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!

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

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!

Because everyone else is doing it.

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace!

Summer rains, you can never predict 'em.

Dear employer,

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you for your consideration.

Paula

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.

To do without.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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."