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 we planned 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.