Borjomi

Borjomi

Borjomi

            On Monday, 12.09.2011, I realized that my school position started that Thursday.  So I looked at a map and the destinations that I wanted to visit.  There wasn’t enough time to notify my friends in Armenia about a potential visit, so that was out of the question.  I still haven’t begun the process for my Azeri Visa so naturally my Ganja-Baku-Oil Rocks trip would have to wait.  Akhalaksike was a place that had always struck my interest.  Akhalaksikhe, at the beginning of the 20^th Century and for much of the end of the 19^th Century was constantly volleyed for by the Ottoman Empire and the soon to be defunct Tsarist Russia.  It was taken by Tsarist Russia around 1828 (think the Turko-Russo War). If memory serves me correct its final boundaries were settled shortly after Georgia was absorbed by the Soviet Union in the early 1920s with the treaty of Kars.  Ere, Georgia had gained its independence around 1917 at a choatic time in history and the Ottomans were quite strong while the newly formed Georgia had practically nothing and the Ottomans constantly apply pressure on Georgia for pieces of its territory. 

            I looked closely at Akhalaksikhe on the map and noticed that it rested maybe 1 hour or 2 hours away from Borjomi, which was someplace that I knew little of other than being a resort and having mineral water.  So the plan was concocted and set:  First I would go to Borjomi and the next day on to Akhalaksikhe.  But there was one major problem, while Borjomi has been routinely explored and documented and thus online I was able to find at least one reputable home stay but Akhalaksikhe has nothing online.  Nothing.  Nichevo.  Vochmiban.  Normally this wouldn’t bother me but I had no idea as to what the city looked like and it wasn’t known to be one that is at all touristy or on the path to any place in particular.  Therefore the odds of finding a hotel, yet alone one that carries a decent price, seemed dubious at best.

            Also, so far, maps of any city, are practically non existent and as I’ve stated many times ere, the internet here is far from the greatest.  Its simply basic and even that is a gross overstatement.  Therefore I really lacked the information to be in Akhalaksikhe.  I’ll get there another day.  But for the moment I had gotten in contact with a few other volunteers of various backgrounds, who were holidaying in Batumi.  I had been to Batumi before and going there again, especially with a bunch of people, didn’t strike my fancy. 

            Regardless Monday morning I got up at six and caught an mshtrutka heading to Tbilisi.  The music that was played was completely cacophonic.  American folk, Georgian rap (which is simply hysterical), Russian pop and Phil Collins was our soundtrack as we dodged and passed a variety of cars, all of them doubtfully road worthy on our way into Tbilisi.  The mshtrutka dropped me off in the middle of a bunch of others mshtrutkas heading in different directions.  Taxi drivers would proudly stand in front of their chariots shouting out the names of places hoping to trigger a reaction in the cold, stone faces of people.  “Vladikavkaz, Batumi, Gori, Kazbeg!” 

            “Vladikavkaz,” I asked myself.  Vladikavkaz is the capital of North Ossetia, one of the many autonomous republics in the North Caucasus which finds itself behind the Russian border.  Its name literally translates into “Conqueror of the Caucasus,” and when the Russians were making their inroads in the region this was their jumping off point.  North Ossetia made headlines a few years ago when a bunch of Chechen insurgents or freedom fighters raided a public school in Beslan.  It ended as the worst hostage situation in history.  Hundreds of school children died and the entire episode was inappropriately handled.  Theories fly constantly and its aftermath leaves more questions unanswered than not.  So it’s filled with history and I thought that since the 2008 conflict was completely inaccessible, but this proved me wrong.

A Hot Dog Stand In Borjomi Park

            Regardless I hailed a cab to take me to Rustaveli.  I desperately wanted to go to Prospero’s Books, the only book store in the Republic of Georgia dedicated to expats and I needed to go to the Geocell office to buy an internet USB.  The driver charged me 7 lari, which was drastically overpriced (my ride from Urbnisi to Tbilisi itself was only 8 lari) but considering I was a foreigner, had no idea as to where in Tbilisi I was and I feel that I know the city fairly well I came to the conclusion that getting ripped off now and again wasn’t that big of a deal.  After all it was only $5.  I went and did what I needed to do and met up with a friend who was going to take my to the Didube Station, the biggest station which from there I could find a way to Borjomi.  We met and took another mshtrutka to Didube, which is exactly where I was before.  I passed the same taxi drivers and the same shouts of popular locations.  She helped me find my mshtrutka and arranged it so that it would drop me off at the info center.

            I got in the mshtrutka and apparently she had also arranged it so that I could sit up front, between the driver and his cohort.  I dozed into a sleep constantly afraid that if I moved wrong my knee would knock the gear shift out of the proper gear.  Along the way we dropped off a few people and picked up a few more.  By far the most interesting instance was when the driver took the keys out of the ignition, left the front cab and went to the back to take out some luggage.  He got back in and the mshtrutka and it wouldn’t start.  Immediately he popped the hood, said something the goon sitting next to me and grabbed a screw driver.  Within moments the mshtrutka started and three hours later, after ascending and descending several passes we entered Borjomi a small city situated in a valley completely surrounded by the mountains.

            The mshtrutka pulled over and the driver motioned for me to get out pointing across the street.  I took the hint and disembarked and went across to what was the information center.  The information center is a small room, in the middle of a small park, encased in logs and glass walls.  I entered and the guy behind the desk motioned for me to sit down.

The Entrance To Borjomi Park

            “I’m Arthur,” he said while pushing away a smoking ciggarette resting in a glass ashtray to his friend.  I introduced myself and we shook hands.  After twenty minutes of listening to Arthur I felt that I could skip the local museum of lore and that I wouldn’t need the hand drawn map that had been photocopied more times than the years that Borjomi has existed.  He instantly knew which homestay I had in mind and practically everything else.  To call him a tour guide would be an injustice.  He talked about Borjomi park where there were two fountains, one with warm water, which was better for you but after a few hours, perhaps one day, was rendered nonpotable.  The other fountain dispersed cold water which lasted longer but didn't carry all of the medical properties that the warm water did.  Then he mentioned a thermal sulfur bath, a cable car, hiking with guides, hiking without guides, the museum of local lore (it has 127 exhibits but only requires an hour).  I felt that if I asked him he could provide with the winning lottery numbers for the next two years.  On the photocopied hand drawn map he scribbled down his phone number, both for a phone with roaming coverage, local coverage and international coverage, in case I needed anything.  I told him others would be coming soon.

The First Cafe

     I left Arthur and went across the main bridge connecting the commerical district of Borjomi to the residential.  There I passed a great deal of hotels, all of which may or may not have been abandoned.  Quite a few had advertisements in Hebrew.  I expected Armenian, Turkish, Russian, certainly Georgian and perhaps English but Hebrew for some reason caught me off guard.  Still walking along according to the map that Arthur may or may not have drawn years ago I passed a tall 2 or 3 story house which caught my attention.  I think it was slightly because it was painted in the brigthest shade of yellow imaginable and more so because its design resembled those of Northern Europe.  I had read somewhere that at some at point a Northern European architect visited Georgia and completed a series of houses, this must have been one of them.
    
     Still following the map I made a slight right and continued along what I thought had to be Shroma Street. After two blocks I stopped.  The road was beyond repair and in the middle of it was a pile of debris at least 1 meter high. Either a stunted barricade or improvised speed bump I stepped around it and approached someone who was just standing around.  He didn't know where the guest house was and took me to his friend who guided me the extra 10 meters there.    Marina, an slightly elderly woman, spoke only English and Russian and using the later she showed me my room, inquired as to how many would be joining me and we settled on the price of 20 GEL/Lari, or roughly 10 USD. 

           

           Thirty minutes later I received a phone call from the other volunteers, they had just arrived.  I told them to visit Arthur.  40 minutes later the phone downstairs rang, and that was Arthur calling to ask Marina if she had room for four more.  She did and they came to visit.  Naturally they got lost on the way and I went and found them.  Our room consisted of five beds, one being a double.  A huge carpet hung against the wall and we had a small balcony.  The bathroom had a western toilet which was more of a problem to use than my Turkish one back in Urbnisi.  The seat wasn’t really attached, sometimes it had water to flush, many times it didn’t. 

The Sulfur Bath

            Once everyone got settled in we went to a café, compared recent adventures, living conditions, etc.  Then we headed towards the Borjomi park.  As we got closer to the park I was reminded of Parnu, Estonia.  With every step a new vendor came to sight offering variations of wine both in the fashion of varietals and sizes.  Some had towels, others different breads, pictures, empty plastic carboys, beer and oddly enough hot dogs.  After passing through the commotion we entered the square that was the entrance to Borjomi Park.  In front were iron gates and to the right swayed back and forth an old cable car. 

     We found the first fountain and the second never materialized.  There I filled up my water bottle from a faucet that emitted the tiniest stream possible of mineral water.  The water, everyone found repulsive and I found to be quite nice.  Naturally you had to get over the smell of rotten eggs and the metallic taste but whatever.  We then walked and walked across a series of bridges looking for the thermal sulfur bath.  We stopped and asked at least two people who confirmed that there was an indeed a thermal bath and that it was just a bit further.  Arthur said it was only a two kilometer walk and we had already surpassed that.  Some members began to doubt its existence and wanted to turn back.  The group became divided and we kept setting bench marks for when we would finally give up.  Finally we reached a bridge that looked as if a two year old's drawing had been mistaken for a blue print and materialized.  In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was. After crossing the thermal bath immediately became visilbe and we disrobed and entered the murky warm waters that defied every idea of personal hygiene.

The Bridge To The Sulfur Bath

            After a few hours we left and found some food at what I think is the worst restaurant I’ve been to in Georgia, but oh well, it was cheap.  The next day we left and I went back to Tbilisi, among the restless Didube Station to Gori and on to Urbnisi.  The ride back was interesting.  At one point we were behind an 18 wheeler, which was behind one also.  We both decided to pass at the same time, which involves entering the lane with the traffic coming from the opposing direction.  What we slowly began to realize, was that it was an entire parade of eighteen wheelers that we were passing and our view was blocked by the one that was leading us.  Suddenly it moved back into the proper lane, and we were faced playing a small game of chicken with a white Lada, hysterically flashing its lights.  We edged in slightly between the two 18 wheelers, so close that we really couldn’t see the road inbetween us.  We passed the Lada without incidence, for it had decided that rather than colliding with our mshtrutka that it would navigate the shoulder.  Then we edged out again and passed a few more.

A View Of Borjomi

            Borjomi is indeed worth the harrowing ride.  We had taken a cable car to the top of a mountain and were able to view the entirety of the city, which is utterly fantastic.  The view, even if seen for just 30 minutes more than compensates for the three hour journey from Tbilisi.  The only other attraction at the top of the mountain is a Ferris wheel.  I’m not sure why its there but I suppose that there are more pressing questions in life.  The only other things I wish I could have done would have been to visit one of the few monasteries that reside in the area and taken a mshtrutka to Vranzia, a nearby village(?) city(?) that boasts of having ancient buildings and monasteries and so forth.

  Here are a list of upcoming trips: 

September 23^rd-25^th:    Tbilisi with the Armenians and two Georgians.

October 13^th-17^th:  Tbilisi-Trabzon-Kars-Ani

October:  ? Kazbegi