The Ascend

Six steps up and I stop to catch my breath. It would have been better to start earlier. It’s already too hot for this ascend.

I take my headphones off- they’re not silencing my thoughts anyway. Placing them in the old backpack I’ve been carrying around since like forever, I take six steps more. I can do it. Having difficulties keeping my breakfast in and the voices in my head out, I wonder whether that yogurt was the most inspired choice. One step follows the other. Why am I here alone? There are 9 kilometres of steep footpath ahead to find an answer.

Feeling every new movement I make in the gut, I understand I must sit and take a rest. Seeking for some shade under a bush, I take a sip of water. Looking around, I see no living being, just a small village somewhere down. There’s only silence surrounding me. It must be about an hour or so ago I have started my ascend from that little house. The phone shows no reception. I doubt there’ll be one any time soon. Not that I wait for anyone to look for me, do I? The GPS says 8,9 kilometres to go. I must continue. Standing up, I take a few more steps. Drops of sweat caress my forehead. It’s almost as they whisper, ‘Let go, it’ll be fine’. I want to believe them. However, my stomach gets ahead. Relief.

Perhaps I should return. There is no point in this hike. My body isn’t feeling ideal. I stop to look down at the village and take another sip of water. I can return anytime. The path back is clear- I’m still not that far. Let’s continue for a while longer. And I walk.

There’s a light headiness for which I’m not sure whom to blame- the increasing height, my stomach going rogue, the heat, or perhaps my not being used to this complete silence. The thing about such uncertain states is that one can either ignore or investigate them. As I have spent enough time doing the first, I want to choose the latter. Going on about life on a sort of an autopilot while drifting towards alternative realities isn’t something new to me, just a thing long forgotten. And so, I walk.

The mountain is beautiful. All these shades of green are joy to my eyes. I remember the small settlement at the very top of the mountain. Right, I have already been there, though it was a completely different path that I took. Back then, I started from the top, looking for the route down to the village. I failed to find it and experienced things which might deserve a story of their own. Perhaps there will be a time for that too. Back to the settlement. It was rather a few abandoned houses- 3 or 4 and an inhabited one- painted in bright orange, with what I identified as a radio joyously disturbing the silence. I remember wondering how they built it there. The nearest road accessible by car was more than an hour walk away. They couldn’t have carried all the materials so far. Perhaps they brought them by helicopter… I wonder who lives there. Would be interesting to meet them. I could knock at the door, but then, they went through all this trouble only to live alone on a mountain’s peek, not to be disturbed by strangers. 

Right, now that we know where I wanted to return- back to my ascend. The route was difficult; I had to stop every few minutes to catch my breath while my heart was pumping like crazy. At a point, while taking yet another rest and being very close to convincing myself return, I suddenly saw a man approaching. He smiled, greeted me and hurriedly continued his way up. I wasn’t so surprised to meet anyone else doing the same hike, it was rather his pace which stunned me. He couldn’t have been younger than 60. Then I knew that I couldn’t return. I also felt more secure. We always do when not alone, don’t we? And so, I walked.

My ascend continued in a different way from then on. I was pushing myself harder. This spirit of competitivity… Is it a trait specific for chess players? I guess it is something all sportspeople must have. It is unclear though what was I trying to prove and to whom? Maybe that man was doing such ascends all his life, or maybe I was just in such bad shape that anyone could overpass me. Why did it matter? Maybe it’s because we are so used to comparing ourselves to people we meet on our path. We weigh what and how we did and what was that they did to be in the same place and time as we are. Perhaps that’s a normal way of assessing and pushing ourselves towards progress. Though, is this really the sole purpose of those encounters?

Anyhow, from then on, the drops of sweat stopped talking to me despite the rate at which they accumulated increased exponentially. By the time I reached the summit, I could easily drown any thoughts just by squeezing my top. Getting up there made me so happy! I did it! Making a few more steps, I saw that man resting on a rock while peeling an orange. I decided to continue for a while longer and I did not stop until I reached the painted house. Taking shelter from the burning sun in a small cave nearby, I sat on a log, took some gulps of water and admired the view. The greens, greys and browns of the mountain intertwined so perfectly with the blues of the sky and ocean! I wish I could live there. Tears started building up in my eyes and I felt both happiness and sadness. I was happy to be there and sad not to be.

Thirties' Eulogy

This moment has found me in great mood, wearing my newly acquired pink jumper while sipping from a matcha by an airport window.

The day started slightly differently though, with a numb headache accompanied by chamomile tea and porridge for breakfast. In my defence, I’m still not used to the side effects of going out. It was only some years ago when I could easily even play a morning game after a night out. But things really do change at 30. Don’t get me wrong, there are not only bad things happening when entering the 4th decade.

You’re more confident, even after making a draw vs a 10 yo or after playing only against one older opponent out of the 9 rounds.

You get more respect, like two nights ago when I knocked on the neighbouring hotel room door asking them to keep the noise down and a 15 yo kid looked at me in complete terror and said ‘Sure, sorry Ma’am.’  I was so surprised by his reaction that when I returned to my room I checked how I looked in the mirror. I didn’t see anything terrifying, but who knows, maybe my assessing skills got rusty with age. By the way, there were no noises at all for the rest of the night.

What other good things are there at 30? Ah, one earns more! In this tournament for example I became richer by almost 100 euros for my 9^th place - not bad for 10 days of work.

One also gets healthier habits. I only skipped breakfast once here. Not that I have any serious stomach issues, yet, but when you only have the breakfast covered and the probability you play well and win the coveted hundred bill is not too high- you use that thinking skills you’re supposed to possess and go eat breakfast.

Relationships are better in your thirties too. You know a lot of interesting people to whom you show affection by avoiding them by all means because the memory of the last morning filled with side effects is still fresh. Good thing is that recollection becomes less reliable at this age, so you don’t have to wait too long for that memory to vanish like it never even existed. I’m sure that in a few weeks, ok, ok, let’s be honest- days, I’ll completely forget how this morning started.

Let me think, what other good things are there?

Ode to Singularity

Singularity. A term which was as familiar as distant to me as it could only be.

When I first had the idea of writing a text with such title, a month or so ago, I had a completely different thing imagined. I was enjoying some ‘me’ time while reflecting on the pointless nature of life. The setting must have had it’s say too. A freezing walk through a charming old town of a city I’ve never been to before, an unexpected stop at an underground pub, and some whisky menu with prices I was more than willing to pay. How long it’s been since the last time I took a flight of stairs down to enter this obscure place with filthy tabletops and basses whispering to one’s soul- an eternity! Proof of the ephemeral nature of time served my being almost the oldest breathing object there. After ordering some Scottish liquor to a much too young and much too knowledgeable bartender, I trusted her enough to surrender my phone under the reasonable pretense of charging.

Back to my table, I proceeded with enjoying the Highlander’s company. How good it felt to disconnect! Just the thought of no living soul being able to reach me made my blood slowly start warming, though not enough to convince me take my glovelettes off. I began wondering, how come I didn’t feel any guilt at all for feeling so happy, there. Somewhere around that time I heard a call. It was coming from within- a word’s call. “I’m ‘singularity’, please love and cherish.”

Singularity you say. Must be a fancy way of expressing the state of being alone. “It must be what I am and feel right now”, I thought. Please I can, love I could and cherish if must. Who’d imagine the depth of my being wrong and right at the same time?

In the coming weeks, while trying to make my way through what singularity actually meant, I have read and watched different materials. At times it appeared that I understood exactly what that was. Other times, I felt lost, like I got it, but I still wouldn’t exactly be able to say how come. It became a small obsession I was determined to get to the bottom of. Between bothering friends, AI, peeks of mountains and bottles of wine in search of a satisfactory answer, I concluded that the closest I was to truth was at the beginning.

That flight of stairs opened Pandora’s box, teleporting me into those times when happiness was as simple as that, when meaning was as tangible as a glass of cheap liquor. As dividing by 0 is undefined in mathematics because there are no such numbers which multiplied by zero would produce a non-zero dividend, we follow this law too, dividing our time, our lives and ourselves by something different than zero. Singularity can mean a whole lots of things. What I have just described in mathematics is one example. Applied to physics, it is the moment when gravity and density become so strong that physical laws break down, as for example in the centre of black holes. Regarding AI, singularity is a point where artificial intelligence surpasses human intelligence leading to uncontrollable and irreversible technological growth.

Now back to the underground bar, filthy table and gravitational liquors. Applied to me, singularity isn’t something intelligent enough to need surpassing. To start the loop I only needed to take a flight of stairs down. But that’s not all. I am lying. 

Blissful Ignorance

Today’s story will be about your friend, your cousin, that classmate, your country or perhaps you. 

The idea of this post came to me after listening to a certain song on repeat on my way home from yet another tournament. One particular verse hit me hard. It was nothing beautiful or metaphoric- just the brute force of truth. Once really hearing it, my mind couldn’t stop. But let’s leave it for the due time.

It all starts with the feeling of something not being right when you look closely to someone. A distant, resigned, sad gaze, like they’re floating in a different world. The blues, anaemia, some slight depression, being fed up with work and routine- finding possible reasons couldn’t be easier.

Then the unusual behaviour comes into equation. One flinch here, one tremor there, one silent reply too many. You start wondering. However, few of us are Sherlocks in real life- Watsons at best and that’s actually not too bad. Some time passes and other signs slip- a missed coffee date here, a worrisome voice during a call there, an accidental glimpse over a well-hidden bruise. Even the not Watsons come to suspect the foul. But you don’t want to intrude. If something is not said out loudly, if it’s not material then it’s not yet true. However, you begin paying attention to the details more carefully. Perhaps you even start feeling conflicted- ‘Should I try to help?’, ‘Could I live with myself if something were to happen and I didn’t even try to do anything?’.

Abuse and abusers take different forms these days. And here comes the verse: ‘I’ll fuck you till you love me’.

With every new time I listened to it, I thought of new aspects of life it can apply to. Be it personal or work relationships, politics or basically anything else it seems.

Games of power only have place between evenly matched, consenting opponents. If one of the components is missing- that’s abuse.

Returning to that friend of yours. Why do they accept the situation you may wonder? The answer will mostly be about some form of dependence- be it emotional or material. Abusers are so good at making one believe that they’re of such utmost importance that one can’t do without them. That cousin convinces oneself that the situation they’ve come to find themselves in is not so bad after all. They have a classmate who got it even worse.

‘I’ll fuck you till you love me.’

What if they do ask for help though? You remember the moment when you found yourself in a similar situation and you do what you hope a friend would do for you. You offer support. But what if you’re in some way dependent on the abuser too? Let’s say you might lose your job and that could hurt not only yourself but your family too. Would you then do the right thing just to stand for your values no matter of the consequences?

The most dangerous abusers are those in high positions of power. They thrive from inflicting fear.

You may tell yourself that after all, that classmate of yours has closer friends who could help. Why should it be you risking your livelihood? Perhaps you would do it was it your sister, daughter or mother asking for help. But as it’s not, you will pity them, think or even say how unfair the situation they find themselves in is. You would perhaps lose some sleep over it and then you’ll eventually convince yourself that you’re better off caring for your own interests.

But do you know what the problem is? An abuser will not stop. Now they may seem to not touch you, they’re far away. However, the day will come when they’ll move on to their next victim. Or their sons and daughters will meet yours and tell them ’I’ll fuck you till you love me’. You might not be around to help, and the only hope will be for some stranger to feel their principles to be too strong to ignore them. Or not.

Sad is this world as I look at it now.

I realise I might not have the power to really help, but I will continue calling out on the abusers in the hope that someone who can make a difference might be reminded of their values.

Violence is never the answer. Neither is blissful ignorance.

Today I might have not spoken about your friend, your cousin, that classmate, your country or you, but I might as well have of your child’s or their children in a year, ten or twenty.

 

The Grand Batumi Experience

In the land of ancient wine-making tradition, unique cuisine and stunning landscapes, let me take you along on an alternative trip, one spiced up with dirty tricks, food poisonings and memorable commutations between toilets, doctors and hospitals. 

European Team Chess Championships. Events where you represent your country are always special. They are characterized by a heightened sense of responsibility, but also a distinctive team atmosphere. The individual moves on the second place and one tries to inspire and support the whole. It is such that when you see your colleague in trouble, you in a sense stop being objective and try to compensate by maximizing your chances on your own board. This strategy worked well for us here, allowing us to finish 8^th when being seeded 17^th in the starting ranking list. But let’s not jump ahead and take it step by step.

I have noticed that the trend in traveling has changed lately. More people are trying to choose unusual destinations and authentic experiences rather than well-known all-inclusive resorts. Chess organizers seem to follow this tendency closely, bringing us to Batumi, Georgia, only for the 2^nd time this year and the 4^th time in the last 6, with another 2 to follow in 2026. I was so thrilled when learning it! The 2018 Olympiad in Batumi is still vivid in my memory! While playing there , I managed to lose 5 games in a row when failing to cope with what a professional chess player should excel at- having a stomach made of steel. If you can’t eat the same meat- freshly unfrozen on the 1^st day, with spices on the 2^nd one and with some sauce on the 3^rd- you are lacking essential skills. How lucky to be able to work on them! 

Earlier this year I missed on it, as it was not compulsory to stay at the official hotel during the Women’s World Cup and I rented an apartment. It was such a disappointment to have fresh salads, fantastic meats and heavenly tasting bakes… Who knew I’d get a 2^nd chance just a few months later! The 5 star Grand Bellagio Hotel, which was the official venue, looked very promising. It was boasting a 6,4 mark on Booking and promising rooms where there was almost no mold, very few broken appliances, a nearly clean carpet and a soon to be functional gym and spa. Add up the intel acquired from some players who stayed there at the above-mentioned Women’s World Cup, which indicated a high chance of our stomachs being seriously tested at the hotel’s restaurant, how could one not look forward to it?

Romanian Women's Team

I came prepared. With a bag full of pills and some extra hundred euros in the wallet, the plan was to indulge on the restaurant’s food only for the occasional lunch. It worked well. Sparing an extra 20 minutes on urgent toilet trips immediately after the midday food intake once in a few days could only make me stronger. However, there were players who wanted to enjoy the full experience. Eating 2 or sometimes even 3 times a day at the hotel’s restaurant sent several players to the tournament’s doctor with severe fever, chills, vomiting and other such symptoms. Sometimes they would get some medicine, other times- the chance to visit a Georgian hospital to get some IVs. I envy them. When else would I get such a chance? Ah, wait, I forgot- next year!

So, if you wondered why you wouldn’t see your favourite players paired for a few days in a row- here’s the most likely answer- they were getting the all-inclusive experience.

Batumi promenade

Now switching to the chess part. The 8^th place in the final rankings is a very good result for our 17th seeded team. We had chances for more, but I guess there always are. Personally, I didn’t have a stellar performance. But how else would my character get tested if not by missing out on some winning positions? By getting a dose of disrespect from the opponents. Why not indeed. As a friend told me- it only shows that they wanted a good result by any means. Offering a draw to your opponent when knowing that the only satisfying result for their team is a win on your board is not forbidden by rules- maybe they would lose a few minutes on their clock by consulting their captain… Offering a draw 2 minutes after making your move, realising you blundered and found yourself in a lost position while your opponent is in a deep think, why not disturb them? This one is actually forbidden by rules, but you have a good personal relationship-they would definitely not mind it. It can only strengthen your connection.

Concluding it- this European Championship even exceeded my expectations- body and spirit tested and strengthened like never before! Can’t wait for the next time!

 

(Photo credits: etcc2025.com)

Gratitude

Today has felt to be the perfect time for taking a moment to be grateful.

Living a life governed by thinking, analysing and taking or trying to take logical and objective decisions, these rare moments when I can rely solely on my feelings are particularly precious to me. There are some tears building up in my eyes, but they are ones of gratitude and serenity this time.

It appears that something out there in the universe rewards those courageous enough to be vulnerable. I am amazed by how little one needs to feel meaning and happiness. It becomes even more interesting to ponder over how this ‘little’ is actually so much that there can be no price tag to attach to it.

I find there is nothing more valuable in this world than the people one meets and the moments they live together. There is a certain magic to it. Today I am convinced once again that as random as things might seem at times, there is a secret order to that randomness, one which comes together in the most unexpected ways.

Today I realise that my deciding to surround myself solely with people whom that something inside of me had told me to- it was the best thing I could do for myself. No logic was involved. Some told me to be wrong, and I didn’t care. I am grateful to have done it.

The universe conspires to give you what you want by means we rarely understand. It is conditioned by knowing what you wish for and by daring to say it to the world.

It has been ages since I cried of joy. There is more than one person I can thank for it, but today I feel bold enough to say ‘thank you’ to myself.

The Wonderful Everyday Life of a (Woman!) Chess Player

(Photo by Anna Shtourman)

Here I am, back home after what feels like an eternity I spent in Batumi at the Women’s World Cup. An eternity would have actually been nice, but fortunately or not- we’re talking about 10 days.

These 10 days were like a life miniature- hard work, tension, emotions, thrill, loss of appetite, existential questions, revelations, more pressing opening dilemmas, long walks, disappointments, hope… I am not even sure what wasn’t there. In the moment I lost, and I realised it was all over, I felt empty and, in some way, relieved. I could finally go home to check if my cat was alive. The good news is that she is, and it even feels like she’s been thriving in my absence. That’s the vibe lately, that the world is thriving- with or without me.

At some point, while having a walk along the never-ending promenade in Batumi, I was looking at the skyscrapers they built- all residential buildings- all with huge open balconies. I couldn’t help wondering- what about the safety issues? Aren’t there people who’d want to jump to such nice views every other day? There were definitely moments when I’d consider becoming one with the sunset. Too much drama? Too much existentialism? Nothing is too much at such a tournament. Good that it only happens every two years. I was asking myself how come that it was only the 3^rd time I played it at the respected age of 31. Well, I think God, or some higher power out there simply looked out for me. Now is the time I can deal with it. If God judged it so, who am I to question it, right? Probably Georgian people see it the same way- if He saw us having coffee on an open terrace on the 27^th floor, why should there be any doubts? Only that those companies building real estate like crazy are anything but Georgian. Here we have smoothly come to one of my existential questions- am I sure that the life I live is the one I wanted, or was it the seed planted by some foreign architect?

Seeping from a bottle of Belgian white beer with coriander on my safe terrace on the ground floor, I can enjoy the moment without worrying that in God I must trust to ensure my long living.

Unlike the flight to Batumi, the trip back home was surprisingly fast and enjoyable- a ten minutes drive to the airport, another 5 hours on planes, and here I am. Even the 13^th row seat did not bother me, neither the people constantly skipping que in front of me at the security check. The 8 euros cappuccino at the gate felt nothing but fair and the turbulences I have come to harmoniously cohabitate with- a joy. I was wise to prepare myself with some intense khinkali therapy last night. Nothing can compare to taking a bite and then sipping on it as loud as you can- letting everyone know how enjoyable the process is. If you have no clue what I’m talking about, only prayers to God might help.

Going back to my flight and the 13^th row seat, I thought that it was only that much time I could spend there. In a sort of zugzwang, I took the only available move- a trip to the places of need. On my courageous trip I found myself having a revelation when locking eyes with another player. Greeting each other at that moment of truth, I saw my pain in her eyes, and I couldn’t help feeling sorry- for her and for myself. Pathetic? Enlightening? 

107 players we were at the start. Then 64 and 32… Thirty-two minds calculating the ways to their dreams. There are just sixteen left now and I’m not amongst them. I could still be there; it was so close. The things you tell yourself when on that imaginary or not 27^th floor Georgian terrace… I have progressed compared to the last time, I played at the same level with an ex or future World Champion, I have even outplayed her. No, locked in our eyes on that plane I felt such a pain which I know, and she knows and maybe another 100 players calculating their ways home from Batumi know. The personal sacrifices one makes to be there, all those hours and years when you deny yourself what a normal life is- I saw them all. 

Playing vs Tan Zhongyi (photo by Anna Shtourman)

Luckily, the flights were short. I have more than one coriander beer at home and there are living souls happy to have me here, even if for combing their fur.

If you think the story is slowly coming to its logical pessimistic end, you couldn’t be further from truth. My day has actually taken a hilarious turn after landing in Bucharest. I continued my series of inspired moves by opening a message request. Marvellously educational experience! Someone has written to me that he finds me cute and quite smart. So pleasing! He continued with offering to have a meeting where I would hit certain parts of his body for his joy. This process had a particular name he recommended me to enlighten myself with. He felt it important to mention he’d need two weeks to recover shall I agree. 38 years old, not fat, engineer by profession were the details his fake account provided. We could even go for a coffee after he said. I had to satisfy my curiosity and did the due research for my enlightening- no judging. There could be a way for me to understand him wanting to be caused pain in the most intimate parts of his being by someone he considers cute and smart. After certain amount of beer, I could even see it as a compliment. Damn, I can even think of similarities between us!

The guy read me. How would I hit some engineer in the… Well, you know. But all in this life is about timing. Yesterday I might have found it compelling, but today I have entered my own two weeks of recovery time. Coriander, beer, cat, ground floor, no prayers.