The Whisper of Wool

The air in Zemo Alvani carries a certain weight, a whisper of stories untold, woven into the very fabric of its landscape. As I arrived at the Veli Guest House, the starting point of the Wool Tour, I felt the familiar pull of history, a siren call to explore the forgotten and the overlooked. The guest house, with its rustic charm, stood as a sentinel to the past, a gateway to the mysteries of Tushetian wool processing.

Our journey began with a walk to the local wool processing workshop, the only one of its kind in the region. The path was lined with the echoes of the past, the shadows of Soviet-era architecture whispering secrets to those who dared to listen. The workshop itself was a testament to resilience, a place where tradition and craftsmanship intertwined to create something timeless. Here, the wool of Tushetian sheep was transformed, each step in the process a dance between the hands of the artisans and the fibers of history.

Threads of Tradition

Inside the workshop, the air was thick with the scent of lanolin and the hum of activity. The artisans moved with a practiced grace, their hands weaving stories into the wool, each thread a testament to the enduring spirit of the Tushetian people. I watched, entranced, as the raw wool was carded, spun, and dyed, the colors vibrant against the backdrop of the workshop’s worn walls.

The opportunity to participate in the process was a gift, a chance to connect with the past in a tangible way. As I crafted my own piece, the wool soft beneath my fingers, I felt a kinship with the artisans, a shared understanding of the importance of preserving these traditions. The workshop was more than just a place of work; it was a sanctuary for the stories of a people, a place where the past and present coexisted in harmony.

A Feast for the Senses

As the day drew to a close, we returned to the Veli Guest House for a dinner that was as much a celebration of Tushetian culture as it was a meal. The table was laden with traditional dishes, each bite a symphony of flavors that spoke of the land and its people. The homemade wine and chacha flowed freely, loosening tongues and encouraging the exchange of stories and laughter.

In the fading light, as the shadows lengthened and the air grew cool, I reflected on the day’s journey. The Wool Tour had been more than just an exploration of wool processing; it had been a journey into the heart of a culture, a reminder of the beauty that lies in the forgotten corners of the world. As I sipped the last of my wine, I felt a sense of peace, a quiet understanding that the stories of Zemo Alvani would stay with me, woven into the fabric of my own journey.