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.