The inevitable food post.

My first day in Georgia was a lucky one, despite the inclement weather, a nonstop drizzle that permeated the whole city in a colorless hue (I'd quote the beginning of Neuromancer, but that'd be as predictable of quoting London Calling whenever going there). In fact, today was the last day of Tbilisoba (თბილისობა), a yearly festival celebrating the culture of the capital. Street food, various goods markets, men in chokha (amazing) and music were all parts of the celebration.

Those up here are khinkali (ხინკალი), a typical Georgian recipe, dumplings with a filling of meat and herbs, especially coriander. You can eat them plain of with some coarse black pepper, which I obviously did. In fact, I was loitering in front of the stall with a puzzled look on my face, when this man approached and handed me a beer. Present, this is present, he said. He insisted, and had me sit down and asked me if I also wanted to eat. I told him I would have liked to try khinkali, and he smiled. He asked me how many I wanted. One, two, three? I told him I didn't really know the typical amount. He showed me a plate with three on. I nodded, and say yes, three. He smiled and said six! So he brought me six of those, which I proceeded to eat like a pro.

Actually not, you're not supposed to eat the "handle", the top part, which is a bit though. Because yes, te fact you eat them with you hands was the only thing I read before. But I had no idea of the top part. Whatever. In the meantime, I met Giorgi and Nika, two 13-old kids who seemed to be amused by my presence. I definitely have a possibility here, move to Georgia and be a stand-up comedian. Which is, just amuse people by standing up.

When I was about to have the last one, the man brought me bread and a plate of barbecued meat with onions. It was very good and I checked the prices. If the beer was a "present, present", a plate of meat and khinkali would still be cheap stuff. So I ate all and prepared to pay.

Turns out that the man insisted I was not going to pay. All of it was present, present. He said this is Georgia, you're our guest and refused to take a single Gel.

Giorgi and Nika, who I'd like to remark, spoke English better than many 13, 14 and 20-years old I know, told me I had to try churchkhela. I didn't know what they were talking about, until I realised. They were those things I kept saying all day, sold by everyone and their mother (sometimes literally) and I would not have dared to try, due to the fact I had no idea what they were, but they didn't look particularly inviting.

Churchkhela (ჩურჩხელა), sometimes called "the Georgian Snickers" are made with nuts or almonds and dipped in grape juices. The result are these unholy things that at first I thought were candles, then I suspected were sausages. I had no idea they were sweet. They are made in a way not unlike Disney idea of witches' cauldrons.

The kids bought three and offered me one. Today I basically didn't spend a single Gel for food. We took a picture, I thanked them for the churchkhela and parted. On my way back to the hostel I realised that it's not how things should work. I, the grown man, got offered candies by two kids I just met. As far as I know it is supposed to be the other way round.