July 8 - Catching Up

July 8, 2004 - Sorry I haven't been a good
correspondent. Most places we visited did
not have internet available and, to tell
the truth, the time has been very full. I
think I last wrote after our concert in
Kobuleti, Adjara.

After Kobuleti, Poti and Kutaisi, we went
to Lower Svaneti, to the town of Lentekhi,
which is at the confluence of three tributaries
flowing together to form a fourth fast-flowing
river. On the way there, we were escorted by
a police car as we entered one region and, at
the border with the next region, another
police car picked us up and led the way -
apparently, this was to discourage bandits,
but, of course, since nothing untoward happened,
it's hard to say whether this was necessary.

Along the way, the bus did have a breakdown -
one of the most enjoyable breakdowns I have
ever encountered. We stopped on the road, in
the narrow valley of a river that was dark
grey with the particular silt in this region.
Everyone piled out and threw frisbee, or read,
or played "take-two" - a game played with
scrabble tiles that has become a passion since
Irene (one of the other "adults" on the tour)
introduced it a few days ago - in the dirt by
the side of the road or just walked down by the
river. There was a short lane down to the
riverside, where there was a stoney arc of
nearly dry land that would be part of the river
when it is in full flood. Scattered around are
giant boulders that have fallen from the steep
slopes above - most of those slopes are covered
in dense deciduous vegetation, so we get only
glimpses of the rock outcroppings whence these
boulders have come. The scene is elemental - it
seems as though it has been this way forever.
You see a glade near the river and you can
easily imagine some mediaeval tale having run
its course on that very spot. This whole part
of the country has a kind of mythical atmosphere
about it.

We travelled further up the valley, through a
gap in the rising mountains, that opened out
into a wider, flatter valley, at the head of which
is Tsageri, a town where we would do a concert
two days later.

From Tsageri, we followed the road up through
another narrow gorge, this one steeper and
rockier, so the geology is much more apparent.
There are quite a few streams that cascade down
the canyon walls, sometimes bridging the road by
the aid of a short concrete aqueduct of sorts to
carry the stream over the road. There are
rock-falls everywhere and improbable outcroppings
that seem as though they are ready to fall at any
minute, but have probably been there for centuries.
We still see some corn planted on occasional
relatively flat outcroppings partway up the canyon
walls - lots of pigs and a few cows where there is
room for a house. We reach Lentekhi in the evening,
quite late due to the breakdown and are parcelled
off to our various hosts. Most of us are staying
in the town, which is at the bottom of the valley.
Four of us (Carl, Peter, Jake and I) are staying
at a house that is up on the slopes of the valley
over-looking the town. A very rough-looking
gentleman tosses our bags into the back of a
relatively new-looking Kia Sportage and we have
a jostling ride up a steep road in which it is
impossible to distinguish potholes, because there
is nothing resembling pavement - there are very
large rocks in the road that we just ride right
over, without slowing (which I am sure is the only
way to get up the hill). The driver curses at the
pigs in the road and at the boy who was herding a
couple of cows down the road (we assume he was
cursing, because Carl, who is extremely fluent
in Georgian, can hardly understand a word that
the driver says - this is Svaneti, after all).
We reach our destination at the end of an equally
rocky driveway, where a steel gate is opened and
we drive onto a rough lawn where the driver can
turn around. We learn with some relief that our
driver is not our host.

Our host, Temuri, is a very soft-spoken man who is
about my age and not greying very much yet. Pretty
early on, I asked him whether he is a singer, to which
he replied that, because there has been a recent death
in his family, he is not singing - it is customary to
stop singing for a period when there has been a death
in the family. It turns out in this case that a nephew,
in his teens, has been killed in a car accident of some
kind. It also turns out that, of Temuri's 11 siblings,
five have died - mostly from accidents. This is the
other side of this elemental landscape. He mentioned
that, in the winter of 1987, there was something like
10 metres of snow - you couldn't see the gate and it
didn't take much imagination to know that the road up
the valleyside would have been impassable. He said a
lot of people died that winter - either because they
couldn't get out, or because of avalanches.

On the other hand, this relatively old house has been
recently renovated so that it has what seems to be a
brand new bathroom, shower (with good hot water) and,
incredibly, a German washing machine. The tap water,
which comes from a spring up the mountainside, is
potable - in fact, very tasty and slightly carbonated.
Oh, and the view from his porch is phenomenal - up
the valley, to the left, we can see snow-capped peaks
when it is clear; across the valley, the slopes are
dotted with houses perched, like this one, on a flat
part of the valleyside among the trees. There seem to
be lots of walnut trees and fruit trees in the area,
yielding both fruit and building materials. This house,
where we stayed for two nights, was built in the 40s
of hand-hewn timbers.

There was wine and at least a few toasts at each meal
with Temuri. His wife, Manana, never ate with us, nor
did his daughter, Maryam, though they were sometimes
in the room. Temuri made most of the toasts and, with
Carl's able translations, we felt that we learned a
lot about Temuri's character from his toasts. It's
hard to give an example of why, but Temuri's toasts
had a slightly different flavour from those that we
had become used to hearing (although I don't remember
ever hearing any toast from anyone that I would
characterize as a "stock" toast with formula words) -
he seemed to use different vocabulary and focus on
different aspects of the toasts to peace, to those
who have died, to our parents, to the younger
generation, to women, to mothers, to safe travels.

We had a concert the next day in the town, but most
of the day free. In the morning, Temuri took us to
a place that he says has the best view in town, just
a ten minute hike from his house. Carl and Peter and
I went up there with him and the ten-year-old Maryam
(who continues to be very shy with us) - he was
right about the view - we can see snow-capped peaks
in three directions and look down where the three rivers
meet to tumble down the canyon toward Tsageri. Later
in the day, a bunch of us met and hiked up to a church
that is fairly near Temuri's house (but not directly
accessible from there - you have to go down into town
and go up a different road) and, near the top of a hill,
another church that we thought would be a good
destination. We all made it to the first church, but
(with time pressure to be back in time to prepare for
our concert)only about half decided to continue up to
the church at the top of the hill - and, in the heat
and humidity, only four, I believe, made it to  the
second church. Those of us who had decided to head down
were treated to an impromptu tea/coffee party at the
house of a woman who lived near the first church -
we enjoyed sweet cherries and even sweeter (liberally
sugared) strawberries, followed by chocolates - there
was no toasting or wine, thankfully, but good fellowship.

The concert that evening in Lentekhi was awesome. The
Svans (even in lower Svaneti) are known as hardy people
(surprise! surprise!) and the Svan style of singing is
sometimes characterized as being loud, louder and
loudest - let's say that the singing is as elemental
as the countryside - but one of the great things is
that the choir danced. Interspersed with the choir were
pure dance numbers. It seemed that every kid in town
must have taken part the dance part of the show -
scads of young boys who can dance on the knuckles of
their toes and young girls who can float across the
stage with queenly aloofness.

The supra afterward was a pretty raucous affair, of
course, with the "tamada" often heard only by those
sitting nearest him; lots of wine and chacha (spirits
of various kinds); and lots of loud singing and lively
dancing. On the other hand, the bad news, as I learned
later, is that at least one of the men actually made
overt sexual advances toward some of our girls.

The next morning, we left for the drive back down the
river to Tsageri. It had poured rain overnight (with
some pretty spectacular thunder and lightning) and
was still raining in the morning when we received word
that one spot in the road down from our house had been
washed out in the downpour, was not passable by car.
Temuri loaded our bags into his car and he drove
(actually, partly drove and partly coasted and partly
was pushed) down the road to a place just above the
washout (which was quite spectacular, by the way),
while we walked down, so we only had to carry our bags
partway. The driver from the first night and a
neighboring boy helped us with our bags, so we didn't
even have to carry everything. Temuri's wife, Manana,
and Maryam accompanied us in the rain, which had begun
to let up by then.

So, these are some of my impressions of Lentekhi in
Lower Svaneti - it's hard to believe that it was only
a week and half ago. And I can say that each place
we visited was just as interesting in its own way.

June 25 - So Much to Tell

Friday, June 25, 2004 - It's incredible
how much we have experienced in the last
few days. It's difficult to think where
to start - swimming in the Black Sea?
singing with Vazha Gogoladze and two of
his friends? singing in the trio for
Khasanbegura, alternating with the
soloists from the Adjaran Ensemble?
Wonderful Adjaran dance perfomances?
our brief stop this morning to take
pictures of the infamous bridge at the
Adjaran border (the one that had been
blown up by Abashidze's people to prevent
the Georgian military from crossing into
Adjara)?

We have now sung four concerts, each
with participation of some Georgian
singers. The best for me so far has
been our evening in Kobuleti. [When
Darbazi was in Tbilisi in October 2002,
we met an Adjaran Choir while we were
awaiting our turn to sing in the Final
Gala Concert of the Symposium. While
waiting, we sang a few songs with them,
including their version of the Svanuri
perkhuli, a song that Darbazi used to do.]
When Village Harmony arrived at the venue
in Kobuleti (just the day before yesterday,
it's hard to believe), I recognized the
concert garb of our Adjaran friends and,
to my everlasting delight, one of the
singers recognized me immediately. It was
wonderful to renew our acquaintance, even
with his lmited English and my much more
limited Georgian. I got their performance
on videotape, including an Adjaran dance
troupe who danced while the singers sang -
this put a real jolt into the singing, I
can tell you. After the concert, we were
taken up into the hills to a village where
we met a 91 year-old singer who used to
sing with Anzor Erkomaishvili's grandfather.

The Adjaran choir came for the supra, with
lots of toasts and lots of songs, including
the Svan perkhuli (yes, Sam, I got it on
video). I was privileged to sit with my
friend, Micha, among the Adjarans, rather
than with the Americans.

Partway through, the mayor of the town
arrived - a good-looking, very
professional-looking young man. The Adjaran
singers kept singing songs that I knew (from
Darbazi), including the Tushuri Satrpialo
that Bachi sings (Tsvimashi ga da nabadida...
- yes, Bachi, I got that one on tape, too).
It was incredible!!! And I got almost all of
it on tape.

Last night, we sang with a group from Poti -
we learned Chela on the fly, since we didn't
have any Megrelian songs in our repertoire.
Bie, who knows the song from singing it with
Okros Stumrebi, did the solo for the first
time ever - and she did a great job.

Changing things on the fly is characteristic
of this trip - the group is very flexible -
definitely one of the virtues of youth.

So, I have learned Khasanbegura from Tristan
Sikharulidze and I have been singing Sachidao
in our concerts (alternating verses with Carl);
I have yet to get every verse right - but now,
I usually get 7 out of the 8 verses that I do.
My filming technique is also getting better.
I now get about 90% of what I'm trying to
film - and I usually remember to turn on the
separate microphone that I've been using to
record the audio.

Georgia seems to be doing relatively well, from
what I can tell. The electricity is on most of
the time (although it did go off for a few
minutes during the concert in Kobuleti -
luckily for me, I had my flashlight in my pocket,
so was able to read the words - the others already
knew most of the words by memory - another virtue
of youth).

In Kobuleti, we stayed in a guest house that
seems to have 24 hour per day hot water - and
lots of it - a real luxury. The roads out here
in the west need a lot of work, but it's
underway.

There has been a lot of rain before we arrived
and some while we've been here, so everything is
very lush. It's very hot and muggy today.
(People are waiting - we're in an internet cafe
in Kutaisi - so I'm done.)

June 18 - First message

June 18, 2004 - Georgia has been great so far. Better
than I had hoped. Great bunch of kids and musicians.
Perfect weather, lots of good music to learn. Blackberry
doesn't work either for phone or e-mail.

Food is wonderful, well water is drinkable, more exercise
than usual. I'll try to write more later - right now,
people are waiting (internet cafe in Ozurgeti), so I'll
have to sign off

June 10 - Heading off tomorrow

June 10, 2004 - For those of you who may not know,
I head off for Tbilisi, Georgia on Friday. The
weather should be hot,but the main attraction will,
of course, be meeting the people - even more than
singing and hearing the music, if you can believe
it.

Georgians live to show their hospitality. I'll try
to learn the proper order of the toasts at the
supra, but I'm pretty sure the first one is "to
our meeting" - and a good beginning it will be.

I'll be writing whenever I have e-mail access,
which may be regularly, but quite likely not,
outside Tbilisi.

Nakhvamdis