I am a survivor; only just, I will admit, but tomorrow I will be able to stumble onto an aeroplane and leave the extraordinary Georgian hospitality behind.
Let me explain.
Georgia is all about hospitality; now I realise that may countries make this announcement, but in Georgia it is true. The ordinary, average Georgian is delighted that one is visiting, and will spare no effort to display this.
The differently-enhanced Georgian simply goes all out, and not in a Russian manner to simply impress, but in a Georgian manner, simply to host.
One way to show one’s respect and affection is to host a Supra, the Georgian name for a feast. Now at this point, set aside images of medieval “feasts” held at the drearier type of motorway motel, and think hospitality.
Timing is important; apparently, but not in principle. Tables are laid, the initial offerings are put down and at some juncture within thirty or forty minutes of the “scheduled” start, folks wander to the table. Plates of salad, cheeses, pate, eggplant laced with piquant sauces of the most perfect tomatoes and rich chilies, walnut sauces, cilantro, hummus (with rocket if you are lucky), preserves and bread are served. Then come the katchapouri, leavened bread with cheese and (if one is lucky), beet leaves baked into it; lamb, fish and veal dishes arrives, and the table starts under the weight of the food. Wine flows in delightful rivers, and he laughter measured both in delights chuckles and heartfelt guffaws is heard everywhere.
And then, they sing; there will be a choir of perhaps six singers who punctuate the evening with the haunting and captivating songs of Georgia. The exquisite and haunting polyphonic music of the region is immediately discordant to western ears, but it takes little time to become aware of a different and exciting musical genre. The songs are old; older than most of our countries and tell of love (requited and unrequited), peace, harmony, life and its interrelationships with the land and God. They are truly delightful, and add yet another dimension to the evening. However, this is not really the point.
The issue and history of the Supra is interaction; between families, business colleagues, warring parties or even sparring government departments (one imagines). It is a meeting place; it is the venue to allow ones feelings to be aired, and hear others by means of toasts, speeches and open emotion. It is a wonderful social leveller, and an environment that has been a key point that has allowed so many disparate, divisive and independent groups to co-exist.
Georgia’s many families, tribes, kingdoms, religious groups and interlopers could have evolved so differently. It could have mirrored the cauldrons that are the Middle East and the Balkans; it could have been pasteurised out of ethnographical existence as we seem to be trying to do in “The West”.
Not for Georgia is a future of lowest common denominators and a drive toward mediocrity; it is a country that takes challenge head on, and then resolves conflict through feast.