Tbilisi's 'Italian' courtyards: yesterday and today. A photo story
‘Italian’ courtyards of Tbilisi
One of the main attractions of Tbilisi are its “Italian courtyards”.
No one remembers exactly who started calling them that – in fact, they have nothing to do with Italy.
The term “Italian courtyard” originated during the communist era because these courtyards became very noisy and the noise was associated with Italy, cultural expert Tsira Elisashvili explains. This was somewhat influenced by Italian cinema of the neo-realist period.
Houses with such courtyards were often built by wealthy merchants and industrialists of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Each of them tried to outdo the others in beauty and luxury, so the courtyards of old Tbilisi still amaze tourists and locals with their uniqueness.
The Soviet government dispersed the “bourgeois”, and divided their houses into apartments. People of different nationalities began to settle there, and soon a separate, special culture was born – noisy, friendly “Italian” courtyards became the hallmark of the capital of Georgia.
Now Tbilisi is actively building up new apartment buildings, but residents of the old quarters are in no hurry to move, despite the fact that their houses are gradually dilapidated and destroyed.
The old-timers of the Italian courtyards of the new building, where the neighbors know almost nothing about each other, seem too cold and soulless.
Several stories of the inhabitants of the “Italian courtyards” allow us to understand their unique atmosphere and way of life.
Levan, 80 years old
I studied in Moscow and lived in a large apartment building, I didn’t know my neighbors. You get into the elevator – no one even says hello. People may not know each other for years. I rode the elevator, went into the apartment, closed it, and no one was interested in what worried me or the neighbors, what problems they had. In the old yards, at least you see people, say hello, learn something. We are humans, we cannot live without communication.
Imagine that I needed salt. Who will I ask for it in a high-rise building? I will knock on the door of the neighbors, and they will say: “Who are you? Some crazy guy came”. And here you can easily ask for salt – and a fork and bread.
Due to the coronavirus pandemic, I have been sitting at home for a week now, I don’t go anywhere except the store. I forbade my relatives to visit me just in case. I go out into the yard, sometimes I see my neighbors, we chat a little.
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Previously, we used to gather with neighbors, even without a reason. One of the guys would say: “Let’s get together today.” We would bring out the table, the wives prepared food, snacks, pickles, someone brought drinks. Sometimes someone went to the village and brought fruit and handed out a couple of kilograms to the neighbours.
Everyone was talking about something – some about the university, others about the army. Sometimes they repeated themselves, and one of the friends, waving a notebook, would say: “You are telling this for the second time, I am writing it down!”
Now everyone is keeping to themselves, we greet the remaining old neighbors, perhaps. Birthdays are also celebrated by everyone at home.
Before, no one scolded children for the noise in the yard, they played, laughed, but now if there is a little noise – immediately someone appears in the window and tells them to be quiet. Yes, and children mostly spend time on their phones.
There are only a couple of neighbors left who have either lived here all their lives or for a very long time. The rest either sold the apartment and left, or died.
I have a friend who used to live here. A doctor named Otari. Sometimes he would invite me over when his wife was not home to have a drink. His wife would often come and curse at us. Then he got sick and practically stopped talking.
He would come with me to sit on this bench, argue about football. And then he died. I feel empty. Communication between neighbors has become much less. I had a stroke and now I can barely walk. I go down to the bus stop, sit there, take a newspaper and exchange news with taxi drivers.
Among the young, there is no such relationship as we had before. For example, those who live in neighboring yards do not know their neighbors, but we used to be very friendly. Everyone knew everything about each other.
There was an entrance in our building, now they don’t use it, they closed it, because passers-by often use it as a toilet. Once they even broke down the door. There were beautiful paintings of the 19th century on the walls.
One fine day, the local executive committee just painted everything with white paint. My father, an architect, was furious. But nothing could be changed. So these paintings are buried under a layer of paint.
There was a fountain in the center of our yard, but it was inconvenient for cars to park and it was razed to the ground.
Italian courts will eventually lose their significance. It seems to me that those who are richer will buy apartments. So in a house where several families used to live, two will live. I don’t know if this is good or bad. But the traditions of neighborhood are disappearing.
My late wife persuaded me to move because there was no heating, but I told her that I had been living here for 70 years and would not leave. I do my best with heating. I use an electric heater, or I burn old boards in a fireplace.
My son, after getting married, bought an apartment nearby. I myself advised him to settle in an old house, so that he had a yard, so that he could also contact his neighbors, so that they could help him, if anything.
We are constantly promised that the house will be restored, but I do not believe that they will do it, because it will be expensive.
I don’t like to complain about life. I only asked the officials to make railings along the sidewalks. The slope here is very steep, it is very difficult for me and other elderly people to climb home. But there has been no response. Before the elections they make promises, and then they forget about it until the next elections.
Marine, 61 years old
I have lived here for 38 years. In an ordinary apartment building, you live like in a matchbox, but here you can go out into the courtyard, the balconies are large. You live like in your own house, however, it collapses. I like it because I myself grew up in a village, in a big house.
