Georgia Tbilisi 格鲁吉亚第比利斯 3/2018 (8)

21-22/3/2018. After two days in Yazd, I took a six-hour train back to Tehran. The train and the station were pretty decent, though the train was a bit slower than what I was used to. It was desert all the way; it may have looked bland, but it was my last fling with this unique place. The same day, I departed Iran with reluctance.

Why this reluctance to leave Iran? The Iranians were among the friendliest people I had met on my journeys through many countries. Even the tone of their voice was music to my ears. Soft like cotton and sweet like candy, I could almost imagine as an accompaniment to classical ballet. How could they have picked a bone with anyone with such a melodious voice? The girls’ friendly gazes and smiles were simply eye candy. Of course, there is the country’s great history. It was not what it is imagined to be, a place of religious fanatics. At least not what I saw, and not the reception I received. The Iranians were capable of much more and deserve much more. I love the place; I hope to return. Every day that I am away, I feel sorry for them thinking about it. God did not create all the tragedies. We did.

I finally arrived at night in Georgia and checked into a little apartment. I had the entire apartment to myself. Yippee!

After 11 days of religiosity that permeates every fabric of Iran, I was now in a Christian country. Today was a new book, a new story, with new props. Everything here looked contrastingly different.

I sat down to breathe a different air, ordered a piece of minced pork cake forbidden for the past 11 days in Iran, two buns, and a cup of fresh fruit juice, all for a dirt-cheap price of USD 1.5. I asked the young server if he was sure he had fresh juice on his menu. He replied in the affirmative. I turned the cup every which way, but I saw only a few grapes. It was fresh grape juice, alright, so I guess he did not sell me a lemon. For $1.50, I should not be too demanding.

Georgian breakfast of pork cake, bun and 'fresh fruit juice' — Georgian breakfast of pork cake, bun and ‘fresh fruit juice’

Stepping onto the streets early in the morning, the first thing I immediately noticed was how many liquor shops there were, and consequently, many happy beer bellies bouncing around—a curious sight indeed, after Iran. While in Iran, I asked a tour guide why the conspicuous absence of Russian tourists, because the two countries seemed to be dating each other and getting along nicely. He snarled, “What do you think?” I put on my thinking cap, “No alcohol in Iran?” I was spot on!

After being pampered in Iran, I immediately felt people in Georgia were not as helpful and safe. In fact, along a busy street, a bunch of Roma kids sets upon me like a pack of stray dogs. About six of them, aged between eight and 13, grabbed my hands and legs, stretched and tucked at my clothes, their little hands reaching for my pockets. They did not try to feel my six-pack, nor did they ever try to grope me, but it felt like they were each trying to have a piece of me. They nearly pulled me to the ground. As I was yanked apart, a loud voice punched the air, and they dispersed. I was shaken but intact. I reported the episode to the policemen standing next to the police car just 30 meters away. One of them answered me, “No English,” and that was it. Go home to your beautiful wife and have a lovely dinner while I lick my wounds. And thanks for the welcome.

In the old town, many old wooden houses were built in the 19th and 20th centuries, each so unique and charming. Their frontages, of distinctive balconies, of wooden-laced facades and balustrades, stood upright along the main street like large billboards. Every block was chiseled differently and made up uniquely. 200 years ago they stood here brimming with confidence. Today, many look weathered and muted. The gray sky made some look even more morose in the dim light. To the discerning eyes, mine included, these are still the charm of Tbilisi, façade or not.

22/03/2018. Today I joined a mini-bus load of more than 10 Russians, spinning around to a few monasteries and churches around the former capital of Mtskheta, located approximately 20 kilometers north of Tbilisi. These included Jvari Monastery, Shio-Mgvime Monastery, Samtavro Transfiguration Orthodox Church, and Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. This country has a long history of religion and appeared very immersed in it. Along with the many days I spent in Iran around the mosques, I was feeling a spiritual awakening, and my heart became overcome with boundless love and generosity. After a few more visits to these places of worship, I might see a halo glow over my head. This was a fun trip, but also one of self-discovery.

View from the Jvari Monastery, Mtskheta, the old capital of Georgia, at the confluence of the Mtkvari and Aragvi rivers

Jvari Monastery, sixth-century Georgian Orthodox monastery near Mtskheta — View from the Jvari Monastery, Mtskheta, the old capital of Georgia, at the confluence of the Mtkvari and Aragvi rivers

22/3/2018. After the day trip outside Tbilisi, I returned in the afternoon to take in more of the city. The River Kura flowed through the city, edged by spectacular vertical cliffs. At the top of the cliffs, multi-storeyed houses perched at the edge in a delicate balancing act, almost tipping over. Their multi-storeyed facades extended the vertical cliff faces to precarious height. Some of their backsides even extended beyond the edge. Did they love living over the edge? Why not? They had views worth dying for.

Georgians told me that when God was dishing out lands to all his earthly subjects, the Georgians were late to the party. However, God took out the land he had reserved for himself and gave it to the Georgians, due to his special love for them. It was a truly touching story—a people blessed and grateful.