Eleven years ago (2009) I went with a few friends to Georgia in the Caucasus for a holiday. We took a flight to Tbilisi from Heathrow and when we walked into the baggage hall I knew what was going to happen.
But we had already had a mishap. Probably the most intelligent member of our small group had prudently made a copy of his passport in case it got lost or stolen. He forgot to remove his passport from the photocopier and so missed the flight. The baggage hall at Tbilisi had a suspiciously large amount of unclaimed luggage and, sure enough, one member of our party found her case had been left in London. Prudently, I only had a carry-on bag.
It was only a year since Russia had attacked Georgia and in less than a month annexed Abkhazia and South Ossetia. Memories were raw. Our guide lived close to the airport and remembered it being bombed.
I learned so much about the history of this ancient civilisation much of which I have forgotten but Wiki has refreshed my memory. It became Christian in the 4th century and we visited churches with spectacular wall paintings, often still just about surviving on outside walls. It peaked in the 12th and early 13th centuries under the rule of King David the Builder and Queen Tamar the Great. Queen Tamar was a traveller and liked to go up into the mountains. We followed in her footsteps visiting the highest inhabited village in Europe, although this could be disputed on more than one count. To get there we crossed a rickety wooden bridge over a ravine. We all refused to cross in our vehicle and walked across after it preceded us. On our return journey we made a detour because the bridge had collapsed.
I have happy memories of that holiday; some good walks, an especially welcoming population and a vicious home-made spirit called chacha that I had again in a Georgian restaurant St Petersburg in January this year. A museum to Stalin at Gorilla, his birthplace, was interesting – particularly walking through the armoured train carriage he used. The stone towers built as fortification from invaders reminded me of the tower at Monasterboice in Co Louth.
How on earth did they get that past the planners?The neighbours must have resented having their view wrecked.