Magical GA Holiday…redux?

January 21, 2011

…recovered from the messy hard drive, one last write up from GA. Unfortunately, the obnoxious border crossing, bar brawl (over a pug-in), and the details of pinching a shirt off a hippie male model, did not survive.


Woke up with the anticipation of happiness in near future. Found four 3ltr Beer bottles from last night, remembered clichéd bonding conversation #2, forgot topic of said conversation. Laughed about firemen. Realized we’d never seen AZ fireman, wondered if our regions even had fire stations, decided we didn’t care.

B left early for wild outer lands, wine, hiking, stunning photo ops. Started walk to metro with silly grin on face that may or may not have had to do with a discussion with A about the superior looks of GA men. Managed without fuss to find the vagzal (via metro) for our excursion to Uplstika. The Tbilisi Metro is one of the simplest/smallest metro systems in the world. Simplicity works to the advantage of those such as us, who speak only necessary Georgian -Hello, Goodbye, Thank you, Beer, Wine -and simply count stops-the two lines crossing once, to form an X.

Had usual haggling with taxi/bus drivers, found one monumentally board enough to transport us to The Cave City other wise known as: (Throughly unpronounceable) Rock hewn dwellings were stunning, living up to my grand descriptions from ’08. Scrambled over rocks, consumed bohemian picnic atop temple (dry red wine!),sat on 80 foot cliff edge, daydreamed about inhabiting cave house, (save on air conditioning bills), wove blood red wild poppies through hair. Meditated on highest rock point. Resulting copacetic feelings about life, future, self and the state of small helpless animals were delightful. Figured the 60’s hippies had it right. May have frolicked through wild flowers. Cute little birds probably sang. Driver acquiesced to snap our picture near a munching cow. We were likely dehydrated and drunk. Collectively announced he was the best driver ever and tipped accordingly at Rustiveli St.

Wine shop called, we answered, spent next hour engaged in wine tasting, eye candy, broken English flirting. Dangerous thoughts about the advantages of never returning to AZ danced in our brains. Home run was evident when handsome guy thought seriously for several minutes, announced “I like you!!!” in perfect English, followed by a 20 min lesson on how to say Georgian equivalent. Passable progress was made, wine consumed, carrying a bottle each we were caught up in the Peace Bridge crowd of revelers, swashbuckling pirates, living statues, and 15 year old girls drinking beer. Snapped appropriately dull and touristy photos of bridge + happily seething humanity. Noticed an inordinately high number of couples partaking of the national pastime of making out, resolved to participate before holiday ended. A encouraged this line of thought by demonstrations with C. Found this endlessly funny.

Wandered back to park, landed on bench, proceeded to sedate thrust, found group of weary Polish travelers fresh from ‘Alabama’, swapped stories, realized our common ground was a love of GA street life, but Polish were awkwardly silenced when learning of our extended stay in AZ. Awkward silence not being on our menu for the nights entertainment, we resolved matters by re-locating to a table at a safe distance. Thankfully the ineloquent eastern Europeans quickly/awkwardly vacated park. 5 min later we forgot them, held court with a pair of drunk art students, snapped the required photos, answered questions about art politics, asked questions about art, politics. Found the couple charming, but agreed she could do much better.

Discovered group of mostly good looking males way under 30, used the fail safe grade school technique of throwing peanuts to attract attention, shared libations, slang, scandalous looks, other, and wine induced language lessons covering essential phrases such as: ‘You are beautiful’, ‘I like wine’, and ‘My Name is:’. Fearful of cradle robbing, we vacated park in the wee hours, hastily scrawled numbers, with hearts/X’s in our hands-received merciless teasing from A/C since my paper said ‘Bear’-taxi ride home induced realization that holidays had reduced us all to walking piles of hormones-or maybe it was the wine?


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