By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
In the insanity of society, seclusion is a safe haven. The inconveniences of everyday life such as basic human interactions are enough to make you want to stay at home. Immerse yourself in isolation and shy away as soon as you sense someone clawing their way into your existence. You build a beautiful, invisible cage around yourself - happy and free in solitude. Suddenly, you realize your cage grows smaller by the day, as the bars begin to shrink in front of your eyes and thorns grow around it. You now want to get out, but you can't - trapped in loneliness forever. “Goodbyes are always the hardest”, he mutters in an incoherent voice almost as though he was too embarrassed to admit it. I looked down at the bag of perfectly ripe apples he had given me and nodded in agreement. This nod is an utter lie because, in reality, I couldn’t even begin to comprehend what those five words truly meant for a man like Erekle. A lone man in an entire remote village in northern Georgia. A man who’s lived here in isolation for the past 21 years, surrounded by nothing but the dark, chiseled Caucasus mountains. I watch Erekle as he continues to meticulously prune the endless vineyard, preparing it for the winter ahead. His massive, calloused hands move effortlessly from branch to branch, familiar with the task he has likely performed dozens of times before. “There’s a wolf somewhere in these woods, you know,” he says without looking up, dead set in his work. “He runs along the edge of the forest right there. I don’t go into the forest and he doesn’t come near my home. We’ve made an unspoken pact.” Like with all animals, the innate thirst for survival is what led people to leave this village. In the hopes of finding better lives for themselves, they moved on. “One by one people left or passed away,” he tells me as he continues to briskly prune away. “I could move if I wanted to. To a bigger village or even a town where I could find a job. But I don’t want to. This is my land. This is where I was born and this is the place that I’ll die.” He meant it. The rugged land that Erekle stood on in his worn-out boots meant everything to him. It told the story of his deep-rooted ancestors, history and a culture so rich - one he could never leave behind. I imagine this quiet place was once full of life and of people who’d live off the land. The mere memory of an inhabited village now stands here, lingering like a ghost through its dirt roads, abandoned houses, stores, and even school. The only thing you can hear now is the howling wind and the echo of children playing here in a distant past. I feel the chilling autumn wind on my skin, as I realize that I might be the last person that Erekle sees for the next several months. I will go back to my community of friends, family and the entitlement of modern-day technology. My cozy cocoon where everything is a mere click away including groceries, entertainment, and even social interactions. Whirlwinds of thoughts engorge me as I fathom the invisible cage that this man lives in. A ball of guilt tightens underneath my ribs as I further grasp the notion of privilege with every thought. Despite my newfound guilt, I know that I must leave and begin my journey back home. I look up to bid my final, dreaded goodbye to the man I’ll likely never see again when I notice a broad smile on his face. The deep-set wrinkles underneath his brown eyes tell the tale of a happy life. A wild life filled with solitude, contentment and most of all, one he has chosen for himself. I follow his steady gaze as he silently points to the source of his glee. In the distance, at the edge of the forest, I see it. A lone, grey wolf - staring back at him.