I’ve met my fair share of characters during my travels. Some have become good friends, others have been insufferable, while others have been oddly fascinating. As you can probably guess by now, this is someone who is a champion of the third category. Although my total interaction with this man was less than ten minutes, he is someone who, for better or for worse, I will never forget as long as I live. Now, without further ado, here is the story of Tomasz, the drunken fruit salesman.

It was the early evening of a mid-October day in Kazbegi, Georgia. Hanka and I had just gotten down from a full day’s hike on the mountain (yes, the mountain that tried to kill me three years earlier), and we were on our way back to our guesthouse. The sun was just starting to set and the two of us were tired and hungry from the day’s long hike. As we made our way through the town, I noticed a fruit stand on the side of the road. It was still over an hour until our dinner would be ready, and since I knew my hunger wouldn’t be able to last that, I suggested we buy something to hold our appetites over.

We approached the stand and were instantly greeted by an older bearded man with a friendly smile that showed all six of his teeth. I said hello and then asked, “Можно мы несколько абрикосов и два банана?” (Can we have some apricots and two bananas?) In a loud, booming voice, he replied, “Это Грузия! Вам нужно вино!” (This is Georgia! You need wine!) Right away, he took out this massive jug of red wine (approximately 10 liters) and filled half a glass jar for me and a full one for Hanka. He then asked where we were from, and when we answered, he exclaimed in English this time, “America good! Czechia good! Georgia good!”

“Да. Грузия - это очень красивая страна.” (Yes. And Georgia is a very beautiful country) I said trying to be polite with our boisterous new friend.

“Georgia!” he yelled again. It was clear he had been drinking.

Not wanting to be pulled into a long drinking event on an empty stomach, I quickly finished the wine he gave me so we could be off on our way. Unfortunately, right after finishing, I noticed excessive dirt sediment at the bottom of the glass. I looked over at Hanka who had not yet started drinking hers yet (as she had noticed the substantial amount of dirt in her glass too). Before I could say anything, the man quickly refilled my mug, this time all the way to the top. I hesitated. It was now becoming clear that we weren’t going to be able to leave for a while. Meanwhile, Hanka’s face strongly indicated that she did not want to drink her wine and dirt mixture. “Hmmm… What to do?” She asked.

As this went on, our drunken bearded friend was eager to share more. Without hesitation, he reached behind his fruit stand and pulled out cheese. “Сыр барана. Я сделаю сам.” (Sheep’s cheese. I made it myself). He then motioned for us to eat. I looked at the piece he handed me and saw that it was just as dirty (if not more so) as the wine mug. Nonetheless, he was very insistent we try it. ‘Well here goes potential giardia,’ I thought to myself as I reluctantly took a bite. Despite the dirt particles crunching in my teeth, it wasn’t that bad.

“America, Czech, cыр (cheese) good?” he asked.

Being polite so as not to be offered anything else, we both attempted to smile.

“У вас есть детей?” (Do you have children?) he asked. We both looked at each other, laughed and shook our heads ‘no’. “Давай вино! Помогает!” (Let’s drink wine! It helps!) …What to do… Thinking quickly, I remembered I had an empty water bottle in my backpack. I opened it and poured our wine into the bottle. Before he could ask, I explained that we had been hiking on the mountain all day and we needed to get dinner before we drank more. The man seemed to understand and offered us some more. Without giving us a chance to object, he hoisted his large jug and attempted to pour it into our water bottle. Unfortunately, his aim wasn’t so good and he poured far more than could fit through the small hole at the top of the bottle.

“My backpack!” exclaimed Hanka. I looked down and saw that her backpack on the ground was now getting a wine shower from the man’s pour. She pulled it away and I told the man we had enough wine. He then asked for our names. We answered and then asked for his. “Tomaz!” He yelled. “Tomaz from Georgia! Georgia!” He raised one hand triumphantly into the air and used the other to take one more swig of wine. I looked over to Hanka who was both laughing and trying to dry off her bag. Both of us seemed to agree that it was time to go. I paid Tomaz for the fruit and thanked him for the wine quickly so we wouldn’t get pulled into anything else.

Rendition of wine getting poured on the backpack

“До свидания! (Goodbye) Georgia good?”

“Да. Очень.” (Yes. Very much) we answered

“Georgia!” he exclaimed one more time. And with that, we left.

As we walked away, I said, “So… that happened. “Georgia!” she responded and we both laughed.

“How is your bag?” I asked.

“Wet, but ok. How was your cheese?”

“Dirty. And yours?”

“Very dirty. I think there were hairs on it.”

Still very hungry, we walked to our guesthouse, even more determined to get dinner. We just needed to do one thing first - get some Georgian chacha (a very strong liquor made from grapes) to kill any potential food poisoning from the dirty cheese. Although our encounter was just a matter of minutes overall, Tomaz was a character neither of us will ever forget.