Monks and Munitions

Saturday, May 30
We got up at The Renaissance Hotel. It isn't the other side of the river, but  high on the river bank just across from Old City and next to the Tsminda Sameba Cathedral. Not nearly as fancy as the Rooms Hotel, but actually more space in the room and a much more moderate price.

As we were eating breakfast with our Russian friend from the wedding, we discovered that we planned to go to the same place that morning, the ancient (that is almost redundant to say here) monastery at Davit Gareja. He had made arrangements with some Georgian "30-somethings" he had previously met at a drinking establishment to go there with them. They graciously agreed to let us follow them there. I had Google directions using the hotel's wifi, but since my carrier does not provide internet service in Georgia, I feared that I would not make it there on our own.

Thus began a wild ride. The "30-somethings," who were driving a nice silver Mercedes, got lost getting out of Tbilisi. A little part of me felt good about that since I now knew that I was not the only one getting lost in Tbilisi. However, after we got out of Tbilisi, we got really lost. They were following Google maps, which was giving them the shortest, but not fastest route to the monastery. We went through the very southern part of Georgia, passing what appeared to be Georgia's version of the rust belt. Lots of abandoned factories and other rusting industrial equipment.

After a while the road began to deteriorate. Periodically the "30-somethings" would stop the car to ask directions. One or two of them would jump out and come to our car to make sure that we were ok. After a lot of gesturing we would drive on. The road then deteriorated to a dirt road. As the ruts in the road got bigger, we were slowed to a crawl. Lots of animals began to appear on the road accompanied by shepherds. Then we encountered a large flock of sheep that brought us to a complete standstill. After slowly crawling past the sheep we came to a fork, and they stopped to ask directions. One of the "30-somethings" came running back to our car with bananas and a bottle of lemonade. One of them grabbed what appeared to be two large beer bottles from the trunk and took them into the car. Almost immediately thereafter the driver popped out of the car with the beer bottles and returned them to the trunk. I assumed she did not want any drunk passengers. We later learned that they were filled with water for cleaning the car, not for drinking.

We then backtracked, again having to crawl through the sheep and turned up another dirt road. On top of the hill was a large structure that appeared to us to be a military installation or a prison, but the "30-somethings" said it was the monastery. Turned out to be a military facility with warning signs that we were entering a free fire zone. Over the hills we could see a series of guard towers and we realized that we were at the Azerbaijani border. We drove for a long time on a dirt track that I thought roughly paralleled the border. Turned out that a post trip review of our route by Google maps indicated that we periodically crossed into Azerbaijan and without a passport stamp.

At one point along the road there was a sign with three flags on it, one of which was a US flag. I jumped out of the car to see if this held the secret to our journey, but was surprised and chastened to learn that the US was part of an ongoing program to clear mine fields in this area. We took some pictures and backtracked to the cars.

The road by this time was really better-suited for a 4-wheel drive vehicle. Ruts and potholes littered the roadway. Surprisingly, the little Twingo was in some respects better-suited for the road than the Mercedes, since it had a smaller wheelbase and could more easily avoid the potholes. We periodically encountered vehicles coming in the opposite direction and we invariably stopped for more directions, finger pointing and inquiries if we were ok.  After what seemed to be an eternity, we encountered a sign indicating that the monastery was 3km away.  And so it came about that after almost 4 hours of driving we came to our destination. The monastery was pretty impressive. It was built into the side of a mountain and incorporated many caves into its structure. Even though this is a semi arid area, at this time of year it was covered in green and punctuated with many wild flowers. Davit came here in the 6th century to spread Christianity. He constructed the first monastery which later grew into a complex of 16 monasteries that became a repository for learning and art.  The complex was destroyed by the Mongols in the 12th century and rebuilt, destroyed by Tamerlane in the 15th century and rebuilt and finally utterly destroyed on Easter night in 1615 by the Persians, who massacred 6000 monks. After that it fell into disuse. The site was revived after independence from the Soviets and is again inhabited by monks, although the only monk we saw was in the gift shop.

We toured the complex for over an hour and then the "30-somethings" broke out a picnic. We through in our store of fruit, nuts and water. We learned that the Georgian "30-somethings" were a pair of brother and sisters, who were also cousins. They were all programmers, as is the Russian, and one had spent a few months studying at Washington State University. His sister is scheduled to attend a seminar in San Francisco later this year. We had a grand time.

On the return trip we took the longer route, with better road conditions. We parted company with the "30-somethings" when we approached the Tbilisi Sighnaghi road. We were going to Telavi and they directed us to the right. Wrong direction, but we eventually got there.

However, along the way to Telavi we got pulled over by the police. In Georgia they drive like madmen. Passing on curves, exceeding the speed limit, driving in the opposite lane, and generally seemingly obeying only their own rules. I could not understand what we had done wrong.   The police spoke no English and seemed to be referencing a stop sign. I did not recall any stop sign. We were out of the range of Google translate. I handed over our passports, then the car registration and insurance paperwork, then my drivers license. Their eyes seemed to light up when they saw California on the license and waved us on.

When we arrived in Talavi, we did not know that we were there. A conference in a market confirmed our location and we got directions to our guesthouse. While those got us to the immediate vicinity of the guesthouse, we could not find it. So we parked the car near a park and carrying our tour book with the guesthouse's address we intended to ask for directions. The first person we approached asked if we were looking for our guesthouse, and then proceeded to lead us by car to it. We never found out who he was.

Tushishvili Guesthouse is hosted by a Ukrainian grandmother. It is in an older home that has seem better days, but we are the only guests and thus have an entire floor to ourselves. Dinner outside at the adjacent restaurant and then after using the Turkish toothpaste, early to bed.