I shouldn’t have had such an obscenely large breakfast. The toast and eggs and yogurt and sliced cheese and cucumbers bounced around in my stomach until the mere act of sitting still was uncomfortable.

But then again, I wasn’t sitting still at all. Like the morning’s breakfast in my gut, I too was being bounced around, violently at times.

My driver (re: vehicular sadist) really had no business being a driver. He clearly had neither a sense of self-preservation nor any sense of duty to protect the lives of those he drove.

I was in a marshrutka, a Georgian minibus, bounding up the Caucasus Mountains towards the town of Kazbegi and it’s mountain namesake, with labored yet exuberant speed; jerking forward and back as the windows rattled noisily.

This particular marshrutka didn’t seem fit for the road at all – the side door was held shut with a bungee chord and the vehicle’s rickety wobble seemed to indicate that something was very wrong with the alignment.

And then there was the road. The Georgian Military Highway. Both the word “road” and “highway” should be taken very lightly here. It was more a vague dirt track punctuated by scrambled re-bar than an actual road. (But, I would come to find that this was actually one of the better “maintained” mountain roads in the whole country.)

We, inconsequential passengers, received the full effect of the combination of this road, this driver and this marshrutka. We were tossed about the cabin left to right, front to back, frequently smacking our heads against the inside roof – helpless to stop the unnatural thrashing we were enduring.

Yet even through the relentless thwaking, the views and scenery screamed to be ogled at. Lush vegetation, impossibly steep cliff-faces and jagged mountain peaks jumped out from every turn.

Oh, and sheep. Everywhere sheep! Hundreds of them blocking the road, running next to the road, frolicking through deep green valleys and trudging through snow the higher we climbed. I’ve never seen so many sheep in a single day.

_____________

I should mention, I’ve never been one to mind an arduous journey – often the more challenging the path, the more impressive the destination. Kazbegi definitely falls into this category.

So even though it was a more turbulent minibus ride than I had anticipated, I was amped to see the mountain and Gergeti Trintiy Church, which resides in the peak’s shadow.

This isolated 14^th century church is practically the symbol of the region and is one of the most recognizable landmarks in all of Georgia. It’s been a place of worship, a storage facility for ancient relics and a safe haven for the religiously persecuted.

Even today, Gergeti adheres to strict Orthodox traditions – not only must women cover their heads with a scarf, but both men and women must don (super sexy) floor-length black wrap skirts simply to enter the church.

Inside is a dimly lit hallow that smells strongly of incense and wax. Icons dot the stone walls and a small alter can been seen through the smoky haze of ever-burning candles.

The fact that Gergeti Church is still standing is something of an anomaly. Kazbegi sits just fifteen kilometers from the Russian border and is sandwiched in between the oft-contested autonomous regions of North Ossetia, South Ossetia, Ingushetia and Chechnya.

This area of the world has seen centuries of volatility and violence, strife and calls for sovereignty. Yet standing next to the church, peering down at the town below, it’s hard to imagine the place embroiled in conflict.

__________

I traveled to Kazbegi to see a church and instead ended up basking in an unexpectedly enchanting mountain town with views that would creep into my thoughts for months to come.

Maybe it was something to do with the hundreds of sheep I’d seen along the way (I do love sheep) or standing in a centuries-old church in a deeply pious region or finally visiting an area I’d long been curious about, but something about Kazbegi has remained at the forefront of my mind.

And it’s not so much the sweeping views that pop into my head, but rather the feeling of standing on that mountain – how exuberant and unbridled and carefree and small I felt.

No, I did not feel like I could take on the world! Or that I was invincible! Ha, hardly. But I did feel presently content, a feeling that tends to be somewhat elusive for me.

I wasn’t thinking of all the things I had to do or wanted to do next. I wasn’t thinking about how I would write about the place, a habit I often and unfortunately fall into.

I wasn’t comparing it to other places, other trips; pre-selecting what adjectives would most effectively describe it.

I wasn’t thinking about anything really. I was just consciously in the place, the moment. I was content and thankful and, yes, possibly mildly concussed, but present.

It was a rare peaceful moment of simply being. It was a moment of NOW and not NEXT.

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After hiking back down the mountain, I ate khinkali and sipped a Kazbegi beer while waiting for the next marshrutka back to Tbilisi.

The ride back was just as jarring as the assent and apparently the learning curve for “don’t-eat-right-before-a-jarring-bus-ride” was pretty steep because my stomach churned the entire ride down from the mountains.

As soon as I got out of the minibus in Tbilisi, I threw up in a laughably (and regrettably) dirty bathroom at the bus terminal. Then I went home to my oddly clingy and somewhat unnerving guesthouse family who force-fed me cake and wine.

As I changed for bed that night and pressed my fingers into already bruising, purple patches of skin all over my body from my minibus thrashing, I couldn’t help but think that regardless of everything, that moment of peace on the mountain had made it damn near a perfect day.

Know Before You Go:

– The town of Kazbegi (officially called Stepantsminda) is a great launch point for multi-day treks and hikes.

– Bring a head scarf ladies.

– Have some small change to buy candles inside the church – 10 GEL gets you 10 candles

– Be prepared for any weather as it shifts really quickly up there.

– Don’t plan on sleeping during the drive.

-The hike to Gergeti Trinity Church (also called Tsminda Sameba) is about 2-3 hours. You can also hire a Jeep to drive you up (but I consider that cheating!)

– Be cautious about your food intake before the drive. Just trust me on this one.