A Diamond from the Rough

If it wasn’t for the 210km of coastline seceded to Russia in 1993, this small, yet rapidly growing, resort of Anaklia where the festival is held would likely remain a hidden gem.

The coastline lost was formerly known as the ‘Soviet Riviera’. This is affirmed by my guide Elene Rakviashvill, who is used to showing Prime Ministers and Sheiks around her country. She tells me it was the Switzerland of the Caucasus and its loss is a huge dent to the country. I have to take her word for it as access to this region is by invitation only from the Russian state.

Ill-content to dwell, the organisers of GEM festival have shown insurmountable resilience in striding forward and vitalising the best of the coastline it has left. This world class, four day music festival - in its second ever year is a grand statement of intent and the starting point for something hugely promising for Georgia as a whole.

Presently there are only three hotels, a small number of apartments, and the festival campsite in Anaklia for accommodation. The low impact infrastructure means the view across the Black Sea from my hotel balcony in Anaklia is stunning – and especially gorgeous during sunset when the sun kisses the horizon. I can see the 504-metre pedestrian bridge that leads to the festival site, a few palm trees, a swimming pool, a couple of unfinished hotels, and…that’s about it. It has a magnetic charm thanks to this feeling of space that you would struggle to find in the Mediterranean.

But this is all about to change. According to the founder of the festival, Sigua, who I have dinner with one night, “Investment is flooding the region.” A more substantial resort will be built with 5-star hotels because the festival's line-up, location and enchanting temporary architecture are attracting so much interest.

Demand for a place to stay from the 30,000 punters, who have mostly come on buses from Georgia and neighbouring countries, including Iran, Kazakhstan, Russia, Azerbaijan, have exceeded what accommodation is available to such an extent that cities annoyingly far from the festival site are full too. In addition, plans are afoot to extend GEM festival from a four day event to a month long party, and there’s a commercial port set for completion in 2020. Investors are now rubbing their hands and it’s amazing to think music is what’s spurring all this on.

My knee-jerk reaction is one of disappointment. I can’t help but think how precious these moments in 2016 are on this relatively unspoilt coastline – I have never arrived at a beach festival where I’ve felt like I’m off the beaten track in the same way I do here. As a case in point, just before pulling up to the car park outside the hotel we have booked for the festival, we were manoeuvring between cows, chickens, water buffalos, and geese – cows being the most stubborn. I even see a car that’s mangled after going head-on into one. This is farm country and a way of life un-impacted by tourism is beamingly obvious.

But I know my observations are selfish and derived from someone whose seen development done badly in places like Spain, Turkey, and Greece, where hotel builds have obscured the beauty that was once there. There should be no halting progress for my selfish want for a quaint resort. The economic prosperity the building will bring is great for a country where unemployment in its conservative estimation at 12 percent and youth unemployment significantly higher rate than that.

Equally beneficial for the country is the social cohesion it brings. The festival offers free tickets to people visiting the festival from occupied Abkhazia - a gesture of peace and co-operation showing a sense of nobility and bravery on the organiser’s part. Moreover, it’s an opportunity for young people from the rest of Russia to party with Georgians, build friendly allegiances, and talk openly about politics without being monitored on Facebook by the state.

To make positive news stories like this known globally, and thus transcending the ever too frequent representation of Georgia as a war-torn country in the media, the government has forked out to put a group of international journalists on the road with a tour guide for four days. Most come from neighbouring countries - apart from two travel journalists from England and myself.

Curiously for a music journalist the trip isn’t solely focused on the festival, but also encompasses an opportunity to get to know the country itself – a delightful change. Batumi, the capital of the sub-tropical Adjara province, in the south-west, close to the Turkish border is where it all starts. Landing in on the plane from Istanbul, we’re greeted by a mist-wrapped mountainous backdrop, warm, humid air, and an airport no bigger than Manchester’s bus terminal. It’s one of those places where you don’t have to dig to get to the good bit, there natural beauty pouring out of every pore.

After being collected from the airport and settled into our beach front hotel, I opt to break away from the journalists and explore the old town by bicycle. It’s not the best idea as there’s barely room for cars and pedestrians. An elderly gentleman scorns at me. I have no idea what is being shouted at me but I’m assuming it’s "Get off the pavement, asshole" - or something along those lines.

Nevertheless, if you can put up with a bit of verbal abuse, it’s an efficient way of getting a feel for the place quickly. I discover charming narrow cobbled streets and New Orleans-esque colourful houses with pretty iron balconies – one of which is selling handmade bread in an old stone Georgian bakery over out of its window for pennies. Although pretty, this city doesn’t come across as that innocent – it’s the summer and it’s a place for R&R. There’s casino after casino, and in about similar frequency are (non-seedy) Thai massage parlours. Meanwhile, alcohol is abundant and dangerously cheap for anyone travelling from places with a strong currency (that used to be us, Boris …). Wine – their national pride, can be bought for a couple of quid a litre; and isn’t terrible. But definitely fork out a bit more if you want something less rough. If grain is more your tipple then micro-brewed lager held in wooden barrels that can be cycled around is sold and this is where elderly gentleman gather around to socialise under the hot sun.

Hedonistic vices aside, the other buzzing aspect of Batumi is found on the outskirts of the city centre on the way to the privately owned Adjaruli Ethnographic Museum. The countries fragmented identity begins to be exposed the further from the Eastern European feel of the built up Batumi shore you go. Cows wander in the road freely like they do in India. Meanwhile, I pass tattered Soviet vehicles that reveal the not so distant socialist past.

The museum itself has been hand built and self-funded by a passionate gentleman named Kemada Turmanidze, who’s made it his life’s work to preserve knowledge of Adjarian traditions and crafts – an essential action considering today’s youth are swallowed up by the convenience and monotonous aesthetic of capitalist infrastructure. The gentleman proceeds to show me his sketch-book with images of Karl Marx and Stalin that he had to draw at school. I start to get the sense that Ajara is a smorgasbord of a place – impossible to pigeonhole and infinitely surprising.

The next day we leave the metropolis of Batumi and drive through valleys not too dissimilar to the wild beauty of those in Himachal Pradesh, India. The number of small holdings and houses begins to fall away and give way to pristine forest-clad hills that surround the Khareba vineyard where we drive for lunch.

Now, lunch is a big thing here. It’s not just a quick bite and then go - they literally stuff the hell out of you. Approximately 20 different dishes cover the table and we take a couple of hours to ensure we’ve appreciated every bit of it. There’s the mentality here that they share with Indian’s where the philosophy is guest is God. Whether you’re a paying customer or a friend of the family, they treat you the same. With respect and appreciation because, after all - you could be God.

It’s not until the next day, that the best dinner arrives when we go to Ucha Chikovani farm house, near to the village of Okase high in the Imereti province's hills. It’s all down to our Tamada (toastmaster), Ucha that it's a barrel of laughs. He introduces us to the Georgian hospitality experience that we’ve all heard about and all want to understand. He scurries around the place with a genuinely excited skip in his step. “I wish you were staying longer”, he says in Georgian with a smile as he proceeds to fill his glass with wine. He makes toasts to the things we value most; and though soppy to a cynical Brit – are actually really heartfelt and make dinner feel extra special. After raising the glass, he downs his entire cup – I try to join in but traditional Georgian wine does take some getting used to. This is the custom from here on in. Unlike in Britain where it’s one toast and then eat, here Ucha teaches us that it goes on for hours. Some journalists take the courage to do a speech too but it’s Ucha who closes things with an Ode to Love.

Taking the treacherous mountain roads back down the mountain we make a brief stopover at Martivili canyon, which is a rare bonus, and something most visitors to Georgia will struggle to see without a car. The gushing waterfalls, trees thick with lichen and jurassic rocks are a refreshing break from the burning sun.

From here it’s back on the bus and off to the festival itself. A 3-hour drive/farm safari trip and I reach my destination a night before the launch. I take the opportunity to wander around the site before it’s packed with visitors. The walk is over a 504 metre bridge from the hotel. The site contains inventive contemporary sculpture, beautifully designed hammock areas, shisha bars, multiple small stages, a cinema, tennis courts and football courts that are scheduled for games later in the week. There’s also water-park where bands and DJs are set to play in the day. The main stage, with a capacity of 14,000 people has a top notch rig for the likes of Paul Van Dyk, and Paul Kalkbrenner who’ll be using it.

The opening day of the festival arrives and the waterpark hosts the day’s main live act, Dub FX. The Aussie frontman who’s learned his sound from living in Manchester, Bristol, and Brighton and listening to dub, reggae, and dubstep, is in commanding form. The stage is just above a pool and ravers pack in as the band’s bigger in Eastern Europe and the Caucasus compared to England. The sun-scorched bodies dance to his songs that vary from insanely happy to politically discursive. The band, who are all jazz musicians who met in Australia are top of their game and have the perfect sound for a scorching afternoon in a pool. The show reaches a climax as the band put down their instruments, strip to their swimming gear and jump into the pool to meet and greet the fans. Surely this gig will live fondly in the bands memory forever.

The Kimona stage is the smallest on site but with the London based techno-heads, the Tales collective, running the decks it has an energy that far exceeded its size. It can be dull visually to watch one DJ but when the entire crew – all of whom are dressed in black, and look like a close-knit gang. They get behind whoever is in control, the energy transfers on to the crowd. The headliner of this showcase is Tapefeed, and his two hour set is a triumph with day-time ravers, who are loosely dancing like no one’s watching, are desperate for more. Part of the reason he’s successful is that he pumps out techno that isn’t all high BPM, it has some deeply imaginative, dreamy ambient tones running through it that make it great for a day time set.

With a break in the programme before the main stage gets going, the early part of the evening is best spent swimming in the sea. It’s clean, calm, and wonderfully warm, and if you swim close enough to the space stage you can listen to DJs at the same time. The benefit of the beach stretching for so many miles is that no part feels over crowded. You can swim without bumping into anyone and within thirty seconds be ordering a beer for a pound from one of the many on-site bars.

After sun-down the main stage security let people in and Georgia’s own DJ, Evol Waves gets things off the ground. There’s stadium style standing area, reminiscent of the old football grounds where people rush to fill it out but the real heart of the night is found right down the front in a big group of Iranian’s who wave their flag. Perhaps the 35 buses which have taken 25 hours from Tehran to get here have resulted in some good friendships. The commitment shown by these fans is hard to beat - they seem to have tapped into their reserve tank of endorphins.

German hard trance duo, Cosmic Gate, take over next. Having trotted the globe with their wheelie suitcases since 1998, they’re well-rehearsed in inducing euphoria and transcendence through repetitive beats. You know those foldy armed London crowds – well they don’t exist here. I manage to sneak between security guards and clamber onto the stage to get a good vantage point from which to view the crowd. The 14,000 capacity arena is packed to the brim and I look out as people from neighbouring and formerly warring countries get together to

Directly next to the main stage is a fire that’s being carefully tended by a hippy dressed as a pixie. It’s here where it’s quiet enough to have a conversation yet still close enough to the action to get a feel for the music. A young Russian guy sits next to me, lights up a cigarette. He tells me he got here hitchhiking and is on his way to Iran.

“I’m looking forward to revolution in Russia”, he proclaims with a sense of certainty. “I don’t think it will happen now but at some point, things will change”, he adds. I think how valuable it is to hear different discourses from young Russians. In contrast I have conversation earlier that day with a Russian woman via Google translate. I ask about her opinion on the leadership in the country, “I cannot continue this conversation, the government may be monitoring me” - is her answer. In this era of censorship, festivals as a platform for open discussion have never been so important.

But it’s 3am and most people have come to forget the world and experience Paul Van Dyk, who has recently recovered after breaking his spine in two places, and has an open wound at the back of his head following a fall from stage in Utrecht. To have him in this remote part of Georgia is a bit of a coup, as he’s arguably the world’s top trance producer. If they’re getting an artist with this much of a pull this early on then GEM festival’s future as a festival is set.

The lighting they parallel his show with is only surpassed by the best fireworks display I’ve ever seen. For me, the fireworks in the middle of Paul Van Dyk’s set are my last taste of GEM festival before the journalists are shipped back out of the country.

I’m leaving behind a weekend that’s set to include pillow fights, a fire engine water fight, a Holi festival style paint session, morning yoga, more live sets in a water park and swimming. It’s quite a hard pill to swallow but as soon as the bus gets moving and I see a cow in the road, it puts a smile on my face – I don’t need to be in a festival to have my mind entertained, everywhere you go in Georgia is something new and incredible. This is a love affair and I’m planning my trip back already. I hope to see the development that occurs on this stunning shore every step of the way.