Cheese, bread, and beer - Tusheti

On Sunday morning (14.07.2019), I had just finished breakfast when one of the shepherds set off into the mountains with most of his dogs and his flock. Shortly after, I was waved over to the boys' accommodation. They were busy processing the milk that had been milked in the morning. The already curdled part was skimmed off, heavily salted, and left to ripen in the cheese cellar for the next 40 days. At the end of the season, about 3 tons of sheep cheese will be produced here. The liquid is heated again over the wood fire and used as a base for a type of fresh cheese or curd and as the basis for dog food. Afterwards, a bread is baked in the hot embers of the fire. I really like all of this. In the meantime, I am served a cup of coffee here and there and get to taste all the delicious treats again. For Rango, I get some of the fatty whey that he can enjoy in the late afternoon. As it turns out, it's not his first meal. Once again, I have forgotten to secure the bread and cheese properly, which of course Big Guy takes full advantage of. Annoying, but not too bad. I was able to get bread, cheese, some smoked sheep meat, and a few onions from the shepherds. In the meantime, the sun has also come out and I can pack everything up dry and start walking for a few more kilometers around three o'clock. Once again, I have to pass a few sheepdogs, which is a very unpleasant situation, but once again it goes without any physical confrontation. Since I haven't had internet for a while, my downloaded map material is not very detailed anymore for the area and we lose our way. I decide to go down to the valley to look for our lost path, but I have no luck. So once again, we have to climb up a steep slope off the beaten track before we find a path. It took some time and effort, so I set up our camp after having walked 9 kilometers against seven o'clock on a mountain meadow. I cook a nutritious soup for dinner from some meat, onions, cheese, and bread before I go to bed.

The night until Monday was calm, but not quite as relaxing as usual. The shepherds' stories about bears and wolves do leave their mark. It is around half past eleven when we finally start walking again. After two and a half hours, we reach a kind of road and the danger of getting off track seems to be averted for now. Unfortunately, I walked in the wrong direction on the road and have to follow a shortcut between two small villages to get back on track. In the first settlements for over 4 days, only two men can be found, otherwise the houses are empty and partly dilapidated. Nevertheless, the walls made of flat stones impress. After I had to take off my shoes to cross a stream, I take a little break on the shady bank and enjoy a cheese sandwich. Then we continue hiking and around three o'clock we are approached by a local and invited to his village. For this, we have to climb a mountain for about 2 km, but a cup of coffee is tempting. We arrive in the small settlement around four o'clock and can make ourselves comfortable on Koba's terrace. I am offered a coffee and some dishes. I am invited to stay overnight. Since the boys plan to brew beer, I am happy to stay, watch the process, and lend a hand here and there. Grains are roasted and a copper kettle, several hundred years old and riveted from small sheet metal segments, is prepared for the brew. In the meantime, Koba shows me his village Iliurta and tells me more about the history of Tusheti. The man is well-read and can provide detailed information about architecture, customs, culture, religion, conflicts with neighboring peoples, and the peculiarities of the local phenotype. Some wood also has to be chopped on the side and there is plenty of bread, vegetables, and cheese to eat. The boys also indulge in wine, beer, and cha-cha. They sing late into the night and for every glass they drink, a toast is made, with everyone in the group having to contribute at some point. It's well past midnight when we go to bed.

The next morning, I sleep a little longer than Koba and the rest of the group. When I check in at the copper kettle in the late morning, the wood fire is already burning and the brew is brewing. Smells very good. During the day, we taste, stir, and otherwise eat and drink. My hosts consume liters of wine throughout the day. I am invited to linger a little longer and decide to extend my stay for another night. At noon, a group of students arrived in Iliurta. Gradually, they appear at the only drinking water source in the village and are promptly invited to the table by Koba and served a glass. By now, I have been given a Georgian name - Kucha. It sounds somewhat remotely like "German" and is considered suitable. I can live with that. So the day passes in a flash among new Tushetian friends.