I know the masses are screaming for more fun, witty tales of my sxovreba in Georgia, and I'm not one to make people mad at me. Not even teachers who will never lesson plan with me and so I dropped classes with her. Still trying to be her friend. Call it peacemaker, call it people pleasing, I just like everyone to be happy, especially when they're around me.
But though I'm suffering from a slight touch of the insomnia tonight, you just get the teaser. I'm gonna lie in bed and pretend the world doesn't exist right now.
I probably won't have time to write tomorrow. We're prepping food for the funeral Thursday, that of Shorena's grandma. That woman always asked about me and blessed me the traditional Georgian "grow up! be happy!" in such a sincere manner that if the occasional "get married!" was thrown in there, too, I didn't mind so much. Here's to you.
A few other headlines:
Hopefully we'll have some Halloween activities underway.
Ambivalent about computer courses, wave 2, with indefinite start date. Hm.
A committee of 3 including me are coordinating the planning/buying/making of the Thanksgiving dinner at the all-volunteer conference in 2 weeks.
Lab remonti hopefully underway soon with program pointers from tech saavy folk. Also, there's this: Free educational and/or computer games for kids! Win!!!
Magda wrote a test for the 5th graders on the computer and printed it out on our NEW PRINTER. Totally all by herself because I was gone. She rocks my world.
Wednesday, October 27
Sunday, September 19
Back from CR! And Kobuleti! And my birthday! And depression! Back to school!!
From over a month ago:
Okay, okay, so I haven't posted for a month now. But I defend my slacking in that my main reader was hanging out with me for part of that time.
Of course, I've been back from the family vacation for a while, and there's really no good excuse to why I haven't posted except that I've been really bummed and also freaking out about this project lately. But I'll get to that. First news of the trip of awesome!
Mom and Dad arrived EARLY Friday morning, most of the time waiting which I spent being a sorry excuse for a city guide for some neighboring country PCVs who were staying at the Nika. Then at the airport, pacing back and forth and trying to get a spot among the Georgians waiting for their loved ones to arrive. We were quickly whisked away by Jenora's taxi driver neighbor, caught a few hours rest, then walked (pretty aimlessly; like I said, I'm not much of a guide) around the city until my host dad/brother picked us up later that evening, much to my parents' delight. If you're still unfamiliar with Georgian driving, ask my dad to tell you all about it, which hopefully proves to be not just a traumatic reminder but a good therapy session for him, or see this wonderfully written post describing the Georgian Rules of the Road.
Anyway, traveling around Georgia actually went pretty smoothly. Nothing too unexpected or out of the norm here. We did go to the graveyard, which was pretty cool for Mom the Genealogy Nut. She's been taking me to graveyards since I was a little squirt, showing me how to lay the butcher paper on the gravestones just so, peel the wrapper off the crayon, and rub the crayon sideways until the name and dates magically appeared on the butcher paper in cerulean or mulberry.
But the real genealogy was later, in the Czech Republic. I'll get to that.
In Georgia, however, don't think family wasn't present. Yes, I was exhausted from translating, but I found I didn't need to every second; my mom and Shorena both have that sixth sense or feminine intuition, call it what you will, that sometimes the situation was thus:
Mom: I bet this thing does this because of this.
Shorena, to me, in Georgian: Did she just say this thing does this because of this?
Me: HALLELUJAH.
And, now, to the present. Yes, the visit was wonderful. Yes, translating was exhausting. Yes, eating 24/7 was exhausting. Yes, Ana in Baghdati is such an amazing hostess and friend I can't begin to thank her enough. Surprisingly no, no accidents were had due to Georgian driving.
You know, in retrospect the amount of eating we did was partially due to the fact that we visited places of food production (beehives, vineyard, watermelon garden...) and partially due to the fact that the only thing mutually comprehensible that both families could do with their mouths beyond making a gamarjobat and hello come out of them was to shove something edible in them. Why not?
Needless to say, the amazing adventure in the villages of CR and Prague restored my belief in the existence of flush toilets. Also seeing the site of where my great-grandma was born was pretty cool. Not only that, the mayor of the village (who drives a four-wheeler to work) gave us a book about the history of the village (which also has its own WEBSITE.), which revealed the village paid for some of my relatives to go to America... which is really weird.
Also weird was the bone church at Kutná Hora. But you've already seen pictures on Stalkernet.
When we went to the other (west) side of the CR, after a long pilgrimage back and forth from village to village on a rainy day when we were just about to give up, we ended up in the house of a lady who may or may not be related to us. She fed us awesome Chodsky kolache, a specialty pastry of the region, some turkish kava, and brought out dress after dress, nay, COMPLETE outfit sets of traditional Czech kroj, of which I got the honor of trying on one or two. About which she commented, "If this were to be yours, I'd have to take it in a lot, or you'd have to eat into it." People!!
Of Prague there's not much to tell but pretending to be a tour guide for my parents, getting lost on trams, finding delicious Czech pastries and an amazing teahouse, the cute bartender at the place across from the hotel, the fun little ghost tour, and, best of all, wandering off to gorgeous and tourist-free Vyšehrad.
Next time I go, more time will be spent at that magical castle where no one goes, dinner at At the Ropemaker's Wife bar, more delicious pastries, more talking with the locals, taking a train or two into the countryside, and chillin' in the country where I, the anti-beer-ist, can enjoy a pint.
For a while I was super depressed after the amazing vacation. Going back from Candyland to the Twilight Zone was no walk in the park. Heck, they don't exist in the Newvillage. BUT! What the Newvillage does have to offer now are computer trainings for teachers!
These computer trainings have been a pain, but they're getting something done, and I feel like living again, most of the time. School has started, grape harvest has been missed multiple times, and I'm teaching with Magda and Ana (not Lia or Nino... long story.). But you've already read a novel. Go have a rest (daisvene!), and I'll write later. Besides, gotta go lesson plan.
Okay, okay, so I haven't posted for a month now. But I defend my slacking in that my main reader was hanging out with me for part of that time.
Of course, I've been back from the family vacation for a while, and there's really no good excuse to why I haven't posted except that I've been really bummed and also freaking out about this project lately. But I'll get to that. First news of the trip of awesome!
Mom and Dad arrived EARLY Friday morning, most of the time waiting which I spent being a sorry excuse for a city guide for some neighboring country PCVs who were staying at the Nika. Then at the airport, pacing back and forth and trying to get a spot among the Georgians waiting for their loved ones to arrive. We were quickly whisked away by Jenora's taxi driver neighbor, caught a few hours rest, then walked (pretty aimlessly; like I said, I'm not much of a guide) around the city until my host dad/brother picked us up later that evening, much to my parents' delight. If you're still unfamiliar with Georgian driving, ask my dad to tell you all about it, which hopefully proves to be not just a traumatic reminder but a good therapy session for him, or see this wonderfully written post describing the Georgian Rules of the Road.
Anyway, traveling around Georgia actually went pretty smoothly. Nothing too unexpected or out of the norm here. We did go to the graveyard, which was pretty cool for Mom the Genealogy Nut. She's been taking me to graveyards since I was a little squirt, showing me how to lay the butcher paper on the gravestones just so, peel the wrapper off the crayon, and rub the crayon sideways until the name and dates magically appeared on the butcher paper in cerulean or mulberry.
But the real genealogy was later, in the Czech Republic. I'll get to that.
In Georgia, however, don't think family wasn't present. Yes, I was exhausted from translating, but I found I didn't need to every second; my mom and Shorena both have that sixth sense or feminine intuition, call it what you will, that sometimes the situation was thus:
Mom: I bet this thing does this because of this.
Shorena, to me, in Georgian: Did she just say this thing does this because of this?
Me: HALLELUJAH.
And, now, to the present. Yes, the visit was wonderful. Yes, translating was exhausting. Yes, eating 24/7 was exhausting. Yes, Ana in Baghdati is such an amazing hostess and friend I can't begin to thank her enough. Surprisingly no, no accidents were had due to Georgian driving.
You know, in retrospect the amount of eating we did was partially due to the fact that we visited places of food production (beehives, vineyard, watermelon garden...) and partially due to the fact that the only thing mutually comprehensible that both families could do with their mouths beyond making a gamarjobat and hello come out of them was to shove something edible in them. Why not?
Needless to say, the amazing adventure in the villages of CR and Prague restored my belief in the existence of flush toilets. Also seeing the site of where my great-grandma was born was pretty cool. Not only that, the mayor of the village (who drives a four-wheeler to work) gave us a book about the history of the village (which also has its own WEBSITE.), which revealed the village paid for some of my relatives to go to America... which is really weird.
Also weird was the bone church at Kutná Hora. But you've already seen pictures on Stalkernet.
When we went to the other (west) side of the CR, after a long pilgrimage back and forth from village to village on a rainy day when we were just about to give up, we ended up in the house of a lady who may or may not be related to us. She fed us awesome Chodsky kolache, a specialty pastry of the region, some turkish kava, and brought out dress after dress, nay, COMPLETE outfit sets of traditional Czech kroj, of which I got the honor of trying on one or two. About which she commented, "If this were to be yours, I'd have to take it in a lot, or you'd have to eat into it." People!!
Of Prague there's not much to tell but pretending to be a tour guide for my parents, getting lost on trams, finding delicious Czech pastries and an amazing teahouse, the cute bartender at the place across from the hotel, the fun little ghost tour, and, best of all, wandering off to gorgeous and tourist-free Vyšehrad.
Next time I go, more time will be spent at that magical castle where no one goes, dinner at At the Ropemaker's Wife bar, more delicious pastries, more talking with the locals, taking a train or two into the countryside, and chillin' in the country where I, the anti-beer-ist, can enjoy a pint.
For a while I was super depressed after the amazing vacation. Going back from Candyland to the Twilight Zone was no walk in the park. Heck, they don't exist in the Newvillage. BUT! What the Newvillage does have to offer now are computer trainings for teachers!
These computer trainings have been a pain, but they're getting something done, and I feel like living again, most of the time. School has started, grape harvest has been missed multiple times, and I'm teaching with Magda and Ana (not Lia or Nino... long story.). But you've already read a novel. Go have a rest (daisvene!), and I'll write later. Besides, gotta go lesson plan.
Wednesday, July 7
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!
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!
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