Culture shock?

It's funny, I thought I'd be going through culture shock already.


But things are happening to make me feel right at home.  Or, more accurately, right-where-I-am-which-is-lack-of-home.
Not that being home for a month wasn't a Good Thing.  Naturally it was great to see my parents and sister and some friends again.  Naturally, it was GREAT (!!) to be able to shop at a grocery store and be able to make wraps and scones and mujadara and chive butter and broccoli 'n' cheese and brownies with writing on 'em-- whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, without fear of taking over kitchen time from someone else.

And then there was the buying my first car ever (meh.) and driving across the country by myself.
Cool parts of the road trip:
-belting along to various songs
-stopping in Sandwich, Illinois
-cool countryside on the backroads
-getting Indian food in Toledo and putting together an Oreos puzzle with Cara at her grandparents' cottage

Not-so-cool:
-getting lost in Illinois
-getting lost in Ohio
-getting lost in Gambrills (like 15 minutes away from my new home)

So, basically, if there is a way for me to get lost, I'll find it.  Which, by the way, continues to this day, but that's fodder for another post.


The main thing making me feel right back where I was--aside from working and working and not having anything to show for it--is our wonderful recurring houseguests.  Ctenocephalides felix.  Aka, the cat flea.  I've documented the ordeal on Twitter as a Pokemon battle.  Excepts include:

pulabean

CTENOCEPHALIDES FELIX appeared! Ender, GO! Enemy C.FELIX used BITE! It's super effective! Ender used SCRATCH! It didn't affect Enemy C.FELIX

pulabean

Mary joined the battle! Mary used TOXIC on Ender, Babushka, and Sami! Enemy CTENOCEPHALIDES FELIX is Poisoned!

 

pulabean

Vacuum, GO! Mary used FLEA COLLAR on Vacuum. Vacuum's ATTACK increased! Vacuum used ABSORB on CTENOCEPHALIDES FELIX. Critical Hit!

So, raise your hand if you thought the insect infestations wouldn't be a prominent part of your lives anymore when you got back to a first-world country?

*sigh*

And it certainly doesn't help that I'm at home three to four days out of seven.  Come on, I will work to my nerves if you'd just hire me... 

You can view my resume here.  If you like what you see, or know of any job opportunities you think I may be interested in, please contact me using contact info listed on the CV.  Thank you so much!

Everything happens twice: Hiking and goodbyes.

SURPRISE!!!! Whoops, did I skeeer ya? Bet you weren't actually expecting to hear from me again, ever. Truth to be told, I'm no longer in the land of the Kartveli, but I am forever a White Crow, whether I like it or not. More on that later.
I never actually covered the trip to Svaneti, other than a meager post on Stalkernet with an urge for you to Wikipedia the place to see how beautiful it is. Now you can do the same, but with pictures from yours truly!
I'm also thinking about making this a more regular thing, although as I transition, I should probably create a new blog, and maybe even try to make a living blogging and choose a focus that will actually be interesting to a wide variety of people, not related to me.
But there's still some unfinished business from Georgia coupled with all my culture shock. So, instead of doing things purely chronologically (numbers are my wolfsbane [or, you know, this], and time's wicked hours are no exception), I'll completely ignore my post-service jaunt in the UAE and Thailand with the lovely Cara Bragg and do a rundown on my thoughts on two things: hiking and saying goodbyes.

Hiking/traveling in general.

Mestia, Svaneti vs. St. Mary, Glacier National Park, MT
Observations:

• Things don't always turn out as you plan them. Helicopter flights can be postponed and cancelled in a moment's notice, and the cheap, long way home may turn out to be the more reliable one.
• Certain old Megrelian women need to learn a) what a line/queue is, b) what people standing in front of her look like, and c) how not to mouth off to people when questioned about their blatant disregard for both a) and b).
• My dad is not the conversationalist on topics of my/PCV and guests' interests such as how cool glaciers look, stressing about landing a job, what love means, or bowel movements, but I did learn about how polyethelyne is made and what his favorite car he ever owned is (and how to revive failing pistons). The man also hiked 10 hours with me on 13+ miles of trail, over trees and glaciers and shit (literally-- there was bear scat). Not only did he keep up, he hiked about 3/4 of the way back with a toe the color of Barney blushing and a blister the size of South Dakota. He deserves heaps of street cred. Props to my pa.
• Hiking up to and on glaciers is sweet. It's a lot easier with proper gear. (Thanks, online shopping. But, by the same token, it's hard not to feel like a dork-in-snob's-clothing when you're wearing something with THE NORTH FACE promulgating its superiority from your chest.
• 1500 mL of water is not enough to take for oneself, when one's hiking companion has only brought 1/3 that amount. Thanks, Peace Corps issued potable water tablets.
• Waterfalls are pretty.

Conclusion:

• Even though I didn't grow up doing it, (Iowa?) hiking's rad.
• I'm going back to Glacier. Look out, Cracker Lake, there's a storm comin'.

Saying goodbyes

Observations:

• -Easier when you just don't let thoughts like, "I'll probably never see you again, and if I do it won't be the same," creep in.
• That said, leaving my host family was probably the hardest thing I've done. Some waterfalls are pretty, some are disconsolately sad.
• Drinking large quantities of alcohol and toasting one another can bring "closure", but it can also be dangerous territory for emotions of all kinds.
• When you have time to prepare for goodbyes, you have to deal with the whole impending thing for weeks/months where people get all passive aggressive toward one another to make parting easier, even though it's a dumb solution. When goodbye's unexpected, you have to deal with the whole pain-like-a-battle-axe-hack-at-your-heart thing.

Conclusion:

• Goodbyes hurt.
• If all else fails, take my bidzashvilishvili (first-cousin-once-removed) Paul's lead: Hug the people you think are nice, but refuse to speak to or look at the person you think is coolest in the hour of parting. Remember, if you don't say goodbye, they don't leave.

Bonus!  Blathering philosophical metaphor about life!!!!!!!!11111!!

The time, love, memories, life I've shared with those I met in Georgia can't be undone-- until I become senile or get hypnotherapy, of course. Part of them lives in me, and I live in part of them. It's like if I had been living in the same, clay-ridden soil my whole life, and I shoveled my sprouts into a pot and took them to Georgia, and the people I met had other things-- good peat moss, exotic sand used to growing different types of plants, apathetic rocks, and smelly but kinda useful manure, and it got all mixed up in my little mound. Some of them threw some seeds in there that I'd never seen before, some of them showed me alternative sources of light, some treated me more like a chamber pot. I tried my best to cultivate love, but sometimes I was just too tired and sick of the the scratchy plants and the sun beating down on me.

I know I need to get back to tending my little bit of earth, though. The time I spent in Georgia will nourish me in the future in ways I can't see, and most of all, I hope desperately that I've done something that's mattered, that's good to other people's garden's, too. I just hope it don't get raked away or burned up.

CS, FRIDAY, and The Three Adventurers: Kutaisi Edition

These past few weeks have been an odd dichotomy of surprisingly enjoyable and mind-numbingly dull. School's end was anticlimactic, as expected. Students trickled out day by day, and the last actual day of school was nothing special. There really isn't a bad thing strong enough to kill the inherent joy of the End of School, but there is one to dull it a bit: exams. Students and teachers alike were freaking out about preparing for the exams, so this year wasn't as joyful as most. Ah, well.

Last week, I had the joy of hosting a wicked awesome Couch Surfer. I'm sure my host fam's had it with me having people spend the night, even though it's not like they really have to dig into my allowance to feed them once and wash their sheets. Whatever. He was a cool guy from Germany, just out of high school, who's been teaching German in Tbilisi for a year with the German equivalent of Peace Corps. We took a walk with Ana to Tsminda Giorgi church (my new running path every morning, btws) and I learned fun and interesting German words such as Schlagbaum and Glühwürmchen.

I went in to Tbilisi on Friday for some last few medical check ups. Apparently I didn't sit on enough concrete these past to years to make my ovaries fall out, because everything works just fine. I also introduced TaChalla to her newest craze.

Then, Saturday was the long-awaited (and multiple times delayed) Race for the Cure. SUPER PUMPED doesn't describe how I felt when my weeks of pointed preparation (on my new running path toward Tsminda Giorgi church, a good hour jaunt up and down the mountains) came to its culmination. I played Frogger with the less critically thinking Georgians who were walking in both directions during the race, I sprinted in attempt to return some dude's fallen number, and I had no idea how many laps we were supposed to actually run. Word on the street was 4; I was told to stop, but others with me were still running, so after a confused bout of walking, I ran and caught back up to Katrina. I had already expended most of my energy pushing it up the hill for what I thought was the final lap, so I was exhausted and dourly thought I'd never make it. Katrina (famous for her multiple broken feet/leg problems because she runs so much and lacks a proper diet here) picked my spirits off the pedestrian trodden, sweat laden ground with a "You're fine, you can finish." Without her, I don't think I would have as strongly as I did. (Which was not stellar, but still) <3


After Race for the Cure, we chilled in Tbilisi for the night. Mostly it involved me worrying (somewhat) unnecessarily about job stuff. At dinner I asked, halfheartedly, if anyone was planning on going to Svaneti, and, lo and behold, Lang was going to go with his family! Some other people were tagging along, too, so the next day we bought train tickets and Krisanne, TaChalla and I headed out to Kutaisi in search of dinosaur footprints.

We found much more. These are our stories.

Day 1: Nice place, people don't know directions worth a kopeki.

We arrived at about 3 PM. We took a cab up to our hostel because we had no idea where it was and didn't feel like walking aimlessly around the city-- er, big town-- with all our stuff. We then decided to try and make it to Sataplia, where these dinosaur footprints allegedly reside.

If you want to skip the following two paragraphs, here's a summary:
Total location changes before we got on the marsh to Sataplia: 6


The people at the hostel told us one place. We went there, asked a marsh driver, he told us another place, we went there, waited, went to the tourist info place across the street, who told us some other place (and TIMES). So, we went where the tourist people told us (which turned out to be around the corner from the first place). But we had about 40 minutes to kill, and TaChalla was in dire need of a beer. We thought we'd find a restaurant to go to after we got back from Sataplia, so we asked a random Georgian man sitting outside a beer bar (good idea, right?). He pointed to some restaurant which some English-speaking Georgian dude immediately condemned as awful.
"I know restaurants," he said. "What kind of restaurant you want? A good one?"
We looked at each other.
"Well, I don't want a bad one," TaChalla said.
But we didn't have time for his shenanigans, so we just went into the sketchiest nearby Ludis Bari (what most Georgian bars are named; "Beer Bar") and fueled up for the trip.

We sat down where the marsh should be, was told we were in the wrong spot by some girl, so went to another spot, where someone told us to go back to where the girl told us to go somewhere else.

Sataplia was actually pretty cool.  The only thing it was missing was a clearly marked entrance to the building with the prints.  Also the Jurassic Park theme song.  We took a tour of the cave, guided (against our will... but we met Dennis.  Long story.), and thus missed the last marshutka back to Kutaisi.  TaChalla attempted to befriend some Israeli tourists while Krisanne and I got acquainted with a huge friggin' mountain bee-- imagine my thumb with wings and a deadly stinger. (Sataplia = "place of honey".. so there's mountain bees.)  When the Israeli tourists refused us a ride, we began the 7 K walk back to Kutaisi.  About halfway down, TaChalla persuaded some guy and his girlfriend to take us back to the city, and they invited us for dinner at a brewery.  Much awkward conversation ensued, and we finally parted ways and walked around Kutaisi for a bit, marveling at the streets downtown that don't resemble a Georgian street in the slightest.  Later, because all roads lead to McDonald's (signs throughout the city), we made a pilgrimage there for some McPlurries and McSheikis.  We put up with some Georgian sass inside (GOD I miss LINES!) and out ("Hey, Blackie, are you a boy or a girl?").  Exhausted, we marshed it back and fell into our beds, not before acquainting ourselves with our Polish roommate.

Kutaisi's final grade today: C+

Day 2: HAPPY FREEDOM DAY!

Today we decided to go all touristy and visit a museum and some churches.  The museum was probably the coolest museum I've seen in Georgia (not a very large comparison chart, here, though), though it was lacking some proper labels.  Fair enough.  Then we killed some time in a pretty chill park before catching our marsh to Gelati (a church), after which we planned to hike down to Motsameta (another church).  We payed our respects to Georgian Historical Figure David the Builder (by NOT standing on his grave and taking pictures, like some Georgians there [edit: apparently, DtB wished that people would "stand on his heart" and wrote some poem about it. So that's all apparently cool with him.]) and asked some friendly priests where the legendary hiking trail down the mountain was located.  "Don't try.  You'll get lost.  You need a guide to help you down it," they said.  So we took our leave and searched on our own.  We hiked for about an hour, and when we met up with some cows that didn't look too happy to see us, we decided to just go back up and catch the marshutka to Kutaisi proper.

After a small reprieve at the hostel, we decided to venture up the funicular to check out the Ferris wheel we saw from afar.  We discovered not only a Ferris wheel, but a WHOLE (nearly) LEGIT THEMEPARK, complete with a "DROP ZONE" (!!!!!), over which Krisanne and I totally prevailed.  Pictures to come.

We rounded out the day of celebrating America by going back to the brewery and having some Freedom Beer.  (Yeah, yeah, I drank some beer.  It was "black".  Josh, you and I may be sharing some lagers when I get back.)  And, finally, our day ended sweetly by munching on some cake at the hostel.  Where did we get cake?  We bought it at a place near the park.  How did the cake get to the hostel?  I carried it up the hill.  In a box the size of a pizza box.  Sans lid.  Yeah, freedom ain't free, and neither is enjoying cake in celebration of it.

Kutaisi's final grade: B.  Try to not be so racist next time, dudes.

New photos!

In addition to my new post yesterday/this morning, I finally got a backlog of photos from spring and summer up. Check 'em out! (Zapxuli and Gazapxuli 2011)

The "Me Miyvars Sakartvelo/Get Outta Dodge" Dichotomy.

This post, a mere half a month after my previous post, might send some of you into cardiac arrest.  I think the risk of that, however, is smaller than the risk of death by head-on collision in Georgia (either by cars or by banging heads against walls-- though marsh drivers now insist on passengers wearing seatbelts on the highway, because the fine is hella high.  So the latter option is more likely.)  I gotta get my story out before that happens, so it's a risk I'm willing to take.  Hope you see things my way ; )

Sometimes I'm nostalgic, and sometimes I'm definitely ready to get the ef outta here.  These will be indicated by the following:
M<3S = Me <3 Sakartvelo.
GOD! = Get Outta Dodge.

Davitz'k'ot!! Let's begin!!

GOD!:  Sitting in the teacher's lounge isn't really a pleasure anymore.  I'm used to retreating to the secretary/accountant/IT manager room with those 3 awesome girls.  They let me chill, talk to me like I'm a normal person, and occasionally offer me coffee and/or a light lunch, which is nice on the days I'm at school 'til 5 with Ana, teaching the doctors.  You're waiting for the GOD! factor, right?  I was in the teacher's lounge, trying to plan an informal English language/culture summer camp (i.e. reading and watching movies with kids for a few hours during weekdays).  A teacher came up to me and monologued, "Do you really have to go in July?  That's awful.  Stay.  You should stay in Georgia.  Get married and settle down in Akhalsopeli.  I can't believe you Americans.  You come here, we fall in love with you, and then you just leave.  Don't you feel anything?"  I should be nonplussed by this, considering that everyone and their grandmother is suggesting that I get married and stay here and is asking if I'll miss Georgia.  Also, this particular teacher is quite obviously psychologically unsound, so I'm used to weird comments from her ("Your skin is so white!  You're so beautiful!!"  "Why didn't my son get a 10?  I see how it is, whoever goes to Madga for private lessons gets a 10. [more on this kid and my feelings about that in a later post]"  "I don't like Chinese people. [in response to my comment "I like Chinese food"]").  So, to this I replied, "Well, you see, it's because we Americans have such cold hearts."  She agreed, I closed my notebook and then retreated to the secretary/accountant/IT manager room.

M<3S:  Anyway!  You may have seen from my facebook status a while back that I was "ice cream'd."
Translation: I went on a tour of an ICE CREAM FACTORY!  Thanks to Jess's ballin'ness and 3 degrees of separation from ice cream factory goodness, she got us into a tour last Monday.  If you think this means my Monday was the most delicious day I've had in Georgia, filled with fresh boxes, cones, and chocolate covered bars straight from the spigot, you're right.  My frozen American heart was melted by the deliciousness of the "cold heart of Kakheti."

M<3S/GOD!:  Before the ice cream tour, we had BURN IT DOWN!!: Burning unnecessary things from service, part 1: the Lagodekhi tour.  I stopped by Magda's house to say goodbye and drop off something for her.  I stayed to talk and be polite, and as I was rushing to the marsh station, I saw the last marsh rolling away before my eyes, 10 minutes before the posted time.  Luckily, I hoofed it to the bottom of the hill and managed to catch some Georgian hospitality from a neighbor's relative.  Good thing, too.  BID!! part 1 was just what I needed, complete with beer pong and weenie roasting (among other entendres).  Stay tuned for BID!!: part 2, Kvareli edition, on the Interwebs everywhere this June!

M<3S:  During Burn It Down!!: part 1, I met an awesome guy visiting Georgia who's interested in linguistics, and casually mentioned to him the nearby village where the rare Udi language is spoken.  Since my director's wife is from there, I called and asked if he wouldn't mind taking us around and talking with a few people.  On Sunday, my Director picked up Ian and I from my house and we adventured over to Zinobiani, stopped at his wife's relative's friend's house and were ushered in with hugs and "What are you doing in the street?  Get out of that car and into my house!!"   There, we started to chat with 4 older ladies.  I was soon goaded into this lady's kitchen to make coffee for everyone who wanted it-- that, although neither of us actually wanted it, turned out to be Ian and myself.  Now, I know that drinking coffee with guests is the polite thing to do, so I'm used to drinking coffee when I don't want it.  However, I'm not used to -making- coffee in someone else's house the first time I visit.  The lady chattered away so nonchalantly, she made it seem like this was normal.  Anyway, the ladies were super shy, but he managed to get a few recordings of some real, live Udi at their place and the museum where (Eto will agree with me) the director is a spazz who LOVES to blabber on and on despite the fact that my guest didn't know Georgian, and I can't translate 10-minute blocks of blah-blah-blah text.  Whatev!  We also chatted with Sandro Papa, the old Ossetian guy who I'm in love with who lives with the nearby relatives.  He didn't really understand what was going on (he thought Ian WAS Ossetian), but his face lit up whenever we were delighted with a few sentences in his native language.  Check for photos of this adventure on Stalkernet.  Since Ian is actually living in Serbia, he made a traditional Serbian dish for dinner.  I always enjoy foods that are new and different (except maybe aspics), I love cooking with people, and the fam liked it, to boot!  Dirispaca to the Zenobiani ladies, and dendjhir buzneg to Sandro and Salome for helping us out.

M<3S:  One thing I'll definitely miss here are a few I've met who have amazing hearts, and happen to be my students.  Yesterday I got a small sachukari bag from 2 of my favorite 5th grade girls.  Included were earrings, bracelets, a necklace, lip gloss, a homemade scarf/belt, and the following note.

Translation: Paula!  Dear Paula, your (familiar, not formal) leaving really makes our hearts ache.  But, what can we do-- such is life.  We will miss you very much.  We wish you won't forget us.  From, Mari and Eto.

Not included: my eyes, dry.

<3

You can't always get what you need...

Hey hey, loyal readership.

Much has occurred since your eyes last desperately searched for an update on the breakneck-paced, exciting life of your favorite White Crow.

If you know anything about my life the past two years, I'm sure you can guess which part of that sentence is a lie and which is truth.

Really, though, news headlines! My good friend who's helped carry me through these past 2 years just had a birthday.  And it was epic.  I'm so glad she's been in my life.  I hope to visit her in sunny Cali when we get back!

I visited Vardzia, the cave city, two weekends ago with a group o' volunteer gals.  It was pretty sweet.  Also I'm glad I didn't spend two years of my life learning this language to get ripped off by sketch taxi drivers.

I just read Memoirs of a Geisha.  Sugoi!

Don't worry, I'm fine, regardless of the political protests that have been going on in the capital.  As one volunteer said, they're all usually home in time to watch the Spanish soaps.  My host sister in law says they don't know what they want politically, they're just trying to stir up some chaos.

Eto's dance group was in Tbilisi this past weekend, with Mtiuluri and Dagestani numbers, and they won 2 medals, for best choreography and jury's choice!  Vulocav!!! : D

A few of the girls at work started running in the mornings today.  I think it's AWESOME!! I hope they last it out!!!

So that's it for the shorts.  Now the long philosophical rant.

I'll first preface this with a bittersweet musing on the fact that my time in God's Garden (not the one people got kicked out of) is coming to an end, quickly.  My innards are rejoicing with the promise of regular intestinal function and reduced stress on the liver.  I'm rejoicing at the prospect of cooking treacle tart and also attending clubs and dance class with my future roommate.  But the possibility that I'll never again seeing these people who I've lived and worked with for two years?  Whose kid am I gonna half-listen to as he tells me about this huge book of fairy tales he read as his mom and I are lesson planning and then catch him in an trap for alligators made of my feet?  Who will toast to the importance of telling your children "you can" instead of "you're stupid" and then solemnly insist to the nosy Georgian woman that I "had a Georgian suitor but the boy's parents forbade him to marry an American girl."?  Who will introduce me as her "sister-in-law"?


For every nostalgic musing on what I'll miss, there are things in the here and now that I won't. This past week, I (again) suffered an attack of nerves in which I made myself physically sick with negative emotions.  Why? One too many straws on this metaphorical camel.  For all the nourishment I'm getting in this country, I don't have the right routine, I don't have the right relationships from the people I work and live with, and I don't have the right intellectual stimulation.

Routine-wise: Too much coffee, bread, alcohol, starch; not enough variety.  I want salads without mayonnaise, tacos, wraps, fruit, ice cream, sweet corn.  I want dance and walks without people telling me to come in for coffee or that I'm fat.  I want showers every day without feeling like an imposition on the household.  I want days where I don't itch from the bug bites I constantly nurse.  I want things to do other than eat and talk with people I have run out of things to talk with other than food and my weight and staying in Georgia (and fixing peoples' computers).

Relationshipwise: I want respect from the children (aka support of a well-established disciplinary system) and the tools/ability/experience to help children with obvious psychological disorders (and their parents with other disorders).  I want respect from the teachers that comes not from the fact that I'm a foreigner with magic knowledge of a language but a competent human being who enjoys gossiping with my colleagues only as an addition to being productive with them and not because there's nothing else to do.  I want to feel like I'm a positive contribution to the household rather than "in the way" in the kitchen or seen as "too busy" to help other people.  And I want my friendships to be reciprocated; I'm always being a guest and never receiving them in return.  I'm overgiving and overgetting in ways that don't leave me balanced.

And I need stimulation!  I am extrinsically motivated; I need to surround myself with people who are self-motivated and share/urge me to be the same.  I need to be with the weirdos; those who see the world a little bit differently than the majority because some impetus has disrupted their lives from being shaped the same as everyone around them.  I have more important things in common with these black sheep, or black goats, or white crows, than I do with all the normally colored American livestock I came from.  They know how to listen to what my heart says even if they didn't know English from birth.  And vice versa.


As this stimulation is lacking, I'm falling farther and farther behind in what I need to do.  I've never been good with timing.  It's connected to my inner motivation; I think my internal clock isn't set quite right, so I need to rely on others so I'm not late for everything and to help me out of pickles when I am late.  However, these last two weeks of school and last two months of service I need to be with the times.



And, thus, life goes on.


P.S. Hungry? See what the world has to offer. ; D

Happy Birthday, Dediko!

This one's for Mom.  I didn't know whether I should e-mail or blog, but I want to let the world know how awesome she is.  So here goes.

I know I'm far away, and physical presents are hard (because I don't plan ahead and have them shipped from online shopping).  But presents don't have to be physical.

Mom, you've been invaluable support while I'm over here.  When I'm feeling bad, I crave a talk with you because then I feel like I have a connection with home.  And you usually get Grandma's "feeling" when I need to talk to you!

When you came over and met my host family, I realized where my skill for listening and intuiting came from. (It's the same place my short temper did. : ) ) You taught me to listen and act not only according to the words people use, but according to what they are trying to say.  Every time I introduced you and Dad to someone here, I saw you do just that.  Half the time, I didn't have to translate, even though you had no idea what Shorena was saying.  "Mother's intuition."

The other day, my friend Ana told me that she's happy that I happened upon the village and became her coworker; for all the random computer things I've been able to teach her, she said the important thing she's learned from me was to listen.

That skill, in short, is how I've accomplished whatever I have here.  Many people just want someone to listen to them in a world where they can only find someone to hear them speak, if they're lucky.

Sometimes I wish I had the ability to listen to myself.  But beggars can't be choosers.  At least I have you!

Happy birthday, Mom.  I wish you many more years of health, family, love, and life.  From, your little one.

Hygiene Poster Contest!

Okay, I know that Earth Day's past and Easter just happened and I have cool stories about getting three sheets to the wind and jumping over a fire in the middle of the street (okay, that's Chiakokonoba in a nutshell, and though I did jump over the fire, I didn't actually drink anything that day [sadly]) and grave visiting (much to your excitement, Mom ; D ) and there was also another funeral in the family this past week, BUT this is long overdue.  So, without further adieu:

This is the project I did with my director, thanks to Appropriate Projects.

Read that, or the next part doesn't make as much sense.  (don't forget the conclusion link at the bottom for more pictures and commentary!)

The next part:

One of the art teachers agreed to co-host a contest with me.  We planned logistics and organized the jury for judging.  Much of the work on the entries was done by 1-2 students rather than the whole class (with teacher help.... weird.)  But I'm pleased with the turnout, and I think it was a fun thing for the kids to do to help celebrate the making of water stations at school.  Now we only need reliable electricity so the water pump works all the time.  Also soap.


Here're the entries for your viewing pleasure:

Hygiene Poster Contest 2011

...
WASH YOUR HANDS!

Closure?

Winter is coming to a close.  The month of March, in which Peace Corps turns 50, is coming to a close.  The second Akhalsopeli Computer Training for teachers and doctors just came to a close.  A fitting time for a conference regarding two years of service coming to a close, no?

So, back up.  The training came to a close.  Mostly.  There's still a doctor who needs to make up the last two weeks of lessons and take the final exam.  I need to consult with Ana about the certificates.  And I need to tell her I plan to be a feedback giver on this third (and for me, final) training.  Another Volunteer and I plan to compile our training materials into a nice, helpful, Georgian IT Training Material Amassment (title in progress).  Thus concludes my contribution of IT to Peace Corps Georgia.

Winter is coming to a close.  That means warm weather, physical activity, and smiles, right?  Well, warm weather brings with it everything that has pincers, proboscises, and a palate for human flesh.  What does that mean for me? 21 bites.  Yay!  Thankfully, our med staff is amazingly helpful in providing anitihistamines in various mediums.  However, my legs haven't been quite the same after a 3 hour walk one day 3 weeks ago.  Although I'd like to start waking up my muscles, they're more Georgianized than I thought.  So I have another month to walk the balance between enlargening the size of my behind and causing surgery-serious tendon or muscle damage.

March is coming to a close.  At such a time was the Close of Service conference, which provided not only a week of hot showers and bugless atmosphere, but also information for looking forward to the next few months of our lives.  I realized I need to be thankful for the support I have.  I realized I need to start organizing travel plans.  I also need to step it up and relish in every moment, both heart-warmingly wonderful and mind-numbingly awful, especially as I head into the next transition.

Peace!

Paula

P.S.  If you haven't, check out my life!

Roller Coaster of the Caucasus.

The Hygeine Poster Contest Award Ceremony is taking longer to accomplish than I thought it would.  Reasons?

1) Everyone at school has gone through their cycle of being sick for a week or so.  Including both my counterparts and the teacher I was doing the contest with, so last week was especially fun.  Cough.
2) It's Georgia.

So, I'll give you a draft I found lurking in my backlog (because much of it is still relevant/the same old), and prep another blog post later this week about what's been going on.

First order of business:  Giving Thanks.

I gave thanks multiple times this year.

• Once, I guess, at the All Vol conference in a huuuumongo group.  That was more of a period of not sleeping and drinking too much (every night.. not used to this) and talking about ridiculous things and philosophy and whatever else is a topic of great importance at 2 in the morning.

• Second Thanksgiving: I baked two pumpkin pies in the pechi this year.  One I shared with the 8th graders after they wrote an e-mail to my World Wise Schools correspondent about how they celebrate Christmas and New Year and Giorgoba.  The other I sent to the teachers lounge for them to enjoy while I sped off to Thanksgiving number three...

• in Tbilisi.  Good conversation, good people, good mood, good food.  Not all my axloblebi, but a couple good friends (one who's a good cook) and a good group of people and a 13 kilo turkey, not to mention an awesome girl who shares an odd kinship with me.

• Last Thanksgiving this year: in Telavi.  I still didn't get to help make pies, but Jeff and Tina helped me make PEANUT BUTTER (!!!!) and I helped Barb make pumpkin bread with a little of the leftover pumpkin.  The peanut butter is delicious, albeit a little... dry.  But it's chunky and au naturale, baby!  And not bad with apples from the backyard. (as long as I cut out the bad parts.  The apples are au naturale, too.)  But, anyways, it goes without saying that the people who were in Telavi are awesome people and a good time was had, despite faking sick on the marsh there so I didn't make people mad for having to pee, and my typical moody self flaring up, and not being able to shower. ("It takes a lot of money to heat the gas.  If you can be quick, go ahead.  But everyone will want to shower.  I'm sure you understand.")

 Things that annoy me:

Working seemingly all the time but never really having anything to show for it.  It's not like I have THAT MANY hours at school or a million (really, any) afterschool clubs (I guess the computer training counts) or other projects or keep in touch with friends back home or other volunteers.  Where does my time go?

Advice from "experts":

•  "You run on the stadium, right?  You should breathe only through your mouth when you run.  I'm a sportsman.  Just so you know."
• "Your hands, they're so dry!  You should use special lotion.  It's in drugstores.  It's got glycerin in it.  Then wear gloves all the time."
• "You should stay here for the rest of your life.  Don't you like Georgia?  She doesn't want to stay.  That means she doesn't like Georgia.  If she did, she would stay.

/end backlog

I think I will start a blog logging only the 3 things I'm thankful for each day.  That way, when my notebook runs out (both the paper one and the one I'm typing on, I guess) it'll exist somewhere.  Kinda like myself.

Now, back to work!  I asked my director for the off--and the initial reason, being a guest trainer elsewhere, has been (surprise!) postponed.  I'm still taking the personal day to get some work done, because heaven knows I need it!

The little things.

ese igi,

During the glorious vacation described in the previous post, I realized my depressing tendency to be depressive all the time, and I got-- well, you know.  It's a cycle.

So, to combat the Lamenting Linda syndrome, I decided to write each day in my little notebook (gift from the English teacher I don't work with anymore) 3 things I'm thankful for from that day.  I'd like to start either another blog or maybe twitter or something to keep track of these updates.  I haven't decided yet.  But, bottom line is, I have been feeling better about things.  Also making goals helps.  Stress eating bread and honey and not exercising does not.

Not that this time of the year has been the greatest time of year for me before.  As the one-year anniversary of my last and closest grandparent not being alive came and went, I found myself having a terrible week (at least I knew, in part, why) and escaped to my friend's place in the next town this weekend, and I was telling her that I'm going to buy some flowers when I get back and go visit Grandma's grave, because I haven't physically gotten to say goodbye yet, and the same thing happens to my friend one year later, when I just so happened to be there talking to her about my grandma.


In other news, I'm going to go to school tomorrow to work on the computers with Ana.  We need to fix them up for the technology training that's going on now.  Well, we didn't have this week because we had a SNOW DAY!!!!!!!!

Now, I know what you're thinking, Iowans.  No, snow days here do not consist of waking up at 5 in the morning and listening to the radio, praying that enough snow will dump before the deadline for the supervisor to make the call that the roads would be too dangerous for school buses to make the journey.  Think without the waking up early, without the warmth, without the planning ahead of time, and without knowing that school will be canceled until right after 1st lesson happens.  BUT!!! My Georgian snow day still consisted of making snowmen (and women) and chilling out with friends.

And I know what you're thinking, PCVs in the Greater Caucasus.  You don't have shortened classes anyway, because of heat/kids not coming/sickness/whatever excuse they're using today?  No, because our school has hot-water-pipe heating that's firewood fueled, and it's actually on ALL day until people want to leave.  Amazing, huh?

We also, thanks to Appropriate Projects, have 4 places with running water in our school.  I'll post more appropriately on that later, with the results of the currently underway hygiene poster contest.


Anyway, I'll leave you with a ponder pondered by one of my students while learning the word "thirty":
"Paula Mas and Magda Mas, why is there no "th" in Georgian?"
Most schools in this country teach kids how to memorize, not how to think.
Oh, and he's 9 years old.

Back to life, back to reality... (plus! Bonus: Dreams of Christmas, passed)

or Georgian reality, anyway.
I just got back from vacation!  I've experienced some interesting things here.  And it's about time I took a vacation.  I didn't leave the country my whole first year of service, which means I was home (my second one) for the holidays.  All of them.  But this time I decided to forego the supra-a-day-til-February and got outta dodge just as the holiday season began.  The adventure went thusly.

Zeimis and the Great Escape:
Befor I left, I had to oversee the Christmas "zeimi" or event that Madga and I cooked up for our kids.  All our classes participated (3,4,5,8).  You'll wish you could have seen the 3rd graders memorizing groups of sounds that, when recited, eerily resemble the first verse of "'Twas the Night Before Christmas".  You'll also wish you could have tasted the delicious homemade cutout cookies I made, complete with frosting.  But don't regret too much; you wouldn't have been able to squeeze in the room amongst the parents and other kids who talked through the whole thing.  The 4th graders' "Some people sing songs to people in hospitals or go to church," was lost in the void that is lots of Georgians attending an event.  Indeed, there was only chaos as the 5th graders raced to complete their Christmas Crossword.  The fireplace didn't make an appearance, either, due to projector impertinence.  I gave up.

At least the kids had fun singing their songs in class every day for the previous two weeks ("Jingle Bells, Jingle Bell Rock, and We Wish You a Merry Christmas), and the 8th graders pulled together a hilarious scene of a family prepping for Christmas (complete with a short, sunglassed Santa).  Even the weaker students shone as Georgian emcees and dancers.

The next day I was coerced into serving as the 3rd grade's "Christmas Around the World" slideshow attendant (which I'd shown their homeroom teacher how to create :] ) as well as 8th grade's zeimi's DJ, until the time of the last marshutka to Tbilisi, when I HAD to find a replacement and cut out.


Birthday bash and Christmas Eve:
One thing I didn't get cut was my hair.  Host sister-in-law said she'd cut it Thursday night but forgot.  Instead she offered to straighten in the next morning before I left.  So, with my freshly straightened mullet, I partied it out with the PCVs in Tbilisi.  We got Indian food and had drinks at the classiest bar in town.

Scene: Radisson Rooftop Lounge.
Me: I'll have a... umm... uh... White Russian!
Jeff: Oh, me too!
Waitress brings glasses.
Jeff: Umm... a White Russian has Kahlua in it.
Waitress takes glasses, brings glasses back.
Me: It's... lumpy.

Lesson learned: even if you pay out the nose for a drink, the bartender might have no idea how to make it, so you may have to spend the night stirring out the chunks.

Whatever.  We got to enjoy the lights of the most famous street in town by walking down the middle of it in the middle of the night.  And a lady at the Mariott gave us glasses for our cheap Georgian champagne, and free peanuts.  Little America knows customer service!

Christmas was cool, too, with eggnog and White Elephant gift exchange and a party at a friend's place with interesting people who work at the embassy and as Fulbrights and cool stuff like that.

Before leaving the country, Cara and I triumphantly found a French restaurant in the middle of nowhere that we'd wasted hours failing to find before.  I wasted money on some skinny jeans, contributing to my now-impending freaking out about my finances.  (They're a little too big, and the bottom button broke.  And they'd have been half price in Turkey.  Live and learn?) But "NO BUYER'S REMORSE ALLOWED!"


Istanbul (not Constantinople [unless you look on the Greek map]):
Barring a bomb threat at the Tbilisi airport when we arrived, causing us to freeze our toes off and have our flight delayed half an hour, we finally got OUT!  And what a wonderful and mysterious land we landed in!  Filled with yummy Turkish delights such as doner and hummus and Starbucks, but not real "Turkish delights"... nobody likes "Turkish delights."  They're icky.
It was also cool to be in the land of mosques.
In Georgia the culture is certainly different from America.  But in Georgia, the churches have familiar images: Jesus, Mary, and Saints (especially St. George).  In Istanbul, throughout the day, you could hear the call to prayer in Arabic ringing from the minarets everywhere you turn.  And, although you could wander into a dozen Burger Kings, you could look for a bacon cheeseburger on the menu and never find it.  Visiting the mosques is a process: as in Georgia, women must have their heads covered and are recommended to wear a skirt.  Everyone must be dressed modestly (no shorts!).  Before entering the mosque, you have to wait outside for the tourists to finish taking off their shoes and stuff them into a plastic bag to carry inside and leave a space on the ledge so that you can rush in and do the same.  Once inside, you're free to marvel.  Every millimeter is decorated with intricate geometrical patterns in blue and red and black and gold and purple and you pad along the carpet and take in every millimeter by the light of chandeliers with electric candles.

Istanbul is very tourist-welcoming, too.  In the Grand Bazaar, as you walk past the stalls you are enticed with "Yes, please, come in," "Madame," "Guttentag," as the multilingual stallowners try to guess your nationality and earn your business.  One carpet-seller in the city greeted us with an enterprising, "Let me help you spend your money!"

And the Authentic Turkish Bath we found on the nontouristy Asian side was one of those Unique Cultural Experiences, with captial letters.  We found it floundering about, asking various Turks who didn't speak English, "Hammam (bath)?" and trying to understand their pointing.  When we finally got there, we had some help from a lone French tourist, which was nice because the ladies who ran the thing didn't know English and we didn't know Turkish.  We got more than what we paid for, dumping water on ourselves until the lady scrubbed away the first layer of our skin with a loofah and instructed us, via hand motions, to keep dumping.  ...And then we got some delicious, drippy bakhlava!!

New Year's was pretty chill.  We had some drinks at a bar and then had some drinks at another bar and line danced with some Turkish dudes and watched people set off fireworks in the street.  No Cozy Bar or 17.50 lira margaritas, though, sorry Jim. <3


The 70s Come Alive:
The night train from Istanbul to Thessaloniki was pretty cool.  It was an olive green relic from the 70s, making me feel like some sort of James Bond movie reject.  But we got to hang out with an awesome girl we met at the hostel in Istanbul, who's teaching English in Slovakia and was on vacation with her mom.


The Night When Dive Hotels Didn't Make The Best Stories, Just Higher Blood Pressure.
Staying in Thessalonika was a mistake.  We walked to the hotel we'd found on hostelbookers that was near the train station.  We went up to the 4 person room.  When we opened the door, it was as if we'd just turned the key of a forgotten can of sardines, stored next to the formaldehyde in the morgue for 340 years after the plague.  And whose fault was it that we stayed there?  The poor sap who booked the room.  Cough.  So I was responsible for talking to the clerk and not getting us gypped into paying extra for two inhabitable rooms.


Athens!
The first time I went to Athens during study abroad, I thought it was a big, kinda dirty city with lots of ruins.  This time, I thought it was a medium, kinda clean city with lots of ruins.  One night, we hung out with an awesome girl we'd met at the hostel in Istanbul, gone to the Turkish baths with, and ended up taking the same train to Thessalonika and staying at the same place in Athens.  Weird!  The new Acropolis Museum was especially neat, showing the famous Parthenon in all its glory.  Well, glorified not as an exact replica but as a reconstruction, with modern, black columns and plaster casts of the incredible sculptures that adorned its roof (many of the original pieces belong to the British Museum).But a couple days of walking around and eating delicious gyros and moussaka and looking at old things, we decided to make like Spartans and get on a ship outta there.


Island Chills:
On the Blue Star Ferry to Santorini I learned what a Muster Station is, I lost many games of spades, and I resisted many urges to buy special Blue Star souvenirs from our gift shop, now open for business (every hour and a half or so).  We were then picked up by our hostel dude and driven up the volcanic island to the set for Mamma Mia!  Well, it was actually filmed on a different island, but it sure looked like it.  We rented a car and explored the island's black and red beaches, were disappointed again and again by the Greek desserts that look better than they taste, and tried to watch the sunset by the windmill in one of the eerie off-season ghost towns.  It was great!


One thing that amazed me is that we got by in all these places only using English.  Even travellers we met from Germany and France and Brazil used English with the hostel clerks and in restaurants.  But learning a little of the language goes a long way-- when I said "Kali mera!" (Good morning) to one of the street artists in Athens, he stopped me and talked to me as he made a cute metal pin with a treble clef and a heart, which he gave to me as a gift.


I didn't miss all of the holiday season when I got back to Georgia.  It was still happening, because they celebrate two Christmases and two New Years, according to the old calendar.  We had guests and supras every day the first week I got back.  Although it's a happy, celebratory time, for me it means I'm waiting for warmer weather and longer days so I can start running again and get back into shape!

Yesterday I was feeling especially bad.  There's no space of my own here where I can work without feeling like I'm imposing on Shorena's cleaning habits of sweeping and mopping the floor 2-4 times a day, and that doesn't make my hands stiff from the cold after 3 seconds of being away from the one room in the house with a pechi that's only warm sometimes because everyone leaves the door wide open.  Also everyone has been telling me that I've gained weight and my face looks fatter, multiple times even though it's obvious I'm not flattered by the comment the first time.  Thanks for the sensitivity.

So I wanted to run.  I gambled that the stadium would be free and put on my running clothes, extra-chilled.  When I got there, there were kids playing football (soccer).  They don't play football for one or two hours here, they play it until they can't see the ball in front of them.  So I was frustrated, but there's more than one way to skin a cat.  I headed the road toward the river.  Seeing the way completely soaked with mud, I thought I'd try running on the street.  Ten seconds later, I had three dogs barking and chasing after me, who didn't respond to me turning around and threatening them with a rock.  So I was done.  I fumed and took an hour-long walk.  Then I went to ANOTHER supra and had some VEGETABLES and FRUIT which compared with my past two days' food (rice and muraba, bread and butter and honey, bread and matsoni, bread and butter, pickled cabbage, and a bowl of "veggie" soup featuring potatoes and beef bits.. yum...) was a FEAST FOR A MEPE!!!!

Although I love living in Georgia, I'm looking toward the future.  I'm going through the book What Color Is Your Parachute and trying to figure out my "skills" and "abilities" and trying to see if I actually have any dreams.  I'll keep you updated.  Any advice would not be ill-taken.

So now you've gotten through this book-of-an-update!  What are you going to do now?

Please say sitting freshly showered in your nice, warm, central-heated haven with hot chocolate and a salad.  That's what I'd do, if I could.


Love!