Good Grief Gudauri

Growing up in West Texas, I enjoyed country music. Most artists I listened to were Texans with George Strait at the top of the list. A little music from the Okie Garth Brooks from time to time was acceptable, since my Dad was from Oklahoma. But there was one good friend of Willie Nelson, whose iconic song about Georgia grasped my attention as a kid. It was Ray Charles’ song “Georgia”.

Now as a voluntary immigrant on the other side of the globe, there are a plethora of benefits like visiting unique cultures. This family adventure is in Georgia. Not the state, but the country. Wedged between Russia, Armenia, and Turkey, this country has built a following among travelers for its wine, skiing, and off the radar location.

Austria vs. Georgia

2021 was my Ironman year. Then it became get Nadine and the kids skiing the rest of the year. With December skiing in mind, the search began. The wintry mix of COVID restrictions and the uncertainty of December snow, expense was the major factor guiding our choice. Austria and Georgia were the finalists. When it came to which country would implement more prohibitive restrictions, that would definitely be Western European Austria. The snow quality would be a toss up with no guarantees either way. Finally, stuck in a country without snow, which would be the most economical. Hands down in favor of Georgia. So Georgia it was. To make it even a bit easier, all our frequent flier miles got us to Tbilisi for free. Only took five different reservations though.

Catch Me if You Can

As direct the (free) flight to Tbilisi passed over Tehran, Iran, I reflected on fellow teachers and travelers who always mentioned the Georgian cuisine. And once on the ground, the first food Dom wanted to try was Georgian khahipuri. Khachipuri is a flat, buttery bread with what appears to be a goat cheese in the middle. “Oh, this is sooooo good. I could eat this forever” marked Dom’s approval.

Young Eyes, Old Hands

Before being an independent state in 1991, this country sitting at the doorstep between Eastern Europe and Western Asia, Georgia was a part of the Soviet Union for 70 years. Not surprisingly, people we would interact with on this trip had lived in Georgia when it was still a part of Russia. One of those people was Boris. He drove me and my “babies” to Gudauri from Tbilisi.

“Oh, you have four lovely babies.” Those babies were my 14, 11, 7, and 5 year old children.

“I agree Boris. My babies are fantastic. My oldest baby is Sophie. She is 14 years old” as I peeked over my front row seat to see all five of my babies smashed together in the second row of his little sedan.

“My other baby, Dom, is 11. The two littlest babies, Annabelle and Monica, are 7 and 5.”

“Oh, it’s so great to have so many babies.”

Boris revealed that he was only in his early fifties, but our conversation through his limited English, and my non-existent Georgian was interesting. He grew up under Russian control but now experienced life in an independent Georgia. I learned on this warm December day that his son married a Ukrainian woman and that it used to snow more often in Tbilisi.

What caught my attention most were his hands and eyes. He spoke with a joy and his eyes lit up in his 50 year old face, like those of a young person as he especially talking about his family or my “babies”. Then I looked at his hands. They looked like those of someone that had spent a large potion of his life working with them in the frigid cold.

As Boris drove northeast into the Caucus Mountains, his sedan passed mile upon mile of idling 18 wheelers. A large amount of Turkish, European, and Georgian produce and products pass along this mountain highway into Russia . . . when the border is open and highways were passable. The last ten days had delivered steady snow.

A Weather Window

The unpredictability of weather favored this sojourn. Our Aussi friends Robyn and Izzy arrived a week earlier with their two daughters and praised all the snow constantly falling in Gudauri. Fortunately Boris dropped us off when the 18 wheelers were off the road and not allowed to drive over the pass. Tourists were sparse at the frontend of the snow season with fresh snow.

Once we dropped off our bags in the Atrium, literally next to the gondola and slopes, Nadine eagerly walked down the fresh powder in running shoes to buy two-day lift tickets for all six of us for the unbeatable price of $100! Our equipment rental cost more than that. This was a replay of my first visits to super affordable Czech Republic in 2000 and 2001. Gudauri was considered the most expensive place in Georgia.

Floating in Her Element

Gudauri was Nadine’s opportunity to share her passion with her children. For the first morning in a long time, I didn’t have to ask the kids to get ready on their own, I struggled to keep up with them.

Nadine always skies effortlessly. Now, like a momma duck, she taught her little ducklings how to glide across the frozen snow under white capped mountains. Her cup was overflowing.

Given the small amount we paid for lift tickets, it wouldn’t be surprising to assume that the facilities would be stereotypical Eastern European, former Soviet Russia quality. The facilities were first-class, like inflated Colorado style prices. The only knock was the lack of signage on the mountain. If that was the worst part, that wouldn’t be too bad for a ski holiday during a pandemic and the unpredictability of snow.

Fight Night

Like the hot air balloons that soar above Cappadocia, the Gudauri skies always had hang gliders. Like the Georgian semisweet wine, the chance to jump off the edge of snow peaked Ural Mountains was popular choice, but unlike Gudauri skiing, it’s not cheap.

According to the news that night, and unbeknownst to us in real time, a fight broke out on top of the Gudauri mountain. Apparently, an ongoing dispute between Georgian and Russian hang gliding pilots came to a head. Towards the end of the day, high atop one of the beautiful ski lifts buried in snow, a large fight broke out that left many people injured. Police were unable to close in quickly as they could only go as fast as the ski lift would carry them.

Dumpling, How Do the Like Those Dumplings?

Before coming to Tbilisi, the only reference to food and drink was “Georgia wine, it’s so good!” But after nine days, there is more than semi-sweet red wine. Don’t get me wrong, that was good too with its own benefits.

Dom’s love for khachipuri lazuli and khachipuri adjaruli lasted the entire trip. He ordered it every time. Georgia also introduced us to the two liter bottle of beer. Never bought one, but it gives new meaning to, “Honey, I’m only going to have one tonight.”

Another food Georgia does really well are dumplings. When I hear “dumpling”, I think of a Mom back home in Texas talking to their daughter, or either as a popular Chinese dish. Georgians prepared them with cheese, meat, various vegetables, and across the board delicious.

One day heading down the gondola with Momo, I started talk with a women who spoke with an American East Coast accent. She worked as marketing executive for Calvin Klein underwear. I asked if they were looking for any 44 year old, graying and aging Texas male models. That wasn’t their key demographic right now. I came to find out that Maria Niña was born in Georgia, but moved to Ireland at a young age. Maria was back visiting family for Christmas. Her grandfather, maybe his name was Boris too, drove her and her niece up to Gudauri to ski for a bit. But along the way, “my grandpa stopped at his favorite dumpling restaurant in the country, The Cave.”

The Cave, translation to Georgian, was an unassuming, bleak hole of a restaurant between the mouths of Gudauri and Tbilisi, no larger than a living room with six wooden tables surrounded by worn chairs. As our family walked in, the heavy set Georgian cook – waitress – owner – master of her own kitchen with a weathered face, joyfully greeted us with a big smile. It must have been the sight of four, obviously foreign babies, looking for dumplings that caused this joy.

“We want dumplings!!!” our seven year old daughter belted out.

Glancing at the plastic menu, we asked to taste the most popular dumplings.

“They’re all popular.”

Well then, we went with the cheese, mint, and meat dumplings.

As she returned to the kitchen around the corner, a Georgian tourist guide walked in with a bottle of homemade semi-sweet red in one hand, as he held open the for his two guests, a mother daughter duo from Uzbekistan.

“Where you from?” he asked in a very happy broken English.

“United States, but we live in Doha.”

“Ohhh, would you like some of my semi-sweet red wine? From my farm.”

My mind initially thought, we’re currently in a worldwide pandemic, but a personal motto that infiltrates my beliefs, bellowed out, “Heck, it’d be rude not to accept.”

He filled up my glass with a generous amount of semi-sweet red wine. And it went down as smoothly as a Texan on skis in Ruidoso, New Mexico.

There are only two types of wine in Georgia, semi-sweet or dry. They are experts as this region is one of the oldest wine producing regions in the world (over 8,000 years). There are several benefits. One is that tour guides freely offer the fruits of their home production. Another benefit of Georgian wine is that it’s organic using natural yeasts without any additives. It’s not filtered like major wine producers, and a positive consequence, not that Nadine found me more interesting, but the fact that the wine doesn’t produce a hangover. We tested this theory nightly to test this theory, and every morning, pain free skiing.

Even though Ray Charles sang about the state of Georgia, some of the lyrics rang true about the country

Georgia
A song of you
Comes as sweet and clear
As moonlight through the pines