Thursday, August 25, 2011



Lasha's (#1) father, 'Mal-khai' aka "Micha" (in the Russian pronunciation which I can actually do) picked up Lasha and I. When Lasha got into the driver seat, I immediately offered Micha the passenger seat but he kindly told me to take it. That was really nice of him because it allowed me to make a lot of videos of the journey.

I haven't gotten to talk to Micha a lot other than to find out he's been a brewer since 1996. When I speak to him (with his son interpreting) I want to be able to see his face and body language. Since it is not possible to turn my head, him being in the back seat and me in the front don't really make this possible.

We did a lot of chatting on the way to the village of Chabukiani and I video taped it.

One thing that came up somewhere in the conversation - according to Lasha #1, it is not the oldest son which moves into the house but the youngest. This contradicts what George #1 had told me about it. I'll let those two figure it out. Needless to say, only one son gets the house though my guess is that more than one may live in it if circumstances require it.


Rather than just staying on the customer side which is a pub, I was given a tour of the brewing side. Naturally, the space on my camera ran out halfway through. That irritated the shit out of me as getting to see how beer was made is interesting.

Lasha's family also employs two fierce guard dogs. These are the bark loudly as they're coming after you. This is a bit less fierce than the ones that don't give you any warning but just charge at you to bite the shit out of you. The guard dogs he has are fierce enough to keep me in check though. My personal philosophy is that when the person who owns the guard dogs tells you to get inside and they sound concerned, do not argue with them. Get your ass inside.


Lasha's mother and father are what I consider pretty well to do. Near the brewery they have built a large three story house. As a side note, I'm not sure when a house becomes a 'mansion'. I'm thinking when you start getting rooms that the normal person cannot name you've tipped into that. I can name all of these rooms so despite having a floor to myself, I'm sticking with 'house'.

I've quickly formed the opinion that Lasha's parents seem to spend most of their time at the brewery, rather than the house. The house seems to be more of a place to sleep and maybe get in some TV. Life goes on at the brewery.

Despite Lasha's instructions to wake him up when I get up, I've decided to use the time he is sleeping to catch up on my blogging as well as do some much needed research into Turkey. I've got to figure out what I want to see there. Adam was kind enough to provide me a list of what he found interesting and I've found an excellent website that seems to detail quite a lot about Turkey. So, I am working on studying that. I'm going to probably even detail my research in the blog in case someone out there has any thoughts on it to add - also for those interested in traveling in Turkey.

My goals for the village are not too well defined. I know that at some point we will be drinking plenty. I'd like to see more of the village and discover what goes on here. And the brewery.

A side note on the brewery, it is the main social thing within this village. If it had rooms for rent above it, this would completely fit into the 'tavern' mold we have all come to know and love from fantasy RPG's.

My kind hosts, Lasha's mother and father. These are warm and hospitable people.


Planning on drinking is not a Georgian thing. It just happens.


The next day, we headed over to where Lasha's grandmother as well as his aunt and uncle (the uncle works in the brewery) live. We got to see the very compacted farm they had in the back of the property. I was also taken on an excellent tour of the house by Lasha's nephew. Lasha's nephew seems like a cool kid, I wish I could understand him.

I also got a chance to ask Lasha's eighty year old grandmother a few questions. She taught biology and chemistry for forty five years including in the 'USSR' time.

She shared with me that when Georgia was part of the USSR, they had all of their required equipment to teach with. Now, not so much. She doesn't want us to think that life was better then, however. There were a lot of bribes and corruption. People would go to rot in prison for little things - including saying things that disagreed with the government.

I asked her what was the most important thing in her life. She said it was that her children and grandchildren turn out well. She never wants to see the bad of them in her lifetime.

In Georgian society, the grandparents usually live with members of their family (often, it's their house) making them an integral part of the grand kids lives. In America, this is not the case. Usually, we either ignore the old, visit them once a year or lock them away in an 'old folks home' until death finally takes them.

Her current favorite daily activity is teaching her grandchildren and TV.

I asked Lasha's grandmother if she had any advice for Americans. She responded, "What can I give you?" She only had good wishes. She said I seemed like a self educated, curious and kind person to her. Good enough for me.

After that, it started to rain so we headed back to Lasha's house so he could take in some TV. I had gotten back the internet connection wireless box thing (weird) and am working on writing this blog as well as doing some research on Turkey.


This is Lasha (#1's) nephew. He is 10 years old. This is the kind of kid who does things like make food for the family, coffee for yours truly and tries to convince me to eat more. Just like his fellow countrymen. He is probably one of the most mature ten year olds I have ever met! I'm not even sure I am as mature as he is.
I haven't found out what sort of weird skin rash thing he has but apparently the green stuff is medicine and the rash itself is not contiguous. I've been told that anyway. When I first met him, Lasha told me he was very shy. I've noticed most kids tend not to keep that way around me for long. The kid hangs out often with me. Cool kid. [TJ, if your kid turns out at least this cool, you've won.]


The Georgians' word for their own country is "Sor-Kart-Vey-Lo". I don't know why we don't call it this instead of 'Georgia'. It would keep Americans from thinking tanks are rolling on Atlanta.


Leaving Tbilisi

Georgian Driving Fun

Georgian Countryside, part 1

Georgian Countryside, part 2

Camera Love

Georgian Honking

Corn on the Cob

Honking in Action

Georgian Honky Tonk

Under Construction

Where are we going again?


Me Drinkie Beer

Tour of Lasha's House

Cleaning the Yard

Special Drink Silliness

To Grandmothers House We Go

Traditional Georgian Stockbrokers

Lady Fingers


Georgian Village House

Tour of the Village

Dining With Plague Victims

Supra 1

Supra 2

Supra 3

I found a what?

Is it contagious?

Ah, nuts...

Nut gathering

The difference between American and Georgian children...


Here is your dose if strange for the day. Thanks to John M.


  1. I think you need to get a head lamp so when you record shit you light up what you are looking at. This would increase video quality indoors for sure.

    LOL... listening to you bash the TV again... memories of Logan the Livingroon Nazi come to mind from when you lived at Al's place. Good lord.

  2. I've got a small 'head light' but it's only about bright enough to read by rather than 'light a set'. For that, I'd need a pretty big one and that is weight I don't want to lug.

    Yes, I still hate TV. But it is something to do for the unmotivated and those lacking creativity I suppose. Better than them making more babies. Like they do during (you guessed it) power outages.



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