Yesterday was a good day. The TLG program announced on Tuesday that there were free excursions available for us volunteers, and gave us a list of the first ten from which to pick our top choices. I filled them out and on Thursday found out I was one of the first twenty-five to apply for my first choice, the Green Monastery (mts'vane monast'eri)--or more properly, St. George's Monastery (ts'minda giorgis monast'eri); it is called "Green" because of the gorgeous and lush forest in which it is nestled--and Vardzia, a must-see if you're in Georgia. The great thing with these excursions is that there are twenty-five of them, and though we're only guaranteed one, we can go on more, if we request to and it wouldn't mean stopping someone else who hasn't already been on one yet. They start in different places throughout Georgia and, other than the cost to the cities they depart from (for me, eight lari each way, if it's to Tbilisi like this one was), are free. Of course, when I go to monasteries, I'd prefer to stay for a couple days and see the liturgics and daily life of each community, but again, these are free--and if I want to go back and spend more time at some, I can do that in June and July, and this way I'll know at which I might be more truly interested in doing so.
So anyway, since it left the city at 8:30 AM on Saturday, I left Friday night for Tbilisi and stayed at my host father's cousin's. Georgians are great--meet the the first time and they'll often still invite you over to their place (and mean it, and write directions and phone numbers to prove it), or even to exotic far-off sights in Georgia, on more rare occasions. In the morning, she (this cousin of my host father) helped me find the meeting point, and we headed off through some very beautiful and diverse landscapes, then through Borjomi (absolutely gorgeous), until arriving at the Green Monastery. It's very small now, but is very old, and once was the center of one of the biggest monastic areas in Georgia--before the Turks invaded and martyred them all (thousands, at the least--I don't remember the number perfectly). It's got a beautiful, if relatively small, church, with the most gorgeous re-creation (hand-painted; not as an exact copy, but very close) of the Sinai Pantokrator that I have ever seen. There was a service going on when we got there, which was wonderful (a hieromonk, monk, and pilgrims (or locals) in attendance; the igumen was outside speaking with pilgrims), and afterwards I went into the "new," to quote the guide (17th-century), bell tower, where, to my surprise, I saw (and venerated) the bones of a few of the monks who had lived there. Unfortunately, we couldn't stay too long (the inherent problem with this sort of trip), so we had a nice picnic in the (lush and gorgeous) forest just outside the monastery grounds and then headed off.
We then went to an old fortress (no recollection on the name; sorry), where after taking some pictures, I had an interesting experience: as I was climbing up a wall, my camera came out of my pocket, slid off the wall top, and fell twenty or thirty feet, banging off another rock wall on the way down. I wasn't too worried about it (better it than me, yes?), and had fun trying to find a way around to where it fell without risking the same sort of fall myself--just as a downpour came upon us. Another volunteer, along with the guide, found an easy way to it (I created a delay with all this, but at least one with some adventure and entertainment), and managed to retrieve it for me (for which I am quite grateful, of course!). Amazingly, other than some gouges in the plastic (which made it difficult to open the lens cap the first time), it worked fine. It may be an old camera, but I guess it was made to last.
After the fortress, it was a short trip to Vardzia, and luckily the rain stopped before we got there. It was a sight to see--an entire city hewn in rock and cave in the 12th and 13th centuries. In fact, a very important trade city and dukedom (with rooms for the queen, as well). What I did expect was its bigness--and it filled its measure. It was big, and we didn't even see all of the portion visitors are allowed to see (as it was both a city and a monastery, and still has about ten monks or so, certain places are reserved so the monks can live a quiet life even with all the visitors)--not only that, but this is only what's left; it used to be enclosed in rock and more tunnels, not visible from the outside at all, and has been greatly damaged by earthquake and invasion. What I didn't expect was quality of craftsmanship--but they had tons of arches and decorative grooves as well as practical yet aesthetically-pleasing shelves and niches everywhere. Of course, in olden times they had normal wood furniture and the like in all the rooms, too. It's crazy to think about--living by candle-light (as I would assume, since these were all enclosed in rock), going up and down steep and dangerous staircases on a daily basis. And oh, what the noise must have been! Think of a town's noise, all shoved into close quarters, with nowhere for the sound to go but echoing through the whole place. And there are still monks living there, maintaining the churches (there are a few, though we only saw the main one, which still even has its 12th or 13th century frescoes (for example, one of three pictures (this one an icon) of St. Queen Tamar painted from life) and living the life, keeping the monastery a monastery, and not a relic or a museum. It was a wonderful experience (even though it did begin to drench us with rain again halfway through), and I'm very glad I went. Before leaving off Vardzia, I'll quickly explain the name: when St. Queen Tamar was a child, she was brought to where the monastery would later be built by her uncle, and was happily running around playing. At one point, he lost her, and called out for her, to which she replied, "var, dzia," or in English, "[I] am [here], uncle." Strange name for a city and a monastery, but there you go. This same uncle started building the city in the late 12th century, and St. Queen Tamar finished it around 1210. It is certainly a sight to see, should you ever get the chance.
The only other problem with this sort of excursion (if from Tbilisi) is that we come back way too late for me to catch the last marshutka to my village, meaning I have to miss Sunday Liturgy for it. I thought about asking to spend the night at Vardzia so I could experience Liturgy there, but since we didn't talk to any of the monks, I decided not to try to impose in such a way. If I do another excursion, though, I think I'll ask to stay--I both want to get more out of these monastery trips, and certainly can't go on missing Liturgy on Sundays. But as for this time, I think it worth it.
In Christ,
Teopile/Theophilos Porter
So anyway, since it left the city at 8:30 AM on Saturday, I left Friday night for Tbilisi and stayed at my host father's cousin's. Georgians are great--meet the the first time and they'll often still invite you over to their place (and mean it, and write directions and phone numbers to prove it), or even to exotic far-off sights in Georgia, on more rare occasions. In the morning, she (this cousin of my host father) helped me find the meeting point, and we headed off through some very beautiful and diverse landscapes, then through Borjomi (absolutely gorgeous), until arriving at the Green Monastery. It's very small now, but is very old, and once was the center of one of the biggest monastic areas in Georgia--before the Turks invaded and martyred them all (thousands, at the least--I don't remember the number perfectly). It's got a beautiful, if relatively small, church, with the most gorgeous re-creation (hand-painted; not as an exact copy, but very close) of the Sinai Pantokrator that I have ever seen. There was a service going on when we got there, which was wonderful (a hieromonk, monk, and pilgrims (or locals) in attendance; the igumen was outside speaking with pilgrims), and afterwards I went into the "new," to quote the guide (17th-century), bell tower, where, to my surprise, I saw (and venerated) the bones of a few of the monks who had lived there. Unfortunately, we couldn't stay too long (the inherent problem with this sort of trip), so we had a nice picnic in the (lush and gorgeous) forest just outside the monastery grounds and then headed off.
We then went to an old fortress (no recollection on the name; sorry), where after taking some pictures, I had an interesting experience: as I was climbing up a wall, my camera came out of my pocket, slid off the wall top, and fell twenty or thirty feet, banging off another rock wall on the way down. I wasn't too worried about it (better it than me, yes?), and had fun trying to find a way around to where it fell without risking the same sort of fall myself--just as a downpour came upon us. Another volunteer, along with the guide, found an easy way to it (I created a delay with all this, but at least one with some adventure and entertainment), and managed to retrieve it for me (for which I am quite grateful, of course!). Amazingly, other than some gouges in the plastic (which made it difficult to open the lens cap the first time), it worked fine. It may be an old camera, but I guess it was made to last.
After the fortress, it was a short trip to Vardzia, and luckily the rain stopped before we got there. It was a sight to see--an entire city hewn in rock and cave in the 12th and 13th centuries. In fact, a very important trade city and dukedom (with rooms for the queen, as well). What I did expect was its bigness--and it filled its measure. It was big, and we didn't even see all of the portion visitors are allowed to see (as it was both a city and a monastery, and still has about ten monks or so, certain places are reserved so the monks can live a quiet life even with all the visitors)--not only that, but this is only what's left; it used to be enclosed in rock and more tunnels, not visible from the outside at all, and has been greatly damaged by earthquake and invasion. What I didn't expect was quality of craftsmanship--but they had tons of arches and decorative grooves as well as practical yet aesthetically-pleasing shelves and niches everywhere. Of course, in olden times they had normal wood furniture and the like in all the rooms, too. It's crazy to think about--living by candle-light (as I would assume, since these were all enclosed in rock), going up and down steep and dangerous staircases on a daily basis. And oh, what the noise must have been! Think of a town's noise, all shoved into close quarters, with nowhere for the sound to go but echoing through the whole place. And there are still monks living there, maintaining the churches (there are a few, though we only saw the main one, which still even has its 12th or 13th century frescoes (for example, one of three pictures (this one an icon) of St. Queen Tamar painted from life) and living the life, keeping the monastery a monastery, and not a relic or a museum. It was a wonderful experience (even though it did begin to drench us with rain again halfway through), and I'm very glad I went. Before leaving off Vardzia, I'll quickly explain the name: when St. Queen Tamar was a child, she was brought to where the monastery would later be built by her uncle, and was happily running around playing. At one point, he lost her, and called out for her, to which she replied, "var, dzia," or in English, "[I] am [here], uncle." Strange name for a city and a monastery, but there you go. This same uncle started building the city in the late 12th century, and St. Queen Tamar finished it around 1210. It is certainly a sight to see, should you ever get the chance.
The only other problem with this sort of excursion (if from Tbilisi) is that we come back way too late for me to catch the last marshutka to my village, meaning I have to miss Sunday Liturgy for it. I thought about asking to spend the night at Vardzia so I could experience Liturgy there, but since we didn't talk to any of the monks, I decided not to try to impose in such a way. If I do another excursion, though, I think I'll ask to stay--I both want to get more out of these monastery trips, and certainly can't go on missing Liturgy on Sundays. But as for this time, I think it worth it.
In Christ,
Teopile/Theophilos Porter
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