Farmers market

Today I accompanied some of my colleagues to a CARE-sponsored market set up to connect rural farmers with urban buyers. There were a lot of familiar sights: dogs, strollers, and ladies selling cheese, honey and vegetables. There weren't nearly as many hippies as my hometown market, but there were adorable old ladies pushing hot sauce and even a cotton-candy stand.
And plenty of the uniquely Georgian. Above is fresh churchella, a sweet made by threading walnuts on a string and dipping it in a giant cauldron bubbling with a thick paste of grape juice and lord only knows what else. Definitely an acquired taste (that I have not acquired).
And then there was the folk dancing with accordion and lots of jolly drunk dudes singing along.

I now understand that grapes are the Georgian equivalent of zucchini this time of year. Stand still long enough, and somebody will press a sackful on you. Same goes with fresh homebrewed wine.

I'm not complaining.