That architecture...

Well, it's not new that I love communist architecture, especially when it's so nicely mixed with that 60's science-fiction feel...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Religious pilgrimage

This time the cultural trip will be a bit shorter than the usual. First because I'm in a smaller city, second because I want to balance relax and culture. And the weather is still fugly, so I need to distract myself with something else than churches. Anyway ket's start with the first. Mănăstirea Trei Ierarhi is a seventeenth-century monastery and it's name means Monastery of the Three Hierarchs, because it's dedicated to Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nazianzus, and John Chrysostom). It is famous for it's beautifully engraved outer walls, which include motives with over 30 different motives, a mix of Eastern and Western influences (Armenian, Georgian, Persian, Arabian, Ottoman, Gothic and Renaissance).

It was, unfortunately, forbidden to take photos inside, where some Romanian important figures are buried, among which Alexandru Ioan Cuza, the first ruler of the united Romanian principalities. Next was Mănăstirea Golia, so called because it was erected by boyar Ioan Golia in the VI Century. It was then rebuilt (bigger) by Prince Vasile Lupu in the VII Century, and completed by his son Ştefăniţă. Main characteristic is the tall walls that completely surround the monastery, with a tall tower at the main gate.

Here it was possible taking pictures and I'm thankful for this, as the inside is particularly beautiful, with the usual colourful frescoes and elaborate accessories, so typical of Orthodox churches.

Close to the Palace of Culture there is also Biserica Sfântul Nicolae Domnesc (Saint Nicholas Princely Church), which is very important from a historic point of view, being one of the oldest Iași, but inside it wasn't the most interesting. If I have to cite something I don't like of orthodox churches, is the annexed shop at the entrances very often inside the church.

There is also an Armenian church, but apparently it is permanently closed. And it's not like I haven't seen my fair share of them. And this is the end of Churches Ahoy, because I need a goddamn hot coffee right now.

Iași

Iași, the fourth largest city in Romania, located in the historical region of Moldavia. A once capital of Romania (from 1916 to 1918), leading cultural center, home of several important universities, was unceremoniously chosen for my weekend for nothing else than a damn cheap round trip ticket.

No CouchSurfing, this time, as I'd rather be 100% independent, exchanging less words as possible with anyone, also thanks for the general weather mood.

Yes, this is what I'm trading.

For this weekend, I then booked a hostel. Once arrived and having called the propriety (nobody answered the doorbell), they asked me to show the passport to an intercom camera. 

• «Can you show the passport?»
• «Sure. Well, I have my ID card.»
• «No no, the passport.»
• «Uh, it's the European Union, there is no need for passport. Identity card is OK.»
• «Ah, OK then.» 

After this I get allowed inside, where after a bit of wandering between the kitchen and some empty rooms, I meed David, a Romanian guy that also had to undergo the drill the night before. He explained me the managers are never here, and everything is a bit of guesswork. But the place is clean. VERY clean. I might never have seen such a clean hostel. This is maybe the reason the owners aren't here, they don't want to litter.

After setting in, I decided to go out and eat something. I opted for La Plăcinte, a restaurant advised by a friend, which is also rather close. I got a ciorbă de legume cu carne de vită and a Sarmale cu smântână, accompanied by a good glass of red.

 

Color coded for "deadly". It wasn't.

Alsto not spicy, but at the temperature of the sun.

After the dinner, I wanted to have something to drink, so I considered my chances. The best seems to be La Bază, a pub within walking distances. So I walked the distance.

La Bază is in a big Blade Runn-ish complex with other venues, including Underground, a rock/metal place.

  

 

 

 

The place itself is very nice. Cosy, with hand-drawn gig posters on the walls, decent music selection and no toxic customers. I might come back on my last night. For now, time to go to sleep, tomorrow (now) I will do a bit of exploring.

Zugdidi and the Martvili Canyon

 

It's finally time to leave Mestia and head to Zugdidi. After a quick breakfast at the hostel, I reached the restaurant from which the marshrutka to Tbilisi depart, and boarded. The trip offered wonderful views, but my seat was in the worst possible position for taking pictures, so I quickly gave up and watched "Southpaw" with Jake Gyllenhaal, dubbed "the Georgian way": two voices doing everything, one male and one female, over the regular voice tracks. A bit like 80's documentaries. It was followed by Turbo Kid, a preposterous faux-vintage sci-fi flick. When my head couldn't take anymore, we arrived in Zugdidi, where I met Tiko's parents.

 

 

The House of Dadiani was a Georgian family of nobles, dukes and princes, and a ruling dynasty of the western Georgian province of Samegrelo. The family is connected to the Bonaparte's family, as Salome Dadiani married Prince Achille Murat, grandson of Napoleon's sister, Carolina. In Zugdidi, Palace Dadiani has been turned into a museum, and all kind of items from the noble family can be visited. It's definitely worth a check, especially if you go to the wonderful botanical garden after.

 

  

  

 

 After this visit, we took some take-away lunch (khachapuri, suluguni) and headed to the Martvili Canyon, a wonderful natural secret of this region, on the Abash’s river near the city of Martvili. The waters used to be a bath place for Dadiani family and you can even take a short boat tour, on these beautiful dark green and blue waters.

  

  

  

 

 

 

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

 

After the canyon we did a short stop at the Dadiani summer residence, in Salkhino. The light was fading, so we just walked a bit near the vineyards, before going home for a "quick supper".

  

 

 

By now, if you follow this blog, you already know what quick supper means in Georgian... This time was no different.

  

 

 

Ushguli: the forgotten villages

The evening before I met with two other tourists and we decided to book a trip to Ushguli, a remote community of four villages 46 kilometres from Mestia. The weather, cold but clear, allowed it, since during the most snowy periods of the year, Ushguli is totally cut from civilisation. After some difficulties (the driver didn't show up - he simply decided he wasn't going) we managed to find another, although for a higher price. The guy was of little words and he delighted us with a selection of rather terrible music. Russian hip-hop, Azeri house and a Madonna greatest hits. But the landscape around us was captivating, so we survived.

 

The road was indeed impervious - at times it's conditions were terrible, I'm not surprised a bit of snow is enough to make the villages impossible to reach. We had to hold fast, as the bumps made us jump up and down in the car. Often we had to go over streams that crossed the road, or avoid fallen rocks. Other time we met peculiar characters.

After around two hours of this, we finally reached the first village. In front of us appeared a view that was difficult to frame in time. If it wasn't for the occasional car, some makeshift metal repairs, the presence of power lines or the ever-present Soviet touch, this would be really timeless. Of course, koshki towers dominate the view here as well.

In these four villages a total of 70 families live, for a total of 200 people.

 

As in Mestia, cattle freely roams the road. At one point in front of us there was an entire farm, striding in the muddy and icy streets. A cow, two swines, a gaggle of geese (finally I can use this!), a donkey and a dog. It doesn't get more rural than this, so we felt our mission was almost complete and since we were cold and hungry, we tried to find something to eat. Not being hunter-gatherers or farmers ourselves, we asked a lady who was near a sign advertising a market and food. Contrarily to what Georgians always are , but much like many other mountain people I know, she was quite brusque and not very friendly. She said she had only soups, probably hoping we would give up, but a hot soup was exactly what we needed in such a cold environment, so we agreed to the soups and she reluctantly showed us in the adjacent restaurant. The soup was tasty, warm and completely smile-free. We quickly finished eating and headed back to the car before it got dark, for another two hours of awful music and breath-taking landscapes.