Tbilisi gives off a great impression as you drive into the city from the airport. The streets are clean, modern, well-lit and straddle brand new buildings. Superficially, of course, when you do not really know what to expect, you inevitably compare cities with other familiar cities.
As you enter the city centre, you are bedazzled by lights all around – the most fascinating display being the sparkling waves of colour running up and down the iconic Eiffel-reminiscent TV tower. The Freedom Bridge shines like a gleaming metal skeleton, hulked across the Mtkvari River. Dominating the skyline from another angle is the Narikala Fortress, originally a Persian citadel, which is floodlit to maximum effect.
Tbilisi is the capital of Georgia. Founded in the third century by the Iberian king, Vakhtang Gorgasali, the name means ‘hot’. Legend goes that Vakhtang shot a Pheasant while out hunting one day, and the bird fell into a hot spring and emerged either completely boiled or healed (depending on the version you prefer). There is an area called Abanotubani, with many little domed buildings which house sulphur baths. Bathing in hot water which smells like rotten eggs may not be everyone’s omelet, but famous fans like Pushkin and Dumas swear by the rejuvenating and healing powers of the city’s namesake waters.
The country was one of the first to convert to Christianity, after the miracles of one Saint Nino astounded the King Mirian so much that he decided to switch religious allegiances in the 4th century, only 25 years later than Armenia. It is said that Nino had a vision of the Virgin Mary who gave her a cross made of vine leaves. This, she later bound with her own hair, and the cross itself is now said to be kept at the Sion Cathedral (a copy is available for public display).
Half an hour away, the former capital of Mtskheta boasts several jewels in the religious crown. King Mirian built the first Georgian church here, but the main claim to fame of the Svetitskhoveli Church is that it allegedly houses Christ’s robe from the crucifixion. A Mtskheta Jew bought the robe from a Roman soldier and brought it back to Georgia and gave it to his sister, Sidonia, who allegedly died from a passionate fit of faith. She was buried with the robe, and King Mirian built a church over her grave on the instructions of St Nino. The church was enlarged and rebuilt by King Vakhtang in the 5th century but one of the pillars remained untouched. It was reputed to be on top of where Sidonia was buried (and because of the robe of Christ), many miracles happened around it, leading it to be named “The Life Giving Pillar” (Svetitskhoveli). Skeptics may be comforted by the fact that there are various other places around the globe which claim to possess Christ’s robe (just how many did he have?).
A little further away, up on a cliff, the Jvari Monastery surveys a magnificent vista including the joining of the Aragvi and Mtkvari Rivers (the entire population at the time was baptised in the Aragvi). The tiny church up there is famous for a big wooden cross – believed to be erected either by St Nino or King Mirian, just before or soon after converting the country to Christianity. This site is believed by many Georgians to be the spiritual heart of the country.
Speaking of history, Georgia, like most of the other Caucasus countries, has had a tumultuous one. History lovers will know that Western Georgian territory by the coast (modern day Batumi) once formed part of the kingdom of Colchis – home of King Aeetes, Medea, and the mythical Golden Fleece so besought by Jason (of Argonauts fame).
A visit to the National Museum makes for an interesting afternoon. Colchis and surrounds were rich in gold and precious stones. Beautiful and elaborate ornaments, tools, jewellery, and other items showcase the mastery and creativity of Colchian artisans. Georgia has been under many occupiers – the Persians, Mongols, Turks, and most recently, Russians. The Russians were ignominiously booted out after eight decades of violent and bloody suppression of Georgian nationalists. The museum records how whole family lines of the Georgian elite were eradicated to prevent any form of challenge to Russian supremacy. The straw that broke the camel’s back was the 1989 massacre of twenty hunger strikers by Russian soldiers outside the Parliament building. Georgia declared its independence from Russia two years later.
The years following independence were not smooth, with aggressive breakaway states, ethnic cleansing, and political instability. The peaceful Rose revolution in 1993 ushered in a new era for Georgia, with a new and young President. Although the Russian language is still taught and spoken in Georgia, most people prefer not to speak it. Taxi drivers often stated that they didn’t speak the language when I asked. It is, after all, the language of Georgian oppression, and the memories remain sore.
Apart from buses, trams and taxis, Tbilisi boasts an old metro underground system, which runs with Soviet precision. The stations are built far underground, and the massively long and steep escalators can be quite scary. There are two main lines, with the interchange at Central Station. The main line from Akhmeteli to Varkeli is easy enough to use because signs are posted in English. Changing to use the other line is a lot trickier because signs are only displayed in Georgian script, making it difficult to know in which direction and stop you are going.
The main artery, Rustaveli Avenue, runs like the Champs Élysées of the Caucasus, with its fancy sidewalks, upmarket shops, and monuments. Starting from Freedom Square (where Lenin’s statue was replaced by one of St George killing the dragon), you get to see the ancient Kashveti Church, the Opera House and the National Theatre.
I was particularly fortunate enough to be invited into the National Museum of Manuscripts – rather unfortunately housed in an unassuming and not altogether easy-to-find location. I was given a private tour by the director of the museum, and shown collections open only to researchers and academic historians. That the literary heritage of Georgia was so carefully preserved, recorded and enhanced is a major boon for the country’s legacy.
Among the literary jewels were various depictions of the evolution of the Georgian alphabet (three incarnations) and several early publications of the beloved national poet, Shota Rustaveli. Written sometime around the twelfth century, his epic poem Vepkhistkaosani – better known in English as ‘The Knight in Panther’s Skin’ – is a Medieval tour de force which rivals Tolkien. The tale of an Arabian prince who helps an Indian prince to find his betrothed and vanquish his enemies spans over a hundred pages. The language is beautiful, much like how the English language used to be before it was corrupted by popular culture and impatience. And just in case you are wondering, yes, I read the entire thing (albeit in its English translation) in one sitting of four hours while waiting for my flight to Armenia.
The heart of any nation lies with its people – much-vaunted for their hospitality. There is a traditional Georgian saying that goes ‘A guest is a gift from God’. An obvious stranger to their country (like me) tends to draw prolonged and unabashed stares. This is common in many countries where tourism has yet to take a major hold. I remember visiting some parts of Ireland in the nineties, when pedestrians and cars would literally stop and stare as I walked down the high street. The saying proved to be true when I arrived too late at the park complex which houses the famous TV broadcasting tower. It was closed. Upon seeing my disappointment, the guard spoke to a few of his colleagues and decided that as I was a ‘guest’, they would let me in. Thanks to this amazing hospitality, I got to view a stunning panorama of Tbilisi at night.
On this occasion, I was extremely fortunate to make the acquaintance of a local Georgian family who invited me to their home for a traditional meal and conversation. They exuded a generous warmth and genuine interest in my background, opinions, and enthusiasm for learning. Over the course of the meal, we exchanged stories about different countries, experiences, and prejudices. What made it even more poignant was the fact that this family had suffered through politics, having been victims of the ethnic cleansing in Abkhazia. They were forced to leave their homes and families and flee to Tbilisi. Life was difficult but they worked hard and were determined to build a future for their then three-year-old son, so that he never wanted for anything. This gave them an extraordinary sense of character, and a different sense of respect from me. That they were so open about their lives was heartwarming. I felt humbled to think that all I had to give them in return were some anecdotes and a tin of butter cookies from Harrods.
Despite my love affair with Georgian cuisine (which I will discuss in a later blogpost) and the wonderful sights and historical stories I have learnt, I can safely say that the pulse of its people is what will keep Georgia always on my mind.