The story of yesterday reminded me.

The Georgian Hospitality

It was in the second half of the 1980s. The Chernobyl disaster caught Belarus, and my mother decided, as far as possible, to take me and my sister away every summer. In that year, the decision was to go to Georgia, to Borjomi, because there my mother's cousin worked as a doctor.

Mother went (like the teacher, she has a long vacation in the summer), grandfather (he was already retired) and I and my sister. The relative did not pump, for the sake of his cousin, nephews and uncle went off, booked a luxurious two-bedroom room, which in his sanatorium was only 4 pieces. The place is beautiful, green, water is useful, and the air is such that a rabbit in a leopard turns in a week. But the problem in this paradise was also - the hammer. That is, there was a dining room in the sanatorium and there, of course, they fed, but the quality was terrible. I still cannot understand, why? Maybe the deficit of the late 1980s was already affected, maybe the staff was stealing, or maybe something else, but even I, at a young age, and then realized that something was not great at all.

But we figured. Aunt is a good heart, God give her many years and health, a Belarusian from a deaf village, having married her uncle, from a culinary point of view became a greater Jew than he himself. And when they moved to Georgia after his service in the SA, they were more Georgians than the Emeritians, the Mandrels and the Svanes combined. She has been cooking and cooking so far. For her cheesecake and chicken chicks, you can give her left hand. And for chakapuri, sacivi, and maconi you can safely give all the other limbs. Yes, there are women in Belarusian villages.

Knowing the deplorable culinary situation in the sanatorium, she took over us under the slogan, "The child is hungry, the child is pale, the child must be fed." She did not step back from this mantra. Nearly one day my grandfather went to them and returned with bags filled with various delicious snacks. We only had to buy vegetables and fruits on the market, for which she highlighted my cousin as a strike force, who explained perfectly in Georgian (for a beautiful girl, a real gigit can’t help but make a discount).

A uncle, a aunt and their daughters lived behind the sanatorium, in a three-storey building that they had built for staff. There was also a large private sector. You could get there both by the main road (minutes 12-15 walk), and by the mountain trail (once two shorter). The path was, of course, for employees and Aborigines, there was no sense for resting on it, and it was not recommended. I personally did not notice that the local people were against tourists, but the adults said that the tension was (the late 1980s, no matter how cool).

One evening, my grandfather, as usual, went to my aunt for another humanitarian. We waited for him in 30-40 minutes and an hour passed. Not a grandfather. Well, okay, I was delayed, Aunt - a man of salt, can terrorize anyone with food - even a child, even an adult. He was gone for two hours, two and a half, and three. It is already dark. My mother is worried, it is clear. It’s time to start looking, so we have to leave. It’s not that we’re bad guys, but still, to leave us all alone in the evening for a long time, even in the room in the sanatorium, she didn’t decide. I decided to call.

The phone in the room at the time was considered a big chic, we did not have it. She goes to her uncle's office, but he hasn't been there for a long time, the office is closed. She’s at the manager, not that either. While she found the phone, in that time probably 5 times to go to uncle and aunt could be. She called:
Where is Grandpa? “How did you go 3 hours ago?”
We all started to worry seriously.

The grandfather of growth is small and thin, but the male is very strong, despite 3 injuries and age-related wounds. That generation was made of steel. It only seemed that such people could be overwhelmed with a swallow, but in fact he, remembering his youth, could clean up three rounds. But these thoughts do not help much, for an hour as 4 grandparents are not. A little later, at 11 p.m. I need to call the police.

Then the door opens and the grandfather enters with his bags. He is such a cheerful man, and shakes from him young wine, fire, and shale. It turned out simple, he came out of his aunt, and went through the courtyard to the trail. There was a corner along the way where the building plates were lying. Whether they remained from the construction of a three-storey building, or they planned to build another building, and before that, their hands did not reach, but they lay there for many years.
During the day there patsanva played in the war, and in the evenings the men gathered for the seats. The plates were used as benches, and a mangal was placed next to them.

All of course their own, local, and here look at some golden with bags. The very already well-dated, hot Georgian blood has gotten. “Listen, who are you? I see you a lot, you go all out of the bag? Where was he? Go here, I’ll look at you.” Sitemap is tense.

The grandfather calmly approached, “No, not local. My nephew and wife were in this three-storey room. “Who is your brother?” Vitya I. his wife Zina. The tension immediately disappeared “Wah, wah, wah. Viti, my savior He saved him and he saved him. He is such a man. Sit down, with us, do not offend, the meat is ready, lawas fresh. Drink with us.”

Leaving the Georgian invitation to the feast is a fatal insult. And more than likely, their improvised furchette looked very seductive. Well, once he sat down, the toast after the toast, and the time went unnoticed. Grandfather would be happy,, to leave, but each of the company so wanted to drink with a relative of "such a man" that it was a sin to refuse. Everyone stated that he was Viti's best friend, as Viti helped him, and told his story. My grandfather stayed there for more than 4 hours, barely reaching the room. The next day we slept off, there was a very abundant meal.

Years have passed and I remembered this case. He asked:
- Grandfather, listen, and why was Uncle Vitu so honored and called the Saviour by the locals? Who did he work for?
How to Who? I thought you knew. His profession for Georgia was the most necessary and bread - a venereologist.