Medieval Mtskheta

Mtskheta as viewed from a window of Jvari Monastery on a cloudy day

 Two Rivers

Confluence: Mtskheta lies along the banks of both Aragvi and Kura rivers

Refurbished: The Svetitskhoveli Cathedral is surrounded by the newly-renovated buildings of Mtskheta

Also along the banks of Mtkvari (Kura) River, at the point where it is joined by the Aragvi river, is the scenic medieval town of Mtskheta.  Located just 20 kilometres (about a half-hour drive) north of Georgia’s present capital of Tbilisi; Mtskheta is one of the oldest cities of the country and was capital of the early Georgian Kingdom of Iberia from 3rd century BC to 5th century AD. It was only later, during the rule of King Dachi I Ujarmeli, in accordance to the will of his father, King Vakhtang I Gorgasali, when the Georgian capital was moved  from Mtskheta to the more easily defensible Tbilisi.

Mtskheta was  the main site of early Christian activities in Georgia and was the place where Christianity was proclaimed the state religion of the country in 337 AD, making them second only to Armenia in this regard. In the 6th century, the Jvari Monastery was built on top of a hill overlooking the rivers and Mtskheta and, in the 11th century, the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral was built in the middle of the old capital.  Both of these religious structures  are amongst the most significant monuments of Georgian Christian architecture and were among the “Historical Monuments of Mtskheta” as declared by the UNESCO World Heritage Sites in 1994. The city continued to serve as the coronation and burial place for most kings of Georgia until the end of the kingdom in the 19th century and it still remains the headquarters of the Georgian Orthodox and Apostolic Church to this day.

Hilltop: The Jvari Monastery as viewed from Mtskheta

Riverside: Mtskheta as viewed from across the river with the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral dominating the skyline

The grand 11th Century Svetitskhoveli Cathedral

A Must-See

Old and New: A newly-renovated building beside the walls of Svetitskhoveli with a view of the Jvari Monastery at the background

On-going construction near Svetitskhoveli's bell tower

I was not surprised that Becka, a Georgian friend who drove for me between hotel and work and around Tbilisi during my visits, insisted that I see Mtskheta before I finally leave for home.  I have visited various other places in Georgia such as Kakheti, Batumi and Emireti but have never been to Mtskheta, which happens to be the closest to Tbilisi and one of the most historically significant.  The other thing that Becka declared he didn’t want to happen was to allow me to leave the country without having enjoyed traditional Georgian dishes especially the khinkali. In fact he and other Georgian friends were shocked to learn that I have never tasted the khinkali after two visits to Georgia.  And so Becka made it his personal mission to feed me khinkali before I flew out of the country. He also wanted to make sure that I had enough experience and photos to write about it later.  It also happens that the best khinkali place can be found in Mtskheta.

Wet marble pavements reflect the 'new' buildings

And so, on the day of my last departure from Tbilisi, we agreed to do a quick tour of Mtskheta just a few hours before my flight.  In a perpetual gesture of Georgian hospitality, he brought along his wife and two young boys to enjoy the view and share a huge Georgian lunch with me.  The older boy, Becka junior, also has some fondness for photography and, with his tiny point and shoot camera in hand, he tailed me around as I tried to catch the best angles of buildings and sceneries.  It was a rainy day so Becka junior also doubled as my umbrella assistant from time to time.

An empty street in the 'old' section of the city

An 'old town' coffee shop

A small alley lined by wooden fences

A Tour under the Rain

A view of Jvari from another angle

The Jvari Monastery as viewed from the newly-renovated section of the city

First we went up to the 6^th century Jvari Monastery which sat on top of a hill providing a magnificent view of Mtskheta and the Kura and Aragvi rivers.  The hills surrounding the monastery, dotted by cherry blossoms and some cattle grazing on the green slopes, gave a beautiful rustic feel of the Georgian countryside.  I regretted that the sun was out that day but the rain and cloudiness provided some dramatic effects to the photos as well.

Before lunchtime, we moved down to the main city of Mtskheta where the 11^th century   Svetitskhoveli Cathedral dominated the landscape.  The city has been going through a facelift so the surroundings were a combination of on-going construction, newly refurbished buildings, and untouched centuries-old structures.  Thus, while I felt like I was in a studio set-up of a cowboy movie in some newly renovated sections of the city; I also felt the strong historical vein running though the older, un-renovated sections, and I can almost visualize  the Christian noblemen and citizens of Iberia worshiping in the cathedral or pacing on the cobblestones along the old buildings of the city.

The front wall and bell tower of Svetitskhoveli

"Old Taverna"

Feast before Flight

My Side of the Table

When it was time for lunch, we drove to a roadside restaurant which, according to my Georgian hosts, remains the most popular in the region.  There, I got treated to a feast of authentic khinkali and other traditional Georgian dishes so good that I felt like I ate a whole month’s meal .  The family later brought me to the airport fully satisfied that they have accomplished their final mission with me. Thanks to my hosts and the warm Georgian hospitality, I left with a stomach full of Georgian food, a camera full of photos, and mind full of  memories to write about.

The 'new' section with the cloudy mountains at the background

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• The Jvari Monastery (travellingartist.wordpress.com)
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• The Legendary Svetitskhoveli Cathedral in Mtskheta (travellingartist.wordpress.com)

Aceh 2006

I had an opportunity to help undertake relief and rehabilitation work in Aceh in 2006, more than one year after the Indian Ocean Tsunami devastated the place. As usual, I always had a camera with me while at work and I was able to collect a few photos.  The devastation was still very evident when I was in the region but I didn’t want to delve on this subject matter in my photos.  In lieu of photographing the suffering, I instead tried to capture how the city and its people were gradually recovering from the tragedy.

Unfortunately, I was not yet blogging then. And when I did start writing short articles and uploading my photos into the net; it was not with WordPress so my photos as of now are scattered in at least 4 different sites in the net.  This was why, when I started blogging at WordPress, one of my intentions was to see whether I can eventually consolidate them within this site.  So today I’ll begin moving my photos at mylifegains.multiply.com which I have already abandoned to “A Traveller’s Tale” at WordPress.

It’s been almost 7 years now since the Indian Ocean Tsunami happened on 26 December 2004. Many other calamities have happened since then including the more recent and widely publicized tsunami devastation in Japan but still it will be nice to have a second look at Aceh way back  in 2006. Here’s a short photo essay.

"Ark": This boat was carried by the waves over a residential area then was left sitting on a house several hundred meters inland. Newly constructed houses can be noticed at the foreground.

"Fishing Boats": Donors worked overtime to support survivors in recovering their livelihoods. These fishing boats distributed by various humanitarian agencies sat on debris of what used to be a residential area by the seaside.

"Waiting for the Tide": This lone fishing boat sat on what used to be a mangrove area that got flattened by the tsunami. Newly built housing units can be seen at the background.

"Relief Workers": Humanitarian aid workers can be found everywhere in Banda Aceh City and the whole province of Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam. I captured this photo of young Muslim ladies on their way to their field work as I followed their van along a city street.

"School Girls": Through intensified support from the UN and other international donors, the schools have started operating again. In this photo, school girls carrying their stuff in UNICEF backpacks walk early to school.

"Young Survivors": The one thing I admired most among Aceh people was their resiliency. Not much bitterness can be observed among those I encountered but rather a strong sense of hope and determination was often evident. One of my most favorite photos was of these young Acehnese boys with very strong facial expressions.

"Almost Home": Aceh Province is predominantly agricultural. The locals have started replanting their farms and the ricefields in the plains have started to show signs of renewed life.

"Aceh Highlands": The mountainous portions of Aceh Province were not directly affected by the tsunami but rather benefited from the peace agreement between Jakarta and the GAM secessionist movement that got brokered to bring in much needed humanitarian assistance. Peace became a silver lining to the dark cloud of tragedy that enveloped the province.

"Regrowth": For 3 decades, the Aceh highlands has been a battleground between government forces and GAM rebels. In the aftermath of the tsunami and the peace agreement, signs of livelihoods getting re-invigorated can be seen on these once bloodied grounds.

"Road to Meulaboh": Like the elusive Sumatran tiger that roams the jungles of Aceh, lasting peace and development maybe difficult to catch but can also be just somewhere round the bend.

Under the Big Mongolian Sky: Echoes from the Steppes

Under the big sky are the Mongolian steppes. Only the distant mountains challenge its rule over an almost infinite space.

I stood in the darkness in the middle of the steppe one evening and saw something I’ve never seen before; an unobstructed view of the stars in the skies above and the horizons around me.  Nothing else was there; no trees, no skyscrapers, just the stars all over, as if I was under a huge dome made of stars. That was when I realized why they also call Mongolia the land of the big sky.

But man, too, with his implements dares cross its borders to get to high ground;

I was in a ger camp of a herder family and the day was spent doing what herders do in the steppes but, because of the seemingly endless breadth of open space, much of the time was lost just driving to places; to the next ger camp, to their grazing herd, to a ‘nearby’ river, and then back to camp (Good I chose to ride in the car instead of on a horseback!).  The trip to the river was especially arranged so I could try fishing in its waters.  Unfortunately, the fishing gear they produced were not appropriate and I caught nothing.

But, back at base, the family surprised me with a bunch of freshly-caught fish and everybody just smiled when I asked where they came from.  After a huge dinner of fish and meat, I was treated to a welcome party of vodka, vodka, and more vodka. Oh, there was also airag (fermented mare’s milk) but it didn’t last long and we quickly shifted back to vodka. Apparently, a hoard of vodka bottles was riding with us all along from the city and all over the steppes in an old Russian jeep !

Where he may or may not find for himself a blissful retreat;

After the ceremonial offering of vodka to Mother Nature (done by flicking droplets of vodka to the air using the right hand fingers), followed by a series of 3 shots and exchange of well-wishes with the head herder; each person around the camp fire took turns drinking shots but the rule was one has to render a song before drinking. Luckily, there was a young herder’s son who can beautifully render a khoomei (throat singing) and he made a good substitute singer for me after the first 3 rounds. The others rendered songs summarized to me by my English-speaking Mongolian colleague as songs about nature, mother, the horse, the wind, love — almost in that order of frequency. I didn’t understand a word from their songs but it was often a heartfelt rendition and, with much help from the vodka, I eventually sang with them in Mongolian (my own version), and even requested some of the melodies I liked to be sung once again.

Where Mother Nature's snows melt on mountaintops and send streams into the valleys;

That night was one of my most memorable in Mongolia. Though I didn’t like vodka that much, I gained a deep appreciation of the Mongolians‘ strong connection with Mother Nature.  But the biggest surprise to me was the boy’s throat singing — my first experience with khoomei where two or more notes were simultaneously produced from the throat and the sounds of the steppe’s wind, animals and natural surroundings were imitated. The boy’s father bragged that the melody produced by his son can travel great distances in the steppe and I believed him. The group fell silent everytime the boy started singing and the strange but beautiful sound seemed to float in the air and ride the wind to the deep and dark reaches of the steppe then come back to us moments later.

Streams of life that caress the windswept plains;

Streams that sustain the grasslands that feed the herd;

Streams that give hope to Mother Nature's children;

And thus feed the hungry souls in her growing cities;

And then the plains and mountains wait for the snow once again.

Such is the cycle of life under the big Mongolian sky.

When it was time to sleep many hours later, I was was given a space on the floor together with the rest of the family inside the head herder’s ger. Having been briefed by my colleague that I came from the tropics, they covered my body with 3 layers of thick sheets but I didn’t get to sleep that soon. On top of the snoring and various sounds people make when sleeping, I can still hear the boy’s voice reverberating from the steppe.  Or, perhaps it was Mother Nature herself singing a lullaby? I couldn’t tell.

I was sweaty under the 3 layers of sheets when I woke up at dawn. My hosts were still asleep so I groped my way out of the ger where a glorious early morning greeted me.  The stars were fading, a cool breeze was blowing, and the distant mountains were starting to appear in various shades of blue.  At the herds’ corrals, two ladies were starting to milk the goats and cows while a man was preparing the horses.  I heard something that sounded like a wolf’s howl from far away.  It’s the start of another exciting day in communion with Mother Nature at the steppes.

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Note from the Author: Except for the photo of grazing horses, all the photos in this post were taken at Uvs Aimag, Mongolia way back in 2005 (the photo of grazing horses was taken in Cental Aimag in 2009); the photo of the city and the mountain cottage were taken at Ulaangoum Soum, also in Uvs Province.  The cloth-covered pole in the 2nd and last photo is an animist totem placed by shamans and can be found all over the steppes so that the passersby can pay respects to Mother Nature.

If it’s your first time to hear about throat singing, there’s a short article about it at the website of Smithsonian Folkways in this link.  Thank you for visiting this post.

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Hotel Mongolia 3: Cabin in the Woods

Cabin in the Woods by Jessie T. Ponce

Cabin in the Woods

What mighty spells have you that I couldn’t resist,

To make me want to slow down and obtain some rest?

While the journey is long and there’s much work ahead,

You so tempt me to stay here and lay down my head.

 

Is it the great sun you use to brighten my mood,

As it caressed your walls of memories untold?

Are the trees your disciples who lighten my load,

As they cast strange shadows, leaves and branches so bold?

 

Is it the clear river gently flowing nearby,

That soothe my wounds with love songs or a lullaby?

Are the distant mountains listening to my cry?

Are the wilting weeds weeping as they hear me sigh?

 

Oh cabin in the woods  kept away from the world,

Is a friend inside you to give warmth when it’s cold?

Is your charm pulling my soul to sleep in your hold,

Or it’s just me longing, alone and feeling old?

—- Jessie T. Ponce, January 2012

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Snatching Birds from Midair in Nauru

Eerie: Watching the Skies

NO, the above photo is not a scene from one of those “Alien” movies; the men are not worshiping something in the skies but are swinging something in their hands; and that black thing near the dark cloud is not a UFO but a bird — specifically, a frigatebird.

A Cure for Boredom

Captive: Frigatebirds being tamed inside a netted cage

Imagine life on a small phosphate rock island in the middle of the Pacific before the existence of planes, fast boats and the internet.  After hauling in the day’s catch from the ocean, there really wasn’t much to do. Visiting the next island would be nice but was very difficult if not impossible and it was simply irritating that certain creatures, such as the frigatebird, effortlessly do ‘island-hopping’ on a  regular basis.  And so the islanders devised a game to catch this enviable creature — a “catch a frigatebird contest”.

It so happens that frigatebirds have  large wingspans (the largest wingspan to body weight ratio of any bird) and thus are able to stay aloft for more than a week. They also tend to hover over their food (mostly fish) — a weakness that the islanders can exploit.  The challenge and excitement of catching a frigatebird attracted many islanders and, over time, better catching techniques were developed and some islanders became really good at it until it became a sporting event on the island.

A Vanishing Sport

Demo from a young islander: 1-Swing the abio around and around until it gathers momentum; 2:Release the leaded tip to wards the hovering bird

Bird snatching is a game of patience and skill. The frigatebirds are first lured to the beach by scattering pieces of fresh fish on the sand. Then, as a bird hovers over the food, the participants would capture it using what they call an abio, a lasso made of a long nylon string with a lead weight on one end. With the un-weighted tip of the long string neatly rolled around one hand, the weighted tip is swung around and around on the other until it gathered momentum. Then, at the exact moment when the frigate starts to hover, the string was suddenly released, sending the weight catapulting over the bird. The length of the released string was controlled such that once the string passes over the bird, the lead weight brings the weight below then over the bird tangling it with the string and thus allowing the islander to literally snatch the bird from midair.

Catching frigate birds is still considered a sport today but only two groups are left practicing this traditional pastime in Nauru. Both groups have 2 or 3 dozen tamed frigates (as many as three species) usually kept inside a netted cage by the beach.  I was lucky to have chanced upon one of the groups catching frigates one day when I was starting to get tired of driving aimlessly around the island.

Birds and Men: Excitement unfolds on a cloudy beach

Joining the Fun

Conniving Hosts: Tamed frigatebirds were released earlier in the afternoon

The Lure: Fresh fish were scattered on the beach. The tamed birds would snatch a piece of the food then fly away.

It was a cloudy afternoon when I found this group of ‘bird snatchers’. Darkness was starting to descend on the island but the sky was still bright below the clouds farther in the horizon. Rain had started to fall over a distant portion of the Pacific, magnifying the fading sunlight like a huge pillar of golden crystal that propped the heavy clouds against the stormy waters. The group stood on the rocky beach, heads turned towards the skies, talking almost in a whisper, and carefully scanning the endless space above them where a flock of big black birds soared and dove towards the beach from time to time.

The Target: A 'guest' is ushered by a tamed bird to the food set on the beach.

A Detained Guest: A man holds the captured bird while the lucky bird snatcher retrieves his abio.

Beach, Birds and Boys: Young islanders enjoy and afternoon dip under a perch of tamed frigatebirds.

Earlier in the afternoon, they released the tamed birds and fed them on the beach. The birds would snatch a piece of fresh fish then fly high up and far away from the beach. While in the air, other flocks of passing frigatebirds got attracted and joined the tamed birds back to the beach to partake on food set on the sand. The men scanned the skies to identify the  birds that didn’t belong among the dozens that soared above them and occasionally hovered  to snatch up food from the beach. They would instantly recognize an untamed bird because it doesn’t have a mark — a “hole” that showed in the frigate’s spread wings as it hovered. One “hole” was the mark of the group I was with; two “holes” was the mark of the group on the other side of the island; those without “holes” in their wings were the targets.

And then there was a sudden excitement. A flock had started to fly back towards us with some new recruits. The bird snatchers took positions around the scattered fish on the beach, some perching on rocks and pinnacles to get closer to the oncoming flock. The strings instantly, almost musically, chorused in a whizzing sound all around me as everyone swung the weighted tip of their lasso around and around, easing their legs and bodies to the right position, patiently waiting for the right timing. I had to keep a safe distance from the group as I focused my camera and took shots of the excitement knowing that a stray lead weight can cause a serious injury.

There was a sudden volley of whooshing sound as several of the bird snatchers released their lassos towards their targets. Many abios fell empty on the water but two birds landed on the ground with lasso strings entwined around their bodies. Amidst the excitement, younger boys rushed to the captured birds and adeptly caught the beaks and the wings as the successful bird snatchers disentangled their lassos. The newly caught birds were placed inside a cage to be marked and tamed and then to be used later on to lure other birds to the game.

The bird snatchers waited again for some time but the next batches of tamed frigate birds came home without guests. As the sky was getting darker, the tamed birds took positions for the night on their special perch by the beach. Tomorrow they will be fed again and some passersby will be attracted to join their feast and the group will be waiting on the beach once again to snatch the guest birds from midair. On some occasions however, the tamed birds decided to join the passersby to another feeding ground somewhere else and never came back to this beach. Such was life on the island.

As the bird snatchers started to leave towards their homes, a plane servicing the island took off from the nearby airstrip and thundered through the skies where the frigate birds hovered a while ago. People in that plane, islanders and visitors alike, were flying out to some place across the Pacific and, like the frigate birds, many will come back but others would never return.

To Stay or To Depart: A plane departs the island as the bird snatchers' day ends.

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Road to Kakheti 2: Under the Clouds at Shuamta

Silent, hazy trees of Shuamta

Back Into the Fog

Low clouds covering a valley in Kakheti

We  were on our way to Tsinandali, an old winery just outside Telavi, in the tourist region of Kakheti and we just traced a winding road that crawled under a low cloud then climbed up to a sunny portion of Gombori Range then went down and entered a low cloud once again. Down in the valley, as we groped our way in the foggy road, we found a blurred sign that said “Shuamta”.  For a stranger like me, the sign could have meant anything but our lovely guide-on-the-wheel, Natia, was familiar with the place so we decided to turn and follow the trail that led us further uphill and deeper into the jungle.  Unlike the previous road we were in, the trail seemed seldom used and the fog appeared to get thicker as we moved further into the woods.

Silhouette of a tree

A tree-lined path

The main church

Another church in the haze

A Complex of Medieval Churches

A monastery cloaked in the mist

There, tucked in the middle of a highland forest, was a complex made up of three churches from different periods – 6th, 7th and 8th centuries.Amidst the deafening silence, the silhouette of trees enveloped in thick fog, and the hazy figures of these very old churches; I had mixed feelings of awe and excitement realizing that I was standing on the very ground that helped establish the foundations of the strong piousness of the Georgian people. We were allowed to enter one of the churches but I was not allowed to take photos. Outside the main church,  I can barely figure out the shape of the second church, and I was told that the third one was located deeper into the jungle.

I had a chance to do a short moment of reflection while my companions explored the area and, after a while, it was time to hit the road once again.

Entrance to Shuamta

Ready for Winter

Heavy fog obscure the road to the monastery

-oOo-

By the River Mtkvari 4

Here’s a brighter version of a fisherman along Mtkvari River.  This one was taken on the same morning near Old Tbilisi but at a later time when the sun has risen a bit higher behind me.  King Gorgasali’s statue stands on the right over an old bridge atop a brighter, lighter colored cliff.  The soft reflections and the fading intensity of color from the front to the back were what I wanted to capture in this scene.

On another note, I may need to adjust my posting schedule back to once every 2 days to allow me more time to focus on a project I’m working on.  I still have a few more photo sets about Georgia lined up for the coming days to be followed by a new series on another exotic place. Will just make sure that one gets posted every other day. Stay tuned.

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Road to Kakheti 1: Above the Clouds at Gombori

Weekend Tour

It was autumn when I first visited Georgia in 2010. Trees everywhere were bursting with colors but it was frequently cloudy and there was rain from time to time.  After  working for 2 weeks in Tbilisi, I got an opportunity to travel to the countryside one weekend and my first choice for a region to visit was Kakheti. I read somewhere that Georgia has the longest history of winemaking in the Caucasus region and it was in Kakheti where that history was made. I also knew that Kakheti is home to other historical sites and is the most visited province in Georgia. Fortunately, my office colleagues and another friend agreed to accompany me in the trip and we set out for Kakheti one early Sunday morning.  As usual, I traveled light with only my rain gear and my camera.

Foggy Countryside

A winding road towards Gombori

A sleepy roadside village

There are two routes going to Telavi, the capital town of Kakheti, but Natia, our lovely lady friend who was doing the driving, suggested that we pass through the more scenic Gombori Mountain Range, the Georgian section of the Greater Caucasus mountains, where the road was also better.

There was nothing much too see along the road for almost an hour from Tbilisi until we turned to an apparently newly-built road and the scenery got a bit more exciting. The landscape became hillier and the scenery more rural but visibility also became poorer as we began to enter a heavy fog. I also started to worry that my camera may not be able to capture much of the passing countryside scenes.

But still I was excited as we drove through the foggy countryside.  There were sleepy highland villages, some herders and their cattle, cold-stricken leafless trees, and some occasional fortresses or whatever was left of them.  We were hurrying to spend enough time at Tsinandali and Sighnaghi, two of the most popular places in Kakheti, so I just had to capture photos of the passing scenes whenever I can as we traveled.

Above the Clouds

The sky gradually brightened as we slowly zigzagged uphill towards to the higher portions of the Gombori Mountains.  We were amazed that it was sunny on the mountaintops and, when we looked back, only then did we realize that we’ve been driving under a low cloud all along.

The view was so breathtaking that we had to stop several times along the zigzag road, posing by the roadside, taking photos of the sea of clouds blanketing the lowlands, or just enjoying the mountain breeze under the smiling sun.

The only problem with the clouds was that they obstructed our view of the lowlands. The Caucasus Mountains separate Georgia from Russia and the Gombori Range is its lower portion on the Georgian side.  The mountain range serves as a watershed, separating the Alazani and Iori river valleys, and create the inner (Shida) and outer (Gare) regions of Kakheti.  Thus there are two mountain ranges, two rivers and two valleys which influence and dominate the characteristics and potential for agricultural production in Kakheti. But none of these rivers or valleys were visible even at the highest point of the road so we just savored the thought that we were standing above the clouds. And when we had our fill, we slowly proceeded through a forest of deciduous trees getting ready for winter and then slowly descended from the sunny portion and entered a cloudy valley once again.

-oOo-

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By the River Mtkvari 3

“Fishing is not always about the catch – it’s about the solitude, the quiet, the exercise of preparing the lure/bait, throwing it into the water and waiting. Thinking occurs, problems are solved, heart rate and blood pressure normalize – calm sets in. Until there is a tug on the other end…”

- Comment by excellent blogger, T Hollis, on another photo in this set, By the River Mtkvari 2.

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Becka’s Boy

The Silent Observer

Despite the slight rain, I got engrossed with photographing a roadside scene near the Jvari Monastery in Mtskheta while my Georgian hosts, Becka and his family, waited in the car.  It was only when I was about to return to the car when I realized that Becka’s younger boy has been watching me all the while and didn’t seem to mind even when I started taking this photo.  Later at the restaurant, he struck another ‘deep-in-thought’ pose while we were waiting for our food (see “Holy Khinkali!”).

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Holy Khinkali!

Khinkali served with barbecue and bread in Kutaisi

Okay, I’m not really into food photography and I haven’t been as adventurous when it came to exploring Georgian cuisine when I was in Tbilisi. The only restaurants I have explored alone (when I was not in the mood to ransack my hotel mini-bar or scrimp on whatever food the nearby grocery stores can offer) were those along Abashidze Street where most of the food offered were not traditionally Georgian.  I so lacked the enthusiasm to explore about food that the staff at a small place called coffee.ge, the closest to my hotel, have started to call me by my first name because it’s the only place I frequented.

Khinkali in 'watercolor'

The Supra

Steaming Khinkali in 'watercolor'

Adjarian kachapuri in 'watercolor'

I was obviously out of place when it came to food because Georgians love food — and wine (with emphasis) and this was best observed during a supra, an important part of Georgian culture. I have only heard of the supra, which is said to always feature a huge assortment of dishes accompanied by large amounts of wine.   It is said that “When God was distributing portions of the world to all the people of the Earth, the Georgians were having a party and doing some serious drinking. As a result, they arrived late and were told by God that all the land had been distributed. When they replied that they were late only because they had been lifting their glasses in praise of Him, God was pleased, and gave the Georgians that part of Earth He had been reserving for Himself.” (The Legend)

Imeretian khachapuri, cheese and vegetable salad in 'watercolor'

But what I found most intriguing was the role of the tamada, a sort of a toastmaster nominated by the host to stage-manage the supra. The tamada must be a man of humour with ability for improvisation and a philosopher’s wisdom (tough job!). The tamada makes sure that toasts follow a strict never violated order so anybody who wants to say something must have the tamada’s consent otherwise the person who gave an unacknowledged comment will find himself in an awkward position.  The toasts include quotations and aphorisms from the works of poets and writers and as the party progresses, the supra gets accompanied by table songs and music and dance competitions.

And so I also missed the supra totally but my Georgian friends would not allow me to leave without at least having a good taste of traditional Georgian cuisine. I have had several opportunities to try them in my travels to Batumi and Kutaisi but, on my last day, my Georgian friend, Becka, who was to drive me to the airport, made sure that I have had a memorable experience on Georgian food.

My flight was scheduled for late in the afternoon and I managed to free myself in the morning so we first visited Georgia’s old capital, Mtskheta. Becka with his wife and two boys picked me up from my hotel at around 11:00 am. After visiting important places and taking photos mainly of the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral and Jvari Monastery, the boys were obviously famished so we headed to a roadside restaurant just outside of Mtsketa.

A Cozy Place in Mtskheta

Best in Town: Wooden stools and tables create a warm ambiance inside the Mtskheta khinkali restaurant

Nameless: A place in Mtskheta where the best khinkali can be found

It was a neat and simple but cozy restaurant and it was apparently very popular. Most of the Georgians I talked to knew the place but, strangely, nobody was able to give me the exact name. I was told that this restaurant existed even before more popular restaurants in Tbilisi found their niche. People from Tbilisi used to drive out to this place especially on Sundays to enjoy the food with their family. It was almost 1:00 o’clock when we entered and only a few tables were occupied but, in a matter of minutes, the place was packed with diners. It was raining and the weather was quite cold but, according to Becka, in summer when the weather is warmer, even the tables and kiosks outside of the building get full. Becka did all the ordering of food while I and the boys patiently waited with excitement.

Starters

Lobiani: Seasoned kidney bean sauce and cottage cheese

First came the lobiani, circular bread served with seasoned kidney bean sauce and cottage cheese together with a vegetable salad. Becka showed me how to break the bread and dip it into the bean sauce but warned me not to eat too much because more food was coming.

Then came some sort of a spring roll (I didn’t catch the Georgian name) as a sort of appetizer. Both dishes were very tasty but I heeded Becka’s warning not to take too much.

The Kachapuri

Adjarian Kachapuri in Batumi: Boat-shaped with crispy crust

Most Popular: Imeretian khachapuri in Mtskheta

Then the khachapuri came. The khachapuri is a filled bread dish similar to the Turkish peynirli (pide). There are several varieties of kachapuri and we got the most popular variety, Imeruli khachapuri or Imeretian khachapuri, which is basically bread stuffed with cheese. When served whole, it is circular and looks like a pizza but only with cheese stuffed in it.

Other regions have their own versions of the kachapuri. The Mingrelian kachapuri has more cheese added on top. The Adjarian (Acharuli/Adjaruli) khachapuri, which I got to try in Batumi, has a unique shape and texture. The dough is formed into an open boat shape and the hot pie crust is topped with a raw egg and a pat of butter. Amiko, another Georgian friend, and I spent a good amount of time searching for the place in Batumi where they traditionally prepared the Adjarian kachapuri in a firewood oven.

I was quite surprised by the big difference between the common kachapuri which has soft, tender dough and the Adjarian kachapuri with its thin, crunchy crust but the common factor is the cheese, the quality of which almost defines the tastiness of the kachapuri.

The Khinkali

A tray of steaming khinkali

My boy host patiently waiting for the khinkali

Becka’s boys were apparently as excited as I was and they almost clapped their hands when the khinkali finally came.

The khinkali is a sort of strongly peppered mutton dumplings, similar to the Mongolian budz. Pork, mutton or spits aubergines, depending on the season, is stuffed with fat of tail and tomatoes and steamed inside a thin dough wrapping. The “dumpling” is bag-shaped almost the size of a tennis ball and I was told that a medium-built Georgian can consume as many as 10 of these dumplings in one sitting. The technique in eating khinkali is by consuming it while it was hot and by making sure that the “juice” inside the dumpling, which carries its succulent taste, is not spilled. To the amusement of Becka’s boys, I tried hard not to look awkward biting small holes into one of the corners of the dumpling and trying to sip the contents while it was hot. By the time I finished my first khinkali, they have consumed three. But the khinkhali was really good and I congratulated myself after the meal for having consumed 4 of the dumplings for the first time.

Finishers

Pork barbecue for the finale

When it came to food, Georgians like the dining table to be always excessively full and find it perfectly acceptable if a lot of food was still left on the table after the meal. So, to top it all, a final serving of pork barbecue was served. It was a tender and tasty meat cooked well-done and topped with onions. It was also very good and, being more familiar to my palate, I ate 3 more slices but I finally refused when Becka asked if I wanted some dessert.

My Supra

Generous Hosts: Becka and his family enjoying the meal

Looking back, I would say that the meal was a huge feast and was as good as a supra to me. There was no wine involved but Becka deftly presided over the whole affair like a seasoned tamada with myself and his lovely family as his willing ward. And, in the end, they succeeded in giving me, an unadventurous tourist when it comes to food, an unforgettable  food adventure and a lasting appreciation of Georgian cuisine.

But it doesn’t mean I won’t go for a real supra next time.

Khinkali and barbecue in 'watercolor'

‘Epilogue’: Can’t help but think of Leonardo Da Vinci’s “Last Supper” while processing the photos in this set, perhaps because many of them involved bread and the real last supper according to the Bible involved the breaking of bread. So I played with the photos and applied the watercolor effect in some of them and included those ones I liked in this post (those marked in ‘watercolor’). I must admit, I still love painting.

Related articles

• Medieval Mtskheta (travellingartist.wordpress.com)
• It’s Warm and Easy in Tbilisi (travellingartist.wordpress.com)
• By the River Mtkvari 1 (travellingartist.wordpress.com)
• By the River Mtkvari 2 (travellingartist.wordpress.com)

By the River Mtkvari 2

"Morning Glory"

I wanted to emphasize both the bright morning sunlight and the colorful bank of Mtkvari River in this photo so I composed it in such a way that one side is glary (somewhat overexposed) and then details gradually become clearer as the eyes shift to the right side of the frame.    The silhouette of hanging branches and leaves on top help give depth to the bright scene.  I didn’t use a filter (I never do) but my aging SLR  had thankfully captured the moment the way I wanted it to come out.

The lone fisherman was the first of about half a dozen I caught and photographed on the same morning in less than a kilometer stretch of the riverbank along the Old Tbilisi section of the Georgian capital.  I find it strange that that none of them was able to show me a catch.

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• Mirrored 2 (travellingartist.wordpress.com)

By the River Mtkvari 1

"Fishing and Wishing"

This photo is part of a set of photos of the fishermen I chanced upon one early morning along the banks of Mtkvari River near the Old Tbilisi section of the Georgian capital of Tbilisi.  At first glance I thought that the two guys in the photo worked together but, upon closer look, I realized that the angler was by himself and the other was a just passerby who decided to stop and ponder on something along the riverbank.

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Mirrored 4

He shook his head when I approached him along the bank of Mtkvari River and asked if he spoke English, so I gestured that I wanted to take his picture to which he nodded.  What I was more interested in was the symmetry created by the Peace Bridge‘s reflection on the water as well as the converging diagonal angles of the ledge and his fishing rod.  What came out was a less than perfect symmetry but nevertheless the rod and the ledge somehow contributed to the interesting combination of lines and shapes in the photo.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

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• Mirrored 2 (travellingartist.wordpress.com)
• Mirrored 3 (travellingartist.wordpress.com)
• It’s Warm and Easy in Tbilisi (travellingartist.wordpress.com)