Wine and Weapons in the other Georgia
We move on to the Narakali Fortress, a spectacular setting for a public display of Khrilodi. En route, a blown tire gives the opportunity to amble along to an old Soviet housing estate. Locals look at us like we’ve arrived from another planet, but the atmosphere is more of curiosity than of threat. Automobilic relics sit like skeletons in the grass. We eventually decide to take a taxi, and I notice that just about every car that passes us has some form of damage. A BMW chugs past, half the car crushed from several rolls in the not too recent past. Windows are smashed. Bumpers absent. Georgians seem to drive whatever will move, and drive it however they feel the need to.
Narakali is as impressive as Edinburgh Castle, yet casts a more authentic and medieval shadow on the city. Roadwork necessitates a detour, as does a large demonstration that has been calling for the resignation of the current president for weeks. We pass a striking modern glass building with a helipad, and learn that it is the residence of a billionaire Russian oligarch. Old buildings are crammed together, their roofs perfect for Clive Owen to race across chasing a frightened informant (I watched The International on the plane, and the final scene in Istanbul might as well have been filmed here). A TV Tower is in the distance, and at night it’s lit up like a disco, adding an impressive element of eye candy. There are few tourists. Some guys from Greece. Switzerland. Belgium. I meet some Israelis who are here on business. Fortunately, this is not tour bus country. An Armenian wedding crowds the central square near Shardeni Street, a part of old town enjoying a renaissance with trendy outdoor cafes and bars. The US rapper Ja Rule is performing in a club this weekend, which is kind of weird, and I see signs advertising kosher food for the 10,000 Jews who live in the city, one of the oldest surviving Jewish communities in the world, dating back as far as the 6th Century BC. Tbilisi has prided itself on its religious tolerance for centuries, and while there’s no shortage of churches, nearly 10% of the city is Muslim. A functioning mosque, synagogue, eastern and oriental church are located within 500m from each other in the old town. My guide Nica points out that both Sunni and Shiite Muslims worship in the same mosque, proving the point.
In my old medieval warrior treads, I learn how to use various weapons. Swords, shields, whips, knuckle spikes, archery – my favourite is the tabari, a large and heavy axe. The trick is to follow the trajectory of the movement, spinning as I slice and dice the invading army. Everyone takes several steps back, no doubt thinking of the headline: Travel Writer Decapitates Film Crew in Freak Medieval Weapon Accident. Regardless, a Lord of the Rings fanboy like myself is in heaven. It’s much harder getting the bow to release the arrow, and I struggle to flick the whip and generate a gunshot crack. Demonstration fights on the old forts walls appear straight out of a movie, the swords clanging while the entire city is sprawled out beneath them. Not for the first time, hopefully not for the last, I surge with travel buzz as Sean films me on the old wall, practising with two swords, the late afternoon sun breaking through the storm clouds behind me. I had a vivid imagination as a child. I could turn a candle into a jedi, a coat hanger into a six-shooter, and battle my way through epic fight scenes where my aim would always be true. I’m 34 years old. Standing on that castle wall, clad like an ancient warrior, it occurs to me that not much has changed.
There are only about 500 people practicing Khridoli in Georgia, and nobody practicing this elaborate martial art outside the country. I ask Lasha why it’s not practised in the military, as a form of defence and national pride. “Now we have American military instructors, before we had Russians,” he shrugs. The Georgian Martial Arts Federation is however growing, and their performances at festivals around the country are drawing attention. It drew mine.
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