Friday, September 7, 2012

Icon Delivery

 
 
I spent four days in Zestaponi, a horrfically boring industrial city.  Mari, the assistant assigned to Zestaponi out of default (her family lives there) invited me to join her, several family members and friends to deliver an icon to a chapel in the mountains about 7km from the city.  We all piled into a minivan, the windshield of which was cracked in a wide spider web.  After leaving the paved road, we ventured onto a dirt and rock one, cresting short but steep hills ending in large puddles formed by small streams.  I repeatedly stroked the back of the seat in front of me, chanting "Good little minivan." 
 
Eventually, the road became a trail consisting of solid rock too dangerous for the minivan so our group, adolescents to Mari's 85 year old grandma, made the trek to a small chapel nestled in the mountains. Dedicated to the Holy Apostles, it is watched over by three monks.
 
 

Mari's grandmother, whose name I never heard nor would have retained, tackled ascents and descents.  At times, I held her hand.  Her skin reminded me of my own grandmother's, soft and papery.
 


The chapel from a distance.

 
 
Processing with the icon, a solemn event.
 

I have no idea what the name of this fruit is in English.  In Turkish, it's called altın çilek (golden flower).  They're like little sweet and sour tomatoes in a papery flower wrapper.  No one would eat them but me.


The delivered icon of a saint who's name I can't remember.  The chapel is very important to Mari's family, so her uncle had this made to dedicate to it.  Such dedications are common in Georgia.
 

From the relatively new chapel (19th century), we went down then up again to a church whose foundations date to the 6th century.  From there, you cross a rickety wooden bridge over a small stream, then descend this set of stairs made of uneven timbers to reach the baptismal pool below.

 
 
The water of another mountain stream has formed a small pool.  I do not know if the faithful are currently baptised in it, and I would not trust the metal ladder to support me for long before immersion.  The bottom doesn't look far, yet the clear water can be deceptive.