.<br /><br /><br />Reaching the pass below Mt. Qvazvinebi I knew I want to go up to its peak as well as I knew that Marta would not, but as always she was ready to stay and wait for me. I ran up to the top, which was very close and easy, was met by cows up there and located our path to continue on- traversing around the mountain. We followed the trail, but it just kept going round the hill, with no sign of wanting to go down- where our hut was, so at one point we just went down in seemingly right direction.. and “the day was saved again… by… Powerpuff girls!”- we came to a marked trail soon leading us to Qvazvinebi hut. We felt like we had passed the exam of pathfinding after all these cases of getting off-trail, but always finding our way to our target.<br /><br />It was great to settle in an empty hut without anyone in sight, although we were expecting Jaba and co to arrive any moment. Could not find any water in the vicinity of the hut- the riverbed beside it was dry, no matter how far I went down it, while Marta was having a nap (when her nose touched her knees while sitting on a porch, I had advised her to find a horizontal place to sleep on). Gathered firewood instead wondering- why would we need it if there is no water for cooking. Was sitting on the porch in front of the house being wrapped completely by white milky clouds reducing the range of visibility to few meters, listening if boys are not coming and sewing my pants and longed to stay in this place of tranquility for a week at least. Talked to mountain spirits asking for water and soon it started to rain and using all available means of collecting rainwater- including plastic bags we managed to gather all the water we needed for drinking, cooking and I even braved to have a rain shower- screaming cold but very refreshing. My negotiations with spirits regarding stopping the rain and letting us make fire were less successful, so our firewood arranged by Marta with mathematical precision was left unused.<br /><br />Guys had not arrived when we went to sleep and Marta put benches behind every door fearing that otherwise she would not hear and wake up if somebody entered the hut. Lying on the bed afterwards she heard someone coming all the time. But those were only spirits.</span><br /><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-63187700458261429442009-07-13T18:40:00.000+04:002009-07-22T18:41:20.808+04:00Linda: mudsliding to Sahlvari<div align="justify"><span style="color:#003300;">Woke up at 5:00 with no rangers in sight- they had just disappeared, boys were getting up and leaving. At 6:00 woke Marta and we were ready to walk at 7:00 being anxious that our path goes right next to djigit-Georgij’s hut- we had no chance to pass it without being noticed. Shortly before his hut some of the boys were waiting on the trail- seemed that the rangers had instructed them to make sure we pass here safely- we were very lucky to have them there and greatly relieved to finally leave the territory of this macho rule.<br /><br />I climbed one of Lomis Mta peaks with Marta waiting for me below to catch mobile network and thank all the people involved in helping us the previous night and to Jaba confirming that we will meet him at Qvazvinebi hut in two days. Could see Greater Caucasus range from there- Mt. Elbrus and Mt. Kazbek. <br /><br />After the peak the walk was down, down, down, on the way met Georgian campers, who warned us about the trail being very muddy and muddy it was indeed- sticky, slippery ankle-high mud all over, turning our boots into big and heavy mud piles. Could not decide- is it mud-walking or more of a mud-sliding. Trail was well marked here except for where we crossed a river and the only obvious pass ended in the river itself. Was not sure if we are really supposed to walk on the riverbed so went up and down it several times in search of trail marks- had to be careful not to loose it this time, because our good map had fallen out of Marta’s backpack during one of her mudsliding rides. Down the river seemed to be the right direction and soon Marta walked through the water paying no attention of her boots getting completely soaked- enjoying the wet-boot fun, while I was skeptical- she will have to walk in wet boots for several days to come and that is a true suffering.<br /><br />Even more fun than walking through a river was trying to push our way through a tropical jungle like overgrowth of large-leafed plants rising dense above our heads with always-present mud under our feet.<br /><br />On the way, when lifting my backpack, heard a sound of torn cloth- my heavy-used trekking pants had given in and now I had stylish sexy torns on my butt. Somehow, this new style did not feel suitable for walking around this djigit land, so tried to make a temporary repair with tape.<br /><br />Reached our aim- the Sahlvari hut to find out that this night we will be sharing it with 10 lads on holidays from Tbilisi. Having learned a lesson from the previous night- stayed together and away from them, as politely as possible. Overall they seemed nice and even helpful. <br /><br />Was delighted to wash myself and my clothing in a river- after two days of heavy sweating and mud-bathing. Took water from the river, but reading the information on Marta’s water purification tablets realized that they are useless for us, because are meant to keep fresh water that is already clean- Marta just never read the information. Remembered from my previous climbs in Caucasus the bad image of Caucasian rivers causing diarrhea to thirsty mountaineers drinking from them.<br /><br />Made dinner of rice and fish, refused invitations to join cha-cha drinking and sat down to repair my pants. I should have known better by now, that cha-cha can turn even the nicest persons into yelling, rude bastards. Try sleeping with a bunch of drunk men shouting at the top of their voices, trying to perform top of the pops of Georgian music, starting fights, smoking inside the non-smoking hut, trying to guess, what kind of bright ideas will come to their minds next. </span><br /><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-73296545696444556742009-07-12T19:23:00.000+04:002009-08-04T19:49:47.976+04:00The story of a Djigit love by MartaWe 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!!!hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-9324951908442062612009-07-12T18:38:00.001+04:002009-07-22T18:40:08.306+04:00Linda: real djigit experience on Mt. Lomis<div align="justify"><span style="color:#003300;">Our trek began by getting up late, me forgetting my phone in the tent and getting lost very early in the trail. Pretty soon we saw no trail markings anymore, as the paths are truly poorly marked and we did not have any usable map for the beginning of our trek, not speaking about a GPS device. I knew we were off-trail, we were lost, nevertheless I felt safe and orientating by compass and surrounding peaks knew that we are going the right direction. First we were following cow tracks, then the cows themselves, discussing whether they might have inbuilt GPS antennas in their horns, but finally decided that cows have never been renowned climbers and took the lead ourselves. And soon were happy to do that. Marta experienced some difficulties in the steep upwards climb under scorching sun and lagged behind a little bit, constantly apologizing for it, although from my point of view, she really managed well. <br /><br />Was filled with joy, when I finally came to a crossing with a marked trail and knew that now we were close to a hut. I ran up a small peak nearby and was met by a grand view of mountain scenery. Felt immensely thankful for the chance to live in this beautiful, beautiful world. This is why I came here- for these moments! <br /><br />Clouds gathered and thunder gave its warnings and when Marta arrived, we decided not to eat but keep walking while it was not raining yet and soon reached a shepherd’s hut and the shepherd himself just in time to be under the roof with first rain drops. Waited for the waterfall outside to stop feeling strangely pressed by the man in his mid-40s to stay in his hut for the night. At a moment when the shepherd was out looking after his cows, sneaked out trying to avoid him keeping us back, but on our way met him anyway and he started following us our little company soon enlarged by his neighbor, both of them trying to keep us from going to the park hut, saying that it will be dirty there (could not imagine it could be more dirty than his hut), that there are teenagers there and we should not disturb them and that actually- they have everything we need in their huts. We still continued on, visited a hilltop church on the way and indeed found 10 local teenagers boiling recently killed sheep meat (there is a tradition to sacrifice sheep to god on church celebrations). The boys were quite nice- cleaned the floor of the hut when we arrived, freed two bunk bed for us, were very polite and spoke some English shyly. Very much contrasted to the shepherds, who soon commanded the boys to put up a table, started drinking the wine brought by boys, pressing us to drink, shouting loud toasts and by becoming more and more drunk, became more and more rude and annoying boasting to be real djigits. I tried to escape their attention by starting to write in my diary- saying I have to do some work, which ended by one of them- Georgij pulling out his knife and smashing it into the bed planks 7 cm away from my thigh- he had promised Marta to show, where to find water and said “Do you know what it means if djigit leaves his knife like this? No one will dare to touch you while I am away!” I smirked to it blankly and he continued “You don’t want it? I can take it away!”. For God’s sake- leave it and go.<br />I don’t think Marta is really safe going for water with him, but at least his knife is here. <br /><br />I was left alone for a while and boys called me out to show me the most perfect rainbow I have ever seen in my life- brightly coloured full semicircle on the backdrop of rain illuminated by sun- breathtaking sight.<br /><br />Marta came from her ride walking and without water, but safe- in a way she is lucky not speaking any languages known by the shepherds so she is unaware of much of what is going on. Asking boys for the water was a much better option so Marta went for a second try with them and came back triumphantly carrying a 1,5l of water at the same time being artistically covered with mud from head to feet, because the trail to the water had tuned into a mudslide. With a big smile on her face she announced: “Washing today- forget it!”. <br /><br />Our djigits came back bringing a third one, by the nickname of “Chechen” and they continued their drinking feast in the hut, while we sat out by fire and cooked some food and tea interrupted by frequent shouts from the window “Linda, you have to come to us!”, which I kept ignoring.<br /><br />So it continued all afternoon and at one point I was sitting alone by the fire and djigit- Georgij came, sat down beside me and said in his loud, machoistic style: <br />G: “Tell Marta she has to come with me”<br />L: “Where?”<br />G: “I will take her to the church.”<br />L: “Why?”<br />G: “To put out the candles.”<br />L: “Why?”<br />G: “I am a djigit and I will tell you straight- I want to take her hand and tell her, that I am a man and she is a woman and we are in the mountains….”<br />L: “Marta will not come. What would your wife think about it?”<br />G: (getting agitated) “Wife! Where is your husband! We have families, but we are in mountains!”<br />L: “Marta will not come. I will not let her go.”<br />G: “If you tell her to come, she will come. I give you the djigits word to bring her back here!”<br />L: “I will not tell her ”<br />G: “But I want her to come!”<br />L: “You can’t always get everything you want!”<br />G: ”But I want! I want you to tell her!”<br />L: “I will not let her go.”<br />G: “But I WANT!”<br /><br />Luckily others came out so this never-ending discussion deciding Marta’s destiny was interrupted. Nevertheless I was constantly approached by the other, a bit more shy shepherd by reminders that I should come to his hut in the night, if I don’t feel comfortable here, him constantly grabbing my arm and trying to kiss my head and hands and me fighting back. <br />I had already decided to contact park administration- sent them SMS telling that we have some difficulties with drunken locals and had received a reply that rangers will be sent to the hut and should arrive “soon”.<br /><br />The evening by the fire ended by Georgij coming out of the hut- finished all alcohol, I suppose and asking me to come aside to tell me something. I replied by telling to him to speak in the presence or others or not saying it at all, which was a bit too sharp, as it made him madly angry and he started to shout and threaten- “Shut up, yourself! You will see- wolves will come to you at night and you will see what kind of wolves those are going to be! Remember- my friend here is Chechen and I myself am a Chechen. Rangers! Ha! You will se what rangers will come!”. Boys decided to intervene and tried to lead this angry, aggressive drunkard away, while he continued to yell at us in Georgian. We hid ourselves from his view in the hut and as it was already getting dark got ready to sleep, but so that we are ready to leave in seconds in case of need. After being threatened and with no sight of rangers sleeping was a difficult task. <br /><br />At around 1:00 in the night the unlockable door of the hut was slammed open and two men with heavy steps came in bringing us…. flowers. The rangers had finally arrived. Levani was on their phone: “Girls, you are in the wrong hut! I was very worried when the rangers reported that the tourist hut is empty and I could not phone you anymore!”. We had passed the right tourist hut, by being on the unmarked trail and had come straight to the peak of Lomis Mta and to the old hut, which was not used by visitors anymore, exactly because of problems with locals! We thanked Levani and rangers for their care and help and the rangers promised to stay the whole night and sat down with the boys….… to drink cha-cha.</span> <br /><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2066911938083909436.post-14626164914719196712009-07-11T19:14:00.000+04:002009-08-04T19:18:24.124+04:00Using belts on my car?no way I'm here the law by MartaWhile waiting for the marschrutka two good and new autos stopped. There was this kind of gigolo more than 35 fatty man inviting us to bring us to our destination at Qvabiskhevi where we where going to see the scouts and camp for the night. We accepted because he was the local chef of the rescue service. He was afterwards saying that we had to with him, that he would show us vardzia, and arrange the meal and the hotels for us, but we kept on insisting that we had our plans and we could do that other time. I was putting the belt, when Linda had to translate me, that as he was the chef of the region, he was like the police, so nobody needed to use that on his auto. Yeah, law giving example! In the park we got breakfast, we join an action about cleening that Linda and me finded an absurdity introduction to cleaning, when we where at the river that was (lleno de mierda, como una pocilga) pretty trashy. And she stopped us and send us to kleen the mountain “toilettes”, some how disgusting, but at least I had a glove, and there is people that work putting their hands inside porks so….Then the typical game I should have had in my first youth and not when I was playing with boys 10 years younger than me, but I still choosed to kiss hehehe, on the chick don’t worry, on the chick. Where there were three funny momments: this shiffle cheffin, RITA “sherry bobbings”, always hiting baddly on boys chick and somehow on their honour too, but still they almost didn’t hit her back, as hard as she did (impressive to seeing her in the church afterwards being the most devote, maybe following put the other chick rule??), then the boys asking aus how old we where end sounding really deceipted with this too old chicks, hehehe and then forgetting our age againg by trying to declaire themselves in georgian an azerbaian. Well at least we made a friend. I really got on well with Fahrid, he would be a great man one day, he was always a good translator to us, really helpful, and calm (he was also the only one helping us to deal with the disgusting rests of live, so that gives him 1000 mini-points). As he could both azerbaian and georgian, we decided to follow him to an azerbaian lesson about body language, that for them might be enough, but for me was little neew, although, I had funs with the games, and I realiced I was not good acting. The guy teaching was pretty much into america saving us because they are the good guys, because of what we so in his curriculum, but yeah, at least it is a chance of education for many people here so. “ Americanos, os recibimos con alegria... olé mi madre...olé mi suegra y olé mi tia”.<br /><br />We had to talk to the ranger to say hello, we was in some fish-chacha party (“merendola”) with a pope and a men in black. Yuhu, the party of my life. Of course we didn’t stay to tell them a good night story. After the dinner they had some party, there was this girl singing, really good, but the only think I could think about is to rent her for getting rid of any animal trace in 30km arround while we would be trekking. Although I deeply wanted to meet “Yoggie and bubu”<br /><br />The church place was great, cause you could see many mountains with the moon light, but the moon was not already at sight and we where sitting on the verge of a clifft, next to the church. I went inside the church, and it was impressive how they recited all this georgian rituals, it sounded good, I asked if like the churches are still open here at night all if all knew what to do, like in a kind of first aids training for church rituals.hachapuri connectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05682699206853789958noreply@blogger.com0