12, Chardin Street

It turns out that Georgian wine fully lives up to its expectations. Last night I met with Khatuna and went out to a very nice Café-Restaurant in the old town. The area was filled with narrow pedestrian streets, and there was a young and hip crowd all around the place. Although it was dinner time, Khatuna decided we should just have wine, and she chose a dry white variety which was absolutely superb.

Khatuna seems to know a lot of people in Tbilisi. She obviously comes from a very privileged background. Despite the fact that she has lived in the US for 8 years, she seems very Georgian. She talked to me at great length about Georgian history, and there was an unrestrained pride in her voice whenever she mentioned her country. What is interesting is that she seems convinced that it was Georgians who invented wine. Judging after the quality of my drink, I would say that if they didn’t invent it, they did an extraordinarily good job at making it their own.

After having mentioned that I am interested in interviewing some people, Khatuna calls up ‘a relative’ who apparently knows a lot of people in Georgian politics. The guy shows up in no time – prosperous-looking, balding (seems to be a national trait here, yet somehow they all manage to make their dearth of hair look good) fifty year-old guy called Erekli. He made up his somewhat faltering English fluency with an open and friendly approach. I find he represents the Republican Party, one of the opposition groups in Georgia. For some reason, he starts trying to persuade me to meet with representatives from his party in order to get a critical view of the government’s policies. His insistent offers makes he wonder whether he thinks I am somehow connected to the Romanian government. I make it clear that I am just a student researching Georgia. He retorts by confidently expressing his certainty about me becoming a very important Romanian politician. Somehow I can’t help but doubt it, yet a combination of the wine and the heady rush I get from being in a new place makes the flattery reach its goal. Finally, Erekli and I resolve to meet again and, after exchanging phone numbers, he offers to take me on a trip to the old capital of Georgia. So far, so good.

The night ends with a scenic drive around the old part of Tbilisi. Situated on either side of the river, the area is filled with ancient-looking churches and traditional houses with perched out wood balconies. It is guarded from up on the hills by ancient walls and the imposing statue of the defender of the city (which somehow reminds me of the Christ statue in Rio, that of course I have never seen save for movies and photos). Finally I get dropped off at the flat, surprisingly sober after having drunk two bottles of wine on an empty stomach. I go to bed wondering how bad the hangover would be.