Features
Einstein’s Smile: A Tale of Two Pictures
By DAVID TOPPER In my previous story in the Jewish Post & News, “Einstein & Johanna: A True Tale of Tragic Comedy,’’ I began by saying that I first heard the name “Einstein” when I was around the age of 10.
So let me begin this story when Albert himself was about that same age, and he had his class photo taken on the steps of his school. This picture is one of the earliest pictures we have of him – and it’s one of my favourites. It shows his all-boys class of 52 students lined-up in five rows. Einstein is in the front row, the third from the right, and clearly one of the smallest in the group.
The unique and utterly fascinating thing about this picture is this simple fact: all the other boys are looking grimly at the camera, while little Albert is the only one with a smile on his face. Look closely: all 51 others, with hands at their sides, appear stern, anxious, intimidated, sulky, or scared; Einstein, with hands behind his back, has a cute, little, slightly impish smirk on his face – unquestionably, a look that any parent would love. Just compare the detailed picture of him with the boys to his immediate sides : the contrast, indeed, is at once stunning and amusing.
Right here, in this astounding image (a mere class photo) is the visual manifestation of the laid-back contrarian that he would become throughout his life. In this one picture, knowing what I know about him, his whole life almost flashes forward before me. So, here, I wish to share a piece of this story with you.
As reported by those who knew him, Einstein was modest and unpretentious, without an iota of conceit or arrogance, treating all people in the same manner, independently of class or rank. He spoke the same way to a president as to a janitor. He also had a hearty laugh, with a child-like twinkle in his eye. OK, all this may be a bit of an exaggeration (sounding more like Santa Claus), but variations of these traits are persistently repeated among those who knew him and reminisce about his personality. He really was a down-to-earth guy. For example, he refused to travel first-class. Even when sent first-class tickets, he sat in third-class, driving the fastidious ticket-takers crazy.
I have a second picture to talk about. But before that, I want to see what else there is about his life that I can read into his class picture. What do we know about his early life that might help us? Best to begin at birth.
Albert Einstein (1879-1955) was born in a small town (Ulm) on the Danube River in south-western Germany to unobservant Jewish parents. Although the town today boasts of his birth, he was still an infant when the family moved to Munich, where he spent his formative years. His mother, Pauline, had a deep commitment to music, and she tried to instill that affection in her young son by forcing violin lessons on him. A love of music eventually sunk into his psyche around his transition to the teenage years, and Albert carried that commitment throughout his life. He exhibited his love of music by packing his violin on trips. Serious music, to him, was confined to the works of the “classical” period of what is called classical music, especially that of Mozart and Haydn, although he would happily dip back into the Baroque and J. S. Bach.
His father, Hermann, was a businessman who could have made a lot of money at the time because he was in the electrical business (motors and dynamos, for example), which was to the late-19th century what computer high-tech paraphernalia was to the late-20th century. But, just as the “dot.com” boom and bust resulted in some winners and many losers, most who made the effort in the electrical business did not achieve success. Hermann’s business went bust.
Albert’s sister, Marie (called Maja), was born when he was age two, and she was his only sibling. Maja, in a short memoir written in the early-1920s, is a crucial source of information about her brother’s childhood; this is important because there are many myths circulating through the media and beyond about Einstein’s youth. Today, many special interest groups wish to embrace Einstein as the poster boy for their various causes. Nonetheless, Einstein was not a slow learner, a vegetarian, left-handed, nor any of a range of idiosyncrasies that you will find in special-group websites on the Internet testifying that Einstein was one-of-them. Although his parents tutored him for his first year of school, he also was not “home schooled,” for he continued through the German school system until the age of 15, when he dropped out before graduating in his final year. Yes, Einstein was a high-school dropout, but I must confess that I have not yet come across a website of “High-School Dropouts” claiming Einstein as one-of-them.
Contrary to another myth, Maja reports that her brother was not a slow learner but was “a precocious young man” who had a “remarkable power of concentration,” such that he could “lose himself…completely in a problem.” Later, for Einstein the scientist, this youthful behavior was clearly repeated – like a leitmotif, throughout his scientific life.
It’s true that Albert detested the rigidity of the German way of teaching, but he still got good grades. Yet, he did not hide his feelings about the oppressive atmosphere of the classroom, so that one teacher went so far as to tell Albert’s parents that their son set a poor example for the other students by his overt hostility. This may cast some light on the special smile on his face in our photo, for it surely reveals the contrarian attitude on social mores that he displayed throughout his life. One obvious example: think of his lack of decorum in the grooming of his hair, which began in the 1930s.
An example of nonconformity of a different kind took place in his pre-teen years when he became extremely religious and admonished his anti-religious parents for not following the rules of Orthodox Judaism. This personal obsession lasted for a few years, to the consternation of Hermann and Pauline, only to disappear right before he would have been Bar Mitzvah. (It never happened.) In his very brief autobiography, written in 1947, he says that the reason for this quick change was his discovery of science and math, and for him the accompanying realization that the Bible was untrue. The result was an intellectual and emotional transformation. He viewed the religious outlook as subjective and solipsistic, whereas the scientific viewpoint was a route to objectivity and a liberation from what he called “the merely personal” – or subjectivity. He put it this way: “Beyond the self there is the vast world, which exists independently of human beings, and that stands before us like a great, eternal riddle, at least partially accessible to our inspection and thinking.” This statement acted as a maxim for his scientific endeavours to the end of his life.
But this is not the full story of his transformation: he added a socio-political element that is rather startling and remarkable for someone around age 12 or 13. He said he came to realize that “youth is intentionally being deceived by the state through lies” and that therefore a “mistrust of every kind of authority grew out of this experience.” These are profound and troubling views for someone at an age where most boys are more obsessed with sports and girls. Does this give us a hint at a deeper meaning of the smile in Photo 1? Maybe not, he was but 9 or 10 when the picture was taken. Nevertheless, it does give us a sense of continuity from here to the unconventional citizen we know later in life.
As we continue to pursue the question of the roots of his maverick ways, we find two episodes of interest at age 15 or 16. Both were triggered by the collapse of his father’s business, and the need for the family to move from Munich to the town of Pavia in northern Italy just south of Milan, where his father’s brother had a more successful business. Since Albert was in his last year of high school, he was placed in a boarding house in Munich while his parents and sister went on to Italy without him. Alone and feeling abandoned, he sank into a deep depression and had to leave school. But he had the wherewithal to obtain a letter from his math teacher saying that he completed that part of the curriculum. This was the first episode.
The other episode, however, might not have seemed very level-headed at the time. After crossing the German border, he applied to the government to renounce his German citizenship, making him a stateless person thereafter. Some scholars believe that in order to trigger such a desperate act, something almost elemental about German society had deeply troubled Einstein. We know he had major misgivings about the militaristic features of German society as expressed in the educational system. Or was it a reaction to his father’s loss of his livelihood, and the need to leave the country? His sister, Maja, however, had a simple answer: he was avoiding being drafted into the military.
Accordingly, as a high school dropout, Albert arrived at his parents’ residence in Italy, much to their surprise and surely their chagrin. We have no documentation about the inevitable confrontation between him and his parents, but we can be sure that there was a dispute around the question of what he was going to do with the rest of his life. We, of course, know the answer, in the long run. But even in the short run, there was some hope.
Let’s return to that letter in Albert’s pocket when he left Munich, and back up a few years to the non-Bar Mitzvah around age 12 or 13. The unperformed religious transformative rite was replaced by a different revelation – as mentioned, he developed a zeal for science and in particular the logical rigor of mathematical reasoning. Specifically, he was given a primer on geometry, and he devoured it – even trying to prove some theorems before he read the proofs in the book. The logical way that mathematical reasoning produced eternal proofs had a deep psychological impact on this young man, so much so that even when writing his autobiography around the age of 68, he referred to this early textbook as the “holy geometry book.” How revealing this metaphor is: especially when we realize that he was reading Euclid, instead of Torah, the original “holy” book. He went on to teach himself calculus and other higher mathematics, so that by the time he dropped out of school, he was well-grounded in the mathematics required for graduation and beyond. Hence, the letter in his pocket, mentioned above.
Albert’s father had plans for his son to be an engineer. This is no surprise, since he was in the electrical business, which he (correctly) believed was the wave of the future. In particular, he wanted his son to enroll in the Swiss Polytechnic Institute in Zürich, one of the best schools in Europe. As luck (fate?) would have it, a completed high school diploma was not necessarily required for enrollment in the Poly; instead, there were a series of rigorous exams administered by the Institute. It seems that the letter from the math teacher was a factor in placing him in the special category.
So, in the fall of 1895 he took the entrance exams – but flunked them. There was, however, a silver lining to this incident. He did so well on the science and math parts (no shock here) that the Institute’s director recommended that he spend a year doing some remedial studying. After all, he was applying to the Institute a year or two early for his age, since the regular age of admission was about 18 years old.
Einstein spent the next year at the Kanton Schule in the town of Aarau, just west of Zürich. The curriculum was based on the ideas of the great Swiss educator, J. H. Pestalozzi, who (among other things) emphasized using visual materials as well as written texts as educational tools, and especially stressed direct student-teacher interaction. For Einstein, it was a delightful and memorable year: he enjoyed learning in a formal setting for the first time in his life.
Indeed, it was sometime during that year of motivated learning that he came up with what would be his first great experiment in his head, what we call a “thought experiment.” This idea involved moving in space at the speed of light; essentially it was based on this question: What would the world look like if we rode on a beam of light? Perhaps the Pestalozzi emphasis on visualizing played a role here? Listen to the following remark about the school in Aarau that Einstein wrote 60 years later: “It made an unforgettable impression on me, thanks to its liberal spirit and the simple earnestness of the teachers who based themselves on no external authority.”
Ah ha, “no external authority”: such progressive and open-minded thinking was guaranteed to have an impact on Einstein who, as quoted, believed that “youth is intentionally being deceived by the state through lies” and that therefore a “mistrust of every kind of authority grew out of this experience.” This Swiss Kanton Schule was obviously nothing like the German schooling he had previously experienced. No wonder he graduated in the fall of 1896 with good grades.
The year at Aarau proved fruitful. Einstein’s admittance to the Swiss Polytechnic was based on his grades at Aarau, and although his father wanted him to study to become an engineer, he enrolled in physics and mathematics – and we know where it went from there.
One more thing about the Aarau year. There is a class photo of that small graduating class of 10 students. It’s not reproduced here, for no one is smiling. They all look relaxed, but serious too as they ponder their future. Einstein may be a bit more relaxed than the others, and he may be staring off into space much further than his fellow students – but I hesitate in reading anything more into it. Nonetheless, I do know this: once, when reminiscing about that key year in his life, he said that, while the other students at Aarau filled their spare-time by swigging copious quantities of beer, he drank from a different trough – diligently reading The Critique of Pure Reason, by Immanuel Kant. And that surely was nothing to smile about. (Incidentally, Einstein was a teetotaller all his life.)
My key argument here is essentially about the role of pictures and what we can (or cannot) read into them. And this brings me to Photo 2 from 1931, over four decades later. Here Einstein, now the celebrity, is at a reception in the German Chancellery in Berlin. From the left they are: Max Planck (the famous physicist), Ramsay MacDonald (British Prime Minister), Einstein, Hermann Schmitz (on Einstein’s immediate left), and Hermann Dietrich (German Finance Minister).
I have no idea why these five men were seated together or what they were talking about. There are several extant pictures of this table-talk scene, which were taken by the pioneering photojournalist, Erich Salomon. I have chosen this one because it captures an animated Einstein speaking to the British Prime Minister. Notice the gesture with his cupped right-hand. It is a captivating image clearly displaying Einstein’s alert and smiling face, all in stark contrast to the serious, stern, and solemn visages of the other four. “Come on, guys – lighten up!” – I want to say with Einstein. Or, put differently: what’s there not to like about this Einstein fellow trying to cheer-up a much too formal table? Is it not clear why I am juxtaposing this 1931 picture with the smiling boy in school? And so, it seems that a story that began with a smile appears to end with a smile.
But not so fast.
The second picture is from 1931, and two years later Hitler will control the country. Serious looking Hermann Schmitz was from I.G. Farben, the chemical company that would become notorious for its role in developing Zyklon B used in the gas chambers in the Extermination Camps, and for this Herr Schmitz spent time in prison after World War II for Nazi war crimes.
Planck’s son, Erwin – who was also present at this formal affair but is not in this picture – was later executed by the Nazis as part of the plot to assassinate Hitler on July 20, 1944.
And then there’s the photographer Erich Salomon (b.1886). He died in 1944 in Auschwitz, which was supplied with chemicals from I.G. Farben.
The result is that Photo 2 is deeply laden with painful meaning, and I can never again see this picture with that initial innocence I had the first time I smiled along with Einstein as he made a point to the British Prime Minister. Such is the nature of images and the interaction and interdependence of our eyes and minds. To use an analogy: pictures are as much read they are as seen. And so, knowing what we know about Photo 2, there is nothing
Features
“A Brilliant Life” – biography of one Holocaust survivor who, like so many other survivors, married someone just to try to establish some sense of normalcy
Book Review by JULIE KIRSH, “former Sun Media News Research Director
In 1946 my parents met, fell in love and married. In 1947 they had their first child. This was not unusual. However, they were 20 years apart in age.
After World War II, Holocaust survivors who had lost everything – family, home and community, sought to rebuild their lives by marrying, having children and restoring their shattered lives.
They wanted to experience normality which meant having a spouse, children and recreating a family that had been lost in the flames of the Holocaust.
The survivors were few in number so age difference, religious background or compatibility were not as crucially scrutinized as before the war.
The author of “My Brilliant Life’s” grandmother, Genya, whose family was from Poland, married young and was told by her religious father-in-law that she had to wear a sheitel or wig. Genya balked, but since all other Jewish observances were met, the marriage was sanctioned
Genya and her husband Dolfie had five children. The youngest child was Mira, mother of the author, Rachelle Unreich, who has written poignantly of her family’s history in “A Brilliant Life.”
In 2017, in Melbourne, Australia, 88-year-old Mira Unreich was diagnosed with cancer. Her journalist daughter, Rachelle, knew that time was limited and so she interviewed her mother extensively, to learn about her life before, during and after the Holocaust.
As her mother recounts, the transports started in Slovakia in March 1942, when Mira was one month shy of fifteen.
Dolfie, Mira’s father, was clever and prescient. He obtained false Christian papers for Mira and sent her to rent a room and work for a fabric store owner. He also told his family repeatedly that if they were in danger, each person should look after themself. Many times he said, you must “just save yourselves”.
By the end of August 1944, the noose around the family had tightened. Slovakia was not a safe haven for Jews and the end was imminent for the remaining Jewish families in Dolfie’s town. One day, SS officers burst into their home and shot Dolfie in front of his wife Genya, son Yanchi, and daughter Mira. This tragedy shadowed the lives of the family up to the present.
In Melbourne, Mira met and married Pavel, who was thirteen years her senior. Again, the match was not as much a love match, but for Mira it was a chance to have security and comfort after all that she had gone through in the Holocaust.
When Mira married in 1946, she was only 19 years old. Like my own 22-year-old mother – who married a man 20 years older than herself, Mira was fun-loving and strove to make up for lost time.
Less than two years after liberation, Mira gave birth to a son and then two daughters. The family moved to Paris, where Mira enjoyed everything the City of Lights had to offer. Pavel, on the other hand, was serious, less social, and more of an observer than a participant in life.
In 1959, Australia seemed remote and safe, a vast land of opportunity with a citizen army that was founded as an entity to defend all her people regardless of race or religion. At the time, Australia hosted the largest community of Holocaust survivors in the world outside of Israel. By 1960, Holocaust survivors and their families made up 60% of Melbourne’s Jewish community.
Eventually, Pavel left Mira and the family and died in Belgium, never remarrying. Mira met Manny, eleven years her senior, whose family had also experienced tragedy in the Holocaust. They were drawn to each other. In 1966, Rachelle, the author of A Brilliant Life, was born.
The title of the book reflects the kind of person Mira was. She was affectionate, considerate, and a capable mother who accommodated her children’s needs.
Mira, like most Holocaust survivors, had a number tattooed on her arm. As children of survivors, we see the tattoo as a blight and painful reminder. However the author had another insight. For her, the tattoo designated someone who could work and more importantly – had been chosen to live.
As a child of survivors, I have asked myself the question that the author asks Mira in Chapter 37: Why had she survived when so many others had not? The author believes that her mother had a purity, a spiritual honesty, that drew others to her, and that ultimately helped her to survive.
Mira was honoured by her children in death as she was in life. The words on her tombstone were stark and plain spoken: “She witnessed her father murdered by the Nazis/Her mother, brother and sister were killed in the Holocaust/She survived four concentration camps/yet she still loved her life with an unwavering positive attitude.”
My father survived Auschwitz and Buchenwald. Like Mira, he was a positive, happy man, who loved his family and adopted country. Mira, like my father, had seen the worst of humanity, yet they both chose to concentrate on the best of it.
Why is this Holocaust memoir different from others? Trauma runs deep and very often defines the post Holocaust lives of many survivors. For Mira, her trauma was superseded by her innate resilience, her strength of character and her capacity to overcome tragedy. Her hopeful nature gave sustenance and meaning to her family.
This is a story that resonated for me personally, underscored by the universal themes of love and hope common to all.
“A Brilliant Life”
by Rachelle Unreich.
Published by Black & White Publishing, 2023
Features
Tiblisi, Georgia – a new hotbed for dental tourism, especially for Israelis
Introduction: A few weeks ago we received an interesting email from someone who asked whether we would consider publishing a story about dental tourism in Georgia (not the Georgia in the U.S. – the Georgia that is a former Soviet republic). In that email we were told that Georgia has become an especially popular destination for Israelis looking for quality dental care at affordable prices. So we responded: Go ahead and send us something.
The author of what you’re about to read, whose name is Constantin Dicusar, admits that English is not his first language, so he asks that you forgive any awkward phrasing. But I’m sure that, if you read at least part of this story you’ll be intrigued by what he has to say about a part of the world that I doubt many of our readers know much about.
By CONSTANTIN DICUSAR Tbilisi, Georgia, is the latest destination for Jews from all over the world seeking dental tourism. Dr. Iza Dzidzikashvili, co-founder of a dental clinic in Tiblisi, says: “Jews come from all over the world and choose Georgia because of the low level of anti-Semitism, the low prices and the high quality, as well as the good relations between Israel and Georgia.”
Georgia is a country in the South Caucasus that is relatively little known in the West and in Canada. In 1991, it declared its independence from the USSR, becoming one of the first Soviet union republics to break away from the former imperial power, which was to collapse a year later.
Although it has only very recently chosen to pursue the path of European integration, Georgian society had already distinguished itself long before independence as a nation with deep-rooted Christian-European cultural and civilisational values. Georgian hospitality bears many similarities to that of Moldova, and Georgian wines, renowned throughout the world, have made Georgia the cradle of global winemaking.
Georgian wines are believed to have an 8,000-year-old tradition based on the unique method of fermentation in clay vessels called qvevri, which are included in UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage list. Among other interesting facts, Georgia was one of the first nations in the world to adopt Christianity as its state religion, in the 4th century.
More recently, Georgia has also managed to build a strong reputation in another sector: international dental tourism. Tens of thousands of tourists from all over the world visit Georgia every year – particularly the capital, Tbilisi – to combine sightseeing with dental treatment.
According to Georgia Today, the majority of foreign tourist-patients come from neighbouring countries or the wider region (Russia, Azerbaijan, Armenia, as well as from the Middle East – Israel, Qatar, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia). In recent years, Georgia has also become a magnet for many people from Europe and the US. Jews – both Israeli citizens and Jews from the Diaspora and around the world – represent a distinct group of patients who have chosen Georgia for dental services.
Read more about this in the exclusive interview conducted with Dr Iza Dzidzikashvili, a dentist, practising surgeon and co-founder of Bucho Denti in Tbilisi, Georgia:
Constantin Dicusar (for jewishpostandnews.ca): When was Bucho Denti founded, and who is behind the project? Tell us more about how your story began.
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: First of all, welcome, and thank you very much for your interest in our clinic. Bucho Denti was founded in 2000 by sisters Iza and Tea Dzidzikashvili and Vasif Aliyev. Today, all three are among the leading dental specialists in Tbilisi. Since we were already three experienced specialists, we decided to create an environment where patients could feel comfortable, safe, and confident, while receiving the highest standard of dental care. This philosophy became the foundation of Bucho Denti and continues to guide our development today.
Constantin Dicusar: What do you know about international dental tourism in the Caucasus region, and specifically in Georgia and Tbilisi?Dr. Iza Dzidzikashvili, dentist, surgeon practicing and co-founder of Bucho Denti: International dental tourism has been growing significantly in the Caucasus region, and particularly in Georgia. One of the main reasons is Georgia’s combination of hospitality, safety, high-quality dental care, and affordability. Dental standards in Georgia are comparable to European standards, while treatment costs are more accessible than in many other countries. This combination of quality, safety, affordability, and comfort has created growing interest among international patients.
Constantin Dicusar (The Jewish Post & News reporter): How has international dental tourism changed your operational, staffing, sales, and marketing strategie
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: The growth of international dental tourism significantly changed our vision and the way we operate. One of our main goals became to reduce the overall treatment time as much as possible — without compromising quality. We developed our infrastructure and workflows to allow patients to complete their treatment efficiently while maintaining a high standard of care. We also introduced complete treatment packages that can include hotel accommodation, airport transfers, and other services international patients may need. Our goal is to make patients feel safe, comfortable, and supported throughout their entire stay. We also incorporated tourism into the experience, giving patients the opportunity to explore Georgia and travel during their treatment period.
Constantin Dicusar: Did you envision engaging in international dental tourism right from the time the clinic was established, or did that come about later?
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: To be honest, we had always considered the idea of working with international patients. However, this direction developed much more actively as demand for international dental treatment increased. We adapted and developed our services according to the needs of international patients.
Constantin Dicusar: Tell us more about your staff. In which languages do you communicate with your international patients, and does the multilingual staff include dental assistants as well as the doctors themselves?
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: Our doctors have decades of professional experience, with some of our specialists having more than 30 years of experience. Our team communicates with international patients in English. To make the experience even more comfortable, we also provide communication support in Hebrew and Arabic, including professional interpreters. For us, it is very important that patients understand every stage of their treatment clearly and feel comfortable throughout the process.
Constantin Dicusar: Let’s also talk about international patients: which countries do most of them come from, and which dental services do they seek out most often? We know from reports originating in Israel and Georgia that Tbilisi has become an increasingly popular dental destination, frequently chosen by Jewish patients as well. Have you observed this trend at your clinic? If so, which countries do most of these Jewish patients come from?
Dr. Dzidzikashvilii: Yes, we have definitely noticed this trend, and the number of Jewish patients has been increasing every year. We would like to point out that the majority of our Jewish patients are citizens of Israel; they come from Israel. One important factor is the relatively short travel time between Israel and Tbilisi — approximately 2 hours and 30 minutes. Dental treatment in Georgia is also more affordable compared with Israel. Georgia is already well known and popular among Israeli travelers, so patients are generally familiar with the country and feel more confident about choosing it for treatment. After Israel, the United Kingdom is another important market for us, followed by different European countries. We have also treated Jewish patients from Canada, which shows that interest in Georgia is not limited to one or another particular country. The most common treatments requested by international patients are full-mouth rehabilitation, dental implants, and zirconia crowns.
Constantin Dicusar: Do you think that the good relations between Israel and Georgia, along with the low level of antisemitism in Georgia, encourage Jewish patients—particularly Russian-speaking Jews from across the former Soviet Union—to choose Georgia for such services?
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: Of course, the long-standing friendship and positive relationship between Georgia and Israel is very important. This relationship helps Israeli patients feel safe and comfortable when choosing Georgia for treatment. When a patient travels to another country for medical care, price and quality are not the only factors that matter. Trust, safety, communication, and the overall environment are equally important. We believe that the strong relationship between Georgia and Israel contributes significantly to this sense of trust.
Constantin Dicusar: What strategies do you plan to develop over the coming years to grow international dental tourism? Are you considering becoming more attractive destination for Jewish people from Canada and USA who are looking for dental services that are more affordable than those in their home countries?
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: In the future, our goal is to create a large-scale international dental center where everything is available in one place. We envision a facility combining a dental clinic, hotel, and restaurant, creating a comfortable environment specifically designed for international patients. Our vision is for patients to receive high-quality dental treatment, relax, enjoy their stay, and, if they wish, explore Georgia — all as part of one complete experience. At the same time, we are actively working to make Bucho Denti better known internationally and to reach more patients who could benefit from our services. Our main goal is to offer international patients accessible treatment while maintaining European-level standards of dental care.
Constantin Dicusar: Finally, we would like to turn our attention once more to Georgia and Tbilisi as tourist destinations. You are likely aware that in Europe—particularly in the western part—the worrying rise of antisemitism has limited the options available to Jewish travelers seeking dental tourism. Budapest remains the dental capital of Europe and is well-known within the Jewish community; more recently, Romania, Moldova, and perhaps Riga (Latvia) have also emerged as options, each offering distinct advantages and tourism amenities. From this perspective, what can Georgia and its capital, Tbilisi, offer? What makes Georgia unique as a destination compared to the others?
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: Compared with the countries you mentioned, one of Georgia’s main advantages is the combination of more affordable dental treatment with European-level quality. Another important advantage is the availability of complete treatment packages, including dental care, accommodation, transfers, and other services. Georgia is also an attractive tourism destination. Patients can combine their dental treatment with the opportunity to explore beautiful places, experience Georgian culture, and discover the country. Safety is another important factor. Georgia is a relatively small country, which contributes to a well-controlled environment, and the level of crime is relatively low. Ultimately, we believe that the combination of quality, affordability, safety, hospitality, and tourism opportunities gives Georgia a unique position. Our goal is that when an international patient comes to Georgia, they receive not only high-quality dental treatment, but a complete, safe, comfortable, and well-organized patient experience from beginning to end.
Features
Buck In Situ: A Dog Story
By DAVID TOPPER I suppose the first thing I should say is that, although this is a true story, it’s not about a real dog. (That may be obvious if you look at the picture accompanying this tale.) Yes, the dog – a wooden statue – is Buck.
I do want to explain what “in situ” means. For those who know the term, it betrays the fact that I was a teacher of art history before I retired. It’s a Latin term that refers to an art object being in its original or natural place. For example, the famous Elgin Marbles (statues of Greek gods, goddesses and other mythological figures), which are prized objects in the British Museum in London, were taken by Lord Elgin from the Acropolis high over Athens in Greece, in the early 19th century. If the museum ever returns the statues (as Greeks have been demanding them to do for years), and if the statues were then placed back on the Acropolis – then they would be “in situ.”
All this has been my way of introducing you to a story about a little statue that has been sitting in my home ever since my late wife, Sylvia, and I returned from a trip to Jamaica many years ago.
Here’s Buck’s story. One afternoon during our vacation on the island, we went to an Art Fair. I was particularly interested in wooden carvings. There was a long line of tables, end to end, with different carvers showing off their wares. As we walked along the tables, among the different carvers, I was dumbfounded because they were all carving the same statues! Different artists: same statues. The statues were of some local deities; none of whom I had any interest in taking back home – no matter what magic it could perform.
Sylvia and I were baffled as we strolled along the long row, eventually coming to the end. Then, lo and behold: the last carver was carving different statues – not necessarily of gods. Coming across his table filled with a wide variety of subjects was a breath of fresh air.
Of course, the first thing I asked him was why everyone else was carving the same things. His answer was simply that they thought that was what tourists wanted, and they were afraid to try anything else. I asked him why he was not afraid. He said he was afraid; nonetheless, he would be bored doing the same thing over and over – even if he made more money.
By now you can see where this story is going. It was among his wares, on the last table, that I saw the statue of the dog – which I immediately fell for. Sylvia, a dog lover, fell for it, too, and hence we bought it. I don’t recall the price, or if we haggled over it. But what I do remember – and why I am telling this story – is this. While talking with him and watching him at work, I noticed the way he was squinting. I asked him about this, and he said his eyes were not what they used to be, that he needed glasses but he couldn’t afford them.
At the time, I was in an early stage of permanently wearing glasses. Having gone through various stages of over-the-counter reading glasses during the previous decade or more, I was now wearing my first prescription glasses. I gave them to the carver to try on, and he said they were too strong. “Good,” I said. I told him I had several pair of different power reading glasses at home, which I had used before I got these. I’d be pleased to mail him those glasses, which perhaps could get him through the next decade or more. He gave me his address, and that’s when I found that his name – or, maybe, it was his nickname – was Buck.
“Would you mind if I name the dog Buck?” I asked – because I liked that name for the dog. He had no problem with that, and hence Buck it was, and Buck it always will be.
Not long after we got home, I mailed a box of glasses to Buck. Although I had my return address on the box (in case it got lost) I never heard from him. I didn’t expect to; yet occasionally I talk to my Buck and tell him that I hope the Buck whom he is named after, is still using a pair of the glasses I sent him. It would be comforting to know. My Buck agrees, I trust.
From the photo you can see that Buck sits at the foot of a staircase. Those stairs start in the front entrance of our home and go to the second floor. Buck not only stands on-guard, watching all who enter the house, but he also plays the following role. If I want to remind myself of something without having a paper and pencil handy, I just turn Buck around – say, on my way upstairs for the night. In the morning, coming down the stairs, I see that Buck is reminding me to do something. Although, I must confess, sometimes I can’t recall exactly what it was!
Finally, I live in Winnipeg, Canada. I know that’s far from the island of Jamaica, but here Buck has become a part of our life. All the family knows that if Buck is turned around – it means something! I therefore believe that it’s not stretching the terminology t-o-o much by calling this memoir: “Buck In Situ: A Dog Story.” To me, Buck is right where he belongs.
David R. Topper writes in Winnipeg, Canada. His work has appeared in Mono, Poetic Sun, Discretionary Love, Poetry Pacific,Academy of theHeart & Mind, Altered Reality Mag. and elsewhere.
His poem Seascape with Gulls: My Father’s Last Painting won first prize in the annual poetry contest of CommuterLit Mag – May 12, 2025.
