Street walking in Tbilisi

Walking around Tbilisi is a bit like walking through the fun house at the carnival.  You see things that don’t look just quite right.  You see things that aren’t really there, and you see things that could be.  You see things that look vaguely familiar, but just don’t look quite as you recall them.  You see things that make you laugh, and you see things that make you flinch.  Occasionally you see something of breathtaking beauty, but mostly what you see is a distortion from the norm.  That’s Tbilisi.  Not that there isn’t potential here.  Potential and, in an agonizingly few cases, absolute magnificence. 

Tbilisi used to be, as you know, a republic in the Soviet Union.  The Georgian Soviet Socialist Republic was treated like a red-headed step child most of the time.  The leadership in Moscow did what was required and little more.  An example is the architecture.  Tbilisi is inundated with Soviet-style apartment blocks.  These blocks look as if they were set down by a giant child playing with blocks.  They are rectangular, uniform, functional (for the most part; more on that later), and remarkably unimaginative and unattractive.  Their unwavering color is concrete.  Made from cinder blocks and concrete, they have all the charm of a mean drunk.  In a few rare instances, on the main road from the airport to downtown Tbilisi for example (a road named George W. Bush Highway), one side of all the buildings (the side facing the road, of course) have been painted.  At one time it was a bright red.  Now, three years later, it’s a pale pink.  The buildings are so ugly that I can’t even photograph them.  The camera lens shuts itself tightly when I point it at one. 

Their beauty is matched only by the quality of their workmanship.  In almost every case, elevators have been broken for years (and many of these apartments are 10-12 stories high).  Bare wires are omnipresent, many humming with electricity.  Washers and dryers, all Soviet-made and built into each apartment, have become little more than a place to toss your keys when you enter the apartment.  And if you like the color “concrete,” you’ll love the interior.  Most are a dull gray that gave up long ago any chance of being attractive.  The only color in most of these buildings is the spray painted graffiti (surprisingly, mostly in English).  Residents hang carpets and unbelievably garish wallpaper over these bare concrete walls, but the shoddiness of the finish is as obvious as Rosie O’Donnell in a dayglo thong. 

And it’s not just the big things that are wrong.  For instance, they don’t seem to have grasped bullnose tile here so counters end abruptly, with the gap between vertical and horizontal half-hazardly filled with caulk and in some cases leftover mortar.  Wire to outlets run along the wall itself, not hidden behind the walls as in the rest of the world.  And plumbing pipes are exposed, the better, I suppose, for the legion of plumbers and DIYers who spend their weekends trying to coax just a little bit more hot water and water pressure from them.  Ugly.  Just ugly.

And then there are the sites in this town that are staggeringly impressive.  Tbilisi is in a valley, surrounded by steep hills.  That hasn’t stopped the Georgians from building on them.  In fact, if there are two rocks on top of one another, the Georgians have built something on it.  One of the most impressive edifices is this large fort that overlooks the river and downtown Tbilisi.  The photo below doesn’t really do the thing justice.  While not incredibly effective, as proven by the number of times Tbilisi has been sacked by invading armies, it is a point of pride to all Georgians – “Look!  We built that a thousand years ago!  And it’s still standing.”  If you can get to it, it provides some of the most beautiful and breathtaking views of the city.  The photos below don’t come close to matching the actual views.  Trust me – the views are spectacular.  Getting there, however, is an exercise in overcoming common sense.  Note you don’t see any goats in any picture of the fort.  That’s because goats are too smart to climb the paths to get there.  These paths are to casual hiking what LT Calley was to thatched huts (look it up; that’s a funny line).  And once you get up to the fort itself, you have this set of stairs to climb that go practically vertical (see the picture below if you don’t believe me).  What makes the whole thing complete is the lack of ANY safety considerations – no handrails, no signs cautioning you not to go up there, no safety nets, and no huge air bags to fall into once you’ve lost your balance.  The only way to climb the steps, and many of the paths leading to the top of the fort, is literally on all fours. If you don’t have vertigo when you start the climb, you’ll have it when you get to the top.  But the views make it worthwhile. 

Even the streets in Old Tbilisi offer their share of impressive buildings and construction.  Many of the old houses have overhanging balconies, some of which literally overhang the river a hundred feet below.  Wine being the national drink, each house has its own arbor, many woven into the actual structure of the house.  Some of the streets are so steep that steps have been built into the side of the street to allow for better downhill access (going uphill is physically demanding but relatively safe; coming downhill reminds you of the power of gravity – you build up speed very quickly with no soft landing anywhere in sight).  It’s amazing, what with average alcohol consumption levels being what they are and combined with the steepness of the streets, that there aren’t little crosses posted at the bottom of each street, much like we do in the US at the sites of deadly car accidents. 

I hope you can see why I enjoy walking the streets so much.  Every turn, every side street, every building makes you stop.  Sometimes you stop to marvel, other times you stop to figure out how that building is still standing, and yet other times you stop just to shake your head and laugh (see the final picture below).  But one thing’s for sure – there’s always something to see in Tbilisi.

Thanks for reading.

Eating my way through Tbilisi

I have been enjoying immensely the restaurants in Tbilisi.  What I haven’t enjoyed is imagining how those delicious meals are being prepared.  You’ll see what I mean later.  Let me start by clarifying something:  earlier I wrote that the cheese bread, called kachapuri (pronounced “kotcha-pure-ee”) is like pizza.  It’s more like cheese toast.  Remember when you were a kid and you took a piece of cheese, laid it on a piece of bread and shoved it in the toaster oven?  (For those of you under 50, ask an elder about a toaster oven.  They used to be THE appliance to have in your kitchen.)  Well, that’s what cheese bread is like.  They also jazz it up as you can see in the first photo below.  It is ubiquitous here and is served at every meal in some configuration.  It is delicious, but if you ate it at every meal you’d quickly weigh half a ton, so I’ve tried to be judicious with it.

Meals here are off the “meat & potatoes” menu.  They eat a lot of meat, generally at every meal, usually with potatoes in some form or another, and bread.  Not cheese bread bread, but regular flat bread that is just wonderful.  I’ve made quite a few meals so far out of nothing but bread dipped in honey or Nutella.  (Yeah, I have a bit of a sweet tooth.)  But back on track – meats here come in a lot of forms.  My favorite so far is something called choslik, pronounced “shosh-lick.”  We know it as kebab.  If you order beef choslik you get cubes of meat that have been grilled on a skewer.  They are served with fried onions.  Interestingly, the chosliks aren’t cooked with vegetables on the skewer as we would do it.  The meat and vegetables are cooked separately and then combined on the serving plate.

If you order pork or veal choslik, it comes in ground form, looking like a long tube of meat into which the skewer is inserted.  It’s served wrapped in a tortilla-type bread, again covered with onions and pomegranate seeds.  I’ve seen chicken choslik on the menu, but I haven’t had that yet. 

Another favorite of mine is khinkali, pronounced “king-collie.”  Have you had steamed dumplings in a Chinese restaurant?  Khinkali are similar.  They’re dumplings stuffed with spiced meat and juice from the meat and either steamed or fried.  Picture a sack tied around the top.  That’s what a khinkali looks like.  You eat them by hand.  You pick up the dumpling by the knot at the top.  You hold it upside down and bite a small hole in the bottom.  Then you suck out the juice.  The mark of an experienced khinkali eater is how much juice you spill.  The goal, of course, is not to spill a drop of the juice.  If you spill the juice, the locals laugh at you and you get a wet chin.  You then eat the rest of the dumpling and meat inside.  Georgian tradition requires you to leave the knot on your plate.  It shows that you’re so wealthy you can afford to leave a portion on your plate.

Khinkali are served five or six to a serving, so they’re the perfect appetizer to share.  I say that but I’ve seen Georgians who can eat 20 or so by themselves.  While I do like khinkali, eating 20 at one sitting is not a goal of mine.

These delights are washed down with a choice of beverages.  My favorites are Natakhtani (“na-tock-tawney”), the local beer.  You can buy a half-liter in any restaurant or grocery store for about $2-3.  It’s a pilsner with a nice, clean taste and a foamy head.  It seems to go well with everything, especially after you’ve had two or three of them. 

I also like drinking Borjomi (“bore-shommy”), a sparkling mineral water.  You can really taste the minerals in the water, but it’s not an unpleasant taste.  At least I enjoy it, and it’s a good alternative when you don’t want beer (like at breakfast).  And, of course, Georgia is famous for its wines.  Almost every house has an arbor from which families make their own wine.  There are stores dedicated to nothing but wine, and the varieties are mind-boggling.  E.g., right now the featured wines in the stores are semi-dry and dry whites.  Apparently, different wines are featured at different times of the year.  I’m not a wine drinker so I can’t make any recommendations; I’ll leave that to my wife after she visits.

They have ethnic restaurants in Tbilisi as well.  We went to a Chinese place a couple of nights ago.  It was familiar food but the ordering is a bit different.  In the US, you order kung pao chicken, you get the chicken w/ vegetables, rice, and an egg roll or soup.  In Georgia, everything is á la carte.  For instance, if you order kung pao chicken that’s what you get – kung pao chicken.  No rice, no egg roll, no soup.  If you want those items, you have to order them separately.  They’re insanely cheap – a bowl of steamed rice was about 50 cents – but you have to remember to order them.

Now on to the more disturbing part of eating in Georgia.  Those of you who have weak stomachs or don’t know how sausage is made might want to stop reading here. 

OK, you asked for it.  I don’t think there’s an FDA in this country, and sanitation doesn’t seem to be at the forefront of any chef’s dinner plans.  Meat is often sold street-side from butcher shops populated by hairy, greasy men.  See the photos below for a typical street-side butcher shop.  We walked by this one early in the morning, when I took these pictures.  About four hours later, on a 50⁰F day, the same meat was sitting in the same bins. 

You don’t have to buy your meat from these shops.  You can also get them in your local grocery store.  You can buy it whole, as shown in the picture, or you can have the store prepare it for you, also shown in the picture.  The skin is nice and crisp, but there’s a garlic clove inserted every 3” in the meat, and I’m not a garlic fan, to say the least.

Buying fish is another story.  Fish are caught in the River Mtkvari (your pronunciation guess is good as mine here), the river that runs right through the heart of Tbilisi.  The water is green.  I don’t mean slightly green; I mean dyed-green-for-St.-Patrick’s-Day green.  It’s also filled with trash, industrial waste, and God knows what else.  Carp from this river is also sold at street-side stands where the fish are gutted and hung on a rope like clothesline until purchased, even if that’s a whole day.  Needless to say, I can’t recommend the fish. 

On the whole, though, I’ve really enjoyed eating and drinking my way through Tbilisi.  I still miss my personal favorites – Debbie’s chili w/ dumplings, a rack of ribs, and good ol’ American hot dogs – but I can’t complain so far.  Thank God the hotel has a gym. 

Thanks for reading and enjoy the pictures below.  See you again soon when I’ll be writing about the architecture of Tbilisi.        

Initial thoughts

So, I’ve been incountry all of 36 hours now, about half of which were spent catching up on sleep and trying to overcome jet lag.  But I’m back to “normal” now and have had my first look around Tbilisi.  Woke up this morning to 31⁰F and snowing, but we still managed to get out and look around.   Here are some initial thoughts, in no particular order:

The cops drive around with their flashing lights on all the time.  I’m told it’s so they can be more easily seen.  If they want to pull you over, they hit their siren and wave their arm out the window.  People drive very fast here, lane markings and speed limits are merely suggestions, and the right of way follows the rules of physics:  faster and bigger vehicles go first.  Honking the horn every block seems to be required, and turn signals are optional.  Parking is first-come, first-serve in any (and I mean ANY) available space.  Why waste a perfectly good sidewalk when you can park on it?

The entire city of Tbilisi is under construction.  The national bird seems to be the crane.  But, really, that term “under construction” is a bit of a misnomer.  There is a lot of construction that has been started, and, for varying reasons, sits unfinished.  In some cases, the builder ran out of money; in others, construction began before acquiring the necessary permits, and was halted by the authorities until said paperwork is obtained.  For whatever reason, there are a lot of half-finished buildings all over the city.  Even unfinished, though, they’re more attractive than the Soviet-era buildings put up in the 1980s.  Those are uniformly cinder block rectangles, each uglier than its neighbor.  Painting, when done, is an afterthought, and lots of buildings are only painted on the side facing the street.  Sides and backs are bare concrete.  Tbilisi in the daytime is not an attractive city.  They do have a way around that, however.  Lots of buildings currently under construction or renovation hang a huge, painted canvas in front of the building, showing you how the building should or will look.  They’re very realistic.  I didn’t realize the bank across the street from our hotel (we’re staying at the Marriott on Freedom Square) had a “faux front” until the wind moved the canvas. 

Oh, and while I’m on architecture:  The drain pipes don’t go all the way to the ground.  They stop halfway down the buildings and drain from there, making a shower about head high you have to walk around.  You can see what I'm talking about in the picture below. 

Women, regardless of age, worship the high heel.  Even in snow, stiletto, 5” heels are the fashion of the day.  They’re worn with jeans, too.  Now, I’m certainly not a fashion maven, (just ask anyone who’s seen me dressed to go out) but even I shake my head at this fashion statement.  Even women begging in front of the international hotels (and there are a lot of those) are wearing high heels. 

We drove to the National Training Center for the Georgian Army to turn in some paperwork and pick up mail this afternoon, and once out of the city, Georgia is a rural society.  Cattle graze wherever the grass grows, even right up to the edge of the road.  Goats and sheep are a fixture of the landscape, and you can’t swing a cat by the tail without hitting a stray dog.  The terrain is very hilly and often quite steep.  It’s a pretty country and I can’t wait to see it in the spring.  Or at least not covered by snow. 

We went to the Goodwill store today.  Not what you’re thinking.  The Goodwill store is a Super Walmart on steroids.  They have EVERYTHING there – a cigar shop, a kiosk that sells beer by the liter in plastic bottles, a gun shop, a bakery, a grocery store, a hardware store, an electronics section that rivals Best Buy, a coffee shop, and just about everything else one could want.  The prices are a bit higher than you can find elsewhere, but, my God, the convenience!  A picture of the store's front is down below.

Also had a bite in a small café that makes the best beef and cheese bread in Tbilisi.  These are the national foods of Georgia:  bread baked with cheese and bread baked with beef.  They make it the old fashioned way:  women dump flower and water (I don’t think they use yeast) and whatever else they need into this huge tub and mix the dough with their hands.  Their arms, actually, since the tub goes past their elbows.  Then the dough is dropped onto a stone oven and baked.  It comes out flat and shaped like a trapezoid.  Cheese and/or beef is then spooned into the middle and the whole things goes back on the stones until melted.  It is delicious. See the pictures at the end of this blog. 

Well, that’s about it for my first 36 hours in country.  We’re heading to Gori, where our offices are located, tomorrow, so I’ll have another opportunity to see the sights. 

Thanks for reading.

The Georgian Butcher Dance

Hi, all.

I've been reading about Georgian culture and one item just fascinated me.  It's called the Georgian Butcher Dance, and, having married into a family of dancers, I had to look deeply into it.  The Butcher Dance is done in small villages in the North Caucasus Mountains.  These villages are very remote so the Butcher dance is rarely seen by outsiders.  The dance occurs every year, twice a year, at the equinoxes.  It starts with the village electing a tshkvili (shock-veeley), usually the wisest elder in the village.  The tshkvili sets the exact time for the dance, sometimes at noon, other times at midnight. 

When the time for the Butcher Dance approaches, the villagers dress in their traditional costumes and come to the "town square" for lack of a better word.  The tshkvili separates them by gender and orders the villagers to form a huge circle, men on the north side of the circle and women on the south side (I imagine having women on the southern side of the circle has something to do with fertility, the southern part of the village getting the most sun and getting it earlier in the day.)  When the circle is formed, the tshkvili enters the circle and begins to chant, thanking God for watching over the village the past year and asking Him to continue to watch over them in the upcoming year.  His chanting reaches a crescendo as the villagers watch in absolute silence. 

When the tension is at its very peak, the tshkvili sings in a big, booming voice, "You butcher right arm in, you butcher right arm out, You butcher right arm in and you shake it all about..."