Toilet Paper Luxeries

I thought Georgia would be like Bulgaria: great food and wine and both of Orthadox religion, etc. But it's really like being back in Equador/Peru 20 years ago. The toilet paper is like a brown paper bag only slightly softer and stretchy. Some places I stayed literally used pages of a book torn out. Outhouses are common. Some of the outhouses are over a lovely stream where the waste drops into. I wondered why the bigger rivers were so cloudy.

The trek I did involved staying at families' homes. I didn't need to bring a sleeping bag (although I did) or a tent or even food. Every family provided me with a huge breakfast and they would send me off with way too much for my lunch. They also provided dinner. I always had to tell them not to bring any more food. They would set the table with enough for at least six people. Every thing was homemade. It had to be because they are stuck there in the winter and can't go anywhere.

I told you the last road got a prize for the worst. Well, after my trek I took a mini van back to Mestia from Ushguli and it made the former road seem like a super highway. (Note picture of the bulls pulling out the van.)

Anyway every family made their own homemade cheese and yogurt, jams, and honey. All the bread was homemade.

The best family, and I shouldn't say that but they were a little more special, was the one I stayed at the first night in Zhabeshi. And getting to Zhabeshi was magical. During the whole trek I saw no one. This is not the season. I'm been ahead of the crowds this entire trip. I like being alone, being consumed by the rocks, streams, trees, wild flowers, wild life . I thought, "What have I done to have such a wonderful life!" I'm so lucky to be able to walk alone among all these snow capped mountains.

There was only one downer. I missed the markers and instead of going above this village I went through it. I had to ask directions to get back on the trail. The only people I saw were a group of guys involved in a dog fight. Something I didn't want to witness. Two big vicious shephards: one white and the other a German. I didn't want to look but when I briefly turned around the white one was on the ground, lifeless and the German had its teeth around it's neck.

When I arrive at the Naveriani family home the father, mother, and two sons were cutting and stacking wood. This is only June and they are already planning for the winter. It was still early so I hiked on to the Tviberi Glacier, although I couldn't get all the way there because there had been an avalance leaving a big hole that was impossible to go around. When I returned the mother had a salad, potatoes, the meat stuffed bread (chubadari) and cheese stuffed bread (hachapuri) ready for me.

The guys were still working so I went out and helped them stack. Their wood pile was a thing of beauty. I helped my friend Nancy stack wood and I'm sorry Nanc, but these guys had shaved strips of wood on the ground to keep the bottoms ones dry. The six cords were so closely packed it looked like a wall. They used skinned tree limbs to pack them in like a cell. I enjoyed helping them and they got a kick out of it. Later, after their dinner we shared shots of vodka and communicated with no language.

But I have to tell you about the sheets. The sheets were like the toilet paper. They were so rough I had bumps all over my skin the next morning. I decided they should market these sheets in the States as a night time exfoiant. The pillow felt like it was stuffed with pebbles.

Still I loved this family and the morning before I left Darijohn had freshly baked chubadari for me. She wanted me to take the whole round. I refused and only took a quarter. (Note picture of Mamuka and the rounds in fromt of him)I'm glad I took it because the next part of the hike was really difficult.