Marianabat

Babua, grandfather, told me last night that we would be having a picnic for Marianabat.  According to my research (asking Kelsey), Marianabat is the Feast of the Ascension of Mary in the Georgian Orthodox calendar.  Grandmother spent the whole morning at church while Maka and Maya spent the whole morning cooking.  I spent the morning being shooed out of the kitchen and talking to the pigs. 

This is my new best friend.  I call him Hank.

Just after noon, we all got into Babua’s old Impala with baskets of chicken and bread and tomatoes.  And wine.  Lots of wine.  Wine in what looks like gasoline cans.  Babua drove us up the mountain on roads that really didn’t look like roads.  The roads on the mountain are in such bad repair that I could feel the rocks scraping the underside of the car beneath my feet several times.  I’m pretty sure we drove through peoples’ orchards. 

Not a dry stream bed.  This is the road we took.

Eventually, we got to a point where the Impala couldn’t go any further, though I saw several other cars even higher up the rutted, washed-out trail.  Pretty sure they had hover jets or something.  Babua’s friends were all waiting for us beside the river.  The whole scene looked like something out of Lord of the Rings (I guess that means New Zealand).  While we waited for the mtsvidas to cook, Babua’s friends went fishing in the river and Goga and Ani went swimming.  Maya spent most of her time trying to keep Niko from drowning himself in the river. 

I love Georgia.  Even the rocks are hospitable!

Supra translates literally as ‘tablecloth’ and is a very big tradition in Georgia.  A family will throw a supra to celebrate any momentous occasion, like a guest arriving or a birthday.  In this case, we were celebrating the religious holiday.  Friends come over and everyone eats and eats and then eats some more.  One person is designated as the Tamada, the toastmaster.  He (almost always a he) makes numerous toasts through the course of the supra, with Divine Inspiration.  The words are supposed to come from God to his lips and then to the rest of us.  After a few toasts, my inner translator stopped working and I called him the Tostada.  Georgian wine is pretty strong.  He didn’t understand enough to be offended.  Thank goodness.

Supra!  There was even more food on here before we started.

In this case, Babua was our Tamada.  He toasted Marianabat, the friends who were all there, my friends and family in Virginia, the friendship between Virginia and Georgia, and my other friends in Georgia.  At one point, Babua invited me to give a toast.  I don't remember what I toasted.  Georgian wine is very strong. 

Then all the guys there declared themselves to be my new brothers and my family to be their family.  I didn’t get names, so Christmas cards may be a bit awkward.

My new brothers

This guy pulled out a guitar and started singing, and all the others joined in.  Naturally, this being Georgia, they were all perfectly in harmony and knew all the words.  A bunch of half-drunk guys on top of a mountain with a beat-up guitar making some of the best music I’ve ever heard.  Go figure.  Some of them even got up and started dancing.  And they took off their shirts.  Did I mention how strong Georgian wine is?

Full Monty, Georgian style!

Being a mere female, I was allowed to get up and walk around after about an hour of toasting and drinking.  My new brothers were not so fortunate (or unfortunate, depending on how you look at it) and spent several more hours toasting and drinking and eating.  I wandered back whenever I heard singing, but spent most of my time admiring the scenery.

If you look really closely, you can see Merry and Pippin in the trees on the left.

Eventually, Babua half-stumbled and was half-carried to the car by two of his buddies.  One of them asked me to marry him.  Apparently, brother doesn’t mean quite the same thing in Georgian as it does in English. 

Babua was a surprisingly good driver while mostly intoxicated.  It might have helped that there were no other cars on the road, just this kid on a horse.  The horse beat us down the mountain.

It helps that horses have right of way.

I think Marianabat is a holiday we definitely need to get behind in America.  Gaumarjos!