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Changamire at GIFT: Part 1-3 - Departures and Arrivals

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Introduction

I am Changamiré, a Jazz/R&B singer in Washington, DC, USA. This story is about my performance at the 8th Annual Georgian International Festival of the Arts (GIFT), the weekend of June 11, 2004, in the warm and charming city of Tbilisi, the capital of the Republic of Georgia. I have always wanted to perform abroad, and Tbilisi was the perfect city to first partake of such an endeavor.

Leaving Home

Clifton Brockington, my pianist, and I were scheduled to leave DC on Tuesday, June 8. On June 3, I called the travel agent to confirm that my tickets had been mailed to me. I was told that the flight from Paris to Tbilisi had been cancelled and that they had been desperately searching for an alternate route for us. The new proposed route was scheduled to arrive in Tbilisi at 1:00 AM, six hours after famous Georgian actress and GIFT Director Keti Dolidze was to meet us at the Tbilisi airport. I paced back and forth while the agent was on the phone, trying to talk this new problem away while thinking of all the people I needed to get this new information to. I accepted the new itinerary and had the agent express the tickets to me, and notified Georgia and Russia about the change.

One of my sponsors, L.A. Executive Services, provided car transportation to and from the airport for Clifton and I. When Clifton arrived to my house, music was blasting and relatives and I were merry and bustling about. The airport car soon arrived, and I became nervous: I was going on a long trip to perform abroad, and was leaving my husband, Lincoln. We have not separated for any length of time since our marriage a year and a half ago.

Clifton took his luggage and got in the car. Everyone was rushing me out of the house, but I managed to stay behind with Lincoln. I was sad and scared to leave him and was holding back tears. He tried to make me smile or laugh, and then he kissed me. We left the house and I joined Clifton in the back seat of the car. I watched Lincoln chat with and shake the driver's hand. Afterwards, he shook Clifton's hand, thanked him, and closed the car door. Then we drove off.

Layovers and Airports with Jet Lag

Our itinerary was from DC to Paris to Prague to Tbilisi. There was a 7-hour layover in Paris, and our transfer happened to be in an unusually horrendous wing of the De Gaulle airport at 6:00 AM Paris time. We walked the short airport wing for a few minutes and grabbed some McDonald's. Half sleepwalking, I thought Clifton wanted to kill me and regretted his decision to come on the trip. But he found a chair in a corner and got some sleep. One of us had to stay awake so that we wouldn't miss the flight to Prague, so I did.

The airport in Prague was immaculate. We had gotten more sleep on the flight there, so we were energetic and excited about exploring the airport and its beautiful views. We bought Prague tee shirts, postcards, and handicrafts, but the crystal was too expensive to buy during this trip. We really enjoyed Prague's airport. Our layover was too short there.

At about 2:00 AM local time, our airplane descended into Tbilisi, Georgia. I asked Clifton, who was sitting at the window, what he could see. He said there wasn't a lit cityscape, only single lights scattered scarcely about. The plane pulled towards a bus outside of the terminal, and we exited into the chilly night air.

Waiting at the gate was Keti Dolidze. Big smiles when we saw each other. Keti's presence is so dominant that it seemed as if everyone in the small airport, including customs, bowed to it. She had an entourage of assistants (who all looked like they could kill me for arriving at such an hour). But Keti directed us through the visa process and we left for the hotel.

Our Arrival

Tbilisi roads from the airport to the Marriott were long and dark with few if any traffic lights. Along the entire way, beside the road, were lighted tent-like convenience stores open for business. Had there been lots of people roaming about, I would have thought it was 2:00 AM in New York City. Even our driver made us wonder about this as he swerved and swayed at seemingly high speed, avoiding potholes and passing other cars. At one point, Clifton and I looked at each other at the same time, wondering if we were going to have an accident.

Keti asked me about the woman, Tatiana, waiting for me at the hotel. I told her that my colleague asked Tati to stay with me during my visit to Tbilisi. I had not told Keti about Tati because I thought I would arrive at the hotel first and Tati would join me later and be my roommate. But Tati had already arrived and checked into my room. Keti asked, "She's Russian, eh?" Tati was. I had wondered if Tati accompanying me was going to cause problems, when I knew that Georgia's conflict had been with Russia, but then recalled that Keti was the leader of a peace movement and figured it would not be an issue. The issue was quickly dropped and Keti proceeded to direct our attention to buildings and statues of interest en route to the hotel.

We arrived at the Marriott and it was quite grand. It had the familiar American feel, but adorned with Georgian décor and finishes. As we checked in, Keti told us to get some sleep and have breakfast, because she would return to pick us up at noon to take us to a press conference. We felt like celebrities.

Keti left and the bellboy showed us to our rooms. Clifton and I parted into each of our rooms and said we would meet for breakfast. I knocked on my room door to let Tati know I was entering. She and I had been introduced online by my colleague a couple of years earlier. She was a DJ in Moscow and he gave her Only Human , which she played occasionally in clubs. I had awakened her when I entered the room. We saw each other, ran to each other and hugged as if we were long-time friends. She was drop-dead gorgeous and full of life.

Around 10:00 AM, the concierge called to wake us. It was a great Thursday morning. The view from our balcony seemed majestic: Tree-covered mountains were practically next-door, and the weather was clear and sunny with a fresh, light breeze as people and traffic moved hastily about.

Tati and I called Clifton, so that we could go to the breakfast buffet together, which ended at 11:00. Our waitress was the sweetest and kindest and a bit timid. She softly greeted and attended to us, making only small conversation. She was the essence of the warm, Georgian hospitality that I had read so much about.

I recorded Clifton, asking him about his first morning in Tbilisi. He's got quite a sense of humor, constantly keeping Tati and I in stitches. So joking and more giggling were recorded. And Tati felt it necessary to give me a tip about the press conference. She said that I would be asked about my political views and told me to say nothing.

The Press Conference

We finished eating around 11:30 and returned to our rooms to get ready for the press conference. We hurried to get dressed and made up, knocked on Clifton's door, and rushed to the lobby.

There was Keti, the star, dressed in another breezy, flowing, ethnic dress. She was with two women and they motioned us to sit down. The women were managers of the hotel who wanted to meet the performers for their event. It turns out that Keti had promised the hotel that we would perform for them. This was a second show that Clifton and I knew nothing about. We were initially scheduled to perform Friday night for the GIFT festival. This new show was scheduled for Saturday evening at our hotel. Keti continued to explain that the performance was for Ambassadors and VIP's. Just as we did in the car from the airport, Clifton and I looked at each other at the same time. I knew this was something I would have to talk to him about later, but at that moment, we shook hands and smiled at the managers and Keti.

We left the hotel and got in the same car with the same driver that had brought us from the airport. We were going to the art gallery of famous Georgian artist, Rusudan Petviashvili, for the press conference. The driver drove in the same chaotic manner, this time in daylight with lots of traffic. It turns out that everyone in Georgia drives this way. Horns are constantly blowing around us as the car leans us left and right as it races through tons of car and pedestrian traffic. We catch glimpses of age-old buildings and streets of Tbilisi, filled with modern businesses and people, slightly reminiscent of Paris with less commercialism.

We safely arrived at the art gallery and were whisked in and greeted. As an art collector, I was immediately drawn to Rusudan's work on the walls. There were framed pieces as well as elaborate paintings drawn directly onto the walls and doors. I inquired about one black and white piece and was told it was very expensive. The piece stayed on my mind throughout my stay in Tbilisi.

Keti, her assistants, Clifton, Tati, about six journalists, and I gathered around a coffee table for the press conference. Two journalists asked all of the questions, and Keti translated. They asked about my musical influences, gospel influences, my style, my musicians, the state of jazz, and my impression of Tbilisi. Then, a different journalist, who sat stone-faced and quiet during the entire time, asked about my political views. My answer was sincere but very general, and everyone, including the stone-faced journalist, seemed pleased with it.

A Taste of Georgia

After the press conference, we mingled a short while in the gallery and met artist Rusudan herself. I told her about my favorite piece and said I would be in touch with her about it. Photographers took pictures of us together. Then Keti, her assistants, Clifton, Tati and I left the gallery to drive to the Tumanishvili Theatre of Film Actors, Keti's theatre.

Once there, we entered the theatre door from a street so narrow that it seemed as if we had parked on the sidewalk. Keti first showed us the theater, where actors were rehearsing for a performance. It was a nice sized theater. Clifton later said that he would have liked us to perform in it. I thought it had a nice, natural darkness to it, which would set the perfect mood for any dramatic performance.

We were then taken into Keti's office. But it was not the typical office that corporate America, or even artistic America, is used to. The walls were dark red and draped with velvety costumes and oversized black and white photos of past actors. The room contained bold and elaborately detailed, mahogany antiques. The table was centered and covered with working papers. The magnificent cupboard leaned against the perfect-sized wall. It reminded me of a parlor in a 1940's movie, yet it was treated as a workspace by our hosts.

Our tour of the Tumanishvili Theatre ended in its lobby. It had dark red walls, with scattered, antique benches and side tables along them. The pieces were as magnificent as the ones in Keti's office. A large photo of Mikhail Tumanishvili, the great Georgian director, graced the main wall of the lobby. Keti pointed it out proudly.

Then we were whisked away to Hotel Old Tbilisi to look at the setup for our upcoming performance. The hotel was small, charming, and elegant. The room for the performance had a nice size stage with a grand piano, and the walls had black and blue colored, framed posters of jazz greats, including Billie Holiday, Miles Davis, and Dexter Gordon.

On to Part 2...

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