May 22, 2023
This morning there was no compelling reason to look out the window. There were no mountains, nor cable cars flying overhead. My new Ramada hotel was shiny and modern, but it was more of a business hotel and could have been almost anywhere in the world. All I could see out my window was the hotel restaurant, where I had dined and been disappointed the night before.
I was down to my last two days of my Georgia tour and was tired of hotels and a more than a bit homesick. I find that I am good for about a month of travel at a one time. Then I want to be back in my own bed in our little town in Newfoundland where I live with my wonderful wife of over 40 years and our latest senior rescue dog, Zoe, a 12-year-old mix of what we think might be Lab and Siberian Husky. She joined us two years ago and like many rescue dogs, came with some health and behavior issues (rashes, huge separation anxiety, and an aversion to other dogs) that make it complicated to get someone to dog sit, a major reason that I travel solo. Zoe might make joint travel impossible, but I do miss her when I am away. I missed my wife, too.
It did not take long to find out that I would get much better breakfast service here. To start, there was food, including a large supply of fruit, yoghurt, and pastries, along with various warm dishes. There was an espresso machine. I asked for a small plate and immediately had helpers on both sides of me. The staff were all young and enthusiastic. They took my plates the second they were empty, or if I was not eating fast enough, just before. I had demanded a better hotel, and Sakura had arranged it.
The room was full of uniformed EU people. I asked one to explain and was told that they were here to provide disaster relief training. Everyone seemed quite relaxed except for a man who was not sporting the EU attire. He looked very much the tourist in his cargo shorts (full disclosure, I wear only convertible cargo pants on my travels, but generally keep the bottom parts attached). He was upset that his toast had only browned on one side and was loudly informing the staff that the hotel needed to replace the toaster.
Things had been a bit tense between Sergio and me when he had dropped me the day before. I even made a list of things that were bothering me so that we could have a discussion. He messaged me that he might be late. I thought, “Here we go again”, but then he arrived just after 9 am in a nice clean car. He told me that he had driven about 1.5 hours to get to the hotel. He was in a good mood. I forgot all about the list.
My Georgia trip was based on one of Sakura’s standard tours and had taken me twice into the mountains. I thought it would be interesting to see the agricultural area east of the capital, especially the area with the wineries, so this day was a late addition to the itinerary.
We drove east out of the city. Although we could see mountains in the distance, the road was relatively straight, certainly compared to the mountain roads of the past many days. Sergio pulled over at a small shop and told me that this was the place to buy dried fruit, much better and cheaper than the dried fruit sold at the tourist stops. He suggested that I might want to take some home, but I had no room for extras in my little suitcase. Sergio bought some for himself. I enjoyed some samples.
Sergio pointed out an old tractor on a pedestal. He said that it was the first mechanical tractor in Georgia and wanted me to take a photograph. I did.
From there we went to The Monastery of St. Nino at Bodbe. The structures were originally built in the 9th century. The monastery is now a nunnery and is a pilgrimage site. According to Georgian legend, St. Nino converted the Georgian queen and subsequently the pagan king in the 4th century. The grounds are quite beautiful with vineyards and rosebushes tended by the nuns. The complex sits on a hillside with a view of the mountains.
I visited the washrooms. An old lady at the entrance told me that I had to pay. Just like in Turkey, one has to pay to pee in Georgia. A man arrived as I was leaving and just ignored her. Maybe he could just not hold it any longer.
Our next destination was the city of Sighnaghi. We could see it in the distance so I asked Sergio to pull over so I could get a couple of photographs.
Signaghi is an extremely lovely city with mountain views and interesting architecture. Sergio sent me on my own and told me that he would be waiting at the other end of town. I bought a sweet bun that came directly from the oven. It was quite delicious but gave me a bit of a sugar jolt.
I listened to a street musician in the park.
And then I found a latte.
There was a For Sale sign on a house, but I did not inquire about the price. That is a bit of a family joke since when we visited Newfoundland, we saw a For Sale sign and ended up buying a house, even though we had no such plans before our trip. It is now our home. We now joke about buying a house anytime we are in a nice place. Signaghi seemed to be a wonderful place to have a home.
I found Sergio and we left Sighnaghi. We encountered more school graduates along the highway. Either the celebrations went on for more than one day or the school closing dates were not all the same. This time the traffic was in front of us. We were stopped at what appeared to be a traffic accident, although it did not seem to be serious.
Considering the way that the students were driving, with many hanging out the windows, I was not surprised that there would be accidents. As wild as they were, they were obviously sanctioned, as police cars led them down the road.
Our main destination for the day was the Khareba Winery where wine is stored in a giant cave built into the side of a hill. Sergio and I did a tour with a young couple. They provided blankets since it was cool in the caves. There were different priced tours, based on the number of samples one was provided. For some reason I chose a cheaper one, so I missed out on some of the tasting. The wine was really good, and I found the visit interesting, but it was not a big highlight of my trip.
We encountered more graduates on the road to Nekresi Monastery. The monastery sits high on a hill, Mount Nekresi, and is accessible via a steep, winding road. Visitors must take a shuttle bus to the top. We arrived at the parking lot and found a batch of graduates. They seemed to be everywhere. I preferred the graduate tourist site visitors to the ones hanging out of the cars.
There were also a few Korean tourists. I chatted with one of the Korean men while we waited for the bus. I told him of the many Korean tour groups I had met. He wondered if they had been loud. I told him that they were fine. The bus came down the hill, and after many graduates spilled out, we were driven to the top of the hill.
The buildings date back as far as the 4th century.
Looking below I could see the excavated ruins of the ancient city of Nekres, which existed from the 2nd century BC.
We had one more stop before returning to Tbilisi. Gremi was the capital of the Kingdom of Kakheti in the 16th and 17th centuries and was a trading town on the Silk Road. A Georgian Orthodox Cathedral was built on the hill in 1565 and is all that remains of the city. The rest was destroyed by the Persians in 1615. Sergio had wanted me to see the museum, but it was closed. We did run into my latest Korean friend on our way back to the car. We greeted as old friends.
Traffic was not bad on our way back into Tbilisi. I asked Sergio to drop me in my “old neighborhood’, near my first hotel in the Old City.
I decided to try the Moroccan restaurant that I had seen the other evening. I sat down at an outside table. I was the only customer. The menu did not seem as authentic as I had hoped but ordered a chicken tajine and a hummus to start along with a beer. Just like my first dining experience in the capital, it began to rain and that quickly became a hard downpour. I was under an awning but finally gave up and moved inside. The beer was good, the tajine mediocre, and the hummus no better than what we buy in our local supermarket.
The rain had stopped by the time that I had finished. It was almost 9 pm and time to walk back to the hotel. I quickly forgot the disappointing meal and was once again enthralled with the Old Town at night.
I crossed the bridge and began my uphill walk. It was not pleasant with the fast traffic on the narrow streets. It took me about 20 minutes to get back to the hotel.
I talked to Po on WhatsApp and got to see Zoe. She phoned back to complain that a ceiling light had burned out. Changing light bulbs is one of my domestic duties, but there was not much I could from Georgia.
This featured blog entry was written by Bob Brink from the blog Searching for Magical Moments.
Read comments or Subscribe
By 