Saturday, 14 October 2017

 

On which I stayed in Tbilisi and...

 

got intimately acquainted with a peacock

fell in love with the "Berlin of the Caucasus"

visited an abandoned theme park by night

 

 

 

I awoke with a ping. What's App. I turned around with a groan. It had been so late yesterday. Drowsy, I looked at the message: Irakli wanting to know when I would come pick up the router. Not now. Postponing any useful activity to the afternoon, I went back to sleep. Another noise, this time the phone ringing. Huuh? I picked up the receiver. Reception wanted to know if I would come down for breakfast or if I preferred to have it in the room. I looked at my watch: it was 11 o'clock. "I'm so sorry for not letting you know earlier. Yes, if it's not too much trouble, some coffee and a bite to eat would be great. But just coffee for one person," I added, remembering that I had booked a double room.

 

Fifteen minutes later, an elderly lady knocked on the door and brought in two plates, laden with all kinds of food. Enough nourishment for the next three days! Who would eat all of this? "It's just me," I protested, but quickly realised that she didn't understand me. "Ya odna," I said. Oh. She thought for a second, then smiled broadly. She was sure I would manage to eat all of it by myself. And did I need anything else that they might have forgotten? I assured her that this was more than enough and complimented her out of the room. Then I looked at the plate. Two of everything - except for the coffee. They had misunderstood me on the phone. Actually, I wouldn't have minded two cups of coffee, but I wasn't about to tell them that.

 

Tucking in, I devised a plan for the day. I needed to get to Star Rent a Car's downtown office. For some reason I thought I had to do it by car, which was of course complete nonsense. I should have left the car at the hotel and taken the metro. Somehow not thinking straight (maybe I was still tired?), I was hellbent on finding the office by car - and without getting lost again. So I looked up the fastest route on Google Maps and wrote down each and every step in between. Here you can see my notes, scribbled down in Luxembourgish.

 

Feeling confident that this would work, I hopped into my Suzuki, memorised the first three directions on the piece of paper and took off. Make a left, third street turn right, then immediately left again. With cars coming at me from left and right, I was so busy concentrating on traffic that I was soon confused about where I had turned which way. I stopped at the kerb, got out of the car and double checked the street signs. To my surprise, I was still on track. Back into the car, all the way down a very chaotic and congested street, turn right and then left, twice. With the car bumping over very uneven street pavement, I checked my instructions. Yes, still doing fine. Even though. I had reached the end of the road and a construction site prevented me from turning left. Splendid. Ignoring the mayhem around me, I parked the car to the side and checked my notes. Hm... Was I even in the right street? There was no street sign to be seen and I didn't have the nerve to leave the car here, with all the other vehicles clambering to move past me. There were no two ways about it. I had to drive on, make a left as soon as possible and that would, hopefully, get me into Kote Afkhazi Street, only a bit further down the road. And so it was. To my utter amazement, I had found the right street and even recognized Irakli's building. I had made it!

 

The girl in the office was extremely friendly and spoke good English. Yes, she knew that I was supposed to pick up a router. She helped me connect it to my phone and I was all set. Even if my guide for tomorrow fell through, I was now confident that I would find my way around the country. As for today, I intended to explore the town on foot. But first I would bring the car back to the hotel.

 

I don't know why I thought this was a good idea. I was already in the heart of the city. Why not leave the car right there and walk around? For some reason, I didn't make the connection that this was the old city. What can I say? I had just driven three kilometres from Belinski to Kote Afkhazi Street, without internet connection. I cannot be a genius all the time.

 

The way back to the hotel was a breeze. With Google Maps' voice navigation guiding me, I was able to really enjoy the drive. The high road offered a stunning view of Tbilisi. You would have imagined yourself in Southern Italy. I had to stop the car and take a picture.

 

Soon after, I left the car near the hotel and set out on foot. You see so much more when you are walking. Every second house on Belinski Street sported a little grocery store or a food stall outside. The fruit looked so fresh and organic. I stopped in front of two vendors having a chat. "Odno yablako, pojalusta", I said politely. One of the women looked at me. I wanted just one apple? Yes, please. She rummaged through the box until she found two beautiful apples and handed them to me. Okay, they were probably only sold in bulk. "Skolka?" I offered her a couple of lari. She shook her head, refusing to take the money. I tried to insist, but she was adamant: the apples were for free. Slightly embarassed, I showered my madlobas on her and walked on, munching my fruit. It was so delicious!

 

Strolling through the residential streets of Tbilisi, I felt like a local. What better way to get to know a town! I arrived at the plaza next to Rustaveli Metro Station. A Peruvian band was playing music in the street. I took a rest on the wall next to some youths and listened for a while. Then I entered the metro station and got in line at the ticket office. Trying to work out which ticket I would have to buy, I noticed a young girl looking at me.

 

I smiled at her. She smiled back and asked "Where is your country?" "Luxembourg." This seemed to excite her. I was probably her first Luxembourgian. "Where you go?" "Two stations. Avlabari." She pulled me to the turnpike. I protested. "No, I need a ticket." She shook her head, frustrated that she couldn't explain. I tried Russian, but she didn't understand. She showed me her metro card. "Go." Ah, she wanted to let me through with her card. I tried to offer her some small change, but she refused. She didn't want any money, just to help a tourist. We hugged. Such friendly people!

 

Tbilisi Metro is running deep under the city. Like - very deep. The escalators seemed to go on forever, down and down and down. So I had plenty of time to take a picture. In retrospect, taking the metro to Avlabari had not been such a good idea. Liberty Square would have been much closer to the old town. But here I was, on the other side of the river, trying to find my way back towards Europe Square and the bridge over the Mtkvari.

 

 

 

George had recommended that I visit Narikala Fortress high up on the hill. You can either walk up or use the aerial tramway. The cable car entrance is located in Rike Park next to Europe Square, so I opted for the latter. Me and every other tourist in Tbilisi. The queue at the ticket booth was long and slow. This gave me ample leisure to look at the beautiful park grounds near the river, with its fountains and winding paths leading towards the stylish Bridge of Peace, cool unusual park benches and an intriguing building in the form of a huge cannon shaft sticking out of the hill. Later I would find out that this was a concert hall and exhibition centre. How could I ever have thought that Tbilisi was drab and ugly? This was a wonderful, modern city with flowery parks, highrises, tastefully restored buildings and streets bustling with life and enterprise. And the people were incredibly friendly and kind. The more I saw of it, the more I adored it!

 

At last I reached the beginning of the line. In order to use any public transport in Tbilisi, you need to purchase an electronic card. You can put money on the card, which will be deducted each time you use it at a turnpike. Now I understood why the girl had insisted on swiping me through. She didn't want me to have to go through the trouble of buying a card. Well, now I had to purchase one anyway.

 

Each cabin seats a maximum of six people. It is a wobbly affair and attached quite high up to a single cable. Too late I remembered that I was still very much afraid of heights. Trying not to panic, I willed the cable car to move faster. I tried to distract myself by focussing on the view. If I looked straight ahead toward the approaching fortresss, I was more or less ok. I asked one of the boys in the cabin to take a picture of me, but he didn't make too good a job of it.

 

Not a moment too soon we reached the fortress. Overjoyed to be back on solid ground, I took a selfie. The battlements were filled with icecream vendors and souvenir stalls. I strolled to a high statue at the north end of the lane. Kartlis Deda, Mother Georgia, was standing guard over the city, holding a sword and a cup in her large hands. I'm a sucker for oversized Soviet architecture and Mother Georgia was just as impressive as Mother Homeland in Kiev or Murmansk's Alyosha.

 

Next I had a look at the Botanical Garden. I say a look because this garden is huge. Knowing that the sun would be setting in less than an hour, I soon headed back up the stairs, even though I would have loved to get lost in its green wilderness, On my way to the fortress proper, I was stopped by a group of youngsters. They had a tame peacock and a monkey with them and made a living asking tourists if they wanted to have their picture taken with the animals. 10 lari for as many shots as I wanted. Why not? One of the girls put the peacock on my shoulder. Wow, was he heavy! The bird felt a lot more comfortable than me, perching on my shoulder. "Is he not going to fall off," I worried. "He knows what he's doing," the girl laughed. Obviously. The animal lazily readjusted itself further down on my arm. Now for the picture. Try to look in control.

 

In the end, it was a very funny experience, well worth the three euros. "Do you want the monkey, too?" one of the guys asked while he took a sip from his beer bottle. I bet they were tramping all over Europe with their pets. "No thank you," I laughed, seeing the animal climb around its owner's head. "Do you have a cigarette?" the girl asked, when I turned to leave. "Sorry, I don't smoke." I was truly sorry. I liked them. Maybe I should get myself a photogenic pet too. Might come in handy if I ever worked up the courage to travel the world.

 

I adjusted my handbag. What was that? My hand came away sticky and wet. I looked at it. Muddy greyish goo. Let me guess: peacock poo. Nice.

 

Soon I reached the other end of the fortress wall. To get onto the tower, you have to climb down some steps, then move back up through a large gate. The gravelled lane was overgrown, dusty and difficult to navigate. Further up, you have to grope your way over rocks and weedy cracks. Good thing I was wearing sneakers today. Still I was glad to reach the top. The view over southeastern Tbilisi was amazing.

 

I looked back down the path I had come. The sun was setting fast behind the hill. It would be difficult to see where I was putting me feet. I wished Irakli was here to help me get down. I looked around for a potential knight in shining armour. Most people were standing together in groups, and in my experience women don't take kindly to other women asking their men for a hand. Then I spotted a young man getting ready to head back down. I ran after him. "Sorry, do you mind if I go right behind you? This path is so slippery." "Is there even a path?" the guy laughed. His English was perfect. When we were halfway down, the path suddenly stopped. Just an uneven drop of jutting rocks and weeds. I was quite sure I had not come up this way. My new acquaintance helped me clamber over the worst parts and even held my handbag while I jumped down the last three feet. I just hoped I had wiped off all the poo.

 

Together we walked down to the river. He was from Mexico City, but four months ago he had visited Tbilisi and fallen in love with the city. As a freelance IT specialist, he was free to work pretty much anywhere he wanted. When we walked past the hot baths, he recommended that I visit them, just for the experience. He added that some locals use them for hookups, as unmarried people tend to live with their parents. Bawdy baths. What's new. I really liked my new friend. I asked him about Tbilisi nightlife. He recommended the Café Gallery, a gay-friendly bar he was often hanging out at. Apparently it was a trendy, if somewhat crowded and noisy place. "I might check it out," I said. We hugged good bye. "I have a friend who would have loved you," I laughed.

 

 

 

Strolling on, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. I had not eaten anything since the woman had offered me those apples in the early afternoon. At the foot of Narikala Fortress, I was spoiled for choice. Trendy bars, small tapas places, hipster cafés and cosy restaurants - it was all here. One unconventional and unexpected little pop-up chased the next. This reminded me so much of Berlin! Come to think of it, the whole of Tbilisi was Berlinish, with its rough roguish charm, can-do messiness paired with stately buildings of a forgotten 19th century glory, a bustling city in the process of reinventing itself, unpolished and poor, then again strangely refined and full of amazing ideas. I had butterflies in my stomach. As you do, when you fall in love.

 

I entered a little café attached to a trendy clothing store. The guy behind the counter spoke perfect English. We had a chat about his city and he agreed that it was cool and hip, unfortunately the real nice places were mostly too expensive for the average local resident. Here again, lots of parallels with Berlin. Poor but cool. Was it better than rich but uncool? Hard to say. Like it or not, there's always a trade-off to be made. Lucky those that can decide which side they want to be on. Philosophising about EU visas and the beauties of Georgia, I munched my cake and sipped espressos. Cool or uncool, rich or poor - right now, life was good. My phone beeped. Irakli was asking what I was doing. Eating cake in... "What's the name of this street?" I asked the guy behind the counter. "22 Kote Afkhazi, old Leselize," was the answer. Huuuh? "Can you type that in my phone, please?" It wasn't easy to get the hang of these foreign-sounding names.

 

My phone beeped again. "Come over to my office." Easier said than done. I thought feverishly. I had taken the metro to the old town, so to get to the rent-a-car office, I would have to take the metro back. It was probably far to walk. Besides, I was supposed to meet with Goga, my history-student-cum-guide, in an hour or so. "Sorry, too far," I messaged back. The phone pinged again. And then right again. And again. Goga, asking if we could meet now. Irakli, saying that his office was just across the street. And George, telling me he was ready to meet in an hour, so that I could give him back the necklace that he had forgotten yesterday. Help! Not in the mood for multitasking, I texted my location to Goga and George, and told Irakli that, unfortunately, I was too busy tonight. In retrospect a mistake. Ah well, you cannot get everything right in life.

 

I went outside to keep a lookout for my soon-to-be guide. Looking up and down the street, I suddenly noticed a sign on the building across the street: Star Rent A Car. I really was right across from his office! How could I not have realized this? Too late now. For the next two hours, I talked to Goga, explaining the things I wanted to see in Georgia. We decided to start out tomorrow morning, driving up to Stepantsminda in the Greater Caucasus mountains. On Monday we would go see Shatili, a picturesque highland village on the border to Chechnya, and on Tuesday we'd drive south, possibly visiting the cave monastery of Vardzia. By Wednesday evening I would have to be back in Tbilisi to catch my flight back home.

 

By 11 o'clock we had agreed on a travel route and the fee for his "skipping school to play guide". I was starting to wonder whether I had chosen the best travel companion. Maybe a professional guide would have been better? Goga's English was not as good as I had thought, he didn't speak any Russian and I didn't really know him all that well. What a pity neither George nor Irakli had time to come along.

 

In between, George showed up at the bar to collect his necklace. "I hope we meet again," I told him, when he hugged me good bye. "We will," he promised, "in the meantime, enjoy Georgia." Back at our table, Goga asked if I wanted to see some interesting places in Tbilisi. Right now? Georgians really did have a knack for late-hour sightseeing. As he didn't have a car, we hailed a taxi to pick up my car at the hotel. Goga negotiated with the driver and in the end the ride only cost us 5 lari. 5 lari! That was not even 2 euros. Suddenly my rides to and from the airport seemed outrageously expensive in comparison.

 

 

 

West of the city centre lies a huge hillside park by the name of Mtatsminda. To reach it, you have to drive up and up a winding road into the hills. At the very top stands a huge TV tower and Goga thought it might be a good idea to visit it, say, around midnight. He assured me that the area was open at all times and that in Georgia it was perfectly okay to hang out at a TV tower in the middle of the night. I was doubtful. Well, at least we didn't have to push our way through a crowd. We were all alone up here. We parked the car and strolled towards the - indeed wide-open - entrance. A guard came out of his shelter and greeted us. There was a short discussion between him and Goga and we made our way back to the car. Seems it wasn't so okay to visit at odd hours after all.

 

But Goga was hell-bent on showing me this part of Tbilisi by night, come what may. A kilometre or so further down the road, we turned into a car park. At least here there were some people around. Braving a stiff wind, we walked over to a large terrace in front of a restaurant. There seemed to be a wedding going on, people were laughing loudly and bawling out Russian songs. The expression one too many came to mind. Preferring to keep a safe distance, we headed for the balustrade. The view was breathtaking. The whole of Tbilisi lay to our feet, a million dots shining in the night air. A flashback, a long forgotten memory: me standing in the Hollywood Hills, looking down at the City of Angels. Twenty-five years ago, it felt like yesterday. Some things never change.

 

"Let's see the park," Goga proposed. There was an fun fair hidden among the trees behind the restaurant. Park lanes led from one ride to the next, there was a children's playground, ferris wheel, boat rides and carousels, all standing dark and quiet and lonely in the dead of night. There were no streetlights on at this hour, and the trees effectively hid the music and the lights from the restaurant. We strolled around, all alone in the pitchdark. "We can come back during the day," Goga said. I shook my head. "I have been to a lot of theme parks. They are all more or less the same. But I've never seen an amusement park by night. No need to come back, it cannot possibly be better than this." I'm not sure Goga understood what I had just said. He thought about it for a while. "You like it?" I laughed. "Yes." Just at that moment, we stepped out of the park. Right in front of us, looming tall and red and white, stood the TV tower. And so we got to see it after all.