Old Tbilisi

Architecturally my first impressions of old houses in Tbilisi was, of all places, New Orleans. Small, two or three storey houses with upper story balconies and verandas, line narrow cobbled streets, while the more grand buildings are influenced by Art Noveau.  However, right up till 1920, Tbilisi was 75% Armenian, so the older districts of the city are in fact Armenian and not Georgian.

While many of these fine old houses are restored, many more are desperately dilapidated and literally falling apart. The steep hillsides and cliffs have created beautiful urban landscapes and in particular grand houses overhang cliffs along the river and the inland gorges.

Having a few days spare in Istanbul I cast around for cheap fares to nearby countries and quickly settled on a flight to Tbilisi Georgia just a couple of hours away. Experience has taught me to lower my expectations for any new country so I arrived in Georgia with a very open mind.

The setting and style of the city surprised me. Laid out on both banks of the languid and muddy Mtkvari River, the heart of this city of 1.5 million is not so large and any attraction of importance is a comfortable walk. Surrounding the city are rugged mountains and perched high about the city is a Soviet style mega statue of Mother Georgia. Just along the ridge from Mum Georgia is the old citadel, though all that remains are the massive walls.

Definitely not Middle East in style, the overall feel is that of an Eastern European city, which given two hundred years of Russian occupation is not surprising. Much of the old city remains, mixed in with intriguing contemporary buildings, though the people drive their cars like other ME maniacs.
The streets are lined with beautiful old trees, welcome in the summer heat and throughout the city are small attractive leafy parks.

Many Muslims, with their obsession with cleanliness, consider Christians as not being very clean and I now see why. While the young people are smartly dressed and tidy, older people have that slobby Russian look about them. During my time in the city I caught several taxis, each driven by a mature overweight, unshaven man who looked and smelt like he hadn't washed or changed his clothes for a week. I kept thinking that my mum would have never let my father out of the house looking like that!!















Unkempt people aside, the famous Georgian wines are  excellent and inexpensive,while the food is also tasty and different and the city has many good restaurants and cafes.

The city is safe, though the people, while not friendly, are not unfriendly either and if you are looking for somewhere a bit different (and inexpensive) to go, put Georgia near the top of your list.

Hot

There is hot and then there is really hot. This is a recent picture of a traffic light that melted in the heat in Kuwait....

Fate, Kurds and I

Arriving at the small hotel I had booked in Tbilisi Georgia, I fell into conversation with the young man on reception. When I asked him how many languages he spoke he listed Georgian, Russian,  English and Kurdish. Surprised, I spoke to him in Kurdish, which surprised him even more. As it turns out he is part of a small Georgian Kurdish population. I knew there had once been a substantial Armenian Kurdish population (now largely assimilated into the general Armenian society), but I had never heard of Georgian Kurds.

Even more intriguing is that his family, who owned the hotel, are Yazidis, that strange blend of Zoroasterian, Islamic and Christian traditions and that there is even a small Yazidi Fire Temple in Tbilisi. The young man's great ambition was to visit the Lalish Fire Temple in Kurdistan.

After that conversation we were just the best of friends. I am not a believer in Fate, but Kurds and I have some odd invisible attraction.

Murat pretends to cook

Leaving Sivas wss almost a big a production as arriving. Not every one could see me off so first stop was to say goodbye to Ali near his house and meet is young son who is such a 'mini Ali'. Of course his wife was no where to be seen. However, at the next stop to pick up Imre, I did get to meet his wife and his very cute daughter Asia who is just seven months old. Imre and his wife were a bit glum as he had applied (for the second time) for a teaching job in Ankara where they are both from, but had just learnt that day that he had been turned down.

Then off to each again at a lovely outdoor restaurant with tables set among the trees. Mixed kebaps were the order for the day and then off to the airport for the flight to Istanbul.

Murat decided he would like to pose with the kebaps as if he was the proud chef, but in reality he didn't get to cook this time. 

While most men in the Middle East kiss on the cheeks, Turkish nationalist touch temples twice - almost a hongi but not quite. So with a  lot of temple touching I ended a very happy week in Sivas.

Turkish coffee

You can't come to Turkey without having Turkish coffee, so off we all go to the best coffee place in town.

The coffee service is lovely and I have to say that is the best part. Sure the coffee is strong and tasty, but there is sludge on the top and sludge on the bottom, so all you get is two mouthfuls at the very most. Even sipping is a challenge as it is very difficult to avoid the gritty sludge which is just unpleasant.

Of course I said it was delicious.... 

Socialising in Sivas

On Saturday night I was invited to two parties and they couldn't have been more different in every sense of the word.

The first was a circumcision "after party" held to celebrate the loss of foreskin by two brothers. In most Arab countries circumcision is preformed when the boy is a baby (well under one year old), but in Turkey the boys are any age between four and ten.

The party was held in a tea garden and around 100 people attended. The younger boy (about four)was running around having a great time, but the older brother (around six) was much less happy and sat quietly for most of the evening.

After that it was off to a wedding. Turks do things in reverse and have the party first and then the actually wedding, a much smaller affair, is held the following day. This party was in the street (or at least the men were in the street) as the wedding party is segregated, with the women in a screened off garden. That of course felt a bit odd in itself, though I am now much more used to this type of event after being in Kurdistan for a year.

First the band played for the men with a lot of vigorous dancing  and then went and played for the women who were having an equally good time judging by the hands waving in the air above the screen.

The family were very pleased to have a foreigner at the wedding and everyone wanted photos. In this photo the groom is on left and, no he is not getting married to the man next to him, though you would certainly have thought so. The guy next to the groom is the 'protector', sort of like the best man, who has the job of looking after the groom prior to getting married. He certainly did a sterling job as he never let go of his arm all evening.

While it might seem unusual to have a segregated, the same occurs at funerals which seems more  strange.