I did promise..

And though I'm getting to be flaky and irresponsible (hey, it comes with the go-with-the-flow way of life here.  I'm just doing my job by integrating?), there's still a kernel of I-should-get-this-done.

Plus, when I talked with the Country Director today about the possibility of extending service, he suggested I write in my blog, as I haven't for a long while.
And it's true.  I've been here, there and everywhere, and no amount of me sitting in one place has inspired me to write a blog entry.

Among the things I've been busy with:

Teacher Technology Training,
aka Trying to Make Lightning Strike the Same Place Twice
Trying to get the second wave of the Technology Training underway.  It's tough when A) My right-hand woman-and-translator's no longer participating, B) My other right-hand (left-hand??) woman is a little flakier and not as proficient in English, C) I lost motivation because the teacher-trainees lost motivation.  But there's the seed of desire in the star pupil from the last group.  I orchestrated a meeting with her and my left-hand woman finally last week, and it came to a stalemate over who should be in the next group, teachers or doctors who expressed interest.  We'll see.

Daily Work as Assistant to the ICT Manager
Speaking of Technology, general computer maintenance/fixing/IT girl-being... I have burned ISO images to CDs, messed with partitions, reinstalled Windows, swept away a squintillion viruses from every computer and then again, and learned Ana's secret method of cleaning memory (pencil erasers?!) in the lab at school.  She needs to ask the computer guy in Kwareli if we have permission to actually reinstall Windows, because one computer suddenly started saying something about no monitor driver for Windows, and another shuts off with no notice every once in a while.

I'm Ms. Fix-it?
Yesterday I was also Rich American In-Village IT Girl and Obligatory Food Repository for one of the teachers.  She held me captive in her kitchen for day-after-birthday-feast food and coffee, even after telling her I had just eaten before coming to her house (which was the case).  THEN I spent a few hours installing an antivirus, Georgian fonts, and OpenOffice on her computer (all in Russian; that was fun) and attempted to teach her how to use them in Georgian.  If she actually listened to me, she should now understand, but we'll see how that goes.

As Far As Laptops Go, 5 Years Ain't No Spring Katami...
My own computer's been on the fritz, as well.  The stupid magti modem's been a thorn in my computer for some time now, mainly because (I hypothesize) it's USB based, and I tried to install a program to block USB devices from automatically opening (because they've all got friggen viruses here!).  Since that turned out to be more of an annoyance than a help, I uninstalled the program.  It was still acting weird, so I tried to fix up stuff on the registry myself and with a free registry cleaner.  Three or so days ago Trent gave me a blue screen of death.  I took it to the neighbors' and he opened it up (I can't use a screwdriver because I'm a girl) and we cleaned out surprisingly little dust.  I then did Windows recovery, am back to Service Pack 1, and am currently trying to sort through my stuff and back it up on 10 lari's worth of double sided DVDs (as I lack an external).  Then I can hopefully just do a clean swipe and reinstall SP3.  Though I fear Trent is is danger of Fading Out soon, so I may or may not be scanning the Interwebs for an investment I didn't want to make until I got readjusment allowance.

Conference Time!
Backtracking and changing topics, I also attended the All Volunteer conference in a center outside of Tbilisi.  Every PCV in Georgia was there, the noobs for Language a few days before us old hands arrived.   Then, the real party began as we went over safety and security policies, held committee elections, and taught each other cool stuff with volunteer-led session day.  I held a yoga session with a fellow Iowan (w00t!) and, though very different from my usual style of "strike-a-pose-and-hold-it-for-like-2-minutes", went okay.  Then we had our early Thanksgiving feast, with all volunteers, staff, and the Ambassador.  He's such a cool guy.  He walked in with our Country Director, came over and greeted me with, "Hi, Paula!  How've you been?" Me: "Ehhh.. okay." Him: "Spend too long in the village?"  More like lack of sleep, but you'll have that.  Also, I was stressed because I was supposed to arrange the G9s' contributions to the Thanksgiving feast, but I really didn't do all that much, and I'm pretty sure one of the G10s in charge was POed at me because I forgot to buy aluminum foil.  Well, what are you gonna do?  Some people just don't like me, and that's all there is to that.  All in all, it was good to see people again and chat with the PC Response (short-term assignment after service) Volunteers, but it was exhausting.

Birthday Bash or Banya?  Both!
And a birthday the day after the conference didn't help much.  Luckily I stayed with an awesome couple doing some research for Fulbright and English teaching, and managed to avoid the detrimental chaos that ensued.  I got the best of both worlds: watching the ridiculous beer pong 9 game winning streak, then heading out to the banya to relax when the party moved to the wild and crazy club scene.  I sorta returned the favor playing hostess this weekend; they were guests here, and I had fun showing them around the village and meeting my friends and coworkers and such.

Things that annoy me:

• My camera won't turn on.
• A creepy 50-some-year old Georgian man who noticed a young American girl stuck in the backseat of the marshutka, just trying to read A Clockwork Orange, and continually harassed her and asked for her phone number and was generally impertinent.
• No one on this marshutka, from my village, spoke up, even though I was yelling and freaking out, all in Georgian.  Seriously.
• After All Vol, someone unknown has what was formerly my cinnamon, ranch packets, and curry powder.  Life without spices is a life not worth living.
• I got Intermediate High on my Georgian LPI.  Haven't I wasted more of my life than that on learning this ridiculously difficult language?
• Private students from 3-10 every day makes it hard to plan even with the most motivated of partner teachers.  And planning with two counterparts basically means I'm never at home, because planning is NEVER at my place, and half of planning time consists of eating and/or watching them do other things.

Things that are kinda cool:

• Teaching my 8th graders "Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar?" for Past Simple and making them write alibis in Past Continuous and get witnesses to sign for them.
• Some planning with Ana.  It's half and half.
• Working on both Appropriate Projects (getting running water for the school) and Darien Books (getting English books for the school).  Writing = Please, give us things, for we have them not!
• Dirt cups with the family tonight!!!

So, yes, I'm thinking about extending.  But there are many things to think about, my personal hygiene/living situation happiness being one of them.  It really is the little things.  No showers, no salads, no DDR.  And I can't live in a little town with like 3 friends, all of whom have kids, forever.  If only I'd nerded out more as a child and wasted more time taking apart computers, I might have a job elsewhere...

Now that it's 2 AM, however, I think I'll take this opportunity and sign out.

I'll post soon, I promise...

I know the masses are screaming for more fun, witty tales of my sxovreba in Georgia, and I'm not one to make people mad at me.  Not even teachers who will never lesson plan with me and so I dropped classes with her.  Still trying to be her friend.  Call it peacemaker, call it people pleasing, I just like everyone to be happy, especially when they're around me.

But though I'm suffering from a slight touch of the insomnia tonight, you just get the teaser.  I'm gonna lie in bed and pretend the world doesn't exist right now.

I probably won't have time to write tomorrow.  We're prepping food for the funeral Thursday, that of Shorena's grandma.  That woman always asked about me and blessed me the traditional Georgian "grow up! be happy!" in such a sincere manner that if the occasional "get married!" was thrown in there, too, I didn't mind so much.  Here's to you.

A few other headlines:

Hopefully we'll have some Halloween activities underway.

Ambivalent about computer courses, wave 2, with indefinite start date. Hm.

A committee of 3 including me are coordinating the planning/buying/making of the Thanksgiving dinner at the all-volunteer conference in 2 weeks.

Lab remonti hopefully underway soon with program pointers from tech saavy folk.  Also, there's this: Free educational and/or computer games for kids! Win!!!

Magda wrote a test for the 5th graders on the computer and printed it out on our NEW PRINTER.  Totally all by herself because I was gone.  She rocks my world.

Back from CR! And Kobuleti! And my birthday! And depression! Back to school!!

From over a month ago:


Okay, okay, so I haven't posted for a month now.  But I defend my slacking in that my main reader was hanging out with me for part of that time.

Of course, I've been back from the family vacation for a while, and there's really no good excuse to why I haven't posted except that I've been really bummed and also freaking out about this project lately.  But I'll get to that.  First news of the trip of awesome!

Mom and Dad arrived EARLY Friday morning, most of the time waiting which I spent being a sorry excuse for a city guide for some neighboring country PCVs who were staying at the Nika.  Then at the airport, pacing back and forth and trying to get a spot among the Georgians waiting for their loved ones to arrive.  We were quickly whisked away by Jenora's taxi driver neighbor, caught a few hours rest, then walked (pretty aimlessly; like I said, I'm not much of a guide) around the city until my host dad/brother picked us up later that evening, much to my parents' delight.  If you're still unfamiliar with Georgian driving, ask my dad to tell you all about it, which hopefully proves to be not just a traumatic reminder but a good therapy session for him, or see this wonderfully written post describing the Georgian Rules of the Road.

Anyway, traveling around Georgia actually went pretty smoothly.  Nothing too unexpected or out of the norm here.  We did go to the graveyard, which was pretty cool for Mom the Genealogy Nut.  She's been taking me to graveyards since I was a little squirt, showing me how to lay the butcher paper on the gravestones just so, peel the wrapper off the crayon, and rub the crayon sideways until the name and dates magically appeared on the butcher paper in cerulean or mulberry.

But the real genealogy was later, in the Czech Republic.  I'll get to that.

In Georgia, however, don't think family wasn't present.  Yes, I was exhausted from translating, but I found I didn't need to every second; my mom and Shorena both have that sixth sense or feminine intuition, call it what you will, that sometimes the situation was thus:
Mom: I bet this thing does this because of this.
Shorena, to me, in Georgian: Did she just say this thing does this because of this?
Me: HALLELUJAH.


And, now, to the present.  Yes, the visit was wonderful.  Yes, translating was exhausting.  Yes, eating 24/7 was exhausting.  Yes, Ana in Baghdati is such an amazing hostess and friend I can't begin to thank her enough.  Surprisingly no, no accidents were had due to Georgian driving.

You know, in retrospect the amount of eating we did was partially due to the fact that we visited places of food production (beehives, vineyard, watermelon garden...) and partially due to the fact that the only thing mutually comprehensible that both families could do with their mouths beyond making a gamarjobat and hello come out of them was to shove something edible in them.  Why not?

Needless to say, the amazing adventure in the villages of CR and Prague restored my belief in the existence of flush toilets.  Also seeing the site of where my great-grandma was born was pretty cool.  Not only that, the mayor of the village (who drives a four-wheeler to work) gave us a book about the history of the village (which also has its own WEBSITE.), which revealed the village paid for some of my relatives to go to America... which is really weird.

Also weird was the bone church at Kutná Hora.  But you've already seen pictures on Stalkernet.

When we went to the other (west) side of the CR, after a long pilgrimage back and forth from village to village on a rainy day when we were just about to give up, we ended up in the house of a lady who may or may not be related to us.  She fed us awesome Chodsky kolache, a specialty pastry of the region, some turkish kava, and brought out dress after dress, nay, COMPLETE outfit sets of traditional Czech kroj, of which I got the honor of trying on one or two.  About which she commented, "If this were to be yours, I'd have to take it in a lot, or you'd have to eat into it."  People!!

Of Prague there's not much to tell but pretending to be a tour guide for my parents, getting lost on trams, finding delicious Czech pastries and an amazing teahouse, the cute bartender at the place across from the hotel, the fun little ghost tour, and, best of all, wandering off to gorgeous and tourist-free Vyšehrad.

Next time I go, more time will be spent at that magical castle where no one goes, dinner at At the Ropemaker's Wife bar, more delicious pastries, more talking with the locals, taking a train or two into the countryside, and chillin' in the country where I, the anti-beer-ist, can enjoy a pint.


For a while I was super depressed after the amazing vacation.  Going back from Candyland to the Twilight Zone was no walk in the park.  Heck, they don't exist in the Newvillage.  BUT!  What the Newvillage does have to offer now are computer trainings for teachers!

These computer trainings have been a pain, but they're getting something done, and I feel like living again, most of the time.  School has started, grape harvest has been missed multiple times, and I'm teaching with Magda and Ana (not Lia or Nino... long story.).  But you've already read a novel.  Go have a rest (daisvene!), and I'll write later.  Besides, gotta go lesson plan.

Because everyone else is doing it.

First off, I totally believe in doing things because everyone else is.  It's a great authenticator and makes you feel good about yourself afterward, especially if the crowd mentality persuaded you to do something against your guiding principles or even just something you didn't really want to do.

From a Spanish soap: "Paula is not a happy person, she is a depressive person." D :  And I thought there was no truth in these stupid things!

Although I'm working for change.  Little by little.  I keep thinking about how our habits really are who we are, because if we do something enough times, we and others abstract it into a permanent personality trait.  Continuity of self is an interesting concept, but I don't quite buy it.  Thus, it's a hard battle to change who I have been, because the more something has been built into me, the more likely I am to do it in the future.  In other words, the more times in the past I get frustrated and put myself in a foul mood and don't enjoy a day, the harder it is to simply tell myself to be in a good mood, because it's probably not a big deal anyway, and people don't actually find me annoying (except when I'm in a bad mood.  oops.).

Also, it's hard not to worry about the future when you don't know what you enjoy doing most of all.  Hm.  Even thinking about it makes me want to curl up into a ball and ignore the rest of the world for the rest of my life.

Maybe I can get paid for being a Renaissance Woman.  Alex, that totally has already worked out for you, right?  <_<


In current events, I got to be in the same room as the Secretary of State yesterday for like 15 minutes after being locked in that same room for like an hour and being free to move between that room and the hall for about 2.  WIN!

Also, it was 50 degrees Celsius yesterday.  For those of you too lazy to get out your converters, that's 122 degrees Fahrenheit.  On top of that, we didn't have water for a couple days.  Fun.  And good smelling!

At least the Fourth was filled with fun and freedom. I got to watch the Georgian girls softball team play some 'mericans.  Others have better accounts of how intense this was, but let me say they're the only softball team in the country.  And the victory was an easy one.  About as easy as learning how to conjugate the verb "bring" in Georgian, taking into account giver, receiver, tense, and whether the object being brought is alive or not.  After the game was delish salad and Turkish coffee and Hearts at the Bavarian place.

Much traveling has been going down to Borjomi and back again these past few weeks, one of which included a stay at an "orphanage," many which included walks in Borjomi Spring Park, and all of which made me want to stay there in the relatively cool temperatures and mosquitoless nights.  One also included a four-hour train ride from Borjomi to Tbilisi, after which I tried to meet up with partiers celebrating a volunteer's birthday.  When I got off the metro, feeling pretty low after anticlimactic events of the weekend, I pulled out my phone to ask about the location of the bar everyone was at that I'd never been to and didn't remember the name of, only to discover that it had died.  Fantastic.  I walked around in a tizzy, weighing the option of going back to the hostel before the public transportation stopped going for the night, and finally asked the clerk at the local Populi supermarket if they had a charging station (found at some of them).  Failing that, she arranged for her coworker to charge it on her personal charger for five minutes while I waited at a table with a sketchy Georgian dude.  I finally met up with the others, and went for a stress-shwarma run.  There, when I ranted to a curious young Georgian couple about the ludicrousness of conjugating the verb "to call", they bought me my shwarma!  Win!  Also hanging out with the birthday girl was pretty sweet.

With a cross-Georgian and Czech Republic trek with the parents coming up, it's pretty safe to say I'm PUMPED.  Can't wait to see you, mommy and daddy. <3  Modit!!!

Okay, off to do my second attempt at yoga at the stadium.  First time, last week: no constituents, so I left.  This time, I'm doin' it, whether other people are interested or not.  Gotta keep my weird American status, somehow ya know?

Peace!

Summer rains, you can never predict 'em.

Dear employer,

This letter is to explain the lack of position title for my work experience post-graduation.
I've just spent over a year in Georgia.  My official title was Peace Corps English Education Volunteer; however, considering the various roles I played, I hesitate to limit my job description to those five words.  Before I left the United States, I never imagined the titles I can now put on my CV.  Among these unanticipated titles are the following:

-Pizza Caterer
-Resident IT Expert
-IT Training Leader
-Shoe Washer
-Birthday Card Manufacturer
-Pants Hole Mender
-Kahlua, Creme Liqueur, and Raspberry Liqueur Preparer
-Toast Leader in Georgian
-Impromptu Entertainer (Singing, Dancing)

-Guest of Honor (this IS a job.)\

-Child Psychological Advisor
-Untrained Clinical Psychologist
-Grape, Mulberry, and Raspberry Harvester
-5K Runner
-Yoga Instructor
-Mathematics English-to-Georgian Translator
-High School Diploma Scribe

Considering the variety and dissimilarity of these roles, I decided to leave my job title for this period blank.  I hope I can earn at least half as many surprise job titles when working with you.

Thank you for your consideration.

Paula

Have you ever peed on a bee? And other tales of a Georgian summer.

Aaaand it's like a week later again and I never finished my blog post.  But I think that's an accurate representation of what I've been feeling lately: bits and pieces cobbled together, seeing how long I can hold out before going to the bazari again for a 40 tetri screw (since I'm missing a few of those) to make me last for a few more weeks.

So it goes.

Speaking of which, went to a samdzimare (wake) this month for the 10th grade homeroom teacher's husband.  He was only like 60.  I also helped with food prep for the neighbor guy who died a week later, former friend of my host grandpa and grandpa one of my 5th graders (and probably one of my 4th graders?)

To clarify: when I say I got robbed at the Nike store, I'm referring to the criminally high price.  No actual forceful taking of money by guns has happened to me.

The "job shadowing" last weekend went okay.  I feel like I really live up to being called "Mas" after Friday: 5% CP support
+ 0% CP informing on where students are in book ever
+ 30% concrete followed lesson plan
+ 100+° F weather.

You can imagine how much learning went on.  The one redeemable thing from the lesson, which featured an attempted future-with-will fortune-teller roleplay:
6th grade boy: "Will I be womens' liker?"

Good things from the visit include:

• pizza, brownies, and ice cream cake.  For breakfast.
• wine tasting.
• chillin' and morale talk on Ilia's Gora (hill).
• Polish horseshoes in the Kwa park.

Not Desirable Things Ever include:

• Truth or Dare
• Bustin' a move with the seniors on their banqeti (banquet) on Friday and hurtin' my left foot.  It's hurt for about a week and a half.  Daily ibuprophen, muscle gel, and an ankle brace later, I think I'm finally ready to run again.

In other news:

The students of this village are incredibly talented, dramawise.  4th graders had a "zeimi" (event) for their graduation today, which was cute.  And we had a "kaveini", sort of like a variety show, in Kvareli a couple Thursdays ago.  Bless the 10th graders' hearts, they don't study English worth a damn, but their comedic timing is amazing.  The first schools' piece was also better than Kvareli me-2 skola and Shilda, which was mainly a couple-kid-spotlight with the rest just there.  Which goes to show how things go down here:  One or two star pupils, who know all the answers in two seconds, are encouraged and participate in the lesson, and to hell with the rest of them.  The strong get stronger, the weak get weaker, and the teachers wonder why they're cursed with stupid children.  Betcha can't resolve that apparent discrepancy.

Sorry, I'm starting to try to study for the GRE.  Can ya tell?  I'm thinking maybe linguistics, something about how we use different language for stories, aka we have some kind of a "storytelling mode."  You can tell when someone's gonna launch into a long-winded anecdote.  Usually even if you don't know the language they're speaking.  I think that's cool.  So I wonder if there's something universal to it; tribes used to have master storytellers and stuff.  And today there are still people in every neck of the woods who haz l33t yarn-spinnin' 5killz (and those who don't).  Hmm.

Also, health translator sounds like something I could get into.  That or maybe Fulbright.  Or maybe going back to school for nursing.  Or maybe going to school for computer things.  Or maybe just being a student for life.

I'm interested in health, but I'm kind of feeling sickly all over.  Gimp ankle, sore throat, digestive things, mosquito bites complementing my tattoo and everywhere, and just a general feeling of blah.  I think it's the I've-just-spent-a-whole-year-in-Georgia-and-what-am-I-gonna-do-this-summer blues.

Speaking of which, I've finally let it slip to my host mom and counterpart teacher that I've got a tattoo.  Responses varied from "People have those in the capital and not here, but don't worry about hiding it," to "Hah!  And the older teachers think you have ankle problems because you always wear socks or tights."

I'm gonna keep wearing socks to school because it's a professional setting (relatively speaking) and you can't show off tattoos in the states in professional settings, either, generally.  But walking around the village is fair game.

Speaking of which, I'm pretty much done being cordial to everyone I meet.  Whoops.  While at first conversations like the following are charming:

Georgian: Are you Georgian?

Me: No. I'm American

Georgian: Do you understand Georgian?

Me: A little.  I'm learning.

Georgian: Maladets (Good job, in Russian.)  Why are you going to Akhalsopeli?

Me: I live there.  I work as a volunteer; I teach English to children.

Georgian: Wow.  How much is your salary?

Me: I get a stipend, for my host family.

Georgian: You should get married and stay here.

etc....

Now, they go more like this:

Georgian: Are you Georgian?

Me: No.

Georgian: Do you understand Georgian?

Me: (NO. I CLEARLY AM NOT RESPONDING TO YOU RIGHT NOW.) Yes, I know what's necessary.

Georgian: Maladets.  Where are you from?

Me: The U.S.

Georgian: Ah.  You should marry a Georgian.

Me: (Because that's the only goal one should have in life.  Especially foreign women here.) Nope, not interested.

Georgian: You don't like Georgian men?

Me: (I LOVE misogynist drunkards who can't pour a glass of water for themselves.) I'm not interested.

Georgian: (clearly offended) Oh, be careful what you say!

Me: (WHY are you offended?) I'm not interested in Georgian OR American men.

Georgian: (astonished) Well, how old are you?

Me: 22.  I have plenty of time.

Georgian: Oh, how small! (Her clock is a-tickin'.  She'd better get on that before her childbearing years are over.)

Why are you going to Akhalsopeli?

Me: I'm going home.

Georgian: You live in Akhalsopeli?!

Me: Yep.

Georgian: What do you do?  Teach?

Me: Yeah, English, to children. (When they show up.  With one out of two partner teachers.)

Georgian: What's your sal-?

Me: (REALLY?) I'm a volunteer.

Georgian: -ary. But you have to have money.  How much do you get?

Me: (PLEASE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!)

You get the picture.  I'd like to be a good diplomat, but unlike Cara, who has the patience of a rock, I just don't have it in me anymore.  So maybe a future in foreign relations isn't for me.  Fair enough.

I know I'm leaving you with a novel, but I have one more item of disgust to be discussed--  the title of this post.

I do not want to find out what happens if you pee on a bee, but I am scared to death that I will be privy to this knowledge by the time the summer's over.  Seriously, guys, what is so tantalizing about our outhouse that you have to be buzzing around from early in the morning 'til the sun don't shine, filling me with fears of stings in the place of the same?  I am trying my best to not upset you, so please don't get riled up if I make a mistake.  I'm not perfect.

Love, Paula.

More Travel. Aka Paula tries to spend 21 hours in a marsh in a 9 day period.

Backlog from last week:

[Well, these next few days are going to be spent butt planted precariously on some kind of seat speeding through the country at speeds so unspeakable I must not speak them.  Also praying no one who's gone more than, say, 5 days without bathing squishes in the seat next to me for the next couple hours.


But, hey, exciting things going down!

Friday I headed to Tbilisi to prep for the presentations I'll be doing later this week.  Friday evening I spent in Patara with the old host fam.  Much debate of how easy it is to get to America and study and get into college and money was observed.  Nothing like a good helping of dream-killing and at least four "Why have you forgotten us?"es to make you glad that you'd been texted, "when will you visit us?"

Needless to say, the next day supra at Katelyn's Patara host fam (the year-anniversary of the dude who's 40-days-after-death celebration was our cluster's FIRST EVER supra.) pushed me a little over the edge, especially when being force-introduced to some dude's family and forcefed strawberries, 1 to 2 sugar to strawberry ratio.

But meeting the Trainees was cool.]

The present:
Yep.  Lots of traveling happened.  Lots of sessions ignored.  Lots of s'mores eaten (HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATELYN!) (ALSO LANG.).

Borjomi was not an awful place to be, either; a sprawling metropolis with a park, bursting with fir trees, megruli khatchapuri, and a mighty river.  (Soo... we had Sagarejo. Hm.)

I'll have some visitors from Thursday to Sunday.  Two trainees will be visiting Newvillage, one whose place I stayed at last week while mentoring, another who I've briefly talked to and is pretty much hot stuff.  And considering I watched Golden Girls with the first and had a text conversation that included the phrase "ain't that the truth, sista", I think we'll get along swellingly.

OH!  I ran 5K in the Race for the Cure on Saturday.  A free T-shirt was received and 3rd place in girls was achieved (I think).  Win!!  Next on the running goal horizon: Add 23 miles to those run on Saturday.  Marathon time.  But not really.  I like this little distance.  After that run was one of the few times I've felt truly good this month. Watching two Southern friends argue about barbecue in front of an Italian was another.

I allowed myself to be robbed at the Nike store because I left my 40 lari New Balance bazari shoes at home. Along with my wallet.  I've been on Katelyn's dime since last Tuesday.  Thanks, shuhgah momma!  At least my new shoes are pretty sweet.  They've got neon green.  Matching the ubiquitous fleece I have.  Also many other green things in my possession.

The election was Sunday.  My host mom has been working her tail off for this thing, going door to door and making sure 5th street represents.  Also, true to her character, she brought a pot of flowers to decorate the election site, our school.

I missed Bolo Zari on Thursday/the weekend.  But I've heard ours wasn't that big of a deal, and my friend/former 12th grade student invited me to the banquet that will take place sometime this week.

In other news, it's June today, which marks the anniversary of the month in which I was last in my home country.  As of sixteen days later, it'll be a year.  Crazy, huh?  Also it's been over a year since I graduated.  Hm.

Spring is in the air... kwelgan I davtwalierav

I am dead tired, and there are miles to go after I sleep. So I'm just gonna tell you a couple of highlights that I remember from the couple past days I haven't written.

Homemade hamburgers with awesome barbecue sauce. Like, the best barbecue sauce known to man. This may be biased due to lack of comparison bbq here, but I doubt it. This stuff was the nectar of the gods, man.

Dancing at the Club and watching people do stuff you shouldn't be able to see them doing from the window.

Working all week on the SPA grant with my cp, staying at her house either late or overnight, freaking out in the teacher's lounge over fear that it wouldn't get done, and then watching cp and computer teacher friends pull together and come to Tbilisi so we could price check and get shit done.

It's ice cream season. Also strawberry season.

CP's son, who's a self-proclaimed future advertisement-maker and/or pencil sketch artist (he's a prolific sketcher), bawled when I left their house one day, and rarely lets me leave without giving me a big, juicy kiss on the cheek.

Made lettuce salad (YUM!) today at my cp's house with homegrown lettuce given by one of the teachers. And had more lettuce promised me for Monday by another teacher.


The biggest news of the hour is that this week, two days ago, I had three seventh grade girls join me for my morning anti-notrunning training (good thing I'm also equally training for the stress-eating team. It has more than balanced things out). Yesterday, I had five, including host sis. Last night I slept at cp's house because I spent a lot of time planning and helping her fix her computer, then it was raining, and this morning she had her heart set on feeding me strawberries and oatmeal, so I didn't run. But the girls ran without me and asked where I was. What's going on?!

And.. there's dancing bazari bags on TV. I think it's time to call it a night. Headed to Tbilisi to practice for med sessions for new Trainee trainings, then Patara to the old host fam for some good ol' awkward moments, then Borjomi to hang out at a meet, greet, eat, drink with the newbs, then hightail it back home for a day or two, then back out for Trainee mentoring and delivering said medical sessions on hub day. AH!!!!

Because the cheesiest and catchiest are the best guilty pleasures in life.

Mac and Cheese and Pokemon knew what they were doing.  Also syphilis.  But don't tell Shakespeare, he's still a little touchy about the subject.

Sakartvelo's Police Hymn!!

Let's start the day in the best of ways... this year edition.

In celebration of my director's birthday and my coworker planting blackberries on farmville, I'll give you 5 examples of wonderful ways to start your day.  One of these was today.

ნაყინი (nakini) nightmares.

The deputy director, a sweet woman, told me I might want to pull my skirt up (fixed with a pin because lack of dryer stretched it out), and that my underwear's showing.  I was wearing one of the Christmas presents from my parents, stuffed in the toe of my boots when they sent them over.  They were bright pink.

warm weather's revenge

The very first time it's warm enough to eat in the kitchen and not in the living/petchi room, I arrived late to school because the clock in the kitchen is 5 minutes slow.  My 12th graders were loitering outside, so I apologized and asked if they were coming to class.  Later I realized I had them 3rd period and not 1st.  I should have been apologizing to the 3rd graders.  Whatev.

just another day in Georgia

I arrived late to school and had forgotten my phone and meds.  I searched for my counterpart, but she arrived later than I because she had a cold and low blood pressure and looked like she was about to collapse.  She'd tried to call me twice.  That same day, I had one student in 12th grade.  I made him listen to "A Whole New World" and write in the pronouns.

have to wear gloves next time I weed...

One fine morning I woke up.  I was very grateful that I woke up.  The night before my pinky was red and swollen and my wrist hurt.  I was so afraid I wouldn't wake up that I wrote the medical duty phone number on a scrap of paper, labeled it in Georgian, and left it next to my bed.  I looked at my arm and saw a red line running from my pinky, twisting down my arm to my elbow.  Hooray!

should've left the bag in the magic cupboard
One winter morning, I wanted museli.  I also wanted to keep the bag fresh.  I ran up to my room quickly to fetch some tape, and I slipped on the freshly-mopped landing and cracked my head open on the stairs.  When the ambulance driver came, he did paperwork over tea and honey while my head was leaking blood all over the pillow.

Nothing to Write Home About... ?

So, as I was breaking my notrunning team training program this morning, something occurred to me which has been percolating since yesterday or so.  I greeted one of my 6th grade boys who usually hangs around the stadium the same time as me.

Turn on my jammin' tunes.  I've got some new ones, thanks to a certain charitable donor.  And the words seem to reflect my line of thought for the past few whatever-periods-of-time.  Let me illuminate.

Yesterday I had a chat.
Rick: "You know, you should keep writing.  You've got good stuff."
Me: "Most of the time it's like, 'Today I picked chinchari.  Hooray.' Nothing really interesting."

By interesting, I mean writing style.  Like, I just word vomit on the keyboard and whatever comes out is what you, my zillions of loyal fans, are stuck reading, if you make it to the end of the entries.  Sorry I'm not very entertaining.  I seem to have lost that in the shuffle of everyday life in the Twilight Zone.  (That along with patience.  There's only so many times I can handle "Does she like xinkali? What's her age? Do you like Georgia? You don't like meat? [finally realizing, after asking my CP and listening to me answer for myself multiple times that, I do understand simple questions.  Then...] American people are cold," without losing all willpower against clumping all Georgians into one category, that of ridiculous goimi, and answering their questions with the same tone they are asked.  That tone would be the one you use with slow children.

But anyway.  I also met a Fulbrighter yesterday when picking up some ice cream before getting on the marshutka headed the opposite way of Ortachalla station, where I wanted to go to catch the marsh home.  He was amazingly helpful in providing resources and had really cool research, and encouraged me to look into Fulbright.  But... as I stop and think, I really haven't done much to impress people I will solicit employment from except "put a good effort in going through the motions of teaching, even though the best of her students still write things like 'I will poor.  I will not steal because I will not like steal.'"  No extra activities, not for Earth Day (local bio/geo teacher/host fam member planned that on her own), no SPA grant or progress since Project Design and Management training... no nothing.  I barely manage to keep up with visiting the neighbors and helping the FFG advisor teacher download flash to get Farmville to work.  And I've felt like I've been off gallivanting with my friend Ana a lot and neglecting the fam.  More stress on myself.

So why was I in Tbilisi on a weekday in the first place?  Well, this past weekend I've been chilling at home.  So I decided I'd help out with some of the garden work.  I learned გამარგვლა (gamargwla [weeding]).  I also planted potatoes.  A whole friggin field of potatoes.  Mind you, I really don't like potatoes.  I'll eat them when I haven't had enough bananas for the potassium, but, really, my starch needs are covered.  Whatever.  The point is, the day after weeding, my pinky slowly swelled up to the size of a hefty cigar, with the same amount of flexibility.  Also there was a red line from my pinky to my elbow.

Called the doc, got a blood test, an x-ray from the cool Russian guy who x-rayed me before, spent the night at the PC-approved hostel (if I knew it was gonna be an overnight, I would have brought extra underwear...), and got put on antibiotics.  But my finger was starting to heal itself, so whatev.

I became the impromptu PR for the docs to get G9s to present at PST sessions.  I may participate in a couple of their sessions as well as (hopefully) "Host Family Integration" and "Avoiding Unwanted Attention."

I also got to see my old LCF and awesome friend Ana, which made my indeterminable period of time.  And met some PCVs from Armenia and Azerbaijan who were in town to judge Writing Olympics, trans-Caucasus level.

Also, ice cream is back in a maghazia near you.  Praise be to-- well, you know.

Speaking of which, I was Baptismnapped today while attempting to plan lessons.  My CP was asked to be an emergency godmother, because the grandfather died so the kid needed to be Baptized STAT (or something like that), so we went to the baptism, at which the child screamed bloody murder when the priest brushed oil on her forehead/cheeks/feet.  We then went to the obligatory supra.  Neither of us really wanted to go, but it's tradition and The Right Thing To Do.  And when the natural progression turned to the unique topic of "You Should Marry a Georgian," I calmly explained to them that I would only marry a man who "knows house's work, like washing the dishes and cleaning, because there are men like that in America, and we usually share the chores."  Usual rounds of laughter from the men, and a "Georgian men--UGH!" from like the main lady there.  Hooray!

So, like I said, nothing remarkable going on in my life.

danit etxoba...

So, it's been a while again. (That seems to be my catch phrase here.  Maybe I've found myself a new subtitle.)

I don't know if I've been busy or lazy to update.  (Sub-subtitle?)

Either way, it's been coupled with a general feeling of listlessness and worthlessness and worrying.  (Again, nothing new under the sun.)

So what has been new?  Last week was Easter.  I was invited to go to Batumi with some of the other guys, but I stayed home because it was the host sister/niece's b-day and Easter.  Cool stuff: watched paska being baked.  Paska's like 8 times the work of babovka to yield an inferior product; dry and without scrumptious poppyseed filling.  Also, Eteri (mom/grandma) took off everything but innermost shirt, so host mom/sister glanced at my camera and said: "Make sure to get a picture of her chest and tell everyone it's traditional; you HAVE to prepare paska with cleavage."  I'll post pics later. ; D

All Sunday I helped prep food for Supras 1 and 2 last week Monday and Tuesday.  List: fried meat roll things, boiled meat in cabbage leaves, and 3 types of mayonaissey salads.

Supra #1 was kind of a failure because we prepared for like 25 guests and got maybe 10, an hour after the proposed starting time.  Maybe it's because everyone decided that day they were going to have guests.  Because it was the day after Easter.  Just maybe.  I ducked out early and talked with some awesome peeps on Skype.  You know who you are.  Holla at ya.

Supra #2 was a bit of a shit show.  Like I said before, 13-year-old's b-day.  Parents and I ate downstairs and left the kids upstairs in the supra room to their own devices.  There's no drinking age here.  We were chomming down and having a good time when one of my fourth graders burst in, hoists her wineglass, yells "TO THIS FAMILY!!!!", downs the glass, and runs out again to wreak some mystery mischief.

Other highlights of the night include being told I'm awesome by tipsy family members, passably reciprocating (some of the "you're awesome" was "you stylishly handled that chacha when we had the Chiakokonoba outside-night-picnic"), eating decent coffee-flavored torti, and getting a little too excited about talking to people online.  You also know who you are.  Holla at ya.

Also, Part of the Fam Test 1:
You're casually drying your stack of silverware with your dishtowel, glance at a knife, and ask, "This isn't ours, is it?"  When the answer is a laugh and an "ara!", you know you're in.

When it rains...

Or, in this case, when it SNOWS.  SURPRISE!!!!!11!!11ELEVENTY.  Happy St. Joseph's Day.


Yep.  This morning I woke up to a fresh coat of snow lining the track to the bathroom.  I do the familiar all-purpose-question-hand-gesture to host g-ma.  "Vigundaot?" she responds, making a snowball and pretending to toss it at me. (So, a language that can express "let's have a snowball fight" in one word can't be ALL that bad, right?)  However, it was all melty by the time I got off school.


I headed to Kwareli today with my counterpart to observe the computer trainings that some teachers from our school are taking (that my host mom skipped out on today).  They were doing stuff on an interesting website, lemill.net--it's got some interesting links for sharing resources.  If every teacher here lesson planned and shared their lesson plans on there, the education system would be much improved.  But pooling resources doesn't seem to be The Way with teaching.  Money and food and most things, yes.  Hm.


And, the computer trainings might be more fruitful if the teachers grasped basic concepts like select, cut, and paste, more concretely before trying to post their lesson plans on this site.  At least I have an idea of how much work my potential tech training in the village is going to be.  Too bad all they want is a CERTIFICATE, hell if they actually know how to tell the difference between my documents and microsoft word.  *sigh*
Maybe I'll just spend some time on GIMP and make my own.  You're Pahoola Shmidi certified!!!^©


Anyway, take it from me, you've never lived until you've pregamed a violet-picking-hike with three shots of chacha.




მომავლის მიზნები:
grad school?
thus, GRE?
(aka, work on figuring out what the heck to do with myself when this gig's up)
get muscles back
install kubuntu with working internet by the end of the weekend
catch up on the various PC stuff I should probably do...
work on being a little less intense/less of a wet blanket on my own party
start up work on Georgian again
learn some Russian while I'm here
be more attentive to people not in my immediate surroundings that I care about, PCVs and friends back home included
bake some babovka tomorrow (if there's milk...) for late st. j. day. celebray.

Mokle List.

The Sucky:

• Rainy weather makes our water yellow.  Good thing we have those handy-dandy PC issued filters!
• Rainy weather also makes for less-than-ideal trips to the toilet in the middle of the night in a path that falls right underneath the edge of the roof and ends in a mud patch.
• Rainy weather also makes me want to feel sorry for myself, (more than usual).
• 2 Georgians now have said my Georgian isn't good enough.  Also, apothecary lady when I went to get Mono cards for Internet told me I need to start an English club so her son can go, and proceeded to yell at him for not studying before I could escape.
• Trying to reassure my counterpart she's not a bad mom because she works hard and doesn't have a lot of time for her son.  She is the bomb.  And I don't mean the ones brought to mind by a certain TV station who cried "war with Russia."

The Good:

• My host mom, telling me my Georgian is understandable and that I don't need to work on it because I won't need it after I leave.  Which will be a good and bad time for me, and not really a good time at all for the fam because I'm not annoying.
• Hair cuts that make me feel cute.  All for the low low price of conversation and a gift of tights given to me for women's day by my secondary counterpart (the one who worked with "Lizzy" from Montana [read:not too keen on the newcomer who is notlyssa]), size large (for people 60-80 kilos, or something ridiculous like that).
• A new ring, that I don't need.  Georgian people don't understand the concept of "I want it, but I don't need it."  Thus, when the ring lady comes a knockin', Cara and I yield to temptation to buy ourselves the first things we've bought ourselves in a long time.
• Successful journey to Tsinandali, complete with marshutka "layover" in the middle of nowhere.  Woot!
• Nettles are delicious vittles.  Cluny the Scourge adds his seal of approval.
• Also, a neighbor gave me a pear when I was walking home the other day.  Because he could.  It was delicious.
• Today, I used the fam's old Singer and a pair of the host bro's old jeans and reconstructed the awesome denim skirt that I burned a hole in the butt in out of distractedness (and putting it on a heater to dry.  Oops.).  SEW GOOD!

The Usual in Georgia:

• Breaking resolutions to train for the 2016 Notrunning Team.  My left leg HURTS LIKE AN EMPTY BOX OF CHOCOLATES.
• Study time with host fam consists of a lot of impatience on the part of the kids with the cousin, who learns at a slower pace than they do.  But the host bro reprimanded the sis for laughing, keeping things back on track.  *proud of subtle signs of maturity*

And, it's probably about time I explained my blog's name.  The guys in the family are known as "Kwavebi" = "ravens" or "crows" (not sure), because they're dark skinned with raven hair.  My official last name, as host unc informs me, is Schmid-Mosulishvili.  Thus, I'm a Kwavi, too.  One with significantly different plumage than the rest of the family.  (Tetri = white.)  Tetri Kwavi.

Video blogs for your viewing pleasure!

I promise, I'll actually tell you about things going on with my life when I have some time.  Maybe tomorrow after school.

For now, enjoy these videos I finally got uploaded.

The Georgian Homestead
Ra lamazia! (How beautiful!)

Bad Thing #3...

So.

The world laughs at my pain and comes full circle to deliver bad thing #3: computer issues.

I laugh back and decide to bite the bullet and install a linux-based OS--Kubuntu.  Why that over Ubuntu?  Gut feeling.  And it looked prettier.

Trent's taken well to it thus far.  I still have to convert all my files and customize the interface how I want it.  Probably with pretty pictures of warm things to get me through the cold month or so to go.

However, the world (read: magti and consumerism) laughs back at me for trying to have free love, a free spirit, and a free OS.  Magti's modem's drivers don't work with linux-based OSes.  Boo.

And I'm still trying to figure this one out.  If anyone has any clue how to make it work, throw me a lifeline!  kplzthxbai.

Top 10 Ways to Occupy Oneself During Medical Leave.

10. Sleep.
Although this is difficult with a gash on back of your head and lovely bruises on both elbows and your gluteus growingevermoremaximusingeorgicus.

9. Read.
This improves your morale when you think, "Wow, Vanya Denisovich was thankful at the end of HIS day, and I haven't frozen my butt in Siberia slathering mortar on concrete blocks for 6 oz. of bread lately."
Also may build your desire to go to India after service (sans the joining-the-Indian-mafia bit).

8. Eat.
Compounding on last reason.  However, remember to tell the hostess that you don't like meat (lest you get meat and noodle soup and chicken sticks for lunch), and don't try to go out for dinner with visiting PCVs, as this is a stern no-no.

7. Catch up with people back home.
Lots of get wells for you guys who are concurrently recovering from surgeries and various ailments.  And it's sweet to hear you're doing things like learning knitting and working at book publishing companies and having senior recitals and jazz.  Also, BIG thanks to Kayleigh for my new theme song.

6. Waste time on the Interwebs.
The final frontier knows no bounds.

5. Listen to some new music.
Kyle would approve, and Steven Flaherty would be proud. (?)

4. Resolve to demand dance lessons.
Time to take a stand against the winter blues and that gluteous growingevermoremaximus.

3. Take warm showers.
Neck down or full body, enjoy it while it lasts.  Also the sit down toilet, now only seconds away from your bed!  Also central heat, when it doesn't go out for some unknown reason.

2. Reassure Akhalsopelians.
I'm okay; I'll be back Tuesday; yes, I'm taking medicine; I'd love to go walking with you when I get back; and thanks for the wish to find big and nice love in life.

1. Thank those who are that big and nice love.
Chemebi.  You know who you are.  Happy Valentine's Day, guys.

To do without.

Just because, post's composition lack of action words for point.  Possible.
And lots of down time.

Wednesday, after ice without footing and head WITH bottom stair, anti-azeri-not-knowing-georgian ambulance driver's 30 minute tea at the homestead with my head and blood all over the couch, much time.

Time in ambulance half reading A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, half kartuglish with other doctor in ambulance (Gurian, war experience, English so-so, coworker/friends in Haiti relief).

Finally Tbilisi, swanky hospital, and CT scan.  No amnesia, no loss of consciousness, no brain damage (maybe).  Head cleaninPAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIN!!!!!!!!!!

Educated doctor: "Shes name Salome." (The nice night nurse.) (And doctor's name...? : / ) Buttload of food.  Butt pain + elbow pain + head pain + drugs = sort-of-sleep + not-quite-coherent conversation with sister

Thursday:
Hospital Ritz's check-out.  Hostel Nika's check-in.  More checkups.  House arrest.  Surprise!! Visitors!  Online conversations with sister, G9, and G10-to-be.

Friday:
Still house arrest.  The Office catch-up.  "Sunday best" Paula, minus shower.  Phone interview for FLEX program-- ise ra.  Blegh for phones.  But with 11 other friend applicants, nonplussed.  Rest of day: online nonsense, talkin' with Kyle-i, Georgian lasagna, shower from neck down.


Summary:
Visits from non-medical personnel: 3
Phone calls/texts from Akhalsopelians about my health: 6
Comfortable sleeping positions: 0
Time from village to Tbilisi: with blood on your head, longer than necessary
Future plans: 2 books, 3 Office episodes, James Bond movie, chocolate, showers (multiple, hot).
 Demands for dance lessons.
 Reclamation of thwarted plans to visit neighbor/friends.
 T-shirt-- front: "Life is like Eurasia." back: "Your mom is like Eurasia."
 Grad school for linguistics?

Recent brushes with death and realization that my life < aprovechado : 1

Minetrebi, babo.

I'll keep this short.  I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone that I've neglected to thank lately.

Thank you for everyone who's sent me mail: Mary, Clare, Holly, Kurt, Jen, Kerrie, Kayleigh, Lisa, and the people from Trinity who gave me b-day cards, too.

Thank you especially for the people who sent me things in boxes like marshmallows, new headphones that hopefully won't break in a week, and that handy-dandy flosser thing--Jen, Kurt, Mary and the Ehlerses, the ladies at church, and my family.  Every month, sometimes multiple times, I'm reminded there's people back in the land of plenty and peanut butter that love me and support what I'm doing here even though I often relate more with the freshly plucked chicken sitting in the fridge.

Thank you to all the people supporting me through this past week or so since I found out my grandma passed away.  I need all of you more than ever now, even though I feel like I've been quite self-concerned and not as giving/productive as I could be.  It's gonna take a while to heal, a while longer than I thought at first.  The stares are getting to me more, the lack of work ethic is getting to me more, the lack of planning is getting to me... even though my situation is MILES better than most volunteers.

So, yes.  Thanks to everyone. Dzalian didi madloba.  Muchas gracias.  I love and miss you all.

Tan da tan. Poco a poco. Little by little.

It's funny that there's a phrase in three languages which represent many, vastly different cultures that describes the same way work gets done.

Then again, maybe not.

So, I'm working with my counterpart to design a tech training in the village.  We need a building, computers, a teacher, and students.  We need 25% community contribution, whether it be money or in kind.


Notwithstanding the fact that the proposal for the SPA grant we're counting on to fund the project is due in like a week, there is much work that remains to be done with the planning stage.  Realistically, my counterpart and I should probably go through project design and management training, and we should have more people on board for this on the planning level.  But my CP is kickass, and although she's got German language exams in July that she's freaking out about, as well as private students every day, housework and a 4-year-old and a husband to take care of and maintain a relationship with, not to mention that thing called school that we actually plan lessons for every day--all this aside, she REALLY wants to work on this project.  I think, though, since she's got about as much experience as I do working on things like this, it'll be pretty difficult.  The director knows what he's doing--he's even got what I think is the SPA handbook from former volunteers.  He drew up a budget and talked to people for the space.  He found a computer literate guy and found a different teacher when the guy who owns the computer building (who's in the regional gov't) told him that the first guy was in the opposition party and no one from the community would take lessons from that guy.

(Isn't work in a developing country with highly dynamic political stances fun?)

Yet, still, I'm worried about the sustainability of the project.  Will this last after 3 months?  How will we pay the bills? the bills be paid.. BY the community?  When I'm gone?

Will the computer lab even last that long?



Changing the subject completely, why is everyone so concerned with my eating habits and marriage status?  SERIOUSLY.
My grandma called me a "bad girl" yesterday because I don't eat meat.  I really wasn't expecting it from this family.  But she still wants me to eat meat and is SOOO concerned that I don't.  I just want to get a book on healthy eating and sit her down and make her read every bit of it.  Maybe then we won't have scrambled eggs that float in an ocean of oil in the frying pan and sit in a wading pool of oil in the serving dish.  Miirtviet.  Gemrielia.

But two other women now, on separate occasions, in separate locations, have told me that I have chubby cheeks now and it looks good on me.  Thanks.  Yeah, stress eating and lack of desire to leave the petchi room will do that to ya.  And comments like this make me feel even better about myself.

And two men have recently, on separate occasions, told me I need to get married.  (One being my host uncle/brother-in-law [I'm going through a host generational identity crisis], the other being his cousin and my counterpart's husband.)  Seriously.  Seriously.  There is just not enough seriousness in this computer to express how serious I am about loathing conversation on this subject.

I've been spending quite a bit of time thinking/worrying about my future and present lately.  I know that I want:
-a warm bathroom with a heated toilet seat, fuzzy toilet seat cover/around the toilet carpet, and maybe a Hawaii/volcanoes of the world theme.
-a space where I can do exercise that's not rocky and uncomfortable and freezing and lacks people that stare at you EVERY DAY like you're an extraterrestrial traveler.
-peanut butter, raisins, and celery.  Lots of it.
-to live with people that I don't feel guilty about not spending all my waking moments with.
-to read more and waste less time online (whoops).
-morning showers.  Warm ones.  Daily.  Or at LEAST every other.

Also, I've noticed a few things that really suck every last drop of hope out of your body.
-Turkish toilets in the winter.
-Going to school, seeing the petchi lit in the bathroom, being excited ALL DAY about finally taking a shower after 5 days of not bathing, but by the time you actually get into the bathroom at night, the water is freezing.
-flicking a glob of frozen toothpaste in your eye.


Some good things?
-The mountains I live by are still really beautiful.  Not that I appreciate them enough, but...
-The people I live with are still good people.  Not that there's not ups and downs, but...
-The people I work with are still good people.  Even though there's BIG DRAMA going down about the English library being locked all day, every day.  I hold it's a power struggle; the older volunteer wants to hold onto the responsibility and the power of The Key.  Her excuse for not having it open is that we'll "lose" books.  And they're doing a lot of good to everyone being locked in the cabinet for all eternity, aren't they?  But I digress.  This is Good Thing time.
-I got some new music to listen to and expand my horizons!  Woot!

Yeah, that's all I got.  Off to do more tsutsunebda. (that's whining, for all you English speakers.)

P.S. I got this e-mail that says, "We will be contact you to set up an interview for the FLEX position."

Would you hire me?

Dear (program director guy):

If, above all, you are looking for someone to create a rigid classroom atmosphere that keeps to a strict time schedule, that may not be me. At least, not alone. Teaching in Georgia is teaching me both the value of keeping appointments and the difficulty to do so when there is no cultural expectation to do so.

I am characteristically thorough and procrastinate, and here I have been used to both teachers and students walking in late to class. One day, when I was late to fifth grade, a fifth grade girl was late, too. My partner teacher consoled her by saying, “It's okay. Everyone runs late sometimes. I've been late, this boy's been late, even Paula has been late before.” This revelation embarrasses me from my American perspective because I realized that I have been adopting habits and values that I do not necessarily want to adopt.

Perhaps the most valuable lesson from my time abroad is noting annoying cultural discrepancies and how to deal with culture shock. If I just cannot stand the constant urgings to get married to a Georgian, I know to force myself to laugh it off and then gently let the matchmaker know that while I am flattered, marriage is not part of my purpose for being in the country (or give the cryptic answer “we'll see,” if I am not up to a debate about gender roles). I know now that my Nalgene water bottle is an amazing novelty, sure to garner queries from students and teachers alike. And I quickly learned to grab a scarf before I go to school, even if I do not need it, to slightly dissuade my coworkers from scolding me for not dressing warmly enough. Using this firsthand experience, I wrote for the alternate handbook to help the incoming group of volunteers know what to expect; I can help advise students from this region with developing their own skills for adapting to cultural idiosyncracies.

Studying abroad in Spain and working as a Peace Corps Volunteer have given me skills in adapting materials for teaching. I plan for lessons every day with one of my partner teachers and for the other, combining book exercises with physical response activities and dialogues, drawing on experience from leading English clubs in Spain as well as Peace Corps' pre-service training. On occasion, I taught a few classes on my own when my partner teacher was unable to come to school, explaining activities in English and Georgian when necessary.

I have mastered enough control over Georgian to have conversations with my host mother about the educational system, politics, health, gender roles, and other topics beyond “I am hungry.” While my Georgian is by no means fluent, I have learned to listen and circumlocute and encourage my students to do the same.

I am familiar with the FLEX program from personal experience, but my former host sister applied for the program. She made it to the third round. She is a brilliant student with critical thinking skills, political, social, and global awareness that rival my colleagues, far beyond those her age and from her tiny village. If a student of her caliber cannot participate, nor any of the students from my village, I would very much be honored to help train the students who have been selected.

Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,

Paula G. Schmid

I need to get to bed, but I was proud of this baby.

Big things are going down in the New Village.  They involve grant money, my counterpart, and plans being made.  COOPERATION?!

Next time, on Dragon Ball Z!  Magda and Paula join forces to bring modern technology to the middle of nowhere!  Will they conquer petty villager feuds?  Will they raise enough funds?  Will Paula ever understand more than 20% of what comes out of her director's mouth?  Tune in!

Just because it was on the news..

So, I know there are more important things that have been on the news, like John Makkaini being here for like a day, but this was on yesterday.  Apparently Medvedev's secretary of something got pretty mad at the Ukraine station that aired this.

So I decided to look it up and found it quite amusing.  As did my host mom.  Hope you do, too.

Then, I saw this linked and couldn't resist.  It made me smile and lift an eyebrow.

Ra xdeba?

You may now finally rest easy.  News from the old and glorious land of Sakartvelo, which has been long due, finally comes your way!  Now you have something to read while you're on your nice, sit down commode in your centrally-heated houses.  Jerks.
So, the holiday season is coming to a close.  Next week.  Sort of.  The first day after break is the eighteenth.  Or maybe the twentieth, because the nineteenth is a Georgian holiday.  These are the words of my counterpart.

Let me tell you, I have just about had it up to my yurebi (ears) in Georgian keipi (feasting) and culture.  And my waistline can't really take too much, either, since it's turned to the FREEZING season and I've lost all will to exercise and/or leave the room with the petchi.

A review of the holidays I've celebrated since Christmas ("Catholic Christmas," that is):
New Year's Eve:
  Supposedly the most anticipated, hyped up celebration in the country.  Really just an extended, low-key family supper where we watched TV for slightly longer than we usually do and drank Christmas liqueur and my babo's coffee liqueur (made with the family chacha.. so it tasted of rocket fuel).  And some nut job was singing while the clock actually struck 12, so I kinda missed it.  Whatev.  There were some fireworks, but kids have been setting them off in the streets for weeks now.  Also, we visited the brother-in-law's place (because my host sister was their first-footer, the first guest after New Years who must bring a plate of nom nom squares and other sugary delights for a "delicious" year).  There I was urged to marry in the village by some intoxicated Georgian men and then made fun of because I don't know how to milk a cow.  So it goes.

New Year's Day:
   Slightly more involved.  Family members from all around gathered at the grandma's parent's house in Gremi and feasted with such once-a-yearly culinary delights as chicken in walnut sauce, honey-walnut granola bars (minus the granola), and more chocolate and nom nom squares than even I can eat.  And that is saying something, because I inherited my dad's sweet tooth.  At least I got to exchange glances with the Ukranian sister-in-law (I don't speak Russian, and she doesn't speak Georgian or English very well) about the massive quantities of food, the constant comments about how "sad" the non-Georgians were (really, just bored and tired of being told to eat the food), and the 90-something-year-old great-grandpa downing two full-sized glasses of Georgian wine of the highest quality for some toast or another.

Pig slaughter at Tom's celebrating his return:
  Pretty much self-explanatory.  You can look up videos and pictures on his and Johnny's FB if you'd like the scream of a dying pig to haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.

New Year's party with host family friends later that night:
  Which may or may not have involved me drinking a bit too much Telani Valley red wine (probably some of the better wine I've tasted in Georgia) and talking about gender roles with the friend (who makes more than a few measly tetri at his Important Job in Tbilisi).  Other highlights include making up an Italian boyfriend (he plays the organ in the Vatican and is kinda ugly, but I love him anyway, and mom approves.) and refusing to drink amaretto with him at noon or so the next day.  Also trying to make his son say "please" instead of demanding me to draw things for him.

Getting vaccinated for swine flu:
  This was definitely a party in itself.  Getting to see a bunch of PCVs, chat it up about our ridiculous holiday experiences, and eat at the awesome Shenghai Chinese Restaurant.  What more could you ask for?  We also said "see you in a few months" to the guy who broke his heel on the Kazbegi excursion--he's sent back to the states for a consultation and possible surgery before he can come back, hopefully, to continue service.

Feast at our house:
  With the sister-in-law and her husband who live on the other side of the village.  The husband interrogated me on my job and we watched the kids' dance concert that was in Tbilisi when I was gone for Telavi Thanksgiving.

Orthodox Christmas:
  Not a whole lot happened this day, either.  I made chili (successfully) and cornbread (unsuccessfully).  I would blame it on the crappy Georgian corn, but a) it was from a can and thus probably not from Georgia, and b) I added too much salt and c) I didn't have milk, so I used sour cream that may or may not have been still good.  At least the "American bean soup" was good, if the "American mchadi" was a failure.  This time.

  Also, the kids sang "alilos" and we gave them eggs so that they could feast the next day. (I think).

  And I thought the family went to church at 11, but they really went to bed, and I stayed up until 2 waiting for them to come back.  I thought they'd left without inviting me since I'd been on the computer all day, so I was feeling abandoned.  Silly me.

Dual pig slaughter at our place:
  This went down Saturday.  I have been feeling incredibly anti-Georgian lately, so was in a foul mood all day, even though I got to bathe for the second time in three days and had my hair straightened for me.  I was also grumpy because I couldn't make any food, so when the 30 Georgian guests were here, I fought for kitchen space and tried to orchestrate Chinese-style rice and veggies (lack of soy sauce and overcooking FAIL) and brownies (lack of doubling recipe for pan quasi-fail.  At least they were tasty.).

  I was pretty much successful in persisting in my blue funk and ignoring the Georgians and tried to find my happiness that night in the bottom of a bottle.  I was somewhat successful, though I had to search through a few before I found the right one-- kahlua made with starbucks coffee and family chacha? nope.  (Though it was nice to vaxtanguri with my host mom in a toast to friendship.)  Amaretto from a factory in/near Tbilisi?  nope.  (It was from the loaded family friend's wife's friend, too.)  Store-bought vodka based Bailey's? Check!  The forced wineful of horn in a toast to love also helped a bit.  Surprisingly, it's been my first horn of wine in Georgia.

Also, the tamada this night was the sister-in-law's husband, who lives on the other side of town.  By the end of the night, I marveled at his ability to stand.  He was teetering back and forth like a Mexican jumping bean, but the man was standing.  What a man.  He sure can pack away his wine.

Brunch supra the next day:
  I successfully skipped this one out by taking a nice long walk to the bottom of the village and back. While helping my host mom with the squintillion dishes, she commented on the Georgian tradition of men feasting and women cleaning up (as my host dad, a generally cool guy, was sleeping his hangover off on the couch).  I slipped a bug in her ear about the unfairness of this.  The host dad later accused me of committing a technical foul; actually, he accused me of going over the tamada's head by toasting to something the tamada didn't say, the punishment of which is drinking a full glass of wine to what the tamada actually said.  I forget the Georgian word for this.

English "tour" (aka test/competition) today in Kwareli:
  I woke up at 8, got ready and ate breakfast, scooted out the door a little late (but was still the first one at school), waited for an HOUR for the marsh to come, urged my counterpart to stay home with her sick kid (really, I can go places by myself.), and regretted saying "fine, how are you?" to 12th grader, who was embarrassed because he didn't understand it, even though he goes to a private tutor in Kwareli.  He's really a good kid, and my neighbor, too.  He definitely has a mind of his own--he slept during class once because he had a headache (but I don't blame him--it was a read and translate class), but he's got a good heart.
Still mulling over this awkward exchange, I drank coffee with a couple Russian teachers (one of them's actually a Russian lady) in the Kwareli school's cafe while we waited for the students to finish.  I listened to them talk about politics being dirty and then they talked about food and scolded me for not liking meat.  I'm in GEORGIA, I have to try and LOVE mtsvadi!!  (never mind the visiting relative from Tbilisi refused mtsvadi today.)  Whatever.  At least I got the chance to mail a birthday card to my grandma while I was in a thriving metropolis.  And I footraced (on my high heeled boots) one of the 12th grade boys to warm up while we were waiting for the marsh.

Next weekend, I'll be headed to Cara's to help prepare her birthday bash.  Though it is another party, it will be with many Americans and include many American foods.  (And there's a whole Nalgene-ful more where that Bailey's came from, just crying out for consumption.)  I hope we can make it an enjoyable time, for Cara's sake. : )

So, in sum, I've been going through the neverending holiday slump, getting sick of Georgian culture, being fed up that I'm not living healthily or conscientious of others, and worrying about my future, Life After Peace Corps.  If anyone has any bright ideas, let me know...

Happy Birthday Ange!

Because it's your birthday, I'll do something a little different than wishing you a happy birthday on Facebook like everyone else.



Happy birthday, dear sister of mine.
Gilocav dabadebis dges, chemo dvelpaso daiko.

May you grow old only in maturity over Georgian men who act frighteningly similar to their one-year old sons.  Ex: I hope you never take your friends' phones away from them when they want to leave but you want your way.  If they can't call marshutkas, they have to stay!  Hooray!

Also, we're killing two pigs today.  It's not in your honor, but in my mind and heart it is.
Love ya, sis.
<3