As a result, this area of Georgia got bombed out and made refugees out of a lot of people. As a result, on the drive up to his village from Tbilisi, we first passed a valley with quickly built refugee housing, which was basically an instant neighbourhood of 65 sq. metre houses, side-by-side, row-by-row over quite a large area. And I thought suburbs in North America were like cookie-cutter neighbourhoods! We all thought "man, try to find your way home in that neighbourhood when you're drunk." Not even the houses were painted any differently. Of course, paint is the least of your worries when you're a refugee...
Further on up the road, looking out into a field off the highway, we saw a couple of soldiers with some equipment, treading slowly over what looked to be a farmer's field. Soso then said "they are removing the land mines from last summer." Wow. I was officially about 50m away from land mines. "Are there land mines where we are going?" asked Karin, a dutch girl who is an acquaintance in the "Tbilisi expat group" that Ufuk and Michael are also a part of.
Thankfully not. But Soso did want to show us South Ossetia from a hilltop not too far from that border, so we tried getting Ufuk's 4 wheel drive SUV up some muddy road. Apparently, this area of Georgia is basically mud in winter/spring, as it is at an altitude of about 1000m. At some point, we got stuck in the mud. Not exactly good. Ufuk and I didn't have proper shoes, and I only had 1 pair for the entire trip, so I wasn't exactly keen to jump out of the car and into the mud. But after many unsuccessful attempts to get the car out, it needed a little more help. So, in this very cold weather, Ufuk and I both took off our shoes and socks and got muddy.
In the end, it took 4 of us to give the car the push it needed to get out. From there, Soso called his mother in advance to get some hot water boiling, as we would need to wash our feet upon arrival at his mother's place. I still don't know where exactly we were, but this village, needless to say, had only dirt roads, and we also basically mud at that point. I'm sure we have some photos of Soso's place, and they should follow right about now.
Although people in villages are very poor, they still live quite well since they grow all their own vegetables, and produce their own wine. The only thing that seems to be purchased are sausages, sauces, and vodka. Bread is home-made, either wheat bread or corn bread, potatoes are a staple of the diet, and we also had pickled tomatoes and the best pickles I'd ever eaten.
But I don't mean to jump ahead. First we arrived, and washed up. You have to boil any water you want to be hot, and they get their water from a well on the property. Soso's mother seemed nice enough, though obviously couldn't speak English. The Georgians in these small places have a very great sense of community, and according to Soso, the villagers tend to celebrate events of any family in the village, so there really is a sense of solidarity amongst them.
Soso showed us his house, and then we got to lunch. Basically, we ate what I just wrote about, and had to drink a lot of vodka by way of toasts. It's a very Georgian tradition that the host or elected person is called the Tamada, or the Toast master, and has to job of proposing toasts. So, as it happened, we basically all got drunk in the middle of the day, which is indeed a strange experience. We couldn't finish half of the food that was put on the table, despite our best efforts.
Soso then took us to the village graveyard, where we saw the graves of his father, grandfather, great grandfather, and I believe old great great was there as well. Kind of cool to have those sorts of roots. After the food we said goodbye to Soso's mother and thanked her for the feast. I
thought that she'd get lonely all alone, but again, the villagers have time on their hands to do house calls. Soso's mother had a stroke a few years ago, and being slightly paralyzed on her right side, keeps buggering on without too much difficulty it seemed.
We then went for a hike in a valley, which was nice, though I'm sure March is pretty much the worst time for a scenic hike in this area. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.
After that, we headed back to Tbilisi, hoping to make it in time for the Ballet, which we never got to. After all the food, drink, and hiking, we all slept soundly on the way back.
The rest of the evening was quiet; we went for just a few drinks and that was it.
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