From the Kackar mountains we descended to the Black Sea coast, and crossed the border from Sarp, Turkey, to Sarpi, Georgia. Land border crossings are rarely attractive places, and this one was no exception: busy, noisy, bustling with people walking around lines of rumbling trucks waiting to cross the border. Georgians return from Turkey loaded with bags of merchandise, everything from toys to kitchenware, which is a surprise since so far everything seems a lot cheaper here in Georgia. People are pushing and shoving each other for access to the passport control windows, but usually without much violence. A man who stood before me saw my backpacks and straw hat and asked, “Tourist?” I said yes, and he smiled and waved me and Dana before him. We smiled back and politely refused. Despite the chaos, people don’t lose their temper and civility.
Once in Georgia, the first shock is alphabetic: Georgian is a language dissimilar to any other on the planet, and so is its alphabet. At once everything around you becomes unreadable. Fortunately place names are often written in Latin alphabet alongside the Georgian, and we found our “marshrutka” (Russian, and Georgian, for minibus) to the town of Batumi rather quickly.
Other changes abound, too. Gone are the minarets, replaced by crosses. This is a temporary change; once we cross from Georgia into Azerbaijan, we’ll be back in Muslim territory. The Russian language now made its appearance; it seems to be the lingua franca of the region — if you don’t speak the local language, you’re assumed to speak Russian. This is actually quite handy: we lost the ability to read and gained the ability to converse at the same moment. We will have this privilege until we leave Central Asia for China, the land in which all travelers are deaf and mute.
Batumi is a relaxed, low-profile city that comes alive in the summer; at the moment it’s being prepared for the season by having all of its roads dug up and open. Due to the rain, unexpected at this time of year, the city as a whole is a giant puddle of mud, save for a couple of avenues along the coast which had been repaved previously, and thus left untouched now. That part is quite beautiful. On the first day, without intending it, we walked into a Turkish restaurant in the afternoon and a Turkish bar in the evening. It’s hard to let go of Turkey. On the next day we finally had some Georgian treats: khinkali, which are beautiful and delicious meat dumplings; kharcho soup, made with meat, bones, and vegetables, heavily spiced; and a bottle of Kindzmarauli, the semi-sweet Georgian wine.
We stayed in a family house, as is common here in Georgia — old, large apartments, owned by middle-aged Georgians, often helped by their kids, replace the usual hostels. The rooms are outfitted with decrepit Soviet-era furniture, which gives them a distinct look, as well as smell. It is not as bad as it sounds, and actually elicits some nostalgic feelings. It certainly drives home the point that we’re now in a different country, a different world.
We didn’t intend to stay in Batumi for long; the rain made it clear we should move on, but we decided to spend one day there nevertheless. We walked around the foggy city, dodging puddles and hectic drivers, until we stumbled upon a building that looked like a theater. There was a commotion around it, and we walked inside. In the lobby were groups of kids, dressed in what appeared like traditional clothes, practicing dancing moves. We found the main performance hall and were amazed by what we saw. A show was going on, featuring troupes from all over the country performing traditional dances. These were kids of all ages, and they were amazingly talented. Some danced to live accordion music, some to recorded songs; some featured throwing knives into the stage floor, some involved acrobatics. We couldn’t believe how we just walked in there by chance, and ended up staying in there for four hours, mesmerized, leaving only when the show was over.
The next day we folded our stuff and left in the direction of the Kavkaz mountains up north.
May 14, 2011