March 15th

So I had planned on making the four hour trip (one way) to Batumi (on the Black Sea) last weekend, expressly to get out of the snow.  Upon arriving at the half way point in Kutaisi however, I found out that it was snowing in Batumi as well.  Five years ago such an occurence in this semi-tropical part of Georgia was generally unheard of, but then again people in Khashuri aren't really used to snow storms in the middle of March either...damn you climate change. Anyhow, I met up with a friends, and having decided that the trip would be somewhat wasted on such junk weather, we opted to stay in Kutaisi, and take in some of the sites there instead.  Suffice to say, we were hugely unsuccessly, but of course, I will elaborate.

To begin, the weather, unsurprisingly, was terrible. The first thing we found out upon visiting the tourism information centre was about Kutaisi's main attraction, the super impressive Sataplia cave system with translucent stalactites, staligmites and rock curtains, and over 200 fossilized dinosaur footprints. It was closed.  Is closed until April.  But not to worry! There are other things to do around Kutaisi! The Gelati monestary, only 10 km, or a short marshrutka (mini bus) ride from the city centre, we were told was a very much worth a visit.  With not enough daylight left howeve, and with hopes of better weather on the morrow, we decided we would visit it the following day.

So after narrowly missing the 11 am marshrutka (mini bus) Saturday morning we spent the interim 3 hours til the next one huddled next to an electric heater in a cafe watching as near white out conditions dumped a fresh foot of snow outside.  We then proceeded to miss the 2 pm marshrutka, although we're still not sure how it happened, as we arrived 15 minutes early, and never actually saw it leave (maybe the driver decided it was better not to attempt the assent in such miserable conditions).  So we gave up on that idea, and headed to the Pub (it's actually called Pub hence the capitalization), where we treated ourselves to quality European beer and martinies!

When we ventured back out 3 hours later, slightly hesitant to return to our guest house for fear of what we might be fed following the previous night's cultural cuisine experience, we were greated by a beautiful, foreign, shiny object in the sky. Uplifted by the fresh boost of vitamin D and the overalll change in atmospheric pressure, we took our time getting back to Suliko and Mediko's guest house (they are very sweet and most hospitable, it's just that, again, as is often the case in this country, you can never be quite sure what they are going to feed you), watching the sunset from the roof before going inside, savouring every last drop. I have yet to see it since. 

That night, dinner consisted of beans, cheese and cornbread (cornbread made especially for me), the customary cabbage salad (shredded cabbage and a few chunks of carrot soaked in vinegar), and some small crummy looking fish that I decided was best left alone. Altogether pretty good though.  The previous night's dinner however, was probably the worst thing I have ever tasted, and by probably, I mean it was most definitely the worst thing I have ever tasted. 

The starter was soup with fat and bits of some kind of beef...I think.  Actually not at all bad, a bit oily, but my digestive system is learning to deal with that. When there was nothing but chunks of fat left in my bowl however, Mediko insisted that "that tastes really good with this sauce" (in much more broken English of course).  So fat with an exceptionally tart liquified version of a substance not unlike cranberry sauce....it really doesn't taste that goood. Having gotten off with just a small bite though before she cleared our bowls away, I was assumed I had the worst out of the way. I was wrong, very wrong.

After taking away our not quite empty bowls, she insisted she had something more for us. Something that, in lieu of a language barrier, was described by pointing to knuckles, elbows and knees...joints. Cartlidge soup is a powerful, nauseating assault on the senses.  I have smelled a lot of menure in my lifetime, but until last Saturday I had never tasted barnyard.  The brawth was at once greasy, milky and slightly thick, but thick in a way that makes you think 'that's not meant to be that consistency,' and the cartlidge, well yeah, it was cartlidge.  What more can I say? 

For the first time in my life I found myself utterly unable to consume. Actually I found myself in the bathroom for fear that I might vomit, leaving the social nicety of forcing oneself to eat and feign enjoyment of homecooked food up to my friend, who later confessed that he dumped most of his cartlidge bits into my bowl when no one was around to see.