Fighting Cold

Cold. Not that this place is colder than say, Vermont. But cold is a life-threatening condition which in Vermont we have somehow learned to deal with well. Only when the car breaks down, the pipes freeze, or we read of some lost hiker are we reminded of the danger of cold. Not so here. It feels like more of a daily struggle. For example I'm trying to heat my apartment with two archaic space heaters. I figured out today that my apartment is about thirty square meters, with two large, single-pane windows, an air-leaking air-conditioning unit, a bathroom fan which pumps in cold air, and an internal door which leads to an open stairwell -- also leaking in cold air.

Today I taped over the bathroom fan with a plastic bag, bought a new space heater, and taped the door and windows with sticky foam padding. When the door and windows close now they push on the foam strips, and seal pretty tight. I tried masking tape around the air-conditioning unit, but the tape won't really hold. My new space heater is 'energy efficient' and shuts itself off fairly frequently. I don't know what its internal thermometer is guaging because it is still freezing out here. Maybe it is measuring 70 degrees an inch away from it's heating cells, but I'm measuring two sweaters, one hat, and one scarf over here. This isn't going to work.

I'm on the top floor of this building, and someone industriously put in a chimney and fireplace, so I actually have the possibility to make fires here. The problem is finding wood. This country does not have very much wood, and I've seen none for sale. Last year in Sighnaghi, we had to order a truckload of wood two weeks in advance, and have it delivered from another village in the valley. In Sighnaghi, it is common to see older women cutting little saplings and even brush, and hauling it back to their houses to burn. Winter is formidable here, and for the majority of people who can't order a truckload of wood, I don't know how they cope.

In Tbilisi there are gas lines that run to many apartments, so some people have gas heaters. The heaters and the gas are expensive. Most people have little electric space heaters with open red coils. Twelve years ago during the civil war, there was no electricity in Tbilisi all winter, and sometimes no gas or water either. My friends tell me that it was a time for real neighborliness; whole groups of families would share in making outdoor fires in the streets and cooking together. During the worst fighting, no one could go outside after twilight because of snipers and gunfire.

Today there are no gunfights, there is electricity, gas, and water, but still we fight the cold. It is flu season, and most people I know are sick. I've been sick for ten days. In the mornings I get up to cold, and the only way to get warm is exercising. Yoga is too tame. I'm relying on high school basketball warm-up routines right now. Nights are better because it's still cold but I'm getting into a warm sleeping bag under covers, hmmm. Days are full of sniffling since nose-blowing noises are some of the most offensive sounds to make in public.

Still no snow. Cold wind. Especially on the lookout points like Saint David's church where all the famous 19th century literati are buried, and up on Narikala Fortress. Muddy slush is coming I'm told, but now days are usually a battle against wind. Sometimes at night, the wind howls so loud outside the windows, whisking around on brooms between all the tall buildings. I imagine I am in a tall tree swaying back and forth, and hope that this will actually never happen. Solutions to cold will arrive soon I have no doubt. Meanwhile, work goes on with a background of trying to survive.

Aurelia is visiting from Sighnaghi where life is even more of a challenge without running water or electricity except late at night. She has a story or two to tell.


Dreaming a stillness
That falls swiftly like sudden
Snow in Tbilisi

Twelve stars bored of light
Without elegance or glamour
Flicker out tonight

Leaning gently north
Narikala’s bulwark idles
Sentinel to Wind