Gamarjoba Georgia

Extra, Extra

2011-05-19T12:23:00.003-04:00

Another couple months. Another blog post. Try not to get overwhelmed with the amazing frequency. I know you’re waiting to hear stories of the great accomplishments I’ve been hard at work achieving in my small village in Georgia. But, I wouldn’t want to boast, so I’ll keep those to myself. Still, here is a list of some small things of note (read: headline news—it doesn’t take much to make the front page in Tsinandali).

1. My host nephew and niece had their respective 5^th and 1^st birthdays with the obligatory respective supras. In a related note, I’ve developed my skill of not drinking those toasts bolomde (to the end—in other words, emptying the glass). It takes slight of hand and other diversionary tactics. Something for the resume.

2. I’ve experienced several more unofficial holidays (love day, giorgoba, etc) that students make almost official holidays when they skip school…or at least skip out after the third lesson because they’ve got supras to attend. There are some things I will miss about this country.

3. I’ve learned a very important new Georgian word—ცოფი (rabies). Yes, I was bitten by a Georgian dog, which probably wasn’t rabid. Still generated lots of questions about rabies and also instant celebrity. Not that I’m already not one of the most recognized people in the village…(In another note on the Georgian language, I tested into advanced mid for my knowledge of the language. NDB).

4. Brianpeteroba (celebration of two volunteers’ birthdays) is epic every time.

5. The new 1955 burger (carmelized onions and bacon and bbq-esque sauce) from McDonald’s is pretty balling. And, yes, don’t judge. McDonald’s is actually hip in foreign countries. Plus, it’s something different from khinkali.

6.I’ve had my last SPA (small projects assistance) meeting. During these meetings, a group of volunteers, including yours truly, would allocate funds to volunteer grant proposals. The end of my involvement on this committee means: a) my service is coming to a close; b) no more time reading budgets; c) I have to find another way to get reimbursed trips into Tbilisi…Also, if you’re interested in supporting volunteer projects in Georgia, go to this website. Enter in Georgia and you’ll see a list of projects awaiting your American dollar billz.

7. I’ve been rejected by the Foreign Service. Again. Third time’s the charm? See you next year, FSOT. Yes, I’m desperate and needy and I’ll keep coming back for more. I know, it’s an unhealthy relationship.

8. I will travel long distances for some good food. Trip to Signagi for the one non-Georgian restaurant in the region. Done. Travel to Casa de Jefferson for his gastronomical creations. Done.

9. I’ve given the newly arrived G11s (the newest group of trainees in Georgia) all my knowledge. Or at least told them how to take a bucket bath and use copious amounts of wet wipes for hygienic purposes.

10. You probably shouldn’t send me any more packages. I know, I know, you’re dying to do so. However, it might not make it to Georgia before I leave (This is also a last attempt at reverse psychology because I always want more care packages).

That’s what’s new and good in village life. Only one more month of school left, and then another month of Sakartvelo after that. On the horizon, I’m planning an English end-of-school and end-of-service extravaganza. We’ll read poems and then do snaps. And, of course, supra. I’ve also been working out the post COS (close of service) trip itinerary. I’m thinking beach. I’m thinking food. I’m thinking amenities (but on a frugal budget). Thus far, the plan is to hit up the UAE and Thailand. Random, but awesome. I’ll try to update the blog from time to time in my remaining months. To appease the avid readers until then, go to this website to see some profiles of my fellow volunteers in Georgia. Enjoy!

I'm Alive

2011-03-28T05:40:00.004-04:00

Possibilities for the reason I’ve been MIA from the blog since January:

A. I was bride-napped.

B. I’ve become so integrated and productive in my community that I literally have no time for frivolous blogs.

C. I’ve forgotten English due to my extraordinary Georgian.

D. I was a victim of a fiery marshutka head-on collision and suffered complete amnesia.

E. I am lazy.

So, I’ll leave this one a mystery, and you can just guess which one is correct. It’s a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma, covered in tkemali sauce.

Since winter vacation, the months have been ticking by slowly—probably because there’s been a lot of repetition from last year. We went back to school. Children did not come back to school. Thus, I sat in a cold classroom, waiting to bestow my impressive knowledge on absent students. Snow came, and the pechi (wood stove) became my best friend. But, I also cheated on pechi with my other lover, the hot water bottle. February dragged on because of its complete lack of holidays. How can I get through a whole month when there are no days off? (Yes, I am ruined for real work weeks/months/years upon return to America).

Finally, March arrived, but spring did not come with it. There was, however, the return of the Georgian school holiday because March is women’s month. I celebrated with a group of teachers from school. It’s maybe the one time a year where the women can relax, i.e. they don’t have to serve at their own supra. We had our feast at a restaurant where I gave at least one toast with standing ovation. Then again, it doesn’t take more than a few Georgian words to make this happen. Low expectations for the American. I like it.

Other than holding another session of Writing Olympics this year (yay creative writing!), the winter months have been a blur. Snow, pechi, mud, school, cold, supra, lessons...but I continue to be the most productive volunteer ever in Tsinandali history (maybe because I am the first).

Last week brought the most excitement in these occasionally bleak times. I was in Tbilisi for my Close of Service (COS) Conference. So, now I’m totally prepared to face the new, exciting world after Peace Corps, which will be coming in 4-5 months. If I have a panic attack in the toothpaste aisle of Walmart, due to the sheer number of choices, I am equipped with the proper techniques to move on. We talked strategies about resumes, interviews, selling our “Peace Corps story,” and networking (that doesn’t involve toasts and three shots of chacha). Time to brush up on American pop culture for small talk. Why did Charlie Sheen go crazy? What are your thoughts on Rebecca Black’s “Friday?” What's an iPad?

But COS was not just a time for learning, it was also a time for hobnobbing with important people—the Georgian Prime Minister and National Security Advisor, the U.S. ambassador, members of the Georgian press, etc. No big deal. We had our final ceremony, received some certificates, and ate some Georgian food. No true celebration is complete until the khinkali comes out. So, now it’s back to the village for our remaining time. Have to start working on my legacy. You know, so that every volunteer that comes after me will feel inferior because people will say I loved children so much that I rescued them from burning buildings while simultaneously teaching them perfect English. It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it.

The Prime Minister

The Paparazzi

National Security Advisor and Ambassador Bass

Not Constantinople

2011-01-30T08:07:00.011-05:00

It all began with a bomb scare. Georgia just wasn’t ready to let us go. When I arrived at the Tbilisi airport with my three trusty travel companions, there was a crowd surrounding the Arrivals entrance. Normal mayhem for Georgia, but it turned out to be a not-so-normal situation. Eventually an official looking SWAT team came, complete with dogs. And we were pushed farther and farther away from the doorway, and from our vacation. Frenzied dancing ensued on our part, in efforts to keep warm in the 5 AM temperatures, and we looked longingly at some running EU cars, and their cozy inhabitants. After some time huddling in the train station back into the city, a mad rush toward the airport informed us that our vacation was back in business.

A short plane ride later, and we were out of the land of khatchapuri. A landscape with a thousand minarets was our welcoming group in Istanbul. After living in Georgia, a place not necessarily known for its diversity, it was nice to see something different. A long bus ride through the Asian side and a short ferry over to Europe brought us to tourist central. Dropping off our bags at the hostel, we were ready to take on the city.

At this point, the memories have turned into a blur, but here are some impressions. Our feet were our main form of transportation, with an occasional tram, ferry, or funicular. We padded from mosque to mosque, slipping off our shoes, covering our heads (except for our one male traveler), and gazing up in astonishment. Despite the hordes of tourists, the mosques provided a quick escape where you could let the fluid Arabic script and repetitive, mosaic patterns hypnotize you into contemplative thought. Outside in the city, the memory of the mosques remained with the soundtrack of the call to prayer resonating throughout the day, as we wandered from one sight to another. There was the harem, jewels, and ostentation of Topkapi Palace, the culture clash of Hagia Sophia, and about 10 beckoning salesmen for every hungry and/or souvenir-less wanderer.

We got ourselves lost in the endless twists and turns of the Grand Bazaar and had tea shoved in our face at the Spice Bazaar, but in a friendly manner, of course. There was a search for the best honey-nut ratio in innumerable amounts of baklava consumed. Daily, doner kebab and hot chai (tea) powered our meandering journeys (Starbuck’s might have also helped the process, but wasn’t quite so traditionally Turkish). We discovered that salep (a creamy drink made from orchids) is delicious, but boza (a fermented wheat drink) is not. Also, Turkish delight is not so delightful. My friend Paula and I, in search of some local flavor, went with some adventurous Kiwis (read: people from New Zealand) to go for a Turkish bath where the Turks go. The search, punctuated with us merely repeating the word “hammam” (bath) to non-English speakers, ended at a hole in the wall place on the Asian side where we paid for a nice hot bucket bath and one-layer of skin removal from a Turkish woman.

Other than this, our Istanbul tenure consisted of talks with international travelers in the hostel lounge, a glance at some bizarre-but-interesting exhibits at the Istanbul Modern, a performance by Whirling Dervishes and traditional dancers, partaking in some nargile (hookah), random dancing with Turkish guys out in the streets on New Years Eve, and many an Efes beer, the finest Turkish beverage. We may have also broken out into song with “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” several times. Istanbul—check. Next up—Greece.

We hopped out of town on an old-fashioned night train journey. After some talks with our travel companions and new friends from New Zealand (who also happened to come to Athens and stay in the same hostel as us), the rocking of the train lulled us to sleep. We were rudely awoken by our passport and baggage control upon arrival at the border, but we convinced them we were not enemies of the state and slipped through to the land of the ancients. Lots of ruins, here we come. After a stay in Thessaloniki for a night, it was back to the train, albeit with many a delay, to make it to Athens.

Our stay in Athens involved the same amount of feet ramblings as Istanbul, especially due to the transportation strikes that were occurring because of economic austerity measures and more. The Acropolis, with its famous Parthenon, was the crowning point of the city, and we made our way there first after a stop to look at broken vases and statues at the Acropolis museum. We tread in the same spots as of the great Greek philosophers and heroes and even gods, if you believe the mythology. For fuel, we had Greek salads, spanikopita, gyros, moussaka, pastitsio, and countless pastries. Sadly, we had tired of the anise-flavored liquor in Istanbul (called raki), so ouzo was not on the menu. But we still had the chance to yell “Opa” after the great find of rakomelo, a warmed alcoholic beverage with honey, cinnamon, and some other spices. And fuel we needed since most of our time was spent walking around, looking through second-hand markets, walking up hills for a good view, and imitating the strange movements of the soldiers at the changing of the guards (if only we had the pom-pom shoes!).

Being the diligent and intrepid travelers that we were, though, we soon exhausted the sights and sounds of the big city and fled for the islands. Ferry tickets for Santorini—booked. All that stood between us and the island was an 8-hour sea ride. Let the card playing and talks about life commence. Out from the sea, the cliff-like sides of Santorini erupted into view. The deep blue of the water and the staggering coastline of the island seemed picturesquely unreal. But we were happy to be in that unreality, where the sun warmed our faces and the view just wouldn’t quit—quite a ways from our Georgian twilight zone. For our almost two days on the island, we whipped around the curvy roads from one seeming ghost town to another, cataloging the different beaches (red and black). And we made it just in time to catch a sunset at the very edge of the island, where we drifted up and down the steps, in between houses, in search of more light before the sun disappeared in the water.

Our island paradise was the perfect ending, but hard to leave. Maybe island fever would have eventually set in, but our two days only whetted the appetite for more relaxation with all the modern amenities attached—not exactly what we were expecting to find on return to Georgia. Still, we had time to transition back. A day in Athens, half a day in Istanbul. Time to get our last bites of delicious food—well delicious food that isn’t khatchapuri, or khinkali, or mtsvadi. Time to get one more glance of the sights and colors, one more smell of different spices, and best yet, one more amazing shower.

Remember, Remember the Post of November

2010-11-30T12:45:00.007-05:00

So, I’m trying to commit myself to writing a new post at least once a month. And even though more than a month has elapsed since my last post, I’m still barely getting in a new one in the calendar month of November. It definitely counts. Here goes…

First, some updates. My English cabinet is reaching ever closer to completion. I finally spent the remaining grant money on more books, but the money transfer still has to go through. And then onto the paperwork! Light fixtures are now up in the room, and two out of four work. I like those numbers since most classrooms here have one bare bulb to bring light on those rainy, cloudy, winter days. And we have a new pechi (wood-burning stove) to provide heat. Yay. Decoration is also underway—we’re representing America with a flag and some pictures/quotes from American authors and public figures on the walls. Sarah Palin did not make the cut.

In other update news, 8 of my students ended up taking the FLEX exam to try for a yearlong exchange program courtesy of the American embassy. Three of them made it to round two for another, longer test, and we’re waiting for the results to see if they will progress any further. Unrelated, I’ve also started a community English class at the local culture house. The class mainly consists of house wives from the village, with a few younger students who are looking to improve/learn a little English. We started from the basics (the alphabet) and are working our way up. It’s nice to have well-behaved students somewhere.

Besides this, life continues at its slow village pace—think donkey cart. I’m keeping busy with my lessons—both the ones I teach after school and the ones I am attending (Georgian, Russian, dance). There’s too little time in the day because I’m also trying to keep up with my French and start studying for the Foreign Service Exam, which I’m hoping to take sometime next year. But there’s always a nice Latin soap opera to come home to at night…

To break up the monotony, I’ve had my fair share of events happening. There have been various, spontaneous gatherings with volunteers. At the beginning of November, all the volunteers in country had a training, and we celebrated Thanksgiving early with the staff, the US Ambassador, and each other. Then, just this past weekend, I celebrated second Thanksgiving with a small group of volunteers, sans the turkey, unfortunately. They are not “in season” and are expensive anyways. If I had seen one walking around, I guess I could have attempted to capture and kill it (this desire comes as a holdover from the day when I was almost killed by a turkey during training). However, I wouldn’t want to contribute to the already large livestock theft problem that runs rampant in the country.

For further diversion, I’ve gone hiking with one my 6^th grade class and been witness to a culture exchange of the Georgians from my school and students visiting from a Kisti (Chechen ethnic group) school. This visit was part of an environmental project being implemented by a fellow volunteer’s organization. An eco club will be started in each school, so the two groups will learn about protecting the environment and about each other at the same time.

Additionally, I’ve experienced year two Giorgoba. For those of you not up on your Georgian Orthodoxy, here’s a little blurb from the Peace Corps newsletter:

“St George's day (Giorgoba) is a very important holiday for Georgians and is celebrated every year on November23rd. People go to church, gather together with their families and have supras. Saint George was a Roman soldier and priest in the Guard of Diocletian. He is immortalized in the tale of Saint George and the Dragon. The episode of St George and the Dragon was a legend brought back by the Crusaders and retold with the courtly appurtenances of the romantic genre. According to legend, after St. George’s death God scattered the parts of his body all over Georgia; chapels and churches were erected on each place. There are more than 400 churches and chapels named after St. George all over Georgia. Giorgoba has been celebrated under various names in different regions of Georgia. For example, in Kartli it is celebrated as Geristoba, Usanetoba; in Kakheti as Alaverdoba, Tetri Giorgoba; in Samegrelo as Iloroba, and in the mountain regions of East Georgia as Lasharoba, Lomisoba. Even the country name “Georgia” is related to St. George. The French chronicler Jacques de Vitry and the English traveler Sir John Mandeville wrote that Georgians are called Georgian because they especially revere Saint George. In January 2004, the country adopted the five-cross flag, featuring the Saint George's Cross. The monument on Tbilisi Freedom Square symbolizes the importance of the Saint George in Georgian culture.”

So, when it comes to Georgia, St. George is kind of a big deal. Half the boys are named Giorgi, which is helpful when you forget a name because odds are it’s going to be Giorgi. Accordingly, Giorgoba is also a big deal. I celebrated with my family in the traditional way—sheep slaughter! No holdover from pagan times here…Anyways, I went with my host family to White St. George’s Church, which is in the hills/mountains outside of Telavi (the closest town to me). The church is enclosed with a wall. Outside of this enclosure, the ground was littered with various sheep parts, and sheep killings and skinnings were going down. It’s not for the faint of heart, or vegetarians. We went into the church grounds, walked around the church once, and went inside to light candles. Some people were walking their sheep around the church, and there was a place where it could be blessed if you so desired. After we had drawn and quartered our sheep, we headed back home to have a supra with several other guests who showed up, starting at 3 in the afternoon. It’s five o’clock somewhere?

Well, thus unrolls my life in the Republic of Georgia. I can finally cross my last November here off the calendar. Christmas season is approaching—exciting in itself—but it also brings winter vacation. I’ve got a trip to Istanbul and Greece in the works! Between that and me are 3.5 more weeks of teaching. Should be interesting as temperatures and class attendance rates drop. Still, I’m staying warm (as much as possible) and hopeful.

Until December, Cara

Where Did Fall Go?

2010-10-14T02:25:00.005-04:00

In normal fashion, because I’ve waited so long between posts, this particular blog post will be long and rambling, without a particular theme to carry you through. However, I assure you that it will be filled with delightful anecdotes about yours truly and my “adventures” in Georgia. So, let’s pick up where I last left off…

The beginning of September was filled with me and my counterpart attempting to finish up our English cabinet (basically our classroom for English lessons/English resource center) before the start of school. Of course, because it is Georgia, there were plenty of problems with getting the money out of the school bank account and coordinating purchases with the school director and accountant. According to our educational resource center (ERC), all the purchases needed to be made be money transfer from the school’s bank account to the shop’s bank account. This condition, first of all, limited where we could purchase things because many shops, at least out in the regions, might not even have a bank account. Also, there were some problems because several of our price estimates ended up changing, so we had to look for cheaper options for items since others were more expensive. Thus, my counterpart and I were back and forth to Telavi (the closest town) for price-hunting, purchasing, and transporting items.

Thankfully, my counterpart did an amazing job getting things done, albeit in roundabout ways, and we received a lot of help from her husband, my other counterpart, and some of their friends/the local community. We cleaned, we spackled, we cleaned, we painted, we cleaned, we supervised some workers, and we set up all of our purchases. Did I mention we cleaned? Teachers and other people coming into school during the time leading up to the year’s beginning were astonished that we didn’t hire repairmen/painters/workers to do all the work—even though we probably did as good a job for none of the cost. I must say, though, that in the end, the place looks great, so far. It’s still a work in progress. The place is now outfitted with a TV, DVD player, cassette/CD players, tons of books, CDs, DVDs, magazines, visual aids, and much more. Still to be accomplished—replacing some missing window panes (prevalent in a lot of schools here—no wonder it’s so cold in the winter), hanging some light fixtures, and finishing the decorating. We’ll gradually get to those…sometime this year. For now, we’re using the materials in class, and kids and teachers have already starting checking out books. Yay! I'll post some before and after pictures in the next blog update.

Now, this process sort of rolled us up to the start of school. Last year, the first day wasn’t too big of a deal, but there was a starting of school ceremony with speeches, my introduction to the school community, a little dance, a little song, and a mad dash into school when the first bell rang. All this followed by not much going on. So this year, I got dressed up for the all-important first day, arrived at school, and classes just kind of started as usual. There wasn’t much teaching going on because the schedule was still being finalized, and kids didn’t have their books. But there was no ceremonial start of the school year, just a banner that said “Happy New School Year.” Slightly anticlimactic. School started on a Wednesday—probably a good plan since only half a week was wasted doing not much. I spent those first couple days choosing my new classes for the year, and got to work during the first full week. In other good news, during the first week of school, I had my mid-service medical exam, and I’m disease free. Georgia has yet to get me, at least seriously. Knock on wood…

Thus far, I’ve been feeling pretty good about my work in the community this year. I’m feeling a lot more productive. The number one reason for this is that I’m consistently lesson planning with one of my counterparts. Hallelujah! I’ve taken 5 classes this year for a total of 15 in-class hours, and I’m mainly working with younger grades (3^rd, 5^th, 6^th, 7^th, 8^th). It’s difficult because a lot of my classes are weaker (and many lazier) this year, so we have to adapt lessons to their level and try a lot of motivating tactics. It doesn’t help that the book choices are less than desirable, and kids keep switching over from German (meaning they know zero English, other than “Hello”). Still, lesson planning has been a thousand times more helpful because my counterpart and I can agree on what’s going to happen and have time to prepare materials to liven up classes a little. Obviously, there are still lesson bombs, and the kids are unruly at times (make that, a lot of the time). But I feel that we are working harder to teacher to the students’ level, to an extent, instead of merely racing through the book.

With my other counterparts, it’s another story. They have made attempts at lesson planning (I think because they see me lesson planning with the third counterpart), but they have been half-hearted at best. I’m hoping to turn it around still, but it’s difficult when the other person is unmotivated to change what they’ve been doing for years. It’s also not helpful that I’m kind of overloading myself with extracurricular activities. I may only have 15 in-class hours, but that involves several hours outside of class for lesson planning and material preparation. I’m also trying to help some students prepare for the FLEX exams (a competition of sorts that elects students for a one-year exchange program in the US, funded by the State Department). On top of that, I am tutoring one girl outside of class (who approached last year for help with English). I probably shouldn’t have taken her on, though, because it has opened the door for thousands of requests from every other person in the community asking me to either teach them or to teach their children. And they don’t understand the fact that I can’t accept payment for the services because the idea of volunteerism is so foreign here.

I do want to help people learn English, but there are just too many requests and too little time. I am thinking of doing another teachers group this year and also one community class for older people. But, I feel like those who are interested should understand that I can’t explain English grammar to them in Georgian that well. I’d be more helpful for those who already know some English and want to improve on conversation, pronunciation, fluency, etc. That thought doesn’t seem to enter their minds. And English lessons aren’t even the half of it. I’ve got Georgian lessons twice a week, Russian lessons twice a week, and Georgian folk dance lessons twice a week. Needless to say, I’m slightly overbooked.

Apart from the everyday stuff, life hasn’t been too dull recently. This year, I definitely feel even more welcome in Tsinandali, and I know a lot more people. Thus, I’m more often invited over to people’s house or invited to supras. I’ve gotten really close to my host family, despite the frustrating cross-cultural differences at times (like force-feeding disguised as hospitality), and many of their friends and family have become my own. Then, you throw tourists into the mix. As I may have mentioned before, my family sort of runs a guesthouse-like service where tourists come to see our vineyard/yard, the winemaking process, supra in the feasting hall, and sometimes stay overnight. Business has really picked up, in the summer and in the past month. We’ve had Germans, Poles, Japanese, Ukrainians, Americans, French (my favorite since I get to brush up on my language skills), and the list goes on. One time, we even had a group of about 50 people all together that included that head of the Christian Democrats (opposition party) and lots of representatives from different embassies in Tbilisi. So, I’ve been working on my translating skills, and astounding Georgians and foreigners alike. For example, a man from the Spanish embassy that I was translating for with my host dad later asked me where I got such a good American accent. I guess I blend in with the Georgians well enough. The guests have also been more numerous of late because we recently had this year’s rtveli (or grape harvest), so wine making is in full force.

Obligatory American performance at supra. She sings! She dances!

Some of the host family women, including the newly baptized Mariami.

Standing next to the over-100 year old grape vine.

Finally, the only reason I had some free time to post is because today is a Georgian religious holiday. Sometimes, you have to like a little less separation of church and state—not on principle, but just for the fact that there are more days off of school. Anyways, here’s a little blurb from our Peace Corps Georgia newsletter about the holiday. “On the14th of October the Orthodox Georgian church celebrates Svetistkhovloba (Sveti – a pole; tskhoveli – miraculous) and also the saint days of the king Mirian and queen Nana, who first declared Christianity as the official religion in of Georgia. Legend says that after the crucifixion, the shroud of Christ went to Elioz and Longiroz who brought it to Mtskheta, the old capital of Georgia. Elioz’s sister, Sidonia, embraced the shroud of Christ and died. She was buried together with it and on her grave a cypress tree grew. During the reign of the king Mirian in the 4th century A.D. it was decided to build a church on the place of the cypress. The builders tried to use the cypress as a post, but the cypress could not be moved. After the prayers of St. Nino the pole rose to the height of 12 meters. The whole of Mtskheta gathered to see this miracle. Every year the Catholicos –Patriarch of all Georgia, Ilia II, conducts a celebrative liturgical ceremony on account of this day in Svetitskhoveli church in Mtskheta.”

Well, that’s all for now. Hit me up with some emails, or letters, or care packages (yes, I’ve lost all shame for requesting such things). Hope things are well on the other side of the world. It’s all thermal sleeping bag season here!

My host dad as tamada.

My host mom hanging up the churchkhela (i.e. Kaketi's Snickers-i).

Mtsvadi -- the closest thing to Georgian BBQ

Crushing the grapes - unfortunately, no grape-stomping Lucy-like antics

Distilling the chacha (i.e. dangerous, potent liquor made from grapes)

Summer Happenings

2010-08-28T04:52:00.006-04:00

Well, in true Georgian fashion, I’ve been slacking on the blog front. Since my summer travels and last post, I’ve been going through the revolving door of appearances at various fashionable Georgian events and continual religious holidays.

First up on my plate was summer camp in Didi Chailuri, my training village from last year. Most of the other volunteers from my cluster and I decided to come back and entertain the kids of the village for a while. According to our Peace Corps report forms, it also involved instilling values about fitness and leadership, working on team-building, and engendering creativity. But really, we just played with the kids. And I must say, it’s really not too hard to keep these kids entertained. There’s really not that much to do in the village. So, we blew their minds with some relay races, capture the flag, making masks out of cardboard, friendship bracelets, etc. We were even going to try tie-dye, but to no avail. There wasn’t enough water in the village or gas to heat large amounts of water. Instead, the children enjoyed drawing on each others’ shirts with non-permanent markers…Whoops. We also wanted to attempt a bonfire on the last night of our camp. Again, the plan was foiled because the field where we wanted to light it up was extremely dry, and we didn’t want to be responsible for a big fire sweeping the Georgian countryside. Still, the kids had a great time at least having something to do for several days, and we were restored to our celebrity status in the DC—not that we ever really lost it.

Following summer camp, I had my first real experience of the Georgian religious holiday of the Transfiguration of Jesus, also known as ფერისცვალება - peristsvaleba. Here, I’ll throw in a little blurb from the volunteer newsletter with information on the holiday. “On August 19 the Orthodox Church marks the day of Transfiguration of Jesus. The Transfiguration of Jesus is an event reported by the Synoptic Gospels in which Jesus was transfigured upon a mountain. The Gospels state that Jesus led three of his apostles to pray at the top of a mountain. Once at the top, Jesus became transfigured, his face shining like the sun, and his clothes a brilliant white. Jesus spoke with Moses and Elijah, and was called "Son" by God. The word “ფერისცვალება” literally means “change of color” („ფერი“ color and „ცვალება“ change). Beside going to church and attending the service, in Georgia there are other practices and beliefs related to this event varying from region to region. For example, you will find different sorts and colors of fruit on the table in Georgian families. Also, it is believed that after “ფერისცვალება” a noticeable climate change takes place; according to a legend on this vary day somewhere up in the mountains the huge lamp of ice drops in water which is a sign of weather becoming milder. You may hear people saying: “it won’t be that hot after August 19”.

And contrary to all we volunteers wanted to believe (i.e. that all the crazy baseless Georgian superstitions are not true), the weather actually did start to cool down after this day. For what reason, I’m not sure, but it happened. My host family’s celebration of the holiday was also quite interesting. We, along with many other Georgians in the community, went to the local cemetery to visit the deceased members of the family. Various fruits—watermelon, melon, grapes—came along for the journey. Upon arrival at the cemetery, my host dad cracked them open. We all partook in bounty and then began placing pieces of the fruits in front of the graves of relatives or close family friends—some who had died long ago and others more recently. Also, at each grave, my host mom cleaned up the area and burned the obligatory candles to honor the dead.

Now, Georgian cemeteries are not your run-of-the-mill resting place like back in the U.S. Instead of the more typical rows of gravestones and grassy lawns, in true Georgian fashion, the cemeteries here are patchworks of plots, complete with fences cutting off different family areas. And rather then simple gravestones with names, dates, and epitaphs, many gravestones have drawings of the deceased, sometimes up to life-sized portraits. So, when Georgians come back to visit (which they do on holidays throughout the year), they sit down at the picnic/supra tables that are also populating the cemetery and are surrounded by these depictions of their loved ones. Thus, I made the rounds of the cemetery with my host family, cleaning the plots, placing the fruits, and burning candles at each one. Then, it was back to life as normal in Georgia…or so I thought.

However, the following weekend, I was invited to attend my host brother’s friend’s wedding. It’s easy to get an invite when you’re the celebrity America. While this wasn’t truly a Georgian wedding (it was actually for Armenians who lived in Georgia), many of the traditions were similar to Georgian wedding traditions. But this was an extended two-day affair, which is less typical for Georgians. The party started out at the groom’s house where there was toasting and dancing in the streets. Then, we progressed to the bride’s home, accompanied by more toasting and dancing in the streets. The entourage continued to the church, where the ceremony was performed, and then up to Mtatsminda (meaning “holy mountain”) for some picture taking. After one more quick trip back to the groom’s house to break some plates (?), we were off to the rented hall where supra-ing would continue until midnight. Mind you, this whole affair started around noon, and each trip back and forth involved a long line of decorated cars honking the whole way. Videographers were also in attendance. Did I mention there was lots of toasting and dancing in the streets?

The wedding ceremony (called jvristzera in Georgian) was not too out of the ordinary. There was only one maid of honor and one best man, as is typical for Georgian weddings. But there were about four flower girls. Some sort of vow was exchanged (all in Russian, though), as were rings. At the end, everybody in attendance walked up to congratulate the couple, and rice and roses were thrown at the bride and groom as they exited the church. The wedding supra was also similar to your typical Georgian supra, filled with toasts (my host dad was the toastmaster/tamada), lots of dancing, cutting of the cake, and throwing the bouquet. One different tradition was that the bride was offered gold jewelry at one point during the supra, and she danced while family members and guests put the various pieces on her. Day 2 of the affair was just another smaller supra with more food, cognac, wine, and of course dancing.

Thus, my wedding experience was over (oh, and don’t worry, I received plenty more exhortations to get married in Georgia), but the supra was not. I followed up the wedding with a more somber time back in Didi Chailuri for a 40 days supra. In Georgia, there is a supra upon the burial of a person (in this case, my host great grandfather), and then again 40 days after the initial funeral. In the interim, usually the close family members follow certain traditions. For example, men in the family might not shave for 40 days. So, I was able to experience this remembrance of the deceased family member.

Finally, today is another religious holiday here in ole Sakartvelo. It’s Mariamoba, or the Assumption of Mary. Now, for another blurb from the Peace Corps Georgia newsletter: “The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary (Mariamoba-მარიამობა) is celebrated on August 28 in Georgia. Usually celebrated on August 15 in Roman Catholic communities worldwide, this day commemorates the assumption of the Blessed Virgin into heaven. In Georgia, church ceremonies and feasts mark the event. Beside visiting a church, praying, and lighting a candle, there are some other traditions as well. Georgians carry lamb to the church, walk around the church three times and then slaughter the lamb. Meat is then boiled and shared with family and friends.” I did get a chance to celebrate this holiday last year with my host family, though there was no slaughter of the lambs. However, today I’m in the big city, so I’ll be missing out.

Hopefully, this unending post will make up for my negligence in the past. For now, until the start of school on September 15, I’ll be working on setting up my English cabinet and resource center, and also working diligently on more blog posts…

Photo Montage

2010-08-02T07:54:00.009-04:00

Because it has been a while since my last post (due to 3 weeks in America, playing host in Georgia, and general laziness induced by air-condition-less living), I'll put up a photo montage for some of my time. Enjoy. (Oh, it's also in reverse-chronological order)

Batumi, as seen from the ferris wheel

A Batumi sunset

Medea and the golden fleece (you know she came from Georgia, right?)

Scandalous water fountains

Batumi's stone beaches

Eileen saying goodbye to cruel amenity-less Georgia

Quick stop in Uplistsikhe

Stalin. He did some bad and some good. Just like George Washington. Would you tear down a statue of Washington?

(thoughts from an actual Georgian)

Mtskheta - old capital and one of the holiest places in Sakartvelo

Sameba (Trinity) Church - most balling church in all of Sakartvelo

Gurjaani

Chicago (as seen from the Hancock Center)

The Bean (or the Cloud)

Chi-town

Mason is a Svan

Mason and Me

Borjomi's Ferris Wheel

Bumper Cars

Sapara

Our excursion group (10th grade)

Georgian Army on hike

Vardzia

Vardzia (Cave City)

Random Castle

One Year Down

2010-06-17T06:37:00.002-04:00

If you didn’t guess from the title of this post, my first year in Georgia has officially passed. Yay! It’s definitely surreal to think back on my time so far in this crazy but amazing country and reflect on how far I’ve come, what I’ve seen, and all that I have learned.

How far have I come? Well, accordingly to, I’m sure, a very reliable distance calculator that I found through Google search, I went about 9404 kilometers (or 5844 miles) from the great state of Ohio to Georgia’s deda qalaqi (capital; literally, mother city) of Tbilisi. No, Tsinandali was not searchable. Surprise, surprise. But it’s really not the physical distance that makes the difference. I left the comforts of American society and the well-known ground of our culture and transplanted myself, with a little help from Peace Corps, into a place entirely new, and for many people back home, unknown. Sure, I lucked out with the Peace Corps lottery; despite French language skills, no hot, deprived African country for me. I also didn’t end up in a country with VERY conservative standards, as I could have been. Nope, I lucked out with a relatively westernized, advanced culture and society here in Georgia, not to mention with some of the comforts of home (A toilet! A shower!). I don’t have the luxuries or entertainment of Tbilisi, the education system is a struggle, the traditional gender roles and values can clash against my American upbringing, and sometimes certain Georgian traits can get on my nerves (Do they really have to force feed me? Must they always inquire why I’m not married at my spinster-like age of 23?). Oh, did I mention they speak Georgian here? So, yeah, it’s a little far from the good ole US of A. Still, as far as I’m concerned, it’s all been worth it for what I’ve gained in return.

What have I seen? I have been around at least half of Georgia since we’ve had lots of travel restrictions until lately—but there are still plenty. Still, I’ve visited lots of volunteers in their respective villages and cities. The Caucasus Mountains are right outside my window, and I’ve seen them up close while hiking. I’ve traveled out to Borjomi (middle of the country) to see the new trainees, and this area of the country has its own lush mountains and kargi haeri (good air). In addition, I’ve spent plenty of time touring around the capital city. Georgia actually has a very diverse topography for such a small country, and now I’m only waiting to get out to the sea coast. Of course, this category includes more than just your regular sightseeing; it’s more the experiences that I’ve witnessed which have left the greatest impression. Magalitad (for example), I’ve been to my fair share of supras, commemorating everything from birthdays to graduation to harvests to holidays to deaths. My host family and community have enriched my time here with the day-to-day business of living in Georgia as well as with their celebration of festive times. I've become not only a new host aunt, but also a real aunt! I’ve seen students really making a great effort to learn and impress their teachers, and I’ve seen others not making quite so great an effort…I’ve seen Georgians give up their seats for their elders and the great respect they have for each other. I’ve seen the tight-knit nature of the Georgian family and community, as well as their warm hospitality. I’ve seen fellow volunteers do amazing things, and also seen their projects do not quite so well due to circumstances outside their control. I’ve seen the hopes and frustrations of Georgians and fellow Americans in this country, and they constantly remind me of the work that’s still left to be done.

What have I learned? I’ve learned to never sit on concrete because you WILL become barren. If a piece of silverware drops off the table, a guest is coming. If you go outside with wet hair, you WILL catch a cold. If you clean your plate well at the table, you will meet a nice husband or wife. Apart from these completely veritable Georgian beliefs, I have learned much more. I’ve learned the Georgian language (well, a lot of it), and that’s quite the accomplishment in itself. I’ve learned to appreciate even more the work that teachers do, and the stuff they have to put up with—from administrators, colleagues, and oh-so-lovable children. I’ve learned how to have really good relationships with my students, my colleagues, community members, etc. I’ve picked up various observations about teaching, but I feel like I’m still working on being a good teacher—partially due to my own ineptitude, and partially due to the system within which I’m working. I’ve learned how to write a grant. I've learned how to harvest grapes and make wine. I’ve learned about the importance of friends and family and the importance of really making the effort to communicate with them. But most of all, I think I’ve learned how to truly living in another culture—absorbing all the information I can about said culture while still being strong in my own beliefs and ideas.

To sum up, I’m looking forward to the next year or so that I have left to continue my education and experience in Georgia. I’m not going to lie, though; the trip back home comes at a much needed time. But there is still so much to discover, and there’s always more work on my Georgian skills or actually working on Russian. I know my second year will come with its own challenges and rewards, but hey I made it through one year already ready. And I think it will only get easier with the end date always approaching ever so closer (at the latest, that would be August 20, 2011). Well, that’s all for now. Year two, here I come.

A Random Week in the Life of a PCV

2010-05-31T11:28:00.006-04:00

Another day, another lari. Doesn’t have quite the same ring as a dollar, but we do what we can. As predicted, the reminder of my May has been quite packed, but here’s a little update for clamoring fans.

First up in the past week was a celebration with some host family relatives of their village’s dgheoba. If you haven’t noticed, the names of Georgian celebration are pretty uniform. Add an –oba to the end and you’ve got yourself a holiday. Giorgoba = St. George’s Day. Tbilisoba = Tbilisi’s day of celebration. So my host family relatives were celebrating the day (dghe) of their village. Since the whole village was celebrating, it was less of your traditional supra because throughout the day, neighbors and friends of the family were coming in and out of the house. Some drank one glass of wine to toast the family and left. Others stuck around for a couple toasts. And the hardiest were in it for the long haul.

After this, I made it out to Borjomi (in the middle of the country-ish) for some “real” work. The new group of volunteers that came in April is doing their training right now in various villages around Borjomi. I went out there to do volunteer mentoring, i.e. I was placed in one cluster of 5 volunteers, watched their lessons and gave recommendations, answered questions about life in the trenches, supra-ed a little with the best of them, and generally astounded their host families with my impressive Georgian language skills—at least in comparison to the trainees who have only been here a month or so. Thus, it was a nice self-esteem boost. It was great to meet some of the bright-eyed newbies who are almost fresh off the plane. Here comes nostalgia lane. I’ve been here almost a year! There have obviously been all the ups and downs of living in a foreign country, especially in Peace Corps conditions. But the experience has only been becoming more and more enriching. Of course, I’ve got a nice reprieve in America to look forward to. Still, I’m proud of my accomplishments so far, even if their hard to grasp and not necessarily going to end up on a resume. But back to the story. I finished up my time with the new trainees and made the mile hike out to the main road to hail down a marshutka.

Last Wednesday was Georgian Independence Day, which meant a day off of school. Yay, Georgian holidays. However, I mainly spent the day hanging out with my host family. In Tbilisi, there were various patriotic activities, i.e. a presidential address in front of parliament and a concert at night. But definitely not the same fanfare I expect for the good ole Fourth of July.

Thursday brought some hob-knobbing with VIPs because it was the ceremony for the winners of the Peace Corps Writing Olympics. I had one winner from my school who came out with my counterpart teacher. The ceremony was head at the U.S. Embassy’s DCM’s (Deputy Chief of Mission) house, a.k.a. the second in command. There were PCVs, the winners, family members, representatives from the Embassy, the Ministry of Education, and various international schools and organizations in Tbilisi. The DCM’s house made our Peace Corps accommodations seem slightly pitiful, but at least there’s something to aspire to. What’s most important is that the students, and I’m sure their family members, had a great time. I capped the night off with some burgers and ice cream for a fellow volunteer’s birthday. We also tried out the new bridge that Saakashvili had built over the river near Old Town Tbilisi.

Saturday held more activities for me since I first had Race for the Cure followed by a birthday supra in Tbilisi. This was maybe the fifth or so year of having the Race in Georgia, and it was held at Turtle Lake. About 15 volunteers made it out to help monitor the race, but 5 of us, including moi, also ran the 5k. Sorry to disappoint, but I did not win the 100 lari cash prize, but I did complete my first race in under a half hour. The race was followed by a lap of everyone around the track and then a free concert. VIPs in attendance including Georgia’s first lady, the American ambassador, Nodiko from Geostar (i.e. Georgia’s American idol), other famous singers I don’t know, and this really awesome group called Mgzavrebi. And all this was followed up with some birthday supra for my host nephew before coming home yesterday with my host mom and other host nephew who came into the city to celebrate.

Some of the PCVs at the Race

The First Lady (in the center)

A Traditional Men's Folk Singing Group from Lagodekhi

Nodiko

Mgzavrebi

My Two Host Nephews and Niece

Today, it was back to school as usual, though with only three weeks left, I have a feeling the children will start trickling out…We’ll see how it goes. With that, I’m done. Sorry if this was slightly boring and lacking in overarching meaningful themes, symbols, and plot twists. I’ll work on that for next time.

Ciao.

Bolo Zari

2010-05-18T14:19:00.006-04:00

Rogorts koveltvis (like always), it’s been a while since my last post. And big changes are happening in

Georgia

…well, not really. But, I’ve at least been keeping busy. It feels like I’ve been running all over the place this month. I visited my old host family in Didi Chailuri for a host family’s birthday—came into town around 8 PM, supra-ed until 3 in the morning, and headed out the next day to get back to site. The weekend after that, I visited a volunteer in Marneuli for some catch-up time and then was able to see the thriving metropolis of Rustavi, aka Soviet block apartment central. Still, it’s a real city, and it’s hard to imagine that volunteers actually live there because their experience just must be so different from mine. The reason I was there was to celebrate two of the volunteers birthdays, so we spent our time at a café with some beers, then a restaurant for pizza, some partying at various apartments, and some time in the club. It’s a hard life for a Peace Corps volunteer. I mean I only have so much living stipend. This same weekend, since I was passing through Tbilisi, I was able to drop off my completed grant to fund an English cabinet for my school. And within that same week, I was back in Tbilisi since I’m only the committee that approves grants for the money we are given from USAID. More time in the big city. But the good news is…my grant received funding! So, we’ll be do some very small-scale renovations this summer and stocking our English cabinet with some technological, audio/visual, and written materials (i.e. books – just let the kids read). Also in this time, we've had the Georgian holidays of Giorgoba, St. Andrew's Day, and Victory Day (although the first isn't an official day off, and the last was on a Sunday, so no day off).

Other than these runnings around, I’ve been getting through the days at school. It’s particularly painful since the weather has improved so quickly. Instead of cold and rain, it’s been sunny days—making the desire for summer vacation all the stronger. So, kids don’t want to be at/don’t come to school in winter because it’s too cold, but the same holds for the end of the school year since it’s so nice outside. Basically, I’m out of luck. Still, we’re trying to teach to the kids that do make it out, but it’s so much harder when motivation is lacking and summer is just around the corner (one month!). To top things off, the twelfth graders and first graders finished this past week. For some reason, they get out a month early. It sort of makes sense for the twelfth formers, who have the national exams in a month (for those planning on going to college). They’ll get an extra month to study and go to their private tutors. And this brings me to the focus of this post, Bolo Zari (last bell). Even though I don’t teach the twelfth grade, I was able to celebrate the end of school traditions because one of my counterparts is the head teacher for one of the twelfth grades. Of course, I was also invited since I’m the token American, and that always enlivens the party. What follows is the story.

Friday, about midday, was the real bolo zari, i.e. the last time that the twelfth graders ring the school bell, and school’s out forever. Of course, that day, classes were mainly a sham since nothing really got accomplished. All of the graduating seniors came to school only for the last bell festivities. The girls were all dressed up in the latest Georgian fashions, and even the boys were rocking some nice shirts, a blazer, and even a tie or two. Another tradition for the last bell is that the students bring in a white shirt and have people (other students or teachers) write a message on the T-shirt. These will come into play later in this account (foreshadowing). So, when it was deemed time, almost all of the graduates came up to the teacher’s lounge and pretty much tried to ring the bell off (we have an actual bell that is used when there’s no electricity). They also rang the electric bell for good measure. Following this, there was a small ceremony where various teachers gave some speeches with their wishes for the graduates. And, of course, it wouldn’t be complete with the whole song and dance—one boy sang a traditional Georgian folk song on a panduri, and two of my fifth grade students performed a short dance. Then, it was time for the excursions to start

Many students or their parents had cars that they would use to transport us to various sites in the Tsinandali area; there was also a marshutka for those who couldn’t fit in the cars. I found myself in the middle back seat between two twelfth grade girls that I knew. Also accompanying us was one of the girl’s brothers (another graduate), and their relative who was driving us. First we drove to the Chavchavadze museum and garden in Tsinandali, and got pulled over for going too fast on the way there—a sign of the great things to come. The area was packed with people because in Georgia, many schools (or at least their bolo zaris) finish on the same day, so during the whole day, there was nicely dressed Georgian teenagers all over the place (at the churches, on the roads), with balloons and white T-shirts. At the park, our group mainly loitered around and waited for everyone to get there. Then, we traveled in packs to a church called Shuamta (in the middle of the mountains), which was built in the 5^th-7^th century and is a place where Georgians in the area would hide from their enemies. This was followed by a visit to Alaverdi, another church in the area. Pretty much, we arrived at the two places, went in, lit some candles, said some prayers, and then head out to the next place. But the getting to and leaving from these places was a little crazy. Mainly because the road was filled with excited teenagers, racing in their cars, weaving in and out of traffic, hanging out of car windows, waving their balloons and white T-shirts, and music pouring out of the windows. Some time was even spent just going around and around the main square in Telavi, the nearby city. It was actually a lot of fun being in the thick of it, and it was definitely cool that there was this solidarity since all the schools were finishing on the same day. However, it was less fun for the (real) teachers and parents who were worried about the safety of the kids. And not without reason, since there were several accidents

After the excursions were over, safely for us, our group headed back to Tsinandali where we head to the woods at the top of the village to hold of simple supra—simple meaning just mtsvadi (grilled meat), bread, cheese, vegetables, beer, and wine. Thus, the rest of the night consisted of grilling the meat, eating, drinking toasts, and of course, dancing. We used one of the cars as our music provider and danced in a clearing until nightfall. Basically, I left for school at 9 that morning, and didn’t come back until after 9 at night. Quite productive. It was a good time since I was able to meet a lot more of the twelfth graders that I didn’t know, which made for a more enjoyable time for the next two days that I celebrated with them.

Saturday night was the banquet for the twelfth graders, and it’s pretty much the closest thing they have to prom here. The girls get all dressed up and go to the salon to get their hair and nails done. The boys put on a jacket. So, it’s not quite as fancy, not the same formal dresses and tuxedos, but it’s a supra with lots of dancing involved. I got dressed up in the nicest clothes I brought to Georgia and headed out with my host brother, who also works at the school. We went to Chavchavadze Park again, where the classes were gathering. However, there are two twelfth grade classes, and they have separate parties. Some teachers go to one, and others go to the second. But, there are also some visits between the two parties even though they take place at different locations. Thus, I went off to my party in a marshutka with some other teachers and a few students. We showed up, supra-ed, and danced A LOT. There were toasts, there was chanting, there was videotape (did I mention they videotape all of the festivities for a montage to be made for the graduates). The party lasted all night. In the morning, we went to a high place in the city to see the sunrise, but no luck since it was a cloudy day. So, I ended up getting home around 7 in the morning. Success.

The next day, no rest for the weary. Well, a little. I slept until probably 2 in the afternoon, went to a dance concert in Tsinandali at 6 (which I’ll discuss in a later post), and then it was time for more celebration. This time, the graduates were getting together at one of their houses. I came with my counterpart teacher, who was the class’s head teacher. Back to more of the same, lots of food, lots of wine, met some new parents, had some good conversations (in Georgian and English), again danced a lot, and stayed up until 5 in the morning—helping with clean up and talking with some of the students that lived there or nearby. Oh, did I mention there was dancing on chairs and countertops (not be me, thank goodness), and one of the chairs broke? My counterpart played some songs on the panduri, I did the Vakhtanguri toast with several different people (link arm to drink, finish your class, and kiss three times on the cheeks), and did I mention there was dancing? I stayed at the house that night for my two hours of sleep before I had to head home to get ready for my long day at school – 7 lessons, yessssss. Needless to say, I was dragging a little, as well as my counterpart teacher. But, I made it through and slept that afternoon. Overall, it was an amazing time. I must say I’m a fan of the Georgian tradition of bolo zari. Oh, I also found out today, that those kids were at it again last night, partying until morning. Then again, they don’t have to go to school in the morning. Soon, oh so soon, I’ll be in the same situation. Though, I’ll still have work to do.

Well, there’s the story of my crazy weekend. And this ridiculously packed month isn’t done yet. I still have a trip to visit host family relatives this weekend. Next week, I’ll be in Borjomi area to help with training of the new volunteers. Next Wednesday is Georgian Independence Day, so no school! The day after that is a ceremony for the winners of the Writing Olympics, including one Tsinandleli. Andddd, that following weekend, I’ll be in Tbilisi for a host family birthday, and Race for the Cure (wish me luck!). So, I might have an update or two coming your way…if I have time to actually write something down.

That’s all for now…Well, almost. Less than 40 days until my triumphant return to the land of the free and the home of the brave. Not that I’m counting…Also, absolute final close of service (COS) is August 20, 2011. Feel free to make a countdown and plan a homecoming party. Though, I’ll actually probably be doing some traveling post-service, meaning I won’t be home until later. Still, you can start thinking about presents for my homecoming ;)

Busy Days and Little Victories

2010-04-25T02:26:00.003-04:00

View pretty much from my window. Caucasus Mountains in the back.

Hey, only ten days since the last blog. Great success! You tend to start measuring success differently when you’re working as a Peace Corps volunteer. Since the last post, there have been the normal ups and downs of my Georgian life, but life is starting to get busier—thanks to me filling my own schedule a bit, Peace Corps responsibilities, and the start of spring bringing some excitement into the village. But first, there’s some back story to catch up on. So, here we go.

First off, the Friday after Easter was another holiday in the country o’ Georgia. It was the Day of National Unity, which is meant to commemorate when a group of Georgians were killed in Tbilisi by Soviet soldiers in 1989. For me, it just meant a three day week. So, Peace Corps Georgia is spoiling me for the real work world. How will I get through a full five day (or more), 40 hour (or more) work week again? I mean there’s a lot of off the clock work being the American poster child, so there’s that in my favor. But a new group of Georgian holidays are popping up in May, too. I don’t hate it.

Since I had the day off, though, I decided to make the trek into Tbilisi since I had to be in the city that weekend for the judging of the Georgian Writing Olympics. My Tbilisi time was filled with the usual hanging in real cafes (with WIFI!), eating way too much non-Georgian food, and checking out some classy establishments at night. This time, I also took some time wandering around one of the main bazaars in the city. I was mainly there to look for some English reading books to offer as prizes to my students (since I’m running some homework completion competitions right now—yay positive reinforcement), but I may have also given into weakness and made other purchases. My hard-earned Peace Corps living allowance seems to disappear in the big city.

On Saturday, I actually had some work to do because I volunteered to help judge the Writing Olympics. This is a creative writing competition held throughout Georgia by the Peace Corps volunteers in village and city schools. The winning essays would then go on to be judged in the trans-Caucasus Writing Olympics which would include Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Moldova this year. We had some rounds of volunteer judging which essays were the most creative (no points for grammar, since we just want to get these kids thinking out of the post-Soviet box), and then there were some Georgians who came in and make the final placement decisions. There was definitely the usual cropping of boring essays that were hard to get through, but some kids came up with amazingly crazy ideas. And, I’m proud to say that Tsinandali had one regional winner. A student in my 10^th form was the grade winner for the Kakheti region, so there was at least a small boost in her confidence and for my school! I’m just hoping for even better results next year.

I came back to the village on Sunday, and on Monday was invited to a student’s birthday supra for the next day. This student happens to be in my 7^th grade class, and her aunt, who she lives with, is one of my counterpart teachers. Thus, I agreed to attend. Of course, my whole 7^th grade class was in attendance, unlike in school. It was mainly a party for the kids, and I had a place of honor at the kids’ table. And, yes the 7^th grade students drank sufficient wine. The professional line is a lot blurrier in Georgia. Anyways, I bounced from the kids table to the grown-up table, drinking wine and giving toasts at each. Nothing impresses the Georgians more than a toast in Georgia. So, I was making friends, and also dancing up a storm. Thank you, Georgian dance lessons—necessary party trick at supras. Oh, and if you’re wondering, none of my kids had their homework done for school the next morning, but they were mainly there. Count those small successes.

Wednesday of that week brought my first experience of a rugby game. One of my students told me that day that there would be a Telavi-Tbilisi match in Tsinandali. Why? Don’t ask me. Never one to pass up something to do in the village, though, I decided to go along. Luckily, I found one of my female students there who had accompanied a relative. Otherwise, I would have been about the only female watching the game. Normally, I would be fine with that. In Georgia, the situation is a little different, especially when trying to avoid Georgian suitors. Still, it was a pretty interesting match, and I wouldn’t be opposed to going to another. Just sitting outside in the nice weather wasn’t too shabby either.

Thursday brought another Georgian holiday, but no school off today. But I don’t really have classes on Thursday. Just a teachers’ lesson during the last period. So, I showed up at school a little bit early, walked in to deserted hallways, make my way up to the teachers’ lounge, and find a supra going at full blast. Got to celebrate the love in Georgia, never mind that it was tax day in America. Of course, I had to sample the khatchapuri and the khinkali and the cake and the wine before making myself scarce. A pretty action-packed week, no? It wasn’t over yet.

That Friday, there was a football (soccer for us Americans) match in Tsinandali. Our kids versus Kvareli, who we crushed. Village pride. I was chilling amongst all my students on the hill that serves as the stadium seats and enjoying the fine weather. Then, following the match that day there was a traditional Georgian folk concert in the village’s club/theatre. I walked in about 5 minutes before it was supposed to start and got a seat front row, center because some of my young students gave the spot to me. There are perks to being the American celebrity in town. Soon, I’ll be rolling with my entourage of sixth and seventh graders. Anyways, the concert included our local boys singing as well as a group from Tbilisi. Seeing as this week was so filled (comparatively), I was able to make it through the first five-day-er in a long time. It didn’t hurt that it was followed up by a nice weekend in Telavi, making some tacos and seeing some new sights.

Tsinandali kicking some traki against Kvareli.

Our stadium seating.

Some of my 5th graders at the concert.

Tsinandali boys rocking the chokha.

The Tbilisi ensemble and a guy with a panduri.

But this past week, I had a bit of a break, again, because I had a trip into Tbilisi, again, for business purposes. Thus, I made it through the first three days of the week with its usual mix of good and bad before heading out to the capital on Thursday afternoon. I had to be in town Friday morning (and can’t get an early marshutka out in the morning) due to a SPA meeting (the committee I’m on that decided which small grants are approved). Then, Friday afternoon was the official opening of our new office, which has actually been in use for a couple months. Still, there was a big to-do with the ambassador coming as well as some representatives from the Ministry of Education. We are very important people.

Well, there are my updates for now. I’m really trying to keep more on top of the blog, but we’ll see how it goes if I keep getting more distractions. I’m doing the lessons at school, doing some after school lessons, finishing up my grant, keeping up with Georgian lessons, starting Russian lessons, and, you know, being an all-start American front-line diplomat to the Georgians. Oftentimes, though, busy is good.

In other news, I want to thank all the people who’ve sent me a package recently; they’ve been much appreciated! And finally, I want to give a shout-out to a friend, Jess, who just accepted a Peace Corps invitation to serve in Mali! Congrats, you’ll soon be starting a great journey!

Stay classy, America.

P.S. Added bonus picture of my new host neice, Mariami.

A Georgian Easter Story

2010-04-15T10:56:00.010-04:00

Well, per usual, I’ve let another two weeks pass since the last post. But you’ll have to excuse me because I’m kind of a big deal. Places to go, people to see, Tchatcha to drink. And recently, I’ve been basking in the abundance of Georgian holidays which either gives us some days off or at least decreased attendance at school. So, let’s get this show started, oh and FYI some of this information I’ve stolen from the quarterly newsletters Peace Corps send us. Yay, plagiarism—acceptable in

Georgia

For Orthodox Christians Easter is the biggest religious holiday. The date is moveable and can fall any time between April 4 and May 8. This year Easter was celebrated on April 4. Easter is preceded with the biggest fasting period. The last week before Easter is the most important week for believers. On Sunday before Easter, Palm Sunday (Georgian bzoba) is celebrated. People usually go to the church and bring small willow-branches, which they keep for the year before another Palm Sunday. The willow-branches from the previous year are usually put to fire. As part of the secular celebrations people traditionally make bonfires on a Wednesday or Thursday night before Easter, which in Georgian is called “ჭიაკოკონა” (tchiakokona).

The night of my last post was the first new Georgian experience, related of course to the lead up to Easter since it was Holy Week. This was the night that I experienced Tchiakokona. It wasn’t the biggest deal in my family, but at around 8 o’clock, we went out to our back gate and lit a fire. Two host family members then proceeded to help the little host nephew jump over the fire three times, i.e. swinging their child over flames. Then each of them did it as well. So, hey, what the heck, I joined in the fun. Apparently, it’s good luck, and I’m guessing something like a cleansing of the spirit. Next, we lit another fire at the front gate, too. And, it looked like there was a bigger bonfire raging down the street where some of the school kids were hanging out.

The next day, April 1^st, I woke up to find that we had a new addition to the family. Gilotsavt! And it was no joke. In the middle of the night, my host sister-in-law was taken to the hospital in Telavi to have her baby, a baby girl named Mariami. Don’t worry there was no midwife in a hut with a knife under the bed. Georgia’s not that back roads. The baby wasn’t due for another week or two, and thus they missed out on living it up in Tbilisi where they were going to go the following Monday to have the baby in a Tbilisi hospital. The only downside was that mother and new baby were bound to stay in the hospital and they missed the following festivities.

Friday started the invasion of family members for Easter weekend, also when we’d be celebrating my host nephew’s birthday. They only continued coming on Saturday. I spent most of the day hanging out with the host family women, helping to prepare food (not that they trusted me with much) or washing dishes (more likely). That night, I went to my first church service, or at least part of it. Religious liturgy is held on Saturday night. A Georgian delegation to Jerusalem brings the holy fire to Sameba Cathedral in Tbilisi and then it is spread across Georgia. Several days starting from Easter Sunday greet each other saying the following phrase “ქრისტე აღსდგა” (kriste agsdga) to which the response is “ჭეშმარიტად” (tcheshmaritad) – “Christ had risen” and “Indeed” in English. Normally, the most devout Orthodox Christians go to church the night before Easter and stay at the church until late the next morning when a supra is laid out for breaking the fast. I went with two of my host family members around 11 o’clock and stayed for about an hour or an hour and a half….Only the strong survive since in Georgian churches, there are no pews.

It didn’t matter, though, because it was standing room only. In fact, the church was packed with people and many, many more were standing outside, around the church. Our group was standing just outside the entrance, still under some covering since there was a little rain. When the service started, it sounded like there was a litany of saints. There was a choir singing some songs. There was incense. Then they started brining the icons around. One larger than life size painting was brought out and carried around the church three times. By this time, we had backed out from our standing place and were just standing outside, where we had lit some candles. After walking around the church this time and saying hello to some friends, we decided to go home, where the rest of the family was watching the Georgian Patriarch on TV in Tbilisi. Then, around 1, it was time for bed.

The next day was a time of great celebration in the Nikolaishvili household since it was not only Easter but also the golden birthday of the four year old host nephew (turning four on April fourth – hence the golden birthday). That morning I experienced some of the important Easter traditions—cracking red eyes and eating Paska. Two important elements of Easter preparation are dying eggs red on Good Friday and baking Easter Bread, Paska. Eggs are smashed on Easter morning, and a candle is usually lit on the Paska during the first meal of Easter Sunday. Orthodox Easter eggs are dyed red on Good (Red) Friday to represent the blood of Christ, shed on the Cross, and the hard shell of the egg symbolized the sealed Tomb of Christ—the cracking of which (on Easter Sunday) symbolized his resurrection from the dead. So, we started off the day with a little of that, but the kids were running around with eggs in their hands all and smashing them against one another. See, the gig is that if you have a strong egg that breaks the other one, then you should keep it and test it against the future egg crackings. But, moving on, I again spent most of the day in the kitchen with the women, hanging out and helping out as much as possible. That is, until it was supra town. We had to set up different tables because we had so many people. There’s not much more to go into there, though. It was your typical supra—eating, toasting, drinking, and more eating, toasting, and drinking. Still, lots of fun.

Paska (Georgian Paska is most like the ones on the far left)

And Red Eggs!

Finally, for a little further tidbit of info on the Georgian celebration of Easter, another integral element for Easter is that the families go to the grave of their deceased ones and bring along the red eggs and Paska. In the regions of Georgian people usually go to the cemeteries on Easter Sunday, while in Tbilisi the first Monday after Easter. The tradition of bringing eggs and other food to the cemetery is much stronger in the regions. People in fact usually take big supras, wine included, and walk around the cemetery and drink a toast to the dead with every family they know. However, my family went on a little later in the week, and I didn’t participate because I was at school.

Well, there’s still more to get caught up on, but this post is already reaching epics proportions, so I’ll sign off for now, and actually come back with further updates in a couple days…hopefully. But there’s my Georgian Easter wrapped up in an eggshell, and then cracked.

P.S. Today is also "Love Day" in Georgia, which I'll talk about in my next post. So, while all you Americans are complaining about paying taxes, the Georgians are partying. I mean, really, when aren't they? Gilotsavt (congratulations)!

Downs and Ups

2010-03-31T09:52:00.004-04:00

So, again a long time in between posts, but hey I’m over here saving the world. Thus, I have excuses. I’m happy to say, though, that it’s been a productive month, so I can use that for my justification—instead of pure laziness. I’ve continued working with my counterparts, and our working relationships and work has been improving. And I’ll have to say a large part of that improvement is due to the trainings. Nothing like buying a counterpart’s effort through a nice hotel, good food, and access to Americans. It also doesn’t hurt when Georgians, as well as older, more experienced people, tell my counterparts the changes that need to be made. After all, I am just a shvili (child). But my counterparts both raved about the trainings (I recently attended a second one, to be discussed later). The result has been increased lesson planning (still not every class, but definite improvement), increased class time pour moi, and some new incentive programs to encourage the kids to learn.

Prior to my departure for the training last week, my school held a writing session for the Caucasus-wide Writing Olympics—a Peace Corps initiative that tries to get the kids in these countries to focus on creative writing. Creativity is kind of hard to come by sometimes in a post-Soviet country. They are more focused on having the right answer all the time. They also like memorizing things. This year, volunteers held the competitions in their various schools, and there were also some parties that went out West since no volunteers are stationed there yet. Tsinandali put up some proud numbers with 19 kids showing up to write essays after school. I was totally amazed with each and every student that decided to put forth the effort. I mean, hey, they could have some pretty awesome certificates coming their way. Did I mention Georgians LOVE any form of certificate? They’re like collectors items. Anyway, there were some frustrations because I had to try and stop my counterparts from feeding the students answers or grammar tips (slightly useless, since the essays are graded on creativity, not grammar). And I may have gotten about 10 essays from my 6^th graders about how many floors their ideal house will have, with beautiful yards, and various modestly arranged furniture. Still, I also received an essay from a 10^th grader which, through narrative and dialog, said that Socrates is better than a knife. That’s deep.

Writing Olympics

The day after Writing Olympics, the day on which I was leaving for training with my counterpart, did not prove so fruitful. In fact, it was one of those horrendous teaching days where you deplore the prohibition of corporal punishment…though it’s kind of still an option here. But I try to use words, not an open palm, to cut those 12 year olds down to size. Too bad they don’t understand much English…It was one of those days where I get the “pleasure” of teaching on my own since my counterpart was MIA. Needless to say, kids were shouting, jumping up from their seats, throwing papers, chasing one another, etc. I even gave up on English teaching half-way through and tried to go for a game of Heads Up, 7 Up. No dice. Luckily, the bell rang before I seriously harmed any children, though, and I was out for 5 days of bliss at the lovely Lake Bazaleti. Warm showers, food variety, coffee breaks, nice grounds to run on, gorgeous view, a bathroom just outside my bedroom. I didn’t hate it.

Our training, this time, was for project design and management. I kind of feel like I have a reputation for running away for trainings every other week. But, what can I say? Peace Corps must fill my empty head. Still, our time at the fabulous Bazaleti compound was really productive. I worked more with this particular counterpart than ever before. We got started on writing the grant for our English cabinet and resource center. My counterpart was scolded for not lesson planning with me (by other Georgians), and now she’s shown interest in doing so. I had some great discussions with fellow volunteers. I learned how to play nardi (backgammon), which is all the rage in Georgia. I actually won a game of Trivial Pursuit with an awesome partner. And I finally got back on the tennis court with some other volunteers—the first time I’ve played since high school. Also, I am relatively clean now due to a healthy dose of showers. Great success.

Some Random Dance Class Photos

I came back to site/school this week for a really hard half week (did I mention I love the amount of Georgian religious holidays?). And it was an amazing half week. First, some of my students gave me flowers, and it's warm and beautiful out. My counterpart was raving about the training. All of them talked about lesson planning at least once during the week. I had some genuine team-teaching and class time going on. And, despite my hatred for teaching without a Georgian counterpart, I took two 6^th form classes on this week for my counterpart who was going to Tbilisi for her daughter’s piano concert. This is usually a class that I don’t have. And they behaved like angels, relatively. They listened; they worked; they played well with others. It’s a lot easier to have control when you’re a precious commodity. Guess I better start making myself scarce in all my classes.

Now, it’s time for a little R and R because Orthodox Easter is here. Devout Georgians have been on fast since the beginning of the pre-Easter season. This week the fast intensified, and there have been church services all week. Tonight, there’ll be a bonfire in the yard to burn last year’s palms, I believe. Supra preparations will soon be in full swing, especially since there’s a host family birthday on Sunday. We’ll have guests, food, and wine galore. I’ll hopefully hit the blog with an update post-festivities. That is, once I’ve recovered.

With that, I’ll sign off.

P.S. If you want to help the Tsinandali English cabinet/resource effort, I’ll accept any books, magazines, CDs, DVDs, activity books, etc, sent my way. I’ll have some more eloquent begging once the project is underway, but I figured I could post a first attempt now. Thanks!

Russian Invasion: Part Deux?

2010-03-14T03:30:00.003-04:00

I'm not back with a full-on post--that would be way too productive. However, last night, I thought I was about to be coming home to the States, and not for good reasons. I was watching a movie with a visiting friend when a host family member barged in my room and informed us that Russia had invaded again. My family was freaking out and calling their relatives in the "affected" areas. And these relatives were, in turn, crying or trying to pack in order to get out. There was footage of tanks and bombs on the TV (coming Pirdapir -- i.e. live), an address by Obama and Biden, and, planes were supposedly flying towards Tbilisi (the capital), and, oh yeah, allegedly Saakashivili (the Georgian president) was dead. Despite some hints (we had not been informed by Peace Corps, the coverage was only on one channel, it was hard to believe that it would be happening again and now), it seemed too real. Luckily, nothing actually went down. It was all an imitation put on by one of the national channels. But people took it all too seriously. Maybe people ended up in hospitals, or worse. Here's an article to find out a little more...

Bogus TV Report of Russian Invasion Panics Georgia

Don't worry, the Peace Corps used this opportunity to remind us to always have our phones on hand (and charged) and to keep PC updated of our whereabouts at all times.

Oh, the things that happen in Georgia.

Updates Galore! Huzzah!

2010-03-09T10:40:00.007-05:00

So, I’m getting pretty bad about actually updating this here old blog. Maybe the Georgian mentality is gradually setting in. Help! The onset of laziness is apparent. Pretty soon, I’ll be refusing to walk around barefoot, be eating 12 carbs and consider it a complete meal, and have my marriage/baby clock ticking (a serious problem since I’ve been known to sit on cold concrete and ruin my fertility). But in all honesty, I’ve been running around in the past couple weeks, and have thus had little time to sit down and write an excruciatingly long post for my adoring fans to read. Well, here goes nothing…

My last week of February was filled with meetings and trainings. Thus, I have a legitimate excuse for being away from the blog. It took some leg-pulling to get one of my counterparts to actually attend our Education training. I had previously wrangled one of them to agree to coming. But then when I went to remind my counterpart about the training and give the necessary details, she informed me that she could no longer go. Said difficulty came from the fact that I was ripping these poor women away from their babies or young children; they couldn’t possibly spend a night or two away from the family. Nor could they leave the fathers to help care for the children along with the in-laws. It was a no-go. So, I had to call my Education Program Manager to help sort out the problem with my school director and three counterparts. Throughout the process, of course, it looked as if I had killed all three counterparts’ dogs…if they had dogs, that is. In other words, they weren’t too happy about the prospect of being forced to go to a nice hotel (with bathrooms and showers), get some free time away from the daily need of the family, and learn some new methods to improve their teaching. In the end, though, we worked out the agreement that one teacher would go the first day and the second would go on the second day, so that they could merely commute. This situation ending up changing, though, since one counterpart came the first day, actually enjoyed herself, and decided to stay for the second day of the training.

That was the drama leading up to training. In between my departure, though, and the start of training, I had our first SPA meeting, during which our committee approved the first grants written by volunteers. Changes are already happening in this great country o’ Sakartvelo. This meeting was also followed by a night for me in Tbilisi, with the requisite hang out time in cafes. Snaps for delicious American style coffee and a Caesar salad. Then came time for the Education training. On the first night, prior to the start of training, a group of volunteers got together to watch “Cool Runnings” in honor of the Olympics. I guess we could have watched the actual coverage on the Olympics, but it was covered in Russian—and clearly not as much fun as “Cool Runnings.”

Training included some workshops on team-teaching, classroom management, activity ideas, finding resources, starting projects, etc. Overall, I thought there were some great ideas to bring into class, and I’ve already tested a couple during lessons—some with success, some with failure. Also, the most beneficial thing was that the conference gave me a chance to talk to my counterpart about lesson planning or starting some new ideas in the classes we have together. And so far, a few changes have been in the works at school. Last week, I actually planned two lessons with this one counterpart, and she showed some openness to planning in the future. We also started an incentive program that will reward students based on homework completion. Hey, positive reinforcement, what? I guess we’ll see if it works better than merely yelling at the kids for not doing anything…

The past week or so since training, however, has been punctuated with some Georgian holidays. Thus, I’ll have to cement the new policies this week in order to make sure they continue. The first holiday came on March 3rd, which is Mothers’ Day in Georgia. On the previous day, there was a small concert in the teachers’ lounge, complete with text recitations, song, and dance. It was a short affair that took place during the seventh period. Then, on actual Mothers’ Day, I went into Telavi to hike in the woods with the Telavi volunteers, and we even made out way out to the life-changing Soviet statue at the edge of town. Of course, no Telavi trip is complete without a visit to our favorite restaurant there for some sausisi adjikit (sausage with spicy sauce). That same week, I had to head into Telavi again on Thursday in order to meet with an American consultant for the U.S. Embassy who is looking into how to best spend money to improve education here in Georgia. Thursday was also a fun time because I (along with every other volunteer) had to fill out my VRF (volunteer reporting form). It is the dreadful, yet necessary, form in which we must write down everything we've done during the past quarter--our activities, our successes, our failures, our community contacts, our future plans, etc. Sounds fun, no? But, luckily, it's done...until the next quarter.

Yesterday was also a holiday from school; it was International Women’s Day, an old hangover from Soviet times. Thus, another day off all for the honor of women. Of course, this means that the women in Georgia are just as likely to be working—looking after the children at home, making preparations for a supra, etc. In conversation with my host dad, I was talking about how we had Mothers’ Day and Fathers’ Day in May and June in America. He told me there’s no men’s or fathers’ day in Georgia because everyday is men’s day. I couldn’t necessarily disagree. But, I still appreciated this second day off since it gave me a three-day weekend. So, I got out of dodge by fleeing to a fellow volunteer’s new apartment (meaning new to him, old in years) in Marneuli. And here, several volunteers commenced quite the gluttonous weekend of food preparation and consumption. I’ll post some pictures hopefully, but our various meals included: glazed carrots with rice, peanut butter cookies, potato pancakes with applesauce, nachos, spinach salad, chocolate fondue, cinnamon roles, and the list goes on. Can’t resist a good break from Georgian food.

The weekend also gave me a chance to really see how much Georgian I know these days, despite still fumbling hopelessly at times. Marneuli is a mainly Azeri community. Thus, most of the transactions that go on—in the bazaar, in the shops—are done in Russian. My friend’s landlord is Azeri, and thus I could not really communicate with her since I’m lacking in the Azeri and Russian skills. It really just showed me how easy it is for me to get around with Georgian; it also showed me how much more I need to get working on that Russian. I’ve been writing down basic phrases and new words in a notebook, but I need to spend more time actually studying since Russian is slightly more universal than Georgian. So, I came away from the weekend with a few more useful phrases written down. Yesterday, I swung through Tbilisi, saw my former host dad at the marshutka station (since he’s now a driver for Didi Chailuri) and caught up with a few other Chailuri villagers, waited forever for my cold marshutka to leave, and finally arrived home. Also, I came away from the weekend—either from food we made, or food in Tbilisi, or food back at home—with a slight case of food poisoning. Well, I ate something bad to say the least, but nothing to worry about since I only needed one day to recover pretty much.

So, back to school tomorrow it is…for another two weeks until the next training. My own school attendance has been getting a little spotty it seems due to all my runnings about. But big plans are in the works. I’ll be running a Writing Olympics at my school (in conjunction with the international competition). Soon, I want to start writing a grant for an English cabinet (that’s the plan for now, anyways). And, I need to keep planning those lessons with any willing (and sometimes, unwilling) counterparts. I also am trying to keep up my running regime—and now I have one or two of my seventh graders as running partners (Teacher/student relations are so different here—especially for the young, American volunteer). Wish me luck!

P.S. Almost forgot to mention, since it happened a while ago, there's a new addition to the family! Don't worry about me family and friends; it's just my new nephew, Mason. Welcome to the world! We've already skyped, and he thinks I'm his favorite aunt. I saw it in his eyes.

The Marshutka Ride from Hell…Or So We Thought.

2010-02-16T08:19:00.005-05:00

Back again with a new post already. I know, pretty impressive. But it’s only due to the harrowing, and other not-so-harrowing, experiences that occurred in the mean time.

During this past weekend, I found myself in the west of Georgia for the first time! With some late notice, another volunteer had helped quickly organize an English language competition at the school of one of our trainers and one of our language teachers from pre-service training. These two Georgians are English teachers in the same city in Baghdati, in the region of Imereti. And starting in 2007, they had organized a district-wide English language competition, with the help of Peace Corps volunteers. However, the competition was prevented from occurring last year due to the absence of volunteers in country. So, I agreed to help out and bring the competition back into reality. And the whole experience began with the marshutka ride there.

On Friday, I skipped out from Tsinandali at 9 in the morning in order to get to Tbilisi by noon. This was no easy task since it was snowing, and the marshutka drivers’ motivation to drive their routes on time varies inversely with the amount of snow that falls. However, I caught a passing marsh and made my way in. After a quick stop at the new and improved Peace Corps office (no more hill to walk up either!), I hopped on the metro over to Didube marshutka station, where I was supposed to be meeting four other volunteers for travelling purposes. I showed up early, of course, and thus tried to find the Baghdati marsh with some directions from another volunteer. As I was walking towards the areas, there were several marshutkas on the street, and a driver stopped me to ask if I was going to Kutaisi (the big city just 30 minutes from Baghdati). I told him I was headed to Baghdati, and he said the marsh would take me there, despite it only saying Kutaisi on the front dash. I figured, what the hell, I can at least wait on this marsh, even if I don’t end up taking it. Another family got on in front. The driver came around to collect the fare, so I paid up (which I shouldn’t have done since it tied me down). And I waited for the other volunteers to show up.

I saw two of them walking down the street and called out to them. They were going to go look for the actual Baghdati marsh though, so I let them go. However, the driver—not one to let some paying customers get away—ran after them to bring them back and put them on his marshutka. About five minutes later, the last two members of our party showed up, and the marshutka was ready to set out for what was supposed to be our 3½ hour ride. Also, keep in mind that it’s chemi brali (my fault) that we all ended up on this marshutka.

The ride began without much excitement—head out of Tbilisi, pop in the iPod ear buds, watch the snow falling. At one point, we passed the IDP housing in central Georgia and a military base that was blown up in the 2008 August war. Finally, we passed through the tunnel that separates East and West. During the long trip, we were supposed to take a 20 minute break. This “short” break, though, turned into more of a 45 minute break, during which our driver and his 4 friends who were on the marsh disappeared. Hopefully, they weren’t imbibing, but who really knows. Still, we got back on the road to continue the journey.

Shortly after, the sound of police sirens buzzed in the background, and the red and blue lights flashed. The volunteer sitting next to me nudges me to look up front. While our marshutka is still in motion, the (alleged) driver switches places with the man sitting next to him (seemingly, the registered driver). The police officer comes up to the front door and inspection of licenses and license plates is underway. Now, there must be a little aside to state that Georgian cops don’t really do much when it comes to traffic laws. I’m not sure if there’s a speed limit, but Georgian drivers are pretty irregular in their driving habits. Two-lane highways are usually three-lane highways due to all the dangerous passing that goes on. So, having our marshutka get pulled over set off the first alarms. Still, the driver walks/drives about with a ticket, and that’s the end of it. Right?

Wrong. We continued driving, and at this time, it was starting to get dark. When we’re just 30 kilometers outside of Kutaisi, our marshutka pulls over again—of its own accord, this time. At first, the driver merely ran to the gas station across the way to fill up his water bottle. But then, the driver and his friend started to try and wave down other marshutkas going into Kutaisi. They succeeded and put the family in front of us—the only other party on the marshukta that isn’t affiliated with the driver—on another marshutka. Ok, no big deal. At this point, we’ve had some communication with our hosts in Baghdati, and they even talked to our driver to find out where we were. So, we thought we were getting back on the road. Nope. The marsthutka turned in the opposite direction, drove to an Aversi Pharmacy and the driver got out with another of his friends for 10 minutes. Suspicious. Or odd at the very least. Still, drivers tend to make personal stops all the time.

Pharmacy run done, the marshutka takes off again—this time in the right direction. We were driving down the road for a little bit when we see the cops behind us again. Now, Georgian police cars tend to have their lights on a lot, so they probably weren’t attempting to overtake us. But at this point, the marshutka turns down a side road and starts going out into more of a rural area. Bizarre. While we’re driving down this back road, it’s snowing. There are really any lights on anywhere. We start approaching a car that flashes its lights at us. Ok, this is the point where we are drugged and killed. Our organs will soon be harvested. Or, at the very least, we’ll be robbed and put out in the middle of nowhere. Well, this is what we were thinking at the time. So, one volunteer’s looking for a pocket knife while the other is phoning our safety and security director. There are five burly Georgians in our marshutka and 5 not-so-burley volunteers (2 guys, 3 girls). At this point, the Georgians even passed back a phone for one of us to talk on. There was a man on the other end, trying to speak in English, ask our names or where we wanted to go.

The panic soon ends, though. Our safety coordinator knows the villages we are passing and talks to the driver who says we’ll be in Baghdati soon. We’re taking a road that cuts around the city of Kutaisi. And we arrive in the center of Baghdati, our host waiting for us. Her husband shakes hands with the marsh driver. Apparently, we were scared for nothing. Sorry, these are not regular occurrences in America. But safe than out a kidney in the Georgian wilderness.

The rest of the weekend went off without a hitch. We had time to catch up with our education and language trainers. The competition was a great experience. Five schools in the area had sent about 20 kids each, after having a competition within their own school. The students had an hour to write a creative topic and then a five minute interview with one of the volunteers. We then graded everything, while the students made posters and the school handymen got acquainted with a little wine in the next room. And finally, we had the award ceremony, where the winners got some awesome prizes, and everybody came away with a certificate. The Georgians go crazy for certificates. Best of all, the kids were exciting to be participating, and I (and the other volunteers) actually felt really useful and needed, for once. Nothing like a little busy-ness to give you purpose. Of course, all was followed with the obligatory supra.

All in all, a great weekend. We were hoping to get snowed-in, but to no avail. So, I had the (what ended up being) four hour ride back to Tbilisi. A quick stop for Chinese food. And then the three hour ride back to Tsinandali. Yay, marshutka travel. And my two days back at school haven’t been without their upsides. I’ve been doing some grading, which at least makes me feel useful. Today, one of the guys who always hangs out at school (and sort of works as handyman there) and says hello to me actually said hello to me—in English. It’s always a nice surprise. My director, who was out due to her sick daughter, is finally back, so maybe some headway can get made on starting projects and/or grants. And, today I had to unfortunately teach my sixth form by myself since my counterpart had a death in the family. However, for once, they actually paid attention and let me teach. What? It could have been that a parent was in the back of the classroom….Still, I’ll take the victories when I can. Finally, I also gave a stunning rendition of “Oh, Susanna” for my ninth form today. I’m sure it was awe-inspiring.

Until the next crazy adventure…

I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For

2010-02-11T12:58:00.004-05:00

If I thought the education system (or at least its embodiment at my school) was slightly off-kilter (i.e. rampant truancy, unmotivated students, irregular scheduling, arbitrary grading, da ase shemdeg—and so on) when I showed up for the first day, circumstances have only deteriorated with the set-in of winter’s cold and the mid-year slump. Of course, the weeks surrounding winter vacation were barely attended by the students—to be expected, I suppose. But, we are already a month into the return to school, and problems persist. The problems are the reality here. Teachers are habituated to evaluating (i.e. grading) students only when they are reciting a text by heart or when they write an exam. This reality leads to a lack of grades (because no one has memorized the text and thus no one receives points) or very low grades (because the students don’t prepare for the exams and sometimes don’t find out they have one until they arrive at class that day). Student enthusiasm for completing homework (usually 2 or 3 students out of the class of 15 or 20) or for participating in class (again usually 2 or 3) is also flagging. And I know it’s my job to come in and enliven these kids or attempt to make some changes in the plodding orthodoxy that has set in, but sometimes it’s hard to combat Tradition.

It’s hard to convince teacher’s to create lesson plans when they’ve been getting along “just fine” without them for the past 10 years. It’s hard, without aforementioned lesson planning, to effect some real changes in the way classes are structured or ran. It’s hard to teach a class by myself when the teacher fails to show up or fails to inform me that she won’t be coming—especially when the students don’t exactly see me as an authority figure on the same level as my counterparts. It’s hard to stop students from cheating on tests (separating them in the classroom, confiscating books, refusing to give the answer to questions we have gone over several times) when the teacher returns and counteracts some or all of my efforts. It’s hard to teach a lesson when you show up to class, and there are literally zero students present. It’s hard to motivate students when they seem interested in nothing.

That’s one of the hardest issues—motivation. There’s no fear of failure since every students gets at least a passing grade despite missing most classes or doing no work for the classes they do attend. All that is left to threaten these students is a lower mark. So much for sticks. What about the carrots? I’ve tried talking to several of my classes about what their dreams are for the future. And even if I can’t get them to see the importance of the English language, it still astounds me that there isn’t some inner desire to do well. Different backgrounds, different people. I would be embarrassed to not have the correct answer for a teacher’s drilling questions or to fail to produce work class after class after class. No effect on my students. Maybe there’s no need for good grades or critical thinking when you will be spending your entire life in a rural Georgian village as a housewife or manual laborer (not that I am knocking those life choices) after getting married while in high school (I might not agree with that life choice). But growing up in an age where we have the world at our disposal (i.e. through the Internet), do they dream of nothing more than this sheltered life. I know many of my students dream of going to America or another foreign place, so maybe they have trouble making the connection as to what their education can do to get them there. I will just try my best to make them see that connection. What else can I do?

Appreciate the good in my time here—despite the monotony. Two weeks ago, my fifth graders had their post-New Years New Years concert/play. It was a spectacle including costume, traditional holiday and folk stories, songs in three languages (Georgian, Russian, English), dancing, and more. I definitely enjoyed seeing the students shine in their performance since they don’t always do so in English class. It’s good to keep perspective about the many talents that my students have. Then, last week, I attended my seventh grade’s quiz-bowl-like tournament. A battle of the wits and strengths. There were general knowledge questions, various matching problems, physical tests, and even a race to see who could eat two tangerines the fastest. Of course, all followed by a supra—luckily, sans the usual wine and vodka. Again, seeing the students get worked up and involved in the competition was great inspiration. If anything, the Georgian students love to compete (and sometimes get even a little to into it), but I’ll have to keep that in mind when thinking about ways to get them to learn English!

So, I’m in a bit of a slump as I’m approaching one-quarter of the way done with my service (in about a week!), but still looking for the silver lining in all that I do here—and still looking for ways to pull myself by the bootstraps. Oh, those good ole American values. Well, there’s an education training coming up at the end of February, which I wrangled one of my counterparts into attending. Hopefully, information from a third party will help us work together more effectively. This weekend I’m getting out of dodge to visit western Georgian—specifically Kutaisi and Baghdati—to help out with an English competition put on with the schools of some of our PST trainers. It will be a nice break from the monotony of village life. This trip will also provide me an opportunity to swing through Tbilisi to pick up some packages and check out the new office. Tbilisi visits always recharge the batteries, as do packages from home! In other good news, I successfully made an amazingly delicious apple pie from scratch last week, the unpaved roads aren’t as difficult to slosh through when the mud freezes, and nothing makes you feel amazingly clean like just coming out of your weekly (yes, it’s sad) shower to put on some clean clothes.

That’s all for now, folks. Sorry about the long delay between posts. The Georgian mindset is getting to me in some ways, as you can see. Motivation is dwindling. But, I promise to be more faithful in future. In the mean time, send me emails or Skype me up!

The Start of School?

2010-01-18T01:42:00.007-05:00

Well, after having about three and a half weeks off of “school,” not counting the two weeks before break in which almost no students attended, I showed up this morning at the school building. Hard life. I was running a little late, about 10 minutes, which I wasn’t too worried about since the bell usually rings late, and even then, students and teachers aren’t in class until a few minutes after the bell. However, there was no need for worry, seeing as the school was completely dark upon my arrival, and there were literally zero people inside. Maybe, it was my own fault. I have only myself to blame for actually getting up early to get back to school on the first “official” day. There was some confusion as to when school was really starting since tomorrow is the Georgian epiphany, and thus a day off. However, since my deputy director had told me the 18^th was the start date, I thought I would make the effort. Apparently, there will at least be no classes today, though some teachers and administrators will probably roll in a couple hours later. But, with my free hours until then, I have time to update the glorious blog.

I last left off with Georgian old Christmas and New Year approaching. And much like the unfulfilled buildup for new New Year, the holidays passed without much ado. For old Christmas on January 7^th, we had a couple relatives over. A supra was prepared, and we partook in the satchmeli (food) at midnight on Christmas Eve, when the religious would normally be breaking the fast from some meat and dairy products. Similar to Catholic Christmas, many Georgians go to church on Christmas Eve, but they stay for pretty much the whole night. However, since my family is not very religious, we merely watched the Georgian patriarch on TV in Tbilisi, lit some candles to say prayers or make wishes, and started the supra. I was not prepared for the late hours, so I turned in around 1:30. The next day, though, I heard the family had stayed up until 5:00, singing and dancing. In the morning, I did walk to church with some members of my family, but upon our arrival, we discovered that the church was closed! To mark the occasion, we walked around the church, lit candles, and partook in some wine and kada (a sweet bread/cake) before going back home.

Then, there was a week of rest until the next celebration of old New Year on January 14^th. Of course, being the productive member of society that I am, I was hard at work in my community…or just hanging out by the wood stove, reading books, studying Georgian, watching movies, knitting, and going for some cold runs outside. You can decide which one to believe. Anyways, old New Year brought a different set of host family relatives who came to feast with us. But, this holiday went out with even less of a bang. We didn’t even wait until midnight on New Year’s Eve to start the supra. In fact, I could hear and see the villagers’ fireworks going off just as I was getting ready to turn in. Thus, since the holidays were a little lackluster, I started preparing for a big blowout in Tsinandali with the Americans. Because I wasn’t able to celebrate my birthday with everyone on the actual day, I invited all the PCVs who were available over to my place for this past weekend. And, the American invasion took place with about 18 or 19 volunteers attending.

Of course, to entice the volunteers, I lured them in with promises of non-Georgian food. While my host family did prepare a couple of the traditional dishes, I was surprisingly able to get them from making a bunch of food that wouldn’t get eaten. However, three of my friends and I were hard at work for two days getting the “American” food prepared. That’s what happens when you have to make everything from scratch. To get all the products, I went to the bazaar with my host dad on Friday. He took me to all his salespeople who would give me a good deal, and the people who I can return to in future when I am alone and craving some different food. Three friends met me at the bazaar to help make purchases and carry things back on the marshutka. So, we had a whirlwind shopping spree, supplemented by imports from American or by some hard-to-find purchases that I had already made while previously in Tbilisi.

We arrived back home and immediately started cooking. On the “American” menu were tacos with homemade tortillas and all the toppings, homemade chips and salsa, refried beans, onion rings/chunks (since there are no big onions here), spinach salad with homemade ranch dressing, cookies, and brownies. These foods may or may not have been supplemented by some homemade Kahlua and Baileys as well. Us volunteers are learning how to make a lot with limited supplies. All these preparations took almost two full days, especially rolling out all that dough for the tortillas and chips. But, luckily, almost everything turned out a success, except for some rice that was ruined by too much water. Still, I, and I think most of the volunteers, were happy with all the food. At least, most of it disappeared quickly.

People started rolling in on Saturday around noon and kept arriving up until supra-time at six o’clock. Thus, it was great for people to relax and talk to each other after not seeing one another for a while. We chow-ed down on the food, had some lively conversation, started about 15 working committees, listened to periodic toasts from my host dad, and enjoyed peace, justice, and the American way. Some lucky volunteers got beds or futons that night, and some unlucky ones had floor space and sleeping bags. In the morning, though, there was promise of leftovers and breakfast burritos! Unfortunately, at the end of the weekend, it was back to life, back to reality, and the volunteers gradually trickled out into the rain to attempt to catch marshutkas home.

So, now it is maybe time to get back to school and, for me, time to start working on some school projects. I know my school is looking to develop an English cabinet with resources for students and teachers, so working on that grant will be first on my plate. But, I’ll be busy with some of my committee work, as well. Still, I’ll have to liven up things a little to keep the blog interesting, though sometimes just being in Georgia provides me with all the stories I need. Well, happy end to the holidays. I hope you’re all keeping safe and warm. Today was our first snow, though nothing’s accumulating on the ground. I’m still waiting for some good sledding and snowball-forming white stuff. Something has to validate my cold existence. We’ll see if that comes to pass.

Stay classy, America…and thanks for stopping by.

It's Still the Holiday Season

2010-01-06T07:26:00.006-05:00

After much delay and anticipation, I am finally back to the blog with my first 2010 post. Since my last post, so many things have happened. I’m a year older. Some holidays have already passed. And, I am now protected from the infamous swine flu – thanks to a vaccination courtesy of the American taxpayer. Despite all the hullabaloo of the past couple weeks, I’m still in the midst of holiday season in Georgia. For those of you who don’t know, there are both old and new Christmas, as well as old and new New Years in Georgia – thanks to the Georgian Orthodox calendar. This phenomenon also means extra long vacation. Yessss. Anyways, I’ll start off this post’s updates with the beginning of my holiday season – my birthday on Christmas Eve.

So, for the week leading up to my birthday, students were pretty much nonexistent in school. Yes, most teachers still continued to show up and go through the motions—ringing the bell just for posterity. However, there were maybe 50 kids in school that last Monday before break, and the numbers dwindled from there. Therefore, there was no problem holding a birthday supra at school in the middle of the day on Thursday. First, the teachers’ lounge was set up, including bringing in the keyboard for some necessary music. There was singing—including my amazing rendition of Jingle Bells. There was dancing—yes, I was put on display again. There were presents, including the joint present of a photo album from all the teachers and even a poem written for me. Of course, there was also food and drink, with the ultimate torti – birthday cake. Overall, a great experience and thankfully a little more low key than most Georgian supras. That night, I also had a small celebration at home and made some earth-shatteringly good pumpkin pie—that wasn’t the biggest hit with the host family—and some mediocre brownies—devoured by the host family. The birthday celebration still continues, though. Since I wasn’t able to have the Americans over during the holidays, the real Tsinandali supra will be occurring in about a week and a half. So, details on that to follow.

The next day--the American or “Catholic” Christmas, not really celebrated by Georgians—I headed out for the big city, Tbilisi, to catch a marshutka out to Kazbegi, a mountain in northern Georgia close to the Russian border and also the name of a Georgian beer brand. Of course, I had time to stop and grab your typical American Christmas meal of McDonalds with some friends…and then head off for the nature. Three hours later, after passing through the snow-covered mountains and ski resort area of Gudauri, our group of five arrived in Kazbegi, also known as Stepantsminda (Saint Stephen). The great Kazbegi was covered in clouds that night, but we did manage to get a great view at sunrise the next morning before heading off on our hike. We hiked up through part of the village and then onto a path through ice and snow to reach the Gergeti Monastery and get an amazing view. At the height of our climb, we looked really close to the summit of 1,740 m (5,709 ft). However, who can really tell. We were stopped from progressing further due to the snow, which also impeded our efforts to hike out to a glacier.

Still, the hike in itself was pretty incredible…and filled with drama. On the way down, a member of our party took a tumble. Luckily, a passing man—we think he was a monk from the monastery—stopped to help us, called an ambulance, and talked with one of our Peace Corps doctors. We safely got the injured volunteer to the guest house at which we were staying and had an ambulance from Tbilisi on the way. But then we also had to give statements to the local police—meaning they had to write out copies of statements for all of us to sign. This process took some time, and it was getting late into the night, i.e. eight o’clock. We hadn’t been to the store to pick up ingredients to make dinner and were told that all but one store at the top of the village were closed. So, of course, we received a police escort up to the store, and even a chocolate bar from our police driver. Did I mention Georgians are awesome in the hospitality department?

The day after the incident, the rest of our group went back to Tbilisi—complete with getting stuck in the snow once. Yet, this still wasn’t the end of the travels. I made a trip out with some other volunteers from my training cluster to visit our training host village and host families. After seeing some other families in the village, I headed toward my host family’s house to find myself in the midst of a pig slaughter. ‘Tis the season. Turns out I showed up the day that would end with a supra. I was able to pass some presents off to my family, reconnect with the family members, meet some new people, and supra, of course. Now, getting a marshutka back to Tsinandali from Didi Chailuri was no easy feat—meaning I had to wait at the side of the road for over an hour as car after car passed me by, until finally one marshutka for Telavi stopped to pick me up.

Finally, I found myself back at home in time for the beginning preparation for New Years (Akhal Tzels)! The cake-baking started two days before New Year’s Eve, and the remaining food prep was the next day. The celebration on New Year’s Eve consisted of eating, watching the NYE programming on TV, eating, watching TV, and even doing these things consecutively. Oh, there was also some drinking of champagne in there. We started the actual New Year’s supra at around 10 on New Year’s Eve and continued up until midnight. We had the traditional dishes of satsivi (turkey or chicken in walnut sauce) and gozinaki (walnuts baked in honey sauce). At midnight, I joined in with my host sister-in-law in writing a wish on a tiny piece of paper, burning it, and then putting it in my champagne. Supposedly, since I drank it down, my wish should come true. After the New Year had come, my host brother came into the house as our first footer (or mekvle), bringing sweets and cakes with sparklers. The first footer is the first guest of the year year, who can bring happiness or misery. Small fireworks were going off this whole time since they are quite accessible in Georgia to people of all ages. The next day, January 1^st, we hosted the village’s tamada (toastmaster) and celebrated that night setting off a firework of our own. My host dad also shot off his gun once, just for good measure.

The day after New Year’s, facing the boredom of nothing to do, I went on an excursion with some surrounding volunteers to Gremi—a nearby village which had a church and fortress. Definitely an enjoyable time, until we tried to get transportation out of this isolated area—meaning we waited around an hour and then started walking. Finally, we were able to flag down a taxi after our adventure. The second day of the year is “luck day” in Georgia and is supposed to signify how your year will go. It’s not looking too good…but I’m optimistic. It’s already looking up since I got a free trip into Tbilisi yesterday to get my swine flu vaccination. Then again, I also did get a birthday card from my parents while I was there, from which the money had been possibly swiped by former-KGB forces. Oh, Georgia. Still, there was good food and good conversation with friends. What more can you ask for? More Georgian holidays coming up? Yes.

Until next time…

P.S. New address as of January 15, 2010. Clearly, do not send me money.

PCV Cara Bragg

29A Vazha Pshavela Avenue

P.O. Box 66

Tbilisi, 0160

Georgia

More Reality in Georgia -- The Second Installment

2009-12-13T10:58:00.003-05:00

1. Easily impressing people with your Georgian language skills. It doesn’t take much more than a “Gamarjoba” and a “Rogor khar?” to impress the locals—at least on a first meeting. You immediately become a good girl who must marry a Georgian and stay here forever.

2. Being talked to in Russian constantly. Followed by the other person’s disappointment upon the realization that you don’t speak Russian. Then, surprise that you know Georgian, and finally frustration with the limitations of your Georgian. It’s a vicious cycle. But, I’m slowly starting my Russian studies, so watch out Russian speakers. I will soon know how to say hello.

3. Traditional Gender Roles. Help.

4. Hand washing clothes. It takes longer and requires more labor than using a machine. The clothes are never as clean in the end. You get blistering, dry hands from scrubbing and soap—not to mention stiff clothes from hang drying, especially now when clothes more freeze dry than hang dry.

5. Overcrowded marshutkas. Yes, 28 people can fit on an 18 person marshutka. Ratom ara? (Why not?) This also leads to the other phenomenon of sitting way to close to a large stranger who might have a ripe smell due to lack of bathing.

6. Georgian exclamations sneaking into my vernacular.

7. Way too much time spent playing Snake or Rapid Roll on my cell phone. Whenever there’s a free moment, but not enough time to actually do something productive (i.e., most times), the cell phone emerges, and the games begin.

8. Always guessing when to yell, “Gaacheret” (stop) on the marshutka to make sure it doesn’t pass your house but also doesn’t stop 100 yards in front of your road. Though, I’m starting to get the hang of it.

9. Drinking out of horns and/or bowls and/or conch shells?

10. Drinking. It might just be the national pastime.

11. “Tsota, tsota” (just a little) really means “Fill my glass to the brim, please,” or “Only three more helpings of food instead of four or five.”

12. Really bad Georgian television – and when I say Georgian, I mean Latin soap operas

13. Finding new Georgian friends on marshutka rides. And one meeting with a person means you are best friends for life.

14. De Facto Curfew. It is not okay to be a woman alone at night. Also, a lack of street lamps and real roads also enforce the curfew. Exceptions include Tbilisi weekends!

15. Georgian dancing. Yes, pretty much every boy and girl goes to dance class at least once in their life. And, I don’t hate it. My favorite part of festivals here is to see the young boys and girls perform the traditional, Georgian folk dances. They can also break these skills out at supras, in school hallways, or anytime deemed appropriate. And, now I’m attaining those skills too. Your next cocktail party with me as a guest will never be the same.

16. Cold. I’m sorry. These electric heaters and petchis (wood-burning stoves) really just don’t do the trick, unless you are sitting on top of them or in very close proximity. So, every room in the house and school end of freezing, unless you’re standing by the petchi. Conducive to getting things accomplished. Thus, my Peace Corps issued sleeping bag is my new best friend.

17. Student truancy. There are literally some kids in my classes that I have seen one time. Maybe. Or, even if they do come, most of the students are never on time. And for those who do show up only five minutes late, only about two or three kids actually do the homework and/or participate in class. Yet, failing them is not an option…

18. Firecracker season. So, now during almost every break at school, you can hear various series of loud pops going off. No, the school is not under attack, unless you count the antics of school kids. It’s the holiday season, and that means firecracker time. They will throw them at the building, at each other, in water, in the petchi. No one and no place is safe. And I’m lacking too much in authority because I think it’s kind of fun.

19. Missing the luxuries/conveniences of America. It’s inevitable.

20. My amazing friends and family. The packages and letters have been flowing recently. Thanks so much! I appreciate every scrap of mail I get it. And you will be repaid tenfold—either by me or karma.

A picture of some host family members with the new puppies.

Indauris Dro - Turkey Time

2009-12-04T03:47:00.007-05:00

Guilt has finally brought me in front of my computer screen again with a blank page to fill with the latest adventures in Georgia. The holiday season is always a time of guilt. You feel a little guilty from becoming a glutton at Thanksgiving (or for this year, two Thanksgiving celebrations—we’re in Georgia, so we need two). Your students should feel guilty for not doing the homework, or not listening to you (in English or Georgian), or not even showing up to class on a regular basis—but they do not. Then again, that last one is kind of an all year type of affair. You GUILT YOUR PARENTS INTO SENDING YOU PACKAGES TO GEORGIA SINCE YOUR BIRTHDAY AND CHRISTMAS ARE COMING UP (hint, hint). And, you feel guilty for not keeping family and friends updated via your blog. I must confess that I have fallen victim of this last statement, though I don’t feel too bad since I’m, you know, saving the world and such as a Peace Corps volunteer in a developing country (N.B. teaching English to Georgian students definitely qualifies as world-saving). With that small digression over, I’ll move on to describing these world-saving efforts.

So, I’ll pick up where the last post left off—with me glamorously jet-setting off to Bazaleti for a week of training. This “vacation” was pretty much the perfect break at a much needed time. First of all, we were put up in amazing accommodations (read: comfortable beds, food variety, and fairly consistent warm water showers). But honestly, our hotel was off the hook. This reality together with merely being with the other volunteers (yay, Americans!) made the week incredible. Training consisted of some language classes with some blasts from the past, a.k.a our language teachers from pre-service training. The second component of the week was safety and security, so we had a simulation of our evacuation plan, learned about mines and UXOs (unexploded ordnances) in Georgia (don’t worry, none really near me), and even got a little more face time with the new U.S. ambassador who talked about the American presence in Georgia and fielded questions. During the week, we also learned about various Peace Corps committees in Georgia and had an application process for each. I will be serving on two such committees—the Small Project Assistance committee and 50th Anniversary of Peace Corps committee. For the first, I will be working with other volunteers and staff to review small grant proposals from the PCVs and determining which ones should receive funding. And for the second, the committee will be planning activities to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the creation of Peace Corps, which will occur in 2011. Beefed-up resume, here I come.

The grounds of the hotel on Lake Bazaleti.

Those were the basics of the week of training, but obviously they all paled in comparison to our early celebration of Thanksgiving. The volunteers were granted access to the kitchen at the hotel in order to prepare side dishes, and the Butterballs turkeys were flown-in from America and prepared by the executive chef of the Radisson in Tbilisi, along with mashed potatoes, stuffing, and gravy. Many of us volunteers had to go shopping in the bazaars prior to training, and even then many improvisations were called for due to lack of supplies. Still, all together, we had pumpkin soup, dressing, glazed carrots, green beans, a pasta dish, cranberry sauce, pumpkin rum, and pies. I was on pie detail with several other volunteers, and we achieved pumpkin and apple pie from scratch. We’re talking pumpkin pie from an actual pumpkin. I know, impressive. Unfortunately, we had no pie pans, so we baked massive pies in these huge frying pans. It was a two day affair—first day, prepare the pumpkin puree; second day, everything else. On our first day, we were stalked in the kitchen by one of the hotel’s chefs. We were invading her space and obviously knew nothing about cooking. The second day, there was less supervision but it did take several hours. And mistakes were made. For example, we were working with some fresh spices, like ginger. So, we thought we had bought the ginger at the bazaar. We then peeled it and grated it down before adding the required amount to the pie. Turns out, we were later informed, it was not ginger but Jerusalem artichoke (which I didn’t even know existed). I’m no seasoned chef, but I would find it hard for the average person to tell the difference between these two. I’ll post some pictures to back me up. Still, the pies were a success—along with the rest of the dinner!

How bout them apples

My fellow pie chef-extraordinaires

What we were working with

The finished products

It can't be Thanksgiving without a Butterball.

Some happy volunteers as a result of aforementioned Butterballs and general deliciousness.

Pumpkin rum right from the pumpkin!

This amazing week was followed up with a Tbilisi weekend—we’re only allowed in once a month, so these are special times. They are special also because of the food available in the city. For example, during my maybe 30 hours in the city, I managed to eat Chinese, Thai, and Mexican food, and it was glorious. We also spent some time at an American-themed bar with live singing, called Buffalo Bills, which wasn’t too shabby, either. And this weekend, I actually explored a lot more of the city than usual. On Saturday, I wandered around with some other volunteers, and we gradually wound our way up to Sameba church. It’s the tallest church in Georgia and quite beautiful. While inside, there were about 5 brides that we could see, and it seems that weddings just go off one after another in this place. On the walk up there (it’s on a hill, of course), we also passed Misha’s (aka Saakashvili’s) house, which is pretty impressive but also about a block away from some ramshackle buildings that should not even be standing. Draw your own conclusions. The street that we walked on leading towards the church was also wedding dress row, apparently. There’s no getting away from the constant reminder that you must get married—as has been told to be about 4 times in the past week. Luckily, I’ve still got my wits about me and can deflect these questions/demands since I’m not too excited about getting married and serving my better half on hand and foot.

Another new find from this weekend, there is a beer wall. Some other volunteers and I were told about this phenomenon and asked if we wanted to go. Who says no to a beer wall—despite not knowing what it is? So, we made the walk down, which included scrambling down a hill when we really didn’t have to. Turns out the beer wall is out front of the Kazbegi brewery (which has not too high quality beer), and there are multiple windows where you can walk up (or drive up…) and get fresh, cold beer put in large jugs, etc. After arriving, it made sense why on the street leading up to it, people were selling big plastic jugs and cups. Nothing like enjoying some nice, cold, mediocre beer on a freezing night on the riverside. In addition to the beer wall, I also discovered Dry Bridge Market this weekend. This is a bazaar that’s near a bridge that just goes over a road, hence dry bridge, and where there are the traditional Georgian souvenirs, some incredible artwork, and—my favorite—old Soviet things. It was an experience just to walk around and see what’s for sale. I ended up purchasing some old Soviet medals, for who knows what since I don’t speak Russian, yet (I hope). Dry Bridge will definitely warrant some more visits in the future.

Sadly, all good things come to an end, as this Tbilisi weekend did when it was time to go back to site. Luckily, it wasn’t right back to school since the Monday after my week of training was a Georgian holiday, Giorgoba. As you might have guessed, this holiday celebrates St, George (Giorgi), and it’s also for people named Giorgi (a.k.a. about half the male population). There wasn’t too much hullabaloo at my home—just a small supra-esque gathering with one additional family member—but it was nice to have the day off. Turns out, the previous Friday had also been dasveneba (rest), so I only missed 4 days of school. So, on Tuesday it was back to work, which brought some good surprises. Number one—petchis (wood stoves) are up and running in the school. Thus, there’s a constant smoky smell, but also a little more warmth in the classrooms—still freezing cold in the hallways. Number two—some of my teachers have been giving me a little more teaching time in the classes and I’ve even lesson planned together with one teacher! Vast improvement, thanks to the meetings during my site visit. Number three—my English classes with the teachers are going really well. I have classes Tuesdays and Thursdays for differing levels. While my numbers are low, the teachers actually want to learn, always helpful. And, I think the groups will be growing soon. So, while I still feel ineffective at many times, there’s at least a little improvement.

In other news, Georgian and ballroom dance classes are continuing nicely. It’s a little ridiculous that I’m actually doing it, but it is enjoyable (and gets me out of the house). I even bought my first pair of practice dance shoes in Tbilisi. I’ve also been plodding along with my Georgian language lessons. I have been noticing some improvements in what I can understand and articulate, but my language experience is definitely still filled with more frustration than success, I would say. There are just so many differences and things to memorize. It’s not like French where there are –er, -ir, and –re verbs with a couple exceptions. There are patterns, but sometimes it seems like every verb conjugates slightly differently. And, I’m only working on simple tenses right now, plus the imperfect. My brain just hurts explaining it, not to mention speaking it all the time. Other exciting news involves the realization that I am out of the grace period on my loans. Yes, I can now defer them since I’m a PCV, but it’s just another reminder that they will be waiting for me on the other side of my service. Not a fun thought. And finally, some good developments, I celebrated meore (second) Thanksgiving this past weekend with 12 or so volunteers in Telavi. Andddd, I am now caught up on the new season of The Office, which is oh so important.

Meore Thanksgiving

We like heat.

Well, that’s all for now. I’ll try to be better at updating, but no promises. As I write this, I’m actually sans Internet, which doesn’t help matters. But, I’m sure with holiday season coming up, there’ll be plenty of anecdotes to share. Sadly, we have the almost freezing temps already (we’re talking 1 degree Celsius), but not the snow to show for it. Still, since I’m not in America to listen to all the annoying holiday music on TV and in every single store, I’ve definitely started the Christmas music playlist. I feel it in my fingers. I feel it in my toes (That’d be the Christmas spirit and the cold).

Goodbye. Nakhvamdis. Au Revoir. Dasvedanya. Auf Weidersein. Adios. Ciao.

P.S. A photo of me and the four Telavi volunteers with Ambassador Bass. And below some pictures of ginger and Jerusalem artichoke. You tell me the difference.

Updates

2009-11-14T02:57:00.010-05:00

And we’re back…Because it’s been a while since the last post, here’s an excruciatingly long one to satisfy even the most avid readers. I’m sitting down to write this after avoiding some khashi at breakfast—i.e. cow’s feet and stomach boiled down to become a milky soup served with garlic and preferably vodka. I’m adventurous but not that adventurous. There’s not really much way to pull it all together with one theme (at least, I don’t want to try), so we’ll go for a bulleted format this week.

1. The New U.S. Ambassador: So, we’ve had a new ambassador to Georgia (Ambassador Bass—say that 3 times fast) for maybe a month now, and of course, being the very important person that I am in Georgia, I had the chance to meet him yesterday! He was touring the countryside for the day and made a stop in Telavi, the closest city to me. So, I showed up, looking my most professional—even wore a blazer, and that’s how you know it’s important. The four volunteers from Telavi and I had a separate meeting with him (and his entourage) to talk about what we are doing in Georgia and to give him some of our impressions of the country and the people. I was the only education volunteer and villager, so I had to step it up and bring in visual aids—i.e. some banners decorated by my kids (read: students, not my actual children) at the summer camp I ran. These were works of art which such drawings/writings of “Georgia + America = <3”>

2. Site Visit: This past Tuesday was the first of my annual site visits, meaning that the Peace Corps Education Program Manager (i.e. my PC boss) came to observe a class and see how things were going at school. Of course, I was a tad nervous since occasionally I will not have the biggest role in class—sitting on the side lines until it’s time for review games. I’m the fun teacher that plays with the students. The lack of lesson planning that goes on was also a little worrying. So, I took the initiative to plan out something by myself and then talked it over with my counterpart (the Georgian teacher that I work with) before class. Everything went fairly well—some reading, comprehension question, grammar review, and a review game. Towards the end, things took a turn, since grading started to get done with input from the students. Anddd, to impress the guests, one of the boys in my class who is an amazing singer, dancer, and panduri player was made to get up and perform a song. I had to clarify that this does not happen every class. Afterwards, I met with the Peace Corps reps who were there, and then my counterpart teachers met with them separately to talk about challenges and successes. Overall, I received good feedback, and I think the site visit will serve as a catalyst to get some more regular lesson planning going on and more participation from me in the classroom. I’m off to training next week, but upon my return, we’ll see how it goes.

3. Teaching the Teachers: Another project I’m working on at my school is an English class for a lot of other teachers who expressed interest. At first, I was going to try to have one class a week, but then I was wrangled into having two—one for beginners and one for more advanced learners. So far, I’ve only had one class, though, because of conflicts. But I came into that class hoping to start at the beginning with alphabet review and going over some basic conversation phrases. However, this was the “advanced class” and thus moved onto things a lot quicker, and I was thrown off my game plan—struggling to lead my class with English and my limited Georgian. Yay. Hopefully, things will go a little smoother when I return.

4. It’s Cold: So, the temperatures have finally started dropping, and you can here all the Georgians saying, “Zamtari modis” (Winter is coming). The weather actually held out a lot longer here then back in my part of the States, but Kakheti is known as one of the warmer parts of Georgia. However, the cold is here, and I am equipped with a 0 degree sleeping and a space heater to combat it. Heaters aren’t so efficient, though, when the electricity is not working—which has happened several times already and is more likely to continue in the winter. Luckily, my host family has the glorious petchi (wood-burning stove) set up in the living, meaning I’m being even more social with the family these days. So, on those days when the electricity is out, I overheat myself by the petchi and run to jump into my sleeping bag, which is also covered with a comforter and a wool blanket. I’m able to keep warm during the night in this fashion, but when morning comes, it’s not exactly the most pleasant feeling to leave the cocoon of warmth to step into the sometimes icy air of my bedroom or put on my nicely chilled clothes. There’s no refuge at school either. In the winter, the school is supposed to be heated by petchis. I’m just not sure when my school thinks winter starts because no heat yet. Therefore, I’m always fashionable in class with several layers and my winter coat. Usually, at least on a sunny day, it’s warmer outside than in my school. On the bright side, when it gets really cold, classes cut from 45 to 35 minutes—meaning there’ll be probably about 20 minutes for teaching. So many accomplishments will be forthcoming in the winter; I can see it now. Oh, one further addendum, I also get yelled at now whenever I come out of the shower with wet hair. I'm putting myself in danger with each shower I take.

5. Another –oba: Clearly, in Georgia, you can celebrate anything by adding an –oba to the end of the word. In the previous post, I discussed Tbilisoba. One weekend ago was Telavoba, also know as Erekleoba, which celebrated the city of Telavi (and the villages in its district), which was also the home of King Erekle II. I went into the city to take part. However, getting to Telavi involved waitin 45 minutes on the side of the road as packed marshutka after packed marshutka passed me by. Finally, I got on a standing room only marsh and proceeded to play sardines with several Georgian men. Good times. Anyways, finally got into town and met up with the other volunteers who were there to witness some traditional singing, dancing, wrestling, and crafts. The main road had been shut down and fog was coming in from the mountains. Little kids dressed up in their traditional outfits paraded around in the street. Some of the children tried their hand at gambling. And there were men dressed up with animal headdresses running around with whips. I (and most of the other volunteers agreed) found this celebration more entertaining than Tbilisoba, to say the least. But, I’ll let the pictures and maybe video that I post do the talking.

Well, that’s all the time I have now. There’s more to add in future posts. For example, I’m taking Georgian dance lessons (and a couple ballroom classes thrown in there). They will maybe turn me into a Georgian yet, though I still don’t have the domestic skills. But I’m hoping to devote a whole blog post to the art of Georgian dance. Another update—my family now has a piglet and puppies! I’ve also taught a lot of classes solo recently, an adventure on its own. And, I’ve had a meeting with the first deputy of the Telavi district governor, all in Georgian, in which he was asking my recommendation on good teachers to tutor them in “modern English.” I learned about this meeting about one hour before it happened. Oh, the crazy things that happen in Georgia. Next week, I have school off! Actually, I’m missing school to go to language and safety and security training for a week in Bazaleti, a little bit out of Tbilisi. This site will also be the location of our early Thanksgiving dinner! I don’t hate it.

Men's Singing Group

Tchidaoba - Wrestling

Children on Parade

The Wares on Display

I know you are jealous of these guys.

Crowds and Erekle's Ramparts

Heathly Gambling Habits Start Young

Patriotism Wow.

Tsinandali Kids!

Dancing

Tbilisoba

2009-11-01T06:12:00.005-05:00

Mtkvari River

After a couple days when the Internet was down, a new post! Time to play a little catch up on life in Georgia. This post will mainly focus on my weekend which included my first overnight trip to Tbilisi and the celebration there of Tbilisoba. I’m pretty sure almost every PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) was there, and other people’s blogs already detailed some of the events of the weekend. So, for the PCVs’ relatives reading multiple blogs, you can skip over this one, but you’ll be sure to miss out on some amazing a digression, clever segues, and sharp wit. Just warning you. Old Town Tbilisi

For those new to the country of Georgia (it’s not just a state?) and to the Georgian language (Georgia has its own language?), holidays are usually created linguistically by adding -ობა (or -oba) to the end of a word. For example, Mariamoba is the day that celebrates the Virgin Mary, Alaverdoba celebrates the church of Alavderdi, and Tbilisoba…wait for it…celebrates the city of Tbilisi. We learned about this holiday during PST (pre-service training) in our language class. During Tbilisoba, we were told, people from the regions would bring in natural products to sell in the city at some big-style bazari (market), and this would be accompanied by traditional Georgian dance and song as well as some concerts of more modern music. Thus, since the PCVs get one weekend a month to come into Tbilisi, it was pretty obvious that we would all choose this one to make the trek.

Horse-Drawn Carriages and Music in Tbilisi

Prior to Tbilisoba, though, my weekend started with a trip to the city/town of Marneuli, an Azeri community where two volunteers lived, Jefferson and Ben. It so happened that both of these volunteers had their birthdays bookending this weekend, and as a result, it was birthday party time. About 10 to 15 volunteers showed up to commemorate the occasion, which with our small group, is about half our number. We see each other so rarely that it’s always great to have a bunch of people get together in one place. Have some American reminiscing and from time to time embarrasses ourselves in front of our Georgian hosts (wait, that happens almost everyday…). Our main host, Jefferson, had prepared a whole line-up of non-Georgian food for us to feast with, including blini wraps, hush puppies, fried crab balls, and quesadillas. You cannot really appreciate how wonderful it is to escape Georgian food when you have the same things everyday. Nothing makes you appreciate American “diversity” more—Chinese food, Indian food, Thai food, Mexican food, Italian food. Not that I’m not happy that the food is actually pretty good here and that I get a fair amount (read—more than I could ever want). Sometimes you just need a little variety. I will now prepare for PCVs in Africa and South America to throw shoes at me. Anyways, we all had a great time together, imbibed in some wine of course, and introduced the host family to what happens when you get a large group of Americans in a small apartment…

People!

Shemdeg (next) came Tbilisoba time. I traveled in on marshutka with a group of other volunteers. We had to drop our bags off somewhere because sleeping bags were required in Marneuli. This was actually a strange phenomenon since most Georgians have a million beds for all the guests they receive, but that changes when you move to apartments in the city. Fortunately, all us Georgian PCVs are equipped with cold weather sleeping bags—good for the winter, not so good for travel since they are amazingly large. So, those were dropped off and I had the chance to try a new find in the city, an American pizza place called Ronny’s—run by real, live Americans. This was followed by an adventure of trying to find the Tbilisoba activities. Most of the festivities were taking place in the Old Town area. However, we were a little bit disappointed with what was found. The main area of Tbilisoba consisted of some kiddie carnival rides and games, beer gardens, and the usual vendors selling souvenirs, toys, and of course the omnipresent churchkhela. Still, I was just happy to be in a city where there are people walking around. Oh boy, were there people. Prime people-watching opportunities.

Vendors Selling Only the Highest Quality Wares, Ra Tqma Unda (Of Course)

After some more walking around and a little gelato (it’s my one weekend in the city; therefore, indulgence is allowed), I went to a GPS-mapping party. Two RPCVs (returned Peace Corps volunteers—meaning they already completed service) are starting an NGO in Georgia with the goal of mapping Georgia with GPS technology and having the information available to the public for free. So, they were having this meeting to introduce the new volunteers to the technology and to their project. A group of us met and spent about an hour mapping a part of the city to learn how to use the technology, and this was followed up by some time in a bar/restaurant to see how the information is transferred from the tracking device to the computer. It was definitely interesting, but when it started to run on 3 hours, it was cutting into the only weekend in Tbilisi time. And, post-meeting, I still had to run and grab my baggage and move it to the hostel where I was staying with most of the volunteers. Then, it was time to hit the Tbilisi night-life. It was a great “cultural” experience.

Children Respecting the City's Monuments

For day two of Tbilisoba, I spent most of the time hanging out at the Peace Corps office looking for some new reading material and some educational resources to take back to Tsinandali. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to do much exploration of the day’s Tbilisoba festivities. From looking at some other volunteers’ photos though, it seems that there were more of the traditional song and dance performances. When passing through Tavisupleba Moedani (Freedom Square), I could see that they had a large stage set up where an orchestra was sitting for those who passed to listen to. I wish I could have stayed longer to check out these performances. However, I had to get back home since it was my host brother’s birthday and was, thus, supra time. The supra was relatively tame since the city folk would had come in to celebrate had to leave that night to get to work in the morning. Nothing like a party on a Sunday night, though.

Saakashvili's Residence in the Distance?

So, there’s a short description of my experience of Tbilisoba. In other news, I have given my first training! I was asked by an international NGO called IREX, in conjunction with another NGO called the Center for International Education, to hold a training on essay and CV writing at the university in Telavi. It was set up fairly quickly the previous week and I might have planned for it post-Tbilisi weekend with the presentation being on Monday. Also, I don’t know if I talked about it before, but right when I got to site, my computer was wiped and my host brother reloaded the programs, meaning my Microsoft Office Programs are in the default language of Russian. It doesn’t matter as much when I’m writing blogs, but attempting to make a Powerpoint is another matter. That was fun, considering I speak no Russian beyond a few words. Despite these challenges, the training went off well. It feels good to accomplish something when I’m facing some frustration in the classrooms. So, since I’m feeling slightly underutilized at school (and with my Peace Corps boss coming for a visit in a couple weeks!), I’ve taken the initiative to start afterschool English classes for some of the teachers. Several had asked me to teach them English. Now a sign-up sheet has been posted, and I’ll start next week. Wish me (and my Georgian skills) luck! After this is underway for a couple weeks, the plan is to then start an afterschool English club for the students. Fingers crossed (not that I’m becoming brainwashed by Georgian superstitions; if that were true, I’d stop sitting on concrete to protect my fertility).

More Old Town Tbilisi

Well, we’ve reached the end of another post. There’s a lot more to tell about day-to-day life--including dancing lessons. With that amazing teaser, though, I’ll sign off. Come back next week sheidzleba (maybe) for the next installment.

Peace, Love, and Dzaghles,

Cara

Two Months Down

2009-10-21T12:55:00.004-04:00

Today is officially two months from my swear-in ceremony, meaning that I am one-twelfth of the way done with my service. Don’t get me wrong, I really do enjoy being in Georgia. However, sometimes I need something of a countdown to get me through those days of teaching where I feel absolutely ineffective. And I’m not gonna lie, distance makes the heart grow fonder. I definitely appreciate being an American now that I’m living life in another country. Sometimes the nationality can be a burden—like everyone thinking that America is the best place on earth and that all Americans are rich. We are wealthy, in comparison, but from first-hand experience, I know we have our own share of poverty and problems back in the USA. That’s hard to convey, though. At the same time, it is nice to know that going to the States is still a dream held by many people, and I had the luck to be born there. Of course, there’s also the contingent in Georgia of those yearning for the communist days, but who can really blame them when the reality of many things—schools, electricity, jobs—was better then. It’s hard to defend the importance of political freedoms and civil liberties when I’ve never had to choose between those and making a living. In brief, I’m slightly anticipating a return stateside, a return to the good and bad of American life, where I don’t feel like I have to defend my nationality but can just express my myself without having to worry about whether I’m offending someone’s cultural sensitivities. On that note, I’ll move on to catching up on some backlogged quality only-in-Georgia anecdotes. Happy reading.

1. Teachers’ Excursion to Alaverdi: So, about two weeks ago, I had my first opportunity of experiencing the phenomenon of teacher excursions. In Georgian schools, the teachers usually plan outings every once in a while to go to a site in the surrounding area and let loose a little from the doldrums of everyday school/village life. Our first outing was to the church of Alaverdi. I’ve mentioned this church before since I visited it on the Georgian religious holiday of Mariamoba. At a height of about 55 meters, it’s the second highest religious building in Georgia, after the recently built Sameba cathedral in Tbilisi. When signing up for the excursion, I thought of it more as a cultural experience in the sense that I’d be visiting a historical/religious site in Georgia. But it was more of cultural experience in what came after visiting the church. The day started at 10 AM when we all were supposed to meet at the cultural club in our town center to get the marshutkas that had been reserved. Of course, everyone really didn’t show up until around 10:30. First cultural error of mine, I forgot to bring my own cup and plate for the supra we’d be holding later, so I had to bum the some eatery utensils off a fellow teacher.

Alaverdi

Once everyone had boarded the two marshutkas, one set off to buy some khatapuri, and my vehicle went to go pick up a sheep that was placed under our seat in the back. Yes, part of our future meal. Did I mention that Georgia is not for the faint of heart, vegetarians, or PETA supporters? After picking up Lambchops, we headed into Telavi (on the way to Alaverdi) and stopped at the bazaar for about a half hour to pick up more necessary supplies. Efficient use of time obviously abounded. Finally, we were heading out of Telavi, which I thought was our last stop before our destination. I thought wrong. We also had to stop at a butcher’s shop on the way to pick up some more fresh meat. One of the teachers actually bought some to take home, tied it in a bag, and put it in her purse. Yeah. Luckily, this was our real last pit stop, and we eventually reached the area right outside of the church and monastery of Alaverdi.

Mtsvadi Preparations - PETA Supporters Beware

There were a lot of people around since the three weeks around the time when we went was the holiday of Alaverdoba, celebrating this religious site. Various venders lined the streets, and temporary shelters or picnicking areas were set up for the pilgrims. Preparations for our supra was already underway upon our arrival. But first, we went to check out the church. The grounds are surrounded by great ramparts, and it seems that the church is just plopped down in the middle of vast fields with only the Caucasus Mountains in the background. Upon entering the church grounds, I had to wrap a skirt around my waist since I had worn pants that day. And many women were wearing head covering, though I don’t think it was absolutely required. Alaverdi was built in the 11th century and some originally frescos are still there today. But most of the walls were bare except for various icons placed around the church in front of which believers will light candles, kiss or touch the icon, and do the sign of the cross.

After about 20 minutes or so visiting the church, it was time to return to the supra, which would run for maybe 5 hours. Our party was mostly women (since mostly women work at schools), excepting one teacher’s husband and our two marshutka drivers. So, the teachers were free to let loose. Thus, massive quantities of food were prepared and the wine flowed. And, of course, there was the obligatory toast to me during the line-up. Cara Mastvalebelo Gaumarjos (cheers to teacher Cara). We also had two musical groups come in and play some songs in exchange for payment. I was forced to dance since I’m so talented at the art of Georgian dance. And at the end, one of our students who happened to be at Alaverdi came in to play the panduri for us, a traditional Georgian instrument. I swear all the kids here are so talented in song and dance. English is another matter…So, there’s my first excursion experience for you. The weekend was rounded out with a night in Telavi to celebrate a fellow volunteer’s birthday during which we ate peanut butter and chocolate cookies, watched Dodgeball, and had a breakfast of French toast and frittata. How’s that for juxtaposition.

The Panduri

2. Georgian Television: Here’s a quick side note on some Georgian TV that I’ve been exposed to. So, a big hit in Georgia are dubbed Latin American soap operas called serialis. It’s actually a little surprising since they are so contrary to Georgian conservatism. But I’m not gonna lie, I definitely watch one of the series, called Rebel Angels (it’s that good), with my family. One, it’s a lot easier to understand since let’s just say the acting has a lot of flamboyant body movement and gestures. Two, it’s all in the name of spending time with me family…My host mom and sister-in-law watch it religiously, and my host nephew does too since he’s up to the same hours as them. And my host brother makes fun of them for watching these ridiculous shows so seriously. But they must be doing well since there are probably 10 variations of this show imported from Mexico and Brazil, etc.

A favorite of mine is a show called Shua Qalaqshi, literally translated as in the middle of the city. But really, it’s the Georgian version of Friends. I’ve heard there’s even a Georgian show called Megobrebi (friends), but I haven’t seen it myself. Anyways, Shua Qalaqshi is actually pretty humorous from the things that I can understand, maybe about half. The one downfall—it’s on at the late time of 10 PM, meaning it runs to 11, which is so late for my Georgian lifestyle. Obviously, you can deduce from this bit of information that I am becoming old.

Quickly, some other TV mentions include Geostar (Georgian American Idol), a show called Tskheli Dzaghli (literally translated mean hot dog – which always makes me laugh), Russian television (always fun since I don’t understand a word), and finally a children’s show that I only caught a glimpse of. On the show, it seemed like they were brainwashing they children to be Georgian nationalists. I didn’t understand fully what was going on, but there were children sitting around a table dressed in camouflage. On the table was a map of Georgia which toy soldier troops standing on the borders. And at the end of the part that I watched, the children sang the national anthem. Draw your own conclusions. Oh, also, I’ve got America’s Funniest Videos dubbed-over. Physical comedy is universal.

3. My life as a (bad) translator: Another part of host family living that I’ve really enjoyed is the fact that we’ll have tourists come through and stay at my house from time to time. My host family is a member of a biological farming organization called Elkana, and through this connection they will have foreigners come and stay occasionally, sometimes just to have a place to crash but sometimes to be shown country living in Georgia. For example, when I was here on site visit, there was an Israeli couple who was coming to plan a trek they would be leading from Kazbegi down to Telavi. And since I’ve been settled in Tsinandali permanently, we’re had a freelance English journalist stay for a couple nights, a German couple, a tourist group of varying nationalities, and some Polish journalists for a company that imports Georgian wines. For the guests that have stayed overnight, I’ve been enlisted as a translator, with my limited Georgian skills. So, not only does it give me a chance to practice my Georgian, I also get to speak English (yay!) and meet people from parts of the world that I wouldn’t normally come into contact with. I’ve definitely been able to have some interesting conversations with this assortment of tourists who have come through. And even though my Georgian really isn’t quite up to par, it gives a boost to my confidence since I know a hell of a lot more Georgian than the people passing through. I’m looking forward to the next guests that pop in.

Now, I’ll bring this post to a close, since it’s getting on the long side. I was never one for concision. There’s a lot more to tell since almost everyday brings something new and/or ridiculous to relate. This past weekend, for example, I went hiking by myself a little in Tsinandali—basically walking up a dry riverbed—while listening to some NPR podcasts. And I also made a second attempt at baking American-style pizza from scratch for my host family, after hand washing my laundry that morning. Domestic life. However, since I’m too lazy to post more often, I have to choose the highlights—probably more interesting anyways. I could write volumes about my observations from working in a Georgian school, but that will have to be saved for another time. Thus, farewell for now. Over and out.

რთველი -- The Vintage

2009-10-14T09:05:00.005-04:00

Happy Mtskhetoba! Or Svetitskhovloba. Today’s a national Georgian holiday, and thus I have school off! I guess it makes up for the fact that I had school on Columbus Day. Maybe. Anyways, this day off gives me time to blog and delight the readers until they ooh and aah. If you’re interested in Mtskhetoba (a holiday that’s part religious and part political since it is celebrated in the old capital but where there is an important cathedral), you click here. If not, you can read on. And for the really devoted, you can do both.

Finally, the much-awaited blog about the grape harvest is here (don’t send me threatening emails if it’s boring).This harvest, or vintage, as the Georgians call it, is a very important time of year since Kakheti is THE wine region in Georgia. The region’s harvest occurs over the span of three or four weeks. As I’m writing this post, the big harvest weekend for my host family was two weeks ago, but the three weeks leading up that vineyards all around were busy. Whenever I’d be out on a main road, I could see massive, Soviet-style trucks passing by with the backs filled with grapes. And some of the volunteers even had school cancelled for some time since too many people were out picking grapes. I, alas, was not so lucky and had to actually do my job and help out on the weekends.

Over at my house, the place filled with family who were visiting to help out with the harvest but also because it was a family member’s birthday that weekend. Early on Saturday morning, we all awoke and had some necessary coffee while my host mom was preparing the picnic supplies since we would be at the vineyard all day. Then, it was time to pile way too many people into our various vehicles to head down to the vineyard (ვენახი), which is actually in the next village over since they are all bunched up next to each other. I may have already mentioned this, but each family’s vines are right next to each other, without any real separation. So, they just know where their grapes end and the neighbor’s grapes begin.

The harvesting was all by hand, so I was handed a bucket and some clippers and told to go at it. While the act of clipping the grapes from the vine is not too physically demanding, it can be back-breaking from being bent over all day (just try avoiding that’s what she said comments here). The work system that was set up involved most of the women and a couple of the men going about halfway down the vine, usually one or two people per vine, and working back to the edge where the truck was for collecting the grapes. When our buckets would fill, we’d yell out “ვედრები” (vedrebi – buckets), and the men who were staying out by the truck would bring us empty buckets and take our full ones back. Once we finished every row of grapes on one half, we went to the other half of the vineyard and starting working from there.

But, obviously, once the sun was high in the sky and the temps were starting to heat up, it was time to take a break and supra before picking again. At the end of our property, there’s a temporary-ish shelter set up where we set up a table to soon be piled with all the things we’d packed away for the picnic—complete with wine and mtsvadi (Georgian grilled meat). Post-lunch, not too much more harvesting went on. So, we headed home were my host sister-in-law had stayed home to unfortunately prepare the food for her own birthday supra since almost everyone else was in the fields that day. But our feasting hall, as I like to call it, was filled that night, and the spirits definitely flowed.

Day two of harvest weekend, everyone was up early again, despite the supra conditions from last night. And we headed out to the vineyard to finish picking the grapes. It was pretty much the same deal as the day before, so no need to describe. But, I definitely came home and passed out for about 5 hours. Also, I kind of missed out on the wine-making process. However, don’t worry; I didn’t miss any grape-stomping antics. While some people still do stomp grapes, my family uses more of a hand-crank system I believe. No one directly described the process to me…and I probably wouldn’t have understood that Georgian. But, from observation and a couple questions, it seems that they push the grapes through the hand-crank thing-a-ma-jig (and that’s technical language). The grape juice is then boiled. Finally, it all goes into big barrels or underground in big reserves (the room where they store all the wine is the first picture below). The liquid is allowed to rest and separate. The liquid which comes to the top is the wine, and at the bottom is chacha (homemade vodka of sorts). This chacha is then put through a distillation process where it is heated by fire, evaporated through a system of tubes, and then cooled in the tubes to come out about 80% alcohol after the first distillation process (see second picture below). I actually just saw that production process today, and my 3 year old host nephew kept running over to take some samples…

In our vineyard, we have at least two types of grapes from which we make wine. The first is called რქაწითელი (rqatziteli) and makes a white wine. The second is called საფერავი (saperavi) and makes a red wine. I can’t really tell the difference between all the various grapes, and I know we have more. However, these are the two of which I found out the names. Some of the wine’s been some very good, and some not so good. Here, I tend to prefer the red or shavi (black) wine, and many white table wines can border on nail polish remover…but never my own family’s stuff, obviously. However, when I’ve had to taste some of the bottled wines, they have all been amazing.

One final note to talk about when discussing the vintage is ჩურჩხელა (churchkhela). It’s the Kakheti region’s snickers, according to Kakhetians. I’ve described the “candy” previously. It’s either hazelnuts or walnuts covered in tatara (a grape juice pudding or porridge made from grape juice and flour which is heated on a stove and continually stirred until thick) which is then all allowed to harden. While I didn’t appreciate tatara the first time I tried it, I’ve acquired the taste now. Either due to the massive quantities of it I’m required to eat, or probably because it’s a lot better when you get it hot from the pot—especially because when you let it sit, it becomes a rubber-like substance. Yeah. But my host mom and sister-in-law have been cracking walnuts for weeks and putting them on strings. We actually just made some churchkhela today since we had some Polish journalists coming through to experience the Georgian rural life. But I think there are massive pots of tatara and strings of churchkhela in my future.

Now that I’ve got the grape harvest post under my belt, I’ll be able to continue updating on more of the daily antics that occur in my Georgian life. This statement is meant to entice you to keep reading. Some teasers to throw out there: my first experience on an excursion (i.e. field trip) with the school teachers, some interesting children television shows, and living life as a translator for the tourists who come and stay at my house.

Flashback-i

2009-10-09T07:48:00.008-04:00

So, since I'm slacking in the updating of the blog department, here's something to tide you over for a little more time. My blog on the grape harvest is in the works (or not started...), but I recently got ahold of some of the pictures that were taken at the swearing-in ceremony back in August. So, enjoy.

All the G9 Peace Corps Volunteers!

New PCVs and all the staff!

Our Georgian picture--since they don't like to smile often in pictures.

The photographer getting artsy. Also, nice shot of some jugs.

Georgian singers in traditional garb.

Our country director with the Georgian and U.S. flags in the background.

Singing the Georgian and American national anthems.

More Singing.

Representative from the Ministry of Education.

Representative from the U.S. Embassy.

Andrew, who spoke on behalf of the education volunteers--along with our country director, Rick, and PST training manager, Tengo.

The volunteer, Shawn, who spoke on behalf of the business volunteers.

Swearing-In. Now we were legit.

Now the traditional Georgian dancers. We thought they were amazing. According to some of the staff members, they were only so-so in comparison with the really professional dancing troupes.

Here was the dance were the men were fighting/dancing with daggers and shields. And of course frolicking in the air.

The woman's part of the dance involved a lot of twirling and looking pretty. And the guys had daggers.

Those are hats in their hands. Fashion forward.

And an obligatory reception post-ceremony. It wouldn't be Georgian without the food.

I'll be back with more ridiculous and/or meaningful Georgian anecdotes hopefully sometime next week. For now, I'll leave you with the Georgian word of the day: თავგადასავლებისმოყვარე (transliterated: tavgadasavlebismokvare), which means adventurous, or literally adventure-loving. Try saying that three times fast. Or, once. (P.S. This was the word I learned, but when I looked up adventurous in the dictionary, there were two other options about a third the size of this one. Great)

The Art of Georgian Bread-Baking

2009-10-01T08:53:00.011-04:00

What, you may ask, is a staple of every meal I’ve ever eaten in Georgian? Well, if you’re clever, you’d guess from the title that it is the ever-abundant პური (bread – pronounced Puri). You’ll see the multiplying loaves at breakfast, lunch, dinner, and accompanying any snack or ever comprising a snack in itself. What’s the perfect pairing with some pasta or some mashed potatoes? Why, bread, of course. This combination does not constitute too many carbohydrates (that does not exist in Georgia). But, there’s good reason for the ubiquitous nature of the almighty bread. One, it says good for a while—though gradually starts hardening, not surprisingly. Two, there’s lots of amazing sauces, jams, and honey fresh from the bees to accompany a hunk o’ bread. Three, it’s great for absorbing alcohol while supra-ing hard. And four, when the bread comes directly from the თონე (the traditional bread-baking stone oven – pronounced toe-nay), it’s pretty much the best thing you’ve ever tasted, excepting the homemade vodka, known as chacha, that is…

So, here’s a little behind-the-scenes look into the whole process. It all starts with the making of the dough. The ingredients include flour, a little salt, warm water, and some yeast all put together according to an ancient, secret Georgian recipe (meaning, I’ve never been around when they actually put the dough together and don’t really know how it’s done yet). Then, the dough is left to rise while the fire gets started. The tone (the transliteration for bread oven) is a hollow cylinder made of stone and is about waist high. Inside, you build up a fire and let it rage a little before helping it die down with some dirt placed on top of the embers. When the dough is ready, it’s formed into balls. The tone is then prepped by throwing some water around the inside, which pretty much immediately evaporates. Finally, it’s time to bake.

Fire in the Tone

Preparing the Dough

Depending on which kind of bread you want, you prepare the dough to be put on the insides of the tone. There are three common types of bread made in the tone. First is lavashi, which is sort of triangular shaped and long. Second is simple puri, which is a thicker bread that is more rectangular, blob-like. And finally, there is shoti, a longer bread that sort of is larger in the middle and narrows on the ends. For each of these varieties, the bread is flattened somewhat from the original ball of dough and then shaped into whichever kind you want. Finally, it’s sprinkled with some water and put directly on the insides of the smoking-hot tone, with your bare hands. Not for the faint of heart. Or those aspiring to be hand models.

Shaping the Puri

Putting the Lavashi on the Tone

Now Time for the Puri

More Bread. Why Not?

I’ve been around when the first two types of bread have been made at home. For the first, the lavashi is on there a shorter time, probably due the fact that it’s baked first, and thus at a hotter temperature. The puri is piled all around the insides, the tone is covered with slats of wood, and the bread bakes longer. When it’s time to remove the bread from the oven, my host mom breaks out some long, metal instruments that appear to be fire pokers or some form of medieval torture device, or both. However, they are actually just used to remove the bread stuck to the walls of the tone. The bread is put aside to cool or for me to enjoy, hot and fresh, complimented nicely with some cheese. And one piece is never enough, at least according to my family’s standards.

Wood Slats on the Tone. And My Host Nephew Enjoying Some Fresh Bread. While the Dog Looks on Longingly.

No, Not Torture Instruments.

The Yield.

And now...Tchame.

Thus, there is the secret to Georgian bread-baking. Feel free to build your own tone back in America, though I’ve no instructions how to go about doing that…yet. I’m gradually learning from my host family how to make all the Georgian traditional foods, and in other domestic news, just this past week, I introduced American style pizza to my family. Made from scratch, including the sauce. Though, I’ll admit I had help from my host sister-in-law to make the dough and for the arduous process of peeling tomatoes. It doesn’t take away from the accomplishment, I would say.

So, there’s the post for this week. To wrap up, I’ll relate a couple anecdotes from the past weeks. One, I’ve officially chosen the classes with which I will work and started “teaching.” It’s still a little crazy, though, with no real attendance policy or the strict attention paid to the bell that I’m more used to in American schools. Also, there’s a wide range of knowledge within one class, with some students being pretty advanced in English for their grade while others don’t know the alphabet. On a related note, I also “taught” one class by myself this week, which technically is not my job. And it was chaos. Enough said. Second, I had to go to Tbilisi last week to see a physical therapist for my life-threatening broken finger. Showed up and, despite having an appointment, the doctor had left the country the previous day. Yay—traveling 5 or 6 hours round trip in one day is fun. So, instead, on that day, I wandered around, got lost, and almost didn’t get home since I missed the last marshutka out to my area. Luckily, after some running around, I found a public taxi to take home. High point—finding peanut butter and buying a tiny jar for 4 lari. Three, it’s frickening cold, man. It’s been raining on and off recently—more on than off—and the temperature has been dropping like it’s nobody’s business. Though, I mourn the loss of a legitimately warm body temp, the silver lining is the snow that has now capped the Caucasus Mountains. Amazing. But this doesn’t entirely make up for the fact that my clothes will now freeze-dry on the line outside. Morcha (done) for now. Maybe next week an update on the grape harvest which is wrapping up this week? Stay tuned.

Tavisuplebas Moedani (Freedom Square). Tbilisi.

And finally, Snow! (Luckily, not in the valley yet)

Skola Itzkeba

2009-09-20T02:54:00.004-04:00

Much has happened since my last post since my ability to update is thwarted by my lack of internet, but I will do my best to pick out the highlights. Over the past two weeks, I’ve explored the nearby city of Telavi a bit more, been in to Tbilisi twice, gotten my residence card (yay I’m legit!), attended a fellow volunteer’s birthday supra, played host in Tsinandali, and most importantly, the school year has begun. My post will mainly focus on the first week of school, but I’ll start off with a little anecdote about one of my days to Tbilisi.

The day began with a hurried coffee and breakfast since it is ar sheidzleba (not allowed) to run off in the morning without proper feeding. Then I walked out to the road to attempt to get a marshutka by eight o’clock so that I could be at the Peace Corps office before eleven, when I would be leaving for a doctor’s appointment (my previously broken, now crooked finger continues to get me Tbilisi trip perks). While on the road, another woman from Tsinandali joined me, started up conversation, and said that we would catch the marshutka together. The first one comes and stops but there is really only one seat left. No problem. As my new Tsinandali friend announces to the marshutka that I am an American guest in Tsinandali, I cannot get left behind. So, I get the last seat in the back, and Dodo (yes, this is a legitimate, widespread name in Georgian) sits on her bazaar bag in the aisle way. Of course, this provokes the concern of the mother sitting next to me who doesn’t want her child’s legs crowded by Dodo, sitting in front of her. But complaints to the driver do not produce an effect.

So, the ride continues with occasional silence but also some conversation with me since now everyone on the marsh knows that I am the American who can also speak a little Georgian. Once we arrive at the big bazaar of Lilo (just inside Tbilisi but on the outskirts), there is a traffic jam. Therefore, all the people in the marsh get off and start heading up either towards the bazaar or maybe to walk further and catch a new form of transport. I was unsure of what to do, but I am assured by my new friend Dodo that the driver will take me a different route to Tbilisi. Nu geshinia (don’t be scared).

Thus, the driver and I set off to go past Rustavi (Soviet apartment city) and come into Tbilisi on that route. But the driver also decides to coast most of the way, turning off the engine until absolutely needed in an effort to save gas. And at this point I am not only panicking that I will be the next victim in some ax-murder-like situation but also that I will miss my appointment and have to come into Tbilisi a third day that week (sounds glamorous but also take about 5 hours round trip). However, I forge ahead fearless Peace Corps volunteer that I am and make small talk with the driver. At one point, he stops for gas—more delay. And he informs me that he’ll drop me off at a marshutka station that I’ve heard of, but never been to, and don’t know how to get to the office from there. Yet, being the nice Georgian that he is, the driver helps me out and instead points me to a metro station. So, I book it to the Peace Corps office, run up the stairs to medical, and find out that while I’m technically later than they told me to be there, I have five minutes to go on the Internet if I want. Lovely.

The doctor appointment takes place. More X-rays—I’ve had about 50 or so (exaggerated, if you didn’t guess). Once the bone heals, the radiation will help the cancer set in. But apparently, since I had an inter-phalangial fracture (aka at the joint), my body overcompensated and now there’s calcium buildup that limits the range of movement and made my finger crooked. Peace Corps battle scar…from hiking. So, I’m going to consult with a physical therapist and potentially get some finger exercises. Woo.

Anyways, the day continued with a quick lunch with other volunteers in town for medical reasons. Then, I set off to do a little exploring on my own. Under guidance from another volunteer, I took the metro to Tavisuplebas Moedani (Freedom Square) and started wandering in Old Town—unfortunately, sans camera. But it’s a great spot with cobblestone streets, various houses and buildings in close proximity to each. Churches, parks, outside bars/cafes, and hills, oh the hills. During my meandering, I caught sight of Kartlis Deda (Mother oF Kartli or Georgia), a big statue of a woman holding a sword to defend Georgia but also a bowl of wine to represent the hospitality of the Georgian people. I’ve heard rumor that this was actually set up by the Soviets, though. Requires investigation. Anyways, I caught sight of the monument from afar, and decided to weave my way towards it, not actually thinking I would summit the hill/cliff on which she stands. But, I kept weaving up through these tiny house-lined streets and eventually come to an opening with a church. Behind the church, stairs. So, I miraculously made it up to the top for a nice view of the city. After a couple breaths, though, it was time to head back home. Made it to the marshutka station, where I ran into one of my students from Didi Chailuri (Georgia is a small country), and I hopped on the first thing passing by Tsinandali. An end to an eventful day.

Old Town

Kartlis Deda

Now, after that “little” anecdote, some thoughts on my first week of real Georgian school. It all really started the Friday before school when I asked my counterpart when I should come in since lessons start at nine. She told me nine o’clock. Okay. I showed up about ten of nine, all dressed up since first day is a big deal. And children with their parents were milling about outside and inside. Nine o’clock rolls around and nothing real happens. I’m hanging out with my counterparts and students, but no bell, no sign that school is beginning. But finally around ten, everyone starts gathering on the steps outside school. At this point, music is coming from a music center. The school year starts with first the deputy director welcoming everyone and passing out awards to the best students from last year. Then, the director makes a speech, which involves introducing me to everyone in the crowd. Luckily, I got out of making any remarks, though I had a couple sentences prepared in Georgian because you never know.

Once the national anthem was played/sung, students and parents started streaming into school. Mayhem. I accompanied one of my counterparts into her class, since she is the head of the fifth form. There was general announcements, some class schedules, etc. Later, I went to one English “class,” but it involved me introducing myself to the students and then learning their names (a popular activity for much of the week). After that, learning was pretty much done. Students left. Many teachers left. I sort of hung around to see if anything was actually happening. Mais, non.

Day two rolled around. There actually appeared to be some structure. Bells were rung to start and stop classes—but not on time. And students start heading back when the bells ring; they aren’t already in class. So, teachers wait even longer in the lounge to head to class. Sometimes students show. Sometimes they don’t. I really have no idea of class rosters at this point, but when the classroom is empty, you know that someone who’s supposed to be there is not. While I’m technically supposed to be observing this week, I did have a pretty active role in my lessons. Students have to buy their own book in Georgian public schools, so in the first week, students are still learning which books to buy. Many students also don’t have enough money to buy their books in one go. So, who knows when every student in a lesson will be equipped with a book. Maybe never. Thus, since there were not structure lessons taking place, many English classes involved me introducing myself, or talking to students, or coming up with review games to play. Therefore, I’m pretty popular with the students at the moment. One, I get points for being American, i.e. different. Two, I get points for being the teacher that comes in and plays. We’ll see how long the popularity lasts.

Another difference between American and Georgian schooling is that the schedule of classes is still not set. Yes, the times of lessons do not change, but which classes are at which times and in which rooms is still a mystery to me and the teachers. I’ve asked for my counterparts’ schedules about 3 times over the last week, and they have been different each time. Thus, while I’m starting “teaching” next week, I still haven’t picked my classes or really know if the schedule is even set.

More observations from the first week include the fact that it is really bizarre to be a teacher and in the teacher’s lounge. Never thought I’d be there, or in Georgia, for that matter. All of my fellow teachers—overwhelmingly women—are extremely nice. I believe there are around 50 of them. Some of them will attempt to talk to me with my limited Georgian, while I think some of the other teachers don’t even realize I speak Georgian. When there’s a crowd of teachers in the lounge with conversation flying, I can’t really give any input with my stunted language skills (And Georgian conversation goes at the speed of light, and often with raised voices. I’ve even been witness to some heated arguments among teachers and/or directors). But, when there’s a small group in the room, I’ll be talking to one teacher, and someone else will say “She knows Georgian?” I attempt to make low expectations, and then they are impressed with any Georgian skills I have. Of course, the conversations usually start with how I know Georgian, where I studied it, and then the fact that I should get married in Georgian. Don’t I like Georgian boys?

Waiting for the Opening Assembly

Stampede Into School

So, there are some highlights from the first week of teaching. While there have been ups and downs and frustrations, I’ve enjoyed myself and am looking forward to see what’s coming next. I’m sure it’s nothing I will expect. But coming up in the blog, you can expect some posts on the art of Georgian bread-making as well as the grape-harvesting process which just started yesterday for my family. I finally harvested my first grapes yesterday, but more details will come later when I have time to devote a full post and have internet. Akhla, sul es aris (That’s all for now, folks. Though, I actually don’t know how to say folks).

On This Edition of Cribs: Tsinandali

2009-09-07T03:09:00.005-04:00

Hiking in Lagodekhi

Waterfall in Lagodekhi

View from My Bedroom

Home Sweet Home

View from the Gate down to the House

100 Year Old Grape Vine in Yard

Sign on my Family's Gate (Tsinandali's Eden)

Aloverdi - Tallest Church in Georgia (Except the new one in Tbilisi)

The Grapes

Family Vineyard

So, this post will mainly be an account of my first two weeks at my permanent site of Tsinandali, but we’ll start things off with a description of my swearing-in ceremony, as promised in previous posts.

The day of swearing in began with me packing all my bags, saying goodbye to my PST host family, and loading everything onto a marshutka to go into Sagarejo. I also bid adieu to my mortal enemy on my road in Didi Chailuri—the alpha turkey. At the ceremony were supposed to be representatives from our old host family, new host family, and school/organization. However, my old host family couldn’t make it, so I at least avoided that awkward situation of maneuvering between my past and future families. But don’t worry, awkwardness continues on in Sakartvelo wherever we volunteers go. Speaking a little of the language mitigates this phenomenon but does not eliminate it.

The swearing-in took place in a big hall at a restaurant in Sagarejo which was decorated to the nines with traditional Georgian clothing and kitsch. It opened with speeches by the Peace Corps country director, representatives from the Ministry of Economics and the Ministry of Education, as well as two volunteers who read speeches in Georgian and English. I don’t quite remember the order of everything, but at one point, about half the volunteers sang the American and Georgian national anthems. I lent my beautiful singing voice to this effort…luckily, the music was loud enough to compensate. But, now I sort of know the Georgian national anthem and can break it out at appropriate times—supras, parties, job interviews, and the like.

The important part of the ceremony came when all the trainees read the same oath that the president makes when swearing-in, and we officially became volunteers. And you probably thought we already were. You would be wrong. After this momentous occasion, which means I have to defend the constitution from domestic and foreign enemies/don’t make the US government look bad, we were privileged to witness some amazing Georgian traditional dance—complete with daggers and shields. And bookending the ceremony was a quintet of Georgian singers. With swearing-in complete, there was a reception with, of course, more food and a chance to say good-bye to staff and volunteers before making the journeying to permanent site. Ok, two years of service starts…now.

On to life in Tsinandali. I live in an idyllic oasis a couple of houses back from the main highway road that goes to Telavi and cuts the village in half. I half a bright blue room on the back of the house (yay privacy!) that has a view of the lamazi ezo (beautiful yard) and the tips of the Caucasus mountains in the background. The yard is home to three dogs, two cows, a wide variety of flowers, and a 100 year old grape vine. Also included with the house are a proper supra/feasting room, a TV with sometimes working BBC World News, a real toilet, and some form of shower (still not the best water pressure). Therefore, I can’t complain since reading this might make some volunteers out in the bush in Africa cringe with how easy I’ve got it. At one time, I had internet actually in my bedroom, but alas it is broken indefinitely. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away (including my computer, which had to be wiped clean of everything including my music :( and now has the Russian version of Microsoft Office).

My immediate host family is comprised of 5 members—father, mother, older brother, sister-in-law, and nephew. However, we’ve frequently had visitors, including a second brother, his wife and two children. During my three day site visit and my first two weeks, my family has welcomed me, cooked my meals, helped me wash my clothes (first by hand, then in an old Soviet style washing machine), shown me the vineyard, taken me to church on Mariamoba (religious and Georgian holiday), taught me how to properly peel a tomato, shown me how they make fresh bread on the tone (traditional stone oven-thingy), told me to invite every person I know over to the house, and yelled at me for never eating enough. I’ve also been beaten up several times by my three year old host nephew—half the time, he loves me since I play with him; the other half, I am sure he is saying bad things about me in Georgian, drawing on my walls, throwing my belongings down in the cellar, or kicking me in the shin. But, I will overcome this foe, as I did the nemesis of the turkey. My current plan of attack is running towards his mother when he is on the prowl, so she can discipline him the way I can’t.

With regards to the Tsinandali outside my homestead, I’ve met the three English counterparts from my school. They may or may not have taught me some bad words in Georgian, but also shown me how to elicit cheat sheets from students in Georgian. Also during my time at school, I’ve starting meeting various others teachers who are way to easily impressed with my limited Georgian. Some of my other time before the start of school on September 14th has been spent attempting to plan and run a short summer camp to get to know some of the village children. The camp was supposed to start last Monday, but really started on Wednesday. Thus, since it was five days long, it ran until Sunday. There was an Olympics sort of day with relays and capture the flag, friendship bracelet-making, jumping rope, the introduction of the Frisbee, and the passing on of such games as Red Light, Green Light; Duck, Duck, Goose; Simon Says; and more. The last two days being the weekend, I ran the camp without the help of my English counterparts—aka without the help of Georgian translators. So, either my miming or my Georgian is improving.

I’ve also distinguished myself in Tsinandali since I am now the weird American who runs on the streets. Something had to be done to compensate for all the delicious Georgian dishes that are constantly put on my plate, and the only thing I could do was start running in the morning. However, in Georgian, at least in the villages, very few people exercise outside of playing sports. Thus, I attract some (i.e. a lot) of stares when I run by someone in the street. Furthermore, once my counterparts heard about me running in the morning down at the soccer field, they started sending their children and their children’s friends down to come and exercise with me. So, I now run for about 20 minutes and play games for 40 minutes with the bavshvebi.

One final highlight from the first two weeks—other than hanging out a little in the nearby cities of Telavi and Gurjani—was my weekend trip to Lagodekhi. One volunteer lives out there, and I went with four other volunteers to visit and enjoy the nature. Lagodekhi is at the foot of the mountains, and the weekend included a four hour hike, with the culmination being an amazingly refreshing waterfall. We were also invited to have some vodka and mtzvadi (grilled meat) with some Georgians out by the waterfall, but we figured walking along the edge of steep cliffs was not a good mix with alcohol. Crazy Americans.

Life in Didi Chailuri - Short Film

2009-08-22T16:10:00.003-04:00

And one more quick post today...Clearly I'm gorging myself on the real internet access. A great short film shot of my village by one of my clustermates. Great work.

Life in Didi Chailuri

Nakhvamdis (Goodbye) Didi Chailuri

2009-08-22T11:46:00.011-04:00

Two Infamous Bavshvebi in Chailuri

Didi Chailuri's Cutest Child Award Winner.

Barf is culturally appropriate in Georgian when doing laundry.

Working on those beans.

Birzha (unfortunately no shot of the birzha squat).

Krisanne (PCV) blowing out the candles on the cake made by her host family.

Mtsvadi at Birthday Supra.

Mustache Competitors at Farewell Dinner.

Jessica's (PCV) Host Sister

Great Success.

Amerikuli Satchmeli.

Mortal Enemy. And Thanksgiving Dinner.

Chailuri's Playground?

Swimming in the Mighty Chailuri.

Summer Camp - Hiking Cliffside.

Summer Camp - Macaroni Art.

Summer Camp - Duck, Duck, Goose.

Summer Camp - Hike Day - Top of the mountain.

Summer camp - hiking.

A Chailuri Local.

Site Placement Day.

Site Placement - before we started finding out our sites.

Fighting Over the Bouquet at a Georgian Wedding.

Crowd at the Wedding Supra.

Bride and Groom Dancing.

And Everyone Dancing.

Georgian wedding = big supra time.

My excited students. Yes, I am that good.

Some of Didi Chailuri's bavshvebi, a little too excited to be at summer school.

My clustermates and our Georgian counterparts at summer school.

My PST host sister on the left with one of her friends.

More host family - Shucking Beans.

This is Reality in Georgia.

2009-08-22T11:12:00.001-04:00

So, it has been a long time since I last posted in my efforts to build your anticipation for each eloquent update or due to my laziness in writing or my infrequent access to internet. However, now one of those excuses will be eliminated since I have finally moved to my permanent site of Tsinandali, discussed in the last post, and discovered that I have internet at home. Therefore, all my readers who have been starving for information might actually get some more frequent Georgian tidbits.

Now, if I were to recount everything that has occurred in the past three weeks since the last post, I would probably bore you with the minutiae or inevitably have to invent some stories since I don’t remember everything that went down in Chai-town (Didi Chailuri). There was more of the usual—Georgian lessons for 4 hours a day, playing with the bavshvebi (children), hanging out at the local maghazia (shop), being constantly told to eat more food, having important “meetings” with fellow volunteers down by the mighty (read trickle) Chailuri river, and supra-ing it up khandakhan (from time to time). However, there were also some new experiences—running a summer camp for the village kids, visiting the massive bazari of Lilo near Tbilisi, having a farewell cultural dinner, and getting sworn in officially as a volunteer! That last one I’ll go into more detail with an additional post.

But for now, I will start a potential series of posts with a listing of “realities in Georgia.” These are a list of things that are usual or normal in Georgia—at least in my experience. First of disclaimer—some of these “realities” are stereotypes and do not hold for all Georgians, so take the comments with some humor and a grain of salt. Here we go.

1. Children driving cars down the village hill (actually more like starting the car to get it rolling and then turning it off to coast down the hill). Of course, this is not unlike farm kids in the US.

2. “We have not such luxuries in Georgia.” – A response from a Georgian when there was mention of movies, but also applies to many aspects of American amenities.

3. Turkey attacks – Yes, there are some rather large, dominant turkeys that lived on my road, and more than once was I forced to wield a long stick in order to protect myself. I may have also had to be saved by a neighbor at one point…Lesson learned: speak softly and carry a big stick applies both to politics and arming yourself against farm animals.

4. Constant awkwardness. Yes, it is inevitable when you enter a village where you know no one and barely speak their language.

5. Pretending you understand. Smile and nod is a way of life here sometimes. But it can also get you into trouble when you agree to marry a Georgian.

6. Constant encouragement to marry a Georgian.

7. Birzha and the birzha-squat. This requires a little explanation. A birzha is typically a group of men that stand around (or squat), deep in conversation, playing cards, or just watching the people pass. There can also be women birzhas or child birzhas, though they are less ubiquitous. And the birzha squat is a way of—for lack of a better word—squatting that most Georgians use if they don’t have a chair or bench. You can ask for demonstrations when I am stateside, but don’t expect much because this squat is acquired from birth.

8. Injuries and illness—at least in our group of mokhalise (volunteers). For me, broken fingers. :)

9. Saying things 3 times. Favorites include: Tchame, Tchame, Tchame. Dalie, Dalie, Dalie. (eat, eat,eat; drink, drink, drink).

10. Animal droppings.

11. Georgian hospitality.

12. Constant/concerned scrutiny (but from a loving place) over everything you do in life. To understate it, Georgians are curious. And when you don’t speak the language well, your actions speak very loudly.

13. Us volunteers being easily satisfied after living in the villages for 9 weeks—i.e. by hot showers.

14. Living by the “gaachina” code. Gaachnia means “it depends” in Georgian and is a great way to answer questions, especially since sometimes it’s hard to boil down every American into one stereotype.

15. The dative case. So, this is a little hard to explain, but in Georgian, there are cases. This means that depending on what verbs you use or how you word a sentence, the way the nouns in the sentence are said/spelled changes. Yeah, it’s fun. However, sometimes the dative form of a word is fun to say. For example, dzghals. Ok, this one might be lost in translation.

16. Your music not being appreciated and soon being replaced by Georgian/Russian techno played on a cell phone (and yes, every Georgian has a better cell phone than the volunteers—though at least we have them at all!).
17. Man-childs. Another Georgian phenomenon in which 16 year olds look like they are 25. Also happens with female Georgians.

18. Being blessed on the way to school. As soon as you pass a bebia (grandmother) in the street and say “Gamarjoba. Rogora khar?” (Hello, how are you?), you will almost immediately be called a “kargi/kai gogo/bitchi” (good girl/boy) and be blessed.

19. The stare-down. This reality happens more upon entering a village for the first time and not knowing anyone. Most of the Georgians would not initiate a hello but rather just stare at us. Now, you could respond by just staring back; hence, the stare-down. However, upon saying hello to a Georgian, he or she would probably try to strike up a long, friendly conversation.

20. Chacha (very strong alcohol made from grapes) as the cure for all evils (including broken bones and the flu).

Chemi Akhali Sakhli Tsinandalshi (Say That 3 Times Fast)

2009-08-04T04:02:00.001-04:00

Since I am in Tbilisi today to get my hand x-rayed again, I have the opportunity to put up a new post to entertain my adoring fans. According to the docs, my finger is not broken, but there’s still a lot of guidelines that the Peace Corps has to follow to make sure they’re not paying out my health benefits post-service when I claim mental distress due to my crooked finger. So in all, the long fall that I took of about 3 feet has resulted in various doctor visits and trips to Tbilisi. But if an almost broken finger gets you out of language class for a day and into the big city, there might be a new phenomenon of “broken” fingers in the future of the G9 volunteers.

Now, on to some real news. As some of you may know, I finally found out my permanent site for the next two years. I will be in the lovely, vineyard-filled village of Tsinandali, located in the beautiful Kakheti region. This is how it all went down. Last Monday, at a hub day (when all the volunteers gather for info sessions, etc), all the trainees stood around a map of the two regions of Georgia where we could potentially be placed—Kakheti and Kvemo Kartli. We all received an envelope with another trainee’s placement. Someone started the process by flipping their envelope and reading out where that volunteer would be living. Then, the trainee who had just learned of their placement would flip their envelope to call the next person. And so on.

Et voilà, I am in Tsinandali—population 3,800 and known for its Chavchavadze museum/presidential residence, deep history of wine, and some breathtaking views of the Caucasus Mountains. My village is also located about 10 minutes from the big city of Telavi, so I’ll be close to all that the city has to offer—Internet cafes, English teaching resources, and maybe even some real stores. Yay, civilization.

As I mentioned in my previous post, hub day was followed by a day trip to Tbilisi during which I toured the Peace Corps office, ate Italian food (!), walked down Rustaveli, and was able to see that not all hospitals in Georgia are as scary as the one I experienced out in the regions, in Sagarejo. After the glamorous trip to the capital, us trainees were swooped off to Sighnaghi on Wednesday for our supervisors conference where we met our school directors (for TEFL volunteers) of NGO counterparts (business volunteers). Following some R and R in the wonderful tourist haven of Sighnaghi, we were on the move again to all our permanent sites.

First, there was a quick drive through the countryside, during which I was bombarded with majestic views of the towering mountains. No big deal. Then, I arrived in Tsinandali with my school director and met my new host family. Of course, this momentous occasion was accompanied by a supra where the guest list was rounded out with my school director and the local gamgebeli (village governmental official).

Other than this welcome supra, my visit was relatively relaxing. In other words, I didn’t do much. My family has an amazing yard filled with grape vines, including a 100 year old vine tree. Unfortunately, I didn’t get any pictures this trip, but I have two years for that. At the new host family’s, there is also a legit feasting hall filled with drinking vessels, horns, and a long table to fill with family and friends. The sign on the gate to the property even says Tsinandalis Edemi (Tsinandali’s Eden), and it might seem like that since I will have an indoor toilet and potentially dialup Internet. Yes, this might be more Posh Corps than Peace Corps.

In addition to eating copious amounts of food (including two pieces of the meat-filled, dumpling-like khinkali which I made!), taking long naps, and attempting to talk to my new family (easier now since I speak better Georgian and there is an English speaker in the family), I also walked around my new school and around the village in general. Probably the highlight was the Chavchavadze museum and house. Chavchavadze is a famous Georgian poet, and his house is located in Tsinandali. It has now been turned into a museum, and the beautiful grounds are also now home to a presidential residence. The museum is free for Tsinandali residents, so I’m planning on spending some time there for sure (once I become a legit resident, not too far off since I have a Georgian face—just not the Georgian tongue).

After my pretty hard-working weekend, instead of letting me catch a marshutka back to Didi Chailuri by myself, my new host family insisted on driving me back. And all this after they had welcomed me with open arms into their home, force-feeding me delicious food, and going out of their way to express that I should consider their house to be my house. If nothing else can be said about Georgians, they are definitely a warm people, and their hospitality is unmatchable. So, in a plug for the country’s tourism, you should definitely put Georgia on your list of places to visit. And you’ve got a free place to stay if you make it out to Tsinandali.

Everything's Coming Up Chorchela

2009-07-28T01:40:00.003-04:00

The tags on our cars

Joe Himself

Discussing complex political concepts with the VP

VP and US Ambassador to Georgia

Marshutka ride back from Sighnagi.

Mexican Food!

Sighnaghi. In Georgian. On a bench.

View from our hike up the mountain.

Some women knitting.

Okay, not too much to excite you with this week—other than the fact that I might have Internet a couple days in a row! Oh, and the fact that I went on a ballin’ cultural trip, met Joe Biden (again), and lived it up at several supras. N.B.D. Despite the real excitement value in some of this weeks adventures, I’m gradually becoming more and more easily satisfied since some of the highlights of my cultural trips included a real toilet, air conditioning, and the kick-ass breakfast that came with the room. By the time I get back to America, you will probably be able to amaze me with the concept of continuous electricity, running water, and the magic trick you play on kids when you pull a quarter out of their ear. But on to some substance in this blog post.

So, my cultural trip that I took not last weekend, but the one prior, was pretty much a 24 hour trip to Sighnaghi, also known as the lover’s city (sakvarelis qalaqi) and as a tourist haven. It is a city situated at the top of a mountain that was basically created by the country for tourists, and it is a place that looks like it could be taken out of a Disney classic. This is not your average Georgia, but I think I get enough of that in the Didi Chailuri. This particular adventure began when I left with a fellow cluster volunteer, Jessica, to catch a marshutka. I don’t believe I’ve described this particular form of transport before, but these marshutkas run throughout the city and sometimes even within cities. They are essentially mini-buses with no defined stops, just destinations. So, you flag one down similar to flagging down a taxi. The hard part, though, is the fact that you have to read the tiny sign on the dashboard which has the destination written in Georgian.

Jess and I, after a quick stop at the local bazari where her host mom works, started walking in the direction of Sighnagi but keeping an eye out for a marshutka to pass. At one point, we decided to just stop in some shade and wait for one to come. Instead, we saw a police car pass, turn around and start inching towards us, turn around again, and then finally turn back in our direction, and pull up beside us. Armed with our trusty American Peace Corps passports and limited Georgian, we explained that we were not prostitutes working the main highway, but were in fact Peace Corps volunteers and teachers in Didi Chailuri. The cop seemed to believe us and actually wanted to help us flag down the next marshutka. Thank you Georgian hospitality. Unfortunately, the cops just got a call as the “marsh” we needed was passing by, so we ended up having to flag it down ourselves. This marsh got us as far as Tsnori, a town at the bottom of the mountain from Sighnagi, and we had to wrangle up a taxi to take us to the top and our hotel. Of course, our taxi ran out of gas on the way up the mountain on the sketchy back road, but with a hidden petrol stash in the back trunk, we were on our way again. Jess and I picked up some fellow volunteers, Paula and Katelyn, who had just arrived in Sighnagi, and we arrived at the most amazing hotel ever (at least from the perspective of a PCV). Our rooms were air-conditioned (!), had real sit-down toilets (!), had showers with running hot water (!), a TV (!) with only Georgian and Russian channels L, and included an amazing breakfast.

Our trip mainly consisted of frequenting the ever-desired after Mexican restaurant, Pancho Villa, where we ate two out of our three meals, basking in some cuisine that was not Georgian. Don’t get me wrong, Georgian food can be amazing, and most of the time it is. But there is no variety like back in the States where you can move from one type of cuisine to another. There is Georgian food at home and the same exact food in Georgian restaurants. Therefore, coming across chips and guacamole, burritos, fajitas, nachos, sangria, and some fruit smoothies is legitimately heaven on earth. Apart from the excitement of the Mexican satchemeli (food), we showered several times within our 24 hour stay. We also hiked up a mountain to see a church and visit St. Nino’s spring. St. Nino was the saint to bring Christianity to Georgia and consequently many Georgian women are named after her. The second most popular saint and name in Georgia is Giorgi (George). So, if I don’t know a student’s name in class, I can usually call out Nino or Giorgi and there’s a large percentage change that is will be correct. Hoards of people were crowded around the spring area, some trying to bathe in its waters and others filling up bottles with the water to take back home—probably due to alleged healing powers (I’m not really sure since Georgian travel guidebooks are not the most popular). There were some other misadventures of note. For example, we tried to get a taxi back to the town from the spring, and the taxi driver drove us down the mountain before we corrected him in our final destination. This mix-up also included my first attempt at bargaining with a Georgian, and we saved 2 lari but were probably overcharged due to the fact that we are foreigners. But, let’s move on to something else.

This past week also included my first birthday supra experience. A fellow volunteer’s host brother was turning 16. Of course, we decorated a crown for him in pink and purple and told him that all American boys wear such crowns on their birthdays, and he seemed to really appreciate it. The supra was originally set outside, but due to some rain, it got moved. Jess and I ended up sitting with the family in one room, and the male volunteers in attendance got in on the real action with the birthday boy and his friends in the kitchen. However, in efforts to break down the sex barrier in Georgia, we female volunteers decided to go in on occasion and drink a toast with the guys. Sometimes this involved drinking out of a traditional horn; sometimes it involved drinking out of the not-so-traditional conch shell. And sometimes it involved doing the vakhtanguri (linking arms with someone, bolomde-ing, and sometimes kissing on the cheek 3 times). I am not responsible for what I do in the name of integrating into my community. Oh, but don’t let me forget to mention the amazing and never-ending amount of food that kept coming on to the table, with the culmination point being the extravagant birthday cake. Georgians go all out on their cakes; that is for sure.

Due to my amazing luck, the morning after this supra was our chance to meet Vice President Joe Biden who was in Tbilisi. Needless to say, I woke up slightly late and had to run to catch the departing marshutka, but I made it—passport, camera, and some cash in hand. After traveling down George W. Bush Street for sometime, we arrived at a stopping point before going through security. The entire street was blocked off, and we had to get out of the car while a dog searched our van. Then, we re-boarded the bus, reached our location of the Marriott Hotel, and went through security at the hotel. The attendants were treated to some donuts while awaiting Joe’s arrival. In the mean time, us volunteers were able to hobnob a bit with the embassy and USAID staff who were there for the meet and greet. Now, I’m just hoping that such an event with come along again in two year’s time when I’m looking for a nice career-starting job…Finally, the moment arrived and the VP came out and talked to us for maybe 20 minutes or so (don’t quote me on that time, though). There was his usual friendly demeanor, there was some humor, and there was some Yates. His speech was really aimed at the other workers in the room, including the host country nationals, but the Peace Corps did get a shout out at the end of the day. After his talk, Biden took the time to shake hands and take a picture with everyone in the room, which hopefully I’ll be able to post for you. And we each got a couple seconds-long conversation with the number 2. I’d previously shook hands with Joe on the campaign trail, but now he even knows that I’m from the great state of Ohio. So, we are pretty much best friends.

The Biden event was great, and not just because it got us out of language class or that we got to meet of the Vice President of the United States. We also got to go to McDonald’s. Yes, the golden shrine of American culture. In Georgia, McDonald’s is pretty swanky, and I had no qualms in plunking down 11 lari for a nice double cheeseburger, fries, and shake. And the heavens rejoiced. See, easily satisfied. After a quick sesh with Ronald McDonald, it was back to the marshutkas and the villages. Back in time for teaching that afternoon. Speaking of which, this was my last week of teaching practicum. There isn’t too much new to relate on that front. I have plenty of time (i.e. 2 years) to fill your eyes/ears with news of my students. In our last week, the classes dwindled and we struggled to come up with some cohesive material with our lack of text books. But the kids continued to be great students (and great at helping each other disrupt class and cheat), and our counterpart teachers have been AMAZING. Our last period of the week consisted of playing outside with all the students and taking some pics together. I don’t have all the photos, but maybe I’ll get one to post later.

This post is stretching long beyond belief, but I will forge ahead with a couple anecdotes from my past weekend. It was part two of the cluster exchange and I was hosting another volunteer. Before that could all begin, though, we had a text of our security measures and had to gather in Sagarejo. After this slight but necessary disruption (see mom and dad, Peace Corps is keeping me safe), it was back to “normal” life. My “stumari” or guest was Katelyn, and she basically dropped off her things and met some of my host family before we headed out to a wedding supra with other volunteers and their guests. You may ask yourself: whose wedding was it, Cara? And I can now tell you it was for Lexo and Ia. However, at the time, I really had no idea whose wedding supra I was attending. Wedding crashers: Georgia. This country’s reputation for hospitality and the additional desire of seeing the Americans on parade was the impetus behind our invitation—and also a little help from our school’s director who knew the groom.

We arrived at the groom’s house, which is where the important festivities take place, and awaited the bridal party coming from Tbilisi where the church service was held. We soon discovered that us volunteers would not be intermingled with the other Georgian guests, but rather we had a table to ourselves in a place of honor right in front of the band, tamada, and rather close to the bride and groom’s table. The bride and groom arrived, stepped on a plate, and were given some chocolate I think to eat. Then, the festivities got underway. The plates started flying out of the kitchen and the toasts were announced with eloquence (as far as I could tell from the every 10^th or 15^th word I could understand). Of course, soon the music got underway, and what better way to be entertained than to watch the Americans make fools of themselves on the dance floor. Therefore, we were generally asked to dance for every song—with partners ranging from some of our young students to older, slightly intoxicated men. Furthermore, “Johnny Be Good” was also played three times in a row because it was the one American song they had. There was traditional Georgian dancing, the toss of the bouquet (though men and women attempting to catch it), dancing in a circle with the bride and groom, the cutting of the extravagant cake, and the ever-flowing spirits.

Now that this post has reached epic lengths, I will bring it to a close with maybe one further anecdote to make you smile. On Sunday, some of the volunteers in Didi and Patara Chailuri gathered for yet another walk down the riverbed to picnic. However, this time, being the graceful person that I am, fell flat on my back while attempting to fjord the two-foot wide ranging river, what we call the “Mighty Chailuri.” In the process, I managed to land on one of my fingers in the wrong way, and it may or may not be broken. We’ll see what medical has to say. And it is with this story of my grace and elegance that I finish this post. I’ll learn today my permanent site, so I’ll try to come back with an update on that by the end of the day, but if not I’ll be in Tbilisi the next day with even more Internet access. Holler.

P.S. In reference to the title of this post, chorchela is a candy-like substance that is sold at the side of the road all along the highway. It hangs from strings and consists of nuts dipped in some slightly-bland brown substance. It has been dubbed by some as the Georgian Snickers but ultimately pales completely in comparison. However, it is not too shabby, and the phrase, “everything’s coming up chorchela” is now the Georgian equivalent of “everything’s coming up roses”—but is so much better. Feel free to integrate that into your vernacular.

P.S.S. Shout out to one Ms. Eileen McNamara and Ms. Whitney Swanberg for having legitimate jobs as teachers! Congrats on entering the working force and leaving college bum-hood forever. Good luck to everyone else on the job hunt, as well!

2009-07-17T09:30:00.002-04:00

Some pics from July 4th...

That Face, That Face, That Georgian Face

2009-07-17T08:06:00.005-04:00

After two weeks off the grid, I have come back to the civilization of Sagarejo and can now update my blog. Unfortunately, I will not be able to regale you readers with the minutiae from each day of my despairing absence, so you’ll have to content yourselves with the highlights. Beware, none of this is in chronological order.

1.I have a Georgian face. This fact has been mentioned to me by several Georgians and demonstrated in several amusing incidents. For example, on my first day in Didi Chailuri, a fellow volunteer’s host mom was going around and hugging some of the volunteers that she was meeting. Then she came to me and turned around. After some clarification, though, it was discovered that she thought I was just some random Georgian who had decided to creep in on the volunteer tour of the local school, probably not usual since Georgians are always curious and there’s not much else to do in Didi Chailuri. Incident number two, I was on a cluster exchange (went to another volunteer’s village for a weekend; details to follow) and at a late-night khinkali (meat dumplings) eating session. The other volunteer’s family was amazed by my English skills since I clearly resembled someone’s friend or sister that I resembled in the village. Incident number three, also on cluster exchange weekend, I was at a supra and was again mistaken for a Georgian, as seen by repeated attempts of the supra members to talk to me in Georgian—failed attempts since I am far from mastering the language.

2. I am working with the children. After interacting intermittently with the village kids through various games of football/volleyball/etc, I have finally experienced the full reality of working in a Georgian classroom. Luckily, I am through two of my three weeks of teaching practicum, and therefore can celebrate. There have been ups and downs in the process, but since it’s my first time teaching (and teaching Georgians), the experience has been educational to say the least. Interesting fact number one: there is no cheating in Georgian. It’s called helping out your fellow classmate. This phenomenon seems like a throwback from the communist era. Something like helping out your comrade. But the Georgian students have perfected it. It seems that one student (usually a girl) does the work for a group of students, and the levels of knowledge in one class are so varied that someone can barely speak English while another person can be close to fluent. Also, forget playing a game fairly, and having one struggling student get out an answer since someone is likely to shout it out before long. Another interesting fact: being on time to class or quiet in class are foreign concepts here. Also, I have no classroom management skills. Though, I must say I it’s hard to control students when you don’t know what they are saying 85 percent of the time and vice versa. There are also the challenges of limited lesson planning time, limited school resources, and extreme heat, but enough about the pitfalls. Many Georgian students are also eager to learn English and eager to impress the teacher. Especially in the highly motivated beginners class—well motivated to learn but not actually do most of the work—students will wave their hands, yell out “Mas, mas, mas” (mastavlebeli = teacher), and pull on their necks (Georgian sign of eagerness) in order to answer a question or be asked to participate in a game or activity. One final thought, unrelated to teaching for the most part, I’ve seen some of my 10 year old students driving by themselves down the hill and running their family’s watermelon stand.

3. Okay, moving on. Last weekend, I went on a cluster exchange in which I headed to the village of Patara (small) Chailuri (bigger than Didi or big Chailuri, though). I hiked down the highway with some Patara volunteers to reach the destination. Upon being received with open arms by the host family, we ate some food (of course), went for a walk to see some majestic views and the little chapel out in the mountains. And later that night, we experienced the khinkali eating session where I was mistaken for a Georgian and beer and chacha were flowing. The next morning, we slept in to a glorious 10 AM (which would not be sleeping in for me in the States). But this sleep was interrupted by the sounds of the family already awake (on a Sunday) and the various barnyard animals. That morning, I watched my first Georgian film, called Svani, which included a family feud in the region of the country closest to ancient times, a Russian element, some interesting acting and cinematography, and a Hamlet-like ending. A thriller. This cinematic experience was followed by a hike through more mountains and vineyards and finally by my first large supra. This supra was held for a fellow volunteer’s host bebia’s funeral. While this may seem like a somber experience, it was actually less depressing than I thought it would be. The Georgians know how to celebrate a life. Plate after plate of food was passed around and toast after toast was made. Unfortunately, we couldn’t stay for the whole time, since I had to get back to Didi Chailuri, but it was still a great experience. Pictures to follow.

4. Last night, fresh on my mind, was another unforgettable experience. After a long day of Georgian lessons, English teaching, and lesson planning, I headed out to have a bonfire/picnic with volunteers from Didi and Patara Chailuri. We met in between our two villages, which entailed walking down the side of the mountain, through the sometimes dry riverbed of the Mighty Chailuri River (more like trickle at this point) to some green land in the mountains. We set up camp there and just hung out with some snacks, wine, beer, etc. Of course, there was the obligatory man on horseback looking for his lost sheep (similar to Mary Bo Peep), which it took him a while to find. There was also an amazing fire that some of the volunteers put together, but there was also a depressing lack of s’more making materials. We stayed in our idyllic locale until past sunset, cleaned up our trash and put out our fire (like good representatives of the American people). Then, we have a half-hour walk home in the dark, through the sometimes dry and sometimes flowing riverbed, filled with rocks and mud. Challenging, but rewarding for the amazing night sky that was overhead.

5. Finally, an update from the Fourth of July party. My family couldn’t go at the last minute, but I still headed out with everyone else. We had a mix of American and Georgian food (and one wrongly labeled ketchup bottle that turned out to be mayonnaise). Sang the national anthem and blew out candles on a cake decorated like the American flag. American games included Frisbee, football, baseball, jump roping, water balloon toss, three-legged race, etc. And we had the amazing game of thrashiborti (similar to dodgeball) and spontaneous Georgian dancing. Enjoy the photos, if they load successfully that is.

That’s all I have to regale you with thus far. I’ve already passed one assessment with many more to go. Next week is my mid-language test, and in two weeks, I’ll be finding out where my site placement, a..k.a. where I’ll be living for the upcoming two years. As always, I’ll keep you posted, when I’m not at a supra, that is. Good night and good luck.

Amerika da Sakartvelo Gaumarjos

2009-07-04T09:18:00.003-04:00

Hi, guys. Just a quick update hopefully on this day of our nation’s independence. The Peace Corps is having a small celebration to commemorate the day, with a gathering of all the trainees and their two favorite host family members and/or friends. I’m writing this post prior to going into Sagarejo since I won’t get much time on the Internet there. Hence, I can’t describe the swanky event at this time, but there are rumors to be a singing of the American and Georgian national anthems, playing with balls from various America sports, as well as no fireworks and maybe no American food (too expensive or inaccessible out in the wilderness). But if anything of interest should happen, I’ll let you know. Regardless, the Fourth of July this year is a new experience since it’s my first time celebrating out of country. Last year I was taking in the fireworks in DC from the Lincoln Memorial, and this year I’ll be surrounded by about 30 Americans instead of thousands. Oh, the changes in one year.

But on to a quick overview of my past week in the land of Sakartvelo. I’ve had my rite of passage of attending my first Georgian supra. Although it was small, it was an experience nonetheless. My host family had some additional family come in from Tbilisi—sufficient for a drawn out affair of food and wine. A supra is a traditional feast in Georgia celebrated in a variety of ways. One aspect found in all supras is the tamada, or toastmaster (in this case by host grandfather). The tamada starts each round of toasts. I haven’t exactly gotten the order of toasts down yet, but the first ones are usually to peace or to Georgia, followed by various toasts to friendship with America (since an American is attending), parents, children, brothers and sisters, those who have died, myself, and the church. After each toast at this supra, those who were drinking would reiterate the toast in their own variation—although mine consisted mainly of saying cheers (gaumarjos—actually the direct translation is closer to victory). Clearly, I have very advanced language skills already. When each person is done drinking their glass to the bottom, it is refilled for the next one to occur usually in under five minutes. My grandfather has instructed me that the way to handle such a drinking style is to alternate drinking and eating from the mounds of delicious food heaped on the plates that are literally piled on top of each other. And after the eating and drinking came the dancing, my family was pumping the music out into the Georgian night and doing a mix between traditional Georgian dance and the modern moves that you would see in the discothequa. I was also instructed to dance. Luckily I didn’t break out my camera for this supra, so you’ll have to wait for the next one to catch a glimpse of the food, drinks, or my mad dance skills.

The rest of the week was relatively mundane in comparison to the supra, but of course there are still experiences to relate to all the readers interested in the exciting minutiae of my daily routine (which I could now relate in Georgian…to an extent). I’ve continued having four hours of language class each day, so I have graduated from only knowing a couple nouns, adjectives, and the verb to be or to like to actually forming complete (though stilted) sentences like a real 3 year old. Sometimes I’ll even throw in some verbs in the past tense. Impressive, I know. On Tuesday, I had my mini LPI (Language Proficiency Interview) in which I was interviewed in Georgian and my conversation was recorded on tape. I’ll have another one midway through and at the end of training to actually become a volunteer. This LPI was to monitor our progress and they might mix up our language classes to put fast learners together and slow learners together, etc. I won’t find out until Monday, though, how I did.

After language in the morning, our cluster goes to a host family house for an amazing lunch. Of course, each family wants to outdo the others and pulls out all the stops with a never-ending supply of food. When it’s at my house, which has the best khatapuri in Didi Chailuri, it’s an opportunity to express any complicated ideas or feelings to my family since our language teacher accompanies us. Following lunch, it’s on to our technical training in the afternoon. This week has focused on developing lesson plans and teaching with counterparts. I could have used some help from my education major friends at this point, but alas I had to be creative all on my own. Next week, our three week long practicum starts in which I will actually be teaching children some English. Scary thought. If I return to America in the next couple of weeks, it is because all of my classes have mutinied against me and sent me packing.

Outside of class, I’ve been staying in the village since it’s too much of an effort at the moment to venture out—though I will be in the next couple of weeks. On a typical weekday night, I’ll be hanging with my host family, going to bed at an obscenely early hour, or spending some time with my cluster trainees. Just the other day, I watched the sunset from an amazing vista with two other trainees. This should be jealousy-inspiring. Other times, we’ll just be basking in the Georgian hospitality at one of the host family’s homes, enjoying a little of the delicious homemade wine of the Kakheti region or struggling with the homemade chacha (very strong liquor made from fermented grapes). I had my first taste of chacha last night; you could say it warms the body. Pretty much everything else could be summed up in the couple morning runs I’ve taken to work off all the Georgian hospitality (yesterday I ran down to the riverbed, though that meant I had to run up at the end) or the endless necessity of avoiding some serious dogs that are everywhere. Well, now this post has turned from a quick update to a long, drawn-out affair. But I know it is entertaining, a story both compelling and rich. Tune in next week (or maybe in two weeks) for the next installment. Megobrebi da ojakhi gaumarjos.

momTzons

2009-06-26T08:58:00.005-04:00

The glorious Georgian language.

My tricked-out classroom in Didi Chailuri.

A view of the mountains from my village. Dzalian lamazia.

Tbilisi on the ride out of town. Goodbye civilization.

All the G9 Trainees in front of our hotel in Tzavkisi, at orientation.

Village People

2009-06-26T06:56:00.003-04:00

I’ve officially been in Georgia for over a week now—experiencing the rigors of PST training and attempting to “integrate” into my small host village in the Kakheti region. I found out on Saturday that my cluster (me, 4 other volunteers, and my teacher) would be placed in the small village of Didi Chailuri—well small to me since “didi” actually means big in Georgian, and I guess we are a metropolis compared to Patara (small) Chailuri. From the hotel at orientation, all the trainees were driven to a school in Sagarejo where we were to be picked up by our host families. It began like a segregated middle school dance—trainees on one side and families on the other. Gradually, our training manager would call up one cluster and parcel them off one by one to their new families. We had already received info about the family on a small sheet of paper, but we finally met them face to face.

Everyone seems to be enamored with their own host family, but mine is clearly the best. I have host parents, a host aunt, host grandparents, and two little host sisters (aged 3 and 1). Unfortunately (depending on how you look at it), they speak almost zero English. While this will be good for my Georgian language skills in the long run, it is not so easy at the moment. Each day, though, I’m gaining my confidence in my French language ability since all the things I don’t know how to say in Georgian, I do know how to say in French—sadly not a popular language here. Additionally, I am becoming highly adept at miming my basic needs and interests—so I will be one badass charades player when I return to the states.

Despite my childlike language skills, my host family has embraced me. Above all, Georgians are an extremely hospitable people. The moment I walk into a room, someone is trying to give up their chair for me (even if it’s my host great-grandmother). Me and the other volunteers in my cluster have been welcomed into many a home with open arms and copious amounts of food and drink. Despite offering to help clean the dishes or prepare meals several times, my host family always refusing to let me help—but I’ve managed to clear my dishes one time after much insistence.

The biggest way that the Georgians show their love is through meals. Piles upon piles of food are presented (cheesy bread called khatchapuri, bean bread called lobiani, khinkali dumplings, cakes, cheese, fresh fruits and vegetables, etc), and pleading a small stomach or a lack of appetite will not save you from the host mother’s command of “Tchame, Tchame” (eat, eat). Much of the food is fresh from the garden or trees—cucumbers, tomatoes, mulberries, cherries, potatoes, etc. We even have our own cow, turkeys, and chickens—the roosters are always much appreciated at five in the morning. And while I’ve not experienced the glorious tradition of the Georgian supra, the tradition of toasting with wine still permeates into everyday meals. When you drink wine, you toast. And when you toast, you drink your glass to the bottom (“Bolomde!). My host family usually likes to start with a toast to Georgia, or to friendship between Georgia and America. And this is followed by various toasts to mothers and fathers, little children, friends, the church, etc.

Despite all previous description, I am not just drinking and eating in Georgian—although sometimes it feels that way. I have approximately 7 hours of training each day—4 hours of language training in the morning, followed by lunch at a trainee’s house, and 3 hours of technical (educational) training in the afternoon. Each morning, I’ll get up to a nice breakfast of carbs and more carbs with some tea, and start my walk to the school. Did I mention that our “village” really consists of one main road that is a hill, and I live at the bottom of the hill? So, I start my trek uphill and throw out many a “gamarjobat” along the way since many people congregate along on the road getting water, gossiping, etc, at 8 in the morning (or earlier). While I might get some “stoic” looks from the people I pass, they usually brighten up if I say hello. And sometimes, they want to engage in some conversation—many times involving a lot of things I don’t understand or calling me a “kargi gogo” (good girl). The Georgians are always interested in what’s going on—not only within their circle of friends (which is everyone in the village, but most especially with the new amerikeli volunteers. Of course, also along this route, I have to be careful to avoid speeding cars, horse and buggies, and above all horse shit on the road. It’s a never-ending game of frogger.

The Georgian is coming rather slowly, as seen by the fact that I am on a level below my three year old host sister. She tries to talk to me, and her mother has to explain that I don’t speak Georgian. And after several attempts to explain something to me, sometimes my host family members will just give up with a “ver gavige?” (you don’t understand?). Still, I am learning at least a couple words each day, and sometimes more. We have a highly developed technique at home that consists of me pointing to something and asking how to say that word in Georgian. And of course, there’s always dubbed Georgian television that I have been watching with my family. I’ve seen The Mummy Returns in Georgian, and a typical TV night line up consists of Spanish soaps dubbed in Georgian and Prison Break as well. There are other varieties, such as Dato someone or other, which I was watching last night, and my host dad was trying to explain that he is the Georgian version of Jean Claude van Dam. I’ve also interacted with the community a little while playing some volleyball with the local girls. The two guys in my cluster have been playing soccer everyday with the young boys, so I’m hoping to get in a little on that action later.

Not sure what else to say right now, except that I have spread some of the American culture by teaching my host sister how to high five, and that the landscapes are amazing around here. Not sure if the pictures will load with this internet connection, but if not, I’ll post some as soon as possible. Finally, send me letters and emails, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible (think in weeks or months, not days). Droebit.

The Journey of 1000 Steps Begins with 2 Overweight Suitcases (Luckily on Wheels)

2009-06-19T14:53:00.008-04:00

So, I’ve been in Georgia for around two days now, and there has been a surprising lack of Southern accents. Luckily, this void in my life has been filled by an overabundance of people speaking a language that I barely recognize. Along with some fairly complicated, though interesting, signs. See picture posted to right. Still, I’m already beginning to fall in love with the lovely Sakartvelo, and here’s an explanation of how the love affair began.

The PC (Peace Corps, not Providence College) journey officially started with a quick flight over to Philadelphia to meet up with the other volunteers (30 in total, including me) for our pre-departure staging. Of course, this was preceded by an attempt to pack everything I would need for two years of my life into two bags under 100 pounds. The first test. Outcome: Failure. I ended up hastily removing items in the line at the airport to make weight. Who really needs several changes of clothes in the Peace Corps?

Staging consisted of icebreakers (oh joy), identifying fears (gastrointestinal diseases and the like) and hopes (Georgian vino), safety and security (do not smile at leering men or flash your bling), and the splendid receipt of our first allowance. Yes, it sounds like we are children with mention of an allowance, but you’ll see that’s not too far from the truth when you hear of some of the policies that the Peace Corps has in place, such as our curfew. But, when I was handed that first envelope with my freshly charged debit card, I wasn’t asking any questions. Just burning a hole in my pocket. That night we celebrated our last meal in style with our generous per diem and prepared for our departure (finally!) for Georgia.

Our 24 hour travel to Georgia began with a rough start seeing as we had to argue with the airline to transfer our bags to Tbilisi upon arrival in Istanbul, so as to avoid having to reclaim bags, go through customs, and check in again. But using the 8 hours PC gave us at the airport prior to our flight and a little volunteer ingenuity, the problem was solved (although several bags were still lost). Nine hours after take off (during which there were some late night Peace Corps parties in the aisles and some priceless in-flight movies like Race to Witch Mountain and Hotel for Dogs), we found ourselves flying in to Istanbul, not Constantinople. There was a short layover, and thus no time to explore outside the airport, but plenty of time to pay $6 for a coke and change gates three times.

Finally, we reached the home stretch of the travel when we took off on Turkish Airlines for Tbilisi. After a 2 hour ride, we were coming in to the capital city, with a gorgeous view of the mountains surrounding us. I went up to the customs desk, received a shiny new stamp in my Peace Corps passport (unfortunately, no diplomatic immunity), and proceeded to baggage claim, meeting some of the smiling faces of the PC Georgia staff on the way. Then came the beginning of our public life in Georgia when all of the volunteers were ushered in front of some Georgian press and introduced to the U.S. Ambassador to Georgia, the Minister of Economics, and the Deputy Minister of Education. They were there to welcome the G9 (group nine) volunteers back to Georgia after a 10 month suspension of service starting last August. Here's a link to the article on the Embassy website. I'm not in the picture because I was standing left of where the photo was taken (Peace Corps Volunteers Return to Tbilisi).

Soon after, we were all herded on to a bus where we received a bottle of water, a token Snickers bar, cell phones (yay communication), and a second allowance. Despite appearances, I will not be raking in the cash, though. After receiving all these gifts, we drove through Tbilisi to arrive at a restaurant where we would be breaking bread (or rather khatchapuri – delicious Georgian cheesy bread) with some of the staff. Food was already spread out on the table when we arrived, and it just continued to arrive—with invisible hands bringing out new delicacies and replacing dirtied plates. I won’t discuss all the food in detail here since there will be no shortage of opportunities for that later.

After dinner, all the volunteers (well we’re actually not officially volunteers but trainees at this point) were driven up the hills of Tbilisi to the village of Tsavkisi just on the outskirts of the capital. Of course, this afforded us the opportunity to witness some more culture, the art of Georgian driving. Beware. This task involves racing up winding roads on the mountains, going into the other lane to pass a slow moving bus without much visual clearance, and making some tight turns at breakneck speeds. Good thing driving is not allowed for a Peace Corps volunteer. I don’t know if I would want to test my skills with the balls-y Georgians.

Now, our past two days have consisted of training sessions all day. There has been info about safety, health, and evening a briefing by the embassy. I’ve been in short interviews, language classes, and received vaccinations. Best of all has been the amazing (and never-ending) meals, meeting the very friendly and helpful staff, and getting to know all the trainees more. It looks like it’s going to be an amazing two years. However, I am still living in the lap of luxury relatively. We’re at a hotel with Internet, showers, toilets, safe food, and all other English-speaking trainees and staff. Tomorrow, I’ll find out my cluster (who I’ll be training with) and my host family for pre-service training. We’re also off tomorrow to around Sagarejo where my Internet access will be lacking, so no promises of when I’ll be able to post again. Hence, the long post. Just as an idea, my training will be filled (for 6 days a week) with language class, technical training, cross cultural skills, safety and security lectures, health info, and of course some time for travel. I’ll be assessed constantly and have some serious testing mid-way and obviously at the end of PST to determine if I’m ready to be sworn in as a Volunteer. Wish me luck.

P.S. I’ve already learned some phrases to turn down the flowing ghvino (wine) and chacha (homemade Georgian vodka of sorts made from grapes) that will inevitably be offered to me at a Georgian supra (feast)—alKoholi ar sheidzleba (alcohol is not allowed). So, for all those college grads out there looking to reform your ways, here’s a phrase to avoid that peer pressure. Of course, there is little likelihood that anyone will know what you are saying.