After Tearful Goodby, Soviets Head Home : Arts Festival: Folk dancers sing their republic’s new anthem in an emotional farewell performance before 10,000 spectators.

On a makeshift stage beneath a welcoming San Diego sky, 40 Georgian folk dancers huddled arm-in-arm during the waning minutes of their final Soviet Arts Festival performance Saturday afternoon at Seaport Village.

Like many finales, it was bitter-sweet. Many of the men and women, adorned in the native garb of their exotic homeland, fought tears, running rivers through their carefully prepared makeup.

Their three-week stint of must-see performances before packed, culturally hungry San Diego audiences had finally come to an end. The following morning, many of the dancers would board a jet that would whisk them home--more than 10,000 miles and a world away.

But there was another reason for the emotion. In their final fling, the dancers sang what several later said was their republic’s new anthem. It was an old rural folk song, one they performed before an audience that might not have understood its importance. It was just one more surprise in a festival of pleasant surprises.

“This is only the second time they have sung this song in San Diego,” said Tatiana Popova, creative dance director for the Soviet Arts Festival. “They sang it for a group of students who had asked them in an educational workshop about the fears and joys of being Russian.

“Right now, there is a lot on their mind concerning the recent upheaval back home against the Soviet government. This is a proud moment for all of these dancers. I hope people realize what is going on.”

Whether or not they grasped the complexities of Soviet politics, some 10,000 spectators squeezed onto the sloping lawns to see a kind of freebie performance seldom witnessed in a San Diego park.

Along Harbor Drive, traffic was backed up for more than a mile in both directions as people lunged for parking spaces. Some had to settle for spots a mile away.

On the cool, shaded Seaport Village grass, many families set up lawn chairs, hoping to relax and enjoy a colorful show that had quickly become the talk of the festival. They hung from tree limbs, propped themselves against light posts. Women sat on men’s shoulders.

Before the dancers appeared at 3 p.m., however, thousands more had pressed near the stage, blocking the view of some early-birds.

On a day of supposed international diplomacy, not everyone was diplomatic.

“Move, ya old coot,” one man yelled at an elderly passer-by who suddenly blocked his view.

A woman broke from the crowd. “If you can hear it, fine, but you certainly can’t see it,” huffed Edith Sherman with her husband, Bernard, in tow. Moments later, she had poked between two larger viewers, including one bald man who used an open paperback novel to protect his head.

While the crowd eagerly awaited the show, Popova led them in a quick lesson in pronouncing Russian words.

Can you say packed house? Can you say bruised shins and craning necks?

For those lucky enough to have landed a spot stage-side, the show was an impressive display of darkly handsome men and women who mixed ballet and purely athletic movements as smoothly as the best Russian vodka settles over the rocks.

The women, dressed in silky, flowing dresses, moved fluidly, like delicate dolls, across the stage. To a steady drumbeat, the men leaped to unlikely heights, their athletic legs showing years of training, some wearing furry high-setting hats like the gate-keeper at the city of Oz.

Cameras and video recorders dotted the ocean of awed, smiling faces. Flashbulbs popped. Eyeballs popped. This was one impressed crowd.

“They’re wonderful, simply wonderful,” said Helen Anderson of San Marcos, as she perched on a lawn chair, her husband behind her. “Their dance moves are so innovative, so athletic. It’s not quite like anything I’ve ever seen in my life.”

The couple had arrived early, zig-zagging through the crowd to reach their unobstructed view. “I wanted to see the men and see their feet move, and those powerful legs,” she said. “And the women. I love the way they glide along like they were on roller skates. It’s so acrobatic.”

The event included fireworks and speeches by Mayor Maureen O’Connor and Valeri Asatiani, the minister of culture for the Soviet Republic of Georgia. Plaques were awarded and nice words spoken.

But for the Georgian dancers, there was no moment more special than the singing of their republic’s anthem.

“It’s an old folk song that now is going to be adopted as a song of freedom,” dancer Lia Kavtaradze said through an interpreter as she poked her head through the dressing room tent.

“The song did not need an interpreter. We gave it to them with emotion and energy and they returned the feeling.”

After three weeks in San Diego, Kavtaradze said she will miss the people and the culinary surprises she found here--things like pizza and exotic juice drinks. On her last night in the West, she planned to pack her things for the long trip home.

“And then,” she said, “I hope to have time to party.”