Into Kaheti

Today we spent with friends in Kaheti sightseeing in Signagi. When tourists were looking at the vistas Signagi has to offer, my friends and I strolled along the cobblestone streets eating peanuts from street vendors and looked up at the laundry and mattresses hanging off of balconies. We chatted about diapers and baby carriers and wheat. The children made water ballons and ate popcorn and played on the playground.

We found my godmother there selling souvenirs to the tourists and were showered with free souvenirs ... everything Sophie touched turned into a gift for her from the women selling their wares. While admiring the souvenirs, the neighbor saleswoman asked Giorgi his last name. We learned it was her maiden name and they were 2nd cousins. It seems as though everyone is related here!

We drove my godmother home and the neighbors all sopped to stare at the American in their village. I'm sure it will be the talk of the town tonight!

Once at home, we prepared a supra in the garden and under the grapevines for our friends and in his best Tamada form, Soso led the guests into that place I have only seen at a Georgian table where thoughts of tomorrow completely dissolve and friends come together right here right now. It's as if a ray of light is shining only on now... and now... and now, each moment suspended in the air with every toast.

I need to do an aside here about the art of the Tamada (toastmaster) for those of you who haven't read my earlier blogs. When I first came to Georgia, I loved the Georgian toasting table, but was a bit taken aback by how much drinking it entailed (for the men only thank goodness!). Then, as I got to know the culture better, I began to appreciate the value of a great tamada. For those of you new to this scene, a tamada must be able to out-drink his guests, out-sing his guests and out-orate his guests as if these three things were for sport. The tamada must hold his guests' interest by toasting (after every toast, the entire glass is drunk), singing folk songs in perfect pitch and/or reciting poetry, all from memory, and all night long if the party demands it.

Giorgi's father is such a tamada and I feel blessed and lucky to have him as my father-in-law. He can accomplish that feat of feats at the table, opening the window into a timeless state where all is forgotten but the table. No worries about working the next day or what is happening at home. Only thoughts of affection for those at the table one by one, heartfelt, and then for the children playing in the yard, for our ancestors passed before us and the land around us. A particularly favorite conversation this evening centered around Soso's allegiance to his vineyard as his "other" son and how torn he is when we are in town because Soso feels that he must sometimes choose between his two children. Giorgi, however, was less impressed by this line of reasoning.

We partied into the night, each taking turns having fun with the children or participating int he toasts. As the evening grew dark, the electricity went out for a while. No one batted an eye - all simply went on. Someone stuck a candle into a loaf of bread and light remained at the table. Sophie kept trying to blow it out like a birthday candle. Later in the evening, one of the kids started playing music from a car radio and people began to dance. At midnight on the dot, as if under Cinderella's spell, everyone piled into their cars to travel the hour and a half back into the city.

I wish I could bottle the feeling behind the friendship and parties here. Maybe it's the air or the land or the water, but it seems that in Georgia, sleep and work take a back seat to spending time with friends and family. It's Sunday night and our friends all work full time jobs and have small children. In our house this evening were children ages 1-12 (plus Luca of course), all of whom had a wonderful time together staying up WAY past their bedtime. Nevermind. We're together and happy. Nothing more. Meti araperi. Vikaipot!

After the kisses and goodbyes and clean-up, Soso decided to make coffee for us all. So the four of us sat outside (Sophie and Luca had passed out a little while before everyone left) watching Soso animatedly make coffee and then sat down to drink and process family affairs. The supra's veil lifted with guests departed but we continued to giggle and enjoy one another's company just a little while longer.





Finally, Giorgi and I brushed our teeth in the new running water, brought the children upstairs to our beds and slept.