Georgian Public Transportation

I got my first email address in 1997. A Rocketmail account, which ironically I still have 13 years later. In the early days of email and the internet, few of my friends at Owatonna High School in Minnesota seemed to be online. My family had it because of my dad's employer. Consequently, during the early days of email my friends and I would forward eachother anything that seemed remotely cool. My personal favorite was a list entitled, "Ways to Know You Are from Minnesota."

This list was spot on. It included such gems as:

• You've trick or treated in a snow suit. (Halloween 1992 was a prime example).


• You know Lake Wobegan is not a real place. (Once I moved to Utah when people asked about Garrison Keillor I would also answer by saying, "You do know Lake Wobegan is not real, right?")


• You never thought you had an accent until you saw the movie Fargo. (This was very true for me.)
  

One may wonder what this list has to do with Georgian public transportation. Well, one of the items was:

• You have no concept of public transportation.
  

It's true. I didn't. In Owatonna there was the SCAT Bus (Steele County Area Transit), however, if one looked at the routes it became apparent very quickly that it was geared towards senior citizens based on the stops at the Owatonna Clinic, Sterling Drug Store, and Senior Place. My dad always wanted my sister and I to practice using it for the times in the future when we would live in places where real public transportation existed. This is something we never did as my sister argued she would never ride "the poop bus."

My first experience with public transportation was in Utah. I was practically in hysterics during the ride from the BYU campus to the Provo Olive Garden. (Not my finest dining moment I admit). My senior year I became somewhat more comfortable with it as that year the university gave us free passes to use the UTA bus system, however, I took it largely from my apartment to the Wilkinson Center and that was it). But that was a sanitized version of public transportation. As is the shuttle service in Springdale and Zion National Park, Utah. (But in Springdale the Zion Canyon Scenic Drive route does get old fast. I can only take so much of, "That is the sound of the canyon wren. Hello and welcome to Zion National Park!..." My friends and I probably drive tourists crazy by quoting the recording.)

The public transportation in Georgia is a far cry from Utah's. It makes me pine for Utah's. Even Israel's was better, and there I had to share buses and sheruts with IDF soldiers and their (supposedly) loaded M-16s and breakdowns in the middle of the Negev Desert. In Georgia, the majority of transportation is by marshrut'ka. It is a hellish way to travel. I've said it before and I will say it again:

The marshrut'ka is a level of hell that Dante could not have envisioned.

Any description of one is still not enough to full understand what it is. They are by and large filty Ford Transit vans crowed with as many people as humanly possible. Personal space is non-existant, and today I got to sit next to a man who reeked of cat urine. Some of the nicer ones have a handle bar to hold on to for those standing, but few drivers seem to want to make the $5.00 investment for supplies. Some of the nicer ones are Sprinters, and sometimes I wish I lived on the 139 route instead of the 140, because then I could be in a Sprinter. (After Zion Adventure Company I have a soft spot in my heart for them). Oh well. During the hot, dirty, humid Batumi summer, I referred to them as the "Airless Chambers." The windows usually open about 2 inches, making the ride even more unbearable. Sometimes I would see drivers drive with the side sliding door open in an attempt to help cut the stifling heat.

They do have 2 redeeming qualities. First, they are very, very cheap. I can get from my village (which is basically suburban Batumi) to Batumi for a mere 50 tetri, about 25 cents. I can make it all the way to the Turkish border for about 75 cents. Sometimes I wonder how the driver can break even between wages, gas, payments, and upkeep at the prices charged. Second, they do not have set stops. You and get on or off at any part of the route. You just yell at the driver to pull over, and he does. This, however, also is a big drawback to the world of marshrut'kas, as people here do not seem to want to walk anymore than necessary. The marshrut'ka will drop someone off, and drive literally 5 feet and someone else will want to either get off or on. The people are too lazy to walk to the marshrut'ka. Consequently, when a lot of this happens, the ride can easily become even more unbearable.

Turkey has them as well, and riding them is an absolute joy in comparasion. They are clean and not crowded with people. Maybe a person stands, that's all. Once my friend told me how the driver of his Turkish marshrut'ka would not let him get on until, get this, he was done putting CLEAN seat covers on the seats. How awesome is that? Georgians could learn a lot from Turkey's example in this regard. But I will continue to use marshrut'kas because there are no other options as we are forbidden to drive while in Georgia. But when I return to the US next month for my holiday, I will drive like crazy.