Scenes From Tbilisi (Tbilisi, Georgia)

May 25^th, 2010 - I have been in Georgia's capital for about nine days. Thus far I walked about a total of fifty miles, ate a poop ton of pork and cheese pie, had a few alcoholic dalliances, been denied entry to a casino for wearing 'sporting clothes and slippers', inadvertently instigated a rather heated altercation (again), was mesmerized by the Georgian National Ballet and met a hostel owner named Dodo.

Georgia wants tourists. It really, really does. No visa required for a stay up to 360 days. That's not a typo. They smile when you come across the border. I like smiling. That may not seem like much but after leaving a land where capricious grinning appears to be outlawed (Azerbaijan) I found this simple act of graciousness to be extremely pleasant.

There is a lot to take in here and I am currently constructing my plan of attack to get the most out of the country. I am so determined I may just rent a car even though it is unwise monetarily. Aren't I the crazy bastard?

Tbilisi is a fascinating place, rich in history, visually alluring, and retains just a smidge of post-Soviet intrigue. The name literally means 'warm spring' and there are a few legends surrounding the city's origin. Sometime in the 5^th century AD the founder, Vakhtang Gorgasali, killed a pheasant which then fell into a hot sulfur spring, was spontaneously cooked, and became a savory meal.

Independence Day (Tbilisi, Georgia)

May 28^th, 2010 - There is a legend in Georgia that goes a something like this: After God created the world he then began doling out land to his folks. Well, as it happened the Georgians were so busy feasting and celebrating they missed the lottery. When they finally did show up they were displeased to discover that there was nowhere left for them to settle. Upon taking their grievance to God they were told that it was too late and that drinking wine like it was 1999 was no excuse for their absence.

However, when the Georgians explained that God was the reason for their celebration and that they had spent the whole time toasting to his greatness God had a change of heart. In fact, he was so honored that he gave them the land he was reserving for himself (as this was the most beautiful place on earth). He gave them Georgia.

This might be one reason why, throughout history, empires (Romans, Turks, Arabs, Persians, Russians) have made invasion a regular habit. Being at the nexus of Europe and Asia does not exactly help either. Through it all the Georgians have managed to remain, well, Georgian. It has not always been easy. It still isn't.

May 26^th is Georgia's Independence Day celebration but it does not commemorate the event you might think, i.e. the country's liberation from the Soviet Union in 1991 (April 9^th was the date of that). Instead it celebrates the country's first liberation from Russia in 1918 that materialized as a result of the Russian Civil War. It was short-lived as the Red Army marched on Tbilisi in February of 1921. The U.S.S.R is no more. The Cold War is a thing of the past. Super. Someone might want to inform the Kremlin.

Roei, Frode, & Dodo (Dodo's Homestay - Tbilisi, Georgia)

June 1^st, 2010 – Time to mutilate yet another language. Russian is my new target. I figure it would help to know a few words before I start fumbling my way through the countryside. Can't wait to unleash 'I am eating soup' at just the right moment (only slightly more useful than 'My foot is caught in the blender'). Trust me when I tell you I will dazzle. I would learn a bit of Georgian but it has no application outside of Georgia. That and there are words that have as many as six consecutive consonants. Farg that.

The owner of my homestay is a 70-year-old woman named Dodo (Dodo's Homestay). Dodo is a common name here but I just can't get used to respectfully referring to someone as 'Dodo'. Feels a little too much like I'm calling her a dumbass: Excuse me Dumbass, how much to have my laundry done? Dumbass, do you know where I could find a Russian tutor? Coffee? That would be great Dumbass.

There is a brand of toilet paper here that I have affectionately designated Soviet Soft. It has the texture of burlap and one must take care not to scrap one's rim clean off. I recommend splurging on an upgrade. Or just use your hand. Actually, it is probably better to just go ahead and shit in your pants as opposed to subjecting your poop chute to the ordeal.

Hurricane 'Olef' (Tbilisi, Georgia)

June 14^th, 2010 - I'm an asshole. If you can't say (or write) anything nice then you should not say it at all. I cannot help myself. I am an asshole. Enter Olef. I am not sure 'Olef' is the correct spelling but to be honest I am not entirely certain 'Olef' knows how to spell 'Olef'. He is a Swedish dude I met at my homestay a few nights previously. He is a catastrophe, the quintessential human train wreck. Might as well just call him Katrina. Our first introduction was at about 3 am when I went to the toilet passing him in the kitchen in front of his computer on the way. He was smashed. No problem. We've all been there. The thing is I never met sober Olef. When I did speak to him the next morning I discovered that he never went to bed. He had trouble walking upright and was mildly incoherent. Apparently, Olef has some sort of work-related disability (something with his arm) that requires him to wash down pain killers with large volumes of alcohol.

When he spoke to me the next morning it was to ask if I'd seen his cell phone and then to request that I call said phone in order to locate it. I obliged. After about eight rings it was answered……by the Australian guy sitting in the common area adjacent to the garden at our guest house. It was in Olef's jacket pocket, a jacket he had walked past a good dozen times that morning in search of his phone.

Just to make sure he had not sobered up Olef purchased an additional big ass jug of wine for breakfast. Later, on my way out of the kitchen Olef asked me if I'd seen his laptop (his enormous-could-I-choose-a-buliker-more-inconvenient-computer-for-travel laptop), as it was missing from the table with only his power adapter on the floor to indicate its absence. I had not. I emerged from the guesthouse to discover that it was sitting on a table outside. I pointed this out to Olef who replied, "Oh yeah, sorry, sorry." He had just put it there moments before. 

Random Georgia (Tbilisi, Georgia)

June 16^th, 2010 - During the South Ossetia War of 2008 the Georgian military was scrambling to call up much needed reserve units. In a move that boggles the mind they announced the names of units being activated and mobilization rendezvous points……ON TELEVISION!!!!!! No need for reconnaissance just turn on the f***ing TV and plan your bombing campaign accordingly. Seriously?

Want to make a statement in Georgia? Go on a hunger strike. In a land where the supra reigns supreme and counting the piles of plates left on a table after an obnoxious celebratory feast is considered a barometer for measuring a family's wealth refusing to eat is like refusing to breathe. Tsotne Gamsakhurdia (a Georgian man arrested for espionage and the son of the former president Zviad Gamsakhurdia) gave it a go. He claimed to eat or drink nothing for 120 days. Sure that is physically impossible but he got his point across….I think. Not really sure what his point was. I can lie about eating? These people are serious about food. And drinking. Burp.

Speaking of alcohol, traditional Georgian wine making practices date back to 6000 BC. They know wine. And they drink a shitload of it.

Georgians appear to be smitten with McDonalds (can you say McSupra?). There are three in Tbilisi and every time I pass one it is packed. And it ain't cheap as a meal for one person could easily set you back $15US. Ronald McDonald kicks ass.

Rough Patch - Stuck In A Pile Of Quick Shit (Tbilisi, Georgia)

July 8^th, 2010 - So I hit a wall, although it felt more like a wall hit me. Tired, sick, and in the throes of an existential crisis, for the first time on this trip I seriously considered packing it in and heading home. What the hell am I doing? Seriously? It is going on two years that I have not worked, a year and a half of that spent wandering the globe. Am I mental? I have absolutely no idea what the hell it is I am going to do when I return home. Who the f#$% does that?

Some people choose drugs, alcohol, or gambling as a path to self-destruction. Am I really any different? Dunno. I studied philosophy in college. There's a golden resume nugget. I went to law school, passed the NY bar exam, and then blew the whole career directly out of my ass. Way to work it through. I then parted ways with the realm of reason and rationality. I joined the US Army. Take average human being. Add three years of law school and lightly sprinkle in (or is it mash violently?) three and a half years of military extravaganza (I voluntary extricated myself before my five year term was up. Yes, it is a long story). Top off with two and a half years employed on a military base on the edge of Baghdad. What you have is a recipe for one cynical muther f@#$er!!!! You also have keen insight as to why I might need to roam the earth for a spell. That's right. Get into my head. Chaotic but fun.

Sadly, I've spent an inordinate amount of time in Georgia trying to figure out what to do next….in Georgia. I've been stagnant before but this time it is like being stuck in a pile of quick shit (like quick sand but fecal in nature). I believe I've become a quasi-member of the family at my homestay in Tbilisi. I've actually heard someone refer to the 'American guy's room'. A few more nights and I believe I get my name on the door. I blame the Georgian Foreign Ministry. There is no visa requirement for citizens of the USA (and some other countries) for stays less than 360 days. 360 days? I have never heard of such a thing. Not a good way to light a fire under my ass. I am considering a Breakaway Republic Caucasus Tour 2010 that would include Abkhazia and South Ossetia in Georgia (or is it Russia?) and Nagorno-Karabakh in Armenia (or is it Azerbaijan?). 

Georgian Hospitality (Tbilisi, Georgia)

July 11^th, 2010 - I finally spent quality time with the locals. My friend Shota drove me, his friend Koka (also Georgian), and a visiting Texan named Robert to his village outside of Tbilisi for some quintessential Georgian hospitality. Shota's family is extremely warm and friendly. We were showered with cheerful smiles, tons of food, and delicious homemade wine. His home became my home for the duration of my visit. I am extremely grateful.

It was my first peek at a marani (Georgian wine cellar) where Shota's family produces its own wine with grapes plucked from the vines hanging over the courtyard. It was also my first taste of Gerogian chacha, the local firewater. Stored in large glass jugs containing sticks of oak to add color and flavor it tastes, at least to me, like some sort of twisted combination of vodka and tequila. Yummy nummy. Not quite. In the immortal words of Ralph Wiggum, it "tastes like burning!"

Shota, being the host and designated tamada (toastmaster), raised glass after glass of wine to Georgia, to his loving family, to his new friends, and to everyone's continued happiness. Such toasts are an inextricable part of Georgian society and a phenomenon of which I am quite fond.