How my best 3 years began

Today my wife and I are celebrating our 3rd wedding anniversary back here in Georgia. It’s not a big one for most, and it’s not one of those “silver” or “golden” anniversaries that Hallmark says we need to buy something special for. Thank goodness, since we’re still in a bit of poverty from two traveling types coming together. It is quite meaningful to me though, as is every moment I spend with this special girl I found in a small, smoke-filled art bar in Tbilisi.

Three years ago today was the event of my life. We had some crazy preparations. My wife had to leave the country to Prague for 3 months prior, setting up her new job there, which meant I had to go around looking for restaurants myself for the reception. As a musician, I’ve got loads of musician-friends, which meant music wouldn’t be so much of a problem, but we did have a budget to adhere to. And let me tell those thinking of maybe a destination wedding, after having a banquet of over 100 people, wedding and all came out to about 4,000 dollars, so Georgia should be on your list.

Tbilisi Sioni Cathedral of the Dormition

We chose the 28th because every time I came up with a workable date for my parents and all, I was informed Georgians were fasting. Georgians are always fasting! It’s among one of their favorite activities, right up next to eating salty cheese, drinking wine, and dancing. The 28th is a feast day though, being the Day of Saint Mary, or Mariamoba, so we were safe there.

I remember waking up with some super excitement and perhaps a mild hangover. My best mate and my parents had spent the better part of a week traveling around the country, to the high mountain regions of Svaneti to escape the punishing summer heat. Then we had a week's worth of festivities in my bride-to-be’s village, which became something of a marathon for my liver. The family and the neighbors were all wonderful, especially the red-faced groundhog who kept popping his head out over the fence, looking to see if we were around and ready to start drinking some more wine.

Sioni from across the river

They don’t rent out the whole church for a wedding like they do in the West. In the Georgian Orthodox Church, they don’t even have seats. Your wedding takes place, and other people might be in the church praying their own thing, there might be a baptism going on in a different chapel, and tourists might be wandering around marveling at the architecture and goings-on. None of that really bothered me, which was a good thing, since we probably chose the most touristic of all churches in Georgia to have our wedding in, the Sioni Church of the Dormition, a 6th century church which only recently lost the throne of the patriarch as it had moved to the newly completed Orthodox mega-church across the river.

Sioni Church of the Dormition

The church is located in the old town of Tbilisi, squeezed in-between two beautiful pedestrian areas lined with restaurants, bars, and cafes, plants pouring out of windows onto the streets, vines climbing up everything. On the front end stands a huge 15th century bell-tower, while on the other side is the roiling river of the Mtkvari, rushing past with a kind of quiet rage.

Erekle II street near Sioni

The first church there was built in the 500s by the founder of the city, Vakhtang Gorgasali, but was later destroyed by the Arabs. The current structure was built in the 12th century by another famous Georgian, Davit the Builder, and it managed to survive invasions, earthquakes, and fires for nearly a millennium. The dark interior is made even more beautiful and mysterious by the recent frescoes of the Russian painter Knyaz Grigory Gagarin in the 1850s and the Georgian painter Levan Tsutskiridze in the 1980s. It was also one of the few churches in Georgia that was allowed to continue operation as a church during the Soviet times, and even witnessed some restorations.

the interior murals of the church

All that to say, it’s not a quiet or unimposing church by any measure. But having a wedding there is pretty awesome, to say the least.

When we first arrived, my party was waiting outside. Only the wedding parties and close friends actually attend the ceremony itself, while the acquaintances and relatives all go wait at the reception hall.

My bride-to-be took her time getting there, and at first I was a little worried that she had come to her senses and decided not to show. But thankfully I was wrong! There she was and my heart leaped. I forgot everything and was just stupidly drunk on the happiness of the moment.

friends and family waiting for the bride

The baptism

We went inside. First, I had to get baptized, as the Georgian Orthodox Church won’t perform a sacrament to anyone who isn’t one of them, so that means I had to become Georgian in more than just marriage.

We went to a side chapel where I had to wait my turn. They were busy dunking a naked baby, who was crying at the top of his lungs and surrounded by his family folk constantly declaring everyone’s favorite Georgian phrase, “vai may!” Finally, the baby was done for and wrapped up. It was my turn.

about to get dunked

I took off my suit coat, rolled up my sleeves, and went on over. It was a huge brass grail like one a Titan might have used before Zeus had his way with them. I looked down at all that water. I wondered briefly how long it had been since they had changed that water, but maybe as it was holy, it was naturally clean. I certainly hoped so, just thinking about that baby’s bum, and what most babies do when they’re surprised. But woah! No more time to think, the priest had me by the neck and was waterboarding me, getting me to confess my fear of the Lord.

The wedding

After that was done, I suited back up. The priest asked for the rings.

I knew I had forgot something. I always forget something.

I sent a friend off to my flat to retrieve the rings.

Off to a rocky start to this marriage. Perhaps it was better to get the bumps out at the beginning after all.

When the ring arrived, we joined in the line at the wedding factory and went at it. One or two weddings later, it was our turn. We lined up. We huddled up with the priest, my wife translated bits and pieces, and me smiling the whole way through, barely cognizant of anything but how happy I was. The priest probably thought I was touched by God or something, in that most Georgians are pretty solemn people and hate wasting their energy doing things like smiling on happy occasions.

lined up for the ceremony

We followed the priest around in circles, as our bests followed us around with crowns over our heads. Then we made our way to the iconostasis and kissed it. The iconostasis is the protection barrier between the crowd and where the miracle of transubstantiation occurs. It protects the people from holy radiation or something, the same energy source that’s bundled up in the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch. Seriously dangerous stuff, folks.

following the priest around in circles

wedding done, ready for the congratulatory line

Then finally, rings on, we were declared man and wife. Out of the way for the next wedding! And we were off to our reception.

It was a grand reception. A friend tells me that was the best day of his life. Mine too, bud!

traditional dancing at the wedding

our first song, "Hold On" by Tom Waits, played by Shota Adamashvili

#wedding #Tbilisi #touristicsites #churches

Exploring the salt mines of Krakow

The Polish Empire was built on salt. Back in medieval days, before the discovery of America and when the spice trade wasn’t always linked up and supplying the quickest, most premium quality of service, Europe was in a real pickle for tasty food. Really, all they had was meat, grapes, cheese, pickles, and pickled cheese (try some nakladni hermelin next time you visit Prague). All this to say, that they needed some flavor, and without refrigeration for the most part, they needed salt. Salt was the medieval "white gold".

Outside of the Polish city of Krakow, there is one such salt-based city that was the center of the Polish Empire for centuries, and was the wealth of it for nearly a millennium: the Wieliczka Salt Mine.

one of many many tunnels

Shortly after posting a blog about Krakow, we decided to head back to the town and explore the darker quarters far underneath one of its chief suburbs. The trek we made was about 3 kilometers long underground, and that was barely 2% of the mines. Just try to imagine that in your head. The place is massive!

Romance in the Salt

The Wieliczka Salt Mine opened in the 13th century and was active until a few decades ago, when it closed due to safety issues and the fact that tourism rakes in more money than salt these days.

The salt mine was started by the Hungarian Princess Kinga, who had been betrothed to the great and funnest nobleman at parties, Boleslaw the Chaste. She must have been real excited about this, because when her father was giving her a tour of a salt mine before she left – as we know all little princesses love salt mines – she decided to throw her engagement ring down one of the shafts.

salt carvings of the foundation story

Princess Kinga took off for Krakow to meet her betrothed, sans wedding ring. I can’t imagine Boleslaw was that impressed, and apparently Princess Kinga wanted to make it up to him. So she took his best shaft diggers out to a fairly boring part of land and told them to start digging.

Digging they did until they hit pay dirt. Or pay salt. Princess Kinga bent down and picked up a lump of that salt, which magically contained her engagement ring! Prince Boleslaw rejoiced so much that he married Kinga and they decided to both lead lives of chastity, thus ending the Lesser Piast branch of Polish nobility.

burning out excess methane gas

The miners of Wieliczka had a great deal of rights. Only free males were allowed down there, and they were compensated a great deal, leading to a number of wealthy guilds and families that tied their fortunes to the Polish crown and mines. Mining was an obviously difficult task, with methane gas build ups that had to be carefully burned out, along with collapses and slipping down steep chasms into the darkness below. As for the methane, we can only guess where that came from. Yes, miner farts were a huge source of danger in the salt mines.

The tour

The tour doesn’t need reserving, but can be, and if you’re a foreigner just jump into the foreigner line, which takes about 10 minutes, and reserve the next English-speaking tour, which happen every half hour. Other languages aren’t quite as lucky, and the Polish language tour had an absurdly long line. So even if you’re Polish, avoid that one and just do the English language one. If you're more particular about your linguistics, be sure to check the times at their website and book ahead.

the shaft down

The tour begins at the shaft. It goes straight down for what seems like an hour, just an endless chain of wooden steps. There are frequent stops because of the tours ahead, but be patient and read and write as much graffiti as you can. You come out of the shaft into a room that was dug out in 1635 and is some 64 meters below ground. That should be the first thing that blows your mind.

As the guide takes you through the chambers, it looks like the walls and floor are made of smooth granite, ornamented with dark granite statues. They’re not. They’re all made of salt. Everything is salt down there, and they’ve truly done some of the most incredible and impressive things with salt. They carved it to make it look like bricks and statues, horse stables, churches, engravings, and even chandeliers. The guide even invites you to test it and taste it, except where the statues are concerned, since the salt mine is understandably not so keen on having their statues eaten.

a monument to the mine's most famous visitor: Copernicus

The only thing that isn’t made of salt down there is the wood, and there’s a lot of that. It’s used to smooth out the terrain and make level platforms, walls, and supports. This is especially important when you reach the huge cavernous territories that miners were slipping down with the stairs only mildly carved into the salt. Many of the miners died in the descent, so it can’t be expected that tourists would be good at dealing with wet, salty ground.

wood stairs versus salt stairs

The tour of the mines descended three levels. On each level, there was a crank that was used to bring up loads of salt, and at one point they demonstrate how it worked. At various places in the mine, they’d use men to push the crank, and for the heavier loads, they’d have horses set up. At the horse stables, the guide explained how horses were born and lived their entire lives in the mines.

salt statues of a miner and his horse

There are statues spread throughout the mines. Some depicting scenes from Polish history, others of the mine’s history, and others with religious purposes. Indeed, there are two chapels on display in the tour, one small one with a salt crucifix, and one giant one that’s still used for mass and to hold weddings in. That’s right, you too can get married 90 meters underground in a salt church. Worried about the reception? Don’t worry, there’s a completely modernized party hall in the mines too, a bit further down and near the elevator shaft.

a saltine crucifix, not your last in a mine with a still functioning Catholic church

Also among the statues are a lot of scenes of dwarves. Dwarves were prominent in miner mythology, as that many miners believed that they would come out at night while the miners were gone and help them do their work. The sodium statues serve as a tribute to their salty helpers.

Hi-ho, hi-ho, we're off to work we go!

After 3 kilometers, passing through churches, across underground lakes of brine, and a modern auditorium, cafeteria, and kid’s playroom, you’re finally set to leave. But don’t worry, you don’t have to go up all those stairs again, they’ve a lift. That’s about another kilometer away, taking your tour to nearly 4 kilometers of walking through tunnels underground. And remember, that’s only 2% of the mine!

underground lake complete with a Chopin soundtrack

The room that will leave you with the greatest sense of awe is the main chapel though. It still conducts weekly services and weddings, and is arrayed with statues and carvings that were done by two brother miners in the 1800s.

the great chapel

the altar

A carving of the Last Supper

For the kids

There’s an alternate tour available, that trains you and your kids how to be a salt miner! It teaches you to properly wield a pick, load it into a trolley, and push it on down. I assume. We didn’t take this tour, and it follows a different path than the primary one, but I would think it would be the way more awesome tour if you’ve got your littluns around.

Getting there

The mine can be a little difficult to find. Be sure to mark it on your GPS and follow directly to where it says, because there are other things in the area that certainly look like a mine, and will advertise itself as something connected to the mine, and will gladly take your money. But the actual entrance is clearly marked on Google Maps, so follow it to a T. Street parking may even be available near the mine entrance, so don't park at the first parking lot you see like we did, which actually might be far away.

the "observation tower". not the entrance to the mine.

Alternatively, you could take the train from Krakow to Dworzec PKP Wielicka-Rynek-Kopalnia line, which starts at the Krakow airport, goes to the main central train station, and then finishes at Wielicka. Actually, if I go again, this will be my preferred method out there.

#Krakow #touristicsites

Don't Climb the Mountain