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Luke Franklin
Castle Rock, Colorado
Russian Studies,
International Studies
When I first told people that I was going
to study in Georgia’s capital, I had to
explain that I meant Tbilisi, not Atlanta.
Now many more Americans know where
Georgia is, and even the names of two of
its autonomous enclaves, South Ossetia
and Abkhazia.
I didn’t go to Georgia to learn about
foreign policy, or ethnic conflict, or even
Georgia, although the rumors I heard
about its cuisine and hospitality made
it seem like an accommodating place to
spend a semester. I set my sights on a
more basic goal: language. I wanted to
improve my Russian and start learning
Chechen, and Tbilisi seemed to be about
the only place in the world where this was
possible. The classes were intense, usually
lasting four to five hours a day. The intensity
was compounded by the fact that neither
of my instructors spoke English, and
I was the only student. Language teaches
you a lot about people. I couldn’t speak
Russian to anyone who grew up after the
fall of the Soviet Union; when I told someone
that I was learning Chechen, rather
than Georgian, I think I understandably
offended a few sensibilities. I learned very
quickly not to say that the two languages
had some similarities.
My host family’s
flat was just a
few blocks from
the center of
the protest. … I
learned quickly
about what
sends people
into the streets.
—Luke Franklin ’09
While I was there, Georgia entered our
news with a massive protest as changes in
the date of the presidential election were
announced. My host family’s flat was just
a few blocks from Parliament, the center
of the protest. By talking to people, stumbling
through English, Russian, and the few sentences of Georgian I had picked up, I
learned quickly about what sends people
into the streets, how media—local and
international—can shape people’s lives,
and that “democracy” doesn’t necessarily
mean what we think it means.
Georgia may be the most beautiful country
in the world. About the size of West
Virginia, it goes from its Black Sea coast
to the High Caucasus mountains (well over
14,000 feet), crowned by Mount Kazbek, or
Kazbegi, to the southeast, where vineyards
have been producing wine perhaps longer
than anywhere else in the world. Stone
churches, some almost one thousand years
old, are found not only all over Tbilisi and
the nearby religious capital Mtskheta, but
in remote towns and on mountain tops.
And it is impossible to meet a Georgian,
especially outside of Tbilisi, without being
offered bread, cheese, and homemade
wine, even at 9 a.m.
I didn’t see as
much of Georgia
as I would have
liked. But my
memories, and
my continued
study of the
Caucasus since
my return to
Macalester, have
convinced me
that it won’t be
long until I find
myself again in
the land of the
Golden Fleece.
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