Georgia on my mind

Dodo
The owner of the homestay in Tblisi. She had those warm eyes that made you feel right at home in her yard. Her back killing her, and her hands deformed by arthritis. She spoke to everyone who came to stay with her. Sent people to friends because they needed the money. When I spoke to her the last day, her eyes had a dark shadow. She had just talked to her daughter-in-law. She was concerned about her economy. "The economy in Georgia is bad. We have trouble. Bad president. You know, always promise before election. Then, after election. Forgets promises. But this october, we will elect another president. Better president. This president, we should throw in jail!" I wanted to tell her this was politicians in a nutshell, but realized that the promises "forgotten" by our government are nowhere as devastating as in such a country as Georgia.
I will think of you in october, Dodo. You and your welcoming eyes, and heartwarming smile. Hoping for a better future for you and all others like you.

Marshrutka
Mad drivers. Mad driving. Old vans from Germany. Transformed into minibuses. The backbone of transportation in Georgia. After getting used to the idea of every trip possibly being my last, I kinda had fallen in love with the way of travelling. Sitting there, sqeezed in the seats, with people's luggage stacked in the aile. Adele screaming "We could have had it all!" from blown speakers. Yes, we could. But this goes a long way.

Refugee
"You want something to read?" I was standing in the doorway of a small shop in Borjomi waiting for the rain to stop, when the girl running it, offered me her reading book. It was an English study book. 23 simple sentences about Georgia.
"You learn English?" I asked.
"Yes, aaaaa, I try!" She giggled.
"That's good! You are doing fine! You learn English in school?"
"Aaaaa. No. Only one year. I read book. But no practice!"
"Ok. Where are you from?"
"I am from Sukhumi, Abkhazia! Very beautiful!"
"And you moved here?"
"No. When Russian come, I must flee."
"You mean during the war in 2008?"
"Yes. I ran hotel in Sukhumi. Here, I live in hotel. It hard."
"Can you go back now?"
"No. Still dangerous for me. Russians arrest me. I don't know when I can go back."
She looked out into the rain.
"Suhumi very beautiful. Black Sea very beautiful"
I thanked her for the talk and bid her goodbye.

Stories
I don't mind riding business class. I don't mind staying in $250 per night hotel rooms. But if I want to meet real people, I have to ride zoo class. Stay in hostels and homestays. That is where I get the stories. Stories of survival, trials, hope and joy. I could tell stories of Prada queens and Beamer kings. But I prefer to tell the stories of the Dodos and Abkhazian refugee girls of this world. Real people. Real life. Unfiltered. True.
So when I return home, I can thank God for my life. Bringing with me the best souvenirs of all. Souvenirs that cannot be bought. Perspectives. And, most valuable of all,

stories