The Right Hand of the Master

Konstantin Gamsakhurdia is one of the more famous writers in modern Georgian history, and most noted for his work the Right Hand of the Master, which was my first introduction to him. The book chronicles a love triangle between King Giorgi I, the architect of Svetitskhoveli Church, Konstantin Arsakidze, and the sister of Arsakidze’s wetnurse, Shorena. The tryst is set in the backdrop of a feuding medieval Georgia, where the country is being pulled apart by both external and internal pressures, and a fairly ineffective king who’s more interested in hunting does and chasing tail than effective governing. It’s a really great read, and I highly recommend it to anyone who’s looking to get a better look at Georgian culture and history.

the gate to the museum in Abasha

He was born in Abasha, Georgia, and was the father of one of the more controversial figures of modern Georgian history, the first president of the free and independent Georgia, Zviad Gamsakhurdia. Konstantine himself is far from controversial, and is beloved by most Georgians as one of the dominant players of the Georgian-Soviet literature scene. Though he was born in Abasha, he grew up mostly in Kutaisi and then went off to St. Petersburg. During World War I, he lived in Germany, France, and Switzerland, where he was becoming acquainted with much of the European intelligentsia, and even developed a friendship with the German writer, Thomas Mann.

Just after Russia’s collapse, Georgia declared independence and sought aid immediately from Germany, since they would have had leverage with the Ottomans and be able to hold off the Ottoman advance on Georgian territory. At that time, Konstantine began his Georgian fame, as he became an attache in the Georgian Embassy to Germany and started work helping to repatriate Georgian prisoners and returning them to Georgia, which was now allied with the Kaiser.

Konstantin soon returned to his native Georgia, which was now a free country, and worked editing Tbilisi-based literary journals. He joined the opposition after the Bolshevik takeover, and as he wrote, he kept getting labeled by the government as “decadent”, which was one way of saying that the author’s works would never see the light of day. In 1924, the Soviet government finally tired of him and the sent him off to the Gulag at the infamous Solovetsky Islands network, though rather than having to do hard labor, he was forced to set upon translating Dante -- one can argue which would have been worse, but I wonder if Stalin and Ordjonikidze made it into Konstantin's version.

the lovely woodwork on the museum

The Gulag’s icy re-education camp seemed to do its work, as after Gamsakhurdia’s release, he tended to not write things so openly critical of the regime, and somewhat enjoyed the support of Beria for a time. He focused mostly on historical fictions, which for the most part kept him out of trouble, and it was at the height of the Terror that he started to write The Right Hand of the Master. He managed to survive Stalin and his later career continued on the path of historical fictions and the extraordinarily safe job of criticizing foreign imperialist authors.

The Abasha Museum

Knowing that such a titan of Georgian culture was from a town that was close to my wife’s, I really wanted to go and visit his house museum. So team Saint formed up again. My wife, her parents, and myself jumped into the car and headed to Abasha.

rent your own car from Discover

The museum isn’t remotely near the center. It’s actually quite far into the middle of nowhere, and access would be just about impossible without a car, so a taxi from the center would be necessary for those automobile-less explorers. But don’t expect taxi drivers to necessarily know where it is, and in that regards, GPS is helpful, but the GPS is also a bit off, as some roads don’t exist on Google maps, and there are a couple of roads that are on the map that don’t exist in reality.

After stopping to ask some locals a few times, we finally managed to find the museum. There was a small, empty parking lot out front, and a sign hanging with a phone number. The gate was unlocked, and just past it there was a giant concrete slab of some long abandoned construction project. It wasn’t looking good. We called the number, and the lady on the other end told us to make ourselves comfortable and the museum attendant would be along shortly.

a traditional Megrelian house, or "oda"

Past the construction, there was a small concrete stage to the side, and then what we assumed was the museum itself, a Megrelian style house, or an oda. The oda had a great deal of beautiful, detailed wood work, and this was where we assumed Gamsakhurdia was born and spent his early years. We wandered past the oda, and there was another small house, perhaps a kitchen (kitchens in the older days were often separate from houses due to fires, something common also on American plantations). Past the kitchen, there was a small river, which Gamsakhurdia had once described, “I was born on the smallest river of the world.” The river connected his village with a nearby village, one village his father was from and the other his mother was from.

a river runs through it

The river is a beautiful and scenic area, and there was a small well and gazebo there. I imagined the writer and his family having many outdoor eating events there, singing folk songs and chowing down on grilled pork mcvadi. But I would soon find out all my fanciful imaginings about the idyllic life of the author was something of a novel itself.

an awesome fireplace if it weren't just covered in stickers

The curator finally showed up and let us into the oda. There was one large room with a neatly decorated fireplace. The walls were full of old photographs of Gamsakhurdia, mostly of him traveling around Georgia and his time spent with khevsur communities doing research on one of his books. On another wall, there were some cases which included some letters, pens, and other paraphernalia. There was also a bed and a desk.

Konstantin's favorite paperweights

The curator explained that Gamsakhurdia was only born on this property and left for Kutaisi shortly after and he never really lived here. And in fact, this oda wasn’t even here in his time. There was another house, but it had burned down some hundred years ago. Then his mother had lived in a smaller house, which had also burned down. This oda was built specifically as a museum in the 1980s, but when they built the oda they didn’t even bother trying to recreate the house that Gamsakhurdia was living in, they just built a traditional looking oda. Nothing special.

lots of random paraphernalia

The furniture and paraphernalia there came from the house where he lived in Tbilisi, called the Kolchuri Koshka, or the Colchetian Tower (Colcheti was the land where Jason and the Argonauts explored, which is modern day Samogrelo, where Abasha is located).

They do have occasional festivals at the stage around the time of Gamsakhurdia’s birthday, and there were vague plans to either finish building the hotel that had started in Soviet times, or perhaps to build another hotel. I couldn’t quite tell. Either way, there didn’t seem much progress on it.

This led me to visiting the museum in Tbilisi, the Kolchuri Koshka.

The Kolchuri Koshka

The tower where Gamsakhurdia did most of his living and writing is located way up in Upper Vera, which at the time would have been a kind of remote suburb overlooking the rest of the city, but has since been swallowed by sprawl, vast and brutal apartment creations having spawned up from the blood of good architecture, rising up like the skeletal hands of the free market urban planning ravishing the city.

the way to the tower

We took the number 4 marsrhrutka, which goes along Barnovi Street, and walked up to Gogebashvili Street, and then finally Gali Street. We made it to the entrance, which was this huge barren wall and gate, where there was a small camera. No signage. At this point we realized that maybe this wasn’t a museum at all, but just somebody’s house. Trying to peer over the wall, there didn’t look to be any old buildings at all, but rather some very nicely kept up mansion. There was indeed a tower on the mansion, and I suppose that was an updated version of it. But it was clearly not open to the public.

the tower is over the fence

But maybe there was another entrance. So we walked along the three meter walls and went down another street. No luck. Someone in a neighboring house came out.

“Is Gamsakhurdia’s house, the Kolchuri Koshki, around here?” I asked.

The man said, “That’s it, behind the wall. See the tower?”

“Yeah, but is there like, a museum there or anything?”

“Sort of. You can knock on the door and maybe the guy who lives there will show you around. It’s Gamsakhurdia’s grandson living there now.”

“So no museum?”

“Maybe there will be a museum,” he said.

not an entrance to a museum

Thus ended my search for some worthy monument to the writer.

#museums #Samegrelo #abasha #history #touristicsites #Tbilisi

A season of festivals

The other week, I lamented on a blog about Tbilisoba how it was lacking in the folk character that I had come to know and love about the festival. Tbilisoba, as I had remembered it from years ago, was more than just eating grilled pork mcvadi on the street side and listening to karaoke music from some former child stars. There used to be folk dancing and singing, wine everywhere, and more.

Lucky for me, the very next weekend (October 14th) we accidentally stumbled into the second annual Georgian Wine Festival.

droves of people at the wine festival

Though it was small by comparison and limited only to the Chardeni district, it was all that I was hoping for from Tbilisoba. There was the Georgian folk singing, dancing, and even free wine! Yes, you read that right. At the second festival organized by allwine.ge and the Maidan Group, there were some 20 Georgian wine producers each serving four or five of their wines to anyone who wanted to try, alongside dozens of tables full of handmade Georgian crafts. We got to sample some of the lesser known (but rising stars of the Georgian grapes) like Tsolikouri, a white wine closer to Chardonnay than the usually sour Rkatsiteli, and also a qvevri wine by Tbilvino from the Kisi grape.

a miniature qvevri on a display at the festival

Qvevri wines have a really unique taste. Instead of being made in oak barrels, as is the tradition in the west, they’re made in qvevris, big clay amphorae that they bury in the ground. The entire winemaking process occurs in the qvevri, from the fermentation to the maturation, and they often leave the skins and grape stems inside which make increasingly complex and interesting flavors. The qvevri is coated with beeswax in the inside to help seal the clay and make it easier to clean.

a working and intricate "wine fountain"

The fermentation process starts a few days after the grapes and juice are put into the qvevri, and you have to break up the grapes and stems about twice a day during this time (a process I got to help in at my friend’s house where we went just after the festival, though that wasn’t in a qvevri but in a big plastic tun as seen in the pic). After the fermentation process, they move the wine to clean qvevris for storage and maturation.

mixing the wine

that girl looks like she's a bit jealous of the festival participants

The Kisi wine we had, which is a dry white, had a strange pale taste at the beginning, and then a nice grape aftertaste (I’m obviously by no means a wine critic, but I do drink a lot, and I can tell you I enjoyed it).

another view of the festival

Hopefully this festival continues to go on. The place was packed and it seems to me it was a great success, and having the opportunity to try a few new grapes has opened up my palette when shopping for home now. I remember living in Tbilisi before and the wines on market were the pretty dull, common ones here used for feasting, unless you were willing to pay a premium.

However, now it’s starting to become clear in local Tbilisi life that Georgia really is the cradle of wine, and a plethora of new and reborn grape varieties are entering the market at all levels. That said, what I’d like to see at the festival next year is just more space for it. It was such a success that I think it’s clear that they should devote the entire district to the festival, with more tables for crafts and food as well.

lots of tables full of crafts

a guy playing a traditional Georgian bagpipe and a changuri

If you’re in Georgia for the first time and unfortunately not for the wine festival, then stop by ღVino Underground for a real wine tour of the country all in one shop (two of the waitresses there went on to become professional winemakers themselves, so to say the staff know their wines is really an understatement!).

#festivals #wine #Tbilisi

Tbilisoba

Tbilisoba is one of my favorite events of the year, held on the first, second, or third weekend of October, depending on various factors like sun, moon, and smog alignment. Indeed I was looking forward to it ever since we moved back to this Caucasian wonderland. Back in the day, I remember how it was full of Georgian dance, mtsvadi (Georgian BBQ pork), and cheap wine poured by the liter. Tbilisoba is one part that makes October the best time to visit Georgia in the year, and the other part is the harvest season. A trip to plan to hit both is really the key to a great trip here.

This year 2018 though, I was a little disappointed. It was a lot harder trying to find the more traditional flavors. With the official schedule being more or less vague, we bounced from venue to venue hoping to find some dance or songs, but there was very little of it. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t have a great weekend, as I don’t often let my expectations get in the way of my enjoyment, especially when there's wine and beer involved.

Searching for the Festival

I had seen a big stage being set up on Rustaveli the other day, so we figured there must be something going on there, despite the lack of information on the website. We’ve kind of both come to expect a lack of information, as Georgians simply like to surprise you at things a lot. I’ve missed a lot of stuff looking at official schedules, and I wasn’t planning on missing some big part of the event this time! Besides that, I had also seen people setting up things in Saburtalo, and that was nowhere to be found online…

That was a bust though. Traffic buzzed along as usual, speeding past a curiously empty stage. Quite the celebration.

We hurried down to the Old Town. We stumbled down the otherwise scenic and beautiful Leselidze Street (these days Google and now tourists call it Kote Apfkhazi Street, but anyone who’s been here longer than Google still calls it Leselidze, and good luck telling a taxi driver "Apfkhazi street"!).

Leselidze with curiously few cars, not sure how I snapped this

Leselidze is perhaps one of the most underutilized streets in the city. It has the most honest and scenic beauty of any touristic street around, with low hanging trees, street-side cafes, a couple of beer gardens, and buskers, but it’s smothered in traffic jams and parked cars advertising tours and massages. It’s really beyond me. It’s not even a main traffic corridor of the city, and if they shut it down people would easily find an alternative route up to Freedom Square (it’s only one lane that barely moves as it is). So personally, I think they should nix the street parking on it, and make it pedestrian only on weekends at least, but that’s just me. Ideally, nix the street parking, expand the pedestrian space, and only ever allow public transit (a future tram?), but I guess my first idea is more practical in the short term.

the market near Chardeni

Not much was happening on Leselidze when we were there. We went down to Chardeni Street, which had a market set up. The market had some stalls of flowers, some tourist trinkets, and honey. It was quite a lovely little area and well set up, and I hope that’s repeated throughout the year. Then to Erekle II, which seems to always be a Georgian festival, and as far as Georgian tourist streets, I’ve got to give that one a huge plus these days.

the always beautiful Erekle II

Now Erekle II is full of chairs, greenery, grapevines, and clay jugs hanging where vines don’t. Really beautiful and scenic, and the music is soft and not overwhelming, just enough to give a taste of atmosphere (while we were there at least). My wife commented, “Europeans seem to prefer here, and Turks and Arabs over to New Tiflis on Aghmashenebeli, weird.” Of course, Erekle II has an older and more authentic look, and has a more laid back atmosphere. New Tiflis is overbearing—loud music pounding everywhere, restaurant hosts assaulting you left and right, and very few spots to catch a breath of relaxation. Is it a cultural preference? I don’t know. It is a ME preference though.

Rike Park

Rike Park was clearly where it was at. We crossed over from the Peace Bridge and found ourselves amongst masses of people. There was a flower market that ran up the center of the park, with the flowers mostly for decorations in people’s hair. That led to a kind of children’s stage, where they did karaoke sing-song dances throughout the day. We avoided that like the infectious hospital, the disease of pounding bass and bad lip-synching was probably worse than anything found in the clinic.

the flower market

There were beer and wine gardens throughout, though strangely it was easier to get a hold of beer than wine. Lots of little areas selling mtsvadi, and for pretty fair prices considering it was a festival, and the mtsvadi we gorged ourselves on was actually better than anything I’ve had at a restaurant. There was in general so much mtsvadi cooking going on, it looked like the place was being gassed or firebombed. This area was perhaps better called the Mtsvadi Festival. I’m not complaining about that either, we need more of those.

the frontlines of the war on pork

So much mcvadi, so little time

One thing I will complain about though was the lack of signage. Where and how to order mtsvadi? How much did it cost? It was all a kind of guessing game until you got to the order taker. And then to find out some places were selling more than just mtsvadi, like xatchapuri and so on! But how to know without signs?

looking at Rike Park from the bridge

From there, we found ourselves at Metekhi Bridge, which was having a car show of sorts. Some old Soviet cars, a bunch of race cars, and some lend-lease WWII era American jeeps. I’m not sure if they were the originals or what, but it gave me a nice feel for the end-scene of my upcoming WWII book that takes place here in Georgia.

some lend-lease love

Meidan Square

Meidan Square also had another great market setup that I hope makes seasonal and more common returns. Meidan historically was a market square, the crown of the long Leselidze cough Apkhazi Street once known as the Armenian Bazaar, packed with vendors, tchaixanas, mcvadi cookers, the main artery of the Old Town. The only indication of that history now is a monument to Sayat-Nova in front of the Makhachkala. Now it’s usually a parking lot, and cars continue their carbon spouting trek up the old bazaar street.

Meidan back to its roots

But for a day, some of that spirit had returned to Meidan. Now there was an array of beautiful shelters set up for vendors (not the usual blue burlap I’ve come to know), and the vendors selling quite a diverse array of handmade trinkets, bags, clothes, and so on, where you actually get the feel of a living Georgia and not just things from a Chinese-tourist-factory-vomitorium belted out in Beijing. Here on sale ranged from hipster handicrafts to a couple of tables of wine and a few more of tea and honey. This was either organized or influenced by whoever set up the new market on Rustaveli near the Parliament. A fantastic job.

Abanotubani

Finally, we made it over to the bathhouse district, which in the past had been the forefront of traditional dance. When we were there at first, there was some orchestra that seemed to be rehearsing for something. We came back later hoping to catch some flying and spinning Caucasian sword dance, but again was disappointed to see some sort of electro-rap-hop band. They were good, but not quite what we were hoping for (I’ll save my venom on the Tbilisi music scene for another day). There's definitely room in the festival for both though.

the Killages killing it on stage

the bathhouse district with the most beautiful bath exterior

What would have been great, and what I remember from the past, is if they had reserved at least one stage for folk performances. They could highlight folk groups from across the city, country, and perhaps even invite in Azerbaijani and Armenian performers. But that’s just another random thought. But I feel that at an event like Tbilisoba, there should be some sort of historical, folk connection, especially considering how easy of an event it is to showcase Georgian and pan-Caucasian culture to foreigners and tourists.

Aghmashenebli Street

The next day, we were hoping to catch something on Marjanashvili or Aghmashenebeli Street, but I guess those neighborhoods didn’t get the memo that there was a Tbilisi celebration going on. They were just kind of business as usual. Having been living in Prague for the past four years, we had got a bit spoiled on the Zazit mesto jinak, which would be like “Pragoba” if Prague were a Georgian city. All the different neighborhoods throughout Prague have their own celebrations, and it was a very interesting thing to jump from one festival to the next.

just another day in "New Tiflis"

Imagine in the future a Gldani festival, a Temka festival, an Isani festival… each having live music, wine brought in by the jug, and meat sizzling on shampuris, each with the residents enjoying their lives in those areas, and for a day at least, coming together as a community to celebrate.

Finale

Finally we made it back to the Rustaveli stage. Apparently, they had had an unveiling of a statue of the great Georgian composer, Revaz Lagidze, earlier that day at another square near Old Town, and that was our one opportunity for Georgian folk music… but we missed that. Lagidze, for those not in the know, was a Georgian composer of the 20th century who wrote the soundtrack to just about every Georgian-Soviet film. I’m not really sure how to describe his music, it has some of the chaos of Rach, but more lightly touched with jazz, and the chord structures much more Georgian, almost always over-the-top epic and orchestral.

some famous people on a stage

Here’s a song by him that it’s impossible not to hear if you spend a few weeks in the country:

At least we made it to the finale concert, where they had the music of Lagidze played by full orchestra and a showcasing of all the most famous Georgian singers. The concert was oddly set in the middle of Rustaveli Avenue, the main street of the city, with buses and cars roaring by, which I suppose makes a fitting symbol of modern Tbilisi. Traditionally, festivals in this spot would have been located on the more intimate side of Rustaveli with the view of the city, where it was easy to route traffic away from, why the decision to put it in the middle was lost on me. In all, the Lagidze concert was a pretty fitting end to the festival, both thematically and presentation-wise.

#Tbilisi #streetfood #festivals