Archive for the Caucasus Category


Posted in Caucasus, English with tags , , , on 2013-06-19 by candycactus

Displaced people, robbed public money and overall unsustainable development as an effect of the neoliberalist logic  – same reasons for the protests across the world.

The film Ecümenopolis (2012) describes the background of Turkish protests, but the story is really similar in other places, like Brazil, where tens of thousands of people have been displaced due to the building of stadiums for the Olympic Games.

Sochi in North Caucasus, where Russia is preparing the Winter Olympic Games 2014 literally on the graves of Circassian people, suffers from the same fate. Will North Caucasus rise too?

Watch the film Winter of Discontent published by Al Jazeera.


And some more info, why to boycott Sochi 2014 Winter Olympic Games. 


No Name Picture

Posted in Caucasus, Photo, Poetry on 2012-11-14 by candycactus


Caucasian Brazilian Fusion

Posted in CandyCactus Music, Caucasus, Downloads, English, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , on 2010-09-30 by candycactus

back in Tbilisi, Georgia – the amazing, craziest, most surreal spot in the World.. A place where subconscious is all played out: people love, kill, steal, give everything to you, disappear as in a dream and come back transformed with stories of things that can happen for anyone in the rest of the world only in a dream…

Also back in Anna’s cellar in Barnova, again recording music. Here is the fruit of music recording last night (demo): a classical Brazilian song “Aguas de Marco” with Armenian duduk, Georgian panduri and Indian tampuri..!

version of “Agua De Beber”

Posted in CandyCactus Music, Caucasus, English, Music with tags , , , , , , , on 2010-08-30 by candycactus

Black version of Tom Jobim’s “Agua De Beber” – coctail of Brazil, Armenia and cactus, since it Armenian duduk and JHNO with strings in the background


Posted in Caucasus, English, Poetry, Stories and Tales with tags , , on 2009-06-03 by candycactus

“Some have entirely forgotten the lost heritage and the mystery of their abandonment; their games absorbed them, they have become gamblers, they have theories of chance, their talk is all of Progress of one sort or another. They forget the great mystery of life. We tramps and wanderers remember.”

“The town is one large house of which all the little houses are rooms.
The streets are the stairs. Those who live always in the town are
never out of doors even if they do take the air in the streets.”

“Then the spirit drove me into the wilderness to my mountains and
valleys, by the side of the great sea and by the haunted forests. Once
more the vast dome of heaven became the roof of my house, and within
the house was rebuilded that which my soul called beautiful. There I
refound my God, and my being re-expressed itself to itself in terms of
eternal Mysteries. I vowed I should never again belong to the town.”

“I never knew in advance where I should make my night couch; for I was Nature’s guest
and my hostess kept her little secrets. Each night a new secret was
opened, and in the secret lay some pleasant mystery.”

from “A Tramp’s Sketches” by Stephen Graham, a guy who hunded years ago was a tramp in Caucasus. His writings are like medicine healing the sadness being once in a while back in what they call civilization. I am back in Tbilisi, suffocating of cars, dust and noise. Will escape soon. Mountains are close.

Trade will save or enslave?

Posted in Caucasus, English, Stories and Tales, Travel diary, World Bike Trip with tags , , on 2008-05-14 by candycactus

Armenia. Just crossed the boarder and walked to Haghpat. Green valley. Exactly as I like it. Mist in the air, green, clouds, water.

There was a certain guy Sayat Nova, who used to write poetry in Armenian, Georgian, Persian and Azeri, he spent many years here in this black monastery, he must have been sad, since he loved the sister of the king, and for this was imprisoned and later killed here. Now Armenians and Georgians cannot agree, who’s poet he was. But who cares? Those days no one cared about the nationality, but now.. I found a quite place in the cemetery and slept there. Cemeteries are the quietest places anyway. And if the ghosts should visit me in the sleep, they are welcome.

Although it is nearly impossible to imagine Armenians and Azeris in one place without fighting after the Karabakh war, there is such a place. Close to the boarder between Georgian and Armenia there is a bazar called Ptgavan, which means “the paradise of fruits”. There they trade peacefully – Armenians, Azeris from Georgia and Georgians. Like in times of Sayat Nova. Trade will save the world? Well, at least the small scale trade seems to be an excellent way for people to communicate again.

Corporations are just about to swallow all small things on one hand. But if I think consequently – in terms of nationalism, corporations provide excellent transnational brands that mentally somehow connect people. It is not about being Muslim or Christian, it is more about having Nokia or Sony Ericsson mobile phone. Trade will save or enslave?

In the shadows of USHBA

Posted in Caucasus, English, Photo, Travel diary, World Bike Trip with tags , , , on 2007-09-18 by candycactus

It smelt like death. Dead meat. Must have been an animal or something, I thought. Hm, so this is the known Svaneti, the praised place. I was walking to Nakra, and looking at the pieces of woodlogs on the side of the small dirt road I thought only how I really like it small.. small mountains, small lakes, rivers, I missed Ajara, Spirakiai and felt so unfitting in that place. No people. Then a young woman with a child. We went to fetch some mzhave zkhali, the mineral water coming out from the ground. There used to be some tourist bases in soviet times. Many sovietzt toursist would come to hike around Ushba, bringing kedi, sportshoes that they would trade with locals to cheese and other food. Empty houses in Nakra. There used to be a sasadilo, an inn. I could imagine tourists flirting with the locals here on the stairs. Only ghosts remain.

I walk to the main street again, 6 km, no people, in the shadow of the narrow  valleys mountain. It is a little bit spooky, but there are no objective signs of what i should be afraid of.

In the main road there are no cars. In the way I enjoy the facts, since there is so much dust after anyone passes by. but now, the warm suns light is turning to dusk and i admitt to myselft that i dont want to walk here. one car comes from the front. we talk, they live in a village in the opposite  direction, say surprised xochax xochax, when they here my story, that i travel alone, by bike or by foot. Their excitement does not comfort me much, since I have read and heard of Svaneti being a little bit wild place. Therefore I let my bike in Batumi and came up by marshrutka.

They leave and I walk again. Strange, I think. THis landscape is not mine.


pics are here, look for Svaneti