Showing posts with label pst. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pst. Show all posts

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:
  • 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, June 26

Week one.

21 June, 2009
Sunday

I have now been at my host family's house for one night. I'll tell you all about them as I get to know them better. But here are a few first impressions.

They seem very well off. Although there's no running water (I'm not sure if it's broken or if they just don't have it hooked up or what; there is a tap and showerhead in the abazana (bathing room)... yeah, although there's no running water, guess what's in a room right next to the abazana and not 30 meters away from the house? That's right, a TualeTi. I have a commode! Awesome sauce! Too bad I won't be here in the winter; that would be wonderful!

Other than the facilities, the rest of the house seems very nice (dzhalian kargia [it's very good]). I'm not too sure about taking pictures quite yet; maybe when my qartveli is better, I will feel more comfortable asking. I want you to see this house, though-- it's HUGE! My room's almost as big as my room back in Iowa! And the whole place just looks kinda ritzy; they have nice heirlooms and whatnot for decoration. The house is very aged-looking and the doors don't shut easily, but it is super nice. My room doesn't have a lock, like Peace Corps promised. But I'm not worried about the security issue with the family. I trust them. And they reassured me that there was always someone at home, and when we all take a trip, the gate will be locked.

It's a good thing the house is big ) One thing, though-- there are two young girls (ori gogobuia [?]) who speak English. The older one, who either just finished or will be in ninth grade, Tatia (TAH-tee-ah), is VERY adept at speaking English. She's probably as good or better than some of our LCFs (Language-Cross Cultural Facilitators). Seriously, she's amazing. She wants to become an English teacher. I hope she thinks about working with Peace Corps. I'll fosho drop the idea to her later. The younger girl, Khatia (phlegm-tee-ah), can definitely hold her own as well. She'll probably become just as good. They're both very patient and helpful, repeating things for me a zillion times that I've already heard twelve times earlier in the same day.

Last night Tatia told me that my accent was lovely. I laughed and then wished her goodnight in the regional way (which she told me probably four times and I repeated back to her, but can't remember it for the life of me).

Clare, you might take a liking to Khatia. She LOVES Sponji (aka SpongeBob). She apparently has a shirt and a hair thing and other Sponji memorabilia, although I've only seen the shirt. I woke up shvid saatze (at seven) to go for a run in the village with Tatia, but then she didn't want to go. She warned me that she likes to go to bed late and get up late and might not want to go. She said something about there being police out so that I should just run on the balcony. So Khatia ran with me on the balcony.

Khatia tired herself out quickly (I think she just liked the novelty of running with me and asking me my favorite Amerikeli Xili/khili [American fruit (no English equivalent for that first phoneme)]), so I ran for a while longer alone, all the while counting from one (erti) to ten (arti) so that I get better at it. During orientation, when we were staying at the hotel, the first night after the language lesson I was feeling particularly freaked out. Shawn, one of the volunteers, saw me silently stewing and studying and drilled me on the numbers until I could finally say them. That was really cool of him. He also randomly called me today and we compared living situations. He can speak Russian with his host dad, but I've got Tatia da Khatia, and I also have an in-house TualeTi, wheras he does not. Bad luck! And, Mary, I already told you—he was the Catholic guy who's skeptical of the anti-demon medallion you gave me. And said you should get me a female saint one instead of Benedict or Boniface (I don't remember which it was).

Speaking of religion, Georgians are very interested in what religion you are. It was one of the first questions Tatia asked me yesterday. I embarassedly had to say “me ar religiosi var.” but “chemi ojaki qristiani aris” (I am not religious but my family is Christian). I could tell she thought I was a weirdo as she pointed out the family biblia and explained to me that in Georgia, children are the same religion as their parents.

After eating dinner Georgian style on the balcony-- well, I guess you probably want to hear about that. The food. sachmeli. The place setting is just like we're used to; tepshi, changali, dana, da khelsakhotsi) plate, fork, knife, napkin (small and always folded into a triangle). The Georgians must not really like mixing their food that much. You help yourself from each serving plate, and when your plate is dirty, they offer you a new one. The waiters at the hotel did this, and Tatia did that to me at sauzme (sow's-may [breakfast]) this morning. (which I remember by “saucing me” which, in my mind, can kind of connect to eating and/or food. Hey, whatever works, right?) And the food is GOOD. The Puri (bread) is DELISH-- (gemruelia [the food's worth a gem... works for me!]). KhatchaPuri (like a quesadilla on a pita) is om nom nom, as is lobiani, a bean-pita sandwich. Salata of pomidori da kitri (tomatoes and cucumbers with parsley[?]) is good, too. There's often jonjoli, pickled capers, which is served with pickles and what looks like the peppers that come in pizza boxes. And there's the pâté like stuff that's made of spinach or new beans aka green beans or... plum? eggplant? beet? Something purple, I forget. I think it's beets. Whatever it was, I liked it. That's sometimes got walnuts in it and such. The soco (mushrooms) are fan-freaking-tabulous. There's also a few meat dishes—cold chicken, some beef, pork with onions, and sausage-y things. I haven't really tried them because I've come out of the vegetarianeli closet finally. It's great now because it's during fasting time (I think?) when Christian Georgians don't eat much if any meat. The kh'veli (cheese) at the hotel near Tbilisi was a bit too salty for my taste, but the cheese that my host family (chemi masp'indzeli ojakhi) has is very good.

Speaking of cheese, I grated cheese and made spag'eti today! masp'indzeli dedachemi (my host mom) is about the most patient and gracious woman in the world. I can't really even understand most simple things like “help” “day” “now” and so forth, and even though I say them over and over again, I still forget things like “me mvars” (I love...) “me mqavs, ra gqvia” (I have, you have) and so on. I'm still struggling to remember the pronouns! And it takes me ten minutes before I can say “kargia” (good), “ar vitsi” (I don't know), and “ver gavige (gah-vee-gay—I didn't understand)” And I've said those things half a squintillion times already! But my host mom was patient even though I understand her as if she were talking to a brick wall. Since the translators were out with their friends, we passed around my lexiconi until she figured out I wanted to help her with lunchi, and then she trusted me in her kitchen, sort of! It was awesome. I'm so thankful that the Georgians I've met thus far are nothing but kind. (My host mom and dad, who I ate with, even said the spag'eti was gemruelia!) So it's awkward, but good.

I'm so overwhelmed with this language thing, though. I want to learn it so badly, but I don't even know how to go about doing it anymore, and I'm jetlagged and eating weird food and not able to drink tap water for three months because I might get hepatitis and I haven't been able to get good sleep the past three nights even with the aid of Benadryl (which is thankfully provided in our med kits). I hope my body starts to adjust and my brain starts to adjust. The language is the key to everything! If I don't learn it, I won't be able to communicate well without the aid of a translator (evidenced by lunchi today) and I will be in more danger, as I won't be able to understand the kids in the marshutkas (public mini-vans that run between villages).


22 June 2009
Monday

My suspicions about my family's wealth continues to grow. Today, after the first school session (four hours of language with two fifteen minute breaks), we had lunch (lunchi) at our house. Chemi megobreri were very impressed. The size of the house, the lamazia (lovely) hand-painted walls and ceilings, and the t'ualet'i all impressed them very much. The t'ualet'i impressed them most of all; after the TEFL meeting Sagaregoshi (in Sagarejo), we came back to our village and were going to walk around, but first everyone wanted to come back to my house to use the toilet.

23 June 2009
Tuesday

Yeah... last night was interesting. But the rest of yesterday Pirueli (first). (And when is my life NOT interesting?)

So, they all used the toilet here because it's better than what they have, apparently. And then we walked down past the crossroad to where Lauren's street comes to the main road, then I walked back. Oh, and Kyle walked Kaitlin home. But they got lost, and Kyle's host family called Tengo (the program director... basically the go-to guy when stuff goes wrong. Other than our resident LCF, Ana, of course. She's awesome. More on her later.)
So that went down. There was another minor crisis over the weekend. One of the guys from the neighboring village was trying to go to sleep, but the dogs were barking loudly, so he couldn't. He brought some Rite-Aid gel ear plugs, so he used them. Problem solved, right? Wrong. Not only did he not hear his alarm the next morning, but when he tried to pull out the plugs, the right one broke in half. He kept trying to get more pieces out; he only succeeded in getting small chunks and pushing the remaining chunk (though getting smaller and smaller) farther into his ear. So he called the Med staff and was sent to Tblisi. The first doctor refused to do anything about it; apparently she didn't want to touch him because he was American. So he sat in Tblisi while the head PC med lady tried to arrange things and talked about calling Washington. Tom, the mokhalise (volunteer) was nearly in tears because he thought he was going to get ET (early termination). He stayed overnight at a hotel in Tblisi, and the next day they head PC med lady took him to a Europe-wide famous specialist. The guy laughed at him. He couldn't believe the other doctor wouldn't have done such a simple operation. So the doc took some kind of ear-keeping-open mechanism, stuck it on the volunteer, and got the earplug out in five minutes. How crazy is that? The volunteer is now doing well and back, good as new.

Today skolishi (in school) we worked on survival phrases (sad aris t'ualet'i? sad aris chemi ojakhi?) Although I think if we don't know where the toilet and our rooms are by now, we'd be in big trouble. But there are some useful phrases I still need to study-- ukatscravahrgh (sorry) da tavi mt'kiva, da mutseli mt'kivai (and my head hurts, and my stomach hurts). But that's for tonight.

Yesterday I basically locked myself in my room and studied for a very long time. I tried so hard to work on reading, and I practiced saying my name is and your profession is and your last name is and so forth. I still get confused with the four k's-- soft k, hard k, soft rolled k, hard rolled k. That last one is the hardest of all. There's no English equivalent (or Spanish equivalent, for that matter.) But we have an advantage over the Georgians, too. The name “Faith” has three sounds they can't say, I guess. So cool. Lauren was feeling particularly mischievous today in school, so during our activity where we had to make up a lady's name and tell it to someone else, guess what she picked? Heh heh.

Today really was awesome. We were crazy and joking around nonstop. During lunch at Kyle's place (where we were served a wonderful feast of khinkali (meat in pastry pouches), lamb, khatchapuri, puri, kitri da pomidori, an awesome dessert that I have no idea what it was but was cut in diamonds and arranged on the plate like a big star, and like a zillion other things. They really went all out for us. But what stole the show was the Kompote. It's a type of juice made from boiled fruit (sometimes strawberries, sometimes apples, grapes, whatever). It kind of tasted like Kool-Aid. So Lauren declared that its flavor was Purplesaurus Rex. Ana, cveni LCF (our LCF) had no idea what Kool-Aid is. If you can imagine how awesome it is explaining the useless flavor names and the extravagantly silly color changing powder (of a flavor that has nothing to do with the color of the prepared liquid), the mystery flavors that you never really know what they are, and the Kool-Aid man himself to someone who's never heard of it, then you may have a slight idea of how much fun we had at lunch.

And we're all bonding really well. In our village name (there are two villages, one with the name “small” and the other “big”) instead of Patara (small [but bigger than the “big” village population-wise.. explain that one to me.]), we're gonna take to calling ourselves Better-a. Yeah, we're pretty much the coolest. We have the most gracious people, the coolest houses, the awesomest kids in all of Sakartvelo. Oh yeah.

So, quickly about Ana and my weird night last night and running this morning, and then I'm gonna go get nakh' ini chemi datan (ice cream with my sister) maghazishi (at the store). Oh yeah!

Ana, our LCF, is no doubt the best. She has really pretty black, bushy hair that last week she let free but this week has tamed, which is quite sad. We told her so today. She's got a BA in English and an MA in Linguistics and is from the west side of Sakartvelo. And she's incredibly nice and helpful, as much as any Kartveli I've met (except maybe chemi ojakh'i [my fam]). And she's only 22.

Last night, after locking myself in my room all day and studying, I texted one of the guys, and he called me back and we chatted for a while about significant others and Georgian wine. It was rather interesting.

And this morning I ran Laurendan da mati dzadan (with Lauren and her brother). He's maybe five or so and barely spoke two words to me. I think he said gamarjobot (hello) but that's about it. Hopefully we'll do this every morning. Or maybe yoga some mornings, like I did yesterday.

Allright, to the nakh'ini! Woot woot! Until next time! Bollomde!


26 June, 2009
Friday

Well, I didn't get nakh'ini that day, but I got it yesterday afternoon at school break with Lauren. It was delicious, naturally.

And last night I tried a little bit of homemade whiskey/coffee liqueur that my host mom made. It was delish, too! Also, my bebia made a type of caramel sauce with grape juice and flour. I don't remember what it was called, but you eat it with walnuts. I liked it a lot. I tried to help crack the walnuts, but the first one I did spilled all over the floor, so we laughed at my incompetence and then I just helped separate the shells from the nuts. I think my host mom thinks I'm rather incompetent.... it's just the language barrier, I swear!

And I tried the cherries, alubali. AND I washed my laundry yesterday. It went rather well. Hooray!

Um, we had hub day today in Sagarejo. I'm hopefully going to get to post today, but the net is SLOOOOOOOOW! So maybe not.

Okay, I think I will have time.

I'm a bit distracted by the slow internet and can't think of anything else to include right now, so I'll just leave you with an “until next time!”

Hope you're all doing well. I have my good moments and bad moments, but I think it's going to be kargi.
Love!



Oh... things I may want/need:
cocoa
anti-demon medal
notebooks? The ones here are kinda weird.
Carefree, Stayfree, and OB. Eventually.
Crest Pro-health, eventually. My toothpaste decided to explode on the plane to Philly.

If I think of anything else, I'll letcha know. Thanks! <3