“The sea tells you everything will be fine. The mountains tell you it doesn’t matter anyway.”
― Adeel Ahmed Khan
A great way to practice zen is to climb aboard an old mashrutkha and release your notions of what constitutes safe driving. Swerving, dodging, weaving our way higher and higher on narrower and bumpier roads, I embraced our decision to not drive. I also had to transcend space and time in order to trust that we would get there in one piece.
The higher into the mountains we went, the more time traveled backwards. Villages on plateaus, with steep ravines and chimneys billowing smoke. Cows, grannies in black, dogs, children playing in the snow. Village life unfolding as we skidded around it.
And finally Mestia. Right by the border with Russia, the air a little sharper, the sky much bluer. Our sea legs wobbled as we took in… essentially a ski town. Time warped back to the present.
Taking our time to find a place to stay, we sleepwalked down a winding lane with “homestay” spray painted on stones. At the end of the lane was our guesthouse for 3 days, breakfast included. So what would we do for three days other than play backgammon and eat hearty mountain meals?
1. Snowboard
2. Hang out with the friendliest dogs
3. Visit the ancient Svan towers
4. Hike in Svaneti and go on a Cha Cha picnic
5. Most important of all: letting all the above happen naturally. Taking it all in (in a daze), finding humor in every encounter, appreciating Georgian hospitality and warmth, saying yes to ChaCha offered to us and saying thank you (maglobt), breathing in the fresh air and reveling in the unexpected revitalization of the mountains.
