Don Curry improvises

Don Curry is well aware that a headline like today's doesn't fit his travel ambitions at all. He would much rather delve into detailed planning and has to be careful to leave room for spontaneity and the unexpected. However, his long years of experience have shown him time and again that plans and reality don't match. But having his program for an entire week go awry has never happened to him before. But what good does it do to complain? Improvisation is called for!

That also seems to be the motto of the ladies from the hotel of the same name. Don Curry was surprised by its most unusual breakfast service. Around 9:00, he had left his room to find out where the first meal of the day would be served. No one was in sight. He knocked on the door from which the 'hotel manager' had emerged yesterday. No reaction. So he simply sat down on the veranda and enjoyed the view of Sighnaghi and the comforting warmth of the morning sun. Suddenly, a man with a tray emerged from the neighboring room. He told Don Curry that the 'lady' had instructed him to inform all the other guests that breakfast was ready in the kitchen. So Don Curry followed him into the room where he had knocked on the door. There were still two trays of Georgian breakfast delicacies on the kitchen table. One of them was for Don Curry to take. He could make himself coffee or tea in the kitchen.

Puzzled, Don Curry took his breakfast tray to his spot in the sun on the veranda. He didn't feel like making coffee, so he simply used his mineral water as a drink. A breakfast spot couldn't be more beautiful and atmospheric - the most beautiful small town in Georgia right in front of his eyes. But the culinary offerings were also quite impressive: two large herb flatbreads, a kind of unsweetened cheesecake, several sweet flatbreads, and plenty of juicy pieces of melon. And this gourmet breakfast was part of the ridiculously cheap overnight price. What a way to start the day! He wouldn't have gotten breakfast in the vacation apartment in Baku today...

Don Curry wanted to take advantage of the abundance of free time to give the Bodbe Monastery, which he had briefly visited the day before yesterday, a more thorough appreciation. This time, the strict guardian nun was not in the old church. So Don Curry was able to capture a few details of the magnificent frescoes undisturbed. He had the Georgian national saint Nino's grave all to himself as well. Many visitors had already gathered at the new basilica and in the outdoor area, including several groups of children. It would soon become restless everywhere. Don Curry decided to move on.

Xerra alerted him with a yellow warning light that she also needed breakfast: the tank was almost empty. So Don Curry searched for a gas station in the nearby town of Tsvori that offered premium gasoline. Strangely enough, all fuels cost the same, whether diesel, regular, or premium. But Don Curry didn't have time to be more irritated, as the gas station attendant drew his attention to Xerra's flat right front tire. Shortly afterwards, the person next to him also gave him the same hint. As if he didn't have enough already!, Don Curry thought.

He had already experienced this on several trips. Whether in Tunisia, Canada, Poland, the Czech Republic, or most recently in Iceland - a flat tire is one of the more common disruptions to vacation pleasure. Sometimes he had to change the tire himself, sometimes he had to call for professional help - especially in Iceland, where the spare tire was just as flat as the one that needed to be changed. But what should he do here? Of course, ask Platon.

This time, Platon was not helpful. He didn't know of any workshop in the town. Don Curry should just ask around to find out where he could get help. Since the gas station was located on an expressway, Don Curry had noticed the numerous small shops selling car accessories and the like. He drove back along the road a little slower and discovered several providers who had something to do with tires. One even seemed to deal with ancient tires, which Don Curry definitely didn't want to go to. So he stopped at a relatively large modern store that offered various tires, motor oils, and similar items. The two operators of the store immediately noticed Xerra's problem but couldn't help; they weren't a workshop. Don Curry should drive back 100 m, that's where he would find the right place. Don Curry drove the 100 m - and was in front of the supposed used tire dealer that he definitely didn't want to go to. He entered the store and suddenly felt like he was in a medieval wooden hut. Everything looked sooty and dirty. Light only came through the open door into the small room. A totally worn-out sofa stood slanted right in the middle, somewhat usable with some scraps of former blankets. From there, one could watch an ancient tube television, which was probably running continuously. Don Curry couldn't tell whether it was already a color television. The rest of the hut was filled with some tools, a huge water tub, and dozens of worn-out tires. The man on the sofa was in conversation with an older man who could possibly be a customer, it just remained to be seen for what. When Don Curry wanted to explain his or rather Xerra's problem, he immediately noticed that neither of them understood or spoke English. That was no good, he thought.

But the shop owner groaned audibly, got up from the sofa, and went outside with the other man to Xerra. Expertly, one of them loosened all the nuts of the deflated wheel while the other brought a jack into play. Then the wheel was removed, and Don Curry recognized from the older man's groaning that Xerra had some pretty heavy wheels. The owner filled the tire with air vigorously, then it was hoisted up into the water tub. The two watched the tire with a trained eye as it was slowly turned. Then the older man grabbed pliers and pulled out a bent nail from the tire. The culprit had been found! Now the owner fetched the appropriate repair kit from somewhere and carefully applied it to the right spot. The most elaborate part was to rebalance the wheel. However, there was a digital device ready in another corner that Don Curry would never have expected in this shabby shed. After about an hour, Xerra had all her wheels again. The older assistant simply drove away shortly before the repair was completed. Don Curry asked with a typical gesture how much he had to pay now. The shop owner grabbed a piece of chalk lying around somewhere and wrote a number on a cupboard: 15. He actually wanted 15 lari for the almost one-hour repair, including materials and the labor of two men. 15 lari is about €5. Don Curry briefly considered simply paying 100 lari but also didn't want to embarrass anyone with tourist extravagance. So he paid 50 lari (= €17.50) and was more than happy to have solved the tire problem so quickly and effortlessly. And once again, Don Curry had to learn that even in business, appearances can be deceiving. Even in the simplest hut, extreme competence can be found.

With a full tank and full tires, Xerra and Don Curry set off towards their next destination: the Nekresi Monastery, which is located high in the southern foothills of the Caucasus and is one of the oldest surviving monastery complexes in not only Georgia. The first church, which partly still stands, dates back to the 4th century, shortly after the Christianization of Georgia. Don Curry's approach ended about 2 km before the monastery at a barrier. He had learned from the grumpy guardian monk in Gurjaani that it can be worth driving boldly to the gate or barrier; then you will be let through. But here, there was no monk on guard, but a gatekeeper who communicated Don Curry's next steps in 3 English words: 'Bus. Ticket. Parking.' Of course, the reverse order made sense. So Don Curry parked Xerra, bought a ticket for 3 lari (= €1), and waited with about 50 women and children for the next bus.

The minibus rattled and groaned up the extremely steep switchbacks and released its load at the entrance to the monastery. Several churches had settled here in the seclusion of the mountains, the oldest of which was later converted into a prince's palace. Today, it is home to numerous swallows. The main church presents itself with well-preserved frescoes, while the other two churches shine with their different architecture. Hardly had Don Curry finished his monastery visit, the minibus returned and could take him back to Xerra.

Only 12 km away lies the old fortress town of Gremi, which briefly even became the capital of the Kingdom of Kakheti. A mighty tower, some fortress buildings, and a cathedral still sit enthroned on a powerful rock, all surrounded by high walls. Except for some foundations, nothing remains of the medieval city at the foot of this fortress. Here, too, Don Curry already recognized in the parking lot that today was apparently a general outing day. Large groups of children and young people with their supervisors stormed the castle ensemble and didn't even let an atmosphere of solemn silence arise in the cathedral.

The sky gradually darkened. Since Don Curry wanted to admire the magnificent Alaverdi Monastery in full sunlight, he decided to head towards the Schuamta Monasteries instead. They are hidden in a dense forest and are impressive even without clear skies. However, it started pouring rain during the drive. Nevertheless, Don Curry continued until he reached the Old Schuamta Monastery. There were no crowds of visitors here; he had the parking lot all to himself. However, he had to wait in the car for about 20 minutes until the downpour subsided a bit. Then he trudged the approximately 200 m down to the ancient monastery complex, which consists of three churches: one from the 5th century, one from the 7th century, and the third from the 7th or 8th century - all built in different architectural styles, making it almost an open-air museum of architectural history. The monastery was abandoned 400 years ago when the New Schuamta was built. It was only 80 years ago that the forgotten churches in the deep forest were discovered and restored. Don Curry felt almost like an explorer, all alone with these three venerable buildings. As he made his way back to Xerra, he met a group of children with their supervisors, while the rain intensified again.

For now, he decided to forego New Schuamta and drove towards his hotel for the evening. Yesterday, he had chosen 'The Wine Hotel' from the large selection in Telavi. Although it was located on the outskirts of Telavi, it scored points with its own balcony and panoramic views of the Caucasus. When checking in, Don Curry spotted a billboard for the hotel's own wines: a liter for only €3.30 each. He already knew the first two grape varieties, a white wine and a red wine. But what was the third one, something with 'Vo...'? 'That's Chacha, vodka,' said the man at the reception desk with a smile. A liter of vodka for €3.30??? The local ophthalmologists must be happy about that, thought Don Curry, and didn't make a self-experiment. Instead, he ordered 1 liter of Saperavi, the most famous red wine in Georgia. 'Please follow me to the wine cellar,' invited the hotel employee. Don Curry didn't need to be told twice. Georgian wine cellars are categorically different from all other wine cellars in the world. While large wooden barrels or aluminum tanks are stored everywhere else, Georgian wine cellars have mainly one thing for thousands of years: holes in the ground. The qvevri, huge clay jars that can hold several hundred to several thousand liters of wine, are embedded in the ground. This special storage gives Georgian wines their uniqueness. After aging in the qvevri, the wines are nowadays transferred to aluminum tanks, the wine hotel employee explained. And so, he tapped the liter of Saperavi into a plastic bottle and handed it to Don Curry. He had a lot more explained to him about Georgian wine, then asked for a restaurant tip for his dinner and checked into his room on the 3rd floor - with a balcony and panoramic view of the Caucasus under rainy clouds.

The hotel receptionist's recommendation had been clear: Don Curry should visit the restaurant 'Kapeloni'. It is located right in the city center, directly next to the King's Palace of Telavi. Don Curry quickly found a good spot on the veranda and studied the extensive menu. By now, he had learned that you don't order complete meals in Georgian restaurants, but you have to assemble all the components of your desired meal individually. Typically, the order is placed for the entire table so that everyone can help themselves to what they particularly like afterwards; accordingly, the portions are generously sized because they are supposed to satisfy several people. However, this concept becomes a problem for a solo diner. They will inevitably fail at the served quantity. And Don Curry learned something else: there are no separate courses in Georgian restaurants. Whatever is ready is brought to the table; then the potatoes and salad come just before the appetizer. In the stomach, everything ends up together anyway...

Don Curry selected some classics of Georgian cuisine from the huge selection: beef soup kharcho, grilled chicken, veal kebab, Georgian fried potatoes 'ojakhuri', tomato-cucumber salad with walnuts, a basket of bread, and - on the recommendation of the waitress - a pomegranate sauce. The only beer on offer was the 'Paulaner' brewed in Georgia; Don Curry chose the 'unfiltered' one on tap. The ordered dishes quickly and in an unpredictable order ended up on his table. At a neighboring table, three older German ladies had now settled in and audibly expressed their concern about the many delicious dishes on Don Curry's table. But he had missed lunch and could actually eat a large part of what was served because everything was incredibly tasty and flavorful. Georgian dishes are often rather subtly seasoned, but everything was right at 'Kapeloni'. He had to pay just over €20 for his entire table-filling meal and was more than satisfied. Afterwards, he strolled around Telavi's city center a bit, then returned to the hotel, opened the Saperavi, and enjoyed the wonderful red wine on his balcony with a view of the Caucasus. Can one dive even deeper into Georgia?

What a day! From a self-service breakfast with a view of Sighnaghi to a Georgian culinary fireworks display in Telavi. In between, flat tires and overcrowded sights. But overall, a very positive day that Don Curry could not have planned any better. Sometimes, a little improvisation is allowed...