Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan 2018
Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan 2018
Caucasus 2018
Today was a scheduled day for free time, allowing the participants on the tour to spend the day however they wished. While many of my travelling companions opted to visit museums, monasteries and art galleries, I opted to visit Tbilisi’s top ranking museum on TripAdvisor, the Tbilisi Auto Museum. I was a little puzzled that no-one else was interested in seeing this collection of beautifully restored Soviet cars, but I guess it comes to different interpretations of the word ‘discerning’.
The museum’s opening hours were from 11:00am to 6:00pm, Tuesday to Sunday, so that gave me a more leisurely start to the day than I had experienced for a long time. I took full advantage of the later start to have a relaxed buffet breakfast at the hotel before going out into the street to find a taxi.
I had done my research, and I understood that the fare to be negotiated was 15 lari ($Aust.8.07) each way (rather than the 40 or 50 lari that they try to charge foreigners). It was also suggested to me that I should not get the taxi to wait for me, as it would be cheaper to arrange a taxi through the museum’s reception desk (it is standard practice for museums to phone for taxis for their visitors).
According to online reviews, the Tbilisi Auto Museum is in a notoriously difficult location to find, so I downloaded the location to my phone, and thus prepared, I ventured out to get a taxi. In central Tbilisi, you don’t have to work hard to find a taxi driver – they find you. I negotiated a good fare, which was 30 lari for the return trip, including waiting for me at the museum.
The driver spoke no English, but it was soon clear he wasn’t willing to drive for th negotiated fare of 30 lari. He kept shouting aggressively “kilometres”, “more”, and lari double”. He continually pointed to his fuel gauge (which did have the low fuel light on as soon as we started the trip), saying “fuel”, “you” and “one dollar US”. When I smiled and declined his offers to pay more money, he kept slapping his hand against his forehead, shaking his head and saying “no good, no good”.
I had the location on GoogleMaps and was directing the driver (who didn’t have much idea where he was going at all), but he insisted on stopping continually to ask directions from passing pedestrians, none of whom had any clue where the museum was located. We eventually arrived at the museum at a little before midday – and it was in a genuinely hard to find location at the end of a dirt track out near Tbilisi Airport.
The museum’s collection of cars was stunning – a vast range of perhaps forty vehicles in immaculate condition, but with one shortcoming; the museum was closed. A lonely looking local man was sitting outside, and gestured to me that it would not be opening today. I asked him why it was closed, so he shrugged and simply replied “Georgia”. I think that means the museum operates on what locals call GMT – “Georgia Maybe Time”.
So how do I know the collection of cars was so good? The museum had one side wall of glass (unfortunately highly reflective glass) so I could see inside. At one end of the museum, other windows gave a good interior view of the cars lined up inside. I would have loved to get a closer look at the rare beauties inside, but at least I got a glimpse of them through the glass.
I was pleased that I had arranged for the taxi to wait as getting another taxi in such a remote location without the help of the museum’s front desk would have been impossible. Understandably, the driver was surprised that he only had to wait for ten minutes, but nodded with understanding when I gestured that museum was closed, adding the one word explanation “Georgia”.
The short wait didn’t stop him repeating the demand for double money. I shook my head, and he started to come down from his demand for 60 to 50, then 40, then up to 60 again, plus petrol. His loud, aggressive “no good, no good” became louder, and his head slapping continued unabated. After a less-than-pleasant 25 minutes, we had returned to our starting point in central Tbilisi. Following local advice to have the right money available and walk away if challenged by the taxi driver, I gave him to 30 lari I had separated from my top pocket. He counted the money, and then with a broad grin reached out to shake my hand and wished me “good travel” with a nod of the head. His demeanour while driving had all been a game of bluff.
The weather was warm (high twenties) and the skies were clear, so I decided to spend the rest of the afternoon walking around parts of central Tbilisi I hadn’t seen on the scheduled visits. My first stop was the funicular railway that ascends to the top of Mount Mtatsminda, a high hill where Tbilisi’s TV tower is located that is supposed to give the best panoramic views of Tbilisi. The walk to the funicular railway station was about 2.3 kilometres, and it was lovely walking along Tbilisi’s shady streets among the buildings of the old part of the city.
The view from Mount Mtatsminda was indeed superb, and the sunny conditions made the most of the view of Tbilisi’s amphitheatre-like situation.
Descending from the funicular railway, I made my way downhill to Shota Rustaveli Avenue, usually regarded as Tbilisi’s main thoroughfare because it contains so many significant government, administrative and public buildings. My destination was the Georgian National Museum, located opposite Parliament House in a beautiful neoclassical four-storey building. Most of the exhibits were fairly staid, although the exhibition of “Soviet Occupation 1921-1991) have a perspective on Georgia’s period as part of the USSR from a distinctly nationalistic (Georgian) perspective.
I continued walking downhill to the Dry Bridge, so named because it crosses a wide roadway that was reclaimed from an anabranch of the Mtkvari River. The Dry Bridge is where Tbilisi’s flea market is held every day, and the array of – things – was remarkable. There were lots of items of Soviet memorabilia, records, household goods, cameras and lenses; most of it apparently goods that Georgian families sold during the 1990s when the country was experiencing severe austerity. I would have loved longer to look at everything laid out across the footpath, but it was getting late and I needed to walk back to the hotel, have dinner and a shower before going out to a performance of Georgian folk songs by the Rustavi Ensemble, kindly hosted by Advantour as part of the 26th International Music Festival being held in Tbilisi.
The singing was in traditional Georgian polyphonic style (see link HERE). Polyphonic singing is unique to Georgia, and is incredibly complex. It was largely a lost art during the Soviet period because it was seen as synonymous with Georgian nationalism. Never written down, it was revived in the early 2000s by listening to and analysing old recordings made between 1900 and 1910.
The performance this evening was sensational, indeed brilliant, with deep resonant voices, amazing timbre and multi-part harmonies, performed to perfection in the brilliant acoustics of the Kakhidze Music Centre. I doubt any recording could do the performance justice because any speakers (and especially small ones) would diminish the depth of the sound so greatly. However, for what it is worth, a video recording of the finale song from this evening’s performance can be viewed HERE. It lasts for 8 minutes and 40 seconds, as it takes time to build up to its crescendo, so try to view it using decent speakers with the volume turned UP.
Day 10
Tbilisi
Wednesday
12 September 2018
