Trips with Rapsodia. Georgia on my mind #2
We said goodbye to Kutaisi in first part of my Georgian adventures, when I slipped on a wet surface and hardly managed to climb the third floor, where our hostel was located. It was Friday night and we had no possibility to go to a hospital, besides, I wasn’t dying ;) So, on the new day our 21-seat minibus with 23 people on board set towards Borjomi. We asked to be left in the hostel, while the rest of Rapsodia went to Vardzia, a rocky ancient city. We were there before and decided to spend some time in Borjomi instead.
Borjomi. Long-awaited Borjomi. How happy I was when we got there! First of all, I could lay down in a bed with aching leg, letting it rest. Then, having in mind, that famous Central Park is waiting for us (to say nothing about warm sulphur pools), we asked our landlady how far these miracles were, and after getting the answer: “It’s just behind the park, some 1,5 km from there” we went on foot intending to bathe our tired bodies. The Central Park was indeed nearby: located in narrow canyon, surrounded by rocky walls and numerous waterfalls, full of attractions for children, teenagers and normal people ;) The central part of the Central Park was occupied — of course — by the construction where famous Borjomi mineral water was distributed. For free. Have you ever checked how much is Borjomi water in your local shop? Please, do — it might be an interesting experience for you ;) On the other end of beautiful Central Park we expected a short path to sulphur pools. We saw the forest instead, and asked somebody where exactly were these pools. “Aaa, it’s only 3 km through this forest” said the Georgian man, and quickly added: “But maybe you want a taxi?”. Thanks to God! I would never get there with my leg, so we waited a bit and soon a dilapideted Toyota with young driver took us. Gosh, what a ride it was… I wasn’t prepared for a off-road driving, but that was exactly the thing. I became even more pale when I realized that the chain of small balls hanging on the windshield was a rosary. The driver touched it every single 30m — first I thought that he wanted just to immobilize this dancing string, but what he really did was praying. Now, imagine that he must have driven that way there and back again at least several times a day…
Sulphur pools didn’t dissapoint us and after a long, relaxing bath we called the same driver to pick us back to the park’s gate. Slow way through Central Park — and we already were back on the main Borjomi street very close to our hostel, that was both extra cheap and in grand location. It looked like the time stopped in 70's? Never mind! We ate some delicious Georgian food for dinner (no more chachapuri, please) and went to sleep, with no idea when our friends from Rapsodia would be back from Vardzia.
On the following day we made towards Tbilisi at last, rejoicing in approaching meeting with our close friends — wonderful Men’s Folk Choir “Mdzlevari”. So, after coming to our old Underground in Tbilisi at Tsinamghrdzishvili street and taking a short shower, we went with our friend Zurab, equipped with fresh meat for shashliks brought from a local butchers from Kachetia, to a meeting point somewhere out of the city.
Thou, who don’t know Georgian music, stop for a while and listen to some of “Mdzlevari” pieces on Youtube. You will understand then, why I felt in love with Georgia, a country, that I had absolutely no knowlegde about nor associations with, before I met these people, bringing their thrilling culture to the world.
Great evening ended quickly and Zurab, supported by our doctors (as I mentioned before, we had two great specialists on the board, however none of them was a traumatologist) ordered me to be prepared for tomorrow, for a visit in hospital. So, the following day we went to the clinic “only for diagnostics” — and it turned out that I have Achilles tendon broken in 70% and doctors strongly recommend to operate it at once. After a short consultation with my family and insurance company I decided to follow doctors’ advise, looked deeply in Zurab’s eyes and stayed in the hospital in a state of panic before the operation. “Don’t be worried, Georgian doctors have hands of gold” told me my friend Sasha by phone — and I had no other option as believing his words. “Please call me when they will get you” — asked Zurab while leaving me. The hospital staff prepared me for the operation and I was waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Nothing happened until late evening, when it turned out that they were waiting fot the payment of the operation in advance… My friend’s reaction on this information was immediate: he used his personal charm and some other hard arguments to the main surgeon and they took me for operating room in half an hour, just in time while my family and friends came to visit me.
Saying that the operation was pleasant would be a lie, however general conditions in the hospital were in high standard and doctors really had hands of gold. It was a group of young, nice doctors, supervised by an older one, who was the chief of the operation. They sewed me the Achilles tendon and after approximately 2h they were finished. I was happy with the care of elderly women after operation — they tried to encourage me and this was not an ordinary professional care — I felt that they were really with me, helping even by their presence. The only problem was that tall and strong Negro paramedic who was transporting me with his colleague (resembling Phil Collins very much) was off at night and Phil Collins had to move me back to the room, and he was too weak to do it, even with help of these nice women I mentioned before. So, they laid me somehow on the bed (remember, that I was anesthetized from the waist down) and went away.
Three o’clock in the morning. I can’t sleep because wrong position of the spine and because of pain after the operation, so I get out my phone (fortunately, with internet access), and I see that Christina, my Armenian friend is online. I knew she had to come from Yerevan to Tbilisi to meet us, and she had just arrived to the Underground, where we usually live in Tbilisi. We had a short talk, and then I again thanked God for my wonderful friends who supported me all the time, either in real or online…
On the next day I was supposed to go home. My Tbilisi home of course ;) In the meantime I was visited by my husband and daughter (she hates hospitals, so I appreciated her coming twice!), and by “tous le monde” in persons of Zurab, Natalia and Christina, and then Sasha. There is a picture from there, on which our four is photographied: a Georgian, a Moldovan, an Armenian and me — a Pole. I would never predicted such circumstances for meeting, even if I tried hard ;)
Doctors said: six weeks in plaster, then rehabilitation. Oh, my God… Six weeks… I also got the receipt in Georgian with tons of medicaments and I was very proud to be able to read it by myself with a little help of Zurab in one sentence. You never know, when you will have to use your so-called useless skills…
I spent four days, that remained to the departure of our plane to Poland practically imprisoned at Sasha’s Underground. What a shame — I was in my favourite city and I couldn’t walk in its streets and admire all its great views and monuments, bazars and restaurants. Moreover — I couldn’t also return home on a Wizzair flight from Kutaisi, because I didn’t get a document “fit for fly” from the hospital, so my insurance company had to organise an alternative flight.
Rapsodia and Vadim’s family left us and went to Northern Osetia via Georgian War Road, leading through Stepancminda, the famous church in the mountains, and the well-known Kazbegi, through Vladykaukaz. People from Ardon, where a concert had to be held, were waiting for them. Although they were gone, we kept thinking about their further road. It had to be the most difficult part of the whole route. Do you remember — the beginning of it was in Bulgaria, then through Istambul, the whole Turkey along the Black Sea and some days in Georgia. They were supposed to go to Russia through Ardon in Osetia and then Piatigorsk and Mineralnye Vody (that were known as Tsar’s Resort in Stavropol’s Country), through Beslan, where an awful terroristic act in ground schooll had place several years ago, then through Rostov-na-Donu, through Ukrainian Charkiv, Zaporozhe and Odessa, and back to Chisinau in Moldova. It wasn’t our trip any more, so I’m returning to Tbilisi with the story.
On the day of our regular plane departure, I still had no detailed plan of returning home. My daughter and husband left me in the Underground, as they had to move to Kutaisi for a night flight. Sasha and his family were also out, Mdzlevari flew to Russia for concerts, Rapsodia was in Osetia already, Giorgi was in Armenia, Nana was in Kobuleti and I was completely alone in the old, big tenement house from the 18th century, with a leg in plaster, equipped only with a phone with internet, waiting for instructions from the insurance company, that contacted me through email (calling them was hopeless, because they put 1'14 long sound statement about General Data Protecion Regulation, and it costed me approximately 4 dollars to listen to it every time I had to call them…). In the meantime I watched old Soviet comedy “Briliant Hand”, because I wanted to know why Sasha and others are laughing at me, that I had “brilliand leg”, starved a little bit (I couldn’t go to the kitchen — the way there was too difficult for me) and finally my trip home started with coming of the ambulance.
Did I mention that I was ordered to accept injections with antibiotics? Until now it has been done by Christina (this brave girl can do nearly everything), Vadim and my personal husband, who took extra short training from Vadim and Christina how to do it. But now all of them were gone and I had to rely of an insurance company, that, I must admit, did its best! So, nice nurse made an injection and helped me go out from the Underground: crossing five steep stairs upwards with one leg was really extremely difficult. The ambulance took me to some hotel in Saburtalo quarter — I was lying down on the stretcher while the gentlemen rode with me into the room.
After some hours I had to wake up for a flight to Munich. “Please call 1414 when you are ready” — said a man in hotel — “I will come and help you get your rucksack”. At 2:15 AM I realised that the telephone in my room doesn’t work. So, I put the rucksack on my spine and left the room on my war-like crutches, searching for an lift. Now, imagine a row of identical doors in every direction, in the middle of the night. Where the hell could be the lift? Oh, there it is — I spotted it, with no idea on which floor I am. I crossed two steps leading to the lift, entered inside, and I see — there is only 13, 14 and 16 written on buttons. WTF? I decided to press 16. The lift went up. 13. The lift went down, to the floor I was before. Bad thing. This lift will not bring me to the exit. So, I had to choose the possible direction where could be another lift. After covering back two steps from the lift and a long corridor I was already exhausted. Suddenly I found a phone somewhere in the corridor: “Please, help me” — I called the 1414 at last… As you see, sometimes even going out the hotel could be a problem.
The taxi driver was waiting for me already — we discussed some sad issues, e.g. about “crawling border” in the area of Southern part of Georgia during a ride to the airport. Then he picked me up straight to checking gate at the airport, where I was seated to the wheelchair, given boarding passes with no queuing in the line of passengers and driven to the business class lounge, for the first time in my life ;) I dont have any experience with business class worldwide, but I mus say this one was rather like an art gallery and I couldn’t take my eyes off the paintings exhibited on every wall. When the time has come, the steward drove me directly to the plane, where I had three places in business class, in order to keep my leg horizontally. Thank you, dear insurance company, that was really nice of you…
The remaining part of the journey was a festival of means of transportation. From the plane I was brought in a wheelchair by a special bus to a place where I could wait for the flight to Katowice. I started to be a little bit upset where the time has come to check-in and there were no people who had to bring me to a plane. The lounge staff organised the transport on they own: I was invited to a battery trolley, used to drive through the halls of the airport. After covering some hundred meters, the lady driver went back because she got the message that the wheelchair is waiting for me. Two men took me there, and drove again to the other end of the airport, where my plane was standing. Small one. Thus, an elevator took me from the bus and picked me up high, directly to a plane’s entrance… The way back in Katowice was not so automated — because of lack of elevator, I made it on my bottom, but the old good Newton was helping me ;)
The last part of this jouney however was the most exciting one… As you already know, my husband was already at home, after night flight, and the insurance company had to arrange a ride home from the airport. The driver at the airport found me after some time, and I had to move to the vehicle that was standing at the parking. It turned out, that it was… a car tow truck! I have no idea why they though it might be necessary to transport me with this vehicle, but believe me, entering the cabin was one of the most difficult parts of the whole operation, despite the help of the driver…
Tired, but happy I got home at last. Planning to recover quickly and continuing trips with my family and friends. Rapsodia finished its trip also very tired — they came across unpredicted difficulties and got home really with help of God and good people. Sometimes I have doubts, if things we do are important to anybody else but ourselves, but even if it is so, it’s a reason good enough to keep it up…
First part of my Georgian adventures is available here.