Liam Levitz
Welcome to Georgia - Part 1
‘Georgia in 13th century, it very strong. Since then, well, not so good.’
And with that one sentence my tour guide (if you can call a half drunk taxi driver who refused to get out of his car a tour guide) summed up Georgia for me.
Maybe I should elaborate a little more than my guide was willing to do though? Give a little context and scenario for the shots that are coming up soon?
Well, for those of you who don’t know, Georgia is a post war country: to be more precise, a post war, post-soviet country with a dubious record in democratic accountability and a recent history of military conflict. Its charms also include a not inconsiderable crime rate, breakaway regions riven with political and military tensions and an economy that some say is in terminal decline. The major cities replete with power-cuts and failing infrastructure are dazed mixes of dilapidated grandeur and the ever enduring if never appealing concrete forests of the soviet era housing schemes. Its mountain villages are said to be accessible only to the hardy traveller. Trapped as they are by almost impassable roads, a non-existent tourist trade and a general consensus that when you leave the cities the next stop is just past nowhere.
Despite all of this, Georgia is a country that I chose to travel alone into and through. It is a country that I sought out above all others during my trip. If I am honest I actually placed it at the heart of my trip, the one place I would not wish to miss out. It was to be my big adventure, the place where both angels and inadequately skilled travellers feared to tread. This was the place where my arrival would be the carefree start of my great adventure.
In reality my arrival consisted of a sweaty, confused and nervous 27-hour bus ride from the middle of Turkey to the heart of Tblisi. My arrival was no great watershed moment, instead I stepped off the bus on the grubby outskirts of the capital with no clue where I was, how to ask for help or where I was going to sleep that night. Despite all of this and despite an almost overwhelming wave of revulsion and fear upon first exposure to the torn fabric of its cities and towns, I fell in love with the place, the people and the way of life.
Frustratingly, I can never communicate through photographs the panorama of experience provided to me by Georgia. No matter how hard you may look at a shot you cannot imagine the deprivation unless you have seen it. You cannot feel the rushing culture shock as you are driven, in the most shambolic of buses through ghost towns and abandoned villages. Even worse you cannot feel the warmth of the Georgian welcome as you are ushered into another house, another bar, another café by yet another happy stranger. You cannot taste their cheese-drenched food unless it has passed your lips and clogged up your arteries. Most pertinently of all for a country that seems permanently drunk, you cannot feel the homemade wine burning a hole in your stomach as the room begins to spin and the laughter starts to build. There is no skill I possess to give any of that to anyone viewing the next round of shots.
Still, I would love if those who read this far and those who will really look at the shots to have some idea of the context of Georgia. Nothing would please me more if, when looking at the images, I could just get across some of the atmosphere, magic and sadness I felt when spending two and a half weeks with the Georgian people. If someone looking at just one of the images knew why it was the way it was that would be quite something for me. So, to help with that, and for those interested, time for a geography and history lesson…
to be cont:
Welcome to Georgia - Part 1
‘Georgia in 13th century, it very strong. Since then, well, not so good.’
And with that one sentence my tour guide (if you can call a half drunk taxi driver who refused to get out of his car a tour guide) summed up Georgia for me.
Maybe I should elaborate a little more than my guide was willing to do though? Give a little context and scenario for the shots that are coming up soon?
Well, for those of you who don’t know, Georgia is a post war country: to be more precise, a post war, post-soviet country with a dubious record in democratic accountability and a recent history of military conflict. Its charms also include a not inconsiderable crime rate, breakaway regions riven with political and military tensions and an economy that some say is in terminal decline. The major cities replete with power-cuts and failing infrastructure are dazed mixes of dilapidated grandeur and the ever enduring if never appealing concrete forests of the soviet era housing schemes. Its mountain villages are said to be accessible only to the hardy traveller. Trapped as they are by almost impassable roads, a non-existent tourist trade and a general consensus that when you leave the cities the next stop is just past nowhere.
Despite all of this, Georgia is a country that I chose to travel alone into and through. It is a country that I sought out above all others during my trip. If I am honest I actually placed it at the heart of my trip, the one place I would not wish to miss out. It was to be my big adventure, the place where both angels and inadequately skilled travellers feared to tread. This was the place where my arrival would be the carefree start of my great adventure.
In reality my arrival consisted of a sweaty, confused and nervous 27-hour bus ride from the middle of Turkey to the heart of Tblisi. My arrival was no great watershed moment, instead I stepped off the bus on the grubby outskirts of the capital with no clue where I was, how to ask for help or where I was going to sleep that night. Despite all of this and despite an almost overwhelming wave of revulsion and fear upon first exposure to the torn fabric of its cities and towns, I fell in love with the place, the people and the way of life.
Frustratingly, I can never communicate through photographs the panorama of experience provided to me by Georgia. No matter how hard you may look at a shot you cannot imagine the deprivation unless you have seen it. You cannot feel the rushing culture shock as you are driven, in the most shambolic of buses through ghost towns and abandoned villages. Even worse you cannot feel the warmth of the Georgian welcome as you are ushered into another house, another bar, another café by yet another happy stranger. You cannot taste their cheese-drenched food unless it has passed your lips and clogged up your arteries. Most pertinently of all for a country that seems permanently drunk, you cannot feel the homemade wine burning a hole in your stomach as the room begins to spin and the laughter starts to build. There is no skill I possess to give any of that to anyone viewing the next round of shots.
Still, I would love if those who read this far and those who will really look at the shots to have some idea of the context of Georgia. Nothing would please me more if, when looking at the images, I could just get across some of the atmosphere, magic and sadness I felt when spending two and a half weeks with the Georgian people. If someone looking at just one of the images knew why it was the way it was that would be quite something for me. So, to help with that, and for those interested, time for a geography and history lesson…
to be cont: