by Jess Losaria
Shortlisted in the PureTravel Writing Competition 2024
The legend of Prometheus is a source of profound fascination for me. I am always intrigued by his rather precarious position in the divine order of things.
Where did he fit exactly in the social circle of the Greek pantheon?
On one hand, he was considered a trickster. A pariah who had the gall to steal fire from the clutches of all-mighty Zeus and share it with our ancestors. On the other hand, he was considered humanity’s creator and savior, an audacious titan who defied the Olympian top dog and gifted humans with the very foundation of knowledge and technology.
When I found out that there was a karst cave in Georgia (or Sakartvelo by local tongue) that was named after him, I knew I had to see it for myself. Mythology has it that when Zeus punished Prometheus for his “misdeeds”, he was chained with adamantine bonds to a massive boulder in the Caucasus mountains. Others claim he was bound to the bluffs of a Khvamli massif, which can be found in the Tsqaltubo municipality of the Imereti region, not that far off from the cave system that bears his name.
My Prometheus fanboyism aside, there is actually a more personal reason why I have wanted to go on this speleological adventure.
You see, a cave houses a multitude of things that could potentially send me spiraling towards a panic attack. Barophobia-inducing stalactites. A rabid bat tangled in my hair, its fangs turning me into Cujo. A spider the size of an infant’s fist crawling on my shoulder. A rat snake slithering into my pants. Spots of cold and dampy darkness that conceal unknown horrors.
I am the live adaptation version of Anxiety from Inside Out 2, only less orangey and less chaotic. I believed venturing into the Prometheus cave could somehow turn me into Joy’s cousin Courage (or Fear’s stepbrother Fearlessness, if Pixar goes that route).
I will overcome my fears. I will not allow feelings of dread to control me. Inshalla.
I am not a native Arabic speaker, but hearing Inshalla uttered all the time in Saudi Arabia, I admit to using it excessively at times. It means God willing. If the Almighty allows it, it shall and will happen.
And so I dragged a couple of friends who stayed with me in a hotel in Batumi and hired a private driver to take us on a 3-hour trip to Kumistavi. We were joined by throngs of Indians and Russians on our descent towards the natural monument. The cave system boasts 6 halls out of 22 that are open to tourists. You will be greeted by music and neon lights. The risk of falling flat on your bum is real, as the 1.8-kilometer path is nearly as slippery as a skating rink.
But what a sight and journey it had been to discover the secrets of Prometheus cave. You will immediately notice how absolutely decked it is with practically every rock formation you can imagine, from the expected stalagmites and stalactites, to flowstones, calcium salt pearls, draperies, and curtains. Due to time constraints, we were unable to avail of a boat ride to explore the underground river, which would have enriched the experience even further.
Surprisingly, I did not encounter any fauna at all, although I had a sneaky suspicion that the noise generated by tourists scared them into hiding.
On my flight back to Saudi Arabia, I no longer blabbered Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s at the slightest turbulence. I did not clutch on my armrest like I was holding on to dear life.
Did my Prometheus cave adventure finally cure me of my anxiety? It was hard to tell, but there is always hope.
Inshalla.
Photo by Joshua Sortino on Unsplash
