Last year we took a marvelous trip to the Czech Republic, where we spent most of our time in the capital city, Prague. This year, my family and I spent 12 days in the Republic of Georgia. I was dubious that Tbilisi would measure up to one of the most amazing cities in Europe, Prague. 

Great Caesar’s Ghost, was I wrong! What Tbilisi lacks in organization, wealth, and shine, it more than makes up for with stunning food, world class wines, and hot sulfur baths. And, something more: magic.

Prague is much tidier than Tbilisi. Its buildings are in much better condition. Its museums, art galleries, churches and castle are all clean, well-maintained, and orderly. It is easy to plan and organize a trip there. Prague would not seem out of place in Germany or Austria. It is easy to see that this was a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. It fits neatly alongside Budapest, but is, in truth, much cleaner and grander.

Tbilisi is not particularly clean. Entire neighborhoods in the old city are literally propped up by massive iron girders. Many buildings looked like they should be condemned and torn down. Stray dogs roam the streets, only outnumbered by stray cats. Several museums, ballet tickets, and the world-class puppet theater all were out of our reach as either the hours that were posted online were wrong, the website only functioned in Georgian, or as in the case of the puppet theater, they simply were out of the country.

And, yet. And, yet. Tbilisi and indeed all of Georgia seems to radiate a kind of beauty, a just around the corner, behind that concrete Soviet monstrosity, ravaged glory. And, if scroll-work balconies and twisted wooden staircases don’t bring to mind fairy tales, then the food will. From grilled eggplant slices slathered in walnut cream to beautiful crusty flatbreads stuffed with salty, gooey cheese, nearly every meal was magical. An average meal in Tbilisi was better than a great meal in Prague. And, there were more than a couple great meals which rivaled anything I have eaten in years. The wine is, if anything, even better. I have never drunk so much wine and regretted it so little.

But, this post isn’t solely about how amazing Georgia is. It’s about something that just dawned on me: Spain and Georgia have quite a lot in common. Both are undeniably beautiful. Both are terribly under-rated. Both have excellent food, rich cultures, and amazing wines. But, more than these things, both countries are products of Christianity.

I am not a religious person, and if it weren’t for my deep dislike of quantum physics, based largely on the fact that I am too stupid to understand even a fraction of it, and my unease at the idea that the entire universe exploded into existence from an infinitesimal speck which in turn came into being from nothing, I would be an atheist.

This said, I cannot imagine Spain or Georgia existing as they are now without religion. Yes, Spain is Catholic and Georgia is Eastern Orthodox, but in both cultures, religion is much more than something that you remember three times a year or endure once a week because your parents make you. For both Spain and Georgia, religion is an integral part of their daily lives, their national identity, and their culture.

The wines that flow from fountains in Spain and Kantsi (drinking horns) in Georgia are the same ones used in the ceremony of the Holy Communion. Georgians and Spaniards alike make the sign of the cross when they pass holy places. Churches in both countries are not relics of an ancient past, but a place of refuge for those in need of spiritual comfort and a place of gathering for festivals that cement their communities together. Their beliefs are deep and sincere. Tears are shed and icons are kissed. It’s more than ritual, it’s real.

Religion drove the Spaniards to expel the Moors and become an empire in their own right. Georgia might not even exist without religion. The will to fight off the Turks, Persians, Russians, and Mongols, according to our tour guide, George, came from their belief in Christ, and of course, lots of wine. Neither place would be what it is today without religion.

My fondness for both places, and they are deeply religious places, makes me wonder. Do I love them because they are religious or in spite of this?

 

-S