Mestia, first attempt

The region of Svaneti is known for it's centuries-old stone watch towers perched on dramatic mountainsides and scenic river valleys.

First morning, cautiously optimistic.

We wanted something rustic. We chose a guesthouse that had it's charms and proceeded with great enthusiasm. When the pipes in our bathroom burst upon arrival, we didn't even bat an eyelash. When the blankets on our beds were damp, we just warmed them on the electric radiators and snuggled in. No lamps? No biggie. No hooks, closets or hangers? No problem. No insulation on the walls or windows? We're Northerners!

But when, after two nights, the power had been off more than it had been on, we felt it was time to rethink our situation. No power meant not only no lights (& internet!), but also no hot water, and no heat. For a family spending days out in the snow this was not a sustainable condition for a week's time.

The girls made a Svan snowman with our hosts.

Our gracious novice hosts, still in their first year.

We plan to return in summer, when loss of power is less dire.

In the end we relocated to another guesthouse in town equipped with a reliable generator. Word to the wise: this is a thing in Mestia.

But with that said, we had a sweet and lovely time with these hardworking Georgians--and that's not an adjective I use lightly. All of our food was prepared from scratch from animals found onsite and other strictly local resources. Meals featured fresh milk, cheese, eggs, yogurt, homebaked bread and other baked goods, as well as hot soups, stews, and wintery salads.

We could not have eaten better. We lacked only for more space in our bellies.

In search of a winter wonderland

After the descent to the 7th circle of Dante's Inferno that was Traveling A Budget Airline Out Of Tbilisi, we made a unanimous decision to stay in country this holiday season.

Being Northerners, we crave a cold snowy winter, which can be hard to come by in town, so we set off for a remote mountainous corner of Georgia where the Svans have been living (in relative isolation) for centuries, Svaneti.

There is only one driveable road to the village of Mestia in winter, and it passes through a winding, landslide-prone river valley. The final two hours of our day-long drive stretched to four as we crept through the snow. We felt grateful for the umpteenth time that we had heeded the advice of our progenitors and brought a 4WD vehicle to Georgia.

Turtle Lake Ascent

We embarked on a post-Christmas adventure to the nearest attainable peak.

Turtle Lake (Kus Tba in Georgian) is a small resevoir up on Mtatsminda Mount which overlooks Vake and Sabertalo.

There was much rejoicing at the summit

and many feats of strength and balance.

We regarded the view

and resumed course down the shaded descent.

We found remnants of fall

and groundcover edged with a delicate frost.

We kept warm through vigorous activity,

and after a while pretty much stopped worrying about warmth.

We marveled at the transformation caused by the rising sun near the lakeshore,

and decided it was just like Narnia

coming into spring.

'Tis the Season

Bonne et heureuse année

One day on a joyful walk home from school . . . (please excuse the poor quality resolution!)

Santa Lucia, 2nd year

Spectrum dynamics

Visiting the LDS Temple in Frankfurt, Germany.

In eleven years of marriage we have spent a number of anniversaries apart. This year we arranged our celebration to coincide with a business trip, so as to avoid another near-miss. It seemed like a perfect plan, but in execution proved highly problematic.

We spent a few days in Germany visiting the Christmas markets and the LDS Temple. Our time was lovely, perfect even; but at home the children were devastated by our absence, which led to profuse mourning, apparent psychological damage, and, ultimately, physical impairment. We have never seen such a breakdown among our own.

So while I was anticipating an island of peace in a hectic season, the trip for us evokes a distinct duality of both very positive and very negative emotions that coexist, and they cannot be separated. And I have been musing on that duality ever since.

Kazbegi Redux

After exactly one year we revisited Kazbegi, this time with friends and children.
Following a dark evening arrival, we awoke to bright blue skies and a thick fog hovering in the valley.

We again stayed at the Rooms Hotel, which I maintain to be the most fully realized architectural and design vision I've experienced in Georgia. It's a pure delight. The building was formerly a Soviet hotel, abandoned and stripped down to its skeleton to be later reborn as the Rooms. 

The walls are adorned with vintage posters of Soviet-era travel and propaganda, a stylish nod to the past. Here the girls impress us with their burgeoning proficiency in the Georgian alphabet.

Upon arrival we were greeted with a delightful surprise: we were "Guests of the Day" (surely a first for our rowdy bunch) and therefore entitled to an even nicer room at an extra nice low price. 

Breakfast was, as usual, exquisite. 

An artful array of color, flavor, and variety,

showcasing the local specialties.

We finished every drop. And lingered. It helped that the breakfast buffet stays open till noon (for once the Georgian penchant for sleeping in quite literally bears fruit!).

Throughout breakfast we intermittently wandered out on the veranda to take in the fresh mountain air and witness the thick low fog creep from the valley.

At first it was a slow swelling,

but as we lingered, it gained speed and was soon rushing past like a great white river,

the banks of which rose until even Mount Kazbegi dissolved from sight.

In the end we could see nothing but white in every direction.

On the drive home we were accompanied by our first snowfall of the season. 

The winding mountain passes were more treacherous, to be sure, but not without their rewards.