April 2009. Georgia borders to Turkey in the North East, sharing the Black Sea coastline. While being so close, differences are far bigger than I expected. Take for example the unique Georgian language and its beautiful curly script.
Another interesting difference was the role of alcohol. While virtually absent in the daily life in Turkey it is overwhelmingly present in Georgia. It is for example not unusual to find a jar of chacha, the local fire water, or home made wine on the supra (meaning something like "feast") breakfast table in your guest house.
From Zugdidi, it is a five hour ride to Mestia (Upper Svanetia), along a rough winding road, with here and there fresh landslides, catching spectacular glimpses of snow capped Caucasus peaks. Along the side of the road we saw every couple of minutes small shrine-like structures, almost like mail boxes or bird-houses, some featuring portraits of one or two - usually young - men, who have perished on this treacherous road, presumably because of drunk driving. Friends and relatives leave offerings of wine and food on a small shelf in front of the portraits, and raise a glass to the memory of the departed and wishing for a safe trip for themselves.
Another interesting difference was the role of alcohol. While virtually absent in the daily life in Turkey it is overwhelmingly present in Georgia. It is for example not unusual to find a jar of chacha, the local fire water, or home made wine on the supra (meaning something like "feast") breakfast table in your guest house.
From Zugdidi, it is a five hour ride to Mestia (Upper Svanetia), along a rough winding road, with here and there fresh landslides, catching spectacular glimpses of snow capped Caucasus peaks. Along the side of the road we saw every couple of minutes small shrine-like structures, almost like mail boxes or bird-houses, some featuring portraits of one or two - usually young - men, who have perished on this treacherous road, presumably because of drunk driving. Friends and relatives leave offerings of wine and food on a small shelf in front of the portraits, and raise a glass to the memory of the departed and wishing for a safe trip for themselves. 
On my last day, it was Orthodox Easter, along the road from Zugdidi to Batumi airport, where I needed to catch a flight back to Turkey, the graveyards were like joyous picnic places, living and dead people celebrating together, sharing food, wine, chacha .... (click on the photo and find the bottles!!)
Cheers, gaumarjos, sherefe!
Cheers, gaumarjos, sherefe!
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