It is said that Georgia is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. It’s also said that this is one of the oldest parts of the world where civilization was founded, that it’s a country in which Christianity became the state religion before any modern European country, and that it’s a country which wasn’t afraid to oppose the great Russia. There is said and written a lot of different things about Georgia, that really are insignificant in comparison with what is experienced on-spot. Everything we read and hear has an entirely different meaning after we go there and see, taste, smell, touch, listen to the locals and just try to understand them, forgetting about not necessarily true mix of information available for us by mass media. However, with every passing day the memories becomes blurred, details disappear - the sounds, smells, colors, and we forget the names. Everything we have seen, what we know fades, remaining expressionless. After some time the only thing for us is, it's an emotion. I still remember when I smiled at my newborn sister, although I can’t remember how she looked in the cradle. I also remember the immense sadness at the loss of a loved one many years ago, even though I don’t remember her face. Key events in our life squeeze emotional imprint, which will never be able to get rid of, even though if we tried very hard. But it isn’t worth trying. The memory of what had happened somehow defines us who we are. The man who wouldn’t have the past labeled emotions behind him couldn’t hold his own personality and among the eight billion people cease to be an exceptional and unique. I think, when I will be dying and get a chance even for a few seconds to consciously say goodbye to the world, my short trip to Georgia will be one of the emotional images that will flash before my eyes. Just a few days spent there, carved somewhere deep inside of me so enormous stigma, that I wouldn’t be able to ever forget it. About such a kind of deeply understanding i am writing about. I don’t remember complicated place names and maybe even the names of people whom I met. But I will always remember what I felt. On the plane to Tbilisi, I met a man who at age 65, after more than thirty years, decided to fly to Georgia to visit his friend. It seemed to me a little bit exaggerated pathos, as this man told me that he was flying, becouse he don't want to die without visiting Georgia again. For me it was naive to think that after more than thirty years without contact with each other can survive friendship, and I for me it was totally irresponsible idea to live for two weeks with that person. Who knows what during those thirty years could happen and how much this man may have changed. People are changing and those who were good a month ago now may not be. I listened to a man from the plane and felt how much I don't understand him and how much abstractive is to me what he said. I didn't think that, as I meet him on the plane during return flight, I will realize how wrong I was.
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