Mstkheta

Mtskheta used to be the capital of Georgia, and it’s only about a twenty minute ride outside of Tbilisi.  On an interesting side note, the name Tbilisi comes from the Georgian word for “warm” because of the hot sulphur baths in the city. 

The marshrutka let us out in front of this museum or whatever it was.  Lovely mosaics and bas relief sculptures.  Not so lovely smell.  Apparently, it’s been used as an open-air public toilet for a while. 

Down the street a bit, we found a touristy spot that looked a lot like the Germany section of Busch Gardens.  We made our way down to the river, where the Aragvi and the Kura Rivers meet.  I couldn’t get a decent picture of it, but this shot from a tourist website shows it pretty well. 

On our way up to the ruins of the old castle, we passed an actual, bona-fide jogger on the road.  This was such a strange occurrence that we couldn’t help but stare at him as he passed.  People in Georgia don’t go jogging.  Ever.  Must have been an American.

We also passed this sign, which was about as strange as the jogger.  Naturally, the sign asking people not to litter and to keep Georgia clean was surrounded by trash.  Go figure.

The ruins had warnings about land slips, but we like to live dangerously.  The view from the top was lovely.  Off in the distance, we could see the Jvari Monastery. 

The biggest building in Mstkheta by far is the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral where the Robe of Christ is said to be buried with Saint Nino.  Inside, it was much lighter than most of the churches I’ve seen in Georgia as well as quite a lot bigger.  The walls are almost completely covered in frescoes, and most of the former rulers of Georgia are buried somewhere beneath the floor.  There was a Eucharist service going on while we were there, and we were able to hide in the back and listen to the choir singing their amazing Georgian a capella polyphony. 

As we were eating the requisite khatchapuri and lobiani outside a café (being eyed by some very hopeful lstray dogs), we watched people being given rides in a horse-drawn carriage.  Kelsey says that Mtskheta reminds her of Mackinaw Island in Michigan.  There are hardly any cars, everything is very close to everything else, and the whole place has an air of being somehow removed from the rest of Georgia.  I’ve never been to Mackinaw Island, but it sounds like a pretty nice place. 

Kelsey had to head back to Apeni when we got back to Tbilisi, but I was going to Ani’s dance recital that afternoon.  She does traditional Georgian dancing, and her troupe was performing with a bunch of other schools from around the country.  I got lost trying to find the theatre, so I was late (as usual). 

When I finally found the theatre, I couldn’t actually find the audience and the stage.  I wandered around backstage, passing dozens of little girls and boys in dancing costumes with lots of makeup.  It was exactly like my ballet recitals when I was a kid, except with more bangles and less tulle.  At one point, I almost walked out on the stage itself. 

Dancers were there representing each region of Georgia, each with its own distinct style of music and costume.  Some of them whirled around the stage like dervishes in bright skirts; some of them glided slowly and smoothly across the stage in long, formal gowns.  There were, of course, lots of tiny boys in giant, fluffy hats.  Forget running with scissors; these kids were dancing with knives.  And flying. 

I think one of these girls is Ani

When all was done and Ani was on her bus back to Telavi, I went back to the hostel to wait for my train to Zugdidi at midnight.  While waiting for midnight, I tried to explain to the Italian guy there who doesn’t speak English or Georgian that I really can’t explain the conflict in Northern Ireland with pantomime.  It was a strange evening.