Georgia on My Mind - 1992 Reflections Through A 2008 Prism
I spent the summer of 1992 studying in Indiana University’s six week Summer Study Abroad program in the former Soviet Union (Saint Petersburg, Georgia, and Moscow). I had just finished finals early in early May just after the Rodney King riots in Los Angeles and was glad to be getting out of the USA. Famous last words…
The group was mostly college kids from the Midwest, particularly a western Michigan college.
We met up at JFK Airport in NYC. The stewardesses brought out the vodka to placate the crazy college kids and others waiting for many hours on the runaway in an old Aeroflot plane. (Are you paying attention Jet Blue?) We finally took off from JFK to Prague for a day and a half. (I don’t drink beer that often but the best beer I ever drank was brewed in the basement of a restaurant in central Prague.)
We then transferred through Bratislava enroute to Saint Petersburg. It was interesting to be in “Czechoslovakia” as it was splitting up — thankfully peacefully unlike Yugoslavia tragically to its south.
The four weeks in Saint Petersburg were filled with tours, study, and some fun. I listened to Russian radio and it kept reporting of the fighting in Nagorno-Karabakh. My Russian wasn’t perfect but the gunfire in the background wasn’t hard to translate. It didn’t sound safe either in nearby Baku and I let our American group leader, Larry, know it. Larry agreed.
However, Larry was convinced by our Georgian guides who “guaranteed our safety” in eight days. For the record, I would have preferred to spend the eight days in Kiev, Ukraine, (as originally scheduled) and/or add some days to the five days we were supposed to in Moscow. There was more to do in Moscow and Kiev, the women were prettier, and less likely to get shot at. I was unfortunately outvoted and off to Georgia we went.
This wasn’t your typical “Girls Gone Wild” college trip. Nope, it was the “Gamsakhurdia Gone Into Exile and Run for Your Life Tour”. You know it’s bad when the first democratically elected President of Georgia had to go into exile. Long story. This vignette is replete with “Georgian Male Bonding”, dead peace keepers, and a couple of dozen unarmed college kids wondering how they ended up in the middle of a civil war that supposedly ended six months before.
We left Saint Petersburg in early June just before beautiful White Nights. The Aeroflot flight from Saint Petersburg to Tbilisi, the capital of Georgia, was a flight where both humans and livestock were welcome. There were a couple of caged chickens stowed in the overhead compartments. The noise and distraction was okay compared to the condensation that was leaking on me from the ceiling from above my seat. Before taking off, we all held hands and prayed for safe travel in our various faiths, even the atheist girl to Someone.
We thankfully landed safe and sound. The bus drove in the rain past some bombed out buildings from the civil war that supposedly ended six months before. Our college group was the first civilians to visit Tbilisi. Only military advisors and diplomats who had to go went. That should have been another clue to Larry but our safety was “guaranteed” by our hosts.
There was no hot water for the showers as Georgia supported fellow Eastern Orthodox country Armenia in the dispute with Muslim Azerbaijan over Nagorno-Karabakh. In retaliation, the Azeris cut off the oil supply so Georgia had to conserve energy where possible.
If the cold water wasn’t enough of a wake-up call, here was only one working elevator as someone was murdered in the other one during the night. You could still see the bullet holes and blood coming out of the elevator in the morning. And we were at the best hotel in town. Our trip was starting to feel more like “Hostel” than “Eurotrip”.
We ate breakfast and bordered the bus for our first tour. The bus had a bullet hole in the windshield. To lighten the situation, someone put a “Fruit of the Loom” sticker to cover up the bullet hole.
We had an armed guard with an AK-47 follow us in a car behind us wherever we went. We traveled north of Tbilisi into South Ossetia or very close nearby. I forget the exact town names in relation to current events but I felt lonely in the morbid way. There was a totally empty ski resort built by the Austrians in a joint venture with a local Georgian group. We made the best of it with our Georgian drinking horns filled with wine and vodka plus lots of prayer.
We got back to the hotel and were “entertained” nightly featuring the “Georgian Male Bonding” troupe/militia. This was where drunk men fired bullets into the air right outside our hotel. Those bullets thankfully didn’t hit us but a sniper’s bullet a couple of days later went through the “0″ in Room 808. I was down the hall in Room 811. Whew!
Even if we wanted to go “clubbing”, there was a 11 pm or midnight curfew. We weren’t going anywhere as stayed in the hallway or under our beds away from the windows to avoid the gunfire.
Not to be outdone, my fellow travelers were diverse featuring the following non-violent main characters:
(1) My roommate Dave was studying at Yale under Professor Paul Kennedy of “Rise and Fall of the Great Powers” fame. Dave was a good guy and REM fan.
(2) “Wayne’s World” impersonator Ian from Michigan. Nothing like a 280+ pound former offensive lineman singing and dancing to Jimi Hendrix’s “Foxy Lady” to break the tension.
(3) Krista the feminist. She wanted to spread feminism to Georgia and the former Soviet Union. I advised against it as there were enough bullets flying around. No reason to get shot interfering in others’ political affairs, especially in a traditional country emerging from decades of communism.
(4) Catherine the ballerina. Catherine became my quasi-girlfriend on the trip. I got Giardia, or water bacteria, from drinking the water in Saint Petersburg. Catherine was nice enough to lend me some penicillin to combat it. I was so ill and out of it that I slept through the Kutasi gang warfare near our hotel. Thanks wherever you are Catherine!
(5) Dado the Georgian Tour guide. Dado didn’t “guarantee our safety” like his idiot and greedy boss but was a gracious host. Feeling bad about the oil embargo, he chopped fire wood to load the wood burning stove in a Kutasi. The wood heated the pipes to give us our only hot shower in the eight days trip.
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After a few days in Tbilisi, we made our way to Gori, Joseph Stalin’s hometown, and then onto Kutasi, west of Tbilisi for our first and only overnight trip to Kutasi. While in Gori, we visited Joseph Stalin’s boyhood home. We then wanted to take pictures of his statue a few hundreds yards away. However, our guides asked us to get on the bus and we would drive there. We were bewildered and became angry as the bus kept driving past his statue. Not that any of us cared for the Monster but his statue was the last remaining one anywhere in the world. Quite a potential scoop for the history and political science students. Alas, another dashed opportunity. However, it was good that we left Gori when we did, only hours before a few Russian peace keepers were killed in Gori.
The bus guzzled along to Kutasi where we spent the night. I was so ill and on Catherine’s penicillin that I thankfully slept through the gang warfare outside my hotel room. Dado loaded the wood stove to heat the water for my only hot shower of the entire eight days.
Tensions were high on the way back from Kutasi as we were stopped at a checkpoint returning to Tbisili. We learned of the Russian peace keepers who were killed in Gori the day before, just hours after we left. We were a pretty frazzled group and I couldn’t blame Ian for “losing it”.
Some of us toured a beautiful and old Georgian Orthodox Church in Tbisili. Lucky we were at Church as someone blew up a jeep only blocks from our hotel. This was apparently in retaliation for the deaths of the Russian peace keepers in Gori two days earlier. I’m not sure who killed who but wanted out.
We thankfully left Tbisili after Larry or his Georgian counterpart bribed airport officials to let overweight luggage through. Ian and I were way over the limit. I filled a large hockey bag with metroskaya dolls and Russian literary classics from Pushkin, Tolstoy, and others that I bought for a song in Saint Petersburg.
We spent four or few days in Moscow. I met up with a brother of the friend of the family there. I never made it to the circus and have yet to do so. I guess I’ll have to go to Madison Square Garden one of these years. We flew back through Prague and back to JFK. I learned enough Russian to help a Russian man get to “Kleveland” (Cleveland). My Mom stopped by to say hi and I gave her the hockey bag of souvenirs.
I continued onto Indiana. I spent the night at Dave’s parents’ house in Indianapolis and traveled to Bloomington to participate in the Summer Workshop in Slavic and Eastern European Languages.
I received a call from Catherine asking me if I heard the news. No, I replied. She told me that there was an assassination attempt on President Shervardnadze which happened in the main square in Tbisili in front of our hotel about a week after we left. At least one or two of his bodyguards were killed. President Shevardnadze was injured but not killed. Like the kites at the end of “The Kite Runner”, I was thankful to be safe at home in the USA where I could “fly like a bird in sky and no one can take my freedom away.” (From “Una Paloma Blanca“)
Posted by a grateful Tomislav Djurdjevich in Hong Kong.