Borjomi

This weekend we had a couple of experiences that really highlighted what travel is all about. Borjomi, which is known for its natural scenery and carbonated spring water (which, as I mentioned, is bottled and sold throughout Georgia as a refreshing drink and a cure-all, provided the boys with the hope to use the tent they'd been lugging throughout Europe. The first morning we were there, we packed up and went to the "park," which surprisingly to me, was not a natural park but more of an amusement park with several springs throughout where you could sample the famous waters. We were gathered there, some of us with huge packs full of camping equipment, surrounded by children riding bumper cars and other rides. (Okay, that's not to say we didn't also partake in the bumper cars and that boat ride that swings you horizontally.) After a couple slow hours there, I was feeling like Borjomi may kind of be a bust, we finally reached the end of the park, and the paved path turned to dirt and continued into the woods... so we went.

The path wound through the woods and along the river that flows through Borjomi, crossing it on rickety bridges several times. Outside Tbilisi, everything in Georgia is really lush and green, and the with the river, made for a beautiful hike. After a mile or 2, we came upon a pool fed by either river or spring water where a lot of children were playing. We made plans to revisit the spot and then found where a smaller path led up a very steep hill for about a half a mile until we reached a grassy ridge surrounded by huge evergreens where we decided to set up the tent.

After that we still had several hours of daylight left, and we wanted to hike some more. Climbing a little higher, within 5 minutes, we came upon a little town-- so after an hour or more hike, we find out that we are actually extremely close to a road. We took the opportunity to get some food and supplies, as the only thing the campers had been very conscientious about buying was vodka, plus some cookies.

This town was one of the most pristine, idyllic rural towns I have ever seen. Houses lined the single road, and behind them the fields of crops, all enclosed in a valley by huge green mountains. There were all manner of livestock running around in the streets- cows, pigs, goats, chickens- as if either they were all communal property or they would know how to return home at the end of the day. Instead of returning to the woods to hike, we were so charmed by the town that we wandered, visited the small old, church, and enjoyed the cozy feel of the place.

On our way out, though, we passed a yard where 5 men were sitting at a table having some food and talking. We heard our favorite word, "gamarjos!"(cheers if you don't remember) and responded merrily "gamarjos!"-- which, apparently, made us immediately a part of the supra. (See left the scene we came upon. Notice the huge container of wine on the ground, which was only about 1/3 full when we left.) The guys insisted we come over and they poured us each a glass of wine. We introduced ourselves and within minutes the toasts started. They acted like we weren't strangers at all. They toasted to how touched and happy they were that we had come to visit! That we must come back! That it was an honor we had decided to say hello! And all this time they were thanking us, they were feeding us their food and wine, which they had prepared for 5 and now shared with 8 more people. Poor Salome spent the whole time translating for the men. One of the men was very taken with Rachel and me, repeating over and over that I was like a daughter to him, but as he was looking for a wife for his son, he would like Rachel to be his daugther in law, and that she must come back and meet his son and bring her whole family and all her relatives too. I don't know if the guys were drunk before we came, but they certainly were by the time we left, as were some of us. They never let a glass stay empty, and one of the men looked at me and said, "Daughter, you must drain your glass every time."

And the food! It was mostly traditional food that we had had before- bread, cheese, tomato and cucmber salad, some eggs and sausage- but the thing was that it was all made right there, in the home of the guy whose yard we were in, including the wine. I told him I loved the cheese (which was delicious), and he said, oh, my wife made it. The vegetables, cheese, eggs, everything had been produced by the man who was serving it. Amazing. The wine definitely had a farm-like taste, kind of like it had been made in the barn with the cows, but still, the freshness of it made it wonderful to drink. Making it even more charming, there was a little calf wandering and frolicking around the yard as if it were the family dog. We had to tear ourselves away as it started to get dark, but we walked back to the campsite in a wonderful mood.

<-- I loved this Soviet-era bulldozer.

We went back and Julian and Scott made a fire, where we sat for a few hours, and after it got dark, we made treacherous walk down the very steep hill to the spring-fed pool and did a little night swimming. Irina and Giorgi (driver), who had abandoned the hike, drove the car to the village and joined us around the campfire for awhile, bringing lots more food and drinks, and after people got sleepy, me, Rob, Giorgi and Irina abandoned the campsite to sleep in the guest house. (I know, kind of lame, but I thought that if I had a night of 2 hours' sleep I might not make it.)

The next day, and the campers were still on top of the mountain, I went to a very popular Borjomi spring to get, from its source, the waters that are supposed to cure hangover (which, after our little supra, I needed). The water is an acquired taste I think. Before it even gets to your mouth, you smell the sulfur, and it has a very strong minerally taste. Straight from a cold spring, it is pretty refreshing if you can stand the smell, but warm it is atrocious.

There are so many more details I could add, but for now I guess I should do some work. Hope you all are well.