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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not included: my eyes, dry.

<3

Spring is in the air... kwelgan I davtwalierav

I am dead tired, and there are miles to go after I sleep. So I'm just gonna tell you a couple of highlights that I remember from the couple past days I haven't written.

Homemade hamburgers with awesome barbecue sauce. Like, the best barbecue sauce known to man. This may be biased due to lack of comparison bbq here, but I doubt it. This stuff was the nectar of the gods, man.

Dancing at the Club and watching people do stuff you shouldn't be able to see them doing from the window.

Working all week on the SPA grant with my cp, staying at her house either late or overnight, freaking out in the teacher's lounge over fear that it wouldn't get done, and then watching cp and computer teacher friends pull together and come to Tbilisi so we could price check and get shit done.

It's ice cream season. Also strawberry season.

CP's son, who's a self-proclaimed future advertisement-maker and/or pencil sketch artist (he's a prolific sketcher), bawled when I left their house one day, and rarely lets me leave without giving me a big, juicy kiss on the cheek.

Made lettuce salad (YUM!) today at my cp's house with homegrown lettuce given by one of the teachers. And had more lettuce promised me for Monday by another teacher.


The biggest news of the hour is that this week, two days ago, I had three seventh grade girls join me for my morning anti-notrunning training (good thing I'm also equally training for the stress-eating team. It has more than balanced things out). Yesterday, I had five, including host sis. Last night I slept at cp's house because I spent a lot of time planning and helping her fix her computer, then it was raining, and this morning she had her heart set on feeding me strawberries and oatmeal, so I didn't run. But the girls ran without me and asked where I was. What's going on?!

And.. there's dancing bazari bags on TV. I think it's time to call it a night. Headed to Tbilisi to practice for med sessions for new Trainee trainings, then Patara to the old host fam for some good ol' awkward moments, then Borjomi to hang out at a meet, greet, eat, drink with the newbs, then hightail it back home for a day or two, then back out for Trainee mentoring and delivering said medical sessions on hub day. AH!!!!

Let's start the day in the best of ways... this year edition.

In celebration of my director's birthday and my coworker planting blackberries on farmville, I'll give you 5 examples of wonderful ways to start your day.  One of these was today.

ნაყინი (nakini) nightmares.

The deputy director, a sweet woman, told me I might want to pull my skirt up (fixed with a pin because lack of dryer stretched it out), and that my underwear's showing.  I was wearing one of the Christmas presents from my parents, stuffed in the toe of my boots when they sent them over.  They were bright pink.

warm weather's revenge

The very first time it's warm enough to eat in the kitchen and not in the living/petchi room, I arrived late to school because the clock in the kitchen is 5 minutes slow.  My 12th graders were loitering outside, so I apologized and asked if they were coming to class.  Later I realized I had them 3rd period and not 1st.  I should have been apologizing to the 3rd graders.  Whatev.

just another day in Georgia

I arrived late to school and had forgotten my phone and meds.  I searched for my counterpart, but she arrived later than I because she had a cold and low blood pressure and looked like she was about to collapse.  She'd tried to call me twice.  That same day, I had one student in 12th grade.  I made him listen to "A Whole New World" and write in the pronouns.

have to wear gloves next time I weed...

One fine morning I woke up.  I was very grateful that I woke up.  The night before my pinky was red and swollen and my wrist hurt.  I was so afraid I wouldn't wake up that I wrote the medical duty phone number on a scrap of paper, labeled it in Georgian, and left it next to my bed.  I looked at my arm and saw a red line running from my pinky, twisting down my arm to my elbow.  Hooray!

should've left the bag in the magic cupboard
One winter morning, I wanted museli.  I also wanted to keep the bag fresh.  I ran up to my room quickly to fetch some tape, and I slipped on the freshly-mopped landing and cracked my head open on the stairs.  When the ambulance driver came, he did paperwork over tea and honey while my head was leaking blood all over the pillow.