Eastern Europe Archives

Reflections on the Bosphorus

3 Comments / Ed Noble / April 20, 2026

I guess we’ve become seasoned travelers since our first visit to Istanbul in 2012. The magic and energy of this great city straddling two continents still throbs. But there was a qualitative difference in the experience this time. There has been a shift in how we experience the world as we travel, and that was brought home to me on the Bosphorus last week.

The inspiration for this trip was as an adjunct to Bonnie’s adventure in Uzbekistan with her friends. Since her flights to and from Tashkent originated in Istanbul, a couple of extra days there seemed an obvious choice. Bonnie would be off in Central Asia for a week, so I decided it was a great opportunity to have my own mini adventure in Turkey while waiting for her to join me at the end of her tour on the Silk Road. I must admit, it was a little intimidating to find myself alone in an exotic city of 20 million. Many lessons awaited.

Your First Time

It was inevitable that this trip would be somewhat colored by nostalgia. That previous visit had been 11 days of wonder and euphoric discovery. The cacophony of ordered chaos in the Grand Bazaar, the pungent scent and chromatic color of spices mounded into pyramids, soaring domes adorned with scintillating patterns of red, blue, and gold, and everywhere the mark of previous great civilizations we’d only previously encountered in books. We were enraptured. Like any great, first, passionate affair, it was going to be a hard act to follow.

So, I made a calculated decision not to revisit those moments, but rather to scratch a little deeper. In particular, I decided to spend time with Istanbul’s museums and immerse myself in the art scene. Allowed two days to be completely self-indulgent in one of the great cities of the world, I chose to wander through endless galleries of paintings and sculptures. I’m still not sure what that says about me, but no regrets. I was in my happy place.

Modernity on Display

The brand-new Istanbul Museum of Modern Art perches on the waterfront as the anchor of a new, high-end development of hotels, restaurants and shopping known as Glataport. It’s all tied together by a broad promenade perfect for strolling along the Bosphorus and pausing for a coffee. Conveniently, the city’s newest art museum sits not far from its oldest: the Istanbul Museum of Painting and Sculpture, a collection that began with the founding of Turkey’s first institute for art education in 1882. Macerating in these collections for an entire day provided a comprehensive survey of the modern history of art in Turkey and lead me to a couple insights and impressions.

Context

When the Mimar Sinan Fine Arts University was founded, Constantinople (Istanbul) was the center of the Ottoman Empire. It is with extreme self-restraint that I refrain from turning this essay into a history lecture, but in a place that has been at the center of world events for 2000 years, it’s difficult. Suffice it to say that the Ottoman empire was a Muslim caliphate that had replaced the Christian Byzantine empire 600 years earlier when Byzantium (Constantinople; Istanbul) was conquered by Mehmed II in 1453. And one of the strictures of Islamic tradition is the prohibition of any artistic expression depicting living beings. Hence, visual arts in the Islamic world have nearly always been focused on patterns of design and calligraphy, both of which, they have elevated to an astonishing level of exquisite beauty. Therefore, the founding in 1882 of a fine arts institution for the study of painting and sculpture marked a huge shift in the cultural focus for Turkish art. Most importantly, it signaled Turkey’s desire to join with Western Europe in the development of the modern world, a process that was accelerated dramatically with the founding of the Republic of Turkey by Atatürk in 1923.

All of that to say that wandering through these museums was to experience, through art, the yearning of a culture to leave its religious past and reach for the secular future envisioned by the west. It was, in some ways, a little heartbreaking to experience the striving of Turkish artists attempting to copy, in some cases literally, the European masters of the time. They had no history of painting and sculpture beyond the caligraphy and design I mentioned earlier, and as I contemplated one modest effort after another, I began to notice the dates on the work. Almost without fail, the style of the work would reflect a European development from a decade or two earlier. Paintings in the collection of Turkish “cubism”, for example, came twenty years after Braque and Picasso originated the movement and even then, they did not really seem to grasp the cubist’s core concepts. I searched all day for a truly original Turkish artist, finding very few.

The collections are comprehensive and I thoroughly enjoyed the paintings, the sculpture, and the setting. I also learned something important that will inform my future visits to such institutions. Great museum collections do not simply display genius or awesome achievement. Sometimes, they simply serve to document cultural history and reflect humanity’s journey. It turns out, there can be a sublime beauty in that.

Reunion

When Bonnie arrived, full of stories and excitement about her time in Uzbekistan, we reverted to form and went on a walking food tour along with Gloria, one of her travel companions. Due to a serendipitous last-minute change, the tour we ended up taking was a perfect fit with our sensibilities around travel these days. Billed by Culinary Backstreets as “far from the tourist trail” we spent the day strolling the streets of a diverse neighborhood where we truly did not see another tourist anywhere. None. All day. It was glorious.

I think it is part of the baggage that comes with being “seasoned” travelers. There’s this nagging thought that you’re not experiencing the real thing. Those handicrafts you’re considering are just created to cater to people like you. Traditional dishes found on restaurant menus are still made mostly to satisfy the tourist experience. The Kurtuluş neighborhood is the antidote for this syndrome. The vendors and cafes here are not catering to anybody except their neighbors, and that knowledge freed us to enjoy every nuance of the culture and people without inhibition or cynicism. These really are the flavors, smells, and textures that define everyday Turkish cuisine and life.

One of my small moments of euphoria came in a café where yufka bread is the specialty of the house. Yufka is an extremely thin flatbread – we might call it lavash – which is cooked in a traditional tandir oven. It’s prevalent in the nomadic tribes of Central Asia because it can be rolled up and stored for travel. The dough is stretched out paper thin, draped across a pillow like implement which is then used to smack it against the inside of the oven where it cooks for a minute or two before being retrieved by a hook. The whole process takes only minutes and is repeated by these artisan bakers hundreds of times a day to supply the demand from their local customers. It’s one of those kitchens you might suspect of existing primarily to entertain the tourists. Except there are no tourists. This is their daily bread, still created the way it has been for millennia. And so it went throughout the day, from chewy ice-cream flavored with mastika to tavuk göğsü, a dessert pudding made with chicken breast, these were the authentic foods of a Turkish neighborhood with not the slightest whiff of commercial tourism. Now we’re traveling!

Back to the Old City

The next day we crossed the Golden Horn to the historic center of empires to revisit some of the most important landmarks anywhere in the world. It was here, ironically, that we met with our greatest disappointment of the trip.

Church to Mosque to Museum to ??

The Hagia Sophia is one of the most remarkable structures anywhere in the world. It was built to be the center of the Christian world in the 6^th century by the Roman emperor, Justinian the Great. To my mind, it is the greatest bit of Christian architecture ever constructed. Of course, it’s no longer a church. After eleven centuries of Christendom, Mehmed II turned Christian Byzantium into Islamic Constantinople and with it the Hagia Sophia into a mosque. To their credit, the Ottomans did not tear the thing down and replace it (as is widely practiced by religions of all stripes) but rather recognized the grandeur and beauty they had inherited with their conquest and merely added a few minarets to provide the proper accoutrements. This state of affairs lasted another 600 years until the founding of the republic and the conversion of the church-mosque, into a museum. It was in that state that we first experienced the building back in 2012 and were completely awestruck. And so, it was with great anticipation that we returned.

Turkey’s autocratic president, Recep Erdoğan, like the current US president, is determined to roll back history and undo all progress made toward an inclusive, tolerant society. In his case, that means returning to Islamic values and intolerance of others. To that end, he has declared the Hagia Sophia to once again be a mosque, limiting access. In addition, a structural renovation has been undertaken which has no apparent timeline for completion and no clearly defined objective. The result: for 50 euros you are permitted to enter only the upper-level gallery where you may peer into the gloom at enormous steel brace works filling most of the great domed interior. It was a shock. As Gloria, our travel companion said, “they should have just closed it.” I completely concurred and grieved the loss for the rest of the trip.

Perhaps that melancholy colored the rest of the sites we visited. The ornamentation of the Blue Mosque felt a little overdone, the awe of the Basilica Cistern faded soon after arrival, the Grand Bazaar seemed surprisingly like a modern commercial mall, and even the great Suleymaniye Mosque while still beautiful, felt a bit anti-climactic.

Had I become jaded by the intervening years of travel? Was I a victim of my own travel successes, or was there a more distressing cause: the need for ever greater stimulus to affect emotion – our addiction to the dopamine hit? I’m still a little unsettled by this, but I’ve adopted the most charitable interpretation for the moment. I think our focus has changed. We travel now more to experience other peoples than to collect images of landmarks. Our most cherished experiences come from time spent in places like the Kurtuluş neighborhood where we are privileged to be briefly immersed in a way of being that challenges our assumptions and comfort with the familiar. A place where we’re able to travel one more step toward a more generous understanding of all people.

To this end we travel.

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Kraków: Facing History, Embracing Hope

3 Comments / Bonnie Noble / June 29, 2025

Sandy Beaches to City Streets

After an idyllic week of sun, sea, and Greek salads on the island of Kefalonia, we exchanged the relaxed warmth of sandy beaches for bustling city streets as we flew north to meet friends in Kraków, Poland. Our good friends from Sacramento, Debby and John, were planning to spend a few days in Kraków after finishing up a Budapest to Prague river cruise. And our Valencia friends, Mary and John, were also going to be in Kraków the same week. Admittedly, Kefalonia to Kraków is an unusual itinerary, but when it comes to spending time with good friends, we’re always ready for an adventure.

A Brief Slovakian Stop

The first leg of our journey began with a two-hour flight from Kefalonia to Vienna. Tempting as it was to stay a few days in the Austrian capital, our curiosity got the better of us and we hopped on a bus to cross the border into Slovakia. We had just one full day to spend in Slovakia and made the mistake of booking a “five castle tour” in the countryside outside of Bratislava, Slovakia’s capital city. While Slovakia boasts more castles per capita than anywhere in the world, we were disappointed with the tour (beginning with the fact that our guide had laryngitis). Nevertheless, Bratislava has captured our interest, and we’ve added it to our “we need to go back there” list. We’re thinking two weeks split between the urban delights of Vienna and Bratislava as well as some down time in the villages and towns of the beautiful Carpathian Mountains, along with a bit of cruising on the Danube. Maybe three weeks!

The tiny village of Čičmany (population 204) looks just like it did hundreds of years ago.

One of Travel’s Greatest Gifts

After two nights in Bratislava, we boarded a six-hour train bound for Kraków which turned out to be a highlight of the trip. We struck up a conversation with Matthew, an American who has called Poland home for the past three decades. A luthier by trade, Matthew shared stories of his four-year apprenticeship with an Italian master in Rome and his decision to specialize in crafting instruments for Medieval, Renaissance, and Baroque music (https://www.earlymusicinstruments.com/main). The hours flew by as we chatted—a perfect reminder of one of travel’s greatest gifts: the people you meet along the way.

The Square at the Heart of Krakow

Dating back to the 13^th century, Rynek Glówny, the main square at the center of Kraków’s old town, is the largest medieval square in Europe. Laid out in 1257, the square was designed to be the hub of the city, and it serves this same purpose today. Filled with medieval era buildings, horse-drawn carriages, a 14^th century brick gothic church, and more sidewalk cafés than one can count, its vibrancy feels timeless.

One half of Kraków’s Main Squareafter after a light evening rain.

A Medieval Masterpiece

St. Mary’s Basilica, a masterpiece of medieval architecture, dominates the square and the surrounding skyline. The asymmetry of the two towers catches your eye. The taller one, at 80 meters, is almost double the height of the shorter one and the explanation for this goes back to the Middle Ages.

Under the reign of Duke Boleslaus the Modest (Bolesław Wstydliwy, 1243-1279) a decision was made to add two towers to the body of the church standing by the Main Market Square. Soon two brothers embarked on the task. When the younger realised that his tower was much shorter, he murdered his brother out of envy, and the construction stopped. However, the murderer was wracked with remorse: on the day when the church was to be consecrated, he pierced his heart with the same knife he used to kill his brother, and dropped dead from the top of his tower to the ground below.

https://krakow.travel/en/artykul/117/legend-of-the-two-towers-of-st-marys

Gory legend aside, the interior of St. Mary’s Basilica, a striking example of Polish-Gothic architecture, is filled with beautiful stained-glass windows and intricate carvings. The altarpiece is one of the great masterpieces of European wood sculpture. It spans the entire length of the church’s altar and took the German artist Veit Stoss 12 years to complete in the late 15^th century. The intricately carved panels, gilded in gold leaf, depict scenes from the life of the Virgin Mary. Medieval art typically displays flat, static figures but Stoss’s carvings provide a sense of movement and life that was revolutionary for its time. It is believed that the artist used local Krakow citizens as models for the piece which contributed to the rich, detailed facial expressions that communicate a depth of emotion not generally seen in his era.

Bugle Time

Every hour, on the hour, a bugle player appears at the top of the taller of St. Mary’s Basilica towers and plays the Hejnał – a beautiful, haunting sound that echoes across the square. The tune is played four times, once in each direction, so that every corner of the city can hear it. Of course, there’s a great story behind this unusual tradition.

In the 14th century, during a Mongol invasion of Poland, a trumpeter was stationed in the tower of St. Mary’s Basilica to watch for any approaching enemies. When the Mongols began appearing at the walls of the city, the trumpeter began sounding the alarm to the four corners of Kraków. The attackers, recognizing the bugler was warning the city, began firing arrows at the tower. One found its mark piercing the bugler’s throat and cutting off the tune mid-note. In honor of his bravery and sacrifice, the Hejnał is played every hour, but the music stops mid-note, just as the trumpeter was silenced. This unfinished tune serves as a solemn reminder of that moment in history. It was moving every time we heard it and particularly poignant at the moment it stops. The music, sounding a bit like taps, is simple yet it seems to fill the city with pride.

After playing the Hejnał the bugle player waves from a window in the tower of St. Mary’s Basilica.

A Neighborhood with a Long Memory

Tucked just south of Kraków’s Old Town lies Kazimierz, the historic Jewish Quarter – a neighborhood that echoes with history and hums with creativity. While the Main Square is Kraków’s heartbeat, Kazimierz seems to be its soul. It feels lived-in and deeply human. Founded in the 14^th century as a separate town, Kazimierz became home to Kraków’s thriving Jewish community for hundreds of years. By the 16th century, it was one of the most important centers of Jewish life in Europe and it flourished with synagogues, schools, kosher bakeries, and bustling marketplaces.

That vibrant life came to a devastating halt during World War II. Under Nazi occupation, the Jewish population was forcibly relocated to the nearby Podgórze ghetto, and much of Kazimierz was emptied and left to decay. But in recent decades, the neighborhood has undergone a quiet revival that honors its history while breathing new life into its streets.

A neighborhood that’s seen it all and is still standing, there’s both a grittiness and a warmth to be felt here. Crumbling tenement buildings sit next to hipster cafés. Both modern jazz and Klezmer music can be heard in the plazas and outside the sidewalk cafes. Menorahs and Hebrew signs are etched into old walls and street art covers the alleyways. There are seven historic synagogues in Kazimierz, including the Old Synagogue, dating back to the 15th century. Moss-covered gravestones lean gently in every direction in the old Jewish cemeteries.

Across the River – Kraków’s Jewish Ghetto

A thirty minute walk across the river from Kazimierz, is a museum on the site of Oskar Schindler’s Factory. As you likely remember for Steven Spielberg’s movie “Schindler’s List” this is where more than 1200 Jewish workers were employed and protected during the Nazi occupation in WWII. The museum is dimly lit with many immersive exhibits that transport visitors into the daily life of Kraków under the Nazis.

In 1941, the Nazis moved Kraków’s Jews from Kazimierzi to an area near Schindler’s factor where they set up a ghetto in the Podgórze District of Kraków. As we walked through this area, we often felt the weight of history along with a reminder of the difference one person’s actions can make in the darkest times.

The ghetto was enclosed by a wall of barbed wire and stone. The stones used were designed to look like tombstones, but also included actual Jewish monuments and tombstones from the cemetery.

Ghetto Heroes Square in Kraków’s Podgórze district.

The heart of the Jewish ghetto established by Nazi Germany in March 1941, this square was used for deportations. Victims assembled in its western part, while looted property was stacked in the center. Executions occurred in the square and nearby courtyards. During the ghetto’s liquidation in March 1943, many elderly, sick, and unemployed residents – along with children – were shot on-site.

In 2005, the city commissioned a monument inspired by Tadeusz Pankiewicz’s memoir, The Kraków Ghetto Pharmacy. He wrote: “In Plac Zgody, an incalculable number of wardrobes, tables, sideboards and other furniture was rotting.” These words inspired an installation of oversized metal chairs, symbolizing what was left behind – and the absence of those who once sat there.

https://krakowbooking.com/blog/empty-chairs-ghetto-heroes-square

Castle on a Hill

For more than 500 years Wawel Castle was the seat of Polish royalty. Perched above the Vistula River, its blend of Gothic, Renaissance, and Baroque styles is a walk through history. The castle has been invaded, plundered, rebuilt and restored over several centuries making it a symbol of Poland’s resilience.

A Place Beyond Words

On our last day in Kraków, Debby and I took a day trip from Kraków to visit Auschwitz-Birkenau, the former Nazi concentration and extermination camps. Of course, this was a solemn, heavy, and profoundly moving experience. We walked through rows of brick barracks, stood beside barbed wire fences, and saw rooms filled with the belongings of victims – eyeglasses, shoes, suitcases, photographs.

The scale of the tragedy is overwhelming. I found myself listening, absorbing, and trying to make sense of something that defies understanding. At the end of the tour, as we walked through the vast, open space of Birkenau, I knew there was nothing to say. No right words. Only the promise to remember.

Salt Mine – Ed’s Experience

With the ladies off on their guided tour of Birkenau and Auschwitz for the day, John and I arranged a little excursion of our own to a location not far outside of Kraków – the Wieliczka Salt Mine. Now, I don’t know what you think of when you hear the term “salt mine,” but I am pretty sure whatever you’re imagining will fall short of this place.

First, you must understand that salt is a mineral, meaning it can form rock like any other mineral. The resulting rock is relatively soft, but stable, nonetheless. So, imagine a salt mountain – maybe the size say of Mount Tamalpais – except below the earth. And when I say a salt mountain, I mean solid salt – not veins of salt through granite, not pockets of salt, solid salt. There is apparently nothing like it anywhere else in the world.

Sometime in the 11^th century, people began to mine this underground salt mountain. That is, they began chipping away at it, pulling up big, huge chunks of salt rock to process into smaller crystals of salt for all the typical uses – preserving food, seasoning, etc. This was an extremely valuable commodity. By the 14^th century, the saltworks at Wieliczka had become such an important part of the Polish economy that King Casimir the Great began to take a very active interest, building a hospital for the miners and generally providing for their care. To be a salt miner became a revered and honored trade. Kraków became a wealthy and prosperous city.

Now imagine the network of tunnels, chambers, and caverns that would result from 900 years of continuous labor, invention, and technological development. Trust me, you can’t. Nine centuries of digging and hauling, non-stop. The mine reaches a depth of almost 1100 feet with 178 miles of tunnels and passages. And everywhere it is solid salt. John and I walked 2 ½ miles of tunnels and descended almost 800 steps to a depth of 450 feet over three hours. We covered less than 2% of the mine. It is an unimaginable labyrinth.

Down in the mine, it’s a fairytale land of exotic caverns, underground lakes, and salt sculptures. It seems that as the mine became more and more celebrated, the miners began to decorate their pride and joy. Eventually, the mine came to include chambers for music, for worship, a tavern, and a theater – all carved from the salt. Crystal chandeliers hang in some caverns; the crystals all made of pure salt. The floors of formal spaces are polished salt, carved to resemble floor tiles.

Crystals in the chandeliers are made of pure salt.

In 1978, when UNESCO began attempting to identify and preserve the world’s great heritage sites, this mine was on the first page. Very appropriately so.

Kielbasa and Much More

Other than kielbasa, I didn’t know what to expect when it came to food in Kraków and I was pleasantly surprised. Every meal felt like a discovery and while Polish cuisine is rooted in tradition, in Kraków it’s served with creativity, care, and more than a few delicious surprises.

Pierogi: Poland’s Most Beloved Dumplings

Let’s start with the star of the show – pierogi. These half-moon dumplings are Poland’s comfort food. The classics are Pierogi Ruskie (filled with potato, twaróg – white cheese, and sautéed onion), Pierogi z Mięsem (filled with minced pork or beef, often with onion and spices), Pierogi z Kapustą i Grzybami (filled with sauerkraut and mushrooms), Pierogi z Szpinakiem i Serem (filled with spinach and cheese pierogi). We ordered pierogi several times and found them all to be delicious. Who doesn’t love dumplings?

A Splurge

Our first night in Kraków, we treated ourselves to dinner at a Michelin starred restaurant – Pod Noseum (https://kanonicza22.com/restauracja/). We splurged on the starter, sharing a tin of Oscietra (also called Ossetra), one of the world’s most prized (and expensive) Russian caviars served with blini, quail egg, and crème fraîche. While champagne or vodka are the traditional pairings for caviar, we enjoyed it with a smokey Islay whiskey. Disclaimer: I did confirm that it is now harvested sustainably from sturgeon who are raised in wild river fields and aquacultures.

Pink Soup – Hot or Cold?

Ed’s first course at Pod Noseum was Chłodnik, Poland’s cold beet soup. It was a vibrant magenta color dotted with herbs and a halved quail egg. The next day, on a walking food tour, we were served Barszcz which is a warm beet soup that’s earthy and slightly sweet. Hot or cold, both were delicious!

Street Food

Sold on Kraków’s main square for well over 600 years, obwarzanek is a sort of bagel meets pretzel. A chewy, braided dough ring sprinkled with salt, poppy or sesame seeds, obwarzanki are sold from blue rolling carts on street corners all over Kraków. Claimed to be the predecessor of the bagel, it was invented by Cracovian Jews. With a sell-by-date of about three hours, the bakers of Kraków are kept busy producing up to 200,000 obwarzanki per day in the summer.

Pączki are plump, pillow soft donuts that are traditionally filled with rose petal jam. Yum! This wonderful Polish pastry is so popular it has its own holiday (Tłusty Czwartek or Paczki Day) which is celebrated before Lent and involves binge-eating paczki in the company of family and friends. Using up all the ingredients that can’t be eaten during Lenten fasting – lard, sugar, eggs – provides a reasonable excuse for this madness.

Papal Cake

The famous Kremówka, also known as Papal Cake, was a favorite of Pope John Paul II who was born and spent his childhood in a small town near Kraków. This “cake” is actually a dense block of vanilla cream custard sandwiched between layers of pastry and sprinkled generously with powdered sugar. Amazing!

Too Many Vodkas, Not Enough Time

Poland takes vodka seriously. There are dozens of different types, each with unique flavors and ingredients. There is traditional plain vodka made from grains (rye or wheat) or potatoes. Flavored vodkas are infused with herbs, fruits or spices with the most famous being Żubrówka or Bison Grass Vodka (our favorite!). You can also find small-batch artisanal vodkas and premium aged vodkas. With so many to try, it looks like we’ll have to return for another round or two.

Na zdrowie!

One of our favorite rituals when we travel is learning how to say “cheers” in the local language. It’s a small gesture, but it always makes a toast feel more meaningful—and more connected to where we are. In Poland, the word is “Na zdrowie!” (pronounced nah ZDROH-vyeh), which literally means “to your health.” In addition to raising your glass, the Polish toasting etiquette includes making eye contact with each person. The clink of glasses, the warmth of the spirit, sharing a table, all bring us closer to one another and remind us to live in the moment. To your health!

Holding on to Hope

Poland in the 20^th century is a compelling narrative of resilience. After literally being wiped off the map for 123 years by the Prussians, Hapsburgs, and Russians, Poles regained their independence as a nation in 1918 after WWI. Then, less than 20 years later, Poland was the first country in Europe to experience World War II and suffered the heaviest proportionate human losses – nearly 20% of its population. Of course, Poland’s occupation didn’t end when the war did. Beginning in 1945, the Soviet Union’s Red Army occupied Poland, along with much of Central and Eastern Europe, installing an authoritarian system of government. Like other Eastern Bloc countries, Poland only became a free nation again in 1989, as the fall of the Soviet Union began. The adoption of a fully democratic system, integration with NATO, and the embrace of the European Union have sparked the regeneration of a thriving Polish economy and culture that perhaps hasn’t been seen since its heyday as a salt empire.

Reflecting on all of this has helped me place our despair over the current ascendency of brutal authoritarians into some context. There is hope. Poland’s current renaissance gives testimony. The darkness is not permanent.

There will be light again, someday.

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Bohemian Rhapsody

2 Comments / Ed Noble / June 29, 2025

It seemed like an odd start to a gourmet food tour.

We met in front of a Michelin starred restaurant – one of only two in the city of Prague – where our guide for the evening waxed poetic about the marvelous things the young chef of Le Degustation was extracting from traditional Czech cuisine. My mouth was already watering. He then proceeded to direct us across the street to a particularly unpromising looking “pub” with harsh fluorescent lighting, sterile décor, and a mountain of beer mugs covering a stainless worktable.

So much for fine dining.

It turned out that Jan, our Taste of Prague guide, had an agenda beyond merely introducing us to the food and wines of Prague. He was intent on making sure we were left with a taste of the culture, history, and politics of the Czech Republic.

Where Pilsner is King

A Soviet style pub – not cozy, . . . but efficient.

And so, there we were, gathered around a simple utilitarian table, in what turned out to be a replica of a Soviet era pub – a place designed to serve the state approved menu alongside the ubiquitous pilsner that pretty much defines Czechs. This particular Lokál is basically a 240’ long hall lined with tables and stainless-steel tanks all containing one thing: Pilsner Urquell. More than 3,000 beers, with an average of nine mugs per person, according to Jan, are consumed here on a typical day of socializing and dining. The story Jan wanted to tell, however, was about much more than just beer. (Although, in Prague it is hard to find a subject more important than pilsner.)

A Short Lesson on Czech History

Czechoslovakia was under Soviet domination from 1948 to 1989 during which all property and all commercial enterprises were taken over by the state. Absurdly, the Soviets went so far as to standardize all restaurant menus throughout the country. An official cookbook was issued annually for what could be prepared and served in the commissary style diners that were the state approved restaurants for the workers. It was not, apparently, Michelin quality.

With the success of the “Velvet Revolution” in 1989, the Czechs were once again free to pursue a democratic society, and free elections were successfully held in November of 1990. In this moment, the Czechs embraced the west in every possible way, moving as far as possible from the hated totalitarian state. In the realm of food and dining, that meant creating a new restaurant scene that was at pains not to look or feel anything like the old Soviet diners. That is, until a young entrepreneur said, “Wait a minute, what if those diners had focused on quality, local ingredients? And, what if we add a little beer to the menu?” Apparently, the passage of one generation into the next is enough to create a bit of nostalgia that allows for a pseudo-Soviet ambiance to succeed if the food is great – and it is – and there is plenty of pilsner. It also provides a fitting backdrop for Jan to share his story of life as a citizen of Jewish heritage in Prague.

Castles in the Sky

Without really planning it, we found ourselves in a second former Soviet state just four weeks after visiting Georgia. The universe seems intent on opening our American eyes to the reality of today’s global politics. In fact, the whole notion of a quick jaunt to Czechia’s capital came up through a chance email we received while in Tbilisi. An organization we have been slightly involved with – Democrats Abroad – was holding a fund-raising gala in a palace at the Prague Castle complex. Attendance was merely conditional on a donation to the cause which we were happy to make. Castles? Palaces? Us? Yes!

The Prague Castle complex – Lobkowicz Palace is on the far right.

The mansion in question is known as the Lobkowicz Palace and sits at the far end of the massive complex of medieval buildings which has been the seat of power in Bohemia for more than a thousand years. The Castle was begun in the 9th century and today, among many other things, is the home of the president of the Czech Republic. Lobkowicz Palace is unique as it is the only privately owned element of the castle complex. The Lobkowicz’s have been a Bohemian noble family since the 14th century and the palace came into their possession through marriage in the 16th century. They have a heritage.

Navigating the titles and connections of European royalty is way beyond my blogger pay grade but suffice it to say that the palace fell to Maximillian Lobkowicz in the early 20th century. He was then forced to watch as the Nazis invaded his homeland in 1939 and confiscated the palace along with the rest of his family’s properties in Bohemia. Maximillian fled to London with his family where he made the gut-wrenching decision to ship his three young sons to America during the German blitz. There, they were adopted and raised by American families in the northeast. In 1945, at the end of the war, Maximillian returned and reclaimed his properties only to have them confiscated once again by Stalin in 1948. Again, the family was exiled, this time escaping to the U.S. with only their basic belongings. When the Velvet Revolution finally took place in 1989, Maximillian’s grandson, William, who was born and raised in Boston, returned to his homeland to claim his heritage. For the next 25 years he worked to put the family legacy back together and opened Lobkowicz Palace to the public as a museum and concert hall in 2007.

Our evening at the gala was an indulgence that allowed us to play act another existence for a few hours, meet new people, enjoy several live musical performances, and soak up the ambiance of an actual palace. The highlight of the evening for me was listening to Maximillian’s granddaughter recount the family’s long odyssey, including a moving tribute to the America that had defended democracy and adopted her grandfather. What an experience!

Seeing the Sights: Eyes Opened

Wandering about Prague, enjoying amazing fall weather, and gawking at the eclectic architecture, we were continuously amazed by the vibrancy of this culture. We were also regularly reminded by landmarks and monuments of the difficult, tortured history these people have endured. The thread that has tied together our experiences in Georgia with our brief time in Prague is the fragility of the democratic dream, not as a theoretical challenge, but in the real world, with real people and experiences. In Georgia, the people want desperately to be free to elect their leaders and live in a pluralistic society. That dream is being slowly crushed by a billionaire autocrat. In Czechia, the people suffered under the totalitarian Soviet system for 40 years before successfully creating a robust, tolerant, democratic society. We were blessed, in both countries, by the friendship of people, who are, or have been, on the front lines of the struggle.

Key site of the Prague Spring protests (1968) – brutally repressed by the Soviet military.

This struggle – between those who desire an inclusive, tolerant culture and those who insist on a single dominant system that excludes all “others” – has been ongoing for many hundreds of years. The amount of slaughter that has been perpetrated in the pursuit of one or the other of these ideals throughout western history is incomprehensible. Putin’s attempts to crush Ukraine’s fledgling democracy is the obvious current example. This fight has been expressed in all the wars between Christians and Muslims, the Napoleonic wars, the World Wars, and of course the Cold War. I fear we are destined to continue this legacy of human suffering and cruelty in the U.S. over the same issue.

An Early Memory

I was still a child when I began asking questions about the conflicting lessons I was being taught between Sunday school and grammar school. If Christ the King was the ideal form of government, why did we support American democracy where the people were the rulers? I could not reconcile these obviously opposing ideas and asking the adults had not produced a satisfying answer. Well, it turns out that support for U.S. democracy was conditional, and today, we are living this conflict: those that believe only a single, all-powerful theocracy will provide the orderly society they crave versus the inclusive, messy, tolerant ideals embodied by democracy.

For a pluralistic society to thrive, there must be a consensus around the benefits and value of the “system” supporting that pluralism. In the U.S. that consensus no longer exists. The MAGA project seeks to replace pluralism with an autocratic regime that does not tolerate dissent. It’s not much different from all the authoritarians that have preceded it. Nearly half of Americans support the MAGA project. Clearly, the consensus has been shattered, no matter the outcome of the 2024 election. America has entered a very dangerous period of struggle between these two competing sets of values – a conflict that has defined the bloody, violent history of western society for a thousand years. The outcome for America is far from certain. Our travels this past year have provided a glimpse of what the struggle may look like and a few of the various outcomes that are possible, some bright, some very dark.

Bonnie and I will always stand for pluralism, democracy, and rule by the people.

Our travels have also shown us that people continue to hope and endure, regardless. So shall we.

Bohemian Rhapsody Read More »

The Cradle of Wine

3 Comments / Ed Noble / March 8, 2025

“A Guest is from God”

BY BONNIE NOBLE

One of Georgia’s best known national monuments, Kartlis Deda (Mother of Georgia), stands high above Tbilisi bearing a sword in one hand and a goblet of wine in the other. She represents Georgia’s protective and welcoming attitude towards guests.

Georgian people have a saying, “A guest is from God.” Welcoming strangers is a point of pride all across the country and they spare no effort in making their guests feel content, no matter if they are close relatives or if they just met you a few minutes ago.

The supra, a traditional Georgian feast, perfectly demonstrates this culture of hospitality. The reason for gathering and the menu may change, but the purpose of a supra remains the same – communal sharing and enjoying a meal together. We experienced first hand this wonderful Georgian culture of generosity and hospitality, along with several supras!

Extraordinary Hosts

The Kakheti region of Georgia, about two-hours by car to the northeast of Tbilisi, is Georgia’s main wine-producing region. In the town of Telavi, at the home of Gia and Lika Togonidze, we had an amazing supra that epitomized Georgian hospitality. Gia is an artist and a winemaker (Togo Winery). Lika is a fabulous cook.

When we arrived, we were greeted by Gia and Lika on a lovely terrace near the entrance to their home. After a warm welcome, we were escorted to the wine cellar where Gia ferments and stores his wine. A lovely table was set for us including several Georgian appetizers and Gia poured tastings of three different wines.

Next, we were escorted inside to their dining room for the main meal where another beautiful table was set and food started appearing soon after we were seated. Georgians don’t eat in courses, rather, food is placed on the table when it is ready and always served family style. The variety, quantity, and quality of the dishes Lika prepared for us was amazing.

Georgians treat their guests much like royalty, offering food and drink every few minutes and insisting that you eat and drink as much as you possibly can. Since this was not my first supra, I kept reminding myself to be mindful about what I put on my plate and to carefully pace myself. At least my intentions were good.

The rules for a Georgian supra include several obligatory toasts by the host. It’s important to phrase these ritual toasts in a beautiful, poetic way and Gia did this perfectly. We tasted several more of Gia’s wines during our meal and each new wine required another toast.

After spending more than an hour at the dining table, we were escorted to an upper dining terrace where a third table was set for our dessert course. We were served some sort of creamy, honey, mousse like dessert that was absolutely delicious. Of course, this was accompanied by more wine and more eloquent toasts.

You might think the dessert course would conclude our supra. Nope. Next, we followed Gia downstairs to the chacha tasting room. Chacha is Georgia’s version of brandy made from grape pomace leftover from winemaking. It is clear and strong, ranging from 40-85% alcohol.

Georgians are some of the warmest, most welcoming, and laid back hosts you will ever encounter. Their generosity is matched by their genuine interest in others. They rarely take offense to anything, and drinking to excess is encouraged. Declining a drink, however, is frowned upon. We did our best to be gracious guests.

Georgia’s Future in the Balance

BY ED NOBLE

The evening has brought a soft breeze that perfumes the air with the harvest’s musky scent. It mixes pleasantly with the intoxicating aroma of wood smoked pork, filling the warmly lit dining patio. I find myself sitting across the table from an imposing man, our host for this feast. Salt and pepper hair and beard framing a handsome, open face, he is relaxed and confident as he shares his passion for winemaking and the traditions of his homeland. I am both charmed and intrigued. His eyes reveal fierce intelligence and intense pride, and as the wine flows the discussion begins to drift towards politics and Georgia’s future. Our tour guides, Kristo and Maka, both political activists, flank our host and it is quickly evident that their bond goes deep into the recent turmoil and unrest that seems to be Georgia’s endless fate.

We had come to Georgia without much forethought or planning. We put our trust in the tour company (which we know well), checked the visa requirements, booked our airfare, and here we are. Now, after three days immersed in the culture, history, and politics of the region we are both thrilled to have made the journey, and more than a little terrified for this small, intensely proud country.

For thousands of years the area known today as Georgia has been like a highway between Asia and Europe for marauding armies. The Great Caucus Mountains form a massive barrier between the Arabian Peninsula and rest of Asia, creating a huge fertile valley bridging the Caspian and Black seas. Here sits Georgia, an agricultural gem in an irresistibly strategic location where world powers have left their boot tracks for millennia.

And so it goes today. In just the most recent century, Georgia was annexed by Czarist Russia (1891), declared independence during the Russian Revolution (1917), conquered by the Bolsheviks (1921), declared independence again with the fall of the Soviet empire (1991), and fought another war with Russia (2008). They were more or less enslaved by the Czar, Stalinized by the Soviets, endured severe economic punishment during “the dark 90’s”, and were cutoff from Russia as a trading partner following the 2008 war. Bonnie and I have lived most of our lives in an era where democratic principles were assumed to be sacred and permanent. Here in Georgia we have been introduced to a people who have rarely known any form of stability and who are once again facing the potential loss of their freedom to an autocracy. It is sobering.

At dinner that evening, as the moon rose over the vineyards and another round of cha-cha was poured, our host began to open up on the current state of Georgian society. As it turns out, winemaking is a recently indulged passion. Prior to hosting naive westerners in his winery, this son of the Caucasus had risen through the officer ranks in the Georgian military, ultimately holding the post of Defense Minister in the previous government. That government was displaced by the current “Georgian Dream” (GD) in 2011. The GD, it turns out, is the fiefdom of Bidzina Ivanishvilli, a multi-billionaire with deep ties to Putin’s Russia, making wild promises and claims for the future purity and prosperity of Georgian society under his direction. So, while a huge majority of the people want desperately to continue developing a democratic system and to join the EU, the GD is actively moving to align the country with Putin’s autocracy. One of the GD’s tactics is to enlist the help of the country’s orthodox Christian church who are, of course, horrified by the evils of modern western culture. The most recent GD legislation (a law limiting foreign influence in Georgia politics, copied verbatim from Putin’s own law) brought the opposition into the streets by the tens of thousands resulting in daily confrontations with police and GD politicians.

As the cha-cha flowed, and the toasts grew more personal, our new friends casually acknowledged their terror over their own future. Kristo, our redheaded pixie firebrand, explained that she had long ago crossed the line of safety from the regime, having led one protest after another and opening up the restaurant she owns with her husband as a haven for the opposition forces.

“I will be on the first page in the list of citizens to be arrested after the next election if we lose,” she stated flatly.

“We cannot win,” our host decreed, ruefully. “The election will be rigged by the GD. The passage of the foreign influence bill was designed to keep international monitoring of the election to a minimum. Without pressure from the world’s democracies, we are lost.”

Asked if he feared for his personal safety, his response was matter of fact. “Of course. It is a given. But this is my home. I will not leave it.” As he said this, I was struck again by the fierce intelligence behind those eyes, and the thought came for the first time that his career in politics might not quite be at an end in this charming winery.

As we hugged and said our goodbyes, that evening, we were flooded by a melange of feelings: gratitude for the warmth and hospitality of these amazing people, sadness and concern for the future of our new friends, satiated by the bounty of flavors, and sobered by the depth of the struggle represented in each traditional dish that had been put before us.

This night our casual decision to visit Georgia turned surreal. A mirror was held up before us, if we dared to look.

The Food

BY BONNIE NOBLE

Since we were in Georgia on a Culinary Backstreets tour, our entire week was focused on food and wine. We had so much to learn!

Georgian cuisine reflects the dramatic history of the country. Georgia’s location on the ancient Silk Road, at the crossroads of East and West, has resulted in a cuisine influenced by the Mediterranean, Arabs, Mongols, Persians, Ottomans, and even Northern India. Russian poet Alexander Pushkin asserted that “every Georgian dish is a poem” and I wonder if he was referring to the fusion of cultures as well as flavors on a Georgian plate.

Khachapuri

Probably the most traditional Georgian food, khachapuri translates as “cheesy bread” – a perfect description for this ubiquitous dish. Think flatbread made of leavened dough, filled with cheese. Nothing wrong with that combination. The dough is a little oily with a pleasantly crunchy exterior and a soft center; the cheese (usually cow “sulguni”) is smooth and salty. There are many local variations of khachapuri. Some have cheese just inside, others have cheese inside and on top. There are a khachapuri with minced meat and herbs, and one variety is stuffed with a paste made for kidney beans and sometimes a piece of bacon.

The most famous khachapuri is the Adjarian variation. This one resembles a boat (Adjari is a seaside region) with lots of cheese. An egg and a cube of butter are floated inside the moment it comes out of the oven. It is said that the egg yolk represents the sunset at sea. To eat an Adjarian khachapuri, you start by mixing the egg, butter, and cheese together and then tearing a piece of the baked dough from the outer corners to scoop up the gooey egg and cheese mixture. When the corners and sides of the boat are gone, you roll the bottom up and eat it.

Khinkali

Another simple Georgian comfort food is a dumpling made with a variety of fillings including meat, potatoes, mushrooms, or cheese, depending on the region of Georgia you’re in. It is said that you can judge a good khinkali by the number of folds it has – fewer than 20 being considered substandard. Eating khinkali requires a sense of urgency and a specific technique. Most importantly, khinkali is finger food and the use of cutlery is considered rude. Here’s what you do: grab the dumpling from its topknot and bite a small hole in the side, tilt your head back to slurp out the broth, sink your teeth into the filling, place the topknot on your plate (so everybody can see who ate the most), take a swig or two of beer, repeat.

Nigvziani Badrijani

Eggplant with walnuts may not sound very interesting, but when slices of eggplant are grilled, covered in walnut paste, seasoned with ajika (a complex mix of several spices and herbs), and topped with pomegranate seeds the result is delicious. Various approaches to this Georgian classic were presented at every supra.

Cheese

More than 200 cheeses are produced in Georgia with each region making its own variety. The three most common are Sulgani, Guda, and Imeruli. Sulgani, a specialty of western Georgia, is a cow or buffalo milk semi-soft cheese with a high moisture content similar to mozzarella. Guda is a pungent sheep’s milk cheese from the mountains that is aged in sheepskin and Imeruli is a salty, semi-dry white goat’s milk cheese.

Churchkhela

When we opened our welcome bag provided by Culinary Backstreets, there was one item that stumped us. “What is this?” Ed asked. “Don’t know, a candle? Sausage?” I replied. Actually, it’s a lumpy, colorful confection that is hanging in storefront windows everywhere. It is also an example of preserved, portable nutrition created in response to the continuous conflict and uncertainty of Georgian life throughout history. The recipe: take some concentrated grape juice (left over from the wine harvest), add some honey and cook on high heat until it thickens; take your strands of walnuts threaded onto cotton string and dip them into the grape juice mixture; hang in the sun to dry. Churchkhela can be stored for several months, providing a simple storehouse of energy and protien for the soldier on the go. I’m thinking sliced churchkhela might be a nice addition to a cheese board.

Tklapi

We had another “what is that?” conversation the first time we encountered tklapi. A placemat? Nope, it’s fruit leather: puréed fruit, spread thinly and sun-dried on a clothesline. There are sweet tklapi, like those made from fig or apricot, that make a terrific snack, and sour ones, intense with tart cherries and foraged plums, that are used in soups and stews. Here is another example of the preservation of food for uncertain times.

Jonjoli

Our third, “what in the world?” was a pickled and lightly fermented herby thing that we found on salads and served alongside various spreads. Jonjoli is made from the flowers and buds of a native deciduous shrub called Caucasian bladdernut. Georgians collect them and pickle them with salt and onion resulting in an interesting and quite pleasant taste. We’re not going to find this in Pennsylvania…or Valencia.

Tomato-cucumber salad

To prepare this traditional Georgian salad, cut cucumbers and tomatoes, add a few rings of red onion, parsley, and maybe some olives. That’s a Greek salad, right? Well, sort of. The Georgian version diverges in flavor with the use of sunflower or walnut oil rather than olive oil. However, the true appeal of this salad lies in ingredients. We’ve never eaten so many and such good tomatoes. I’m not sure if it’s the Georgian climate, the soil, or the specific variety of tomato, but they are special.

Pkhali and Mchadi

Every meal began with spreads of some sort. Pkhali, refers to an assortment of spreads or pâtés made from whatever vegetable is on hand (our favorite was beet). Easy to make, these delicious spreads involve boiling and shredding the vegetable and then adding a squeeze of lemon juice, minced garlic, a handful each of cilantro and ground walnuts (Georgian cooks put walnuts in almost everything!). Top with pomegranate seeds and enjoy along with mchadi – small crispy loaves of corn flour, milk and water that is cooked in a skillet on the stove top and often served with cheese.

Mchadi are also served with lobio – a deliciously thick kidney bean soup achieved by pounding slow-cooked beans in a mortar and pestle before mixing with fried onions, cilantro, vinegar, dried marigold, and chiles is stirred into the pot just before serving. Amazing.

Puri

No blog post about Georgian cuisine would be complete without referencing the local bread. Puri is prepared in a wood fire oven known as a tonne (something like an Indian tandoor). To bake puri, the baker slaps the raw dough against the wall of the tonne and uses iron skewers to get the fresh bread out of the hot oven when it’s done.

Tkemali

Every supra included a dish of tkemali (sour plum sauce). This zesty, sour sauce made from small green unripe plums that are prevalent in Georgia. Other plums can be used, as long as they’re not overripe—their skins contain enough acidity to give the sauce its characteristic tang. Tkemali is used as a condiment for fried or grilled meat, poultry and potatoes – Georgian ketchup!

THE Wine

by Ed Noble

So, what about the wine? As so often happens in our travels, we planned to visit Tbilisi primarily to explore the history of winemaking in the country, only to discover far more compelling stories around culture, politics, and tradition. To this end we travel. To be clear, however, you cannot understand Georgia without exploring its wines. Winemaking in Georgia literally predates history. The archaeological evidence provides proof that Georgia has been fermenting grapes into wine for at least 8,000 years, making it the true birthplace of winemaking. As we traveled around the region the importance of viticulture to the history and identity of Georgians was evidenced in carvings of grapes and winemaking on the facades of churches built more than a thousand years ago and in the excavated winery we visited that dates to the 4th century. Like everything about Georgia, however, the modern story of wine is convoluted.

A qvevri wine cellar found at an archaeological site from the 4th Century

First, let me explain some of what makes Georgian wine unique. It starts with the fermenting vessels. Georgian wine from 8,000 years ago till today is made in traditional clay jars called qvevri (pronounced kwev-ree). These are enormous egg shaped pots that are made today by specialized artisans using the local clays in a tradition that goes back millennia. The qvevri are baked in enormous wood-fired kilns at temperatures approaching 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit for as long as a week. At the winery, they are buried in the Georgian soil where the temperature moderating effect of the earth optimizes the conditions for winemaking. When a Georgian winemaker shows you his wine cellar, it is to the room where the qvevri are buried that you will be directed. This is the heart of the Georgian winemaking process. The grapes are pressed and the juice placed, along with the skins and pulp, into the buried qvevri to ferment. In most cases, the juice is left in contact with the skins for the entire fermentation resulting in a white wine with a distinctly amber color and a startlingly tannic profile. At first it was quite disorienting to take a sip of this innocent looking straw colored wine and experience mouth puckering tannins. We adapted, however.

Raw clay qvevri awaiting their turn in the wood kiln

Once the winemaker deems the fermentation process complete, the wine is pumped from the qvevri into stainless steel vessels, and from this point to bottling the process looks quite familiar to western eyes. Modern Georgian winemakers are quite adamant that their wines remain totally organic and natural. No chemicals are used either in the vineyards or in the winemaking. This can result in significant variability from one vintage to the next, and these wines are made to be drunk fresh, not aged. The result is that tasting and enjoying wine is an endless adventure with each new bottle providing interesting variations. In the course of a week we must have sampled 60 – 70 different wines, primarily whites (amber) with a handful of reds served late in a meal. No two were alike. Some of the primary grapes became familiar, but the resulting wine was always unique and enjoyable.

A typical wine cellar with mouths of the qvevri protected by brick rings.

Despite the deep tradition this winemaking represents, however, the modern version is a fledgling industry attempting to recover its place in the world. You see, as with all things in modern Georgian, you cannot escape the impact of the Soviet era. When the Soviets took over the country in 1921, they proceeded to mold the production of wine into a beverage for the people – quantity, not quality. The historic vineyards with their hundreds of grape varieties were ripped out and replaced with the most productive grapes to maximize volume. The qvevri tradition was replaced by industrial scale wineries and production maximized by the addition of water and sugar. For 70 years, this was Georgian wine. The collapse of the Soviet Union did not immediately restore the old ways. After all, three generations of winemakers had known no other system and their only market was Russia. It wasn’t until the 2008 war when, to punish Georgia, Putin cutoff all trade between the countries. Suddenly, the market for the sweet, watery, Soviet era wine disappeared and a new generation began to look around for another model. They rediscovered their own tradition.

3D Printer that will produce qvevri with capacities of up to 1500 litres

The farmers and vintners we met are the courageous vanguard of a revival that is finding its feet. We toured a “library” vineyard planted with over 450 grape varieties from Georgia’s past aimed at preserving the lineage. We met an entrepreneur who has designed and built a 3-D printer to produce qvevri of a quality and on scale that will meet the growing demands of the wine industry. But, most of all, we enjoyed the passion and zeal these pioneers expressed for their country and the grapes that have defined it for thousands of years.

Another memorable anniversary

We were delighted to celebrate our 51st wedding anniversary in Georgia.

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Tbilisi, Georgia

Leave a Comment / Bonnie Noble / March 8, 2025

Beginning another adventure

Since there are many more flight options out of Madrid (vs. Valencia), we often start a trip with a train ride to Madrid. The high speed train gets us to Madrid in just 2 hours and because we’re fond of the “take it slow” approach, we often stay a night in Madrid before heading to the airport. There’s always something interesting to see at any one of Madrid’s fabulous museums. This time, we spent an afternoon enjoying a special exhibit at The Prado.

Stopover in Athens

We began our trek to Tbilisi, Georgia with a brief overnight stop in Athens. The were two compelling reasons for this stopover. When we were in Athens in May, we didn’t make it to the National Archeology Museum to see the amazing Mycenaean collection. Also, we have a wonderful new friend in Athens. We met Elli, a long time friend of Nayan and Jo, when we were visiting in May and looked forward to spend more time with her. Both the museum visit and our time with Elli were wonderful!

New Friends

After a brief layover in Istanbul, we were finally on our way to Tbilisi. On the plane, I met two Turkish women who live in Istanbul and were visiting Tbilisi for a brief holiday. One of them had been to Tbilisi before and explained to me that Tbilisi is a “very small city” and she was sure we’d see one another around town. Tbilisi is a city of one million people, so I wasn’t so sure. We laughed about this over dinner on our first night in Tbilisi. I can understand her perspective – Istanbul is a city of over 20 million. As my new friend had predicted, in less than 24 hours of leaving the airport, we ran into them having a coffee at a small cafe. We joined them and enjoyed sharing travel experiences and getting lots of recommendations for our next trip to Turkey. We traded contact information and delighted in making two new friends.

Graffiti

As with many European cities, there’s plenty of graffiti in Tbilisi. Anti-Russian graffiti blanketing Tbilisi’s streets tells the complicated story of the two countries and their peoples. The current ruling party in Georgia, the Dream party, is closely tied to Moscow. This contrasts sharply with the staunchly pro-EU sentiments on the streets and you can see and feel this tension.

Soviet Wine

In the afternoon of our first full day in Tbilisi, we met our fellow adventurers and our two guides, Kristo and Maka, who would be our companions for the next seven days. After introductions, we had a brief explanation of the recent history of Georgian wine followed by a tasting.

We learned that after the invasion of the Red Army in 1921, winemaking in Georgia was dramatically changed. The ancient methods of Georgian winemaking were almost lost under Soviet rule, which lasted for 77 years. During these years, Georgian winemakers lost their land, vines were ripped out and replaced with high-yielding varieties, and the old methods (which we will learn much more about on this trip) were “industrialized” to meet Stalin’s economics plans. While the “Soviet wines” were plentiful, they were sweet, bland, and lacked character. The objective was volume, not quality. Then, in 1985, nearly three quarters of Georgia’s vineyards were ripped out when Gorbachev launched a campaign to combat alcohol abuse.

Our first tasting was one of the “Soviet wines” and after just a small sip, we gladly dumped the remainder of our glass.

Revival

After the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, the winemaking industry in Georgia did not immediately bounce back. In 2006, when 90% of the wine made in Georgia was still going to Russia, Putin placed an embargo on Georgian wine. This was a catalyst for young winemakers to revive the indigenous grape varieties and the ancient methods. Families throughout Georgia’s countryside had continued the old traditions in spite of Soviet domination and when winemakers turned their attention to Western markets there was a shift toward quality. After dumping our Soviet wine, we enjoyed a couple of Georgian natural wine.

There’s a promising future for Georgian wines as they embrace diverse indigenous grapes and natural wine making processes along with a revival of the ancient methods. The shift is toward quality and we were looking forward to learning and tasting more!

After a full week in Tbilisi and the Georgian wine country, we have a lot to share. Stay tuned for our next post. In the meantime, we’ll be exploring a few Greek Islands, starting with Crete.

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