No matter.
We found the hostel, which was the really important thing. For ten lari a night, we got a bed, wi-fi,
and unlimited wine. Not a bad deal, in
my humble opinion.
Next morning, bright and early, we found a marshrutka
and started the three-hour drive up the mountains. Georgetti is a really big church and monastery
on a mountaintop. K’azbegi is the mountain behind the mountain with the church and monastery. I was confused, and I may still be confused,
but this other mountain was pink.
 |
| Does anything else really matter? |
When the marshrutka driver stopped and told
us we had arrived, I looked around the town for the church. The only thing I saw that looked like a
church was that one way up there, but that couldn’t be the one we were going
to, right? Uh, right? Guys?
 |
| It's that tiny little dot on top of the closer mountain. |
The climb took us nearly four hours, but it
was perfect weather and fabulous scenery.
Not to mention some excellent company.
The company actually got smaller and smaller as we went up. Pretty soon, it was just Tom, Kelsey M, and
myself as people fell behind or turned back.
After about an hour of nearly vertical walking, Tom turned to us and
said, “It starts to get a little steep here.”
And then he reminded us that he trained in Special Forces by proceeding
to walk up like it was no big thing.
Olly told me once that Tom likes to go running in his village with
bricks and water jugs in his backpack.
It shows.
 |
| It was really that steep, not a trick of the camera. |
 |
| Two roads diverged in a yellow wood... |
Kelsey and I had a more leisurely
scramble. The leaves were just starting to
turn yellow in the woods, and we could see Mount K’azbegi covered in snow in
the distance most of the way up. When we
finally made it to the top, I thought the whole hike was worth it.
 |
| Proof! |
There was a baptism going on in the church,
so I didn’t take any pictures inside. It
was brighter than most Georgian churches I’ve seen, with frescoes on the walls
and windows letting in the sun up near the top of the dome. The outside, of course was spectacular. Every direction I turned, I could see another
angle of the mountains and the town and the snow. Sengka decided that she wants to move her
bedroom there so she can see that view every day. Max did the next best thing by staying to camp
on the mountaintop.
 |
| Georgetti Monastery |
 |
| Mount K'aszbeghi |
On the drive back, every seat in the
marshrutka was full and a man was crouching on the floor by the door. I thought he’d be very uncomfortable if he
had to stand hunched over like that for the entire three hour drive. Not long after we left the town, the driver
pulled over, and a man standing by the road opened the door. He handed a stick to the man inside. It was a pretty nice stick, about the size of
a walking stick, but I really want to know how long that man was standing by the
side of the road with a stick. We drove
a bit further on, and the driver pulled over again. The man who was now holding the stick hopped
out and started walking off toward… well, nothing that I could see. This whole exchange was so baffling that I’m
still trying to think of a reason for it.
Any ideas?
 |
| This was on the way back to Tbilisi |
That evening in Tbilisi, and the whole of
Sunday was kind of a celebration of all the food we’ve been missing in our
respective towns and villages. Fajitas,
chips and salsa, strawberry ice cream, omelettes, schwarma, chocolate, everything. I ate so much, and it was all amazing. Georgian food is good, but I was missing the
variety.
I missed the last marshrutka back to
Telavi, so I had to take a taxi. The old
lady beside me in the taxi decided that I would marry her grandson. She didn’t seem to care that I’ve never met
her husband and I’m already married. My
wedding is all worked out in her head, apparently. His name is Giorgi, and he is seventeen. Be still, my beating heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment