Georgiousness

Home now, waking up at midnight and seeing a landscape of hours of quiet time in front of me - a foreign but friendly home that welcomes me as a guest for the time being.

Processing a bit now. Reading the books that I bought, going through the photographs I made. One has 12 short stories that illustrate the Georgian mentality. The first story is by Ilia Chavchavadze, who lived in the 19th century. He is generally known as the 'Father of Georgia' and revered by the nation; the last president claimed political legacy. Whereas the Russian woman who I met on my first day in Tblisi said that the neighbouring house was a 'period house' museum, I learned on my last day that it was the house of Chavchavadze himself. The grey street then started to sparkle, and the colours of the neighbourhood came out from beneath its veneer, otherwise damaged by years of neglect.

There is another memorial house across the street, but it is of someone that exists beyond the confines of Google. And I learn on my last day that my guesthouse was the house of Giorgi Chubanishvili, who, as mentioned, was the father of the guesthouse 'husband'. The house is landmarked with a plaque, as he founded the Tbilisi State Academy of Art, and this street is named after him too. (There is a much larger boulevard named after Chavchavadze.)

It was a beautiful last and lazy sunny day, and I spent it exploring the southern part of Old Tblisi, which I had neglected until then. It was a gorgeous - georgious? - Saturday, and it seemed I passed by at least 5 wedding parties which were having photographs taken, all in the same part of Old Tbilisi. They all seemed to be each in a glistening soap bubble, each party close to another but lots of space and happiness within. Of note in the area, actually of extraordinary note, is a mosque which serves both Shia and Sunni Muslims. Perhaps this band ought to connect up with female imams in western China and develop some sort of unorthodox mosque.

By the end of the afternoon I went by Sioni Cathedral. It was, I learn in Google, the main Georgian Orthodox Cathedral for centuries until 2004. It is, like all of the churches that I visited, without pews. During the two hours that I was there, people came in and out as a service went on - and in my experience of Orthodox churches, a service has started at some point before I arrive, and ends at some point after I leave. Pews seem to be 'unorthodox' and not something I should take for granted ever again in a church. People went in and out of the Cathedral - normal enough - and some people were standing inside. But many were standing outside listening to the service which was broadcast on speakers outside. I was lucky to have a bench seat outside.

The scene was beautiful on a variety of levels. That the congregation seemed willingly and earnestly there, and were there for an indeterminate length of time that was not dictated by form or schedule. That there was this openness and informality to it all - that people kissed and touched the church (I'm an architect, but have I ever kissed a building?), walked around, that children were running around and playing. That people were clothed in all ways such that one's facade and one's interior might not necessarily 'look' the same. That people ritually made the sign of the cross, 3 times, right shoulder then left. The sounds of the service were Christian sounds, and the music a light and open chanting the Georgians do so well. Indeed a polyphony to the music and to the people in this arrangement.

I have often invoked on this trip my time in Damascus, and this scenario was no exception. The open area was like the open court outside of the former Cathedral of St. John, which together (court and cathedral) constitute the Umayyad Mosque in Damascus. Sacred space open to the skies and open to the masses, but connected to a ritualized, interior space.

I read through my Georgian food and culture book yesterday night. It seemed to really drive the nail in - that much of what I experienced has some derivation to this country's comfortable and daily relationship with their form of Christianity. It's like a really snug fit in a lambswool slipper. That the wine would have a connection - i.e. the grapevine cross. That the Transfiguration seems to be timed with wine harvesting and production. That some of the foods I had were Lenten or ritual foods. That the Georgian tradition for hospitality stems from Matthew 25.

On my last evening, I see the marionette play "The Autumn of My Spring" at the Gabriadze Theatre. A very good production that describes a personal story but also broadly paints a picture of post-war and post-Soviet Georgia using finely crafted marionettes of a grandmother, a bird, and other creatures in a Georgian 'Alice in Wonderland.' As I remember in Damascus, and as I rarely if ever see here, modern politics and in particular corruption, disguised quite lightly, come out in fine form. And what better way to describe politicians as marionettes?

Just before the show I had sat at an outdoor bar/café, in a little plaza outside the theatre and had a cup of tea. It seemed like the new, quietly pumping heart of the old city. It had been completely redone, so it does not resemble the rest of the crumbling city. Behind me was a pack of guys from the UK watching 'the game'. In front is the theatre, an artistic labour of love with a crooked clock at the top, and embraced in colourful tilework and whimsical sculpture. Every day at noon and 7 a little mechanical display of marionettes happens for a minute, and a gathering of tourists provides the mirror image, myself included.

A women seats herself a couple of tables away from me, and we nod. I rarely, if ever, nod, to another person simply sitting down at a nearby table. But we are in another world, and we can make this other world the way we see most fit. The theatre crowd starts to fill the plaza, and the other woman leaves. As I enter the theatre, I find that my seat is next to her, and I am not the least bit surprised. She tells me that these things seem to happen. We chat as if we've known each other all along, and are just catching up.

A good trip. I knew before I arrived that I would return, and that remains.