What you leave behind - a short story about Nomads
It was less than 2 years ago, the pandemic had put all the bars into a deep sleep and there was no real atmosphere anywhere in Tbilisi. My life consisted of Cafe Stamba, Canudos, Linville and the rigorous MyChef in Marjanishvilli, where I had the best cappuccino in Tbilisi. Only on Friday evenings was I drawn to the Rude Boys Bar or the now closed Bauhaus for a Margaritha. Come, drink and go was the motto. I had previously lived in India and Nepal for 7 years, where there are no real bars and drinking is not really fun. As I had an extra room in my house, I regularly hosted cochsurfers. My visitor from France told me one Saturday night that he had never tried a Georgian ChaCha, I had to end the session with our cozy bottle of wine immediately. We made our way to the ChaCha Shithole around the corner, where dubious characters usually linger, but I found it fun to fuck the French taste buds with an ultra brutal garlic ChaCha. On the way there, I spotted a street advertisement for a new dive bar right on the corner opposite the platik-infested, stupid cult location Fabrika: Infused ChaChas. The sign belonged to Nomads Bar (at that time still Nomads Corner).
Down, down the rabbit hole,...
We gave the bar a chance and took the plunge. It wasn’t a moment before the grinning patron greeted us with his braces smile, knowing full well we weren’t here yet. The vibe was great, the music crazy and the guests a colorful mix of outsiders. My French couchsurfer was enthusiastic about the ChaCha and spontaneously shook a leg, which was my moment when I wanted to go outside for a smoke. The patron, who was still unknown to me, stopped me and said “You can smoke here” and solemnly handed me an ashtray. My smoker’s lungs were in 7th heaven, despite the air conditioning I was allowed to smoke a cigarette peacefully thanks to the excellent ventilation.
I enjoyed the moment but refrained from falling in love. Covid and the stupid smoking regulations in Europe and Asia killed many of my bars – I was a lost soul – apart from the Bamboo Bar in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Bangkok, no bar came close to me for many years. I snatched my temporary roommate off the dance floor and insisted on killing the Georgian wine at home to the sounds of Enrico Caruso. “Ella mi fu Rapita…parmi veder le lagrime” simply goes perfectly with a Quarry Saperavi by the way. I just had to leave, I live here as a nomad and don’t want to be tied down to things in life again.
It took just under 6 weeks and I couldn’t resist. It was Friday and I was stupid enough to try another margarita. My hunch was wrong, I trusted a bartender in the tourist area and was insulted with a horrible margarita, so I desperately needed some ChaCha and smoking would be nice too, the cab to Nomads Bar was already called. The same smirking face greeted me and insulted me for not being here before – that’s how I like it. No fakes, no sucking up – better an honest asshole than another NPC (non-player character, video game lingo). We struck up a conversation and my ashtray filled up… The owner of the bar introduced himself as Emad, and it was weeks before I finally memorized the name. Ahmad, Eman, Emo… I realized that I wasn’t the only one, suffering with memorizing a simple Iranian four-letter name. Actually, I was still in my beloved lockdown by choice, crying for the wonderful isolation of the pandemic, yet I was re-socialized under duress – resistance was futile.
The bar was creative and attracted exciting characters, I didn’t know the term at this time, but Nomads was the mother of all dive bars! Average normal people piss me off and bore me, so I prefer to play Tetris in my brain and ignore 99.998% of the human species, but at least I like cats! My liver and I began to reside regularly at Nomads, unfortunately my beloved Iranian friend Emad found my second-hand smoke too much to handle, leading to regular banter and affectionate arguments. Ever since I saw Nino Datunashvily’s first performance, I knew I had a home again. The crazy lovable Georgian rock brat reflected the rebellious and uniquely crazy soul of the bar – her gigs, later together with Amila Ruvantha, were some of the most brilliant nights in the bar. The bar was surrounded by an exciting network of extraordinary gentlemen and gentlewomen that was impossible to escape. Emad has succeeded in crafting a space for many freedom-loving lost souls and those who don’t know it yet. For many of us it was THE BAR, there was no discussion about where else to go. Sometimes we deliberately strayed into another location, it didn’t take 15 minutes before everyone felt uncomfortable and we had to call a cab to Nomads immediately.,
A home for many of us
The Nomads Bar was my home for almost 2 years and I shared it with many people I grew fond of. Under the dictatorship of Emad, a world was created in which you can be whoever you want and occasionally play the worst music. Without exaggeration, it became a temple of benevolence, love, madness, compassion with lots of happy drunken free spirits and full ashtrays. Sometimes, outsiders (often Russians, what else) tried to cause problems, the collective in the bar purged any negative energy and regulated itself. There was never a bad night at Nomads, even when it was completely empty. I have been to many bars like this in my life, but Emad has managed to create something incredible. In a world contaminated by corruption, greed and idiocy, a small oasis of hope was created. My dear friend Felix always says, “Everything that comes into being is worth going to the ground” (sounds more cool in German), and unfortunately, he is right. Since last night, the bar has been sold and Emad’s reign has come to an end. I received countless messages and expressions of condolences from people who heard the news via social media, and I myself was naturally in shock. I sent the sad news to all my international friends who had ever visited me in Tbilisi and were equally fond of Nomads. Even if the bar itself will continue to exist, it will not be the same without its soul – our beloved Emad.
A few of us are desperately looking for a new space, time will tell. Dear Emad, even though I am writing this article and Thanksgiving from my perspective, I know that I am acting on behalf of all Nomad citizens. We would like to take this opportunity to thank you for everything you have done for us. Thank you for letting us bug you even on bad days. Thank you for your dedication, passion and all the good times. You and your Nomads Bar will always be a part of our lives – Rock and Roll, Namaste & fluff you very much beloved friend!!!
