Tbilisi
Remembering an adventurous trip to Soviet Georgia
We crowded into
our small seals on
another run
down Aeroflot
airplane, bound
for Leningrad, our
faces toward the
windows, silent.
What was there to say? We were
leaving Georgia. We searched
through the little plastic windows
for a glimpse of the mountains -
the beautiful brown and green
mountains that surround Tbilisi -
or the people who smiled so read
ily, with their big, dark, honest
looking eyes.
We saw the grey runway in
stead; our view blocked by the
outdated airport, and our thoughts
turned to Leningrad Another city.
we thought, like Moscow. Huge,
block-shaped grey buildings. Ltfe
less faces. No color. Herds of
people shuffling along the city
streets, each one mucn like the
other. Just living.
How strange, we thought, that
two Soviet cities could be so differ
ent. We remembered our initial
shock seeing Tbilisi for the first
time. It had taken only 2 1/2 hours
to get from Moscow to Georgia,
ana yet the small republic seemed
like an entirely different country.
The Georgians, we had learned,
insisted that it was.
On our bus ride from a Georgian
airport into the republic’s capital
city of Tbilisi, our tour guide Lolly
asked a question that threw us off
guard.
"When you take history classes
about the Soviet Union, do you
learn the history of the Soviet Un
ion, or do you learn the history of
Russia?”
We had never really thought
about it. We supposed Russia.
Lolly asserted that the difference
is like night and day.
blaring out the bus windows,
we began to see that Tbilisi indeed
was different. Very different.
Street signs were written first in
Georgian, then in Russian. The
houses were painted in colorful
pastels; pink, light green, yellow
and sky blue -- unlike the huge,
pale white mass-housing units in
Moscow. The buildings were
shapely, influenced by Italian
architecture, and were very old.
In Moscow we saw few cars.
Here, they were everywhere; rac
ing through the middle of intersec
tions at high speed, horns blasting
continuously. The constant action,
the beautiful colors, and the warm
Georgian sun gave life to the city.
Moscow, we thought, seemed
very far away.
From the street, Georgians
stared up into the bus full of Ameri
cans. They smiled and waved
while looking curiously at the for
eigners. We were surprised by their
friendly gestures. On the streets of
Moscow most people fi owned -- if
they took any interest at all.
Lolly explained that Georgia is
an ancient country; its roots date
back to the third century. There are
5.7 million people in the republic,
66 percent of whom are native
Georgians, she said. The rest of the
population consists mostly of Rus
sians, but includes people of sev
eral other Soviet nationalities.
While others in the group of
mostly Kearney State College stu
dents spent the next three days
touring, we -- two student journal
ists from the University of Ne
braska-Lincoln — went on alternate
excursions, searching for people
able to tell us about the current
situation in Georgia.
we tirsi interviewed fcka and
Eka, two translators from Tbilisi’s
Institute of Foreign Languages
Like all Soviets, Eka and Eka
worked for the government. Like
many Georgians, however, they
paid little attention to the possible
ramifications of speaking out
against their leaders in Moscow.
Our first night in Tbilisi, Eka and
Eka took us to a small cafe in an
older section of Tbilisi. The cafe,
named the “Boomerang,” was a
popular night spot for young
adults.
Our short stay at the Boomerang
would be the first of many strange
experiences in Tbilisi and typified
the cautious reactions many older
Georgians had toward outspoken
nationalists.
As Eka and Eka described the
events leading up to the April 9th
demonstration, which spawned
worldwide concern over the na
tionality question in the Soviet
Union, the small crowd in the cafe
began to take interest in the two
young American women with tape
recorders and steno notebooks.
seeing the attention our conver
sation had attracted, an old Geor
gian woman came to our table and
announced that the cafe would be
closing — an hour before it was
supposed to.
Later it became obvious that the
old woman had been frightened by
our open discussion of Georgia’s
problems, and had closed the cafe
early to avoid trouble.
We continued our discussion
outside, walking the streets of
Tbilisi. We listened to Eka and Eka
describe why many Georgians
want their freedom; how the gov
ernment has too much control over
the republic’s economy, how Rus
sians want Georgians to stop their
separatist, rebellious behavior and
help support the rest of the court-1
try.
They asked about America. Did!
we live with our parents? Did w«3
have our own cars? Was it expenJ
sive to come to the Soviet UnionjP
Were we married? Were we Chrtffe
tians?
Religion, they explained, is ver^i
much a part of Georgian life. Botfl
women said they visited Georgiarn
Orthodox churches several times al
week, as do many others in thel
republic.
i ney said that because housing
is scarce, they continue to live with
their parents and probably will
until they are married. They com
plained about the shortages of
many basic necessities, especially
clothing, though they dressed bel
ter than most Muscovites we’d
seen. We continued the conversa
tion until late that evening, and
promised to meet again the next
day.
The following morning, Lolly,
Eka and Eka took our group to
Georgia’s ancient capital, where
the republic’s oldest church, built
in the fourth century, stands intact.
The church, surrounded by
ancient ruins and built on the edge
of a steep hill, overlooks the vil
lage. Inside, a small group of
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