Here's the second part of our trip to Tbilisi. Maybe not as exciting, because really, what can beat a train fire? Still, enjoy. I will (hopefully) add pictures later.
***************************************************************************************************************************
The Hotel Dzveli Ubani is a small guesthouse on the edge of
the Old Town near Freedom Square that K found in the Lonely Planet
guidebook. It’s a cozy little place, the
staff is friendly (if not completely fluent in English), and the rooms are
clean and comfortable. Anyway, we
dropped off our things, and went in search of something to eat, since we hadn’t
really eaten anything beyond snack-type food in about 24 hours. We walked down what we thought was the main
street, but after about 2 blocks, it turned into a rather quiet little street,
so we walked back down to the square and tried another road where many cars
were headed. It still wasn’t Rustaveli
Avenue (I think it’s an avenue) but we were starving, so we started looking for
a café. In stark contrast to Yerevan’s
4-cafes-per-meter layout, there seemed to be only about 1 café every kilometer
in Tbilisi. We finally found one, a
two-story structure with a café on top, a restaurant in the basement, and its
glass façade jutting out onto the sidewalk. Honestly, if it hadn’t had an enormous neon sign saying “Café” we would
have walked right by it.
Cafes in Tbilisi are more like cafeterias: you pick up a
tray and silverware at one end of a food bar, then point your way across. It’s kind of like a food version of those
“Choose Your Own Adventure” books that were popular in the 80s. There were all kinds of salads, side dishes,
and main courses, some recognizable, some not. Given that we don’t speak Russian or Georgian, trying to find vegetarian
options for K was a little challenging, but we managed.
After a little snack, we continued our search for Rustaveli,
determined to find it that day so we could explore more thoroughly the
following day. Tbilisi isn’t a planned
city, like Yerevan, or a majority of cities I’ve visited. The roads amble about, crossing over other
streets, dead-ending and forking whenever they please. Throw in a few roundabouts and very little
(if any) signage, and you can see why we got lost so easily. Finally, though, after traipsing around,
through parks and past churches, we found the fabled Rustaveli Avenue! We came upon the street almost at its center,
next to a large church where many tourists were taking pictures. Exhilarated by our find, we strolled happily
up the road, taking in all the sights and pointing out places to stop and
explore the next day.
Our happy planning was, unfortunately, interrupted by a
group of rather persistent gypsy children begging for money. In Yerevan, the beggars generally sit or
stand to the side of a busy sidewalk with their hand cupped, rarely even asking
passersby for a handout. Not these
kids. They followed us for two blocks,
pinching our arms, hanging on K, all the while jabbering in Georgian with the
occasional English word thrown in. K
bore the brunt of it, with one girl who would try to lay her head in his arm
every few feet, no matter how many times he said no. When they finally realized we weren’t going
to give them anything, one of them kind of smacked me on the shoulder and they all
turned and walked away, muttering loudly. I had K check and make sure his wallet was still there, and luckily it
was. Even in Manila, I’d never
encountered such aggressive begging! Sadly, this was not to be the only time we were pursued by gypsy children. Tbilisi seems to be crawling with them.
By the time we reached the end of Rustaveli (thereby
figuring out where we needed to start the following day), we were beat, sweaty,
and smelly. After taking showers, we
headed out for an early dinner. Oddly
enough, we ended up at Tbilisuri, the restaurant under the café we’d gone to
for lunch. The atmosphere was great –
plenty of dark wood, and a live band in the next room. You could hear people toasting each other,
and see a group dancing to the music. Everyone wore huge smiles, and though the wait-staff spoke little to no
English, they were very friendly. The
food was incredible too – we ordered 3 dishes, and it was more food than we
could have eaten in 3 days. The wine was
amazing, and for dessert, we topped it off with ice cream and fruit for me, and
a glass of brandy for K.
The following morning, we had a simple but delicious
breakfast in the hotel dining room, and then set off to explore Rustaveli
Avenue and find Prospero’s Books, an English-language bookstore and café we’d
read about in the Lonely Planet. (We’re
both avid readers, and the lack of books in English in Armenia was definitely
driving us batty.) The street is
beautiful, with trees and old buildings on both sides, and a lot of souvenir/antique
shops. We stopped in at a few, looking
at old medals, jewelry, and wines in novelty bottles.
After reaching the end of the avenue and not finding
Prospero’s, we turned back, determined to find it. Lo and behold, it is tucked back in an alley,
with only a large number painted on the entrance arch way high above your
head. I was a little sketched out to be
walking through an alley, to be honest, but it’s a short one, more of an
archway, really, and when you emerge on the other end, there’s a sunny little
patio with tables in front of the store itself. Expecting a mediocre bookstore full of crappily-written popular novels,
we were happily surprised to find an extensive collection of non-fiction works,
including a great section of literature pertaining to the former Soviet Union
and the Southern Caucasus, and a travel guide section that looks like the
owners bought every guide Lonely Planet has to offer. The store still had a collection of the usual
mainstream novels, of course, so if you like that stuff (and I do, on occasion)
you’ll want to drop in as well. The only
bad thing about it is that the books are relatively expensive. If you’re just passing through, I wouldn’t
recommend buying from them, but if, like me, you are in the area for an
extended amount of time and didn’t bring much reading material, you must stop
by.
Anyway, as we paid for our books, who should walk in but
Always Tired, looking for his lady friend. She was delayed in meeting him so we ordered drinks and sat down to wait
for her. A few minutes later she
arrived, looking fashionable as always. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what she sees in him. She’s a somewhat serious woman, and rather
quiet. Always Tired is obnoxious and
immature. Maybe they balance each other
out? Whatever. At any rate, we all made arrangements to go
back to Yerevan together on Monday, and went our separate ways.
Since we’d already walked the full length of Rustaveli
Avenue, K and I decided to drop off our things at the hotel and then head into
the Old Town. From the Dzveli Ubani, you
wander down the hill, past older, more charming, storefronts, through a really
cute shopping center (for lack of a better phrase to describe it) that looks
like an Italian street (or what I would imagine an Italian street looks like),
past a woman in a gigantic orange selling soft drinks, and down to a crazy
intersection. Standing in the middle of
the intersection (not that I recommend this) and looking up at the hills, you
can see an old fort, and a church next to it. To the left are the sulphur baths. But nowhere can you see a clear path up to the church and fort.
Being the adventurous (and perhaps foolhardy) people that we
are (ha!), we picked a road that seemed to go up the hill. It went way up hill, at an unbelievable
steep angle. I couldn’t believe there
were cars driving on that twisty, steep road, and found myself wondering how in
the world they drive it in the winter with all the ice. When we finally reached the top, we weren’t
at the fort and church, but at (we think) the botanical gardens. Looking up
from their gates, we could see the church, so we paid our 6 lari and went
in.
The gardens are gorgeous – trees and flowers everywhere, a
waterfall, and a frog pond are some of the things we saw as we (rather quickly)
passed through. We followed an uphill
path that took us to the top, but still not to the church/fort. Instead, we found ourselves at the Mother Georgia
statue. Beyond her, though, was our
destination. All we had to do was walk
across the hill top. But wait, you can’t
just walk across the hill top. The path
goes slightly downwards, so we ended up halfway down the hill again, but in the
end, we were at the gates to the church and its surrounding fort.
Georgian churches look quite a bit like Armenian churches,
to be honest. But the cool thing about
this one was that you could climb the surrounding wall. No, not in the rock climbing sense, but there
are stairs that run parallel to it, allowing its former inhabitants to patrol
the perimeter. Those stairs are steep too, and without a handrail, which
so wouldn’t fly in the US (damn us litigious bastards). We climbed up to the highest part, where they
still had arrow hole thingies, and places to pour hot oil on would-be invaders. How cool is that?
Next to the church is a tower thing with a flag pole at the
top. Wanting to see the city from above,
we climbed up steep inclines, scrambled over rocks, and hoisted ourselves up a
wall. All to see what Tbilisi looks like
from above. It was totally worth it
too. You could overlay a map on the view
perfectly. Tbilisi is a gorgeous city.
Anyway, all the climbing made us tired, so we decided to cap
our day with a nice soak in the sulphur baths. At the very end of road where most, if not all, the baths are located,
there is a building covered in blue tile and mosaics that looks like a
mosque. It is, in fact, a bath
house. We went there first, since it was
listed as a must-visit in the Lonely Planet guide (we are such tourists). The sign certifying them as sanitary was the
only thing in English. I went to ask the
receptionist if she spoke English, and got a very terse, “no.” I then asked if there was anyone there who
could speak English. Again, “no.” So we left and went to The Royal Baths,
figuring if they had a sign in English, they had to know enough to assist
tourists. Luckily, this time we were
right.
We were led to a private room, asked if we’d like a scrub
(yes, please!), given towels, asked to pay, and then left to our own
devices. The bath rooms (suites, maybe?)
consist of an outer room with couches, a table, and a TV, plus shelves and
hooks and things for your clothes. There’s also a small half-bathroom. Then there’s the room with the actual bath in it. Damn is it hot in there too. The rooms are submerged, and so are the tubs,
which are more like tiled pools set into the floor. Across from the tub was a large marble table
slab thing, with one end raised, like a lounger. This is where they scrub you down. And yes, you get completely naked.
For the first 40 minutes of our hour in the baths, we played
around in the tub, pretend-swimming, and discovering that silver and sulphur do
not mix. (duh) We had to get out a few
times to cool off because the air and water were so hot in that room. Plus, I kept having to pee. Then, a very large man in a pair of swim
shorts knocked on the door and came in. It was time for K to get scrubbed. I had the benefit (?) of watching from the
safety of the tub. He was told (well, not exactly – there was a lot of
gesturing) to lie down on the marble lounger, face up (still naked,
folks!). The large Georgian then doused
him with a bucket full of warmish water, and proceeded to scrub him with a mitt
made from an old khilim (that’s a carpet) from neck to feet. He was really getting up in there, too, as
far as I could tell. Whenever he wanted
K to turn over, he’d smack him on the shoulder, producing this great slapping
noise. Made me giggle every time. Next, the large Georgian put a bar of soap in
a wet pillowcase, and did this thing where he trapped a big bubble of air in
it, and then used it to wash off K. It
was so cool, I totally wish I knew how to do it. Another bucket of water over the head, and K
was told (again, using this term loosely) to go shower off. Can I just tell you right now, as a side
note, how weird it is to watch a guy have this done? There’s just lots of nuts everywhere. I mean, K’s an attractive guy, but watching
the package flop around while it’s being scrubbed isn’t exactly sexy, you know?
Anyway… the large Georgian left the room while K showered,
and we wondered if he would be scrubbing me too. I’m no prude, and have no problems with
people seeing me naked. But getting
scrubbed by a man I don’t know? That’s a
bit much. Our question was answered when
an older woman walked in and gestured for K to leave. There were a few differences between my
experience and K’s, though. When I was
getting scrubbed, the woman used a soap and oil solution on me, and she used a
loofa instead of a pillowcase to soap me off. Oh, and I got a mini-massage as well. Ah, being a girl! Still though,
you would not believe how much skin comes off of you when they scrub! It’s really kind of nasty. I exfoliate on a semi-regular basis, but
there was still a lot of dead skin coming off of me. All the grossness is totally worth it
though. When you’re done, your skin is
so smooth, you don’t even need moisturizer! Definitely something I want to do again. Like, on a regular basis. Hmmm,
how much do you think it would cost to install one of those things in your
house, and then hire someone to scrub you?
Post-bath and scrub, both K and I were in a happy, sleepy
haze. We weren’t very hungry, so we
bought some fresh khadjapuri and went back to the hotel. Once we’d flopped down on our bed, there was
no moving us, we were so worn out. This
was fine, since we needed to be up super early (like, 6:30) to meet up with
Always Tired and his lady friend. We
turned on the music video channel and made up the words to Russian songs until
we fell asleep.
Monday morning, bright and early, we were picked up by AT
and his lady friend at Freedom Square in a new Toyota Corolla hatchback
taxi. Apparently, it’s a brand new taxi
service in Georgia. I totally want that
car, by the way, but it’s for the non-US markets only, apparently. Bastards. Why is all the cool shit for the non-US markets? Why? Why? Anyway… we took this taxi, this nice, new, clean taxi, to the border of
Georgia and Armenia, where we crossed the border. This was an interesting process. First, we stood in a short line in front of a
tiny little shed that served as a border post for the Georgian side. We handed our passports to the man who
stamped us out of Georgia, and then walked across a bridge to the Armenian
border post. But on the bridge, you are
neither in Georgia, nor Armenia. I don’t
know why, but that sort of thing always makes me crazy, in a goofy, “let’s do
something totally illegal” sort of way. After all, whose laws applied on the bridge? K, however, was having no part of my
scheming, and practically dragged me over to the Armenian post where I could no
longer cause any trouble.
Did I mention that when the Armenian border guys stamped us
out of Armenia, they took K’s visa? No? Ok, well they did. He had a 21-day, single-entry, tourist visa,
which expired on the Sunday we were in Tbilisi. So the guards just took it. This
meant that he had to buy another visa at the border. But which of the 4 windows were we supposed
to go to? Luckily, AT’s lady friend knew
where we needed to go, so she pointed us to the right window. Amazingly enough, the process wasn’t all that
difficult – just fill in a form, give them some money, and they put the visa
sticker in your passport. However, even
though they had checked both our passports (I have a residency card so didn’t
need a visa), they didn’t stamp us into the country. Instead, we had to go to a different line for
that. How much sense does that
make? The visa guys are checking your
credentials and stuff, why can’t they just stamp you through? It’s so
Soviet! Even so, we still only spent
about an hour going through the process, as opposed to the 3 hours total it
took on the train, and most of that was just because there were so many people
in line.
AT’s lady friend arranged another taxi for us to take from
the border back to Yerevan. However, the
service she went through never sent the taxi! We managed to get one of the taxi drivers waiting on the Armenian side
of the border to take us for the same price the service would have charged,
though his car was questionable at best. But we needed to get back to Yerevan, and he was an affable fellow, so
off we went. We took the long route,
passing through Ijevan, Dilijan, and Sevan, where there was still snow in some
places. Snow! At the end of May!
We arrived back in Yerevan, where it was incredibly
hot, around 3:00 in the afternoon. The
taxi let us off at the Ani Plaza Hotel, and K and I said goodbye to AT and his
lady friend. On our walk home, I almost
got K run over about eight times, because I completely forgot he was carrying a
big bag (full of both our stuff), and would just dart across the street at the
first opening. Then I’d turn around,
wondering where he was, finally spotting him way behind me, looking unhappy at
me and my crazy street-crossing. When we
finally got back to the apartment, we were both so tired. We used the “throw the stuff into 2 piles”
method of unpacking, and settled in for a quiet night before I had to return to
work the following day.
Recent Comments