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.)