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.
Showing posts with label lesson planning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lesson planning. Show all posts
Sunday, September 19
Tuesday, June 22
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:
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.
Friday, January 22
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!
Saturday, July 4
Week two.
28 June 2009
Sunday
It's gvira today, and I think there will be much adventuring today. We're going to visit the castle finally sometime today, and we're going to a 40-day-after-funeral supra at Katelyn's place, and I want to bathe today.
And yesterday was very event-filled, as well. We had shabatis skola (Saturday school), and then lunch at Katelyn's house. Mind you, she lives like 20 minutes away from the school, uphill. And Lauren was invited to a supra in the woods type deal with a volunteer from another village and his host family and the other volunteers in the village. We hiked back to our houses, explained (sort of) what we were doing to our host families, changed clothes, and hiked down to the highway to catch a marshutka. A marshutka is a gregarious, vagarious, nefarious, but mostly precarious looking mini-van that drives between villages for a small fare; it's kind of like a cross between a bus and a taxi. There're how we roll here in Georgia. So with our limited language skills, Lauren and I managed to catch a marshutka to the right village—although, he dropped us off at the edge of town and not at the school. But all we had to do was walk up the road a ways, so it was okay. We met up with a volunteer and went to meet the family.
Limited communication is so hard. You don't want to feel like you're shunning the family, but it's so easy to talk in English and so hard to ask “rogor aris qartulad?” (how do you say this in Georgian?) every few minutes to the younger person in the group who inevitably speaks English. But we got to hike to their vineyard and garden, saw their plants, had a mini-supra in the woods, sang songs, and all was good. The bebia and another guy were amazing singers. I had my camera there, and another volunteer took pictures and a couple videos with it, so hopefully I'll get it from him sometime (I lent him my card).
So, they sang, right? And, I had brought the pictures of my friends, which showed I was in choir. So, we Americans were asked to sing. We sang the Star-Spangled Banner, because they sang what sounded like Georgia, the Beautiful. It was such an awesome time. I'm very glad we went. But we have to be back on-site by 7 every night for safety and security reasons, so we had to leave early.
Instead of catching a marshutka back, a family friend who has a car offered to drive us back. We got in their car, picked up the guy's daughter who spoke English and wanted to meet the Americans, and drove back to our village while we tried to explain to the girl that we work for the US government and aren't taking Georgian jobs. We think she thought we are taking jobs that she could have... so it was a little awkward sitting with her in the back when we turned into our village and the car broke down. Now, Lauren and I could have walked, no prob, but we wanted to make sure they would be able to make it back. Someone from Better-a helped them out, and we made our way to Lauren's place. I didn't want to have to have them drive me up to my place, so I just got off with Lauren. I'm glad that happened, because Lauren and I are on the Party Planning Committee for the 4th of July Cultural Event Day to be held next shabati, so we got some good ideas down for that.
It's gonna be awesome! We're hoping for lots of traditional American foods, like hamburgers, potato salad, baked beans, chips, ice cream sandwiches, brownies, etc. The staff will try their darndest to make it happen. We're also hoping to get some wood to make boards, a saw, and washers for Washers/Corn hole with washers, or maybe some horseshoes and stakes for Horseshoes. We'll get some inter-village competitions going on, and it'll be awesome. We get to invite two people, and I invited my two host sisters (last night during the storm when the electricity got damaged and went out). They are super excited about coming.
I really want to learn Georgian so that I know my host mom and dad don't think I'm a spazz. I want to have them teach me how to cook Georgian dishes, and I want to be able to talk with them without a translator, so that they can tell me things like how to heat up water for my bath without me feeling like an absolute idiot because I don't know what the Georgian word for “turn it off” is, so I stand there looking (and feeling helpless). Actually, the other night, I had a dream about my teeth being rotted and held together with rickety dentistry, and then they just fell out in a big chunk and my mouth gushed blood everywhere. I mean, it was pouring out by the bucketful. I think it was just a reflection of how helpless I feel, that I don't even have good, strong teeth to serve my most basic of needs.
And you never realize how much trash we as Americans create. Our group discussed it at shabati skola, and then Lauren and the others and I talked about this yesterday at the mini supra in the woods. We volunteers have barely been able to locate a single trash can in our homes. I know we have three; one under the kitchen sink, one next to the commode, and one outside somewhere. But they're all very small. Most garbage is placed deliberately on the side of the road. But, really, houses don't create that much garbage, it seems. And I feel tons guiltier about my half-an-hour showers when I take my bucket bath and don't use a whole bucket.
Anyway, speaking of which, I should go start that.
01 July, 2009
samshabati
So, I'm going to go out with my host sister in about 20 minutes, but I want to get a little journaling in before I do. Yesterday was pretty intense for me. We had our mini LPIs (language proficiency interviews). How did it go, you may wonder? Well. I wasn't awful, I suppose. But I was nowhere near being able to understand her on the first go. Or second. Or after some deliberation. So I felt pretty numb until sitting in the hot classroom talking about methods to teach English vocabulary to Georgian students just fried my brain. I got home, sat at the magida, attempted to do homework, decided that a little resting would be a good idea, then as soon as my head hit the pillow, before I knew it I was leaking like a faucet. So I sneaked down to the abazana to wash my face with some cool water ('cause it's so damn HOT in the afternoons! [and 'cause I'd made myself all hot and bothered and flushed]) and my host mom saw me looking miserable. It made it worse that I couldn't really tell her what was bothering me—because that's exactly what was bothering me! Language barriers, pardon my language, suck balls. She called Tatia in to translate my half-intelligible mumblings. But she hugged me and told Tatia to get my water, and told me to not do any studying that day. So I took some time off in my room and just lay there in my bed. I was aware-ened by an SMS from Katlyn, another volunteer, who invited me to go play frisbee with the kids at the school stadium. That jump-started me to wind up the Victrola of myself back to life and got my butt out of bed.
We went to the stadium and threw some frisbee and played some volleyball. I was coerced into an Americans vs. Georgians game. Somehow we won! Lauren and Brian and Kyle totally carried the team; Katelyn and I were just kinda there. Sometimes we helped the ball stay aloft, so that was okay. Whatevs. Then I decided to go back home. I'd told Katelyn that I had felt a little off that day, so she talked to me. She told me to keep in context how long I've been here, that I am learning, that no one becomes fluent even in 2 years, and then she told me about her communicating with her host mom last year. Sometimes... you don't need to understand the words to understand the sentiment. Tsota gavige... vpikrob.
Then she gave me a Snickers and told me to take one weekly, as needed. I think that's a pretty darn good prescription to follow.
The days are just so long, though, and simultaneously so short. I feel like I get very little done, but it takes so long to do it all.
I do feel better today. Our group's dynamic is just so that it's hard not to be happy when I'm with them, even if we're learning a ridiculously different-from-English language at a ridiculously rapid pace. Good satchmeli (food) helps, too. Mmm, kveli.
I think my sister's ready to go out. I'm not too keen on it, but it might make me feel better. I'd also like to have some tutoring with Ana tonight, too, so we'll see. Blegh!
02 July, 2009
hootshabati
The days definitely have their good and their bad. Yesterday, the good points: I talked with my host mom about coffee. She's very interested in differences between America and Sakartvelo, as are pretty much all Kartvelian people. So I told her that we have instant coffee and drip coffee. I also told her about espresso and cappuccinos, but I don't want to try to explain Starbucks. I don't understand Starbucks myself. That was actually part of our lunch conversation today; Ana asked about coffee, too. We have Turkish coffee here after every meal and whenever we visit a house and whenever I ask for it at breakfast time and randomly throughout the day sometimes. Here's how you make it:
One covsi-ful (spoon) of Turkish (VERY finely ground) kava (coffee)
One covsi-ful of shakari (sugar)
One pikrulob-ful (teacup) of water
Put all ingredients in tiny saucepan, bring just to a boil, pour in pikrulob. Enjoy with chocolates, tea cakes, cookies, biscuits, whatever. rogor tsginda.
Om nom nom. My host mom's coffee is the best. It's so thick you can almost chew it. I seriously like it. And I'm getting used to the really, really salty khveli (cheese). It's expecially good with cornbread (tchadi). I don't remember if I already wrote this, but I helped my host mom make tchadi one day! Well, all I did was form the dough that she had made into lumps and stick it in the oil. Two of them, to be exact. I know, cool, right? But hopefully I'll get to help her with more food prep, because I have a presentation about Georgian food to do at the end of PST. Actually, she said I might make pizza tomorrow night. But my sister is fasting for a religious holiday. Which means she can't eat dairy products. We had Georgian style pizza tonight—with tomatoes, peppers, dill, and instead of tomato sauce, mayo. Yeah, that's right. It was actually incredibly delicious. I could barely believe my taste buds. I'm not one for mayo, usually, but it was tasty. I don't know how me making this pizza thing is going to go. My mom'll have to show my how to make homemade crust, and I'll have to guess on the tomato sauce. Maybe I have a recipe in here somewhere...
But, other things. I only went to the stadium for a short time gushin (yesterday). I called Ana and worked on words with her. Verbs, like vskhovrob sakartveloshi (I live in Sakartvelo) vmushaob skolashi (I work at school) vamzadeb sachmels (I prepare food) vaketeb davalebas/khatchapuri (I do homework/make cheesybread), visveneb saklshi (I rest at home), vgegmav gaketeels (I plan lessons), vkitkhulobe tsigns (I read books), vtsair tsigns (I write books), etc. It's a good time. It's actually just about the most mentally taxing thing I've ever done. Learning this language at this rate is very wearing. And I'm not actually learning as much as I'd like.
But hopefully I can still be a good masstavlebeli without knowing Georgian superwell. And hopefully I can still do whatever I'm supposed to do here without knowing Georgian as well as I'd like. Or maybe I will learn it pretty well. Who knows? We'll have to see.
Apparently people like me, though. Last night, Tatia and I went to get milk from one of the neighbors. The bebia there offered me food, so I had a sour cream (matsoni) cake and she gave me three more. She asked if I liked matsoni, and I said yes, and she gifted us a jar of matsoni! Holy crap! When we were back eating dinner saklshi, Tatia commented that everyone seemed to like me; when we played volleyball at the stadium yesterday, there was a girl there who's staying with Lauren's family (she's a cousin or something). She'd run with Lauren and I in the morning once, and she stood next to me after the American-Georgian volleyball game. She was afraid of the ball, so I was trying to tell her to conquer her fear and just put herself out there and try to hit it (easier said than done). Just then, the ball came and smacked me square in the face. So that didn't really help my case. She left the game soon after, and I wasn't too far behind her.
But I was talking about people liking me. Tatia talked to this girl, with whom I'd maybe exchanged 10 words with (2 kartulad, 8 English), and she said she liked me and I was nice and whatnot. “Why do people like you so much?” Tatia asked. “I don't really know,” I said.
Then, today, we had TEFL training in our village. As we were going into the classroom, we passed some of the staff. One of the ladies I had attempted conversation with earlier last week—and maybe got “how are you” and “what's your name” and “no I don't want to marry a Georgian,” and she greeted me with a kiss on the cheek (it's kisstomary here). She's probably the first person other than my sisters to do that. It made me feel special. And either yesterday or the day before yesterday (gushintsin [Georgian has a word for that!]) I talked with an older lady on my way to run in the morning. And she had to ask me to repeat “how are you” because she's hard of hearing and my accent's bad, but she called me a kargi gogo, I think. A good girl, that is. Aw. : )
Also, tonight I wrote in Khatia's book of letters and drawings. She asked me to write her a letter about the good and bad of her character. I've only known her erti gvira (one week), which I told her, but she asked me to write anyway. So I did. And I drew her a dzagli (dog) smelling a sunflower, because I could. By the by, dzagli in dative case is one of the most fun words ever-- “dzaggles.” Yeah. It's pretty kickin'. Or, as we say, it's the muraba (jam)!
There was some bad, though. A couple times now, about once a week, I've felt sick to my stomach. While I love Turkish coffee, Turkish toilets are a completely different story. Using Turkish toilets when you aren't feeling well is, well, the pits. Blech. Oh, but I'm sure you all want to hear that I've not too bad an aim. Pretty darn proud of that.
There are probably other things that I wanted to write about but have forgotten. I should get to bed for tonight, anyway. I'll add onto a list of things I'd like:
Frisbees (kids just love 'em. They're not common here.)
magazines (for news and for cutting pictures out of to use in lessons)
pocket pack tissues (maybe, if I can't find them in the bigger villages/Tblisi)
cinnamon maybe
nice pens, pencils, notebooks
love
Meh, that's it for now, vpikrob.
04 July 2009
Shabati
So, just got back from the American Independence Day party. It was pretty awesome and intense. However, we were lacking the one thing that makes the 4th of July American: FIREWORKS. The Party Planning Committee and I were very disappointed. But there was lots of food: hamburgers, soyburgers, "potato salad", chips, potato pie (SO American...), peaches, apricots, watermelon, soda, ice cream sandwiches, and a birthday cake for the USA. We're 233! Yaaaay! We also had a three legged race, a water-cup-bucket race, a water balloon toss, Georgian dancing (I tried to join!), random singing of Don't Stop Believing, dodgeball, frisbee, and bunnies! It was actually a lot of fun. Great success!!
So now we're in Sagarejo. I'm gonna buy some tskali, because we won't have a hub day for two weeks again. Next week we start our summer school. I'm a little.... frightened. Not too sure how this is all gonna go down. But hopefully it'll be okay. Lesson planning is weird for me. But I think I'll get used to it.
Anyway, I'm gonna go buy that tskali (water) now, because I am parched. Lots of love!
Sunday
It's gvira today, and I think there will be much adventuring today. We're going to visit the castle finally sometime today, and we're going to a 40-day-after-funeral supra at Katelyn's place, and I want to bathe today.
And yesterday was very event-filled, as well. We had shabatis skola (Saturday school), and then lunch at Katelyn's house. Mind you, she lives like 20 minutes away from the school, uphill. And Lauren was invited to a supra in the woods type deal with a volunteer from another village and his host family and the other volunteers in the village. We hiked back to our houses, explained (sort of) what we were doing to our host families, changed clothes, and hiked down to the highway to catch a marshutka. A marshutka is a gregarious, vagarious, nefarious, but mostly precarious looking mini-van that drives between villages for a small fare; it's kind of like a cross between a bus and a taxi. There're how we roll here in Georgia. So with our limited language skills, Lauren and I managed to catch a marshutka to the right village—although, he dropped us off at the edge of town and not at the school. But all we had to do was walk up the road a ways, so it was okay. We met up with a volunteer and went to meet the family.
Limited communication is so hard. You don't want to feel like you're shunning the family, but it's so easy to talk in English and so hard to ask “rogor aris qartulad?” (how do you say this in Georgian?) every few minutes to the younger person in the group who inevitably speaks English. But we got to hike to their vineyard and garden, saw their plants, had a mini-supra in the woods, sang songs, and all was good. The bebia and another guy were amazing singers. I had my camera there, and another volunteer took pictures and a couple videos with it, so hopefully I'll get it from him sometime (I lent him my card).
So, they sang, right? And, I had brought the pictures of my friends, which showed I was in choir. So, we Americans were asked to sing. We sang the Star-Spangled Banner, because they sang what sounded like Georgia, the Beautiful. It was such an awesome time. I'm very glad we went. But we have to be back on-site by 7 every night for safety and security reasons, so we had to leave early.
Instead of catching a marshutka back, a family friend who has a car offered to drive us back. We got in their car, picked up the guy's daughter who spoke English and wanted to meet the Americans, and drove back to our village while we tried to explain to the girl that we work for the US government and aren't taking Georgian jobs. We think she thought we are taking jobs that she could have... so it was a little awkward sitting with her in the back when we turned into our village and the car broke down. Now, Lauren and I could have walked, no prob, but we wanted to make sure they would be able to make it back. Someone from Better-a helped them out, and we made our way to Lauren's place. I didn't want to have to have them drive me up to my place, so I just got off with Lauren. I'm glad that happened, because Lauren and I are on the Party Planning Committee for the 4th of July Cultural Event Day to be held next shabati, so we got some good ideas down for that.
It's gonna be awesome! We're hoping for lots of traditional American foods, like hamburgers, potato salad, baked beans, chips, ice cream sandwiches, brownies, etc. The staff will try their darndest to make it happen. We're also hoping to get some wood to make boards, a saw, and washers for Washers/Corn hole with washers, or maybe some horseshoes and stakes for Horseshoes. We'll get some inter-village competitions going on, and it'll be awesome. We get to invite two people, and I invited my two host sisters (last night during the storm when the electricity got damaged and went out). They are super excited about coming.
I really want to learn Georgian so that I know my host mom and dad don't think I'm a spazz. I want to have them teach me how to cook Georgian dishes, and I want to be able to talk with them without a translator, so that they can tell me things like how to heat up water for my bath without me feeling like an absolute idiot because I don't know what the Georgian word for “turn it off” is, so I stand there looking (and feeling helpless). Actually, the other night, I had a dream about my teeth being rotted and held together with rickety dentistry, and then they just fell out in a big chunk and my mouth gushed blood everywhere. I mean, it was pouring out by the bucketful. I think it was just a reflection of how helpless I feel, that I don't even have good, strong teeth to serve my most basic of needs.
And you never realize how much trash we as Americans create. Our group discussed it at shabati skola, and then Lauren and the others and I talked about this yesterday at the mini supra in the woods. We volunteers have barely been able to locate a single trash can in our homes. I know we have three; one under the kitchen sink, one next to the commode, and one outside somewhere. But they're all very small. Most garbage is placed deliberately on the side of the road. But, really, houses don't create that much garbage, it seems. And I feel tons guiltier about my half-an-hour showers when I take my bucket bath and don't use a whole bucket.
Anyway, speaking of which, I should go start that.
01 July, 2009
samshabati
So, I'm going to go out with my host sister in about 20 minutes, but I want to get a little journaling in before I do. Yesterday was pretty intense for me. We had our mini LPIs (language proficiency interviews). How did it go, you may wonder? Well. I wasn't awful, I suppose. But I was nowhere near being able to understand her on the first go. Or second. Or after some deliberation. So I felt pretty numb until sitting in the hot classroom talking about methods to teach English vocabulary to Georgian students just fried my brain. I got home, sat at the magida, attempted to do homework, decided that a little resting would be a good idea, then as soon as my head hit the pillow, before I knew it I was leaking like a faucet. So I sneaked down to the abazana to wash my face with some cool water ('cause it's so damn HOT in the afternoons! [and 'cause I'd made myself all hot and bothered and flushed]) and my host mom saw me looking miserable. It made it worse that I couldn't really tell her what was bothering me—because that's exactly what was bothering me! Language barriers, pardon my language, suck balls. She called Tatia in to translate my half-intelligible mumblings. But she hugged me and told Tatia to get my water, and told me to not do any studying that day. So I took some time off in my room and just lay there in my bed. I was aware-ened by an SMS from Katlyn, another volunteer, who invited me to go play frisbee with the kids at the school stadium. That jump-started me to wind up the Victrola of myself back to life and got my butt out of bed.
We went to the stadium and threw some frisbee and played some volleyball. I was coerced into an Americans vs. Georgians game. Somehow we won! Lauren and Brian and Kyle totally carried the team; Katelyn and I were just kinda there. Sometimes we helped the ball stay aloft, so that was okay. Whatevs. Then I decided to go back home. I'd told Katelyn that I had felt a little off that day, so she talked to me. She told me to keep in context how long I've been here, that I am learning, that no one becomes fluent even in 2 years, and then she told me about her communicating with her host mom last year. Sometimes... you don't need to understand the words to understand the sentiment. Tsota gavige... vpikrob.
Then she gave me a Snickers and told me to take one weekly, as needed. I think that's a pretty darn good prescription to follow.
The days are just so long, though, and simultaneously so short. I feel like I get very little done, but it takes so long to do it all.
I do feel better today. Our group's dynamic is just so that it's hard not to be happy when I'm with them, even if we're learning a ridiculously different-from-English language at a ridiculously rapid pace. Good satchmeli (food) helps, too. Mmm, kveli.
I think my sister's ready to go out. I'm not too keen on it, but it might make me feel better. I'd also like to have some tutoring with Ana tonight, too, so we'll see. Blegh!
02 July, 2009
hootshabati
The days definitely have their good and their bad. Yesterday, the good points: I talked with my host mom about coffee. She's very interested in differences between America and Sakartvelo, as are pretty much all Kartvelian people. So I told her that we have instant coffee and drip coffee. I also told her about espresso and cappuccinos, but I don't want to try to explain Starbucks. I don't understand Starbucks myself. That was actually part of our lunch conversation today; Ana asked about coffee, too. We have Turkish coffee here after every meal and whenever we visit a house and whenever I ask for it at breakfast time and randomly throughout the day sometimes. Here's how you make it:
One covsi-ful (spoon) of Turkish (VERY finely ground) kava (coffee)
One covsi-ful of shakari (sugar)
One pikrulob-ful (teacup) of water
Put all ingredients in tiny saucepan, bring just to a boil, pour in pikrulob. Enjoy with chocolates, tea cakes, cookies, biscuits, whatever. rogor tsginda.
Om nom nom. My host mom's coffee is the best. It's so thick you can almost chew it. I seriously like it. And I'm getting used to the really, really salty khveli (cheese). It's expecially good with cornbread (tchadi). I don't remember if I already wrote this, but I helped my host mom make tchadi one day! Well, all I did was form the dough that she had made into lumps and stick it in the oil. Two of them, to be exact. I know, cool, right? But hopefully I'll get to help her with more food prep, because I have a presentation about Georgian food to do at the end of PST. Actually, she said I might make pizza tomorrow night. But my sister is fasting for a religious holiday. Which means she can't eat dairy products. We had Georgian style pizza tonight—with tomatoes, peppers, dill, and instead of tomato sauce, mayo. Yeah, that's right. It was actually incredibly delicious. I could barely believe my taste buds. I'm not one for mayo, usually, but it was tasty. I don't know how me making this pizza thing is going to go. My mom'll have to show my how to make homemade crust, and I'll have to guess on the tomato sauce. Maybe I have a recipe in here somewhere...
But, other things. I only went to the stadium for a short time gushin (yesterday). I called Ana and worked on words with her. Verbs, like vskhovrob sakartveloshi (I live in Sakartvelo) vmushaob skolashi (I work at school) vamzadeb sachmels (I prepare food) vaketeb davalebas/khatchapuri (I do homework/make cheesybread), visveneb saklshi (I rest at home), vgegmav gaketeels (I plan lessons), vkitkhulobe tsigns (I read books), vtsair tsigns (I write books), etc. It's a good time. It's actually just about the most mentally taxing thing I've ever done. Learning this language at this rate is very wearing. And I'm not actually learning as much as I'd like.
But hopefully I can still be a good masstavlebeli without knowing Georgian superwell. And hopefully I can still do whatever I'm supposed to do here without knowing Georgian as well as I'd like. Or maybe I will learn it pretty well. Who knows? We'll have to see.
Apparently people like me, though. Last night, Tatia and I went to get milk from one of the neighbors. The bebia there offered me food, so I had a sour cream (matsoni) cake and she gave me three more. She asked if I liked matsoni, and I said yes, and she gifted us a jar of matsoni! Holy crap! When we were back eating dinner saklshi, Tatia commented that everyone seemed to like me; when we played volleyball at the stadium yesterday, there was a girl there who's staying with Lauren's family (she's a cousin or something). She'd run with Lauren and I in the morning once, and she stood next to me after the American-Georgian volleyball game. She was afraid of the ball, so I was trying to tell her to conquer her fear and just put herself out there and try to hit it (easier said than done). Just then, the ball came and smacked me square in the face. So that didn't really help my case. She left the game soon after, and I wasn't too far behind her.
But I was talking about people liking me. Tatia talked to this girl, with whom I'd maybe exchanged 10 words with (2 kartulad, 8 English), and she said she liked me and I was nice and whatnot. “Why do people like you so much?” Tatia asked. “I don't really know,” I said.
Then, today, we had TEFL training in our village. As we were going into the classroom, we passed some of the staff. One of the ladies I had attempted conversation with earlier last week—and maybe got “how are you” and “what's your name” and “no I don't want to marry a Georgian,” and she greeted me with a kiss on the cheek (it's kisstomary here). She's probably the first person other than my sisters to do that. It made me feel special. And either yesterday or the day before yesterday (gushintsin [Georgian has a word for that!]) I talked with an older lady on my way to run in the morning. And she had to ask me to repeat “how are you” because she's hard of hearing and my accent's bad, but she called me a kargi gogo, I think. A good girl, that is. Aw. : )
Also, tonight I wrote in Khatia's book of letters and drawings. She asked me to write her a letter about the good and bad of her character. I've only known her erti gvira (one week), which I told her, but she asked me to write anyway. So I did. And I drew her a dzagli (dog) smelling a sunflower, because I could. By the by, dzagli in dative case is one of the most fun words ever-- “dzaggles.” Yeah. It's pretty kickin'. Or, as we say, it's the muraba (jam)!
There was some bad, though. A couple times now, about once a week, I've felt sick to my stomach. While I love Turkish coffee, Turkish toilets are a completely different story. Using Turkish toilets when you aren't feeling well is, well, the pits. Blech. Oh, but I'm sure you all want to hear that I've not too bad an aim. Pretty darn proud of that.
There are probably other things that I wanted to write about but have forgotten. I should get to bed for tonight, anyway. I'll add onto a list of things I'd like:
Frisbees (kids just love 'em. They're not common here.)
magazines (for news and for cutting pictures out of to use in lessons)
pocket pack tissues (maybe, if I can't find them in the bigger villages/Tblisi)
cinnamon maybe
nice pens, pencils, notebooks
love
Meh, that's it for now, vpikrob.
04 July 2009
Shabati
So, just got back from the American Independence Day party. It was pretty awesome and intense. However, we were lacking the one thing that makes the 4th of July American: FIREWORKS. The Party Planning Committee and I were very disappointed. But there was lots of food: hamburgers, soyburgers, "potato salad", chips, potato pie (SO American...), peaches, apricots, watermelon, soda, ice cream sandwiches, and a birthday cake for the USA. We're 233! Yaaaay! We also had a three legged race, a water-cup-bucket race, a water balloon toss, Georgian dancing (I tried to join!), random singing of Don't Stop Believing, dodgeball, frisbee, and bunnies! It was actually a lot of fun. Great success!!
So now we're in Sagarejo. I'm gonna buy some tskali, because we won't have a hub day for two weeks again. Next week we start our summer school. I'm a little.... frightened. Not too sure how this is all gonna go down. But hopefully it'll be okay. Lesson planning is weird for me. But I think I'll get used to it.
Anyway, I'm gonna go buy that tskali (water) now, because I am parched. Lots of love!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)