ABSTRACT
I t was with some anticipation and an eerie nostalgia that in September 2003 I sat down in the grand lobby of the Marriott Tbilisi Hotel. Anticipation because a Georgian friend was coming with, he claimed, new information on the imminent parliamentary elections. Eeriness because
my last visit to this very spot had been a hurried breakfast in 1991 — just prior to Georgia’s last revolution. Little had I known then that mine would be one of the last meals in this splendid restaurant for many years. After its destruction in the civil war following independence, the hotel had stood as a burnt-out shell for eight years. But now, finally, magnificent Art Nouveau lamps hung again from the ceiling, waitresses skimmed by carrying full trays of drinks, a huge spray of lilies greeted guests like welcoming arms at Reception. Here the history of luxury in Georgia had returned, or rather doubled back to where it had been — except of course that its sponsors had changed, not Russia any more but its Cold War rival, America.
