This mountain republic on the Black Sea is a microcosm of the Caucasus, reflecting the ethnic and linguistic diversity of the region. Though Ajara has been politically stable, it has been affected by the region's conflicts and economic challenges. We reacquaint ourselves with our distant relatives and close neighbors in the post-Soviet era. 

 It was generally not a problem to communicate with their new neighbors either. Thanks to the language they speak on the Turkish side, the Laz language, they were able to find common linguistic ground with the Megrels. Because the languages come from the same linguistic family, they learned Georgian quickly. 

 When I found my friend Ugur Osmanagaoglu in Hopa, he suggested that I spend the night there. "It is getting dark already," he said, "why don't you stay here tonight and chat with some people on this side. We can cross the border together tomorrow." I was sold on the idea. It is better to cross the border during the day and leaving the following day allowed me to do some practical research and be better prepared. 

 The lands that immediately adjoin the Sarp checkpoint belong to the Ajaran Republic, which has an autonomous status in the Republic of Georgia. Sarp is the main crossing point from Turkey into the Caucasus. It is somewhat hard to reach -- you have to drive along a dusty road that is not even stabilized. It looked as though we were driving through a construction site. Whoever drives this road curses its roughness and the boulders that are waiting to be demolished. But they also dream of the increase in trade once the road is finally built. However, many are not terribly optimistic that their dream will come true anytime soon. Many say that the situation was much better during the few years after the border was first opened. There is a consensus as to why trade has not taken off as expected: "We offended them," they admit. 

 After Ugur and I crossed the border, we looked for a chap named Zurap at the taxi stop. Zurap is from Sarp on the Turkish side, in other words he is a Laz. He speaks Turkish with the pronounced accent of Istanbul's Tophane neighborhood. Ugur asks him how business is going. He starts cursing like a sailor and laments the fact that traffic across the border has plummeted. There is a marked decrease in the number of Georgians who come to Turkey to buy things to sell back in Georgia. Likewise, many of the Turks who had set up businesses in Batumi have returned to Turkey. Some businessmen from Hopa, like Erdal Türker, have been able to survive only by getting involved in ventures that no one else wants to invest in. He and his ten workers are still holding out in one of the dilapidated warehouses of the Batumi Port Authority. They harvest snails from the Black Sea and export them to Europe and the Far East. Nobody in the area knew how to do this. In fact, the port is deserted except for Türker and his men. 

 The short highway that leads to Batumi is lined with eucalyptus trees on both sides, their shadows dappling the road. Cows walk idly about, there are a few people waiting for the bus on the side. Ajara is very green. Because they grow a lot of vegetables and fruits, their houses generally have large gardens.  

These single-family houses give way to public housing that looks like heaps of concrete, aluminum, steel, and iron. These buildings are really an eyesore. The uniform buildings, generally 15 to 20 stories high, were built by the Soviets with cheap materials and are now falling apart. There is a feeling of abandonment in the air, which applies also to the suburbs. Luckily, the center of town still provides some clues into the past of the city which must have been beautiful in its day. 

 If you have ever visited any of the Soviet republics, you can appreciate why Batumi was considered a vacation resort. The Kobuleti Resort, which is only twenty minutes from Batumi, has beaches that stretch for kilometers and is the site of many summer homes. But the beaches no longer have their old flair because there has been a drastic decrease in the number of people who vacation in Ajara. 

 Before we got to Batumi, we stopped at a village on the way. Gonio used to be the center of old Lazstan. There are archaeological excavations underway at Fort Absarus. There are flower gardens and orchards inside the fort which dates back to late Roman and Byzantine periods. Amiran Kahidze is the professor in charge of the dig. He seemed to be happy with his "workplace." We were able to communicate with him thanks to the broken Georgian that Ugur speaks. One of his students approached him and shows something that had just been found. Professor Kahidze told us that it was probably part of an Ottoman pipe. 

 This is not surprising, but it could just as easily belong to a Byzantine or a Persian. Ajara has fallen under the rule of many throughout history. During the second century, Ajara was part of the Egrisi Kingdom, which the Romans called Lazika. Its population was primarily made up of Megrels and Laz. As a result of the power struggle between the Byzantine and Persian empires, the cause of many wars, the region lost much of its population. When Georgians settled in the area during the fifth and seventh centuries following Arab and Persian invasions, the Megrels and Laz separated. The region in which Ajara was situated fell under Ottoman rule during the sixteenth century. In the seventeenth century, Ajara became part of the Trabizond Province and later of the Laz Province in the nineteenth century. In 1878, the Russians arrived, followed in 1918 to 1920 by the British. Last but not least were the Soviets, who stayed longer than anyone else. During Soviet rule, Ajara became the only region which was given autonomy not based on ethnic but on religious identification. 

 
The main entrance of the Orta (Center) mosque in Batumi is a wonderful example of the skill with which wood was carved here. Built over a century ago, the mosque is one of the finest examples of Islamic art in Ajara.  
 
 
 
 

   
Orta (Center) Mosque in Batumi has an loyal congregation (left). These elders of the Ajaran mountains may have Turkish family that they have never seen (right).  
 
 
 
 

 
The view from the minaret of Orta mosque presents more than just the panorama of Batumi. It is testimony not only to what the city was before, but also to what Sovietization has done to the area.  
 
 
 
 

 
The coast of Ajara used to be renowned for vacation spots during the Soviet era. They are still in vogue but there are far fewer tourists in the region. In order for its splendor to be restored, regional conflicts must be brought to an end.