Georgian Moment

Georgian Moment


I went down to the Philharmonia to meet my friend John for a beer and game of chess. We took the underground passage to a nearby park, and sat down on yellow plastic lawn chairs in front of a beer stand. After talking for awhile, John pulled out his chessboard and we began to set up pieces.

Right away, an intoxicated man from the next table came over and said in English, “my friend wants to play!” I said, no, no, but John said, okay. Of course he meant he would play the winner of our game.

We started our game and periodically another man would peer over to check our progress. John mentioned that the building at the edge of the park was a chess tournament hall, so no telling who could be drinking a beer out here. I think most chess Grandmasters have come from Russia, -that is for men, but Georgia has the most female Grandmasters in the world. Certainly, there is a large chess culture here, and we had no idea if a hidden talent waited to kick our butts.

Once, when I took a few minutes to make a key move, our onlooker said, no, no, no! You must do this! And he showed me another move that lead to a new sequence of outcomes. But after studying this series of developments, John and I realized it wasn’t a very strong recommendation. I said, ‘who is playing here, me or you?’ in my finely acquired Georgian street belligerence. He backed off a little. Very bad form to nose into someone else’s chess game.

But when the game ended, he wanted to be friends. Irakli was the name. He sat down with us at the table, and in very amiable English wanted to know where we were from, how long we had been in Georgia, whether we liked it… the usual questions. He mentioned that he was a singer, and wanted to know if we knew any songs. I hesitated to affirm because I was still skeptical of someone who had very clearly crossed the boundaries of etiquette when observing a public chess game: silence! But eventually I let on that I was also interested in Georgian singing.

Before we knew it, he had me singing with him, and we went through three songs there in the park. Later, I said my main interest was in sacred music, and he said, ‘oh, my good friend is a chanter, do you know Tamaz at the Conservatory?’ Of course I know Tamaz. So he whipped out his cell phone, called Tamaz, and yelled excitedly into the receiver, ‘guess who I’ve met? One American named Joni who knows Georgian songs pretty well, do you know him?’ Then I talked to Tamaz, and it was settled, we were true Georgian buddies: we had drunk together, sung together and, most importantly, we had mutual acquaintances in important places!

Irakli wanted us to stay and drink more, but we declined. Leaving, John and I laughed about how absolutely Georgian the experience had been. We’re both going to miss the spontaneity and warmth of this place; the everyday experiences.