Ski (and Love) Georgia

We're back in Baku after a simply phenomenal long weekend in Georgia. I am completely smitten with this mountainous country, it's people, and it's culture.

Georgians are world-renowned for their hospitality. It was evident upon our arrival. Lugging two bags and our skis, we walked out of the airport to find a gaggle of taxi-cab drivers. We took our luggage over to the first cab and a group of about 10 men proceeded to help the driver load our skis into a sedan while putting the bigger stuff in an overhead compartment. This outpouring of generosity was so unexpected and it seemed to set the perfect tone for our entire trip.

The city of Tbilisi sits in a valley, on the banks of the Kura River. Large stone bridges connect the east and west sides of the city. There is a certain romance about Tbilisi that is largely absent from most post-Soviet cities. Churches and monasteries from the 5th and 6th centuries seem to be hiding around every corner. During our trip, our friend Scott was trying to explain a certain location. "You know, where that really pretty church sits on a cliff?" Liam jokingly replied, "Oh, right, that one," as Scott's description could have been one of a hundred different places.

We visited the famous Svetitskhoveli Cathedral, built in the 11th Century in Georgia's old capital of Mtskheta (about 15 minutes north of Tbilisi). This church is a particularly holy site because the robes Christ wore when he was crucified are buried here. Our guide explained that a tree grew in the spot the robes were buried and a large wooden cross was made from the tree. Inside the church beautiful old icons hang on every wall.

One night in Tbilisi was not enough time at all to explore the city, but we'll be back again. Sooner rather than later. Here is a photograph of some of the great architecture along Rustavelli Avenue.

And a nice street clock.

On Saturday morning, our group of six hopped in a taxi and made our way for the ski town of Gudauri, about two hours north of Tbilisi and on the border with Russia. During the war with Russia last summer, much of this road was blocked off to civilian traffic. But first, we made a pit-stop at Goodwill, Georgia's answer to Wal-Mart, to pick up some local Georgian wine. Here is our friend Michael trying out the goods:

Arriving in Gudauri, we immediately hit the slopes.

Scott's helmet got alot of laughs from the locals. But as the only telemarker on the mountain, his skiing was quite impressive.

On Sunday it started to snow. Hard. At noon, visibility was about ten feet. It gave each run an extra element of excitement. Does the trail really go this way? Or that way? Is another crazy Georgian skier about to hit me? We finally threw in the towel and took refuge in a ski hut half way up the mountain and enjoyed some local gluvine.

Although we made it out again Sunday afternoon, the snow didn't let up for another 36 hours. Which would have been fantastic for skiing, except the weight of the snow brought down the power lines. Not surprisingly, without power it is hard to operate a chair lift. So on Monday we kept ourselves busy by the fire of our guesthouse reading and making friends with other visitors from the Baltics.

I took this photo when we ventured up to the ski resort on Monday morning, just as the ski lift came to a sad halt.

That night at dinner our host, Gela, offered us a feast of fish, lamb shashliek, and copious amounts of local wine. (We learned later that Gela buys one-thousand liters of wine a year for his guests.) In Russian, toasts were made to the women. To friendship. To Georgia. To those who have passed to the other side. Glasses upon glasses of Georgian red wine were downed. And we sat around a table talking well into the morning hours.

On Tuesday, the snow finally ended. But the power was still out. We had hoped to get a few runs in before we had to head back to Baku. We hung out at the base of the lift as expectant skiers gathered. No one really knew what was going and no one really seemed to be in charge. Information was scarce. Not willing to give up on a perfect ski day, soon skiers were sitting in the snow sharing beers. This guest waited under the rental shop.

Finally, we decided to hike up and get one run in before heading home.

We met this man from the Ukraine as we hiked. He asked us to take a "military picture" of him and his friend on the slopes, while he took off his clothes. I'm not sure how being shirtless equates with the military, but I couldn't resist taking a picture of my own.

And then it was back to Tbilisi and home to Baku.

Thinking back on the weekend, perhaps the best part was being at a Georgian guest house. With a fire burning in the living room and a constant flow of good food and wine, we had the chance to really talk with our hosts as well as meet guests from other post-Soviet countries. One night at dinner we chatted about our memories of the Berlin Wall coming down; about the end of the Soviet empire. One Latvian was surprised that Americans would have such vivid memories of the event. "For us, it changed our lives. Nothing was ever the same." He thought for Americans it was simply another world event to which no one really paid any attention.

I looked around and realized without the end of the Soviet Union, I would never be in Gudauri. I would never have been able to come to Georgia and take in these wonderful mountains and make these new friends. For many reasons I am happy that the Soviet Union is a thing of the past. But for right now, it is purely selfish.