Showing posts with label Silk Road-Caucasus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Silk Road-Caucasus. Show all posts

Wednesday 20 August 2014

Uplistsikhe and Gori, Cave Dwellings and Stalin: Part 10 of From the Caspian to the Black Sea

A Cave System Still in Use in the Middle Ages and the Birthplace of Josef Stalin


Georgia
In the morning we retraced our steps southwards down the Aragvi Valley. We were leaving the mountains, but only temporarily - in two days’ time we would return - but on the other side of South Ossetia. We were going round this mountainous and sparsely populated region partly because there are no good roads across it, but more importantly because it is no longer de facto part of Georgia. Prompted by Russia, it seceded in 1990 and now considers itself an independent country.

Our Journey so far

Uplistsikhe, City of Caves

Reaching the southern end of South Ossetia we turned west, followed the valley of the River Mtkvari and soon reached Uplistsikhe. On a rocky bluff across the river from the rather down-at-heal modern village is an ancient cave city.

Uplistsikhe across the Tiver Mtkvari

Established in the sixth century BC Uplistsikhe became the major pre-Christian religious centre of Kartli (Eastern Georgia), but lost importance when Christianity arrived in the 4th century. When Tbilisi was taken by the Arabs in 645 and became the capital of an Islamic Caliphate, Uplistkhe returned to prominence as the stronghold of the Christian kings of Kartli.

Uplistsikhe

At its peak the cave city had a population of 20,000 but after King David the Builder took Tbilisi and united most of Georgia under a Christian monarchy it went into decline. The end came when Timur (Tamburlaine) and his Mongol hordes paid a visit in the fourteenth century.

Wildlife, Uplistsikhe

The dwellings, palaces and temples were deserted and over the centuries seismic activity caused many of the roofs to fall in and the walls to crumble. When archaeologists arrived in the 1950s only the tops of a few caves were visible among the rubble.

Uplistsikhe

As we clambered over the rocks and visited the various caves labelled as halls, palaces or temples I found myself struggling to recreate the city in my mind's eye. The labels all seemed quite definite, though they are of course speculative. Evidence exists to suggest certain caves were temples or palaces, there are marks of burning on the roofs to show where hearths once were, and in some halls it was clear that the stone roof had been carefully decorated....

A temple (possibly) with a decorated roof, Uplistsikhe

...or laboriously carved and polished to look like wooden beams.

Hall with stone roof carved to look like beams, Uplistsikhe

The Blackberry Hall was well enough named, a large bramble hung from the remains of the roof, but the ‘Apothecary' seems a stab in the dark.

Apothecary, Uplistsikhe

The most modern building, indeed the only real ‘building,’ is the tenth century Prince's Church which was built over an earlier pagan religious site at the highest point of the city.

The Prince's Church, Uplistsike

We finished by descending a tunnel that took us from the defensive heights down to the riverside. It was unlit though easy enough to descend by the modern stairs; how the original inhabitants coped I have no idea.

Tunnel down to the riverside, Uplistsikhe

Back at the entrance we had a look round the museum, which we would have done first had it not opened late. A brief film showed how the city might have been, but despite the computer graphics the place stubbornly refused to come alive for me. Lynne did not have this problem, so it must be my failure of imagination.

Uplistsikhe overlooks the Mtkvari River and much arid countryside

From Uplistsikhe we drove 10km to Gori, the birthplace and childhood home of Josef Stalin. Our route almost touched the South Ossetian border and we could see the hills, fields and Russian communication systems of this make-believe country.

The South Ossetia Problem

Beyond the Caucasus, North Ossetia had been part of the Russian Federation since 1806. There were a few Osset settlements south of the mountains in the 17th century, but many South Ossetians migrated from the north during the 19th and 20th centuries. According to Dinara they were well integrated into Georgian society and several generations of intermarriage had weakened the Osset identity. The Georgian view is that the Russians stirred up their dormant nationalism and then used that as an excuse to move in 'to protect the Ossets from Georgian oppression.' They did the same in Abkhazia, Georgia's northwest province along the Black Sea. It is the same tactic, Dinara observed, that Vladimir Putin has recently used in Crimea and eastern Ukraine, and indeed that Hitler used to annex the Sudetenland in 1938.

Map of Georgia showing South Ossetia and Abkhazia

In 2008 Georgia started a misguided war to get South Ossetia back; a Russian-Georgian war could only ever have one winner. Gori was shelled, cluster bombs were dropped (the Russians deny this but unexploded bomblets are still regularly found)* and it was occupied for ten days. As a teenager Dinara had travelled from the Black Sea coast to be with her family in Tbilisi and had seen Gori burning as she passed on the main road.

Lynne and I were born in 1950 and like most of our generation were brought up by parents who talked (sometimes incessantly) about their wartime experiences, but we have been blessed by having no direct experience of warfare. Dinara told us calmly about what she had seen and although she did not believe she had been in any imminent danger, it was unnerving to hear experiences of a war that was so recent and from one who was still so young.

The population of South Ossetia, 100,000 in 1989, has halved and left Georgia with a refugee problem - added to by similar events in Abkazia. The road into Gori was lined with houses reminiscent of our post-war prefabs which I remember surviving into the seventies and even eighties. These were the dwellings of Ossetian refugees.

Refugees' houses, Gori

Gori, Stalin's Birthplace

Gori

Our first brush with Gori was brief – we no sooner arrived than we drove five kilometres out of town to Dinara's restaurant of choice. We sat in the shade in a large courtyard, watched fish swim round a pond and ordered a veal kebab. The spreads laid on when food is pre-ordered are memorable, but we had eaten two such feasts yesterday and were glad to be in control of the menu and able to order a light meal. Even the greatest trencherman needs an occasional rest and another feast was promised at our guesthouse that evening.

Back in Gori we drove past Stalin Square and down Stalin Avenue to the Stalin museum.

Central Gori - modern(ish) and a bit dull

Stalin is a problematic figure to the whole of the former Soviet Union, not just Georgia. Born Josif Dzhugashvili in 1878, the son of a Gori cobbler, he ruled the world's largest country for a quarter of a century, turning the USSR from a rural backwater into an economic powerhouse - as Churchill said 'taking it with the plough and leaving it with nuclear weapons'. Even those of us who prefer the idea of beating swords into plough shares have to acknowledge that under his leadership the Soviet Union played arguably the most important role in the defeat of fascism (though they had that role forced upon them when Hitler’s invasion unilaterally brought the Molotov-Ribentrop non-aggression pact to its end.)

And, of course, Stalin was a psychopathic mass murderer. He imprisoned his opponents, real and imaginary, in a vast archipelago of gulags and in Yekaterinburg we saw a mass grave of some 30,000 victims of Stalin's purges. 7 million more died in the 1932 Ukraine famine, for which he bears the main responsibility, and his secret police terrorised large parts of the population.

Lynne in Russia at the memorial to 30,000 murdered on Stalin's orders,
Yekaterinburg 2007

Although Khrushchev denounced Stalin and Stalinism in the 1950s it is not difficult to find devotees of Stalin among older people in Russia today. In Georgia the situation is even more complex. They resent the Russian denomination that Stalin and the Soviet Union brought, and most Georgians are only too aware of his faults, but still he was a native son of Georgia.

The last statue of Stalin in the whole of the former USSR stood outside the Gori museum and stayed there long after independence and long after Georgia had abandoned everything that Stalin stood for. It was removed in 2010, but even then the authorities thought it best to do the deed at night.

Stalin Museum, Gori

We were shown round the museum (along with a lone German student) by a woman in her late sixties - it is impossible to visit any museum in Georgia without being given a guided tour. She might (Dinara suggested) have been of Russian origin, but she was certainly an unreconstructed Stalin fan. It was a swift tour and she seemed to be reciting a script as we whizzed through Stalin's early life in Gori and later in Tbilisi where he trained for the priesthood but was expelled from the seminary for political activity.

And that was where the history stopped. We saw an exhibition of some of the gifts he received, shades of North Korea, some of them with less than compelling connections to the despot. A musician’s organisation presented him with an accordion but, as our guide told us, Stalin did not play the accordion so he passed it straight on to the museum where it is labelled 'Stalin's Accordion' though he may only have looked at it from a distance.

Lynne and Uncle Joe, at least we were not expected to bow!

She mentioned nothing that might bring discredit to the great man's name. We were not shown Lenin’s letter warning the politburo that after his death they should under no circumstances let this psychopath get his hands on the levers of power. Near the end there were some much more recent colour photos of destruction and rubble. ‘What is that?’ asked the German student. ‘2008,’ said the guide without elaborating and moving swiftly on. Dinara contained her amazement at the whole show, but did some serious head shaking later.

In the square opposite we saw the simple nineteenth century worker’s cottage where Stalin was born.

The house where Stalin was born, Gori

It stands alone, all the neighbouring properties, like most of Gori's buildings from that period, having been demolished as the town has modernised. It was reminiscent of Kim Il Sun's house, though without the parkland setting.

Inside the house where Stalin was born

Again like, Kim, we saw Stalin's private train,...

Lynne boards Stalin's private train, Gori

.....but unlike in North Korea we were able to get on it and walk the length of the carriage.

Stalin's private train, Gori

There was childish glee in the way Lynne photographed his private toilet.

Stalin's private bathroom on his private train, Gori

Honey Bread on the way to Kutaisi

Leaving Gori we drove on to Kutaisi, Georgia's second city. The drive was scary, the two lane road was busy and Alex's overtaking was aggressive to say the least. The big BMW had immense acceleration which he relied upon to keep out of trouble. Unfortunately other drivers seemed equally aggressive but few were as well equipped. Back in Azerbaijan our driver Togrul had merely raised his eyebrows when discussing Georgian driving standards. I was beginning to understand his meaning.

Honey bread on sale by the roadside, Kutaisi

Nearing Kutaisi the road was lined with stalls selling something we did not recognise. 'Honey bread,' Dinara told us. We stopped to look at one of the stall-holder’s ovens and bought a loaf. It was delicious.

Honey bread production near Kutaisi
Kutaisi

Kutaisi

Kutaisi does not present its best face to those arriving from the east. We entered the city through an area of post-industrial dereliction. We had seen the same in Armenia ten years earlier and for the same reason - the Soviet Union deliberately placed parts of complex industrial processes in outlying republics, but never the whole process, so at independence they found they had either lost their suppliers or their market.

We found our guesthouse in the old part of the city which sits on a hill, the large balcony giving a good view over the newer parts that have colonised the valley below. At dinner, as expected, every inch of the table was covered in goodies and despite serious work, ably assisted by Dinara and Alex, we were able to see off only a small proportion of what was on offer. We ate cucumber and tomato salad, rice and vegetables, aubergine purée with walnuts, mushrooms with dill, vegetable soup, chicken pieces, pork with a walnut and garlic sauce, homemade burgers and finally, watermelon. We also enjoyed a litre of 'homemade' white wine – as brown and oxidized as always.

Kutaisi

We shared the guesthouse with a group from Dragoman Travel whose leader gave them careful instructions for their arrival in Turkey the next day. I spoke to him the next morning, he had picked up what he called 'the truck' (and it was much more of a truck than a coach) in Malaysia and driven it to Beijing where the tour started. Some of his clients had travelled the whole length of the Silk Road with him and would stay until the end in Istanbul while others had joined for just a section of the journey.

*Appalling as this is, it is a drop in the ocean compared with the American cluster bombing of Laos in the 1960s and 70s which has left tens of millions of unexploded bomblets that are still killing peasant farmers (and their children) today. See Phonsavon, The Plain of Jars and Unexploded Ordnance.

Sunday 17 August 2014

Tbilisi: Part 7 of From the Caspian to the Black Sea

Mother Georgia

Georgia
Tbilisi

Looking from our bedroom window in the morning it was difficult to believe we were in a city. Behind us largely open ground rose to the heights of Narikala Fortress and alongside it the giant figure of Mother Georgia, described by the Lonely Planet as being 'as attractive as a 20m aluminium woman can be.'

Mother Georgia looks over Tbilisi

Dinara arrived to conduct our walking tour of Tbilisi. Starting from our hotel, we passed the old synagogue (closed to visitors) and crossed Meidan Square. Whilst western Georgia battled against Ottoman control and the east fought Persian domination (long before both were annexed by Russia) Tbilisi was the capital of an Arab caliphate. Meidan comes from the Arabic 'midan' meaning square, so we were crossing Square Square - and you have to take care crossing tautologies.

Tbilisi Synagogue

The old town is on the southern side of Tbilisi's Mtkvari River. English speakers think Tbilisi starts with an unhelpful clump of consonants, so Mtkvari is a word that can only be looked at in jaw-clamped amazement. The Georgian language - a member of the Kartvelian language group, whose only other members are also spoken only in Georgia - loves to aggregate apparently unpronounceable consonants, seven or even eight are possible and four, as in Mtkvari is common.

Metekhi Church and Founding of the City

Central Tbilisi is situated in a ravine. On the south side the cliffs are several hundred metres back, but on the north they rise straight from the river for a considerable stretch. We crossed the bridge from tautology square and climbed the bluff to Metekhi Church, one of the more prominent of Tbilisi’s ample supply of churches. Many Georgians, mainly older woman, feel the need to cross themselves, not once but repeatedly, every time they see a church. In Tbilisi old ladies can develop right arms like tennis players.

Metekhi Church, Tbilisi

The 5th century King Vakhtang Gorgasali built his palace and a church on this outcrop. Legend says the king was out hunting when his falcon grabbed a pheasant and he watched the two birds tumble from the sky. According to one story he found them both dead in a hot spring, but the statue commemorating the event - which is across the river beside the still extant hot spring - shows a live falcon standing atop a boiled pheasant. Apparently this 'ready meal' aspect persuaded the king to build his capital here.

Hawk and boiled pheasant, Tbilisi

David the Builder, Georgia’s greatest king who united the country in the eleventh century built his own palace and church over Vakhtang's. The current church was started by King Demetre Tavdadebuli (Demetre the Self-Sacrificing) in the thirteenth century. Allegedly it was a copy of David the Builder’s church, but it has been partially destroyed and rebuilt many times, so if it ever was, it is not now.

Mass was being celebrated and we joined the congregation listening to a venerable priest with a rich voice reading from the New Testament. His sonorous tones were answered by a choir of unbelievable musicality. What happens, I wonder, to a young man who feels a vocation to the orthodox priesthood but lacks a resonant bass voice? As always in orthodox churches there were no pews, the standing congregation came and went, and we left as communion started.

Outside we photographed the 1960s equestrian statue of Vakhtang Gorgasali ….

King Vakhtang Gorgasali, outside Mekheti Church, Tbilisi

Tamada

…. and re-crossed the bridge to the old town, pausing near the Konka Station where we had eaten last night. Nearby is a bronze statue of a man (or boy?) relaxing in a chair, drinking-horn in hand. Every Georgian supra (feast) needs a tamada, a toastmaster who proposes the toasts for others to elaborate upon and so keep the wine flowing. This little fellow, known as Tamada, is Tbilsi’s permanent honorary toastmaster. He is a copy of a gold trinket, the original hardly 2cm tall, which wewould seelater in the national museum. We noticed last night that visitors flock to be photographed with Tamada, those small enough sitting on its lap, others posing beside him. There was no reason why we should be left out.

With Tamada, Tbilisi

A Café, a Caravanserai and the Bridge of Peace

We passed Sioni Cathedral again and continued down a narrow street lined with cafés….

Café, Tbilisi

…. and a couple of caravansaries. Tbilisi was a major hub onthe Silk Road between Baku and Istanbul and the caravansaries were more urban and western than the one we stayed in in Sheki. Sadly, modern Tbilisi does not quite seem to know what to do with them.

Caravansary, Tbilisi

Beyond is the ultra-modern Bridge of Peace footbridge, opened in 2010. The cable car running from the north side of the river to the cliffs on the city’s southern edge does not run on Sunday mornings so there was no point crossing the bridge, but we did anyway.

Bridge of Peace, Tbilisi

Across the bridge, in front of the Presidential Palace, is the recently completed Rike Park Theatre and Exhibition Centre. This strange tube-like structure is one of the controversial ‘New Georgia’ buildings designed to contrast with the old city. Striking and innovative it will, in time, become loved or hated (or possibly both).

Rike Park Theatre, Tbilisi

Georgian Orthodoxy on a Sunday Morning

Continuing along the south bank we passed the palace of the Catholicos-Patriarch of all Georgia. Melkizidek I became the first Catholicos-Patriarch in 1001 and the line continued unbroken until 1811 when Russian annexation led to the absorption of the Georgian Orthodox Church into the Russian Orthodox Church. Independence was regained in 1917 and, as the Soviet Union was as equally hostile to both churches it has been maintained ever since. The present incumbent, Elias II, has been in post since 1977.

the Catholicos-Patriarch of all Georgia lives in here, Tbilisi

Nearby is the 6th century Anchiskhati Basilica, Tbilisi’s oldest surviving church. It was packed and as even the faithful were queuing for entrance gawpers were not welcome.

Anchiskhati Basilica, Tbilisi

Puppet Theatre, Tbilisi

The narrow streets of the old town continue as far as the Puppet Theatre with its crazily leaning clock tower. The puppet shows, Dinara informed us, were for adults, not children and as the next production was entitled 'The Siege of Stalingrad' we had to believe her. Rezo Gabriadze, who founded the theatre and designed the building, writes and produces all the shows. The shows have also toured extensively including visits to the Edinburgh Festival and London’s Barbican.

Puppet Theatre, Tbilisi

Leaving the narrow roads of the old city we turned left toward the commercial centre.

'Stalin's Seminary' and a Cheese Shop

Opposite the seminary…..

The seminary where Stalin trained to be a priest, Tbilisi

…. where Josef Dzejugashvili, who later renamed himself Josef Stalin, studied for the priesthood (he was thrown out for ‘revolutionary activities’), is a specialist cheese shop. I did not set out to write a sentence linking one of the twentieth centuries worst political monsters with the trivia of my own foodie obsession, but it happened and I am not going to change it. So there.

Cheese shop, Tbilisi

Cheese is important to Georgians (though I don't know Stalin's relationship with cheese, even if it is recorded) and appears at every meal either as the ubiquitous khachapuri cheese pie, or as plain wedges, but most often both. Georgian cheese is hard, crumbly and with a strong, distinctive flavour. It could be mistaken for no other cheese, but we had not encountered much variety. The cheerful cheesemonger was happy to give us a tasting, though he knew we were in no position to buy. Carving slices with pride he proved that variety does exist. He had cheeses of different shapes and sizes, some from cow's milk, some from goat's and a few sheep milk cheeses. They all had a distinctive Georgian character but varied in strength, friability, and goatiness or sheepiness as appropriate.

Freedom Square, Tbilisi

Continuing to Freedom Square we paused for a Turkish coffee. The café stood on the edge of the square where St George slays his Dragon on top of a 35m column. The sculpture in gilded bronze is the work of Zurab Tsereteli who donated it to the city. It was unveiled in 2006, filling a vacancy that had existed since Lenin, after whom the square was once named, vanished in 1991.

George and his Dragon, Freedom Square, Tbilisi

Georgian National Museum, The Treasure

After coffee we walked round the square and made our way to the National Museum. The museum equipped us with an English speaking guide, an elderly woman who asked if we would like to start with ‘treasure’ or ‘general archaeological’. Thinking it would not matter much I said 'treasure' and she took us down to a large, dimly lit basement.

Ten minutes later we were still at the first display case; clearly 'treasure' was all we were going to see. She was an enthusiast and talking in the way such people do, her enthusiasm was infectious. Objects of gold, silver and semi-precious stones, including the tiny original of the Tamada, have been recovered from burials from the third millennium BC up to the fourth century AD. Her particular enthusiasm was for the older pieces where the workmanship was, she said, the finest. Sometimes I could see her point, sometimes a more expert eye than mine was required. The gold came from the ancient Kingdom of Colchis where Jason and the Argonauts came to steal the Golden Fleece - before this trip I had not even realised Colchis was a real place.

Gold Earrings from Colchis, 5th century BC, Georgian National Museum, picture from Wikipedia

Dinara remarked that one particular group of artefacts had been discovered by her grandfather. The guide asked who he was. She knew him, of course (he is an eminent archaeologist) and she had also taught Dinara's father. Tbilisi is a small town.

After over an hour with the treasure lunch beckoned – it was well after one o'clock.

We decided to eat and then return, but to the Soviet Occupation exhibition rather than the archaeology – life is too short to see everything.

Lunch In Tbilisi, Megrelian Khachapuri

We lunched in a cavernous basement restaurant which we almost had to ourselves. 'It's always busy in the evenings,' Dinara said, slightly defensively. We ate Megrelian Khachapuri (every region had its own version but the differences are mostly too slight to concern foreigners) and mushrooms in a clay pot - seven or eight mushrooms each with a small piece of cheese melted in the cap. The dish is relatively expensive but brings out all the flavour of the mushrooms.

Georgian National Museum, The Soviet Occupation

Back in the museum, the Soviet Occupation section had similarities with those we had seen in the Baltic States (see Vilnius, Riga and Tallinn). Like the Baltics, Azerbaijan, Armenia and Georgia were absorbed into Imperial Russia by the expansionist policies of Peter the Great. All six states saw a brief flowering of freedom after the First World War but while the Baltic States remained independent until the Second World War freedom lasted only until 1920 or ‘21 in the Caucasus.

Independence was reclaimed in 1991 after the collapse of the Soviet Union, but not without a struggle. We saw the Declaration of Independence, and Dinara proudly pointed out her great-grandmother's signature in the second column.

The Baltic States are now members of the European Union and NATO. Georgia fears Russia even more than they do, having lost control of the provinces of Abkhazia and South Ossetia after Russian supported breakaways, and losing a further war against Russia over South Ossetia in 2008. In Georgia we frequently saw the EU flag flown alongside the Georgian flag, and many would like the protection of the EU and NATO – a situation to which the Russians are implacably opposed.

Emerging into the heat of the afternoon we headed back to the Peace Bridge, pausing only to photograph Lynne alongside Pushkin who spent some time in Tbilisi in the 1820s.

Lynne and Pushkin, Tbilisi

The Narikala Fortress

The cable car was now running and it swung us swiftly up across the old city to Narikala Fortress. Looking back we could see the huge Tsminda Sameba cathedral which is nearing completion….

Looking across the city to the new Tsminda Sameba Cathedral, Tbilisi

…while to the northwest the city spreads away into the distance.

Tbilisi sprawls into the distance

Narikala Fortress sits on a thin ridge....

Narikala Fortress, Tbilisi

....the land behind dropping away as quickly as on the city side. Behind we looked down onto the botanical gardens and an area of eroded badlands that seemed incongruous so near the centre of a city. Below us was the river and the Metekhi Church.

Metekhi Church and the Mtkvari River, Tbilisi

There is road access to the end of the fortress and we were surprised to find Alex waiting for us in the car park. Also there was a young man who had apparently packed the whole of a coffee shop into the back of a van. Perhaps he looked so glum because apart from my photographing him, his feat was attracting neither interest nor custom.

Coffee van, Narikala Fortress, Tbilisi

Tbilisi Thermal Baths

Alex drove us down the end of the ridge to the thermal baths where Vakhtang Gorgasali's pheasant was boiled. Most of the low domed buildings have been converted to other uses, but some survive as baths and the smell of sulphur lurks around the streets, though you have to be in exactly the right place to catch it.

The old baths, Tbilisi

At the end of the baths and rather separated from the others is a building I took to be mosque. Persian in style it is, in fact, another bath, and once described by Pushkin as the most luxurious place on earth.

Persian style baths, Tbilisi

There is real a mosque tucked behind the ridge, just one for the whole Muslim population of the city. There used to be two, one Sunni, one Shiite, but Stalin said they only needed one and should share. They still do, which could be a lesson to some of their co-religionists.

Tbilisi mosque (from the Naraqila Fortress)

We walked up the stream past the baths where the sulphur smell comes and goes to the waterfall at the end of the little ravine. It may not be the most majestic of waterfalls but it is the largest I know of in the centre if a capital city.

Waterfall by hot springs, Tbilisi

We returned to our hotel for a shower after a long hot day. Later we returned to the row of cafés in the old city and picked the wrong one. There was nothing wrong with the dolmas and soured cream, the mushrooms, or the pancakes with walnuts and honey, but they were overpriced and the service was frustratingly slow.