Bazaar

Saturday we took a long walked to the bazaar, through several construction zones.  Actually I think this whole city is a construction zone.   Laurel wanted me to get a chance to see the city, the problem was that I was too busy trying to place my feet and cane. 

This bazaar covered several blocks.  Part had overtaken a park and part was in two story sheds including the ally in between.  Items were hung across the walkway at just under six foot.  So my head was hitting everything from shirts to soccer balls.  Vendors were grouped by the products they carried.  So all the plumbing supplies were together, and the meat in another area, house wear, ect.  The smell from the meat market and fish mongrels was unpleasant, so Laurel wanted to keep moving in that area.  At least on merchant did have a large log on end for a chopping block.  Imagine cleaning the end grain of that chopping block.  Most the stalls were small.  In the clothing stalls, they had two straight back chairs side by side against the back wall where they could sit and wait with their shoulders touching each other and the walls.  The goods were hung on the walls up at least ten feet.  If someone wanted to try on a pair of jeans, they hung a sheet across the bottom of the stall.

I was talking that I wanted to buy a bottle of wine that evening, when Laurel realized that she did not have a corkscrew.  So now we had something to shop for.  We found it.  And as Laurel was paying for it, the vendor realized we were Americans.   He pulled out two little stools, and made us sit.  Then washed out a set of little traditional glasses.  So he could pour us some of his home made wine that he had in a old pickle jar.   Toasted Americans.  As he spoke no English, and we speak no Georgian, he panimind “drink a little we be friends, drink a lot we fight.”   Next he decided we needed food, so off he went and got a can of olives.  Nice break from shopping.  Then he took off again after motioning that we should stay, and brought back a bottle of wine in a really cool bottle that he gave us.  He really lost on that sale.

That is the start of my wine bottle collection.

We took a short cab ride home, as my feet and legs were killing me.

Looking down at the area between the two shed from the second floor catwalk