Tbilisi on Caffeine and Adrenaline

James (from Wisconsin), Zach (from Vancouver), and I were the only people awake when breakfast first started this morning, so we left everyone else snoozing in their beds and went out for a stroll.  After some very confusing directions from a police officer (which included a debate about the proper marshutka number with a random passer- by pulled into the discussion), we gave up and got a cab.  Since we didn't have an actual destination, we just told the cab driver to take us to Rustavelli Ave, a big street in the historic and touristy region.  One very frightening ride later (Georgians drive like maniacs), he dropped his off in front of a statue.

Who is this guy?

Proving that I have no shame, I asked some guy hanging out in his car nearby.  Basically, I pointed and said, "That.  Who?"  Turns out the cab driver dropped us off in front of the statue of the poet Rustavelli.  Go figure.  It's a very nicely situated statue, though.  We wandered around the  area and saw good things and strange things and some very interesting artwork. 

Charlie Chaplin, according to the plaque

Random saxophone played walking through the wall

One of the coolest things about Tbilisi is the way centuries-old buildings are standing adjacent to ultra-modern architecture.

This bridge is right next to ...

... this really old church.

After a brief return to the hotel for lunch, I headed out again with a bunch of other TLGers to see the markets of Old Tbilisi.  Lots of tea at lunch.... 

We ran into a particularly persistent family of beggars.

The farmer's market was pretty amazing.  Rows of vendors selling fruits and vegetables I've never heard of and can't even pronounce now that I know them.  

I could pronounce those.  Tow-mae-toes.

Olly (from England), Michelle (from New Zealand), and I got lost in a twisting labyrinth of a bazaar under an old round-about, in what looked like an abandoned subway tunnel.  I got a chance to practice my Georgian with lots of vendors down there, and managed to bargain a bit using a pidgin mix of Russian and Georgian.  

This is Olly, disappearing into the maze.

So, I survived a ride in a Tbilisi taxi, was jerked out of the path of a speeding marshutka by a particularly alert Georgian, nearly got caught in a closing door of a moving train, and spent about twelve hours traipsing about the city on no sleep and lots of tea.  I am going to bed now.  Before I go, please enjoy one last parting image of Georgia.

This is how Georgians mark pedestrian crossings.  This is how we have to cross Georgian streets.

This city is incredible.  I know bodishi (pardon me), gamardjobat (hello), and gmadlobadt (thank you), and everyone I meet is my friend if I know those three words.  Navkhamdis!  (good-bye)