I'd like to start off this post with some bad news, then move on to the good.
First of all, there is a serious black mold problem in this house, both in the newly renovated grandparents' bedroom and the kitchen. I'm not quite sure what to do. These next two weeks I have off, so I'm going to try a plan of action that may involve:
a) talking to my family (who is probably not aware of the dangers, as I was not exactly aware until I did some research).
b) lemon juice? bleach?
c) buying a dehumidifier or two.
d) calling... someone at staff?
I don't know if they'd buy it or not, as the renovations were cut short due to a secretarial mix-up in the dad's paycheck, ending up with the family PAYING BACK hundreds of lari that he was overpaid the entire year. Bull. Really, secretary?
Secondly, Christmas was great. It was def a much needed respite after a week of going to class and not delivering the lessons we'd planned because not enough students showed up.
At least it gave me some extra time to prep for my trip this weekend-- beautiful Kazbegi/Stepantsminda!
I woke up Christmas day really wishing I could have raced Ange to the tree, sit the way my dad and I used to sit when we were both bawshwebi (it's killer on your legs, though), and revel in everyone's joy as we exchange cool/stupid things with one another and then set into the preparation of some interesting, nontraditional meal. At least I got to hang out with awesome people.
And the interesting, nontraditional meal part was preserved. Every night this weekend something new and different.
One night was spaghetti with light-on-the-tomatoness sauce and homemade cutout cookies with icing. I made the cookies, overcoming lack of cookie cutters with a knife, lack of powdered sugar with a coffee grinder, and lack of food coloring with a packet of German kool-aid, cherry flavored.
Another night was pasta with tomatoey-carrotey sauce, toffee peanuts, helva, and interesting contributions by David: meranguey cookies and stories of his life that defy classification or description. Let's just say he's been everywhere. And is a good philosophical ambler, too.
Also, the pasta served us the next morning as breakfast. Because Georgians don't wake up early, and thus maghazias were still closed when we wanted to go hiking. Thus, Brian fried up the pasta and we had mush with black pepper. Delish.
The next night we were lucky to get dinner of frozen kababi, carrots-in-kababi juice, and peas. All the maghazias were closed but one far away, and we got a police escort to it. Why, you may ask?
Let's just say that ice is not kind to downward hiking, and the police were worried that someone was pushed, so we had to assure them with help of a translator that no one was at fault.
The translator was largely unnecessary, because Cara's and my skills in Georgian are pretty serviceable. But her English was amazing. If she gets one more hour, she'll be at the minimum required hours of English to host a volunteer, for whom she also said she'd look for housing for. Motivation? It seems that way, so I hope that's the case (because that's a trait that a volunteer can actually work with), and I hope she'll get her wish.
Well, we had a wonderful time, regardless. We got exercise (!) on our hike to the monastery. Mt. Kazbegi is simply stunning. I'll get photos of the sunrise on the mountain from Cara and David. And the stars at night twinkled like I've never seen stars twinkle before.
And the policeman who gave us a ride to the store bought us a chocolate bar.
And the "real" holiday here in Sakartvelo is yet to come. Today I've been invited to a pig roast for New Year's (basically Christmas--see Saint Facetious' blog) at the aunt's place (the one who cuts my hair).
Host dad is at work and probably won't be home for New Year's, but maybe there will be some Chri-er, New Year's magic. And I'll make plenty of nom nom squares (aka cookies and maybe some babovka) in the weeks to come.
Perhaps I'll do a post sometime this week finishing up my thankful list from Thanksgiving, as well as a Festivus airing of grievances.
Until then, stay cool! And, if you're in Georgia and are always cold, stay warm!
Monday, December 28
Friday, December 18
Gilotsavt Barbaroba! And mamidas dabadebis dghe. (and tsudadoba.)
For those of you who are not fluent in Georgian (definitely felt today that is NOT me), Happy St. Barbara's Day and my aunt's birthday (and sickness day).
The day, for me, involved going to school and encountering classes of 4-8 students, then leaving school after 3rd lesson to go on a hike up the mountain to Barbara's church with most of the students.
Going there was okay. I ate more lobiani than I've ever eaten in a day. Lobiani's the traditional dish of the day and each of the students brought their family's own variety, so I had to try them all. And some cookies. And a mandarini (tangerine). And a blinchiki (fried pastry with cream). And some boiled pumpkin.
I also got to talk with some of the more talented students in English (and thus butchered my Georgian more than usual today).
In trying to come back, the students ridiculously decided to hike through the river bed rather than cross the bridge that we'd crossed in the first place (because the closer one is gapuchdabuli from the last big storm that came through, and Georgians are lazy). I protested and hiked farther north with some of the students, but eventually failed in my efforts and had to cross two makeshift log bridges rather than one. These kids are impressively adept at making log bridges, and one of the girls absolutely refused help in crossing and then told the boys, "See? I am clever!" (in English).
Now, I somehow ended up alone with this group of 7 seventh graders. While we were hiking back into town, one of the boys realized he forgot his bag, probably at the church. Which was like upwards of a half hour hike from where we were, one way. FML. Paula the indecisive is forced into the Responsible Adult role. What do we do? I, of course, was wishy washy. First we waited. I called the homeroom teacher of the class I was with who I'd gotten separated from (but not after calling my Georgian teacher of the same first name who was celebrating with her students in Baghdadi. Whoops.) and told her we'd be late. She told me the parents were worrying. So after more waffling, I decided to lead a group home. Partially because of the parents, and partially because I needed a bathroom due to the anti-constipation meds and digestive enzymes circulating my system. The boys stayed to wait for the other boy. When we got back, my host mom and the homeroom teacher both said the boys would be fine, and I know they would be, but it's the principle of the thing. When I asked the boys if they wanted to leave, and one said yes, the other asked him, "Are you heartless?"
Yikes! I don't want to be heartless. But I also didn't want to lose any remaining scrap of dignity. Whatev.
Then, naturally, it's the aunt's birthday today. So we went to her place for the party tonight (after stopping by the store last minute to pick out a present--a rose patterned cake plate, server, and plate set that cost 38 lari that the giftee probably does not need. Huzzah!). And the family commented I don't eat. Really. I'm getting sick of this. I was stuffed from earlier today, and I can't really eat bread, cheese, or alcohol, all of which were present and offered to me. But I accepted the homemade pickles, juice, pepper/tomato stuff, and preserved peaces. And a walnut nom nom square that wasn't that great. Hm. I'd say that's pretty good for being drugged up and worrying all day about school and then missing students. And Putin was on the news--his questionable orientation is in the spotlight, and the family collectively "ewwed" when the TV showed a picture of two men kissing (as my host bro affectionately snuggled with his uncle, arms and head resting on him, closer than most Americans would be comfortable with.).
As one of the boys said when I was silently panicking whether to stay or go, "Well, this is a day you'll remember. When your friends ask you what you did for Barbaraoba, you'll have a story to tell them."
(or something like that in Georgian.)
The day, for me, involved going to school and encountering classes of 4-8 students, then leaving school after 3rd lesson to go on a hike up the mountain to Barbara's church with most of the students.
Going there was okay. I ate more lobiani than I've ever eaten in a day. Lobiani's the traditional dish of the day and each of the students brought their family's own variety, so I had to try them all. And some cookies. And a mandarini (tangerine). And a blinchiki (fried pastry with cream). And some boiled pumpkin.
I also got to talk with some of the more talented students in English (and thus butchered my Georgian more than usual today).
In trying to come back, the students ridiculously decided to hike through the river bed rather than cross the bridge that we'd crossed in the first place (because the closer one is gapuchdabuli from the last big storm that came through, and Georgians are lazy). I protested and hiked farther north with some of the students, but eventually failed in my efforts and had to cross two makeshift log bridges rather than one. These kids are impressively adept at making log bridges, and one of the girls absolutely refused help in crossing and then told the boys, "See? I am clever!" (in English).
Now, I somehow ended up alone with this group of 7 seventh graders. While we were hiking back into town, one of the boys realized he forgot his bag, probably at the church. Which was like upwards of a half hour hike from where we were, one way. FML. Paula the indecisive is forced into the Responsible Adult role. What do we do? I, of course, was wishy washy. First we waited. I called the homeroom teacher of the class I was with who I'd gotten separated from (but not after calling my Georgian teacher of the same first name who was celebrating with her students in Baghdadi. Whoops.) and told her we'd be late. She told me the parents were worrying. So after more waffling, I decided to lead a group home. Partially because of the parents, and partially because I needed a bathroom due to the anti-constipation meds and digestive enzymes circulating my system. The boys stayed to wait for the other boy. When we got back, my host mom and the homeroom teacher both said the boys would be fine, and I know they would be, but it's the principle of the thing. When I asked the boys if they wanted to leave, and one said yes, the other asked him, "Are you heartless?"
Yikes! I don't want to be heartless. But I also didn't want to lose any remaining scrap of dignity. Whatev.
Then, naturally, it's the aunt's birthday today. So we went to her place for the party tonight (after stopping by the store last minute to pick out a present--a rose patterned cake plate, server, and plate set that cost 38 lari that the giftee probably does not need. Huzzah!). And the family commented I don't eat. Really. I'm getting sick of this. I was stuffed from earlier today, and I can't really eat bread, cheese, or alcohol, all of which were present and offered to me. But I accepted the homemade pickles, juice, pepper/tomato stuff, and preserved peaces. And a walnut nom nom square that wasn't that great. Hm. I'd say that's pretty good for being drugged up and worrying all day about school and then missing students. And Putin was on the news--his questionable orientation is in the spotlight, and the family collectively "ewwed" when the TV showed a picture of two men kissing (as my host bro affectionately snuggled with his uncle, arms and head resting on him, closer than most Americans would be comfortable with.).
As one of the boys said when I was silently panicking whether to stay or go, "Well, this is a day you'll remember. When your friends ask you what you did for Barbaraoba, you'll have a story to tell them."
(or something like that in Georgian.)
Tuesday, December 15
Medicine in the Great Land of Sakartvelo.
So. This shall be a small update, as I am feeling sicker than a dzaghls. So, I think an appropriate topic should be a step-by-step guide on how to take care of yourself in the wonderful land of Georgia.
1)Burns. Anything from a large burn covering most of your foot because you tried to can something with a used glass jar that has a crack on the bottom--to a small burn on your hand because you spilled scalding water from your teacup (if it's not scalding, it can't make tea. especially since you only stick the teabag in the water for a good three seconds, tops, then share the same chaisperi with the rest of the family.)
Should you receive such a burn, immediately cover your burn in oil, cry in pain while reluctantly applying aloe gel offered to you by your American boarder, and cut open any blisters formed. Then, cover with mysterious yellow mousse-like substance that resembles spray foam insulation. Call local doctor. Let American listen to doctor speaking on telephone, saying, "Yes, they already cut it," (or something like that in Georgian). Be prepared to be unable to walk for weeks and know that your work friends will ask the American about your health on marshutkas.
Should the burn be small, skip all steps except for the application of yellow spray foam.
2) Nutrition. There's a lot to be said here.
Basics include: look strangely at your American if he/she doesn't eat bread and potatoes and khatchapuri and other starches when they're all offered.
Drink 5+ cups of coffee a day; instant, Turkish/remain-y, and/or American brewed.
Eat plenty of cheese but never have constipation. (Riddle me this.)
Snack constantly.
To my family's awesomeness factor, they're totally cool with me limiting myself to one cup a day, though they still ask me every time if I want coffee. I think this is just the hospitality factor; it'd be rude not to offer.
3) Stomachaches.
Causes: Wearing thin slippers and getting cold.
Not wearing slippers and getting cold.
Not wearing a scarf and getting cold. (though I now realize I've never been yelled at for my lack of hat.)
Not wearing enough layers and getting cold.
Treatment: "tea" made of fruit muraba (syrupy jam). Mineral water. Warming up by the petchi.
4) Headaches.
Treatment: not Ibuprofen. That's only for shots.
I keep thinking I live in a different country than the rest of the volunteers. My counterpart (one of them) is motivated and wants to work. I eat fresh fruits and veggies, usually. Now, of course, it's a bit sparser pickins, but we've got plenty of muraba and compote (which also unnecessarily ups my sugar intake, cause I eat buttloads of chocolate and nom nom squares.) I get along with my family and spend a lot of time with them chatting and yukking it up over racking up frequent buyer points on pharmacy reward cards by bringing in real daisies (cause the cards have daisy pictures on them). My students say that girls can't always do what guys do because of physical inability. I'm inclined to agree with them to a certain extent, but managed to protest enough until they agreed that girls and guys could do "each others'" work if they had to. My counterpart and I talk about scrapbooking and taxis and xerox machines and good and bad advertising. Some of the teachers in the teacher's lounge rolled their eyes when I was interrupted from a normal conversation by a demand from a P.E. (read: male) teacher to say "bakaki tskalshi kikinebs" for his amusement. That same teacher also asks me every day, without fail, how I am and if I'm cold and when I want him to "warm me up" by feeding me wine. (not bad, it's winter, and after lessons).
Then there's the interactions in the store when I ask for the price of a glass pan that looks the right size for lasagna (40 GEL? Ew.) and actually get the "You're a foreigner? You speak Georgian? You teach English? Are you married? Oh, you should find yourself a nice Georgian boy." Ick.
But life in the village continues on rather normally. We have no heat in the school yet, because we're supposed to get central heating. By the middle of January. Normally, I wouldn't believe that date. Remember when my school was supposed to open a month earlier than it did? But they're working on the heating. During my lessons. I had a chunk of wall fall near my feet when I was trying to lead a failed impromptu game of pictionary/charades in seventh grade (brought into existence because the xerox wasn't working, so we couldn't make copies of the test scheduled for that day).
It's usual in Georgia.
1)Burns. Anything from a large burn covering most of your foot because you tried to can something with a used glass jar that has a crack on the bottom--to a small burn on your hand because you spilled scalding water from your teacup (if it's not scalding, it can't make tea. especially since you only stick the teabag in the water for a good three seconds, tops, then share the same chaisperi with the rest of the family.)
Should you receive such a burn, immediately cover your burn in oil, cry in pain while reluctantly applying aloe gel offered to you by your American boarder, and cut open any blisters formed. Then, cover with mysterious yellow mousse-like substance that resembles spray foam insulation. Call local doctor. Let American listen to doctor speaking on telephone, saying, "Yes, they already cut it," (or something like that in Georgian). Be prepared to be unable to walk for weeks and know that your work friends will ask the American about your health on marshutkas.
Should the burn be small, skip all steps except for the application of yellow spray foam.
2) Nutrition. There's a lot to be said here.
Basics include: look strangely at your American if he/she doesn't eat bread and potatoes and khatchapuri and other starches when they're all offered.
Drink 5+ cups of coffee a day; instant, Turkish/remain-y, and/or American brewed.
Eat plenty of cheese but never have constipation. (Riddle me this.)
Snack constantly.
To my family's awesomeness factor, they're totally cool with me limiting myself to one cup a day, though they still ask me every time if I want coffee. I think this is just the hospitality factor; it'd be rude not to offer.
3) Stomachaches.
Causes: Wearing thin slippers and getting cold.
Not wearing slippers and getting cold.
Not wearing a scarf and getting cold. (though I now realize I've never been yelled at for my lack of hat.)
Not wearing enough layers and getting cold.
Treatment: "tea" made of fruit muraba (syrupy jam). Mineral water. Warming up by the petchi.
4) Headaches.
Treatment: not Ibuprofen. That's only for shots.
I keep thinking I live in a different country than the rest of the volunteers. My counterpart (one of them) is motivated and wants to work. I eat fresh fruits and veggies, usually. Now, of course, it's a bit sparser pickins, but we've got plenty of muraba and compote (which also unnecessarily ups my sugar intake, cause I eat buttloads of chocolate and nom nom squares.) I get along with my family and spend a lot of time with them chatting and yukking it up over racking up frequent buyer points on pharmacy reward cards by bringing in real daisies (cause the cards have daisy pictures on them). My students say that girls can't always do what guys do because of physical inability. I'm inclined to agree with them to a certain extent, but managed to protest enough until they agreed that girls and guys could do "each others'" work if they had to. My counterpart and I talk about scrapbooking and taxis and xerox machines and good and bad advertising. Some of the teachers in the teacher's lounge rolled their eyes when I was interrupted from a normal conversation by a demand from a P.E. (read: male) teacher to say "bakaki tskalshi kikinebs" for his amusement. That same teacher also asks me every day, without fail, how I am and if I'm cold and when I want him to "warm me up" by feeding me wine. (not bad, it's winter, and after lessons).
Then there's the interactions in the store when I ask for the price of a glass pan that looks the right size for lasagna (40 GEL? Ew.) and actually get the "You're a foreigner? You speak Georgian? You teach English? Are you married? Oh, you should find yourself a nice Georgian boy." Ick.
But life in the village continues on rather normally. We have no heat in the school yet, because we're supposed to get central heating. By the middle of January. Normally, I wouldn't believe that date. Remember when my school was supposed to open a month earlier than it did? But they're working on the heating. During my lessons. I had a chunk of wall fall near my feet when I was trying to lead a failed impromptu game of pictionary/charades in seventh grade (brought into existence because the xerox wasn't working, so we couldn't make copies of the test scheduled for that day).
It's usual in Georgia.
Tuesday, December 1
Thanksgiving part 1: counterpart, family fun
Okay, so I should probably get on that Thanksgiving post that everyone else has already done like two weeks ago. Whatever. So I've been zarmatsi (lazy). I've also been busy.
And, you know, I've actually been enjoying life. In contrast to Spain (and much of the time afterward).
Let's examine the facts:
1) I've got a frigging awesome counterpart teacher.
"I want to be one of the best English teachers in the region."-My counterpart.
You probably won't hear this out of any of the other volunteers' counterparts' mouths. I've heard success with lesson planning, but it's more like a trip to the dentist; wheras my counterpart said, "We must plan the lessons together," when we first met. Granted, they're not perfect--what can you expect from lessons based on a book that's excellent albeit beyond the students' comprehension level?
Also, last week weplanned a Thanksgiving party pulled a party out of our asses in two days, complete with nuggets of info read by our 7th graders in both languages about the history of Thanksgiving (nuggets so enthralling that the teachers talked only QUIETLY throughout the whole thing), making of I-am-thankful-for hand turkeys, and feasting on pie made by yours truly as well as popcorn, nom-nom-squares (namskhwari aka cake/goodies), fresh berries, and coffee brought by the students and Magda. Everyone naturally applauded me and called me a "kargi gogo" (and it wouldn't be Georgia without an urging for me to get married. I love my director..). The whole thing turned out okay, but it was kind of a pain in the ass, and I didn't want it to be so much of a dog-and-pony-show as a time for the kids to learn the phrase "I am thankful for" and learn how to spell "pearents" right. Ah, well. What can ya do?
After the spectacle, my counterpart and I were cleaning up. I was carrying away the remains of coffee in a plastic cup, (the amount which, this time, I had managed to undermine the urgings to miertviet). I said to myself, "I don't want it anymore," to practice the newly learned Georgian word for "not anymore".
My counterpart said, "School or parties?"
I, stopped, did a double take, and we laughed. That's how cool my counterpart is.
Also, we had a slumber party at her house last week (lesson planning ran late and she didn't want me to go back in the dark and I didn't want to have her call my host mom to escort me). This culminated with us doing yoga on her bedroom floor while her 4-year old son played some racing game on the computer in Russian. Not very relaxing, but keep in mind that this was yoga in Georgia with a Georgian.
On to reason #2 I'm thankful and happy: The host family.
They're the most normal Georgians I've met in this whole country. And they've got a reputation in the village as people who get along with one another and are honest and giving and helpful. All true. These people give used clothing to the orphanage. The females still do 99.9% of the food prep, but the grandpa's been known to heat up a thing of beans when he wants to, and I swear my host bro made himself eggs the other night. And the guys DO work really hard; grandpa in the yard with the animals and crops and stuff, and the dad with his guard job. Not to mention all the guys (and my host mom, sometimes) are working on the house renovation now.
My host mom is something else. In addition to helping carry heavy things once in a blue moon, she stomped the grapes for the family because the dad was gone at work. Also, she is so patient with me, talks with me, and understands and corrects my poor grammar. She introduces me to people in the village, all of whom she's friends with/relatives with/godmother to/all of the above. She still thinks in the traditional Georgian manner that I'll catch cold if I walk around the house without wearing slippers, which I'm not sure I believe. (to quote Lauren, "I now wear socks all the time for reasons I don't understand!") But it is hella cold here. Like I said, we're doing renovations. The room with the pechi (wood stove) is being defloored and refloored. Thus, the pechi is outside. Solution? Go to the small room that's also been refloored and is half-put together and warm ourselves by the small pechi temporarily installed there.
I love my host kids/siblings, too. Last night at the family tutoring session, they successfully managed to make menus with practically every fruit in English, ask for coffee and vodka, and refuse to sell to one another, telling each other "shen khar stupid" and "shut up, ra." They crack me up.
Now it's khinkali-making night for the workers--my contribution will be some vashlis piure (apple's puree, aka applesauce). I'm gonna head to do that, but I'll catch you later.
I've got to tell you about me being a tamada (toastmaster) at a birthday supra, danceoffs with butt bombs, and also pie cooking escapades, if nothing else. I'll be back.
And, you know, I've actually been enjoying life. In contrast to Spain (and much of the time afterward).
Let's examine the facts:
1) I've got a frigging awesome counterpart teacher.
"I want to be one of the best English teachers in the region."-My counterpart.
You probably won't hear this out of any of the other volunteers' counterparts' mouths. I've heard success with lesson planning, but it's more like a trip to the dentist; wheras my counterpart said, "We must plan the lessons together," when we first met. Granted, they're not perfect--what can you expect from lessons based on a book that's excellent albeit beyond the students' comprehension level?
Also, last week we
After the spectacle, my counterpart and I were cleaning up. I was carrying away the remains of coffee in a plastic cup, (the amount which, this time, I had managed to undermine the urgings to miertviet). I said to myself, "I don't want it anymore," to practice the newly learned Georgian word for "not anymore".
My counterpart said, "School or parties?"
I, stopped, did a double take, and we laughed. That's how cool my counterpart is.
Also, we had a slumber party at her house last week (lesson planning ran late and she didn't want me to go back in the dark and I didn't want to have her call my host mom to escort me). This culminated with us doing yoga on her bedroom floor while her 4-year old son played some racing game on the computer in Russian. Not very relaxing, but keep in mind that this was yoga in Georgia with a Georgian.
On to reason #2 I'm thankful and happy: The host family.
They're the most normal Georgians I've met in this whole country. And they've got a reputation in the village as people who get along with one another and are honest and giving and helpful. All true. These people give used clothing to the orphanage. The females still do 99.9% of the food prep, but the grandpa's been known to heat up a thing of beans when he wants to, and I swear my host bro made himself eggs the other night. And the guys DO work really hard; grandpa in the yard with the animals and crops and stuff, and the dad with his guard job. Not to mention all the guys (and my host mom, sometimes) are working on the house renovation now.
My host mom is something else. In addition to helping carry heavy things once in a blue moon, she stomped the grapes for the family because the dad was gone at work. Also, she is so patient with me, talks with me, and understands and corrects my poor grammar. She introduces me to people in the village, all of whom she's friends with/relatives with/godmother to/all of the above. She still thinks in the traditional Georgian manner that I'll catch cold if I walk around the house without wearing slippers, which I'm not sure I believe. (to quote Lauren, "I now wear socks all the time for reasons I don't understand!") But it is hella cold here. Like I said, we're doing renovations. The room with the pechi (wood stove) is being defloored and refloored. Thus, the pechi is outside. Solution? Go to the small room that's also been refloored and is half-put together and warm ourselves by the small pechi temporarily installed there.
I love my host kids/siblings, too. Last night at the family tutoring session, they successfully managed to make menus with practically every fruit in English, ask for coffee and vodka, and refuse to sell to one another, telling each other "shen khar stupid" and "shut up, ra." They crack me up.
Now it's khinkali-making night for the workers--my contribution will be some vashlis piure (apple's puree, aka applesauce). I'm gonna head to do that, but I'll catch you later.
I've got to tell you about me being a tamada (toastmaster) at a birthday supra, danceoffs with butt bombs, and also pie cooking escapades, if nothing else. I'll be back.
Saturday, November 14
Back to life, back to the interwebs.
So! Thanks to me realizing that Peace Corps sends necessary information via e-mail, I shelled out the 155 lari and got myself a high speed modem. Then, after the two free trial days, as I was left in a village with no bankomati (aka ATM), I scrounged enough emergency funds together to buy myself 45 lari worth of mono cards to make my monthly payment. Naturally, the cards were in denominations of 5 (this is a village--who's gonna get a 25 lari card?) and I had to go to 2 different stores to get them (who carries 9 mono cards at a time? Not a village store.).
Anywhoo, expect more regular updates.
It's 2:00 in the morning now. I've not been sleeping regularly for about a week now--either stay up late for this supra, or because I'm too excited by the prospect of online shopping I can't go to sleep. Not that online shopping is more practical than going to the bazari at Tbilisi, because who's going to ship to Akhalsopeli? It's just that I have an aversion to haggling, and I was not about to pay 90 lari for a pair of much-coveted grey suede boots.
Basically, life is good. I seem to have stumbled upon the luck of the mystical triad-- my host family is awesome, my main counterpart is a wonderful teacher and a great friend, and I have a picturesque view of the Caucasus mountains when I step outside my room.
Firstly, my general "routine":
-wake up
-run/yoga
-dress
-breakfast
-school
-coffee with teachers
-lunch
-lesson recap writing
-tea
-sereales (terrible latin american soap operas), kronika (news), Who Wants 30,000 Lari, Va Banka (Georgian Deal or No Deal), Geostar (Georgian Idol), Truth Time, etc. etc. (da ase shemdeg)
-tiptoe to the toilet
-bed
Twice a week or so is shower night, when we light the pechi in the bathroom for some hot water (if it's rained and there's water in the tub-- the system broke when we had a big storm and they haven't fixed it yet. More on that later.)
Weekends are usually spent traveling, the most recent of which was Erakleoba in Telavi and then Johnnyoba and Iliaoba in Kvareli. (the suffix -oba is used to create days of celebration. In conversation class, I made up shokolatoba--guess what that celebrates. Anyway, Erakle was superduper king man, and Ilia was a writer, a banker, a patriot, a martyr, and a saint from the nextdoor town of Kvareli. It was also Johnny's birthday.)
I'm going to label some pictures, maybe sleep, and be back for more.
Anywhoo, expect more regular updates.
It's 2:00 in the morning now. I've not been sleeping regularly for about a week now--either stay up late for this supra, or because I'm too excited by the prospect of online shopping I can't go to sleep. Not that online shopping is more practical than going to the bazari at Tbilisi, because who's going to ship to Akhalsopeli? It's just that I have an aversion to haggling, and I was not about to pay 90 lari for a pair of much-coveted grey suede boots.
Basically, life is good. I seem to have stumbled upon the luck of the mystical triad-- my host family is awesome, my main counterpart is a wonderful teacher and a great friend, and I have a picturesque view of the Caucasus mountains when I step outside my room.
Firstly, my general "routine":
-wake up
-run/yoga
-dress
-breakfast
-school
-coffee with teachers
-lunch
-lesson recap writing
-tea
-sereales (terrible latin american soap operas), kronika (news), Who Wants 30,000 Lari, Va Banka (Georgian Deal or No Deal), Geostar (Georgian Idol), Truth Time, etc. etc. (da ase shemdeg)
-tiptoe to the toilet
-bed
Twice a week or so is shower night, when we light the pechi in the bathroom for some hot water (if it's rained and there's water in the tub-- the system broke when we had a big storm and they haven't fixed it yet. More on that later.)
Weekends are usually spent traveling, the most recent of which was Erakleoba in Telavi and then Johnnyoba and Iliaoba in Kvareli. (the suffix -oba is used to create days of celebration. In conversation class, I made up shokolatoba--guess what that celebrates. Anyway, Erakle was superduper king man, and Ilia was a writer, a banker, a patriot, a martyr, and a saint from the nextdoor town of Kvareli. It was also Johnny's birthday.)
I'm going to label some pictures, maybe sleep, and be back for more.
Thursday, November 12
Blast from the past, part 3
2 Sectemberi 2009
otxshabati
So much has happened since I last wrote! Sorry, avid readers! I have been busy like none other. I got that little time when I visited the PC office in Tbilisi last weekend, but I just responded to some FB messages. It's only a little ridiculous that I went from checking that thing multiple times a day to maybe once in about two months. And I was under a time crunch because I was going to go out to eat with some peeps.
So... Tbilisi Weekend #1! Much hiking and city seeing and chaming was to be had. We found this cute little hotel in Old Tbilisi and shelled out about 30 bucks each to stay in rooms with classic yet tasteful furnishings (some people got a fireplace!), and have a nice little breakfast of tomatoes + cucumbers, bread, cheese, muraba, tea, coffee, and omelette-esque eggs. The best part, though, was getting to talk with an old German dude in Georgian (and Russian, for those in our group who know it). He told us that he grew up in the area, that his children did, too, and he showed us this old Soviet victory/unity flag that his son could have sold in Czechoslovakia for a buku amount of money; at least a couple hundred. He was so excited to talk to some of his guests, I think, and he talked really fast, and I could barely understand him. But the gist I got. (P.S. Apparently, he wants to sell it. If anyone wants a bit of old Soviet glory, just wire me some money, and it can be yours for the low, low price of $100 US dollars! Shipping and handling not included.)
That's how it generally goes. I've been talk talk talking away with whoever I meet, wherever I go, whenever I can. A bebia who sat next to me one day on the marshutka back from Kvareli thanked me for coming to help the country. Two women who gave me a ride home from Kvareli asked if I knew any tsudi sitxuebi in Georgian, then proceeded to use a few to swear at a couple of crazy drivers (relatively speaking) along the road. The guy at the shwarma stand asked if I was in Tbilisi as a tourist, then asked if I had a big salary and if I liked Sakartvelo. A boxing trainer on the Axalsopeli marsh who lives in Tbilisi told me that America is like ajaptsandali (a mix of sautéed badrijani (eggplant), green peppers, tomatoes, onion, etc. etc) because he said Bush was Irish and I said my family was German and Czech; I told him that we say America is like a salad. Another lady on that same marshutka, a mother of probably one of my future students, told me that school is going to be on Saturdays because it's starting late (Oct 1) because of the remonte (rennovations). Later, at the parents-of-kids-in-dance meeting, I stood by her and she reworded a few things for me (the kids are making costumes, they're going to Turkey, there's H1N1 in Turkey, and the roofs at the school are bad). And my host mom is very upset (and reasonably so) that even though there are two kids from the same family, they don't get a discount. It's a lot of puli to be shelling out.
Speaking of puli being shelled out, I haven't been able to pay my family yet. Why? Well, there was definitely excitement on Saturday. I put the wrong pin in 3 times and my card got shecham-d by the ATM. Crap. But it's okay; I got it back today while in Tbilisi, waiting for the official office people in the Georgian bureaucracy
Soo... tired... from.... gza. I'll finish up some tomorrow, heizleba.
9 September 2009
(early in the morning, before going to sleep)
Greetings from the older, wiser Paula at the ripe old age of 22! Now that I'm older than dirt, surely the people in the village will respect me and not be amazed at how young and little I am! Well, maybe not. But all the same, it's good to reflect at birthday time.
Two years ago, I reluctantly sipped a shot in a bar in Spain with a bunch of strangers.
Last year, I relaxed in a hot tub at night and then bought a bottle of wine with my mom the next day.
This year, I woke up to roses outside my door and finished off the day by listening to people talk about family problems in Georgian, then going home for a nice supper of tea, tapli, and chocolate.
(looking back to last entry...) There were more bank issues. I went to Kvareli to take out some money, put the RIGHT PIN in, and it was eaten on the first try. Since the last marsh for my village left in five minutes, I couldn't go into the bank and get my card back. And since the next day I was traveling to Sighnaghi with the kids for my summer camp, I couldn't get it back then, either. So Saturday I went back to Kvareli to get my card back. I did so. Now, I couldn't reactivate it there because it wasn't a Sakartvelo's Bank. Why didn't I use the Sakartvelo's Bank, you may ask? Well, because the Sakartvelo's Bank branch is way out by the edge of town, balls far away from anything else of interest in the city. But that day I had time, so I walked to the bank branch.
I put the card back in action with the help of Lika, a bank employee who formerly taught English at my school in Axalsopeli. She walked with me to the ATM to withdraw my money, I put the right PIN in, and CHOMP! The damned machine shecham-d my card again.
Why did all this happen in the first place? Well, after my card was eaten for the first time in Kvareli (the second time overall), the slip of paper that the ATM spit out at me said “Rustaveli” on it. I suspected that the main bank hadn't freed/reactivated my card. I was right. Lika had to send an e-mail to the main bank in Tbilisi to free my card. And she finally just withdrew money inside the bank (even though there's a more expensive charge to withdraw from inside than from an ATM). Now I'm left with even less of a desire to ever deal with money and/or ATMS ever again. I wonder what'll happen next time I step up to an ATM.
Give me back the bartering system... I'll trade you my shoelaces for that cow! Really, though, the other day my family paid for some new clothes in honey. I'm not really sure how it works, but I think this is how it goes: Someone from the village goes to Tbilisi and buys a bunch of clothes to bring back. I think they usually have people in mind, though I'm not 100% certain. You get a big bag of clothes to bring home to try on, and a slip of paper with the prices is included. If the clothes fit and you like them and aren't daunted by the hella high price tag, you go back to the person's house and pay for what you want and take back what you didn't. It's a pretty sweet deal, joke or no joke. Also, when we went over, they gave me a shirt (which is a little too big for me, but it's rather cute. And it's in style in Georgia, FTW). I believe it was a gift for my birthday. I hope my family didn't have to pay for it, but I'm never entirely certain what's going on, so there you go.
Hm. We've been going to school the past couple days for teacher prep-work things. But it's on Georgian time. We're supposed to go to school at 10. But the past two days, we didn't make it until about 11. Why? Well, we had to eat breakfast, then wash dishes, then change clothes. You have to look spiffy whenever you leave the house.
Anyway, I'm a bit nervous because there are SO many teachers and so many faces and names that I don't know but everyone knows MINE. Also, my age is not impressive at all. At least I have the fact that I'm a philologist going for me, that's what Shorena (my host mom) told me. Yesterday the teachers were vying for their hours, which I don't have to do because I have to decide who I'm going to work with. Which may be a difficult dilemma, as I've discussed with Shorena and some of the other teachers, but I'll just have to wait and see when I get there.
Which won't be until October. I don't know if I mentioned this or not, but I'll remind you if I have. The school is under renovations, so classes don't start until October 1. After which I have Shabati-skola for a trimester. Ew. But, depending on who I work with, I'll have different days off. Not that I'm in love with lesson planning or teaching when I'm not exactly sure of what I'm doing and the students probably want to be there but not necessarily, but at least my life will have a purpose again.
Some things I'd like to get started up, though, include an English club for kids or older people,
helping get funding for the dancing school,
helping start more after school sports? Not that I'm super into that or know what I'm doing.
maybe a yoga class for busy parents? (and for me... I've been lazy since getting here)
maybe funding for a kino (movie theatre)... they used to have one when my host mom was younger, but now there's a stadium. And the school has a stadium. But the kids, as far as I can tell, are artsy. At least, my kids. They're into dance and music and Eto likes drawing. Which, that would be a good present for her—a how-to-draw book (which I'd have to hunt down here, maybe when my language skills improve) or art supplies.
But yes. Thus it goes.
Oh! I want to tell you all of my cooking adventures!!
First of all, it impressed my host family that I want to help with cooking, like cutting tomatoes in prep for preserves/ketchup. But my reasoning is, I eat here, I'm going to want to eat during the winter, why wouldn't I want to help? (also, there's the whole “cultural exchange” aspect of Peace Corps, I'm interested in learning food prep, and what else am I going to do in the village?) So now I'm called sometimes when they're doing stuff (like shelling hazelnuts). I've cut cucumber tomato salad a couple times and potatoes for fries once. Little by little, I'm getting independence in the kitchen. I'm fairly incompetent as of yet, partially because I didn't practice much in Chailuri, partially because cooking is a little more skilled here than buying frozen pizzas or brownie mix and popping it in the oven.
But Shorena's super supportive, and so's Eter (the bebia). One night, out of the blue, Shorena asked me to make an omelette for the family for supper. I was all over that! Too bad I didn't put in enough salt and forgot the cheese. It was still okay, but she hasn't asked me to make it again xD.
Also, I've made brownies a few times, which I jokingly call kakaosperebi—cacao-coloreds. Even though they've been not up to snuff any time I've made them (I have to get used to this Turkish oven deal : |) they've been a hit.
I've also made salsa (which my family thinks is too mzhave—spicy, but say it's delicious [though I think they'd say everything I make is delicious, even if it's obviously a disaster]) and tortilla chips. The salsa didn't turn out too badly, despite lack of lemon juice and sugar (which I forgot). And the chips were not a complete failure. I had to make tortillas and then cut them and then fry them. The tortillas turned out okay, but I'm not sure about the frying thing; I might try baking next time. Either that or deep frying instead of pan-frying. Also, I'd really like to get corn flour. We'll see. Oh, and shout-out to Geoff for teaching me to flip things in a pan without a spatula. That really impressed my family and made me seem like I actually knew what I was doing. ; )
I'm still kinda shy about going to the stores here, because I know they think I'm kind of a freak, and because my family thinks I shouldn't have to go so they send the kids, but I'm slowly getting to the point where I assert myself and just go. Not that there's much that I need from the store except oil and sugar and flour and salt and those sorts of things. We bought some cheese yesterday from some dude. It'll be a while before I catch on to who makes cheese and whatnot and where to get milk and where to buy things. Shorena said the store on 3rd street is pretty good.
For my birthday party this Friday, I'm going to make some brownies, pizza, salsa, and tortilla chips. There may be milkshakes, and there may be French toast the next day. I think Shorena wants to do xatchapuri, this tasty cabbage/pepper/mayo salad, and buy a big cake for me from someone in the village. I'm not sure what else. Hopefully there'll be wine, as well. Om nom nom!
And I'm gonna get my hair done by my aunt, who's a music teacher and also works at a salon. Lauren said her host mom also wants to have Lauren's hair done for my party, so she's going to have someone do Lauren's hair for her. Lauren is thrilled. : )
Also, last night was fun because we got out a book of riddles and such after supper. It was super fun! Even I understood some of them because I knew some of the basic premises in English, or I could just figure out the words. For example, there are two kids and a dad who are hunting and want to cross the river in a boat that can carry 100 kilo. If the kids are each 50 kilo and the dad is 100 kilo, how can they all cross?
Figure it out? Next, you have a 3-liter bottle and a 5-liter bottle and a sink. You want 4 liters of water. How do you accomplish that?
And, this, apparently is from a kids TV show: What's tall on a person, short on a pig? (which, if I'm not mistaken, is one translation from the Georgian phrase that also means what's taller than a person and shorter than a pig.)
Oh, and Lauren is going to stay for two nights. I really hope people get back to me, though. I only know for sure that 9 are coming. Seriously, people, let me know. I won't be hurt if you say no, I just need to know how many pizzas and brownies and salsa to make for the people that actually care about me ; D
(Stuck on the riddles? Okay, here you go.
1) both kids cross
one comes back
dad goes across
other kid comes back
both kids cross again
Next: 1) Fill the 3, pour into the 5.
2) Fill the 3, pour 2 into the 5-er to fill it.
You have 1 in the 3-liter bottle. Dump out the 5 and pour the 1 in there.
Fill up the 3. This, with the 1 in the 5-liter bottle, is 4 liters.
And finally, a hat.)
Have a good one!
1 October 2009
Well, here we are, October already. School should have started today, but didn't. The renovations aren't finished yet. So I'm still living day-to-day, trying to figure out what to do with myself. Obviously, I've kept busy, because I haven't been writing. Mostly, I've been preparing food and eating food and drinking coffee and trying to catch marshutkas.
I think I'll transcribe a letter I wrote to my family here for you all, when I make time. Other than that, big events:
my birthday party
Trip to Tsinandali and Lagodekhi
The pizza-party disaster
the grape harvest
Kyle's birthday party
Trip to Katchreti
Trip to Tbilisi for doctor's appointment
EAP practice consolidation meeting
Mostly, these happen on weekends. The rest of the time, live is rather uneventful. But I'll get to that later. For now, know that you all have my love. And special thanks to Mary for the lovely birthday box. I'm gonna chame that peanut butter like none other. : )
Okay, so the birthday party. The day after I wrote that entry I was sicker than a dog. I caught a virusi from my sister, Eto. Thus, I had many impositions: no washing dishes because my hands would get cold, no even thinking about going around without slippers on because my feet would get cold, no cold water because I'd get cold, no bread because it was refrigerated to keep it longer so they went out and bought icky store bread for me so that I wouldn't get cold... also I forced myself to drink glass after glass of water, all day, so I was constantly making trips to the outhouse. I took a nap and later fell asleep snuggled on the board stiff bed/couch thing downstairs watching TV with the g-rents, which was actually rather comfortable. The next day I felt LOADS better, but was still not allowed to wash dishes for fear of catching cold. But! We went shopping together. An interesting experience.
So. We'd made a list of the foods we wanted to make, partially based on requests from people who RSVP'd, partially based on “these are guests coming to our house for a supra, this is Georgia, this is what we must make for them.” That list was khatchapuri (of course!), khinkali (meat dumplings), zhonzholi (pickled capers), charkhali (beets; they're boiled, crinkle cut, and doused in oil and greens), cabbagey-carrot-pepper-mayonnaise salad, badrijani niorit [or nigovsit] (fried eggplant with garlic [or walnut sauce]—my family here makes them the best I've tasted because they do long fry-like slices rather than folding them over a thick layer of walnut sauce), namsquari (cake), torti (birthday cake [yes, there IS a difference]), and, naturally, fresh bread and cheese. There would also be Georgian meat-eggrolls, due to a mistranslation in a request for a Russian food consisting of bread with meat inside.
My host mom made the salads, a cream namsquari, and the meat-eggroll crepe-like skins the night before; I made salsa and brownies and pizza sauce and tasted the cabbagey salad and the charkhali.
The next day I got up early to start preparing more food. Shorena was already making coffee for us and Eter was making bread. Shorena and I directed traffic; we simultaneously spoke on the phone with marshutka drivers and volunteers to coordinate rides to the house from Tbilisi and various towns along the way. It was magical; I'm constantly grateful for my family's hookup with the marshutka drivers (2 in the family, host dad used to be one—all the drivers know the family).
Then I tried to make tortilla chips using corn flour, which was the opposite of a pleasant experience. For about an hour or two, I frantically messed with the oil and flour proportions and could only produce pan after pan of crumbly, fried pieces of hardtack. So we took a lunch break and then I made a batch of plain flour ones that turned out much better. Slowly, the guests began to arrive, and I became a part-time hostess, part-time escort, part-time chef, and basically ran around like a katami with its head cut off until forced to sit down and start partaking in the feast. Even then, the pizza was still coming out of the Turkish oven. Good thing there was plenty of good family wine, white and black, and an ambrosial liquor from Tom and Lauren! There was much vikeipot-ing (we will feast-ing) and fun to be had. Everyone took turns being tamada and made a toast in my honor, volunteers and family members. The rest of the evening was a weird blur of events including music on the panduri, piano, flute, and the instrument of instruments, the good ol' human voice.
Special thanks to Jefferson and Katie for helping with the tortilla chip frying, Katelyn for helping my host mom in various ways, Tom L for ice cream and chocolate covered cherries and taking charge of my phone while I made pizza and chips, Johnny and Katelyn for chocolate and Barf (washing your clothes in Barf really does make them clean!), and everyone who's taken the time and/or money and sent me cards and letters and Facebook congrats. <3
The next weekend I decided to pull a crazy one and go to both visit Cara and Tom L. Friday I got the marsh hookup from here to Kvareli, where I would catch the Telavi marsh, then from the station there get the Tsinandali marsh. I wanted to get a host present for Cara's family of Kindzmaruli wine because we've got a friend in the biz. I should have gotten out at the winery and then walked up to the station. However, I didn't know what time the marsh was leaving, and I didn't feel like trying to speak in my broken Georgian with the marsh driver to try to coordinate that, so I just waited until everyone got off and he stopped past the station. I tried to get off, but he told me to wait, he'd take me to the station. So I twiddled my thumbs, took some pictures, studied some flash cards, and finally he got done with his shopping and drove me a block to the station. And the marsh would leave in 10 minutes. Which was not enough time to walk anywhere and choose a good present, but plenty of time for me to pace and get annoyed for not asserting myself more.
So, the fun didn't stop once I got to Telavi. I was on the phone with Cara, trying to figure out where to go next, then I just asked the driver where we were going and how to get to Tsinandali. He asked around and told me he'd alert me to when the Tsinandali marsh was there—it was in just enough time to slip into a store, select a box of chocolates, and contemplate looking for a place to sit in the hustle and bustle of the station. I got standing room (luckily) on the marsh there, and again didn't feel like alerting everyone that I was an American going to visit her friend, so I didn't know exactly where to stop. Eventually, though, I had to open my mouth because I couldn't see where we were and didn't know where to stop because I'd never been there before. I was escorted to Cara by someone on the marsh, one of the students at her school. Gotta love small town (or, rather, village) life.
Once there, we had a pretty sweet time. But this rant is about my inability to use public transportation, so let it suffice to say that the Alexander Chavchavadze museum was pretty sweet. The gardens include a “labyrinth” of short hedges, a beautiful view, a church, several expensive-looking houses, and a pavillion that must have been used for a wedding, as the museum gardens apparently serve as the site of many a millionare's wedding. There's also a tree that people hid in when the place was invaded by the... somethings... anyway, by hiding (literally) in the tree, they escaped kidnapping. Also, we got free wine samples because one of Cara's counterpart's husbands was working the wine counter. Of course, this was on top of the chacha we'd had at lunch (and, naturally, they wanted to feed us more at dinner). And at dinner, in response to the usual “get married in Georgia” comment, I replied that I'd want a man who helps around the house. Cara's host dad joked that I need to marry a Russian man rather than a Georgian man, because apparently Russian men are more helpful around the house?? Whatever. I am NOT going to get into a relationship the next two years. Does one really count if I'm living in the Twilight Zone? : |
Okay, so nice visit aside, my transportation troubles don't end there. I caught a marsh back to Telavi and the “helpful” marsh driver guided me into a marsh that said Lagodekhi... and some other things. I wondered why I didn't want the marsh that only said Lagodekhi, but figured that they weren't going to leave as soon or something. Anyway, I was distracted because an Azeri lady started talking to me in the marsh. So, turns out this marsh goes to Lagodekhi after going through Gurjaani and Tsnori. For those of you not familiar with Kakhetian geography, Telavi and Lagodekhi and Gurjaani/Tsnori form a sort of obtuse triangle, with Gurjaani/Tsnori sitting on the obtuse angle. So it took forever and a half to get there because marshutkas always make 5,000 stops, and this one took a 10 minute break in Gurjaani and a 20 minute break in Tsnori.
Joy of joys, I finally arrived at Tom's, giving up on trying to coordinate meeting up with a girl I'd met from my village who lives in Tbilisi and had studied abroad before so knew how I was feeling. Ah, well. We had a good hike in the beautiful Lagodekhi nature reserve and a nice picnic by the sulfur springs. I still don't like beer, but it might be growing on me, especially if it's the only thing to drink and there are peanuts involved. While we were hiking back, the girl called me and had managed to make it after all. We met at the entrance and agreed to meet an hour later in the center. After much needed rest time, Tom and I made our way to the center. We didn't see them, so we walked around trying to brainstorm how to pump money into the small towns and villages in Georgia so that there wouldn't be all these run-down buildings everywhere, like the huge theater that may have been awesome had it not been abandoned partway though construction.
We dined, played Egyptian Rat Screw, and were treated to a once-in-a-lifetime live soap opera performance, with American state spoons as actors and Russian cookies as props. I believe the plot was something like this: The guy asked the girl to a cafe, slept through the date, then showed up at her house to apologize and propose, which the girl accepted. Then the guy got drunk and beat the girl to within inches of death at the wedding supra (after saying he only married her because of her looks). The guy played possom when the police came, but the were eaten by bears or wolves or shot themselves or something. The guy went to jail anyway, and the wife went to the hospital on a stretcher of Russian cookies. He had amnesia and didn't remember beating his wife to an inch of her death; he just remembered how much he loved her. When the wife visited, he convinced her of this, she begged the guards to let him go, and they had two kids and lived happily ever after in their house of Russian cookies.
But that's not the last of my transportation adventures on this journey. The last marshutka from Lagodekhi to Kvareli left just as I was pulling into the station. Rather than take a taxi for 20 lari, I hopped the Lagodekhi-Tsnori-Gurjaani-Telavi marshutka, got off at Gurjaani, and with the help of a couple of taxi drivers in Gurjaani, caught the Akhalsopeli marshutka coming from Tbilisi. Whew!
That is certainly not the last of my adventures, but will be for now, because it's already quite late and I must travel to Tbilisi again for the third time this week for a follow up on my medical appointment. I probably have some intestinal parasite. I hate parasites. Luckily, school's not going to start until almost the end of October, so I have plenty of time to get better.
I'll write more often, I promise. You'll get to hear these stories yet, whenever I get the chance to post them. I can't promise I'll post more often, but I'll try to make them more interesting.
As always, <3
otxshabati
So much has happened since I last wrote! Sorry, avid readers! I have been busy like none other. I got that little time when I visited the PC office in Tbilisi last weekend, but I just responded to some FB messages. It's only a little ridiculous that I went from checking that thing multiple times a day to maybe once in about two months. And I was under a time crunch because I was going to go out to eat with some peeps.
So... Tbilisi Weekend #1! Much hiking and city seeing and chaming was to be had. We found this cute little hotel in Old Tbilisi and shelled out about 30 bucks each to stay in rooms with classic yet tasteful furnishings (some people got a fireplace!), and have a nice little breakfast of tomatoes + cucumbers, bread, cheese, muraba, tea, coffee, and omelette-esque eggs. The best part, though, was getting to talk with an old German dude in Georgian (and Russian, for those in our group who know it). He told us that he grew up in the area, that his children did, too, and he showed us this old Soviet victory/unity flag that his son could have sold in Czechoslovakia for a buku amount of money; at least a couple hundred. He was so excited to talk to some of his guests, I think, and he talked really fast, and I could barely understand him. But the gist I got. (P.S. Apparently, he wants to sell it. If anyone wants a bit of old Soviet glory, just wire me some money, and it can be yours for the low, low price of $100 US dollars! Shipping and handling not included.)
That's how it generally goes. I've been talk talk talking away with whoever I meet, wherever I go, whenever I can. A bebia who sat next to me one day on the marshutka back from Kvareli thanked me for coming to help the country. Two women who gave me a ride home from Kvareli asked if I knew any tsudi sitxuebi in Georgian, then proceeded to use a few to swear at a couple of crazy drivers (relatively speaking) along the road. The guy at the shwarma stand asked if I was in Tbilisi as a tourist, then asked if I had a big salary and if I liked Sakartvelo. A boxing trainer on the Axalsopeli marsh who lives in Tbilisi told me that America is like ajaptsandali (a mix of sautéed badrijani (eggplant), green peppers, tomatoes, onion, etc. etc) because he said Bush was Irish and I said my family was German and Czech; I told him that we say America is like a salad. Another lady on that same marshutka, a mother of probably one of my future students, told me that school is going to be on Saturdays because it's starting late (Oct 1) because of the remonte (rennovations). Later, at the parents-of-kids-in-dance meeting, I stood by her and she reworded a few things for me (the kids are making costumes, they're going to Turkey, there's H1N1 in Turkey, and the roofs at the school are bad). And my host mom is very upset (and reasonably so) that even though there are two kids from the same family, they don't get a discount. It's a lot of puli to be shelling out.
Speaking of puli being shelled out, I haven't been able to pay my family yet. Why? Well, there was definitely excitement on Saturday. I put the wrong pin in 3 times and my card got shecham-d by the ATM. Crap. But it's okay; I got it back today while in Tbilisi, waiting for the official office people in the Georgian bureaucracy
Soo... tired... from.... gza. I'll finish up some tomorrow, heizleba.
9 September 2009
(early in the morning, before going to sleep)
Greetings from the older, wiser Paula at the ripe old age of 22! Now that I'm older than dirt, surely the people in the village will respect me and not be amazed at how young and little I am! Well, maybe not. But all the same, it's good to reflect at birthday time.
Two years ago, I reluctantly sipped a shot in a bar in Spain with a bunch of strangers.
Last year, I relaxed in a hot tub at night and then bought a bottle of wine with my mom the next day.
This year, I woke up to roses outside my door and finished off the day by listening to people talk about family problems in Georgian, then going home for a nice supper of tea, tapli, and chocolate.
(looking back to last entry...) There were more bank issues. I went to Kvareli to take out some money, put the RIGHT PIN in, and it was eaten on the first try. Since the last marsh for my village left in five minutes, I couldn't go into the bank and get my card back. And since the next day I was traveling to Sighnaghi with the kids for my summer camp, I couldn't get it back then, either. So Saturday I went back to Kvareli to get my card back. I did so. Now, I couldn't reactivate it there because it wasn't a Sakartvelo's Bank. Why didn't I use the Sakartvelo's Bank, you may ask? Well, because the Sakartvelo's Bank branch is way out by the edge of town, balls far away from anything else of interest in the city. But that day I had time, so I walked to the bank branch.
I put the card back in action with the help of Lika, a bank employee who formerly taught English at my school in Axalsopeli. She walked with me to the ATM to withdraw my money, I put the right PIN in, and CHOMP! The damned machine shecham-d my card again.
Why did all this happen in the first place? Well, after my card was eaten for the first time in Kvareli (the second time overall), the slip of paper that the ATM spit out at me said “Rustaveli” on it. I suspected that the main bank hadn't freed/reactivated my card. I was right. Lika had to send an e-mail to the main bank in Tbilisi to free my card. And she finally just withdrew money inside the bank (even though there's a more expensive charge to withdraw from inside than from an ATM). Now I'm left with even less of a desire to ever deal with money and/or ATMS ever again. I wonder what'll happen next time I step up to an ATM.
Give me back the bartering system... I'll trade you my shoelaces for that cow! Really, though, the other day my family paid for some new clothes in honey. I'm not really sure how it works, but I think this is how it goes: Someone from the village goes to Tbilisi and buys a bunch of clothes to bring back. I think they usually have people in mind, though I'm not 100% certain. You get a big bag of clothes to bring home to try on, and a slip of paper with the prices is included. If the clothes fit and you like them and aren't daunted by the hella high price tag, you go back to the person's house and pay for what you want and take back what you didn't. It's a pretty sweet deal, joke or no joke. Also, when we went over, they gave me a shirt (which is a little too big for me, but it's rather cute. And it's in style in Georgia, FTW). I believe it was a gift for my birthday. I hope my family didn't have to pay for it, but I'm never entirely certain what's going on, so there you go.
Hm. We've been going to school the past couple days for teacher prep-work things. But it's on Georgian time. We're supposed to go to school at 10. But the past two days, we didn't make it until about 11. Why? Well, we had to eat breakfast, then wash dishes, then change clothes. You have to look spiffy whenever you leave the house.
Anyway, I'm a bit nervous because there are SO many teachers and so many faces and names that I don't know but everyone knows MINE. Also, my age is not impressive at all. At least I have the fact that I'm a philologist going for me, that's what Shorena (my host mom) told me. Yesterday the teachers were vying for their hours, which I don't have to do because I have to decide who I'm going to work with. Which may be a difficult dilemma, as I've discussed with Shorena and some of the other teachers, but I'll just have to wait and see when I get there.
Which won't be until October. I don't know if I mentioned this or not, but I'll remind you if I have. The school is under renovations, so classes don't start until October 1. After which I have Shabati-skola for a trimester. Ew. But, depending on who I work with, I'll have different days off. Not that I'm in love with lesson planning or teaching when I'm not exactly sure of what I'm doing and the students probably want to be there but not necessarily, but at least my life will have a purpose again.
Some things I'd like to get started up, though, include an English club for kids or older people,
helping get funding for the dancing school,
helping start more after school sports? Not that I'm super into that or know what I'm doing.
maybe a yoga class for busy parents? (and for me... I've been lazy since getting here)
maybe funding for a kino (movie theatre)... they used to have one when my host mom was younger, but now there's a stadium. And the school has a stadium. But the kids, as far as I can tell, are artsy. At least, my kids. They're into dance and music and Eto likes drawing. Which, that would be a good present for her—a how-to-draw book (which I'd have to hunt down here, maybe when my language skills improve) or art supplies.
But yes. Thus it goes.
Oh! I want to tell you all of my cooking adventures!!
First of all, it impressed my host family that I want to help with cooking, like cutting tomatoes in prep for preserves/ketchup. But my reasoning is, I eat here, I'm going to want to eat during the winter, why wouldn't I want to help? (also, there's the whole “cultural exchange” aspect of Peace Corps, I'm interested in learning food prep, and what else am I going to do in the village?) So now I'm called sometimes when they're doing stuff (like shelling hazelnuts). I've cut cucumber tomato salad a couple times and potatoes for fries once. Little by little, I'm getting independence in the kitchen. I'm fairly incompetent as of yet, partially because I didn't practice much in Chailuri, partially because cooking is a little more skilled here than buying frozen pizzas or brownie mix and popping it in the oven.
But Shorena's super supportive, and so's Eter (the bebia). One night, out of the blue, Shorena asked me to make an omelette for the family for supper. I was all over that! Too bad I didn't put in enough salt and forgot the cheese. It was still okay, but she hasn't asked me to make it again xD.
Also, I've made brownies a few times, which I jokingly call kakaosperebi—cacao-coloreds. Even though they've been not up to snuff any time I've made them (I have to get used to this Turkish oven deal : |) they've been a hit.
I've also made salsa (which my family thinks is too mzhave—spicy, but say it's delicious [though I think they'd say everything I make is delicious, even if it's obviously a disaster]) and tortilla chips. The salsa didn't turn out too badly, despite lack of lemon juice and sugar (which I forgot). And the chips were not a complete failure. I had to make tortillas and then cut them and then fry them. The tortillas turned out okay, but I'm not sure about the frying thing; I might try baking next time. Either that or deep frying instead of pan-frying. Also, I'd really like to get corn flour. We'll see. Oh, and shout-out to Geoff for teaching me to flip things in a pan without a spatula. That really impressed my family and made me seem like I actually knew what I was doing. ; )
I'm still kinda shy about going to the stores here, because I know they think I'm kind of a freak, and because my family thinks I shouldn't have to go so they send the kids, but I'm slowly getting to the point where I assert myself and just go. Not that there's much that I need from the store except oil and sugar and flour and salt and those sorts of things. We bought some cheese yesterday from some dude. It'll be a while before I catch on to who makes cheese and whatnot and where to get milk and where to buy things. Shorena said the store on 3rd street is pretty good.
For my birthday party this Friday, I'm going to make some brownies, pizza, salsa, and tortilla chips. There may be milkshakes, and there may be French toast the next day. I think Shorena wants to do xatchapuri, this tasty cabbage/pepper/mayo salad, and buy a big cake for me from someone in the village. I'm not sure what else. Hopefully there'll be wine, as well. Om nom nom!
And I'm gonna get my hair done by my aunt, who's a music teacher and also works at a salon. Lauren said her host mom also wants to have Lauren's hair done for my party, so she's going to have someone do Lauren's hair for her. Lauren is thrilled. : )
Also, last night was fun because we got out a book of riddles and such after supper. It was super fun! Even I understood some of them because I knew some of the basic premises in English, or I could just figure out the words. For example, there are two kids and a dad who are hunting and want to cross the river in a boat that can carry 100 kilo. If the kids are each 50 kilo and the dad is 100 kilo, how can they all cross?
Figure it out? Next, you have a 3-liter bottle and a 5-liter bottle and a sink. You want 4 liters of water. How do you accomplish that?
And, this, apparently is from a kids TV show: What's tall on a person, short on a pig? (which, if I'm not mistaken, is one translation from the Georgian phrase that also means what's taller than a person and shorter than a pig.)
Oh, and Lauren is going to stay for two nights. I really hope people get back to me, though. I only know for sure that 9 are coming. Seriously, people, let me know. I won't be hurt if you say no, I just need to know how many pizzas and brownies and salsa to make for the people that actually care about me ; D
(Stuck on the riddles? Okay, here you go.
1) both kids cross
one comes back
dad goes across
other kid comes back
both kids cross again
Next: 1) Fill the 3, pour into the 5.
2) Fill the 3, pour 2 into the 5-er to fill it.
You have 1 in the 3-liter bottle. Dump out the 5 and pour the 1 in there.
Fill up the 3. This, with the 1 in the 5-liter bottle, is 4 liters.
And finally, a hat.)
Have a good one!
1 October 2009
Well, here we are, October already. School should have started today, but didn't. The renovations aren't finished yet. So I'm still living day-to-day, trying to figure out what to do with myself. Obviously, I've kept busy, because I haven't been writing. Mostly, I've been preparing food and eating food and drinking coffee and trying to catch marshutkas.
I think I'll transcribe a letter I wrote to my family here for you all, when I make time. Other than that, big events:
my birthday party
Trip to Tsinandali and Lagodekhi
The pizza-party disaster
the grape harvest
Kyle's birthday party
Trip to Katchreti
Trip to Tbilisi for doctor's appointment
EAP practice consolidation meeting
Mostly, these happen on weekends. The rest of the time, live is rather uneventful. But I'll get to that later. For now, know that you all have my love. And special thanks to Mary for the lovely birthday box. I'm gonna chame that peanut butter like none other. : )
Okay, so the birthday party. The day after I wrote that entry I was sicker than a dog. I caught a virusi from my sister, Eto. Thus, I had many impositions: no washing dishes because my hands would get cold, no even thinking about going around without slippers on because my feet would get cold, no cold water because I'd get cold, no bread because it was refrigerated to keep it longer so they went out and bought icky store bread for me so that I wouldn't get cold... also I forced myself to drink glass after glass of water, all day, so I was constantly making trips to the outhouse. I took a nap and later fell asleep snuggled on the board stiff bed/couch thing downstairs watching TV with the g-rents, which was actually rather comfortable. The next day I felt LOADS better, but was still not allowed to wash dishes for fear of catching cold. But! We went shopping together. An interesting experience.
So. We'd made a list of the foods we wanted to make, partially based on requests from people who RSVP'd, partially based on “these are guests coming to our house for a supra, this is Georgia, this is what we must make for them.” That list was khatchapuri (of course!), khinkali (meat dumplings), zhonzholi (pickled capers), charkhali (beets; they're boiled, crinkle cut, and doused in oil and greens), cabbagey-carrot-pepper-mayonnaise salad, badrijani niorit [or nigovsit] (fried eggplant with garlic [or walnut sauce]—my family here makes them the best I've tasted because they do long fry-like slices rather than folding them over a thick layer of walnut sauce), namsquari (cake), torti (birthday cake [yes, there IS a difference]), and, naturally, fresh bread and cheese. There would also be Georgian meat-eggrolls, due to a mistranslation in a request for a Russian food consisting of bread with meat inside.
My host mom made the salads, a cream namsquari, and the meat-eggroll crepe-like skins the night before; I made salsa and brownies and pizza sauce and tasted the cabbagey salad and the charkhali.
The next day I got up early to start preparing more food. Shorena was already making coffee for us and Eter was making bread. Shorena and I directed traffic; we simultaneously spoke on the phone with marshutka drivers and volunteers to coordinate rides to the house from Tbilisi and various towns along the way. It was magical; I'm constantly grateful for my family's hookup with the marshutka drivers (2 in the family, host dad used to be one—all the drivers know the family).
Then I tried to make tortilla chips using corn flour, which was the opposite of a pleasant experience. For about an hour or two, I frantically messed with the oil and flour proportions and could only produce pan after pan of crumbly, fried pieces of hardtack. So we took a lunch break and then I made a batch of plain flour ones that turned out much better. Slowly, the guests began to arrive, and I became a part-time hostess, part-time escort, part-time chef, and basically ran around like a katami with its head cut off until forced to sit down and start partaking in the feast. Even then, the pizza was still coming out of the Turkish oven. Good thing there was plenty of good family wine, white and black, and an ambrosial liquor from Tom and Lauren! There was much vikeipot-ing (we will feast-ing) and fun to be had. Everyone took turns being tamada and made a toast in my honor, volunteers and family members. The rest of the evening was a weird blur of events including music on the panduri, piano, flute, and the instrument of instruments, the good ol' human voice.
Special thanks to Jefferson and Katie for helping with the tortilla chip frying, Katelyn for helping my host mom in various ways, Tom L for ice cream and chocolate covered cherries and taking charge of my phone while I made pizza and chips, Johnny and Katelyn for chocolate and Barf (washing your clothes in Barf really does make them clean!), and everyone who's taken the time and/or money and sent me cards and letters and Facebook congrats. <3
The next weekend I decided to pull a crazy one and go to both visit Cara and Tom L. Friday I got the marsh hookup from here to Kvareli, where I would catch the Telavi marsh, then from the station there get the Tsinandali marsh. I wanted to get a host present for Cara's family of Kindzmaruli wine because we've got a friend in the biz. I should have gotten out at the winery and then walked up to the station. However, I didn't know what time the marsh was leaving, and I didn't feel like trying to speak in my broken Georgian with the marsh driver to try to coordinate that, so I just waited until everyone got off and he stopped past the station. I tried to get off, but he told me to wait, he'd take me to the station. So I twiddled my thumbs, took some pictures, studied some flash cards, and finally he got done with his shopping and drove me a block to the station. And the marsh would leave in 10 minutes. Which was not enough time to walk anywhere and choose a good present, but plenty of time for me to pace and get annoyed for not asserting myself more.
So, the fun didn't stop once I got to Telavi. I was on the phone with Cara, trying to figure out where to go next, then I just asked the driver where we were going and how to get to Tsinandali. He asked around and told me he'd alert me to when the Tsinandali marsh was there—it was in just enough time to slip into a store, select a box of chocolates, and contemplate looking for a place to sit in the hustle and bustle of the station. I got standing room (luckily) on the marsh there, and again didn't feel like alerting everyone that I was an American going to visit her friend, so I didn't know exactly where to stop. Eventually, though, I had to open my mouth because I couldn't see where we were and didn't know where to stop because I'd never been there before. I was escorted to Cara by someone on the marsh, one of the students at her school. Gotta love small town (or, rather, village) life.
Once there, we had a pretty sweet time. But this rant is about my inability to use public transportation, so let it suffice to say that the Alexander Chavchavadze museum was pretty sweet. The gardens include a “labyrinth” of short hedges, a beautiful view, a church, several expensive-looking houses, and a pavillion that must have been used for a wedding, as the museum gardens apparently serve as the site of many a millionare's wedding. There's also a tree that people hid in when the place was invaded by the... somethings... anyway, by hiding (literally) in the tree, they escaped kidnapping. Also, we got free wine samples because one of Cara's counterpart's husbands was working the wine counter. Of course, this was on top of the chacha we'd had at lunch (and, naturally, they wanted to feed us more at dinner). And at dinner, in response to the usual “get married in Georgia” comment, I replied that I'd want a man who helps around the house. Cara's host dad joked that I need to marry a Russian man rather than a Georgian man, because apparently Russian men are more helpful around the house?? Whatever. I am NOT going to get into a relationship the next two years. Does one really count if I'm living in the Twilight Zone? : |
Okay, so nice visit aside, my transportation troubles don't end there. I caught a marsh back to Telavi and the “helpful” marsh driver guided me into a marsh that said Lagodekhi... and some other things. I wondered why I didn't want the marsh that only said Lagodekhi, but figured that they weren't going to leave as soon or something. Anyway, I was distracted because an Azeri lady started talking to me in the marsh. So, turns out this marsh goes to Lagodekhi after going through Gurjaani and Tsnori. For those of you not familiar with Kakhetian geography, Telavi and Lagodekhi and Gurjaani/Tsnori form a sort of obtuse triangle, with Gurjaani/Tsnori sitting on the obtuse angle. So it took forever and a half to get there because marshutkas always make 5,000 stops, and this one took a 10 minute break in Gurjaani and a 20 minute break in Tsnori.
Joy of joys, I finally arrived at Tom's, giving up on trying to coordinate meeting up with a girl I'd met from my village who lives in Tbilisi and had studied abroad before so knew how I was feeling. Ah, well. We had a good hike in the beautiful Lagodekhi nature reserve and a nice picnic by the sulfur springs. I still don't like beer, but it might be growing on me, especially if it's the only thing to drink and there are peanuts involved. While we were hiking back, the girl called me and had managed to make it after all. We met at the entrance and agreed to meet an hour later in the center. After much needed rest time, Tom and I made our way to the center. We didn't see them, so we walked around trying to brainstorm how to pump money into the small towns and villages in Georgia so that there wouldn't be all these run-down buildings everywhere, like the huge theater that may have been awesome had it not been abandoned partway though construction.
We dined, played Egyptian Rat Screw, and were treated to a once-in-a-lifetime live soap opera performance, with American state spoons as actors and Russian cookies as props. I believe the plot was something like this: The guy asked the girl to a cafe, slept through the date, then showed up at her house to apologize and propose, which the girl accepted. Then the guy got drunk and beat the girl to within inches of death at the wedding supra (after saying he only married her because of her looks). The guy played possom when the police came, but the were eaten by bears or wolves or shot themselves or something. The guy went to jail anyway, and the wife went to the hospital on a stretcher of Russian cookies. He had amnesia and didn't remember beating his wife to an inch of her death; he just remembered how much he loved her. When the wife visited, he convinced her of this, she begged the guards to let him go, and they had two kids and lived happily ever after in their house of Russian cookies.
But that's not the last of my transportation adventures on this journey. The last marshutka from Lagodekhi to Kvareli left just as I was pulling into the station. Rather than take a taxi for 20 lari, I hopped the Lagodekhi-Tsnori-Gurjaani-Telavi marshutka, got off at Gurjaani, and with the help of a couple of taxi drivers in Gurjaani, caught the Akhalsopeli marshutka coming from Tbilisi. Whew!
That is certainly not the last of my adventures, but will be for now, because it's already quite late and I must travel to Tbilisi again for the third time this week for a follow up on my medical appointment. I probably have some intestinal parasite. I hate parasites. Luckily, school's not going to start until almost the end of October, so I have plenty of time to get better.
I'll write more often, I promise. You'll get to hear these stories yet, whenever I get the chance to post them. I can't promise I'll post more often, but I'll try to make them more interesting.
As always, <3
Blast from the past, part 2
24 July, 2009
Paraskevi
So, yesterday I met with Joe Biden. Yep. It was pretty sweet.
I got up at 5 AM, got ready with Lauren (who borrowed my host sister's
hair straightener), caught the marshutka, drove to two other villages
to get those trainees (except one who overslept due to supra-ing too
hard last night), then after going through security we waited at the
Mariott in Tbilisi a couple hours and munched on some DOUGHNUTS while
we overheard conversations and had a larger vocabulary than the small
children because everyone spoke ENGLISH.
So, there we were, crammed in this swanky, air-conditioned ballroom at
the Mariott in Tbilisi (which, I heard, costs up to 500 Lari a night!
Yikes!). It was mostly American Embassy workers/families, I believe.
Joe Biden gave a speech basically consoling the Georgians that were
there about last August, then gave a small pep talk to the
international Americans, saying this is the time to work
internationally because they have the power to change policies. He
also cracked a few jokes about his age and kissed a few children.
When it was my turn to go up and shake his hand, he asked my name and
where I was from. “Iowa, eh? What city?”
“Clinton.”
“Oh, I know Clinton well. You don't believe me? (to the skeptical
look on my face) Well, I've been to all 99 counties in Iowa.”
Yay, Iowa Caucuses! I had one of the longest conversations with the
man. And a PC staff worker got a picture of me with Joe; I look like
I'm laughing my head off or doing the Tango. It's weird.
Just another day in paradise; this is reality in Georgia.
OH! My clustermates and I are totally gonna write a book together
called “The World is My Turkish Toilet.”
Some of our common phrases are:
This is reality in Georgia.
It's usual in Georgia.
UKATSRAVAD!!!
CHAME!!
Dzagles!
Everything's coming up churchelas/dzagles/turkish
Turkish coffee leads to turkish toilets (the latter of which is
considerably more unpleasant than the former)
Hopefully later today I
can score some time to write about this past week and the time in
Sighnaghi. It was AWESOME!!!
25 July 2009
shabati
Well, we have shabat-skola again today. Blegh. But I figured I'd
write a little more down so that you all know what I've been up to, so
I don't forget, and as a little bit of therapy. Yesterday was rather
stressful.
I want to get that out of my system first. Yesterday should have been
awesome because it was the last day of practicum. However, not only
did we not plan what we were going to do other than “games,” my
partner for two classes felt sick yesterday (he thinks it may have
been the McDonald's...) so he stayed at home. Not only that, but I
also had to teach the beginners. All by myself.
So the first fifteen minutes was dedicated to me running back and
forth to the teacher's lounge trying to scrounge up some paper and
pens for the number of students who did not have one or the other or
either and mysteriously seemed to multiply in number. Then I tried to
do a word scramble which failed miserably. Most students just copied
the words like “umntau” “okrp” and “aintr” in their notebooks and had
no idea what the heck to do even though I tried to model it with
“onsw” to “snow.” So then I dropped that activity and went to
pictionary, but I didn't have any words prepped so I decided to just
say words and have whichever team who wrote the word on the board
first get a point. But that wasn't enough for some of the boys, who
were throwing and had been throwing paper balls throughout the whole
class. So I told them to either play the game or leave. And then
everyone left. wtf. Well, it was only 5 minutes early, I needed prep
time for the next class, and the little kids all want to high five me.
But I was mean and didn't high five them yesterday because I felt
punchy.
So the next session was okay. I taught the intermeds with the
counterpart. The word scramble went over well there. I don't know if
they understood my modeling or just waited for Nona to translate the
directions to them. At this point, I don't really care. The scramble
took a long time. Katelyn had given me papers with words on it to
make sentences out of. I thought they were just scrambled, but I
guess there were just random words on there that you had to make
sentences out of. I naturally hadn't really looked at them before
class, so my directions for that were wrong. But then Nona explained
to them what to do and they wrote sentences and then class was over.
Then for the advanced class I had done no prep work whatsoever. So I
told them to write a letter to an international penpal and ask them
five questions about themselves or their country. I walked around
and corrected a few mistakes in their writing. A couple people wrote
an Internet dialongue. Most people just wrote the five questions.
Whatever. Then I told them that I was their penpal and that they
should ask me questions. We got into a little discussion about
universities in America, of which I actually know little because I
only visited a few private schools in Iowa before making my decision
on where to go. And I've only visited Iowa State, St. Cloud State,
and Naropa for non-Iowa/non-private schools. Whatever. I think they
still liked me. I was able to keep my punchiness more under control
with them, too.
Afterward, it was like I was on the red carpet at the opening night
for my book sales. All these kids accosted me and the other
volunteers for signatures, our parents' names, our favorite animals,
our phone numbers, etc etc. This continued for like 10-15 minutes at
least. It was a little overwhelming. But today some of the girls
want to give us a dance concert at 5 pm. So that should be awesome.
The only other time I've seen live Georgian folk dance was at the 4th
of July picnic, and I was focusing on it in a
trying-to-learn-it-instantaneously kind of way.
Now, I should really get to my homework that I didn't feel like
finishing yesterday because I had more important things to do after
school yesterday like not lesson plan, read Walden Two, crack out the
flute (the neighbors apparently think it's cool), make coffee, try to
talk about Russian and drinking problems/job problems (and try to
explain Lauren's ideas about ecotourism to her with my limited
Georgian vocabulary). But I really think we're talking now. And I
can understand some of what she's saying, too. I really like her and
wish I had more time to spend here... last night she asked if I would
exercise this morning, and I said if I wasn't feeling lazy. Then she
either said A) I have gained weight, B) I haven't gained weight yet,
or C) I should gain weight yet so it's okay if I don't exercise.
27 July
orshabati
So yes. Today was hub day in Sagarejo. I could have posted
things/e-mailed things today, but I would have rather talked with the
other mokhalisebi, which I did. You know why? Because today we got
our site placements! Win!!!!
I will be in Akhalsopeli, pretty close to Kvareli, which is pretty
close to Russia, and probably the farthest site from Tbilisi except
Lagodeki. I'm very scared and very excited.
1) It's a pretty small village, and sorta far away, so I hope I don't
get village fever and/or go crazy from lack of American contact. But
Katelyn will be in Kvareli, which is pretty darn close. There might
even be some stores there, so we can go buy some flip flops and body
wash there. (We tried to buy those two things the other day here in
Patara Chailuri and in Kakabeti, the neighboring village which is
slightly bigger. No such luck.)
2) Like I said, it's a couple hours from Tbilisi. Mleh. Not as
though I'd probably get to go that often, but still.
3) Today's sessions at hub were pretty depressing. Corruption, AIDS,
legal system (focusing on rape cases/the rape case they had last year
which the volunteer lost against the Georgian man). Also workplace
atmosphere. After all these sessions, I've pretty much concluded that
as a woman who has zero years teaching experience, I feel incredibly
vulnerable, but I really don't want to spend my two years getting
coffee for teachers at their meetings. I think I won't have to,
though. My site was a G6 site. The mokhalise there before me did a
“windows for warmth” project in her school (school #2 in the village),
so there's new windows. And the clubs and/or projects that they
do/that have been done there include an art show, something like a 4H
club (that currently has a bee project.... [does that mean there's
plenty of tapli? I LOVE tapli!!]), and a computer lab with 20
computers.
So I guess that last #3 of why I'm scared is also #1 of why I'm
excited. I've also been thinking about secondary projects I could do.
I would really like to do something with gender empowerment here.
It's just something I feel like I need to do. But... it's weird,
because I'm not really good at many “opposite gender” things that I
could do to show girls, “Hey! You can do this, too!” For example
(magari tad), I am awful at sports/ball games/etc. I could do a yoga
thing maybe. But I'm not necessarily that good at it myself—could I
really teach a class on it? I may try to at the summer camp we have
to do here in a few weeks.
But I can change a tire all by myself. I discovered that superpower
this year. And I can... carry chairs? Yesterday my host sister told
me that the chairs were heavy and that I shouldn't have to carry them
down the stairs from the balcony to the table down by the garden.
But... I did it anyway. Twice. They really weren't that heavy
Seriously.
But the only other “male” talent I have is culturally unacceptable
here. Luckily I haven't had too many problems with it, be it the diet
or whatnot. Yesterday I enjoyed enacting my hobby loudly for all to
hear, because we went on a hike by the river and there were no
Georgians within earshot. Belching is liberating! I swear!!
And drinking like a man is not acceptable here. But that's okay,
because I'm not that big on drinking anyway. We Patara mokhalisebi
and stumarebi (guests) had a mini supra the other night, but that's
the most drinking I've done since I've gotten here. Yesterday my host
uncle was visiting, so at dinner he offered me beer. Even though I'm
of German and Czech stock, I really don't care for beer. I know, I'm
a freak of nature! By all standards, I should suck that stuff up as
if it were the last available nourishment on Earth. But I guess I've
always been a little odd. : )
But, yeah, the rest of my talents? Sewing, singing, dancing (kinda),
playing the flute. Playing nurse. Building fires. I like clothes
and shoes and reading. And I actually enjoy cooking and cleaning.
Funny, even though I'm all for women's lib, I could probably make a
pretty good housewife. Except for the whole raising children part.
And the whole long-term lack of feeling intellectually useful to other
people.
But you don't want to hear about this! I should tell you more about Georgia.
My school also said that that they would like a volunteer to be able
to enrich their English library, train interested adults, contribute
to agro projects, PDM skills, and IT training.
English library expansion? Perhaps we can write letters in class
asking for book donations from you, my peeps in the states. I bet a
few churches and/or schools would get in on it, no?
Teaching adults? PERFECT for me. Except for my age. I tutored
Spanish to adults in the US, and I loved it and them, but I hope I
would gain enough respect here. Not that I'm really a hardass or
anything, so I have a bit of reservations about that, but I'll figure
it out.
Agro projects... I love plants and am very interested in learning
about them. I really wish I'd done the Master Gardener training now.
I wonder if there's a mail-order class for it?
PDM = project design and management. The PC project manager said that
I'd be able to attend training on that in the spring. So that's good.
IT training? I'm okay with computers. My skills are probably enough
to help the villagers out, as I don't think they need programming or
anything. But if so, I'd be willing to take a few lessons from one or
two of the guys or girls here if they've got sk1llz.
So I think I'll be pretty good for my community. I hope.
At the mokhalise mini-supra we had this weekend, I received some good
advice that I may or may not have heard before. Basically, balls to
the wall. It's Peace Corps. And today, one of the older BSE
volunteers who's a repeat repeat PCV and has been friggin' everywhere
again reassured me to not be so nervous. He's a seriously cool guy.
Tomorrow he's gonna help me find my way around the big, bad Tbilisi.
I will hopefully post this in the expat bar with good wi-fi? Maybe?
This week is a nice break from the norm of waking up, exercise
(maybe), breakfast, language class, cluster lunch, teaching, lesson
planning, going home and doing homework and some combination of
reading, washing clothes, bathing, eating, watching Spanish soap
operas or the news, and collapsing into my bed to do it all again the
next day.
Friday was the last day of teaching, so that was different. But I
already discussed how that went.
Saturday was shabatskola. Which is always a bad idea. But while we
were at cluster lunch, we had an Emergency Action Plan drill in which
we had to go to Sagarejo to make sure we could all consolidate in case
of an emergency. It took a long time, especially since we had to walk
to our houses from Katelyn's house, which is in the far back of the
village. When we finally got to Sagarejo by marshutka, we were hot
and sweaty and we had to hike up a hill with our emergency go bags.
To sit at a meeting for about forty five minutes and then go back to
our villages. AND the kids at our school were going to put on a
concert at 5. But we didn't get back until 6.
The concert was adorable, though. There was some traditional Georgian
dance and some singing and some Georgian jokes.
Kid 1: “Vano hit me!”
Kid 2: “Did you do anything?”
Kid 3: “I fell down!”
Volunteers: “hahaha?” *slow on the uptake for clapping*
Some things just don't translate. There's another joke, I don't
remember if I've mentioned it or not. Our LCF, Ana, told it to us at
cluster lunch one day.
“There was a man who went into the internet, but he forgot his
slippers outside.”
We really love that one. Seriously. The first time she said it, we
just stared, expecting more. But no. That's it. And now it's just
one of those things that makes us laugh. So even if its original
funny is lost to us, it's funny all the same.
I can't think of anything else to say right now. I'm extremely tired.
I think I'll throw these journal entries and my photos on a flash
drive to prep for tomorrow, then maybe go read out aivanze (on the
balcony). Woot!
06 August, 2009
khutshabati
I haven't posted in a long time, nor have I written in quite some
time. There's been a lot going on here, and I apologize for not being
good about recording things. But hopefully once “real life” starts
here, I'll be able to update more regularly. I don't think I have
internet at my permanent site (except by the phone company magtifix,
which is slower than a qu [turtle]). But there's an Internet cafe in
Kvareli, which is not too far by marshutka; it only costs 1.5 lari.
So my permanent site will be Akhalsopeli. Which I believe translates
to something like “new village.” (akhali = new, sopeli = village.)
It's a pretty sweet setup, in the beautiful caucasus mountains between
two small rivers. Oh, and, unlike someone who claims to be able to
see Russia from her backyard, I actually CAN see Russia from my
backyard. So eat it. And my new host dad is a border guard. I didn't
meet him yet, because he works for 20 days and then is home for 10,
but the rest of the family is awesome, so I'm excited to meet him when
I go back.
The school director is an awesome guy, too. He has three daughters
about my age and said I'm his meotkhe (fourth). I was a little
nervous at the supervisor's conference in Sighnaghi last Wednesday,
where all the volunteers met the school directors/NGO people they will
be working with at their permanent sites. My school director knows
family words in English, and that's probably about it. And he does
not enunciate or slow down his speech at all, so I have my work cut
out for me in learning Georgian so that I can understand him. I met
one of my counterpart English teachers, Magda, and her English is
pretty good for being the third or fourth language she knows; she's
better at German, and she knows Russian. Her husband, Zura, and she
have a five year old Giorgi (who is a little troublemaker. My host
mom and I went over to her house one night, and little Gio was running
around with the flyswatter and started hitting his mom and saying
“didi buzi! didi buzi!” (didi = big, buzi = fly). Sooo yeah. He
also cut some weird part of a picture out of a magazine and gave it to
me as a satchukari (present). How sweet! xD
Back to the fam, though. Grandparents: Baduri and Eteri, parents:
Gogita and Shorena (low 30's), kids: Baduri (13?) and Eto (12?). My
host mom, Shorena, is pretty much the coolest. She's a geography
teacher at school, and she reminds me a LOT of Jen Stiefel. She's
chill and has a lot of plants and can cook very well. She's friends
with like everyone in the village, because there are a lot of teachers
that live nearby, and she grew up in the village, too. She let me
borrow her flipflops to check out their garden (because all I had
there were dress shoes and my slippers. Actually, that's all I have,
so I need to check out a bazari when I go back because I looked at the
maghazias with the daughter Eter and didn't find a whole lot). And I
was hanging out with the visiting aunt (everyone in the village,
family, teacher, friend, visits and hangs out) and we were talking
when the visiting aunt asked if I was going to get married in Georgia.
Shorena yelled from the kitchen “I'm the mom, and I say no!! (or
something to that effect.)”
But yeah. The family is incredibly kind and conscientious. The first
day I was there, when we were eating (which, by the way, we do a lot
of... I'll rant later), Little Badur, though mostly silent, told his mom I
needed a new plate when she was up, whatever I needed (or really
didn't need, but it was provided anyway).
The family also has bees. So we have honey with like every meal. It
is sweet. Literally. The school also has bees, and I got to go to
the honey harvesting on Friday. The director cut off the closed
honeycomb from the beehouse shelves with a big knife, then they were
put into this vat with a spinny hand crank thing to fling the honey
out, and then you open the spigot at the bottom of the vat and pour
the honey into a barrel. I got to do the spinny thing once! And I
got to taste FRESH fresh fresh honeycomb (pichi tapli). My
Akhalsopeli family also gave me a jar of honey to bring back to
Chailuri. Awesome!!
And they were all very sad when I left. Shorena called the marshutka
for me (which, btws, was an interesting ride, but I'm running out of
time to write, so it'll have to be saved for another time or perhaps a
book). Everyone waved goodbye at the gate and I was shoofted off to
Chailuri two hours later.
Last night Lauren and Katelyn and I watched a Good Will Hunting,
because I've been feeling punchy and needed some human English hangout
time. And I've never seen that movie, but I really liked it a lot.
What really matters in life? Hmmm...
Afterwards, Katelyn went home and Lauren and I also cooked a meal at
my place; most of my family is gone on vacation to Bautumi, except for
the aunt and grandma and cousins, so mealtimes are kinda like a
Shakira song now. We had some much needed debriefing time, and I'm
extremely thankful for her and that we're both in Patara. Last night
we made fries (from scratch), tomato/pepper/parsley salad, and
overmedium eggs. Tonight I want to cook at her place... we'll see
what we can scrounge up that's American-ish. It'll be cool.
Okay, classtime now. Gotta jet.
Before I go, I would like to profusely apologize to Clare for not
talking to her while I was at the conference. There was a lot of
stuff going on, but I still would have liked to talk for longer. I
REALLY want to talk to you again!
mikvarhar,
Paula
Paraskevi
So, yesterday I met with Joe Biden. Yep. It was pretty sweet.
I got up at 5 AM, got ready with Lauren (who borrowed my host sister's
hair straightener), caught the marshutka, drove to two other villages
to get those trainees (except one who overslept due to supra-ing too
hard last night), then after going through security we waited at the
Mariott in Tbilisi a couple hours and munched on some DOUGHNUTS while
we overheard conversations and had a larger vocabulary than the small
children because everyone spoke ENGLISH.
So, there we were, crammed in this swanky, air-conditioned ballroom at
the Mariott in Tbilisi (which, I heard, costs up to 500 Lari a night!
Yikes!). It was mostly American Embassy workers/families, I believe.
Joe Biden gave a speech basically consoling the Georgians that were
there about last August, then gave a small pep talk to the
international Americans, saying this is the time to work
internationally because they have the power to change policies. He
also cracked a few jokes about his age and kissed a few children.
When it was my turn to go up and shake his hand, he asked my name and
where I was from. “Iowa, eh? What city?”
“Clinton.”
“Oh, I know Clinton well. You don't believe me? (to the skeptical
look on my face) Well, I've been to all 99 counties in Iowa.”
Yay, Iowa Caucuses! I had one of the longest conversations with the
man. And a PC staff worker got a picture of me with Joe; I look like
I'm laughing my head off or doing the Tango. It's weird.
Just another day in paradise; this is reality in Georgia.
OH! My clustermates and I are totally gonna write a book together
called “The World is My Turkish Toilet.”
Some of our common phrases are:
This is reality in Georgia.
It's usual in Georgia.
UKATSRAVAD!!!
CHAME!!
Dzagles!
Everything's coming up churchelas/dzagles/turkish
Turkish coffee leads to turkish toilets (the latter of which is
considerably more unpleasant than the former)
Hopefully later today I
can score some time to write about this past week and the time in
Sighnaghi. It was AWESOME!!!
25 July 2009
shabati
Well, we have shabat-skola again today. Blegh. But I figured I'd
write a little more down so that you all know what I've been up to, so
I don't forget, and as a little bit of therapy. Yesterday was rather
stressful.
I want to get that out of my system first. Yesterday should have been
awesome because it was the last day of practicum. However, not only
did we not plan what we were going to do other than “games,” my
partner for two classes felt sick yesterday (he thinks it may have
been the McDonald's...) so he stayed at home. Not only that, but I
also had to teach the beginners. All by myself.
So the first fifteen minutes was dedicated to me running back and
forth to the teacher's lounge trying to scrounge up some paper and
pens for the number of students who did not have one or the other or
either and mysteriously seemed to multiply in number. Then I tried to
do a word scramble which failed miserably. Most students just copied
the words like “umntau” “okrp” and “aintr” in their notebooks and had
no idea what the heck to do even though I tried to model it with
“onsw” to “snow.” So then I dropped that activity and went to
pictionary, but I didn't have any words prepped so I decided to just
say words and have whichever team who wrote the word on the board
first get a point. But that wasn't enough for some of the boys, who
were throwing and had been throwing paper balls throughout the whole
class. So I told them to either play the game or leave. And then
everyone left. wtf. Well, it was only 5 minutes early, I needed prep
time for the next class, and the little kids all want to high five me.
But I was mean and didn't high five them yesterday because I felt
punchy.
So the next session was okay. I taught the intermeds with the
counterpart. The word scramble went over well there. I don't know if
they understood my modeling or just waited for Nona to translate the
directions to them. At this point, I don't really care. The scramble
took a long time. Katelyn had given me papers with words on it to
make sentences out of. I thought they were just scrambled, but I
guess there were just random words on there that you had to make
sentences out of. I naturally hadn't really looked at them before
class, so my directions for that were wrong. But then Nona explained
to them what to do and they wrote sentences and then class was over.
Then for the advanced class I had done no prep work whatsoever. So I
told them to write a letter to an international penpal and ask them
five questions about themselves or their country. I walked around
and corrected a few mistakes in their writing. A couple people wrote
an Internet dialongue. Most people just wrote the five questions.
Whatever. Then I told them that I was their penpal and that they
should ask me questions. We got into a little discussion about
universities in America, of which I actually know little because I
only visited a few private schools in Iowa before making my decision
on where to go. And I've only visited Iowa State, St. Cloud State,
and Naropa for non-Iowa/non-private schools. Whatever. I think they
still liked me. I was able to keep my punchiness more under control
with them, too.
Afterward, it was like I was on the red carpet at the opening night
for my book sales. All these kids accosted me and the other
volunteers for signatures, our parents' names, our favorite animals,
our phone numbers, etc etc. This continued for like 10-15 minutes at
least. It was a little overwhelming. But today some of the girls
want to give us a dance concert at 5 pm. So that should be awesome.
The only other time I've seen live Georgian folk dance was at the 4th
of July picnic, and I was focusing on it in a
trying-to-learn-it-instantaneously kind of way.
Now, I should really get to my homework that I didn't feel like
finishing yesterday because I had more important things to do after
school yesterday like not lesson plan, read Walden Two, crack out the
flute (the neighbors apparently think it's cool), make coffee, try to
talk about Russian and drinking problems/job problems (and try to
explain Lauren's ideas about ecotourism to her with my limited
Georgian vocabulary). But I really think we're talking now. And I
can understand some of what she's saying, too. I really like her and
wish I had more time to spend here... last night she asked if I would
exercise this morning, and I said if I wasn't feeling lazy. Then she
either said A) I have gained weight, B) I haven't gained weight yet,
or C) I should gain weight yet so it's okay if I don't exercise.
27 July
orshabati
So yes. Today was hub day in Sagarejo. I could have posted
things/e-mailed things today, but I would have rather talked with the
other mokhalisebi, which I did. You know why? Because today we got
our site placements! Win!!!!
I will be in Akhalsopeli, pretty close to Kvareli, which is pretty
close to Russia, and probably the farthest site from Tbilisi except
Lagodeki. I'm very scared and very excited.
1) It's a pretty small village, and sorta far away, so I hope I don't
get village fever and/or go crazy from lack of American contact. But
Katelyn will be in Kvareli, which is pretty darn close. There might
even be some stores there, so we can go buy some flip flops and body
wash there. (We tried to buy those two things the other day here in
Patara Chailuri and in Kakabeti, the neighboring village which is
slightly bigger. No such luck.)
2) Like I said, it's a couple hours from Tbilisi. Mleh. Not as
though I'd probably get to go that often, but still.
3) Today's sessions at hub were pretty depressing. Corruption, AIDS,
legal system (focusing on rape cases/the rape case they had last year
which the volunteer lost against the Georgian man). Also workplace
atmosphere. After all these sessions, I've pretty much concluded that
as a woman who has zero years teaching experience, I feel incredibly
vulnerable, but I really don't want to spend my two years getting
coffee for teachers at their meetings. I think I won't have to,
though. My site was a G6 site. The mokhalise there before me did a
“windows for warmth” project in her school (school #2 in the village),
so there's new windows. And the clubs and/or projects that they
do/that have been done there include an art show, something like a 4H
club (that currently has a bee project.... [does that mean there's
plenty of tapli? I LOVE tapli!!]), and a computer lab with 20
computers.
So I guess that last #3 of why I'm scared is also #1 of why I'm
excited. I've also been thinking about secondary projects I could do.
I would really like to do something with gender empowerment here.
It's just something I feel like I need to do. But... it's weird,
because I'm not really good at many “opposite gender” things that I
could do to show girls, “Hey! You can do this, too!” For example
(magari tad), I am awful at sports/ball games/etc. I could do a yoga
thing maybe. But I'm not necessarily that good at it myself—could I
really teach a class on it? I may try to at the summer camp we have
to do here in a few weeks.
But I can change a tire all by myself. I discovered that superpower
this year. And I can... carry chairs? Yesterday my host sister told
me that the chairs were heavy and that I shouldn't have to carry them
down the stairs from the balcony to the table down by the garden.
But... I did it anyway. Twice. They really weren't that heavy
Seriously.
But the only other “male” talent I have is culturally unacceptable
here. Luckily I haven't had too many problems with it, be it the diet
or whatnot. Yesterday I enjoyed enacting my hobby loudly for all to
hear, because we went on a hike by the river and there were no
Georgians within earshot. Belching is liberating! I swear!!
And drinking like a man is not acceptable here. But that's okay,
because I'm not that big on drinking anyway. We Patara mokhalisebi
and stumarebi (guests) had a mini supra the other night, but that's
the most drinking I've done since I've gotten here. Yesterday my host
uncle was visiting, so at dinner he offered me beer. Even though I'm
of German and Czech stock, I really don't care for beer. I know, I'm
a freak of nature! By all standards, I should suck that stuff up as
if it were the last available nourishment on Earth. But I guess I've
always been a little odd. : )
But, yeah, the rest of my talents? Sewing, singing, dancing (kinda),
playing the flute. Playing nurse. Building fires. I like clothes
and shoes and reading. And I actually enjoy cooking and cleaning.
Funny, even though I'm all for women's lib, I could probably make a
pretty good housewife. Except for the whole raising children part.
And the whole long-term lack of feeling intellectually useful to other
people.
But you don't want to hear about this! I should tell you more about Georgia.
My school also said that that they would like a volunteer to be able
to enrich their English library, train interested adults, contribute
to agro projects, PDM skills, and IT training.
English library expansion? Perhaps we can write letters in class
asking for book donations from you, my peeps in the states. I bet a
few churches and/or schools would get in on it, no?
Teaching adults? PERFECT for me. Except for my age. I tutored
Spanish to adults in the US, and I loved it and them, but I hope I
would gain enough respect here. Not that I'm really a hardass or
anything, so I have a bit of reservations about that, but I'll figure
it out.
Agro projects... I love plants and am very interested in learning
about them. I really wish I'd done the Master Gardener training now.
I wonder if there's a mail-order class for it?
PDM = project design and management. The PC project manager said that
I'd be able to attend training on that in the spring. So that's good.
IT training? I'm okay with computers. My skills are probably enough
to help the villagers out, as I don't think they need programming or
anything. But if so, I'd be willing to take a few lessons from one or
two of the guys or girls here if they've got sk1llz.
So I think I'll be pretty good for my community. I hope.
At the mokhalise mini-supra we had this weekend, I received some good
advice that I may or may not have heard before. Basically, balls to
the wall. It's Peace Corps. And today, one of the older BSE
volunteers who's a repeat repeat PCV and has been friggin' everywhere
again reassured me to not be so nervous. He's a seriously cool guy.
Tomorrow he's gonna help me find my way around the big, bad Tbilisi.
I will hopefully post this in the expat bar with good wi-fi? Maybe?
This week is a nice break from the norm of waking up, exercise
(maybe), breakfast, language class, cluster lunch, teaching, lesson
planning, going home and doing homework and some combination of
reading, washing clothes, bathing, eating, watching Spanish soap
operas or the news, and collapsing into my bed to do it all again the
next day.
Friday was the last day of teaching, so that was different. But I
already discussed how that went.
Saturday was shabatskola. Which is always a bad idea. But while we
were at cluster lunch, we had an Emergency Action Plan drill in which
we had to go to Sagarejo to make sure we could all consolidate in case
of an emergency. It took a long time, especially since we had to walk
to our houses from Katelyn's house, which is in the far back of the
village. When we finally got to Sagarejo by marshutka, we were hot
and sweaty and we had to hike up a hill with our emergency go bags.
To sit at a meeting for about forty five minutes and then go back to
our villages. AND the kids at our school were going to put on a
concert at 5. But we didn't get back until 6.
The concert was adorable, though. There was some traditional Georgian
dance and some singing and some Georgian jokes.
Kid 1: “Vano hit me!”
Kid 2: “Did you do anything?”
Kid 3: “I fell down!”
Volunteers: “hahaha?” *slow on the uptake for clapping*
Some things just don't translate. There's another joke, I don't
remember if I've mentioned it or not. Our LCF, Ana, told it to us at
cluster lunch one day.
“There was a man who went into the internet, but he forgot his
slippers outside.”
We really love that one. Seriously. The first time she said it, we
just stared, expecting more. But no. That's it. And now it's just
one of those things that makes us laugh. So even if its original
funny is lost to us, it's funny all the same.
I can't think of anything else to say right now. I'm extremely tired.
I think I'll throw these journal entries and my photos on a flash
drive to prep for tomorrow, then maybe go read out aivanze (on the
balcony). Woot!
06 August, 2009
khutshabati
I haven't posted in a long time, nor have I written in quite some
time. There's been a lot going on here, and I apologize for not being
good about recording things. But hopefully once “real life” starts
here, I'll be able to update more regularly. I don't think I have
internet at my permanent site (except by the phone company magtifix,
which is slower than a qu [turtle]). But there's an Internet cafe in
Kvareli, which is not too far by marshutka; it only costs 1.5 lari.
So my permanent site will be Akhalsopeli. Which I believe translates
to something like “new village.” (akhali = new, sopeli = village.)
It's a pretty sweet setup, in the beautiful caucasus mountains between
two small rivers. Oh, and, unlike someone who claims to be able to
see Russia from her backyard, I actually CAN see Russia from my
backyard. So eat it. And my new host dad is a border guard. I didn't
meet him yet, because he works for 20 days and then is home for 10,
but the rest of the family is awesome, so I'm excited to meet him when
I go back.
The school director is an awesome guy, too. He has three daughters
about my age and said I'm his meotkhe (fourth). I was a little
nervous at the supervisor's conference in Sighnaghi last Wednesday,
where all the volunteers met the school directors/NGO people they will
be working with at their permanent sites. My school director knows
family words in English, and that's probably about it. And he does
not enunciate or slow down his speech at all, so I have my work cut
out for me in learning Georgian so that I can understand him. I met
one of my counterpart English teachers, Magda, and her English is
pretty good for being the third or fourth language she knows; she's
better at German, and she knows Russian. Her husband, Zura, and she
have a five year old Giorgi (who is a little troublemaker. My host
mom and I went over to her house one night, and little Gio was running
around with the flyswatter and started hitting his mom and saying
“didi buzi! didi buzi!” (didi = big, buzi = fly). Sooo yeah. He
also cut some weird part of a picture out of a magazine and gave it to
me as a satchukari (present). How sweet! xD
Back to the fam, though. Grandparents: Baduri and Eteri, parents:
Gogita and Shorena (low 30's), kids: Baduri (13?) and Eto (12?). My
host mom, Shorena, is pretty much the coolest. She's a geography
teacher at school, and she reminds me a LOT of Jen Stiefel. She's
chill and has a lot of plants and can cook very well. She's friends
with like everyone in the village, because there are a lot of teachers
that live nearby, and she grew up in the village, too. She let me
borrow her flipflops to check out their garden (because all I had
there were dress shoes and my slippers. Actually, that's all I have,
so I need to check out a bazari when I go back because I looked at the
maghazias with the daughter Eter and didn't find a whole lot). And I
was hanging out with the visiting aunt (everyone in the village,
family, teacher, friend, visits and hangs out) and we were talking
when the visiting aunt asked if I was going to get married in Georgia.
Shorena yelled from the kitchen “I'm the mom, and I say no!! (or
something to that effect.)”
But yeah. The family is incredibly kind and conscientious. The first
day I was there, when we were eating (which, by the way, we do a lot
of... I'll rant later), Little Badur, though mostly silent, told his mom I
needed a new plate when she was up, whatever I needed (or really
didn't need, but it was provided anyway).
The family also has bees. So we have honey with like every meal. It
is sweet. Literally. The school also has bees, and I got to go to
the honey harvesting on Friday. The director cut off the closed
honeycomb from the beehouse shelves with a big knife, then they were
put into this vat with a spinny hand crank thing to fling the honey
out, and then you open the spigot at the bottom of the vat and pour
the honey into a barrel. I got to do the spinny thing once! And I
got to taste FRESH fresh fresh honeycomb (pichi tapli). My
Akhalsopeli family also gave me a jar of honey to bring back to
Chailuri. Awesome!!
And they were all very sad when I left. Shorena called the marshutka
for me (which, btws, was an interesting ride, but I'm running out of
time to write, so it'll have to be saved for another time or perhaps a
book). Everyone waved goodbye at the gate and I was shoofted off to
Chailuri two hours later.
Last night Lauren and Katelyn and I watched a Good Will Hunting,
because I've been feeling punchy and needed some human English hangout
time. And I've never seen that movie, but I really liked it a lot.
What really matters in life? Hmmm...
Afterwards, Katelyn went home and Lauren and I also cooked a meal at
my place; most of my family is gone on vacation to Bautumi, except for
the aunt and grandma and cousins, so mealtimes are kinda like a
Shakira song now. We had some much needed debriefing time, and I'm
extremely thankful for her and that we're both in Patara. Last night
we made fries (from scratch), tomato/pepper/parsley salad, and
overmedium eggs. Tonight I want to cook at her place... we'll see
what we can scrounge up that's American-ish. It'll be cool.
Okay, classtime now. Gotta jet.
Before I go, I would like to profusely apologize to Clare for not
talking to her while I was at the conference. There was a lot of
stuff going on, but I still would have liked to talk for longer. I
REALLY want to talk to you again!
mikvarhar,
Paula
Blast from the past
11 July 2009
Shabati
Well, I really haven’t had much time to journal this week. It’s been
all I can do to wake up, go to language class for 4 hours, go to lunch
at a volunteer’s house, go back to school and teach English from 3 to
5, lesson plan for an hour or two (or three) then come back home for a
little bit. Then, I might go to a tutoring session at Ana’s (M,T), or
go to Lauren’s to study the steps of lesson planning for a test (W)
and walk home in the dark with Brian and/or Kyle. Or I might take
said test (and not know anything [T]) and wash a few clothes. Or I
might not really feel like doing anything except try to not think
about how bad I am at the language, amatom sheidzleba vkitkhulob
tsigns. (so MAYBE I’m reading a book).
Currently I’m reading Walden Two (still). It’s somehow very fitting
for me to read right now. It’s nearly impossible for me to describe
to my host family what it’s about (“political”… “fiction”? I should
throw “utopia” in there… however, it may be a dystopia. But I haven’t
gotten that far yet.), I’ll try to explain why it’s pertinent.
So, this group of collegiate-type people visit this planned community
in America. The name of the planned community? Walden Two. Duh. So
Walden Two is an intentional community founded on principles of
scientific experimentation for optimization of work. The denizens of
this community only have to work 4 or so hours a day (depending on how
undesirable the job is—poopsmithing is only 2 hours a day), and
everything is constantly undergoing experimentation as to how it could
be done more efficiently.
Side note on the poopsmithing, though—this week, something awesome
happened. Kyle’s family’s outhouse’s level has been rising to an
alarmingly high position, and our level of nervousness while using
said outhouse has been rising at a similarly high rate. But the
outhouse was mysteriously empty one morning. Kyle asked his host mom
about it, and she explained that a truck came in the middle of the
night and went “OM NOM NOM” with a big hose. So now their outhouse is
ready for many more uses. I only wish I had the
time/energy/opportunity to record Kyle’s impression of his mom’s
impression of the truck and post it here for all to enjoy.
But back to utopia. So these people are all living in this society
together, only working 4 hours a day or so, and apparently have good
artists and are happy and whatnot. The people who are in government
are required to spend some of their labor hours in physical labor so
that they don’t forget the people who work primarily in that sort of
job. Also because physical labor is good for you. I think that’s an
excellent idea… if, instead of going to posh health clubs and whatnot,
Americans spent a few hours a week working in a vineyard, we’d
probably be healthier and appreciate our food more. But then we
wouldn’t have delicious chemicalful food. (Mmm, I miss it so. Har
har.) Also, it’d be hard to organize… (or organise. We’re learning
many Britishisms, because most English textbooks here have things like
“lorry” and “favourite,” “tube” and “full stop.” It’s totally fun to
see how the English writers of these textbooks have dealt with the
“American” side of things… what do we do in America? One textbook we
used during lesson planning training had a “funny look at the
differences between America and Great Britain.”
Let me elucidate: *Ahem*. “Americans have two goals in life: to attain
as many things as possible, and to live as long as they can. They
will do anything to achieve these goals. British people are very
content where they are and never strive to gain status.”
Or: “Americans think of themselves first. They will straighten their
children’s teeth and tell them that they are beautiful and urge them
to go out for many extracurricular activities, encouraging them to be
number one in everything. British parents love their children just as
they are, crooked teeth and all.”
That concludes my extended parenthetical discourse on Britishisms.
God save the British writers of Georgian English textbooks.)
Today I’m going to head with Katelyn to Didi Chailuri to pick up
another volunteer, who’s going to stay at Katelyn’s house for the
shabat-kvira (weekend). Raton?? (Why??) Imitom rom it’s Cluster
Exchange Weekend!!! But I really don’t have good friends outside the
cluster, and I wasn’t quick on the uptake, so it’s a Patara weekend
for me. But that’s okay. My host sister has a birthday on kvira
(Sunday), and also Brian’s host grandmother who passed away this week
(ten minutes after we left their house at lunchtime on Wednesday) will
be buried on kvira. So it’s gonna be a busy weekend. Then it’ll be
Monday again and it’ll be
wakeup-school-lunch-school-lessonplan-ho
up again. Blech. I’m getting just a tad burnt out. But no big deal.
It’ll be fine. Albat.
I don’t know if I mentioned this in former posts, but Georgian moms
are plotting to fatten me up. At least, my mom and sister are—they
discussed it one night, throwing conspiratorial glances at me all the
while, and my sister said, “If you knew what we were talking about,
we’d be in trouble!!”. My mom keeps offering me coffee and chocolate
and cookies and chocolate-filled croissants saying, “ohh, kavas ginda?
Shocolatis ginda? Crossanis ginda? miertvit, miertvit!”
And I had tapli purit (honey and bread) at Lauren’s house when we were
studying for that how-to-be-a-teacher-test that we probably failed.
That stuff was good. No, it wasn’t just good, but there are no words
to describe it that do it justice. Not even dzalian gemruelia.
But now it’s time to go for a little walk. Mivdivart pexit didi chailurshi!
Kargad!
17 July, 2009
Friday
Today is our second hub day, full of health seminars and shots. We
also have our mid-assessment interviews to make sure everything is
going well. I don't have much time left, but I will note two things:
This weekend I'm going to visit Sighnaghi with a few other volunteers.
I hear they have a Mexican restaurant that's got a good reputation--
for Mexican food in Georgia, anyway. I'm super excited. They also
apparently have a beautiful monastery/church or two.
Next: We get our site placement announcements a week from Monday.
Exciting news!
So hopefully I'll get to go to an Internet cafe this weekend in
Sighnaghi because it's a touristy area. But here's my news from last
week!
Kargad!
Shabati
Well, I really haven’t had much time to journal this week. It’s been
all I can do to wake up, go to language class for 4 hours, go to lunch
at a volunteer’s house, go back to school and teach English from 3 to
5, lesson plan for an hour or two (or three) then come back home for a
little bit. Then, I might go to a tutoring session at Ana’s (M,T), or
go to Lauren’s to study the steps of lesson planning for a test (W)
and walk home in the dark with Brian and/or Kyle. Or I might take
said test (and not know anything [T]) and wash a few clothes. Or I
might not really feel like doing anything except try to not think
about how bad I am at the language, amatom sheidzleba vkitkhulob
tsigns. (so MAYBE I’m reading a book).
Currently I’m reading Walden Two (still). It’s somehow very fitting
for me to read right now. It’s nearly impossible for me to describe
to my host family what it’s about (“political”… “fiction”? I should
throw “utopia” in there… however, it may be a dystopia. But I haven’t
gotten that far yet.), I’ll try to explain why it’s pertinent.
So, this group of collegiate-type people visit this planned community
in America. The name of the planned community? Walden Two. Duh. So
Walden Two is an intentional community founded on principles of
scientific experimentation for optimization of work. The denizens of
this community only have to work 4 or so hours a day (depending on how
undesirable the job is—poopsmithing is only 2 hours a day), and
everything is constantly undergoing experimentation as to how it could
be done more efficiently.
Side note on the poopsmithing, though—this week, something awesome
happened. Kyle’s family’s outhouse’s level has been rising to an
alarmingly high position, and our level of nervousness while using
said outhouse has been rising at a similarly high rate. But the
outhouse was mysteriously empty one morning. Kyle asked his host mom
about it, and she explained that a truck came in the middle of the
night and went “OM NOM NOM” with a big hose. So now their outhouse is
ready for many more uses. I only wish I had the
time/energy/opportunity to record Kyle’s impression of his mom’s
impression of the truck and post it here for all to enjoy.
But back to utopia. So these people are all living in this society
together, only working 4 hours a day or so, and apparently have good
artists and are happy and whatnot. The people who are in government
are required to spend some of their labor hours in physical labor so
that they don’t forget the people who work primarily in that sort of
job. Also because physical labor is good for you. I think that’s an
excellent idea… if, instead of going to posh health clubs and whatnot,
Americans spent a few hours a week working in a vineyard, we’d
probably be healthier and appreciate our food more. But then we
wouldn’t have delicious chemicalful food. (Mmm, I miss it so. Har
har.) Also, it’d be hard to organize… (or organise. We’re learning
many Britishisms, because most English textbooks here have things like
“lorry” and “favourite,” “tube” and “full stop.” It’s totally fun to
see how the English writers of these textbooks have dealt with the
“American” side of things… what do we do in America? One textbook we
used during lesson planning training had a “funny look at the
differences between America and Great Britain.”
Let me elucidate: *Ahem*. “Americans have two goals in life: to attain
as many things as possible, and to live as long as they can. They
will do anything to achieve these goals. British people are very
content where they are and never strive to gain status.”
Or: “Americans think of themselves first. They will straighten their
children’s teeth and tell them that they are beautiful and urge them
to go out for many extracurricular activities, encouraging them to be
number one in everything. British parents love their children just as
they are, crooked teeth and all.”
That concludes my extended parenthetical discourse on Britishisms.
God save the British writers of Georgian English textbooks.)
Today I’m going to head with Katelyn to Didi Chailuri to pick up
another volunteer, who’s going to stay at Katelyn’s house for the
shabat-kvira (weekend). Raton?? (Why??) Imitom rom it’s Cluster
Exchange Weekend!!! But I really don’t have good friends outside the
cluster, and I wasn’t quick on the uptake, so it’s a Patara weekend
for me. But that’s okay. My host sister has a birthday on kvira
(Sunday), and also Brian’s host grandmother who passed away this week
(ten minutes after we left their house at lunchtime on Wednesday) will
be buried on kvira. So it’s gonna be a busy weekend. Then it’ll be
Monday again and it’ll be
wakeup-school-lunch-school-lessonplan-ho
up again. Blech. I’m getting just a tad burnt out. But no big deal.
It’ll be fine. Albat.
I don’t know if I mentioned this in former posts, but Georgian moms
are plotting to fatten me up. At least, my mom and sister are—they
discussed it one night, throwing conspiratorial glances at me all the
while, and my sister said, “If you knew what we were talking about,
we’d be in trouble!!”. My mom keeps offering me coffee and chocolate
and cookies and chocolate-filled croissants saying, “ohh, kavas ginda?
Shocolatis ginda? Crossanis ginda? miertvit, miertvit!”
And I had tapli purit (honey and bread) at Lauren’s house when we were
studying for that how-to-be-a-teacher-test that we probably failed.
That stuff was good. No, it wasn’t just good, but there are no words
to describe it that do it justice. Not even dzalian gemruelia.
But now it’s time to go for a little walk. Mivdivart pexit didi chailurshi!
Kargad!
17 July, 2009
Friday
Today is our second hub day, full of health seminars and shots. We
also have our mid-assessment interviews to make sure everything is
going well. I don't have much time left, but I will note two things:
This weekend I'm going to visit Sighnaghi with a few other volunteers.
I hear they have a Mexican restaurant that's got a good reputation--
for Mexican food in Georgia, anyway. I'm super excited. They also
apparently have a beautiful monastery/church or two.
Next: We get our site placement announcements a week from Monday.
Exciting news!
So hopefully I'll get to go to an Internet cafe this weekend in
Sighnaghi because it's a touristy area. But here's my news from last
week!
Kargad!
Saturday, July 4
Week two.
28 June 2009
Sunday
It's gvira today, and I think there will be much adventuring today. We're going to visit the castle finally sometime today, and we're going to a 40-day-after-funeral supra at Katelyn's place, and I want to bathe today.
And yesterday was very event-filled, as well. We had shabatis skola (Saturday school), and then lunch at Katelyn's house. Mind you, she lives like 20 minutes away from the school, uphill. And Lauren was invited to a supra in the woods type deal with a volunteer from another village and his host family and the other volunteers in the village. We hiked back to our houses, explained (sort of) what we were doing to our host families, changed clothes, and hiked down to the highway to catch a marshutka. A marshutka is a gregarious, vagarious, nefarious, but mostly precarious looking mini-van that drives between villages for a small fare; it's kind of like a cross between a bus and a taxi. There're how we roll here in Georgia. So with our limited language skills, Lauren and I managed to catch a marshutka to the right village—although, he dropped us off at the edge of town and not at the school. But all we had to do was walk up the road a ways, so it was okay. We met up with a volunteer and went to meet the family.
Limited communication is so hard. You don't want to feel like you're shunning the family, but it's so easy to talk in English and so hard to ask “rogor aris qartulad?” (how do you say this in Georgian?) every few minutes to the younger person in the group who inevitably speaks English. But we got to hike to their vineyard and garden, saw their plants, had a mini-supra in the woods, sang songs, and all was good. The bebia and another guy were amazing singers. I had my camera there, and another volunteer took pictures and a couple videos with it, so hopefully I'll get it from him sometime (I lent him my card).
So, they sang, right? And, I had brought the pictures of my friends, which showed I was in choir. So, we Americans were asked to sing. We sang the Star-Spangled Banner, because they sang what sounded like Georgia, the Beautiful. It was such an awesome time. I'm very glad we went. But we have to be back on-site by 7 every night for safety and security reasons, so we had to leave early.
Instead of catching a marshutka back, a family friend who has a car offered to drive us back. We got in their car, picked up the guy's daughter who spoke English and wanted to meet the Americans, and drove back to our village while we tried to explain to the girl that we work for the US government and aren't taking Georgian jobs. We think she thought we are taking jobs that she could have... so it was a little awkward sitting with her in the back when we turned into our village and the car broke down. Now, Lauren and I could have walked, no prob, but we wanted to make sure they would be able to make it back. Someone from Better-a helped them out, and we made our way to Lauren's place. I didn't want to have to have them drive me up to my place, so I just got off with Lauren. I'm glad that happened, because Lauren and I are on the Party Planning Committee for the 4th of July Cultural Event Day to be held next shabati, so we got some good ideas down for that.
It's gonna be awesome! We're hoping for lots of traditional American foods, like hamburgers, potato salad, baked beans, chips, ice cream sandwiches, brownies, etc. The staff will try their darndest to make it happen. We're also hoping to get some wood to make boards, a saw, and washers for Washers/Corn hole with washers, or maybe some horseshoes and stakes for Horseshoes. We'll get some inter-village competitions going on, and it'll be awesome. We get to invite two people, and I invited my two host sisters (last night during the storm when the electricity got damaged and went out). They are super excited about coming.
I really want to learn Georgian so that I know my host mom and dad don't think I'm a spazz. I want to have them teach me how to cook Georgian dishes, and I want to be able to talk with them without a translator, so that they can tell me things like how to heat up water for my bath without me feeling like an absolute idiot because I don't know what the Georgian word for “turn it off” is, so I stand there looking (and feeling helpless). Actually, the other night, I had a dream about my teeth being rotted and held together with rickety dentistry, and then they just fell out in a big chunk and my mouth gushed blood everywhere. I mean, it was pouring out by the bucketful. I think it was just a reflection of how helpless I feel, that I don't even have good, strong teeth to serve my most basic of needs.
And you never realize how much trash we as Americans create. Our group discussed it at shabati skola, and then Lauren and the others and I talked about this yesterday at the mini supra in the woods. We volunteers have barely been able to locate a single trash can in our homes. I know we have three; one under the kitchen sink, one next to the commode, and one outside somewhere. But they're all very small. Most garbage is placed deliberately on the side of the road. But, really, houses don't create that much garbage, it seems. And I feel tons guiltier about my half-an-hour showers when I take my bucket bath and don't use a whole bucket.
Anyway, speaking of which, I should go start that.
01 July, 2009
samshabati
So, I'm going to go out with my host sister in about 20 minutes, but I want to get a little journaling in before I do. Yesterday was pretty intense for me. We had our mini LPIs (language proficiency interviews). How did it go, you may wonder? Well. I wasn't awful, I suppose. But I was nowhere near being able to understand her on the first go. Or second. Or after some deliberation. So I felt pretty numb until sitting in the hot classroom talking about methods to teach English vocabulary to Georgian students just fried my brain. I got home, sat at the magida, attempted to do homework, decided that a little resting would be a good idea, then as soon as my head hit the pillow, before I knew it I was leaking like a faucet. So I sneaked down to the abazana to wash my face with some cool water ('cause it's so damn HOT in the afternoons! [and 'cause I'd made myself all hot and bothered and flushed]) and my host mom saw me looking miserable. It made it worse that I couldn't really tell her what was bothering me—because that's exactly what was bothering me! Language barriers, pardon my language, suck balls. She called Tatia in to translate my half-intelligible mumblings. But she hugged me and told Tatia to get my water, and told me to not do any studying that day. So I took some time off in my room and just lay there in my bed. I was aware-ened by an SMS from Katlyn, another volunteer, who invited me to go play frisbee with the kids at the school stadium. That jump-started me to wind up the Victrola of myself back to life and got my butt out of bed.
We went to the stadium and threw some frisbee and played some volleyball. I was coerced into an Americans vs. Georgians game. Somehow we won! Lauren and Brian and Kyle totally carried the team; Katelyn and I were just kinda there. Sometimes we helped the ball stay aloft, so that was okay. Whatevs. Then I decided to go back home. I'd told Katelyn that I had felt a little off that day, so she talked to me. She told me to keep in context how long I've been here, that I am learning, that no one becomes fluent even in 2 years, and then she told me about her communicating with her host mom last year. Sometimes... you don't need to understand the words to understand the sentiment. Tsota gavige... vpikrob.
Then she gave me a Snickers and told me to take one weekly, as needed. I think that's a pretty darn good prescription to follow.
The days are just so long, though, and simultaneously so short. I feel like I get very little done, but it takes so long to do it all.
I do feel better today. Our group's dynamic is just so that it's hard not to be happy when I'm with them, even if we're learning a ridiculously different-from-English language at a ridiculously rapid pace. Good satchmeli (food) helps, too. Mmm, kveli.
I think my sister's ready to go out. I'm not too keen on it, but it might make me feel better. I'd also like to have some tutoring with Ana tonight, too, so we'll see. Blegh!
02 July, 2009
hootshabati
The days definitely have their good and their bad. Yesterday, the good points: I talked with my host mom about coffee. She's very interested in differences between America and Sakartvelo, as are pretty much all Kartvelian people. So I told her that we have instant coffee and drip coffee. I also told her about espresso and cappuccinos, but I don't want to try to explain Starbucks. I don't understand Starbucks myself. That was actually part of our lunch conversation today; Ana asked about coffee, too. We have Turkish coffee here after every meal and whenever we visit a house and whenever I ask for it at breakfast time and randomly throughout the day sometimes. Here's how you make it:
One covsi-ful (spoon) of Turkish (VERY finely ground) kava (coffee)
One covsi-ful of shakari (sugar)
One pikrulob-ful (teacup) of water
Put all ingredients in tiny saucepan, bring just to a boil, pour in pikrulob. Enjoy with chocolates, tea cakes, cookies, biscuits, whatever. rogor tsginda.
Om nom nom. My host mom's coffee is the best. It's so thick you can almost chew it. I seriously like it. And I'm getting used to the really, really salty khveli (cheese). It's expecially good with cornbread (tchadi). I don't remember if I already wrote this, but I helped my host mom make tchadi one day! Well, all I did was form the dough that she had made into lumps and stick it in the oil. Two of them, to be exact. I know, cool, right? But hopefully I'll get to help her with more food prep, because I have a presentation about Georgian food to do at the end of PST. Actually, she said I might make pizza tomorrow night. But my sister is fasting for a religious holiday. Which means she can't eat dairy products. We had Georgian style pizza tonight—with tomatoes, peppers, dill, and instead of tomato sauce, mayo. Yeah, that's right. It was actually incredibly delicious. I could barely believe my taste buds. I'm not one for mayo, usually, but it was tasty. I don't know how me making this pizza thing is going to go. My mom'll have to show my how to make homemade crust, and I'll have to guess on the tomato sauce. Maybe I have a recipe in here somewhere...
But, other things. I only went to the stadium for a short time gushin (yesterday). I called Ana and worked on words with her. Verbs, like vskhovrob sakartveloshi (I live in Sakartvelo) vmushaob skolashi (I work at school) vamzadeb sachmels (I prepare food) vaketeb davalebas/khatchapuri (I do homework/make cheesybread), visveneb saklshi (I rest at home), vgegmav gaketeels (I plan lessons), vkitkhulobe tsigns (I read books), vtsair tsigns (I write books), etc. It's a good time. It's actually just about the most mentally taxing thing I've ever done. Learning this language at this rate is very wearing. And I'm not actually learning as much as I'd like.
But hopefully I can still be a good masstavlebeli without knowing Georgian superwell. And hopefully I can still do whatever I'm supposed to do here without knowing Georgian as well as I'd like. Or maybe I will learn it pretty well. Who knows? We'll have to see.
Apparently people like me, though. Last night, Tatia and I went to get milk from one of the neighbors. The bebia there offered me food, so I had a sour cream (matsoni) cake and she gave me three more. She asked if I liked matsoni, and I said yes, and she gifted us a jar of matsoni! Holy crap! When we were back eating dinner saklshi, Tatia commented that everyone seemed to like me; when we played volleyball at the stadium yesterday, there was a girl there who's staying with Lauren's family (she's a cousin or something). She'd run with Lauren and I in the morning once, and she stood next to me after the American-Georgian volleyball game. She was afraid of the ball, so I was trying to tell her to conquer her fear and just put herself out there and try to hit it (easier said than done). Just then, the ball came and smacked me square in the face. So that didn't really help my case. She left the game soon after, and I wasn't too far behind her.
But I was talking about people liking me. Tatia talked to this girl, with whom I'd maybe exchanged 10 words with (2 kartulad, 8 English), and she said she liked me and I was nice and whatnot. “Why do people like you so much?” Tatia asked. “I don't really know,” I said.
Then, today, we had TEFL training in our village. As we were going into the classroom, we passed some of the staff. One of the ladies I had attempted conversation with earlier last week—and maybe got “how are you” and “what's your name” and “no I don't want to marry a Georgian,” and she greeted me with a kiss on the cheek (it's kisstomary here). She's probably the first person other than my sisters to do that. It made me feel special. And either yesterday or the day before yesterday (gushintsin [Georgian has a word for that!]) I talked with an older lady on my way to run in the morning. And she had to ask me to repeat “how are you” because she's hard of hearing and my accent's bad, but she called me a kargi gogo, I think. A good girl, that is. Aw. : )
Also, tonight I wrote in Khatia's book of letters and drawings. She asked me to write her a letter about the good and bad of her character. I've only known her erti gvira (one week), which I told her, but she asked me to write anyway. So I did. And I drew her a dzagli (dog) smelling a sunflower, because I could. By the by, dzagli in dative case is one of the most fun words ever-- “dzaggles.” Yeah. It's pretty kickin'. Or, as we say, it's the muraba (jam)!
There was some bad, though. A couple times now, about once a week, I've felt sick to my stomach. While I love Turkish coffee, Turkish toilets are a completely different story. Using Turkish toilets when you aren't feeling well is, well, the pits. Blech. Oh, but I'm sure you all want to hear that I've not too bad an aim. Pretty darn proud of that.
There are probably other things that I wanted to write about but have forgotten. I should get to bed for tonight, anyway. I'll add onto a list of things I'd like:
Frisbees (kids just love 'em. They're not common here.)
magazines (for news and for cutting pictures out of to use in lessons)
pocket pack tissues (maybe, if I can't find them in the bigger villages/Tblisi)
cinnamon maybe
nice pens, pencils, notebooks
love
Meh, that's it for now, vpikrob.
04 July 2009
Shabati
So, just got back from the American Independence Day party. It was pretty awesome and intense. However, we were lacking the one thing that makes the 4th of July American: FIREWORKS. The Party Planning Committee and I were very disappointed. But there was lots of food: hamburgers, soyburgers, "potato salad", chips, potato pie (SO American...), peaches, apricots, watermelon, soda, ice cream sandwiches, and a birthday cake for the USA. We're 233! Yaaaay! We also had a three legged race, a water-cup-bucket race, a water balloon toss, Georgian dancing (I tried to join!), random singing of Don't Stop Believing, dodgeball, frisbee, and bunnies! It was actually a lot of fun. Great success!!
So now we're in Sagarejo. I'm gonna buy some tskali, because we won't have a hub day for two weeks again. Next week we start our summer school. I'm a little.... frightened. Not too sure how this is all gonna go down. But hopefully it'll be okay. Lesson planning is weird for me. But I think I'll get used to it.
Anyway, I'm gonna go buy that tskali (water) now, because I am parched. Lots of love!
Sunday
It's gvira today, and I think there will be much adventuring today. We're going to visit the castle finally sometime today, and we're going to a 40-day-after-funeral supra at Katelyn's place, and I want to bathe today.
And yesterday was very event-filled, as well. We had shabatis skola (Saturday school), and then lunch at Katelyn's house. Mind you, she lives like 20 minutes away from the school, uphill. And Lauren was invited to a supra in the woods type deal with a volunteer from another village and his host family and the other volunteers in the village. We hiked back to our houses, explained (sort of) what we were doing to our host families, changed clothes, and hiked down to the highway to catch a marshutka. A marshutka is a gregarious, vagarious, nefarious, but mostly precarious looking mini-van that drives between villages for a small fare; it's kind of like a cross between a bus and a taxi. There're how we roll here in Georgia. So with our limited language skills, Lauren and I managed to catch a marshutka to the right village—although, he dropped us off at the edge of town and not at the school. But all we had to do was walk up the road a ways, so it was okay. We met up with a volunteer and went to meet the family.
Limited communication is so hard. You don't want to feel like you're shunning the family, but it's so easy to talk in English and so hard to ask “rogor aris qartulad?” (how do you say this in Georgian?) every few minutes to the younger person in the group who inevitably speaks English. But we got to hike to their vineyard and garden, saw their plants, had a mini-supra in the woods, sang songs, and all was good. The bebia and another guy were amazing singers. I had my camera there, and another volunteer took pictures and a couple videos with it, so hopefully I'll get it from him sometime (I lent him my card).
So, they sang, right? And, I had brought the pictures of my friends, which showed I was in choir. So, we Americans were asked to sing. We sang the Star-Spangled Banner, because they sang what sounded like Georgia, the Beautiful. It was such an awesome time. I'm very glad we went. But we have to be back on-site by 7 every night for safety and security reasons, so we had to leave early.
Instead of catching a marshutka back, a family friend who has a car offered to drive us back. We got in their car, picked up the guy's daughter who spoke English and wanted to meet the Americans, and drove back to our village while we tried to explain to the girl that we work for the US government and aren't taking Georgian jobs. We think she thought we are taking jobs that she could have... so it was a little awkward sitting with her in the back when we turned into our village and the car broke down. Now, Lauren and I could have walked, no prob, but we wanted to make sure they would be able to make it back. Someone from Better-a helped them out, and we made our way to Lauren's place. I didn't want to have to have them drive me up to my place, so I just got off with Lauren. I'm glad that happened, because Lauren and I are on the Party Planning Committee for the 4th of July Cultural Event Day to be held next shabati, so we got some good ideas down for that.
It's gonna be awesome! We're hoping for lots of traditional American foods, like hamburgers, potato salad, baked beans, chips, ice cream sandwiches, brownies, etc. The staff will try their darndest to make it happen. We're also hoping to get some wood to make boards, a saw, and washers for Washers/Corn hole with washers, or maybe some horseshoes and stakes for Horseshoes. We'll get some inter-village competitions going on, and it'll be awesome. We get to invite two people, and I invited my two host sisters (last night during the storm when the electricity got damaged and went out). They are super excited about coming.
I really want to learn Georgian so that I know my host mom and dad don't think I'm a spazz. I want to have them teach me how to cook Georgian dishes, and I want to be able to talk with them without a translator, so that they can tell me things like how to heat up water for my bath without me feeling like an absolute idiot because I don't know what the Georgian word for “turn it off” is, so I stand there looking (and feeling helpless). Actually, the other night, I had a dream about my teeth being rotted and held together with rickety dentistry, and then they just fell out in a big chunk and my mouth gushed blood everywhere. I mean, it was pouring out by the bucketful. I think it was just a reflection of how helpless I feel, that I don't even have good, strong teeth to serve my most basic of needs.
And you never realize how much trash we as Americans create. Our group discussed it at shabati skola, and then Lauren and the others and I talked about this yesterday at the mini supra in the woods. We volunteers have barely been able to locate a single trash can in our homes. I know we have three; one under the kitchen sink, one next to the commode, and one outside somewhere. But they're all very small. Most garbage is placed deliberately on the side of the road. But, really, houses don't create that much garbage, it seems. And I feel tons guiltier about my half-an-hour showers when I take my bucket bath and don't use a whole bucket.
Anyway, speaking of which, I should go start that.
01 July, 2009
samshabati
So, I'm going to go out with my host sister in about 20 minutes, but I want to get a little journaling in before I do. Yesterday was pretty intense for me. We had our mini LPIs (language proficiency interviews). How did it go, you may wonder? Well. I wasn't awful, I suppose. But I was nowhere near being able to understand her on the first go. Or second. Or after some deliberation. So I felt pretty numb until sitting in the hot classroom talking about methods to teach English vocabulary to Georgian students just fried my brain. I got home, sat at the magida, attempted to do homework, decided that a little resting would be a good idea, then as soon as my head hit the pillow, before I knew it I was leaking like a faucet. So I sneaked down to the abazana to wash my face with some cool water ('cause it's so damn HOT in the afternoons! [and 'cause I'd made myself all hot and bothered and flushed]) and my host mom saw me looking miserable. It made it worse that I couldn't really tell her what was bothering me—because that's exactly what was bothering me! Language barriers, pardon my language, suck balls. She called Tatia in to translate my half-intelligible mumblings. But she hugged me and told Tatia to get my water, and told me to not do any studying that day. So I took some time off in my room and just lay there in my bed. I was aware-ened by an SMS from Katlyn, another volunteer, who invited me to go play frisbee with the kids at the school stadium. That jump-started me to wind up the Victrola of myself back to life and got my butt out of bed.
We went to the stadium and threw some frisbee and played some volleyball. I was coerced into an Americans vs. Georgians game. Somehow we won! Lauren and Brian and Kyle totally carried the team; Katelyn and I were just kinda there. Sometimes we helped the ball stay aloft, so that was okay. Whatevs. Then I decided to go back home. I'd told Katelyn that I had felt a little off that day, so she talked to me. She told me to keep in context how long I've been here, that I am learning, that no one becomes fluent even in 2 years, and then she told me about her communicating with her host mom last year. Sometimes... you don't need to understand the words to understand the sentiment. Tsota gavige... vpikrob.
Then she gave me a Snickers and told me to take one weekly, as needed. I think that's a pretty darn good prescription to follow.
The days are just so long, though, and simultaneously so short. I feel like I get very little done, but it takes so long to do it all.
I do feel better today. Our group's dynamic is just so that it's hard not to be happy when I'm with them, even if we're learning a ridiculously different-from-English language at a ridiculously rapid pace. Good satchmeli (food) helps, too. Mmm, kveli.
I think my sister's ready to go out. I'm not too keen on it, but it might make me feel better. I'd also like to have some tutoring with Ana tonight, too, so we'll see. Blegh!
02 July, 2009
hootshabati
The days definitely have their good and their bad. Yesterday, the good points: I talked with my host mom about coffee. She's very interested in differences between America and Sakartvelo, as are pretty much all Kartvelian people. So I told her that we have instant coffee and drip coffee. I also told her about espresso and cappuccinos, but I don't want to try to explain Starbucks. I don't understand Starbucks myself. That was actually part of our lunch conversation today; Ana asked about coffee, too. We have Turkish coffee here after every meal and whenever we visit a house and whenever I ask for it at breakfast time and randomly throughout the day sometimes. Here's how you make it:
One covsi-ful (spoon) of Turkish (VERY finely ground) kava (coffee)
One covsi-ful of shakari (sugar)
One pikrulob-ful (teacup) of water
Put all ingredients in tiny saucepan, bring just to a boil, pour in pikrulob. Enjoy with chocolates, tea cakes, cookies, biscuits, whatever. rogor tsginda.
Om nom nom. My host mom's coffee is the best. It's so thick you can almost chew it. I seriously like it. And I'm getting used to the really, really salty khveli (cheese). It's expecially good with cornbread (tchadi). I don't remember if I already wrote this, but I helped my host mom make tchadi one day! Well, all I did was form the dough that she had made into lumps and stick it in the oil. Two of them, to be exact. I know, cool, right? But hopefully I'll get to help her with more food prep, because I have a presentation about Georgian food to do at the end of PST. Actually, she said I might make pizza tomorrow night. But my sister is fasting for a religious holiday. Which means she can't eat dairy products. We had Georgian style pizza tonight—with tomatoes, peppers, dill, and instead of tomato sauce, mayo. Yeah, that's right. It was actually incredibly delicious. I could barely believe my taste buds. I'm not one for mayo, usually, but it was tasty. I don't know how me making this pizza thing is going to go. My mom'll have to show my how to make homemade crust, and I'll have to guess on the tomato sauce. Maybe I have a recipe in here somewhere...
But, other things. I only went to the stadium for a short time gushin (yesterday). I called Ana and worked on words with her. Verbs, like vskhovrob sakartveloshi (I live in Sakartvelo) vmushaob skolashi (I work at school) vamzadeb sachmels (I prepare food) vaketeb davalebas/khatchapuri (I do homework/make cheesybread), visveneb saklshi (I rest at home), vgegmav gaketeels (I plan lessons), vkitkhulobe tsigns (I read books), vtsair tsigns (I write books), etc. It's a good time. It's actually just about the most mentally taxing thing I've ever done. Learning this language at this rate is very wearing. And I'm not actually learning as much as I'd like.
But hopefully I can still be a good masstavlebeli without knowing Georgian superwell. And hopefully I can still do whatever I'm supposed to do here without knowing Georgian as well as I'd like. Or maybe I will learn it pretty well. Who knows? We'll have to see.
Apparently people like me, though. Last night, Tatia and I went to get milk from one of the neighbors. The bebia there offered me food, so I had a sour cream (matsoni) cake and she gave me three more. She asked if I liked matsoni, and I said yes, and she gifted us a jar of matsoni! Holy crap! When we were back eating dinner saklshi, Tatia commented that everyone seemed to like me; when we played volleyball at the stadium yesterday, there was a girl there who's staying with Lauren's family (she's a cousin or something). She'd run with Lauren and I in the morning once, and she stood next to me after the American-Georgian volleyball game. She was afraid of the ball, so I was trying to tell her to conquer her fear and just put herself out there and try to hit it (easier said than done). Just then, the ball came and smacked me square in the face. So that didn't really help my case. She left the game soon after, and I wasn't too far behind her.
But I was talking about people liking me. Tatia talked to this girl, with whom I'd maybe exchanged 10 words with (2 kartulad, 8 English), and she said she liked me and I was nice and whatnot. “Why do people like you so much?” Tatia asked. “I don't really know,” I said.
Then, today, we had TEFL training in our village. As we were going into the classroom, we passed some of the staff. One of the ladies I had attempted conversation with earlier last week—and maybe got “how are you” and “what's your name” and “no I don't want to marry a Georgian,” and she greeted me with a kiss on the cheek (it's kisstomary here). She's probably the first person other than my sisters to do that. It made me feel special. And either yesterday or the day before yesterday (gushintsin [Georgian has a word for that!]) I talked with an older lady on my way to run in the morning. And she had to ask me to repeat “how are you” because she's hard of hearing and my accent's bad, but she called me a kargi gogo, I think. A good girl, that is. Aw. : )
Also, tonight I wrote in Khatia's book of letters and drawings. She asked me to write her a letter about the good and bad of her character. I've only known her erti gvira (one week), which I told her, but she asked me to write anyway. So I did. And I drew her a dzagli (dog) smelling a sunflower, because I could. By the by, dzagli in dative case is one of the most fun words ever-- “dzaggles.” Yeah. It's pretty kickin'. Or, as we say, it's the muraba (jam)!
There was some bad, though. A couple times now, about once a week, I've felt sick to my stomach. While I love Turkish coffee, Turkish toilets are a completely different story. Using Turkish toilets when you aren't feeling well is, well, the pits. Blech. Oh, but I'm sure you all want to hear that I've not too bad an aim. Pretty darn proud of that.
There are probably other things that I wanted to write about but have forgotten. I should get to bed for tonight, anyway. I'll add onto a list of things I'd like:
Frisbees (kids just love 'em. They're not common here.)
magazines (for news and for cutting pictures out of to use in lessons)
pocket pack tissues (maybe, if I can't find them in the bigger villages/Tblisi)
cinnamon maybe
nice pens, pencils, notebooks
love
Meh, that's it for now, vpikrob.
04 July 2009
Shabati
So, just got back from the American Independence Day party. It was pretty awesome and intense. However, we were lacking the one thing that makes the 4th of July American: FIREWORKS. The Party Planning Committee and I were very disappointed. But there was lots of food: hamburgers, soyburgers, "potato salad", chips, potato pie (SO American...), peaches, apricots, watermelon, soda, ice cream sandwiches, and a birthday cake for the USA. We're 233! Yaaaay! We also had a three legged race, a water-cup-bucket race, a water balloon toss, Georgian dancing (I tried to join!), random singing of Don't Stop Believing, dodgeball, frisbee, and bunnies! It was actually a lot of fun. Great success!!
So now we're in Sagarejo. I'm gonna buy some tskali, because we won't have a hub day for two weeks again. Next week we start our summer school. I'm a little.... frightened. Not too sure how this is all gonna go down. But hopefully it'll be okay. Lesson planning is weird for me. But I think I'll get used to it.
Anyway, I'm gonna go buy that tskali (water) now, because I am parched. Lots of love!
Friday, June 26
Week one.
21 June, 2009
Sunday
I have now been at my host family's house for one night. I'll tell you all about them as I get to know them better. But here are a few first impressions.
They seem very well off. Although there's no running water (I'm not sure if it's broken or if they just don't have it hooked up or what; there is a tap and showerhead in the abazana (bathing room)... yeah, although there's no running water, guess what's in a room right next to the abazana and not 30 meters away from the house? That's right, a TualeTi. I have a commode! Awesome sauce! Too bad I won't be here in the winter; that would be wonderful!
Other than the facilities, the rest of the house seems very nice (dzhalian kargia [it's very good]). I'm not too sure about taking pictures quite yet; maybe when my qartveli is better, I will feel more comfortable asking. I want you to see this house, though-- it's HUGE! My room's almost as big as my room back in Iowa! And the whole place just looks kinda ritzy; they have nice heirlooms and whatnot for decoration. The house is very aged-looking and the doors don't shut easily, but it is super nice. My room doesn't have a lock, like Peace Corps promised. But I'm not worried about the security issue with the family. I trust them. And they reassured me that there was always someone at home, and when we all take a trip, the gate will be locked.
It's a good thing the house is big ) One thing, though-- there are two young girls (ori gogobuia [?]) who speak English. The older one, who either just finished or will be in ninth grade, Tatia (TAH-tee-ah), is VERY adept at speaking English. She's probably as good or better than some of our LCFs (Language-Cross Cultural Facilitators). Seriously, she's amazing. She wants to become an English teacher. I hope she thinks about working with Peace Corps. I'll fosho drop the idea to her later. The younger girl, Khatia (phlegm-tee-ah), can definitely hold her own as well. She'll probably become just as good. They're both very patient and helpful, repeating things for me a zillion times that I've already heard twelve times earlier in the same day.
Last night Tatia told me that my accent was lovely. I laughed and then wished her goodnight in the regional way (which she told me probably four times and I repeated back to her, but can't remember it for the life of me).
Clare, you might take a liking to Khatia. She LOVES Sponji (aka SpongeBob). She apparently has a shirt and a hair thing and other Sponji memorabilia, although I've only seen the shirt. I woke up shvid saatze (at seven) to go for a run in the village with Tatia, but then she didn't want to go. She warned me that she likes to go to bed late and get up late and might not want to go. She said something about there being police out so that I should just run on the balcony. So Khatia ran with me on the balcony.
Khatia tired herself out quickly (I think she just liked the novelty of running with me and asking me my favorite Amerikeli Xili/khili [American fruit (no English equivalent for that first phoneme)]), so I ran for a while longer alone, all the while counting from one (erti) to ten (arti) so that I get better at it. During orientation, when we were staying at the hotel, the first night after the language lesson I was feeling particularly freaked out. Shawn, one of the volunteers, saw me silently stewing and studying and drilled me on the numbers until I could finally say them. That was really cool of him. He also randomly called me today and we compared living situations. He can speak Russian with his host dad, but I've got Tatia da Khatia, and I also have an in-house TualeTi, wheras he does not. Bad luck! And, Mary, I already told you—he was the Catholic guy who's skeptical of the anti-demon medallion you gave me. And said you should get me a female saint one instead of Benedict or Boniface (I don't remember which it was).
Speaking of religion, Georgians are very interested in what religion you are. It was one of the first questions Tatia asked me yesterday. I embarassedly had to say “me ar religiosi var.” but “chemi ojaki qristiani aris” (I am not religious but my family is Christian). I could tell she thought I was a weirdo as she pointed out the family biblia and explained to me that in Georgia, children are the same religion as their parents.
After eating dinner Georgian style on the balcony-- well, I guess you probably want to hear about that. The food. sachmeli. The place setting is just like we're used to; tepshi, changali, dana, da khelsakhotsi) plate, fork, knife, napkin (small and always folded into a triangle). The Georgians must not really like mixing their food that much. You help yourself from each serving plate, and when your plate is dirty, they offer you a new one. The waiters at the hotel did this, and Tatia did that to me at sauzme (sow's-may [breakfast]) this morning. (which I remember by “saucing me” which, in my mind, can kind of connect to eating and/or food. Hey, whatever works, right?) And the food is GOOD. The Puri (bread) is DELISH-- (gemruelia [the food's worth a gem... works for me!]). KhatchaPuri (like a quesadilla on a pita) is om nom nom, as is lobiani, a bean-pita sandwich. Salata of pomidori da kitri (tomatoes and cucumbers with parsley[?]) is good, too. There's often jonjoli, pickled capers, which is served with pickles and what looks like the peppers that come in pizza boxes. And there's the pâté like stuff that's made of spinach or new beans aka green beans or... plum? eggplant? beet? Something purple, I forget. I think it's beets. Whatever it was, I liked it. That's sometimes got walnuts in it and such. The soco (mushrooms) are fan-freaking-tabulous. There's also a few meat dishes—cold chicken, some beef, pork with onions, and sausage-y things. I haven't really tried them because I've come out of the vegetarianeli closet finally. It's great now because it's during fasting time (I think?) when Christian Georgians don't eat much if any meat. The kh'veli (cheese) at the hotel near Tbilisi was a bit too salty for my taste, but the cheese that my host family (chemi masp'indzeli ojakhi) has is very good.
Speaking of cheese, I grated cheese and made spag'eti today! masp'indzeli dedachemi (my host mom) is about the most patient and gracious woman in the world. I can't really even understand most simple things like “help” “day” “now” and so forth, and even though I say them over and over again, I still forget things like “me mvars” (I love...) “me mqavs, ra gqvia” (I have, you have) and so on. I'm still struggling to remember the pronouns! And it takes me ten minutes before I can say “kargia” (good), “ar vitsi” (I don't know), and “ver gavige (gah-vee-gay—I didn't understand)” And I've said those things half a squintillion times already! But my host mom was patient even though I understand her as if she were talking to a brick wall. Since the translators were out with their friends, we passed around my lexiconi until she figured out I wanted to help her with lunchi, and then she trusted me in her kitchen, sort of! It was awesome. I'm so thankful that the Georgians I've met thus far are nothing but kind. (My host mom and dad, who I ate with, even said the spag'eti was gemruelia!) So it's awkward, but good.
I'm so overwhelmed with this language thing, though. I want to learn it so badly, but I don't even know how to go about doing it anymore, and I'm jetlagged and eating weird food and not able to drink tap water for three months because I might get hepatitis and I haven't been able to get good sleep the past three nights even with the aid of Benadryl (which is thankfully provided in our med kits). I hope my body starts to adjust and my brain starts to adjust. The language is the key to everything! If I don't learn it, I won't be able to communicate well without the aid of a translator (evidenced by lunchi today) and I will be in more danger, as I won't be able to understand the kids in the marshutkas (public mini-vans that run between villages).
22 June 2009
Monday
My suspicions about my family's wealth continues to grow. Today, after the first school session (four hours of language with two fifteen minute breaks), we had lunch (lunchi) at our house. Chemi megobreri were very impressed. The size of the house, the lamazia (lovely) hand-painted walls and ceilings, and the t'ualet'i all impressed them very much. The t'ualet'i impressed them most of all; after the TEFL meeting Sagaregoshi (in Sagarejo), we came back to our village and were going to walk around, but first everyone wanted to come back to my house to use the toilet.
23 June 2009
Tuesday
Yeah... last night was interesting. But the rest of yesterday Pirueli (first). (And when is my life NOT interesting?)
So, they all used the toilet here because it's better than what they have, apparently. And then we walked down past the crossroad to where Lauren's street comes to the main road, then I walked back. Oh, and Kyle walked Kaitlin home. But they got lost, and Kyle's host family called Tengo (the program director... basically the go-to guy when stuff goes wrong. Other than our resident LCF, Ana, of course. She's awesome. More on her later.)
So that went down. There was another minor crisis over the weekend. One of the guys from the neighboring village was trying to go to sleep, but the dogs were barking loudly, so he couldn't. He brought some Rite-Aid gel ear plugs, so he used them. Problem solved, right? Wrong. Not only did he not hear his alarm the next morning, but when he tried to pull out the plugs, the right one broke in half. He kept trying to get more pieces out; he only succeeded in getting small chunks and pushing the remaining chunk (though getting smaller and smaller) farther into his ear. So he called the Med staff and was sent to Tblisi. The first doctor refused to do anything about it; apparently she didn't want to touch him because he was American. So he sat in Tblisi while the head PC med lady tried to arrange things and talked about calling Washington. Tom, the mokhalise (volunteer) was nearly in tears because he thought he was going to get ET (early termination). He stayed overnight at a hotel in Tblisi, and the next day they head PC med lady took him to a Europe-wide famous specialist. The guy laughed at him. He couldn't believe the other doctor wouldn't have done such a simple operation. So the doc took some kind of ear-keeping-open mechanism, stuck it on the volunteer, and got the earplug out in five minutes. How crazy is that? The volunteer is now doing well and back, good as new.
Today skolishi (in school) we worked on survival phrases (sad aris t'ualet'i? sad aris chemi ojakhi?) Although I think if we don't know where the toilet and our rooms are by now, we'd be in big trouble. But there are some useful phrases I still need to study-- ukatscravahrgh (sorry) da tavi mt'kiva, da mutseli mt'kivai (and my head hurts, and my stomach hurts). But that's for tonight.
Yesterday I basically locked myself in my room and studied for a very long time. I tried so hard to work on reading, and I practiced saying my name is and your profession is and your last name is and so forth. I still get confused with the four k's-- soft k, hard k, soft rolled k, hard rolled k. That last one is the hardest of all. There's no English equivalent (or Spanish equivalent, for that matter.) But we have an advantage over the Georgians, too. The name “Faith” has three sounds they can't say, I guess. So cool. Lauren was feeling particularly mischievous today in school, so during our activity where we had to make up a lady's name and tell it to someone else, guess what she picked? Heh heh.
Today really was awesome. We were crazy and joking around nonstop. During lunch at Kyle's place (where we were served a wonderful feast of khinkali (meat in pastry pouches), lamb, khatchapuri, puri, kitri da pomidori, an awesome dessert that I have no idea what it was but was cut in diamonds and arranged on the plate like a big star, and like a zillion other things. They really went all out for us. But what stole the show was the Kompote. It's a type of juice made from boiled fruit (sometimes strawberries, sometimes apples, grapes, whatever). It kind of tasted like Kool-Aid. So Lauren declared that its flavor was Purplesaurus Rex. Ana, cveni LCF (our LCF) had no idea what Kool-Aid is. If you can imagine how awesome it is explaining the useless flavor names and the extravagantly silly color changing powder (of a flavor that has nothing to do with the color of the prepared liquid), the mystery flavors that you never really know what they are, and the Kool-Aid man himself to someone who's never heard of it, then you may have a slight idea of how much fun we had at lunch.
And we're all bonding really well. In our village name (there are two villages, one with the name “small” and the other “big”) instead of Patara (small [but bigger than the “big” village population-wise.. explain that one to me.]), we're gonna take to calling ourselves Better-a. Yeah, we're pretty much the coolest. We have the most gracious people, the coolest houses, the awesomest kids in all of Sakartvelo. Oh yeah.
So, quickly about Ana and my weird night last night and running this morning, and then I'm gonna go get nakh' ini chemi datan (ice cream with my sister) maghazishi (at the store). Oh yeah!
Ana, our LCF, is no doubt the best. She has really pretty black, bushy hair that last week she let free but this week has tamed, which is quite sad. We told her so today. She's got a BA in English and an MA in Linguistics and is from the west side of Sakartvelo. And she's incredibly nice and helpful, as much as any Kartveli I've met (except maybe chemi ojakh'i [my fam]). And she's only 22.
Last night, after locking myself in my room all day and studying, I texted one of the guys, and he called me back and we chatted for a while about significant others and Georgian wine. It was rather interesting.
And this morning I ran Laurendan da mati dzadan (with Lauren and her brother). He's maybe five or so and barely spoke two words to me. I think he said gamarjobot (hello) but that's about it. Hopefully we'll do this every morning. Or maybe yoga some mornings, like I did yesterday.
Allright, to the nakh'ini! Woot woot! Until next time! Bollomde!
26 June, 2009
Friday
Well, I didn't get nakh'ini that day, but I got it yesterday afternoon at school break with Lauren. It was delicious, naturally.
And last night I tried a little bit of homemade whiskey/coffee liqueur that my host mom made. It was delish, too! Also, my bebia made a type of caramel sauce with grape juice and flour. I don't remember what it was called, but you eat it with walnuts. I liked it a lot. I tried to help crack the walnuts, but the first one I did spilled all over the floor, so we laughed at my incompetence and then I just helped separate the shells from the nuts. I think my host mom thinks I'm rather incompetent.... it's just the language barrier, I swear!
And I tried the cherries, alubali. AND I washed my laundry yesterday. It went rather well. Hooray!
Um, we had hub day today in Sagarejo. I'm hopefully going to get to post today, but the net is SLOOOOOOOOW! So maybe not.
Okay, I think I will have time.
I'm a bit distracted by the slow internet and can't think of anything else to include right now, so I'll just leave you with an “until next time!”
Hope you're all doing well. I have my good moments and bad moments, but I think it's going to be kargi.
Love!
Oh... things I may want/need:
cocoa
anti-demon medal
notebooks? The ones here are kinda weird.
Carefree, Stayfree, and OB. Eventually.
Crest Pro-health, eventually. My toothpaste decided to explode on the plane to Philly.
If I think of anything else, I'll letcha know. Thanks! <3
Sunday
I have now been at my host family's house for one night. I'll tell you all about them as I get to know them better. But here are a few first impressions.
They seem very well off. Although there's no running water (I'm not sure if it's broken or if they just don't have it hooked up or what; there is a tap and showerhead in the abazana (bathing room)... yeah, although there's no running water, guess what's in a room right next to the abazana and not 30 meters away from the house? That's right, a TualeTi. I have a commode! Awesome sauce! Too bad I won't be here in the winter; that would be wonderful!
Other than the facilities, the rest of the house seems very nice (dzhalian kargia [it's very good]). I'm not too sure about taking pictures quite yet; maybe when my qartveli is better, I will feel more comfortable asking. I want you to see this house, though-- it's HUGE! My room's almost as big as my room back in Iowa! And the whole place just looks kinda ritzy; they have nice heirlooms and whatnot for decoration. The house is very aged-looking and the doors don't shut easily, but it is super nice. My room doesn't have a lock, like Peace Corps promised. But I'm not worried about the security issue with the family. I trust them. And they reassured me that there was always someone at home, and when we all take a trip, the gate will be locked.
It's a good thing the house is big ) One thing, though-- there are two young girls (ori gogobuia [?]) who speak English. The older one, who either just finished or will be in ninth grade, Tatia (TAH-tee-ah), is VERY adept at speaking English. She's probably as good or better than some of our LCFs (Language-Cross Cultural Facilitators). Seriously, she's amazing. She wants to become an English teacher. I hope she thinks about working with Peace Corps. I'll fosho drop the idea to her later. The younger girl, Khatia (phlegm-tee-ah), can definitely hold her own as well. She'll probably become just as good. They're both very patient and helpful, repeating things for me a zillion times that I've already heard twelve times earlier in the same day.
Last night Tatia told me that my accent was lovely. I laughed and then wished her goodnight in the regional way (which she told me probably four times and I repeated back to her, but can't remember it for the life of me).
Clare, you might take a liking to Khatia. She LOVES Sponji (aka SpongeBob). She apparently has a shirt and a hair thing and other Sponji memorabilia, although I've only seen the shirt. I woke up shvid saatze (at seven) to go for a run in the village with Tatia, but then she didn't want to go. She warned me that she likes to go to bed late and get up late and might not want to go. She said something about there being police out so that I should just run on the balcony. So Khatia ran with me on the balcony.
Khatia tired herself out quickly (I think she just liked the novelty of running with me and asking me my favorite Amerikeli Xili/khili [American fruit (no English equivalent for that first phoneme)]), so I ran for a while longer alone, all the while counting from one (erti) to ten (arti) so that I get better at it. During orientation, when we were staying at the hotel, the first night after the language lesson I was feeling particularly freaked out. Shawn, one of the volunteers, saw me silently stewing and studying and drilled me on the numbers until I could finally say them. That was really cool of him. He also randomly called me today and we compared living situations. He can speak Russian with his host dad, but I've got Tatia da Khatia, and I also have an in-house TualeTi, wheras he does not. Bad luck! And, Mary, I already told you—he was the Catholic guy who's skeptical of the anti-demon medallion you gave me. And said you should get me a female saint one instead of Benedict or Boniface (I don't remember which it was).
Speaking of religion, Georgians are very interested in what religion you are. It was one of the first questions Tatia asked me yesterday. I embarassedly had to say “me ar religiosi var.” but “chemi ojaki qristiani aris” (I am not religious but my family is Christian). I could tell she thought I was a weirdo as she pointed out the family biblia and explained to me that in Georgia, children are the same religion as their parents.
After eating dinner Georgian style on the balcony-- well, I guess you probably want to hear about that. The food. sachmeli. The place setting is just like we're used to; tepshi, changali, dana, da khelsakhotsi) plate, fork, knife, napkin (small and always folded into a triangle). The Georgians must not really like mixing their food that much. You help yourself from each serving plate, and when your plate is dirty, they offer you a new one. The waiters at the hotel did this, and Tatia did that to me at sauzme (sow's-may [breakfast]) this morning. (which I remember by “saucing me” which, in my mind, can kind of connect to eating and/or food. Hey, whatever works, right?) And the food is GOOD. The Puri (bread) is DELISH-- (gemruelia [the food's worth a gem... works for me!]). KhatchaPuri (like a quesadilla on a pita) is om nom nom, as is lobiani, a bean-pita sandwich. Salata of pomidori da kitri (tomatoes and cucumbers with parsley[?]) is good, too. There's often jonjoli, pickled capers, which is served with pickles and what looks like the peppers that come in pizza boxes. And there's the pâté like stuff that's made of spinach or new beans aka green beans or... plum? eggplant? beet? Something purple, I forget. I think it's beets. Whatever it was, I liked it. That's sometimes got walnuts in it and such. The soco (mushrooms) are fan-freaking-tabulous. There's also a few meat dishes—cold chicken, some beef, pork with onions, and sausage-y things. I haven't really tried them because I've come out of the vegetarianeli closet finally. It's great now because it's during fasting time (I think?) when Christian Georgians don't eat much if any meat. The kh'veli (cheese) at the hotel near Tbilisi was a bit too salty for my taste, but the cheese that my host family (chemi masp'indzeli ojakhi) has is very good.
Speaking of cheese, I grated cheese and made spag'eti today! masp'indzeli dedachemi (my host mom) is about the most patient and gracious woman in the world. I can't really even understand most simple things like “help” “day” “now” and so forth, and even though I say them over and over again, I still forget things like “me mvars” (I love...) “me mqavs, ra gqvia” (I have, you have) and so on. I'm still struggling to remember the pronouns! And it takes me ten minutes before I can say “kargia” (good), “ar vitsi” (I don't know), and “ver gavige (gah-vee-gay—I didn't understand)” And I've said those things half a squintillion times already! But my host mom was patient even though I understand her as if she were talking to a brick wall. Since the translators were out with their friends, we passed around my lexiconi until she figured out I wanted to help her with lunchi, and then she trusted me in her kitchen, sort of! It was awesome. I'm so thankful that the Georgians I've met thus far are nothing but kind. (My host mom and dad, who I ate with, even said the spag'eti was gemruelia!) So it's awkward, but good.
I'm so overwhelmed with this language thing, though. I want to learn it so badly, but I don't even know how to go about doing it anymore, and I'm jetlagged and eating weird food and not able to drink tap water for three months because I might get hepatitis and I haven't been able to get good sleep the past three nights even with the aid of Benadryl (which is thankfully provided in our med kits). I hope my body starts to adjust and my brain starts to adjust. The language is the key to everything! If I don't learn it, I won't be able to communicate well without the aid of a translator (evidenced by lunchi today) and I will be in more danger, as I won't be able to understand the kids in the marshutkas (public mini-vans that run between villages).
22 June 2009
Monday
My suspicions about my family's wealth continues to grow. Today, after the first school session (four hours of language with two fifteen minute breaks), we had lunch (lunchi) at our house. Chemi megobreri were very impressed. The size of the house, the lamazia (lovely) hand-painted walls and ceilings, and the t'ualet'i all impressed them very much. The t'ualet'i impressed them most of all; after the TEFL meeting Sagaregoshi (in Sagarejo), we came back to our village and were going to walk around, but first everyone wanted to come back to my house to use the toilet.
23 June 2009
Tuesday
Yeah... last night was interesting. But the rest of yesterday Pirueli (first). (And when is my life NOT interesting?)
So, they all used the toilet here because it's better than what they have, apparently. And then we walked down past the crossroad to where Lauren's street comes to the main road, then I walked back. Oh, and Kyle walked Kaitlin home. But they got lost, and Kyle's host family called Tengo (the program director... basically the go-to guy when stuff goes wrong. Other than our resident LCF, Ana, of course. She's awesome. More on her later.)
So that went down. There was another minor crisis over the weekend. One of the guys from the neighboring village was trying to go to sleep, but the dogs were barking loudly, so he couldn't. He brought some Rite-Aid gel ear plugs, so he used them. Problem solved, right? Wrong. Not only did he not hear his alarm the next morning, but when he tried to pull out the plugs, the right one broke in half. He kept trying to get more pieces out; he only succeeded in getting small chunks and pushing the remaining chunk (though getting smaller and smaller) farther into his ear. So he called the Med staff and was sent to Tblisi. The first doctor refused to do anything about it; apparently she didn't want to touch him because he was American. So he sat in Tblisi while the head PC med lady tried to arrange things and talked about calling Washington. Tom, the mokhalise (volunteer) was nearly in tears because he thought he was going to get ET (early termination). He stayed overnight at a hotel in Tblisi, and the next day they head PC med lady took him to a Europe-wide famous specialist. The guy laughed at him. He couldn't believe the other doctor wouldn't have done such a simple operation. So the doc took some kind of ear-keeping-open mechanism, stuck it on the volunteer, and got the earplug out in five minutes. How crazy is that? The volunteer is now doing well and back, good as new.
Today skolishi (in school) we worked on survival phrases (sad aris t'ualet'i? sad aris chemi ojakhi?) Although I think if we don't know where the toilet and our rooms are by now, we'd be in big trouble. But there are some useful phrases I still need to study-- ukatscravahrgh (sorry) da tavi mt'kiva, da mutseli mt'kivai (and my head hurts, and my stomach hurts). But that's for tonight.
Yesterday I basically locked myself in my room and studied for a very long time. I tried so hard to work on reading, and I practiced saying my name is and your profession is and your last name is and so forth. I still get confused with the four k's-- soft k, hard k, soft rolled k, hard rolled k. That last one is the hardest of all. There's no English equivalent (or Spanish equivalent, for that matter.) But we have an advantage over the Georgians, too. The name “Faith” has three sounds they can't say, I guess. So cool. Lauren was feeling particularly mischievous today in school, so during our activity where we had to make up a lady's name and tell it to someone else, guess what she picked? Heh heh.
Today really was awesome. We were crazy and joking around nonstop. During lunch at Kyle's place (where we were served a wonderful feast of khinkali (meat in pastry pouches), lamb, khatchapuri, puri, kitri da pomidori, an awesome dessert that I have no idea what it was but was cut in diamonds and arranged on the plate like a big star, and like a zillion other things. They really went all out for us. But what stole the show was the Kompote. It's a type of juice made from boiled fruit (sometimes strawberries, sometimes apples, grapes, whatever). It kind of tasted like Kool-Aid. So Lauren declared that its flavor was Purplesaurus Rex. Ana, cveni LCF (our LCF) had no idea what Kool-Aid is. If you can imagine how awesome it is explaining the useless flavor names and the extravagantly silly color changing powder (of a flavor that has nothing to do with the color of the prepared liquid), the mystery flavors that you never really know what they are, and the Kool-Aid man himself to someone who's never heard of it, then you may have a slight idea of how much fun we had at lunch.
And we're all bonding really well. In our village name (there are two villages, one with the name “small” and the other “big”) instead of Patara (small [but bigger than the “big” village population-wise.. explain that one to me.]), we're gonna take to calling ourselves Better-a. Yeah, we're pretty much the coolest. We have the most gracious people, the coolest houses, the awesomest kids in all of Sakartvelo. Oh yeah.
So, quickly about Ana and my weird night last night and running this morning, and then I'm gonna go get nakh' ini chemi datan (ice cream with my sister) maghazishi (at the store). Oh yeah!
Ana, our LCF, is no doubt the best. She has really pretty black, bushy hair that last week she let free but this week has tamed, which is quite sad. We told her so today. She's got a BA in English and an MA in Linguistics and is from the west side of Sakartvelo. And she's incredibly nice and helpful, as much as any Kartveli I've met (except maybe chemi ojakh'i [my fam]). And she's only 22.
Last night, after locking myself in my room all day and studying, I texted one of the guys, and he called me back and we chatted for a while about significant others and Georgian wine. It was rather interesting.
And this morning I ran Laurendan da mati dzadan (with Lauren and her brother). He's maybe five or so and barely spoke two words to me. I think he said gamarjobot (hello) but that's about it. Hopefully we'll do this every morning. Or maybe yoga some mornings, like I did yesterday.
Allright, to the nakh'ini! Woot woot! Until next time! Bollomde!
26 June, 2009
Friday
Well, I didn't get nakh'ini that day, but I got it yesterday afternoon at school break with Lauren. It was delicious, naturally.
And last night I tried a little bit of homemade whiskey/coffee liqueur that my host mom made. It was delish, too! Also, my bebia made a type of caramel sauce with grape juice and flour. I don't remember what it was called, but you eat it with walnuts. I liked it a lot. I tried to help crack the walnuts, but the first one I did spilled all over the floor, so we laughed at my incompetence and then I just helped separate the shells from the nuts. I think my host mom thinks I'm rather incompetent.... it's just the language barrier, I swear!
And I tried the cherries, alubali. AND I washed my laundry yesterday. It went rather well. Hooray!
Um, we had hub day today in Sagarejo. I'm hopefully going to get to post today, but the net is SLOOOOOOOOW! So maybe not.
Okay, I think I will have time.
I'm a bit distracted by the slow internet and can't think of anything else to include right now, so I'll just leave you with an “until next time!”
Hope you're all doing well. I have my good moments and bad moments, but I think it's going to be kargi.
Love!
Oh... things I may want/need:
cocoa
anti-demon medal
notebooks? The ones here are kinda weird.
Carefree, Stayfree, and OB. Eventually.
Crest Pro-health, eventually. My toothpaste decided to explode on the plane to Philly.
If I think of anything else, I'll letcha know. Thanks! <3
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