Dedicated to Babe

I decided to start this blog as a way to record my musings and observations here in Georgia. It's just for fun really, don't expect any in depth posts about the history or recipes unless I feel peculiar that day because you can just Google it or ask a Georgian about the qvervi wine-making process or Shota Rustaveli's infatuation with King Tamar, they will be more than happy. If I know of other sites that relate then I'll do my best to link them.

So, some context... I've been hiding away in the depths of England for nineteen years of my life, a delicate equilibrium of Oxford English arrogance with some country-bumpkin Wiltshire roots.. I had itchy feet from about the age of 12 where I was ready to go and explore although it wasn't until I was 18 where I really had a taste of other cultures after touring Europe for a month with InterRail.

While I was living here I worked in Oxford alongside my studies which is where I first experienced a Kart. Shamefully, I hadn't even heard of Georgia when we started chatting on the bus which surprises me more and more that there's a huge region between Europe and Asia that just isn't mentioned in the UK. Not even when learning about Stalin in my GCSE history lessons. Anyway, the more we got to know each other in our relationship, the more I developed an idea about this mysterious Caucasian country. I've been fascinated by Eastern Europe since visiting Warsaw and Sofia, so I was keen to visit Georgia pretty much from the beginning where I was shown the Georgian alphabet and told about the impact of the Soviet Union.

I had some basic knowledge of Georgia by the time he finished his studies and flew back to Tbilisi, I could atleast say 'madloba' and 'gaumarjos' anyway. I moved to London a month later, wanting to explore and take in as much as I could before starting university in September. I was pretty much alone in London that month - exciting at first until you realise how expensive it is, and walking between Whitechapel and the Tower of London everyday soon loses it's novelty. So after five months of cold and dreary long-distance London, I visited Tbilisi over the Christmas holidays flying via Kiev.

This is a story for another time but I was intrigued by Kiev and wanted to visit so booked flights with a 20 hour connection only to spend this time sat in the airport being told by locals that it was too dangerous (the protests in Kiev were just kicking off, looking at the situation now it's for the best). In typical Georgian style we headed straight to a restaurant and shared khinkali and a colossal caeser salad, with chacha and wine to wash it down. This trip also featured a visit to Kakheti as my boyfriend's sister lives near Kvareli but again, for another time. Insert another four months of complaining about London and missing trees when I came back to Georgia for my 20th birthday. This time we visited his Russian Bebo in Chiatura and I was beginning to see Georgia as more than a tourist.

Now I'm back, a year after he left the UK, living here. Earlier than planned (which will officially be October time) due to some really heart-breaking news that I'd rather not expand on just yet, doing my best to learn Kartuli, cook some Georgian dishes and explore.

I woke up to the sound of the neighbour's pig being slaughtered this morning. It still makes me squirm since I'm not really a meat-eater anyway but it got me thinking about Georgian life and how I'm seeing it from a distorted point of view. I'm painfully British in my manners and habits but I've been welcomed into the midst of a wonderful Georgian family, doing my best to empathise and understand their traditions whilst seeing it all first hand for myself.

Photo taken from Mtatsminda