Needless to say, most of our conversations are still about what's happened and continues to happen between Georgia and Russia. Most of my reading is about that, too. But I won't write anything about it here. Not now. There's enough firsthand info out there, and even more opinions and screaming from observers outside the region. And I still agree with what I said about it all in the previous post. And it still hurts like hell.
On a different note, here's a picture of the bartender at our Aegean Coast hotel:
His name is Metin (I guess), and he looks amazingly like my grandfather, my father's father, Sergei Andreyevich Khokhlov, who died in 1969, five years before I was born.
I spent two weeks staring and smiling at Metin. On the last day, I took this picture, and now I keep staring at it. I can see not just my grandfather in him, but my father as well. His smiling eyes. It's crazy, because I could never really understand what my father and his father had in common. And now I do.
There's more to it, but I don't want to write about it now.