Having managed the border crossing in less than an hour, we
had a whole afternoon that we hadn’t expected to have. With no real plans as of
yet we stopped for lunch in the border town where we ordered the traditional
dish of “khinkali” – juicy meat dumplings. A group of men at another table took
an interest in us, and one in particular who had evidently had more than his
fair share of the empty vodka bottles at their table, began professing his love
for us. “I... LOOOVE... YOU..., VEEEERY MUCH,” he called out towards us over
and over again, and having already taken a liking to Georgia and Georgian
people, we found this amusing and politely thanked him each time. Having
finished their own plate of khinkali, the group followed this one guy that
loved us the most as he joined us at our table. He had obviously taken a
special liking to me, and most specifically my eyes, and amidst complementing
me on my eyes and kissing my hands, he proceeded to indicate how offensive he
found Ben’s long hair and blazer, how exciting he found Denner’s beard which we
think he was saying was like Jesus’, and how confusing he found Tunkles’
moustache. Apparently long hair, facial hair and blazers aren’t fashionable in
Georgia.
Still amused by this man and his antics, we played along
when he and his friends challenged Ben, Tunkles and Denner to arm wrestles.
These men were not small, and after watching him display his biceps and say
“Me, stallion”, we weren’t expecting any wins from the Australian team. Sure
enough, each of my comrades’ arms was duly slammed into the table amidst good
natured laughter. When they began violently wrestling each other at our table
though, knocking over the glasses of vodka they’d brought with them, and
threatening to overturn the table, we quickly stepped back and decided the
scene was losing appeal for us. Realising our reactions, all but the main
offender apologised, welcomed us to Georgia, posed for some photos and
farewelled us. Our good friend the stallion though decided to stick around, and
tediously pointed at my eyes and Denner’s beard for the rest of our meal. It
got a bit out of hand in the middle, and incredibly tiresome at the end, but it
was certainly an exciting welcome to the Christian nation of Georgia.
As we had nothing to particularly head for, we followed
signs to a very pretty monastery a few kilometres from the main road. As the
first Christian country on this trip (unless you include Australia), and our
first non-Muslim country since China (3 months ago), visiting a monastery does
have a certain sense of new and exciting.
A little further down the road we spotted a sign to Nekresi
Monastery, which jogged Ben’s memory of something he’d read. We followed the
turn off and as it turns out we’d stumbled across one of the must-see
monasteries in Georgia. Located 1.5 km up a very steep hillside, it is only
accessible by foot or by paying for a bus ticket. At only 1 Lari per person we
opted for the bus, but were informed that they only run with a minimum of 10 passengers.
Unconvinced that 10 more visitors would arrive in that whole afternoon, Tunkles
and Denner decided to brave the walk while Ben and I waited for them in the
car.
After a little while though a couple more cars arrived, and
we realised that there may well be 10 people for the bus ride now. Sure enough
we were now 2 of 14 passengers, so we paid our way and boarded the bus, sorry
for Tunkles and Denner, but glad that we’d also be able to see the monastery.
The advantage of walking up the hill is that you’d have the
whole place to yourself, but unfortunately our bus load arrived just as our
companions reached the top, sweaty and parched from the steep ascent. The views
over the valley were truly spectacular from this vantage point, and the
understated and raw beauty of the monastery was haunting.
Tunkles and Denner snuck on the bus for the return trip and
we headed back to our car where we were greeted by a friendly Georgian man.
“You have brought your car from Australia?” he greeted us. “Yes!” We’re so used
to confusion and disbelief at the nature of our trip that when someone has
actually looked at the car and figured out what we’re doing, it is a welcome
relief. “You know Russian guy?” he asked us. “Um....” “Misha? From Baku?” Yes,
we had met a Russian guy in Baku. Apparently Misha was staying with this man in
a nearby town, and had just caught the bus up to the monastery that we had just
come from. Misha had spotted our car and told his host that he knew this car
and had met us in Baku. We decided to wait with this lovely man who gave us
bountiful amounts of information about the area, and meet up with Misha when he
returned from the monastery.
We greeted Misha like a long lost friend, despite the fact that
we’d only spent one evening chatting intermittently at our hostel in Baku, and
decided to take up the invitation of tandem driving with them – Misha, Guram,
and an American/Peruvian couple living in Dubai who was also staying at this
guy’s place – to a nearby wine factory. Our intention was to visit the wine
factory, find something or somewhere for dinner, camp the night, and
possibly/probably visit Sighnaghi the following day where we would more than
likely stay at Guram’s guesthouse.
The wine factory was very interesting – much more
industrialised than the ones we get shown around in Australia, or perhaps it
was just that we got shown more than we’re used to being allowed to see. As
well as the current production and packaging processes, we were also taken to a
room where the traditional method of wine making was demonstrated by Guram, who
was our free tour guide of the factory.
At the completion of the tour, we were sat down in the wine
tasting room where we sampled a few of their varieties, my favourite of which
was a semi-sweet red that is acclaimed as Stalin’s favourite wine. Enjoying the
company of our flukily found companions, we decided just to ride out whatever
plans Guram had for us and go to Sighnaghi so we could spend the evening with
Misha, Lee and Claudia. Not only had we stumbled upon some great company, but
we seemed to have chanced upon an excellent, no strings attached, truly
hospitable guide.
Our next stop was a wine cellar that was unfortunately
closed because we’d spent too long at our wine tasting, so on we went to
another wine factory. This one wasn’t the modern, commercial production line
we’d just experienced, but was a truly functioning traditional workshop. We
were shown an attic full of antique furniture, vessels and ornaments, then the
underground cellar full of their wine and chacha (a spirit made from grapes). In
the main room where all the wine is produced, we were once again shown the
process which involves several metre deep holes in the ground which are filled
with the grapes and periodically stirred with a 2m long pronged stick. For
different stages in the fermentation process the grapes are moved to a variety
of these holes until the process is complete.
We huddled around a table set with bread, cheese, white
wine, red wine and chacha for us to try. Our endless summer that began in
November in Melbourne, continued as we started our trip through tropical South
East Asia, followed us into summer in China, Central Asia and Iran, began
drawing to a close in Azerbaijan, but is now officially over. In the mountains
of Georgia it is far from warm, and the unheated brick building was the perfect
setting for some hearty home-made wine and the continuation of conversation
with our new friends.
We followed Guram and our fellow travellers back to his
homestay in Sighnaghi where we were treated to a feast of home-made Georgian cuisine,
and of course, their very own home-made wine and chacha.