Georgian Chill: Too Hectic for Europe, Too Slack for Asia
I’m still learning not to freak out and chill
Looking for a place to slow down and chill? Let me recommend a secret country called Sakartvelo. This is what the people call their country. And now I do, too. Because if I call it Georgia, as all maps do, I get stuck in an endless loop:
“Where are you based?”
“Georgia. It’s in Europe.”
“Sure?”
“I’m 8 hours ahead of you, you’re calling me almost at midnight.”
“But you said you were in Georgia…”
Calling you at midnight is fairly common in Sakartvelo. At least, my 10-year-old neighbor believes so when he shouts something to his mother while standing right in front of my window.
“Dedaaaa!” He keeps shouting. ”Deda” means mom.
“Andreaaaaa.” Shouts to his friend to invite my neighbor to play outside, even though it is nearly midnight.
My neighbors make sure I am aware of their actions. All the Italian yards around Tbilisi, the capital, bring us all together. For good or whatever.
My elderly neighbors start tattling as soon as I walk out of my door. And I can barely say a word in Georgian to justify myself, as it is a unique language that sounds like nothing else. Or maybe like Elvish. At least it looks like it. I tried to learn the basics. Georgians, who are extremely generous people, went above and beyond to assist me. So now my vocabulary includes:
Gamarjoba — გამარჯობა — Hello
Lamazi gogo — ლამაზი გოგო — Pretty girl
Ar minda — არ მინდა — I don’t want
Bodishi, puli ar makvs — ბოდიში, ფული არ მაქვს — Sorry, no cash
Nakhvamdis — ნახვამდის — Goodbye
Georgian men like me for some reason, so Sakartvelo is one of those countries where I will never use Tinder. However, I will need a good doctor because people in Sakartvelo expect me to drink all the time. Wine and cha-cha, or local vodka, are part of a culture. As well as smoking. So I know exactly how to make new friends.
When I refused to drink at a bar once, one constantly smoking Georgian lady looked at me with disgust. Now I need to make sure I have a good relationship with my new landlords. Will my liver forgive me for this mischief?
Drinking with your landlord is like an initiation rite: it is the only way to become their friend; otherwise, they will not respect you. All of my friends have been there. Maybe it is a good reason not to change apartments too frequently.
I dared to change mine, as my Georgian chill has mostly occurred in the basement. According to locals, there were once stables, but now the basements serve as bars and apartments. I have been fortunate to have a window. It did not make much of a difference because my neighbors would always park on the sidewalk in front of my door. This traffic disaster also personifies the Georgian chill.
My road, my rules—this is the main rule. Mostly for cars. So pedestrians are forced to play this survival game, whether they are hit or not, whether they find a safe way to cross a road or simply run across an 8-lane highway. It is a very unusual experience, I must confess. I have learned to simply pull my hand out to stop traffic. Sakartvelo definitely turned me into a magician.
However, it is even more fascinating to be on the other side of traffic. Every taxi driver I have ever ridden with gives a cross sign whenever we pass a church. Because Sakartvelo is a deeply religious Orthodox country, most men and women are named after Christian saints. So imagine your driver barely steering the wheel because he is too busy making cross signs every three minutes because a church is every 1000 meters. I can tell you that you are turning into a believer or a magician.
If you dare to take a risk, now is the time to visit Sakartvelo. It is already warm and sunny, with beautiful nature and mountains. Most European nomads I have spoken with prefer Sakartvelo because there are no rules, you can stay for 355 days without a visa, and self-employment taxes are 1%.
Hope you are going to love it, too.
A couple of inspiring photos made by me:
Looking for quokkas on Rottnest Island:
My Bali adventures:
