The homestays in Georgia are connected to each other by a network of personal acquaintances between owners, and once you stayed in one, the owner will always refer you to a friend in the next city you’re going to. We found this to be quite useful, and when Gia, our host in Mestia, offered us direct drop-off at Irine’s house in Tbilisi, we agreed right away.
Irine owns a large two-floor apartment near the center of the city, and for the last 15 years she’s been hosting travelers in it. With time her place became Tbilisi’s Backpacker Central, and Irine its mother and president. She takes her matriarchal role very seriously — she even refers to her guests as her children. Always with a cigarette between two fingers, she splits her day between three comfortable chairs in the house: one in the kitchen, another in the living room and another at the computer by the reception desk. Other people are doing the chores; she presides over the parade, and entertains herself and the guests. With a funny story ready for every situation, Irine is quite a delight.
We took Tbilisi slowly. The city center is small and easily explored on foot in a couple of days. The outlying neighborhoods is where life actually happens — that’s where you find the shops, street sellers, beggars, and busy streets. The Soviets contributed their standard-issue metro and it helps a lot in tying the city together. All in all, Tbilisi feels smaller than it really is.
In our rounds through Tbilisi’s churches we were lucky enough to witness a baptism and a wedding, the first time for me to see those Christian ceremonies in real life.
After returning to Tbilisi for the second time, from Kazbegi, and spending another day there, we decided that while we’re waiting for our visas to Azerbaijan, we’ll make a little detour to Armenia. It is possible to get to Yerevan, Armenia’s capital, by a six-hour minibus ride, and that’s how most people usually do it; we however chose the 12-hour train, and to make things even more fun, we chose a private two-bed cabin. As the train rolled out of the station, we stood in the aisle by the window, looking at the moving picture outside, breathing the fresh air, and wondering why people ever use any other transport than trains. In a minibus you can’t wait for the ride to be over; in a train you don’t want it to ever end.
Towards the evening we got to the border; after getting our passports stamped, we retired to bed. Our “provodnitsa” (carriage attendant) woke us up in the morning, just as the train was rolling near the Turkish border towards Yerevan, with a magnificent view of mount Ararat lit by the first rays of the rising sun — this majestic mountain, now in Turkish territory but still a symbol of Armenia, looking over Yerevan from across the border.
Yerevan, like Tbilisi, is a small capital, with much the same vibe. Post-Soviet capitals are similar to each other — they have been reborn and are looking for direction; there is new money, but it’s not quite clear what to do with it. New buildings in various different styles are constructed, while infrastructure and roads are neglected; the result is that the city lacks a distinct character. It’s really hard to imagine that those cities are actually centuries-old.
We intended to go on after one day but I got a stiff neck and now I’m sitting like a statue. I can’t even imagine putting a backpack on at this point. So for now we’re stuck in Yerevan. While we’re stuck, we decided to celebrate 7 months of marriage and 2 months of travel with a meal in a fancy Italian restaurant. If all goes well, we’ll leave Yerevan tomorrow.
May 23, 2011