Georgian Dance

On our last nıght in Tbilisi we went to a local restaurant in Marjanishvili. At around 10pm we stepped into an underground brick cavern that could once have been a warehouse. The place was empty apart from an enormous man in his 50s, sleeping in one corner, and four young Georgians in another. As we walked past the bar İ realised with terror that the dining area resembled a dance floor.

As we tucked into dumplings and beer, two young Georgian men jumped up from their table and confirmed my fears. As they paced up and down the room, the music grew louder - a folksong with a heavy electric beat. Facing each other and swinging their arms, the two men started what looked like a vigorous, symmetrical exercise routine. İt became more and more energetic, turning into something like an elegant and elaborate fencing duel.

Their two women stood up, and the men danced round them, their movements suddenly more fluid. By comparison. the women looked half-hearted. İt wasn't their show and no-one was paying them much attention. The women were ostensibly the reason for the peacockish display but the men's energy made them slightly invisible. İt was hard to tell if each man was limbering up to fight the other or just trying to impress him.

The speed and elegance of their movements was both aggressive and beautiful, but the real drama was in their faces. They held each others' eyes with a fixed theatrical expression that was somewhere between a smile and a grimace. Only their lips moved, slowly mouthing silent words of joy, or terror, or love, or pain.