Don Curry sleeps in a pub

On this morning, Don Curry realized how lucky he had been with the weather in the last few days. Because the most beautiful panoramic window is of little use if the mountain to be admired is covered in clouds, like today. But Don Curry had already seen enough of its grandeur and treated himself to a break at Kazbegi.

For this, he wanted to test whether his favorite restaurant in Stepanzminda can also convince with breakfast. There would be no opportunity for lunch on his long route today, nor was there any guarantee for dinner, so he wanted to at least secure one meal a day. His chacha waiter was not on duty in the morning, so this task had to be taken over by the bartender, who immediately brought Don Curry the menu - but the evening menu. Maybe he wasn't fully awake yet, but he quickly noticed his mistake. The breakfast menu was much shorter: it offered a total of 5 options. However, since all 3 of Don Curry's favorite breakfast dishes were among these options, he was more than happy: Egg's Benedict, French Toast, and Shakshuka. So there would be a totally un-Georgian breakfast; Don Curry decided on Shakshuka, poached eggs in spicy tomato-pepper stew with flatbread. When he wanted to order coffee and juice for breakfast, the surprising answer was: we don't have either; Don Curry could get tea and a lemonade. Okay, Don Curry thought, there is still room for improvement in terms of customer-oriented service, but he was also convinced of the kitchen's performance in the morning: an excellent shashuka with freshly baked crispy lavash, accompanied by a full-bodied tea served in an elegant glass carafe.

After being strengthened, Don Curry could confidently continue on his way. Actually, he wanted to drive up to the Holy Trinity Church again today to get much closer to the summit of Kazbegi, but since the mountain was increasingly covered in clouds, Don Curry saved himself the effort. He also canceled the trip to the Truso Valley, which was actually to be made up for, because he spontaneously discovered another exciting option. Right at the beginning of the valley, a cable car transports guests up into the mountains in both winter and summer: in winter for skiing, in summer for photography and hiking. So Don Curry let himself be gently swayed up to the Kobi Pass at a height of 2946 m in almost glass cabins. Unfortunately, the approaching clouds were already visible here, so that the view into the valley on both sides was good, but only small sections between the clouds of the surrounding giant mountains could be seen.

Now there was only one item left on the agenda: the drive to Khevsureti, another hard-to-reach region of the Georgian Caucasus, where also a special people live, the Khevsurs, who wore medieval chainmail in conflicts until the beginning of the 20th century. Approximately half of the journey can be easily covered on freshly asphalted roads, but as soon as it goes into the mountains, Xerra had to prove herself as the queen of tracks again. However, this route does not meet the high demands of the Abano Pass. The Bear Cross Pass to be overcome here is 2767 m high and does not require so many hairpin bends; in addition, the lane is overall wider and secured with guard posts in most places. However, today the deteriorating weather added to the difficulty. Shortly after conquering the pass, rain set in, which was to accompany Don Curry to his destination.

Originally, he had wanted to continue driving until the end of the road in Mutso, but since it was already after 6 p.m. when he reached Shatili and the rain did not let up, Don Curry postponed the one-hour drive until tomorrow. In Shatili, Don Curry had booked a room in Jurkha's Tower-Museum, but how should he find it. There were no street names or house numbers. He took a few steps through the village and soon realized that the main road in the middle was blocked for through traffic. He found no signs. So he called the contact number of the landlord. A young female voice explained to him in good English that he had to drive to the end of the modern village, where the 'Castles' stood: So Don Curry returned to Xerra and discovered that two chickens had already discovered the car as a welcome shelter from the rain and had made themselves comfortable underneath it. Unfortunately, he had to disappoint them now as he drove past Shatili on a bypass road to the area of the original village. Just like in Tusheti and Svaneti, the local population also built fortress-like buildings here in order to better defend and protect themselves in case of attacks. However, the Khevsurs built more in width than in height; their buildings have the same extremely low entrances and few windows as those of the other peoples.

One of the buildings housed the Café Firefly, something like the trendy meeting place for tourists in Shatili. Don Curry entered the quaintly decorated dining room and asked where Jurkha's Tower could be found. The host, a type of late hippie, explained to him that it was right next door and that he would inform the landlord. Then he brought a chair for Don Curry because all the seating options were already occupied. Don Curry happened to hear that some tourists were asking the landlord about dinner. He regretted that the cook had left Chewsureti early because of the rain - two pieces of information that Don Curry did not like at all. A few minutes later, a woman with a headscarf entered, whom the host introduced as the landlady. She showed Don Curry the 1 m high entrance to the building and his room inside, which obviously directly adjoined the neighboring café. Through another 1 m passage, he reached a kind of living room with ancient furniture and utensils, thus the 'museum', and behind it, another dwarf passage led to a wooden balcony overlooking a 50 m deep cliff. The toilet was in the basement. The woman energetically pointed out two other doors, but since she only spoke Georgian and Russian (and perhaps Khevsur), Don Curry could not understand what she meant. Since he also had more questions, the woman finally called her daughter, with whom Don Curry had already communicated earlier. The daughter explained that the other two rooms were also occupied tonight and that he could pay immediately or at his desired time tomorrow. Don Curry wanted to pay immediately and asked for a vegetarian dinner. The young woman said she would ask her mother. So Don Curry handed the phone back. The mother first accepted the money and then dragged Don Curry back to Café Firefly. There she asked the host about dinner. Actually, Don Curry knew that this question would be in vain, but at the keyword 'vegetarian', the host got ideas. He promised to prepare something himself. The mother with the headscarf said goodbye satisfied and Don Curry walked through the rain-drenched old Shatili, taking pictures, but had to be very careful not to slip on the uneven stones everywhere.

At his desired time, Don Curry found a free table made of construction timber and makeshift benches. Sitting right at the bar was a Swiss couple who also enjoyed a vegetarian dinner, just like Don Curry. First, a very large plate of tomato salad was served to him, accompanied by freshly toasted white bread, and then a mixture of grated potatoes with lots of cheese and leeks, fried together in a pan. The Swiss immediately called it 'Röschti', but the host insisted that it was an old Georgian recipe. In any case, everything was really delicious; Don Curry even got the famous Svanetian spice salt with his salad. He drank a Kazbegi beer with it and a chacha afterwards. The host asked him where he came from, he looked like a real Georgian. Don Curry took that as a compliment.

One of the guests was then asked to give a small concert. It turned out that he was a guitar teacher from South Korea, who had built his own guitar and was now traveling the world with it. He skillfully played some Renaissance works for guitar, including the famous 'Greensleeves'. What an irrational situation when a Korean in a Khevsurian village on the very edge of Georgia performs an English folk song for predominantly Russian listeners! Don Curry enjoyed this artistic culmination of globalization; at that moment, politics, power, and borderlines didn't matter.

Full and satisfied, he retreated to his room, only to immediately realize that there were only a few 0.5 cm thick boards between the room and the café; even the only window of his room directly faced the dining room - from there, light constantly came in. Well, that probably won't take much longer, Don Curry thought. In fact, he soon heard the Swiss leaving, and half an hour later, the two Russian couples who had occupied the other rooms in Jurkha's Tower also left. But suddenly a large group of young Georgians stormed into the café and felt like celebrating. They called for chacha, and soon the glasses clinked while the host played Georgian pop music. After a short time, the guests requested particularly cheerful pop songs, which they sang along with full voice and mostly good voices. So Don Curry got a second unexpected concert here, although much louder. Glasses clinked together again and again, the next chacha was ordered. Around 1:30 a.m., the host probably made a final decision and the music and singing faded away; but the young people still had a lot to talk and laugh about. Shortly after 3 a.m., they finally left. Finally, Don Curry sighed, hoping to finally find sleep. But now the host began to clean up his café-bar-pub. He seemed to want to do this consciously calmly and quietly, but Don Curry heard every little noise. The glasses were intentionally placed directly against the wall, which adjoined Don Curry's bed. Each of them seemed to clink directly next to his ears. Then there was sweeping, some furniture was moved, a cleaning cloth was rinsed out. Don Curry wouldn't have expected this host to be so orderly. It wasn't until after 4 a.m. that the work was done, and Don Curry could finally drift off to sleep.

He had slept in a defensive tower once before, back then in Tusheti, and enjoyed the absolute silence of the night until the first birds began to chirp hesitantly in the morning. Here in Shatili, he wasn't sleeping in a defensive tower, but in an extremely loud music pub, even if only for a very short time...