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!

danit etxoba...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Top 10 Ways to Occupy Oneself During Medical Leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then again, maybe not.

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


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

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

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

Will the computer lab even last that long?



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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

Ra xdeba?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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