Postcards from the Road in Georgia 🇬🇪: Tbilisi-Kobuleti
In Georgia, I discovered that my sister-in-law’s sister’s sister-in-law is also my family. And that the Black Sea eats glasses.
Renting a van in Tbilisi
But first: the adventure of renting a van to haul 8 across the country — a little country, but still.
We met with the lady just after 8pm on Friday. Seeing her obstructionist energy, my first thought was that she wouldn’t rent to us. She knew we were coming, but the vehicle was not ready and so we all waited. “10 minutes” she said.
But in Georgian, 10 minutes is a signifier for maybe later, not a literal 10 minutes.
She had quite a loud discussion with my brother-in-law Levan, but they both assured me there was no argument.
I thought she was negatively assessing my sons and nephews, weighing how much damage she thought they’d do to her car.
I was correct.
Although she presented herself as a regular car rental business, she took only cash, so Levan escorted me to a currency exchange open at 9:45 pm.
There I had to make the case that my US bills were legitimate, but that’s a whole other story.
We returned to the car rental lady and she started arguing again. Levan took me by the elbow and steered me into his car.
The deal was off.
I practiced my something much better is on the way attitude.
The next morning, my sister-in-law Maia found a larger and more comfortable van from an agency with a storefront. But they still wouldn’t take my credit card. It’s a cash society. And they took my deposit in USD. When we returned, Levan woke the owner in his apartment to make sure my deposit was returned in USD, bless him.
We drove to my other brother-in-law’s (Vakhtang) work and picnicked with giant shawarmas. My youngest is still talking about how cheap shawarmas are here compared to Canada.
Kobuleti-Batumi
Traffic was heavy in the drive through the mountains to Batumi. The highway is being rebuilt and expanded by China, section by section. So it was like driving on the autobahn and then suddenly shifting off that to drive on a 2 lane state highway, back-and-forth all the way.
We arrived very late, but in true Georgian style, Maia’s sister Bela and her husband Zurah served us a wonderful meal. Their son, who’s learned excellent English mostly from YouTube, served as our interpreter during our visit. We walked 2 blocks to the Black Sea and the men and boys went swimming at midnight.
Knowing my love of gardens, the next day we visited The Musicians Garden and the Dendrological Park.
Musicians Garden
The Musicians Garden features bronze sculptures of famous musicians, Georgian and foreign, recent and from previous centuries. As you approach, motion sensors trigger songs by the artist. It’s a beautiful woodland garden, with wooden sculptures throughout. Every bench is uniquely carved too.
Shekvetili Dendrological Park
I grew up in Ft. Worth, Texas, where rich oilmen competed over who could build the best museum, so I’m familiar with oligarchic control of culture. There are incredible community advantages, but also some disturbing results. The Dendrological Gardens is a gift by Batumi native oligarch, founder of the Georgian Dream party, and former Prime Minister Bidzina Ivanishivili. I have no idea why it’s not called an arboretum. The garden is only 4 or 5 years old, but looks old and established because he hauled in ancient trees from all over the world. It really is a testament to what can be accomplished with unlimited funds. It is a beautiful, restful garden, but I must wonder about the human and environmental costs of impatience and grand visions.
The glasses-eating Black Sea
So how did this happen, you might ask. How did a woman of reasonable intelligence jump into a sea with her glasses on in the first place?
Well reader, my eyesight is very bad. I’m essentially blind without my glasses or contacts. The Sea was crowded and I wanted to keep an eye on my boys. Not that I needed to – my 2 older boys are both lifeguards and even my youngest is now a stronger swimmer than I am. My eldest and youngest took care to leave their glasses behind. My middle son wore disposable contacts. I just didn’t think it through.
And so after a few glorious minutes, a big wave hit and swept my brand new glasses away.
Everyone looked for awhile, but we knew the chances of finding them were minuscule. Levan had to escort me back, leading me like the blind woman I was, with Bela’s translator son describing every hazard, step, and turn along the way.
Back at the house, I researched some medication for Bela’s mother-in-law, at her sister-in-law’s request, reading on my phone a couple of inches from my nose. After my mother-in-law’s stroke, our experience with doctors in Georgia is they don’t share much information and informed consent is not the norm. So I was quickly able to identify each medication and what it was used for, and which ones are also used in North America. It was a small thing, but made me feel like I was contributing something, even in my mostly blind state.
That evening Bela served the best Adjarian Khachapuri I’ve ever had. I asked what sort of cheese was on it and her son shrugged and said, I dunno, they made it today. Now that’s dedication! I will ask for the recipe and if she’s willing to share it (she might not be, it may be a trade secret because she is a professional baker) I’ll see if I can come close to replicating it at home. It certainly made me feel better.
I’m grateful that I was surrounded by family. Can you imagine navigating to an opticians in a country where the you don’t speak the language when you can’t see? I’m grateful that the really stupid thing on our trip was caused by me and not my boys. I’m grateful my neighbour was able to text me my prescription, 16 hours before I could have gotten it from my optometrist. And I’m sure I will now always bring backup glasses or contacts.
Next time: eyeball stretching, citrus groves, and Dave’s Aunt Nellie