As I mentioned in the last blog, our Rome trip was cut short by a fortunate opportunity for me to go on a work trip to the Republic of Georgia (now simply and confusingly known as “Georgia”). 
The country, whose name is thought to derived from the Greek word Georgios (farmer), is located in the south Caucasus and has a climate that ranges from sub-tropical on the Black Sea coast to downright tundra in the Caucasus mountains. It’s small (about the size of South Carolina), poor (the main economic activity is agriculture), and still waking up culturally from more than 40 years of oppressive Soviet rule. 
I was staying in the port town of Batumi for a week, which is a small city (about 120,000) on the coast that had views of both water and mountains. The weather was great (upper 50s), the food was healthy and local, and the prices couldn’t have been better. (I got a haircut there for about $3.00). 
What I found most interesting was the language. Apparently not related to Indo-European languages, Georgian is weird to listen to. It’s also weird to see, as the alphabet they use there is completely unrelated to any other alphabets of the world.
Other basics:
The coal that they burned at night to keep warm not only created a thick haze that clouded one’s vision, but it also reeked to high heaven – so much so that when I blew my nose at night it was black.
Georgia is the birthplace of wine, dating back to 5,000 B.C. The local wine is characterized as naturally semi-sweet and very competitive with French, Spanish and other Western European wines. I, of course, heard this before I went and decided to buy some wine. Unfortunately, ancient tradition doesn’t always equal appealing flavor.
Parts of Georgia are apparently very touristy at times because it is considered both an excellent ski resort and an excellent sea resort. Would I go all the way to ski there? No. Would I like to bathe in the Black Sea or put my towel down on the bumpy rocks they call a shore? No.
The country is also the home of Uncle Joe Stalin.
The country, whose name is thought to derived from the Greek word Georgios (farmer), is located in the south Caucasus and has a climate that ranges from sub-tropical on the Black Sea coast to downright tundra in the Caucasus mountains. It’s small (about the size of South Carolina), poor (the main economic activity is agriculture), and still waking up culturally from more than 40 years of oppressive Soviet rule. I was staying in the port town of Batumi for a week, which is a small city (about 120,000) on the coast that had views of both water and mountains. The weather was great (upper 50s), the food was healthy and local, and the prices couldn’t have been better. (I got a haircut there for about $3.00). What I found most interesting was the language. Apparently not related to Indo-European languages, Georgian is weird to listen to. It’s also weird to see, as the alphabet they use there is completely unrelated to any other alphabets of the world.Other basics:
The coal that they burned at night to keep warm not only created a thick haze that clouded one’s vision, but it also reeked to high heaven – so much so that when I blew my nose at night it was black.
Georgia is the birthplace of wine, dating back to 5,000 B.C. The local wine is characterized as naturally semi-sweet and very competitive with French, Spanish and other Western European wines. I, of course, heard this before I went and decided to buy some wine. Unfortunately, ancient tradition doesn’t always equal appealing flavor.
Parts of Georgia are apparently very touristy at times because it is considered both an excellent ski resort and an excellent sea resort. Would I go all the way to ski there? No. Would I like to bathe in the Black Sea or put my towel down on the bumpy rocks they call a shore? No.The country is also the home of Uncle Joe Stalin.
2 comments:
Kate is probably pleased she didn't accompany you on this venture. The coal fumes sound awful, however I realize it is a poor country and they have to stay warm or cook some how. I will refocus my energies on the US and all of our CO2 spewing autos.
Justin, my step son, Tom spent a semester in Russia and while there, he visited Georgia. He speaks Russian and was able to communicate with some of natives. He did spend some time with a Georgian family and found it odd that they eat a sandwich with only one slice of bread. He also learned how to dance, like traditonal Goergian dances. Tom also speaks German - fluently, I think.
Nice pictures and blog.
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