gians to remind the Russians that thernformer were Christian and civilized forrncenturies while the Russians were stillrnbarbarians. Despite Tbilisi’s many pillagesrnand occupations, the Georgian OrthodoxrnChurch has been a centripetalrnforce. One Sunday I visited severalrnchurches, all full. Even for a visitor, beingrnin fifth-century churches is awesome,rnespecially while hearing a Georgianrnchoir. The Georgian Church was heavilyrnpersecuted by the Soviet communists,rnand in 1951 the head of the church toldrnan American reporter that out of 2,455rnchurches, only 100 were functioning. Allrnthat has changed as of 1995.rnOne day the accomplished painterrnLevan Chogoshvili was showing me contemporaryrnpaintings in several galleries,rnsome of which had his own work, hi arnkind of revolt, before Georgia gained itsrnindependence, he had begun paintingrnscenes from generations of his family lifernas revealed in old photographs. Suchrnsubjects had been forbidden becausernREADERSrnIf • • ^’« • • • • «rnIIrn(HI ll.li’rnInciklsoi rel;ilicsrnuho nKi cn]ornChronicles,rnplease send us theirrnnames andrnaddresses.rnWe would bernpleased to sendrnthem arncomplimentaryrnissue! irnthey were bourgeois and even nationalistic,rnheaven forbid. These paintingsrncould not be shown publicly. Levan saidrnit was a kind of requiem for the family,rnsome of whom had been killed by thernBolsheviks, others repressed becausernthey might have graduated from a Germanrnuniversity, for example, after thernturn of the century and thus were suspect.rnHe had arranged for me to meetrnDavid Aleksidze, another painter, whorninvited us to lunch at his apartment.rnAleksidze had studied in Venice for arnyear, but he did not think there wasrnmuch for him to learn there. After fruitrnand champagne he brought out veryrnlarge canvasses of macabre nudes, oftenrnin masks or other exotic accessories, andrneverything I saw was highly finished. Hernknew his craft. Before we left, a man inrnhis early 20’s came in, another painterrnand friend of them both. It turned outrnthat he would soon be returning to studyrnat a university in Scotland. Aleksidzernsmiled and said, “He’s Stalm’s greatgrandson.”rnI thought he was kidding.rnHe was not. As I recall, the grandson saidrnhis greatest desire at the moment was tornplay the steel guitar.rnTengiz soon returned from Batumirnand invited me to take a ride on thernfunicular up St. David’s Mountain wherernI could have the best view of the city.rnThere were a couple of limousinesrnparked at the base. When Tengiz askedrnabout them, he was told the former kingrnof Georgia was visiting at the top. Werndid not see him but instead we went insiderna huge restaurant that had been guttedrnby shell fire. I had seen this buildingrnall lit up at night from my room below.rnBeria, also a Georgian and Stalin’s headrnof security, a terrible man, had it built.rnOddly, amidst all the rubble there was arnfolkloric triptich by a 20th-eenturyrnpainter, full of a crowd of citizens ofrnTbilisi, including the painter. It hadrnbeen spared.rnHalfway down the mountain, we gotrnoff the funicular and walked to St.rnDavid’s church and cemetery. This is arnkind of pantheon of important Georgianrnheroes, statesmen, scholars, and artists.rnTengiz ticked off the names of famousrnpoets and educators as we passed theirrngraves, and then casually remarked,rn”Here’s Stalin’s mother.”rnGeorgia has always had a fascinationrnfor Russians. Tolstoy wrote the first andrnsecond drafts of Childhood while hernstayed in a German suburb of Tbilisi andrnreceived medical treatment for a recurringrndose of clap. Gorky and Pushkinrnalso visited. One Georgian described thernRussian love affair with Georgia in thisrnway: it’s like a drunk husband married torna beautiful woman, and the husbandrncries that he loves her and cannot livernwithout her, and then gives her a soundrnthrashing.rnEver since I read Lermontov’s A Hewrnof Our Time and his description of thernCaucasus Mountains and the GeorgianrnMilitary Road, I had wanted to visit.rnTengiz introduced me to Zaal Kikodze, arnslender, bearded man, who is an archaeologistrnby profession and mountainrnclimber by avocation. Zaal has been doingrnsome very exciting research alongrnwith Professor Reid Ferring of the Universityrnof North Texas in the paleoarchaeologyrnof Georgia. The artifacts hernhas discovered appear to be 1.5 to 1.8rnmillion years old, thus pushing the usualrndate of man moving out of Africa.rnZaal agreed to take me along this historicrnhighway in his four-wheel drive vehiclernall the way to Kazbegi. On the wayrnwe stopped at Mtzkheta, one of the oldestrntowns in the worid still inhabited, andrnthe ancient capital of the kingdom. Inrnthe general area is a burial ground fromrnthe Iron Age. The most strikmg aspectrnof Mtzkheta is the great cathedral, Sveitskhovelirn(the Life-giving Pillar), built inrnthe 11th century, I believe, destroyed byrnTamerlane and his merry men, then rebuiltrnin the 15 th century.rnThe trip along the Aragvi River, thenrnclimbing almost 8,000 feet to Krestovirn(or Djrari) Pass, then down the divide tornthe town of Kazbegi is worth the wholerntrip to Georgia. At the pass, we stop tornlook up and down the valley, the dizzyinglyrnbeautiful, small villages at the bottom,rnwhereupon a group of Georgianrnmen eating and drinking vodka insistrnthat we have a drink with them, thisrnat nine in the morning. We continue onrnour journey, and before the descent wernsee farmers cutting hay with handrnscythes in the meadows. At one pointrnZaal gets out where a small stream crossesrnthe road. The melting snow red withrniron oxide becomes a small waterfall, andrnhe catches a drink of the famous mineralrnwater, while others who have stopped fillrntheir bottles. Now on the other side ofrnthe divide, the river that accompanies usrnis the Terek.rnBefore we get to the town of Kazbegi,rnZaal points out Mt. Kazbegi. What arnmountain! Sixteen thousand five hundredrnfifty-four feet from sea level, 11,000rn40/CHRONICLESrnrnrn