| Title | A Taxi Ride to the Jvari Monastery |
|---|---|
| Author | Lorenzo Gianni, Manuel Primitivi |
| Date | 2024-09-17 |
ტაქსით გასეირნება ჯვრის მონასტერში
ჩვენ გვსურს ვისარგებლოთ ჩვენი თავისუფალი დროით შაბათ-კვირას, თუმცა, ჯერ კიდევ გამოუცდელებმა საქართველოს უზარმაზარ ქვეყანაში, გადავწყვიტეთ გასულიყო თბილისის გარეთ, რათა მოვინახულოთ ოდესღაც დედაქალაქი: მცხეთა. თუ მცხეთამდე მისვლა ადვილი გვეჩვენებოდა, ჩვენი პირველი დაბრკოლება სწორედ შესაბამისი სატრანსპორტო საშუალების პოვნა იყო. ტაქსის მძღოლმა, რომელიც რუსულად ლაპარაკობდა, შემოგვთავაზა იქ წაყვანა, ცრუ მტკიცებით, რომ მცხეთისთვის მარშუტკები არ იყო. ადგილობრივების არასწორი მიმართულებების გავლის შემდეგ, დიდუბის მოძრაობა და ტუალეტის ძებნა, საბოლოოდ ვიპოვეთ მარშუტკას მცხეთაში გასასვლელი ადგილი. მოგზაურობა დაიწყო. და ჩვენ გაგვიმართლა, რომ ვიპოვეთ ორი ადგილი, იმის ნაცვლად, რომ დავდგეთ, თუმცა ხანმოკლე მგზავრობაზე.
A Taxi Ride to the Jvari Monastery
We like to take advantage of our free time at the weekends, yet, still inexperienced in the vast country of Georgia, we decided to go just outside of Tbilisi to visit what was once the capital: Mtskheta. If reaching Mtskheta looked easy to us, our first obstacle was precisely to find the proper means of transport. A taxi driver, who spoke Russian, proposed to take us there, trying to convince us by falsely claiming that there were no marshrutkas for Mtskheta. After having wriggled through incorrect directions from locals, the traffic of Didube, and the quest for a toilet, we finally found the right place of departure of the marshrutka to Mtskheta. The journey began. And we were lucky enough to find two seats, instead of having to stand for the, albeit short, ride.
The historical city is lovely in its ancient appearance. Its size confers an almost fairy atmosphere. Unfortunately, in certain spots, the relatively big crowds of tourists, nothing compared to those you might see in Rome, ruin Mtskheta's religious peace, transforming the old city's main road into a touristy showcase of Georgian cuisine, craftsmanship and traditions.
After a khachapuri, we felt the urge to see the old capital from above. Therefore, we booked a Bolt: destination Jvari Monastery. Hence, we waited for the blue car driven by a man with a Greek-resembling name. He was a peculiar character, who, after having lived for several years abroad, decided to come back to his home country to drive, and be a guide for, tourists around Georgia, and even neighbouring countries. The car was well-equipped with water bottles and pots of matsoni, a delicious Georgian yoghurt. Interestingly, the man could not only speak Georgian, German and Russian, but even Italian, the language that he was now trying to improve and practise daily. Perhaps, it was his lucky day to find two Italians! The conversation started enjoyably, as we were asking questions about his life, experiences and country, and he was doing the same. The most interesting aspect of his story was his decision to become a guide and driver in Georgia. The main rationale behind this choice was simple, yet fascinating: meeting new people. He likes to have discussions and small talks with people from across the world, while admiring the beautiful nature and views of his country. A rather unconventional strategy that he adopts is changing the starting point of his working day often. That day, by chance, he was in Mtskheta. With the progress of what we thought would have been a short drive, the conversation started to rapidly change direction. He was increasingly becoming interested in the Italian language, trying to practice it with us (even with decent results), and asking us questions on how to say specific things. We were so eager to share our knowledge, and the driver was so focused on his itinerant Italian lesson, that none of us realised that we were already supposed to be at the monastery.
Meanwhile, we noticed a singular phenomenon with the navigator: the indicated time to reach our destination was continuously growing in front of our eyes, and Jvari was not in our line of sight anymore. The driver perceived our state of confusion, and asked us if we were heading towards Tbilisi.
After this question, we were probably even more confused, and we clarified to him that we wanted to go to the Jvari Monastery. While our more pessimistic part thought it impossible at this point to reach the monastery, and it was focusing on how to get out of this inconvenient situation, the driver did not give up. He focused once again on the street, leaving behind, at least for the moment, his polyglot spirit. With a quick U-turn, he apologised for the inconvenience and finally, our small blue car reached the monastery, accompanied by another long series of juggling of questions and answers in Italian. We reluctantly accepted the Bolt driver's offer of waiting for us to take us back to the city for the same price as the first journey. When he got out of the car, we were quite bewildered by the scruffy appearance of the man. Yet, even more curious was the driver's seat, covered by foam boards that, at least to a passenger's eye, made driving in the Georgian streets an even less easy activity. After visiting the monastery, we returned to Mtskheta, and this journey was no different from the first one (besides lifting a Russian guy for a couple of kilometres along the way): a brief but intense Italian lesson.
In the evening, and for the following days, we reflected upon our interesting and unusual encounter. While the driver has certainly increased his Italian vocabulary, we have also learnt a valuable lesson: seek interactions with the people that surround you, even, and perhaps especially, with those that, judging by their appearance, seem to have little to share with you. Just as importantly, we had a first glance at the Georgian taxi experience. While listening to the fascinating and absorbing experiences of the drivers, we recommend checking the directions every now and then.