Konrad and Alexandra (pdf) - Rolf Gross

fantastic shadow play of animals and riders onto the white hillsides.
As the sun disappeared the temperature dropped rapidly to below freezing. The
travelers huddled around the open fire in the smoke-filled room of the hospice and warmed
themselves with raki and tea. A miserable night. No privacy, they slept on the hard benches
along the black walls under filthy blankets that smelled of grease, smoke, and sheep.
Next morning the world was frozen. Braving the cold, Konrad and Leist watched the sun
rise from the balcony. The hospice hung precariously at the edge of a valley. Thick fog boiled
below. Wind-blown clouds drifted past the house. Occasionally they caught a glimpse of the
high snowfields to the east. And then a sudden gust ripped the clouds away and revealed a
steep mountainside down which the road wound in precipitous hairpins to the bridge at Mleti.
The wind stopped. A complete calm under a cold sun.
The opposite slope of the valley was rutted by snow-filled, deeply eroded ravines, bare
except for a shimmer of fresh, green, spring grass. At the bottom the ruins of an ancient
watchtower rose from the fog. A few houses, gardens with blooming fruit trees. A thin, striated
layer of clouds remained, hovering suspended halfway above the valley.
"If one were to take a photograph from here," Konrad observed, "one would immediately
recognize the picture as taken in the Caucasus. But why I couldn’t explain."
Leist stroked his beard while he considered Konrad’s question. "You are right, it is
because we are at the border between the arid northern slopes of the range and the green,
fertile valleys to the south. The high, northern slopes are bare and look, down there the
orchards are blooming, and a few hours further south they are raising two crops a year.
Another phenomenon typical of the Caucasus are the sun-warmed inversion layers above the
cold air in the valleys on which these unique cloud striations float."
"Since yesterday," said Konrad, "I have the uncertain feeling that I have crossed the
border of Europe."
"Nonsense. You will see that the Georgians and their culture are more European than
their most holy Christian protectors to the north. Christianity and literacy came to Georgia five
hundred years before anyone in Russia was able to recite the alphabet. The early Russian
churches in Vladimir were built by craftsmen from Georgia in the eleventh century whilst here
the earliest churches date from the fifth century, older than any in Germany. No, Rost, the
border of Europe is at the Araxes."
Konrad smiled, pleased that he had succeeded in arousing his friend’s emotions despite
the cold of the morning.
"Forgive my ignorance, Leist, it will soon be corrected!"
The carriage rumbled down the steep bends in the road. Sometimes Konrad felt that
only the thousands of sheep kept the carriage from tumbling over the edge into the foaming
Aragvi river. The Armenian lady, dizzy from looking into the precipice, asked to exchange
places with Leist.
With every turn of the road it became warmer, and after a few hours they were rolling
through thick deciduous woods covering the Caucasian foothills. They passed increasingly
luxuriant stands of dark stone oaks, light green beeches, and later tall chestnuts and wild
cherries. Touched by nostalgia Konrad remembered his hikes in his beloved southern Black
Forest.
They reached Tiflis after dark. With a congenial gesture and a laugh Leist said, "Rost,
may I invite you to share my apartment. I like your company, and there is plenty of room for the
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