November/ December 2010: Part 1 of 2

So, I majorly failed after the month of November, because I barely had time to plan my classes, let alone update my blog.  I am providing an extended two month, two part post that will let you know what happened in the months before I came home for Christmas.  In short, I did A LOT of traveling, a lot of getting stressed and freaking out, I took on a lot more class planning, and all in all, i just lived the dream to the best of my ability! 

Here, in short, is how I will describe November and December 2010:

Part 1: A trip to Chris’ Village, Merisi, My Birthday at Home and School, Going REALLY CRAZY, Trip to a Georgian Hospital and the 1^st trip to Kutaisi, and an Excursion to Akaki’s Birthplace

Part 2: The 2^nd Trip to Kutaisi, Batums with the Brits, ISTANBUL!! (Turk’ it up, mate!), and the Final Trip of 2010: Home to America via Zugdidi and Tbilisi!!

While most of my entries before the start of November have been pretty positive, November and December 2010 proved to be very up and down months for me.  I initially began this entry in Kutaisi, on Thursday morning (November 18) in the local McDonald’s with free wifi to give Kyli a chance to sleep in peace.  I am on call if she should have any problems.  I can be in her home in five minutes flat.  I came to Kutaisi Tuesday night, after I found out she vomited fourteen times in one day; I met her at the hospital as soon as my marshutka arrived in Kutaisi from Zugdidi.  I was nervous for the whole two hours it took me to get to Kutaisi to see Kyli.        

Let’s just say, I hope I never get very ill in Georgia, that is, so ill that I am required to visit one of Georgia’s hospitals.  While Kyli explained to me that the hospital was good, especially compared to another in the city that she had been to before, I was completely disgusted by the place.  The floors were dirty and when they asked her to pee in a cup, they handed her a wet cup.  I am hoping and praying that the cup was not used before and merely rinsed out to be reused by someone like Kyli…eww!  So much for disease prevention…or proper sanitation!  But before I jump the gun and describe November and December completely out of order, let’s begin this part of the blog chronologically, with my trip to as mountain village called Merisi, where my friend Chris lived for most of last semester, in the southwest region of Georgia called Adjara.

The first trip I made this month was to Batumi and then Chris’s mountain village called Merisi.  While Chris left the family I visited in Merisi shortly after I visited, I had a nice visit during the day and a half I spent with his family.  Due to a variety of circumstances in the week leading up to my trip to Merisi, I was unable to leave for Batumi, where I would catch another marshutka to Merisi, until Saturday morning.  Therefore, on Saturday, I woke up early to catch the 9 am marshutka to Batumi, to waste as little of the day as possible.  Unfortunately, the 9 am marshutka decided not to come so I ended up sitting at the station for three hours, waiting unknowingly for the 12 pm marshutka.  Apparently, when the 9 am guy decides he doesn’t feel like making his run, you as the rider are screwed until the next departure time.  Hopefully, on the days that the guy decides not to do his job you don’t actually have to be at your desired destination at a particular time…god forbid!  The funny thing is, no one said anything to anyone, so needless to say, people were quite angry when they arrived in Batumi three hours later than desired.  Of course this whole time, Chris and I are on the phone back and forth to each other, “did you leave yet,” “I don’t know what’s going on,” etc.  But because Chris is a kiwi and kiwis are the most incapable people of being neurotic, I alone was freaking out when my precious planning for the weekend became for naught.   I was really getting nervous, for if I had arrived too much later than I did, I would not have had time to eat and catch the marshutka to Merisi with Chris.  He must leave Batumi by 4:30 (or so we initially thought) to catch his ride home; otherwise, he must take the marshutka to Keda (the larger village 8 km away) and walk on foot to Merisi.  Once I left Zugdidi, the trip seemed to take forever, especially since the driver and his buddies in the front seat seemed to stop every 20 minutes to make a delivery or take a desired smoke break.  In actuality, the trip wasn’t unusually long, but like I said, I was in a bit of a time crunch and my nerves were going wild… 

I finally got to Batumi around 2:30 and met up with Chris at the really good pizza restaurant in Batumi around 3.  We went in and ordered pizzas; I got the mushroom and ham pizza and Chris got the 4 cheese.  The nice thing about this particular restaurant is that all their pizzas are good; it is impossible to choose a bad pizza.  After we ate, Chris and I decided to head to the marshutka station to get tickets so we would not miss the final ride of the day to his home, which we believed to be 4:30 pm.  His village is about an hour and a half from Batumi.  En route, thinking we had a lot of extra time, we stopped to look at a few stores in the bazaar.  Randomly, Chris checked his phone and we quickly realized that we only had 8 minutes to get to the station before our ride left.   At the same time I ran into my friend Katie who wanted to stop and talk; unfortunately, I had to say a quick hi and bye so we might still have a chance of catching a ride home. 

We got to the station with a couple minutes to spare, however, the marshutka was nowhere to be found.  We went to the ticket counter and the woman behind the desk said there was no marshutka for 4:30.  We later found out from Chris’ host mom that the drivers changed the time from 4:30 to 4 at the beginning of the week.  Apparently, changing marshutka times is a frequent occurrence and foreigners especially are expected to be mind readers and thus aware of sudden changes to local marshutka schedules.  In the end, there was no way we were going to get the marshutka to Merisi.

After a quick discussion of our limited options, Chris and I finally decided that we could to get on the marshutka to Keda and then we could hike the 8 km back to his village.  While I did not really care that we were in a bit of a pickle, he felt really bad that he was going to make me walk 8 km after I had traveled a long way to get to Batumi.  Since I have lots of faith in the generosity of Georgians to offer walkers a ride and Chris also has the same faith, especially in small villages, we figured we would walk a short ways and probably get picked up.   After we got tickets, we got on the Keda marshutka and rode back.  The exciting part of that ride was the fact that we had numbered tickets and people were initially in our seats.  Thinking it must not be a big deal, Chris and I simply moved to new seats one row back.   Not even a second later, people got on and started screaming at me and Chris.  We finally figured out that we had to kick people out of our seats and move to our original spots; otherwise some grumpy Georgian woman and her husband were going to kill us or the apocalypse might have happened.  Once we moved, everyone seemed to calm down, but man, were they grumpy and I could tell they were saying nothing good about Chris and me.

The ride itself was uneventful and within about an hour of departing Batumi, we got to Keda.  Keda is your typical small Georgian village; it has a church, a couple of stores, a large school, and a bunch of residences.  Compared to Chris’ village, this place was almost like a small city.  Chris warned me to buy anything I might want in the next 24 hours in Keda as Merisi does not have any stores.  In fact, Merisi did not seem to have much of anything besides houses, the school, and the doctor’s office, which is actually adjacent to Chris’ old home as his dad was the town doctor. 

                We began the uphill walk on the mountain road from Keda to Merisi.  It was a little unnerving as the dusk was starting to set it and we had only the small flashlights on our phones to light the windy road ahead.  Thankfully, within the first 1.5 kilometers back to Merisi, a car with three men recognized Chris as Merisi’s foreign teacher and offered us a ride.  We got in the car and the guys started asking us a whole bunch of questions in Georgian.  They asked where I was from and if Chris and I were married or dating.  I told them I was a teacher in Zugdidi and that Chris and I were just good friends from training in Kutaisi.  They started asking questions that I did not understand so our conversation ended relatively quickly.  Within 15 minutes, they dropped Chris and me off in the center of town.  From there, we walked the 30 seconds from the center of town, down an immediate hill to Chris’ old house. 

                Once we got to the house the family was all in the living room to meet us.  They had the TV on and a table set up for two to eat a quick supper.  Chris and I ate a little and then we sat with the host mom and her daughter who spoke English and we played different card games: Jokers, crazy eights, and go fish.  After about an hour of cards, the host dad called out and announced that we were about to have a supra as some friends were coming over to call at the house.  Within 30 more minutes, Chris’ mom Xatuna had thrown together a pretty good meal and the guests walked through the door.  To Chris’ and my surprise, the guests that arrived were none other than the guys that had picked us up from the side of the road.  We were immediately recognized by our guests and a lot of laughing and explanations ensued as we explained that we had all briefly met just a short time before. 

                We had a great supra; lots of good toasts were offered and a lot of wine was consumed by everyone at the table.  Things started to get crazy when Temuri, the younger of the two guys, asked if we could drink a cup of wine together while linking elbows.  Being polite, I obliged.  It was only after I drank that I found out that the tradition of drinking like that calls for both people to kiss each other on the cheeks three times.  It was easy to see Temo’s objective there.  Chris was only too helpful in photographing the whole event and laughing at me later for the whole thing. 

                Perhapsd the most insane thing that happened was when the other guy, Irakli, took us out to his car and he showed us his gun.  He immediately took it out of his trunk and shot it into the trees.  No sooner had he done that, he was waving me over.  Confused I walked towards Irakli; before I could process what was happening, I had the gun in my own hands and I could feel Irakli behind me, trying to manipulate my hands and body position so that I could shoot the gun correctly.  If I were smarter than I actually am, I would have realized that this was a horrible idea and I would have said no and walked away.  But, because I am insane, before I could decide against it, I pulled the trigger and shot my first gun.  Chris took a turn immediately after me.  We ended the night by having an extended dance party, thanks to Irakli’s car radio.  It was a night well spent; good food, lots of wine, drunken use of firearms, followed by a crazy outdoor dance party…who could want anything else out of life?

                Exhausted from the evening’s excitement, Chris and I put ourselves to bed within the hour.  We woke up relatively early the next morning to get back to Batumi so that I would have plenty of time to figure out when I could get a marshutka back to Zugdidi.  I still had work on Monday…

                Tuesday, November 11 was my birthday.  I woke up that morning to an adorable display of balloons and a birthday sign thanks to my host sister.  My host mom made me a cute breakfast and gave me birthday pajamas; my host dad cut and placed a large vase of flowers for me in the living room.  My host brother and sister each bought me a pair of wild earrings, which I still like to wear now.  My sister forced me to wear a dress to school and insisted that I wear my hair long and straight.  Once I got to school, it just got crazier.  Every child wanted to kiss and hug me and every little child at the school went around the school yard, literally picking every flower in bloom and giving it to me.  I don’t think there were any more flowers at school after my birthday.  In addition, many students brought me mandarini, which are like clementines, as well as other seasonal fruits.  Most of the kids don’t have a lot of money, so since they wanted to give me something, they gave me some of the fruit they have growing at home.  Everyone was very sweet and many people put a lot of effort into making sure I had a really special birthday.             

                As a surprise, the teachers ended the school day early and we had a supra with the teachers at school.  The teachers gave me a couple of presents at the party.  The first was a candle holder, in the shape of an elephant.  They said the elephant is a symbol of strength and if they could think of one word to describe me, they all agreed that I was a strong person.  The other gift I received was a drinking cup that had an image of the Orthodox Church, Sameba, on one side and an image of St. George fighting the dragon on the other.  After I opened the cup, all the teachers wanted me to drink from the cup and give a birthday toast as the birthday girl.  With all the Georgian I could muster in a relatively intoxicated state, I thanked everyone for the kind presents and for all who prepared food for my supra.  I also said I was happy to work with such nice teachers and that I felt very welcomed by the school as well as the entire Jumi community.  At the completion of my toast, I had to down the large cup of wine (probably three glasses worth) as the custom is to bolosha (drink it all) after giving a toast!  After I successfully finished my drink, I was given a round of applause from the teachers.        

                I went home drunk.  I was nervous about this, since I told my teacher friends that I wanted to meet them in town at 7:30 pm to celebrate my birthday.  Needless to say, my post school birthday party nap went a bit long, and even after I threw on clothes and makeup in whirlwind speed, I still managed to be almost 30 minutes later to my own party.  As soon as I walked in the door of Pirates, one of the group’s favorite restaurants in Zugdidi, my friend Rick stood up and said, “Damn, MK!  You’re already drunk!  What the hell have you been doing?”  I was then forced to retell the events of the afternoon to everyone’s amusement.  After drinking some beer, wine, and shots with my friends, we all headed home.  I do remember that I had quite the hangover on Wednesday when I had to teach, but the pain seemed well worth it.  Saqartvelo turned out to be a fine place for a 22^nd birthday, celebrated with family, friends, and coworkers.   

                While I was initially bummed that the weekend following my birthday I wouldn’t be able to go on the group trip to Borjomi, I was excited by the fact that my friends Kyli and Chris were coming to stay the weekend at my place for my family’s birthday supra.  I met Chris on Saturday morning in town, and while we waited for Kyli to arrive in a local café, who should show up but my good friend Michael Beeghley.  We invited him to sit with us and get a drink and he was more than happy to hang out for a while.  After I asked him what he was doing for the afternoon, I asked if he also wanted to come over for birthday dinner.  He said he definitely wanted to, but he had to be at a wedding at 7.  I told him that we could call a taxi for him from my house and have him back to town by 7, no problem.  My house is not much more than a 5-10 minute taxi ride from the center of town where Michael needed to be to get a ride to the wedding he was going to.

                Kyli was supposed to arrive at 2, but due to a variety of complications, Kyli did not arrive until almost 3:30 in the afternoon.  She forgot my birthday present, lost her ATM card, and barely even made it to Zugdidi at all!  I assured Kyli that I was just plain happy to see her, even though she arrived later than expected.  Once Kyli finally arrived, Chris, Michael, and I walked back to the station to get Kyli.  From the station, we took a taxi to my house.  As soon as I walked in the door with my friends, the house smelled amazing.  My host mom and sister made khatchapuri (cheese bread), many different salati, chicken, mstvadi (beef pieces cooked with onion like kebab), and of course, a big birthday cake with chocolate frosting.   Tamari, my host dad, Levani (my co-teacher who was also invited by my family), and my friends and I ate and drank for what seemed like hours.  As the time for Michael to be going was nearing, he got sad since he didn’t want to leave all the fun.  The four of us foreigners were good friends at training and we all hadn’t been in a room together like that since August and it was the middle of November.  After a brief discussion, we agreed that Levani should call Michael’s co-teacher and say that he got caught up at a supra and he couldn’t go to the wedding he was supposed to be at.  After Levani successfully made the phone call, we kept hanging out and eating and talking.  Before we knew it, the time was 11:30 pm.  Since it was getting late, my family invited Michael to stay over as well.  This was very kind of my family to allow boys to stay over because I know of many horror stories in which some of my girlfriends have not been allowed to invite male friends to come by their host families’ houses.  And here I was allowed to have two boys stay the night, so long as they slept in a room separate from Kyli and me.  When we woke up the next morning we had an amazing breakfast of leftover birthday dinner and fresh fruit with a choice of tea or coffee to drink.  After breakfast I took everyone to their marshutkas and that was the end to a crazy birthday weekend.

                Or so I thought…

                Chris ended up staying an extra night at my house since we were late getting to his marshutka.  He had to leave Batumi by 4 pm the latest and when we missed the noon marshutka, we quickly realized there was no way Chris could get home until the next day anyway.  Even if he had left on Sunday, he would have been stuck in Batumi with nowhere to go.  After explaining all of this to my host sister, she said he should stay the night and go home the next morning. 

The next morning I took Chris to school with me, and all my students asked if he was my boyfriend, since why would I simply have a boy as a friend.  I told everyone he was my friend from New Zealand.  That seemed too much for most of my students as they kept asking where in America New Zealand was.  Chris just had to laugh because I always tease him about being an Americanized Kiwi after hanging out with so many of us and even doing a semester at Penn State.  My kids were just the icing on the cake.  After teaching my first two classes, I took Chris to town and put him on a marshutka.  I went back to school after I dropped him off and finished my school day.

I started to worry a little bit when Chris did not call me when he was supposed to be home; he shouldn’t have been later than 5:30 pm.  Figuring it wasn’t worth panicking, I simply sent Chris a text saying to give me a call or a text when he got a chance just so I knew he made it back safe.  I eventually got my phone call, but it wasn’t until about 2 am…

Chris called me as he was walking from his village, Merisi, to Keda.  At 2 am on Wednesday morning, he ran away from his host family’s home with the cover of night.  I wish I could say
I was making this up; I mean I was in complete shock as I sat on the opposite end of the phone listening to this conversation.  When I asked him where he was going, he told me he was done with starving with the host family that apparently did not feed him (the supra at his host family’s home a week or so before was like the largest amount of food he saw the whole time he was there!)  He said he was done giving his family 100 lari a month to starve and be isolated from civilization.  I agreed with Chris on both points; all I know is I wouldn’t have put up with his situation anywhere near as long as he did.  Since I was exhausted and I also wanted him to concentrate on not falling off the mountain road, I told him to call me back when he got a hotel in Batumi, which he did later that morning.  While I thought Chris was completely insane, I was glad that he eventually was able to arrange a new host family and make his last month in Georgia a blast, before he went back to New Zealand to join the Navy.

After the excitement of Chris’ nighttime escape, who would expect that my week could get crazier?  Sure enough, later that morning after Chris called me, my friend Kyli called me and said she had been vomiting; she thought she had food poisoning.  I told her to keep drinking fluids and to stay home from school.  If she threw up for too much longer, I told her to get herself to a hospital, since you can kill yourself via dehydration if you vomit for too long without replenishing your body’s fluids. 

With all of this on my mind, school that day totally stressed me out.  I was easily irritable, but I did not completely lose my cool until I had the tenth grade.  This is funny looking back, because this class is usually well behaved and I like most of the students in this class a lot.  Yet, because I was crazy and on edge, my student Beqa had to push my buttons by randomly throwing mandarini peels across the room while I was explaining an example from the textbook.  As a punishment, I initially kicked him out of my class.  Yet after class, when I went to get him to clean up his mess, he ran away.  I chased him to the gate of the school and caught him.  I grabbed his arm and dragged him back up the stairs to the classroom.  But as soon as I arrived, I saw the one girl in the class, Anna, cleaning up the peels.  At that I was completely irrational.  I don’t know if she was asked to clean up the mess or she was just trying to be a friend, but I was angry.  While I probably overreacted I saw this small incident as an examination of gender roles in the society.  It almost seems like the men can be messy and live like pigs since the women can be counted on to clean up after them.  In a small way, that happened in my classroom.  In America, I would never find a girl on her hands and knees cleaning up after a boy.  But I did in Georgia and it just killed me to watch her.  I come from the world of “if you make a mess, you clean it up.”  I hope I can impress that lesson upon some of the ruder boys at school; such discipline may help them become better men in the future.  Well here is to hoping anyway… 

At the same time that I am completely unnerved by Beqa, Kyli calls me back and says she is still vomiting.  I tell her, that’s it, I’m coming to Kutaisi!  Eitehr you get to a hospital and I can meet you there or I will take you kicking and screaming myself when I get to Kutaisi if you don’t go.  Kyli agrees and she hangs up the phone, probably to go vomit again.  Since my mind is in complete overload, I start crying.  Everyone thinks I am upset about Beqa’s disruptive behavior, but in reality I am juggling three different problems at the same time.  After a quick explanation to my host sister, I leave school saying I have an emergency and I will hopefully be back in a couple of days.  Levani tries to chase me saying Beqa is not worth getting upset about and I should go back to school.  I snap at him and tell him to go away as I don’t have the energy to try and explain my life’s problems to someone else, even though he probably has the best English at the school.  As soon as I get home, I eat a quick lunch and throw some clothes in a bag.  I get to the marshutka station ASAP and take the next marshutka to Kutaisi.  On the marshutka I get a call from Tamari and she is very kind and tells me to make sure Kyli is “very, very good” before I come home.  She remembered Kyli from my birthday and said she was a kai gogo “a good girl” and it was very bad that she was sick and lived alone.  She said it was very Georgian to worry about my friends and that the teachers completely understood my urgency to get to Kutaisi once they gave Tamari a chance to explain my situation and my concern for Kyli’s health.  Apparently, the teachers were ignoring Tamari who had useful information about my problems.   The teachers were too interested in the rumors that were flying about, concerning what actually happened during my lesson with the 10^th grade.  In the end, that had almost nothing to do with why I was upset.  That was simply the straw that broke the camel’s back.  Worrying about Chris and Kyli succeeded at raising my stress levels to the danger zone!   

Once I got to Kutaisi, I ran the five blocks from the marshutka station to Kyli’s apartment.  When no one answered at her apartment, I knocked at the landlord’s hoping that maybe Nino knew where she was.  After five minutes of knocking, Nino’s son Shio answered the door.  He said he heard that I was maybe coming and filled me in on important details.  He said Kyli almost passed out by her toilet, and apparently only didn’t because Nino came on one of her regular visits to “check” on Kyli in her apartment.  While these visits were a little crazy and a bit invasive in my opinion, I’m glad she went over there and made Kyli go to the hospital.  Shio gave me directions to give the taxi driver and even called one of his taxi driver friends and gave him quick directions.  The guy came in literally two minutes to take me over to the hospital.  As soon as I walked in the hospital, I saw Kyli in the hallway, walking from her room to use the bathroom.  This is the point I refer to at the beginning of this entry, the moment when Kyli is given a wet cup for her urine test.  I still don’t want to know why that cup was wet.  If I was not so tired I would have asked more questions in that hospital.  It took everything out of me to stay awake and make sure Kyli was okay.  I’m glad I was there with her as she was stuck in a room with a bunch of kind, but strange Georgians.  If I were in her position, I would want one of my close friends with me too, instead of being alone with many strangers, no matter how kind they might be or how honest their intentions are concerning my well-being.  Bone tired and exhausted, I was glad I was there, able to be whatever support I could. 

We probably stayed at the hospital until a little after midnight.  In that period, Kyli was on a range of drugs and IVs to replenish the fluid she lost while she was sick all day.  In that period, I talked to the insurance company that deals with our medical emergencies on Kyli’s behalf as she was on too many drugs to have a conversation.  I took the call because the insurance person needed to speak with an English speaker who understood how the information on the card worked.  The information on our cards is a bit confusing if you are not familiar with the card.  Probably the most entertaining part of the hospital stay was Kyli’s drug induced comments.  To respect Kyli’s privacy I will not post any of her comments, but needless to say, she had me laughing hysterically for a good hour.   

Before we got to leave, the doctor wrote a looooong list of drugs that Kyli needed and easily the most insane regimen of drugs to take during the days following her sickness.  He also outlined a very detailed diet plan.  I wrote down everything in a notebook and promised to follow his instructions accordingly.  Nino may have gotten the same instructions, but we went about following these instructions in different ways…

  When we finally got home, I made Kyli a cup of weak tea and told her to sip on that before she went to bed.  After a few sips of tea and some water, she passed out in her bed.  I made myself a quick cup of tea before I plopped on the couch in a sitting position and fell asleep sitting up.  The best part which I would not truly process until the morning was that Kyli’s water had gone out again and we would be living with bottled water for the next two days that I’d be staying there.  The faucet would not work and the toilet would not flush.  You can always count on Kutaisi to be a pain in the butt when it comes to the availability of water.  It will work fine, and randomly turn off for days or even up to a week at a time.  I can’t even imagine the outcry in America if such a thing were to happen in any major city back home…

I woke up with a pain in my neck the next morning, but got up and did some basic shopping.  I was supposed to make Kyli soft foods that did not have dairy in them.  I picked up some bread, eggs, potatoes, and beans to start, along with some tea and water.  For breakfast, I made Kyli an egg and gave her a slice of bread.  She ate some of the egg and the bread and was able to keep that down.  Yay!  Yet, because Kyli doing ok was too good to be true for long, Nino came over with a bowl of potato mush that looked incredibly unappetizing.  She insisted on staying over until Kyli ate some.  Kyli ate a few bites and was initially ok, but within an hour, unbeknownst to Nino, she began to feel sick again.  We later realized that the potato mush had butter in it as well as salt and Kyli’s food was not supposed to have diary or salt.  It’s no wonder then that the mush didn’t do well in Kyli’s stomach.  We decided after Nino’s food made Kyli feel poorly, that Kyli should stick to American medication and diet to recover.  Within a couple of days, Kyli was doing a lot better and I went back home.  I was in Kutaisi for two days; I came home late Thursday night and was back in school Friday.  The funny thing was, because we had a long weekend starting as of Friday, my friend Michael and I were planning to go to Kutaisi on Sunday and stay through Monday night as a bunch of group 3 kids from our initial orientation group were meeting up Sunday night.  I came home Thursday night and sure enough I was back in Kutaisi on Sunday night.  

I did not end up going with Michael on the marshutka to Kutaisi because I had committed to going on an excursion with my school on Saturday.  Excursions are basically field trips that the first twenty or so students who pay their money get to go on.  This excursion was to the birthplace of the Georgian writer Akaki in the Imereti region.  It actually worked out well that I was going to Kutaisi following the excursion as the marshutka dropped me off on the way, literally in front of Kyli’s apartment.  She lives just off the main road that marshutkas take through the city. 

We left Zugdidi around 7:30 am and it took just over three hours to get to Akaki’s birthplace.  It was a rough ride since some of my students got carsick and needed to stop to vomit on the way.  We eventually made it, though we had to stop and ask for directions a bunch, since we weren’t sure where to go once we got into the town itself.  The ride was fine for me since I sat up front with Levani.

Once we arrived, we had to wait for a bit to go in the house since only a limited number of people can be in the house at a time.  While we waited, I took pictures with a bunch of my students and even raced some of the boys up a steep hill since they told me I wouldn’t make it or I would fall down.  I did not beat everyone, but I did not fall or come last in the race either.  I felt I finished respectably.  When it was finally out turn to go in, I made sure that I stood near students who spoke English so they could translate for me if I did not understand the Georgian tour guide.  Luckily, I was standing right next to Arsena, one of my best English speakers…thank god!  He gave me small translations even though Georgian women were giving him the stare down.  I am certain they thought he was trying to be disruptive instead of translate for me.  Even one of the Jumi teachers went to yell at him, but I went right over and attempted to defend him the best I could.  Between both Arsena’s and my explanations, the teacher apologized for getting angry and thanked Arsena for being kind enough to translate for me. 

One of the funnier moments during the tour was when we would stop and illegally take pictures at different points in the house.  Perhaps the most inappropriate picture of the day is one of Arsena lying in Akaki’s bed that is roped off.  While it was very funny, he could have gotten in a lot of trouble.  After we finished touring the house, we took a few more pictures and got back on the marshutka.  Our second stop was Akaki’s childhood home, a 1 room log cabin with minimal amenities.  After a quick look in the house and the surrounding property we stopped for a quick lunch of xatchapuri, bread, chicken, and cheese.  While this would seem pretty normal, what would not happen on an American field trip would be a teacher like Levani offering the boys of the group shots of vodka to drink... 

After everyone assured me that this was okay, sure enough, I was doing a shot with Levani and five of my 10^th-12^th grade boys.  And apparently, since we all drank together, we all had to kiss each other on the cheeks three times.  Needless to say, I kissed many boys in the following minutes.  Before we left to go home, we stopped at a museum that had some of Akaki’s childhood things and his early manuscripts.  It was a cool final stop to a very interesting field trip and overall, I am glad that I went on a Georgian school field trip.   

The trip home was very crazy.  I offered to sit in the back with the students to give a couple of the older teachers a chance to escape the crazy students.  While I hoped to be a calming influence like the other teachers, my presence in the back with the kids created nothing short of a complete ruckus.  Kids were screaming lyrics to American songs and we had poke wars.  I was a participant in both activities, as I’m sure everyone already predicted.  After about an hour and a half of crazy backseat behavior, it was time for me to get off and visit Kyli and my buddies who were also staying in her Kutaisi apartment for the long weekend.

PART TWO TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT POST!  This one is already ridiculously long!

Back to Georgia: Freezing to Death in 2011

So to overcome the effects of GMT (Georgia Maybe Time), the pace I have adopted to update friends and family about my life, I have forced myself to wake up this morning and at least publish a a small bit that explains my life here since I've been back.  As I have a multi-month window about which to write, I will start with observations and life in recent weeks and then I will go back to November and the insanity that ensued before I went home to the States for Christmas and New Year’s.  It will take a couple of posts to catch up, but I promise to get there…someday!    

I am currently on the couch at my friend Michael’s apartment.  Michael is one of my six friends who left a host family for the privacy, peace, and freedom of a Georgian apartment.  Georgian apartments are very inexpensive, but they have their limitations.  After Michael was asked to pay his rent in advance, all of $350 US to own the place for the next five months, it took him over a week to get the key from the landlord, who was supposedly “cleaning.”  She wanted the money in adavnce to visit her kids in Russia.  W'shile this would raise red flags at home, that is a completely normal request in Zugdidi, according to Michael's student's mom, who helped him find his place.  the landlord first attempt at cleaning was moving a couple of items from one room to another and evicting some squatters who had apparently been living in the place with no electric, water, or gas for five-ish years, without paying rent.  When Michael first moved in, the place was a mess and the woman still had many of her clothes and photographs spread over the house.  Now I understand that Georgian apartments have no storage space and Georgians have many small, inexpensive things, with nowhere to store them.  But you can't leave you stuff evrywhere when someone is trying to move into a place they just began renting.  Incredibly displeased, Michael immediately called the woman back and asked her to move the clothes and the family photos, which were weird to walk in on during move-in day, I’m sure.  In response to Michael’s complaint, the woman put everything undesirable in bags and boxes and put those in the apartment’s second bedroom.  I am certain that the room probably has mites or some sort of allergen as I was fine before I went into that room to help clean/ organize it and now I feel awful . 

The concept of renting a place and changing over property is almost night and day in Georgia versus the US.  When you move into an apartment at homein the US, the place is usually a little dusty, but it's empty and ready for you to add your own stuff.  As the renter, you feel like the owner of the place.  While in Georgia, you technically own the place, the Georgians seem to have no qualms about leaving all their own stuff in the apartment since they own the place.  In some ways, it is like Michael is a paying guest in someone else’s home as he cannot dispose of all the junk in the one extra bedroom where the entire apartment’s junk seems stored within bags, boxes, and a strangely configured closet.  We both joked about torching the room; it got a little scary when it no longer sounded like joking after awhile...
   In addition, it does not seem necessary for the landlord to basically clean an apartment before you move in.  I filled up a bucket with dust and rubble from just a basic sweep of the small walk-in washroom alone.  Michael spent days disinfecting sheets with bleach, scrubbing floors, and doing small, basic cleaning tasks to make his place his home. 

While it seems amazing that he has a place for $350 US for 5 months plus maybe another 20-50 lari for utilities (another $10-$25 US a month) he has limited water.  Water is only turned on in his place from 7-9 am and 7-10 pm; in a 24 hour day, he has running water for 5 hours.  While this seems appalling to the western mind, as we expect to turn on the faucet and for water to come out, I found that the situation is livable, although undesirable.  Limited water was initially a shock for me in Kyli’s apartment in Kutaisi, which I will write about later, however, it didn’t particularly shock me when it came round to working with limited water to clean Michael's apartment.  The situation calls for some basic adjustments to work within the water constraints. 

In the apartment, Michael has large, trash-can sized bins of water in his kitchen, bathroom, and washroom.  The water in the kitchen is boiled in an electric kettle for drinking and then is poured into glass pitchers to cool.  To wash dishes, a bucket of hot water and soap is made to scrub the dishes, and the dishes are rinsed in a bucket of cool water and then placed in a drying rack.  It is a bit of a pain, but the process of using buckets probably saves water in the end.   It is truly an experience taking water out of a trash bin to cook, to wash clothes (which Michael does in his tub with powder detergent as he does not have a washing machine), and to wash dishes in buckets.  Yet, the weirdest aspect of no running water is how to go about flushing the toilet.  Even when Michael has water, his toilet does not really flush; water constantly runs at a small trickle throughout the toilet when he is lucky to have water.  The toilet runs for five hours every day as it does not have a “flusher.”  So, when you are done going to the bathroom, whether there is water on or not, you take the small bucket, fill it with water from the big bucket, and you pour it into the toilet bowl.  The force of enough water going down clears anything unpleasant from the toilet bowl.  To combat yucky smells, Michael often pours bleach into the toilet.  It seems to work well enough.
Even with all the drama and constraints, the price of peace and privacy seems well worth it; I enjoy going over Michael’s, even though his place is a good 45 minutes to 1 hour walk from my host family’s house, on the opposite end of town.

  It is nice to have another place away from my host family’s home to get some peace and privacy.  Michael is probably my best friend here in Georgia and it is great to have someone to call when classes go poorly, when students don’t do their homework, or just when I need to plain vent to someone who understands what it is like to live here for half a year.  Georgians are some of the friendliest and hospitable people, but the friendliness and hospitality can be overwhelming, especially when they get mad at you for cleaning or contributing to the house.  I can also kill my family when they try to give me dairy products when I am not feeling well.  I also feel bad if I come home late, as my host dad sits up waiting for me to come home like my real mom or dad did for me in high school.  While I am on my own over here, by living in a host family, I have exchanged familiar family rules for foreign ones.   I never feel limited by said rules, like I cannot do anything that I want to do, but now that my friends have apartments and houses, I don’t feel like I always have to go home, especially if I have been drinking and don’t feel like taking a taxi alone back to my house.

   I am going to go out on a limb and say that the lack of central heating in this country has made me think more about how to stay warm than I ever thought I would in my life.  I never thought so much about staying warm until it has literally become a daily struggle while living in this country.  It is not uncommon to want to wear the same clothes for three or four days as the extra layers keep you warm.  And since it takes a long time to hand wash and line dry my warm clothes, I often need to think twice about whether I can sacrifice not having a certain garment.  I’d rather be a little more dirty these days than cold.

Sure people have space heaters and stoves, but these luxuries often heat only one room of the house.  As a result I am left with two options: either I spend waaaayy too much time with my host family watching Russian TV, which can make me batty, or I can escape to my bedroom, the coldest room in my house, and read in peace.  But I am covered with every blanket I have found in my room so I don’t freeze.    

I never thought I would live somewhere where I could see my breath in my bedroom when I woke up to begin the day.  Since my return to the Republic of Georgia, I can count on seeing my breath in the morning without fail.  It is a daily reminder of how much I miss the luxury known as central heating.  I knew I would be screwed in the winter; my bedroom is rather cool during the hot months.  It was a nice reprieve from the heat in August and September.   I REALLY loved that bedroom during the summer.  So it would follow suit that my hot weather reprieve would prove my downfall during the frosty winter months.  A room that is naturally cool only gets colder without heating.  Just my luck, I recently learned that my room is actually the coldest in the house.  The only time I am colder at home is when I step out of the shower and am still a little wet.  That feeling of “bitter, icy cold” is borderline torture, which is why my every-other-day showering policy is slowly becoming a once or twice a week phenomenon, or at least a shower when it’s only sort-of freezing instead of very, very, freezing.  It is beyond disgusting, I know, to shower so infrequently, but the process of heating up water and then leaving the comforts of a hot shower for a freezing bedroom is unbearable more than a couple times a week.    

Besides the freezing temperatures to which I still must adjust, my life has largely fallen into place since my return.  I have a routine again where I go to school at 8:30, I teach until about 2 or 3 pm, I eat, go for a run or go to town, and go to bed by midnight to start the process anew.  The funny thing I’ve noticed about village life is its steadiness and its infrequent change.  I left for about a month and very little seemed altered in that period.   Life seems to go on here in the same way that is has gone on for probably hundreds of years.  Technology is slowly adapted to the community’s way of life, but so many people here are so poor that they simply continue to live without the things they do not absolutely need to survive.

I just realized the other day that my school only got computers two years ago and that my host sister Tamari had not even seen a computer until she was 19, 4 years ago!  This new knowledge makes so much sense as I have been shocked at her lack of computer knowledge as the school’s computer teacher.  This is not to say that she has not worked her ass off to learn the things she does know, but learning computers is like learning a language.  If you start at a young age, computer knowledge almost becomes innate, like breathing or your native language.  Yet, if you have to learn everything from Word to Excel, how to make folders and save files, learning a computer for Tamari can be as daunting as learning Georgian is for me.  The point is technology is so new here and while people are doing their best to become acquainted with new technology and apply it to their daily lives, most items are still too prohibitively expensive for people.  People simply tend to live without the items they don’t seem to immediately need.

 While they do not have a lot materially, their wealth lays in traditions, love of family and friends, respect for elders, and the ability to depend on the community for support, in times of joy and sadness, in need and plenty.  One thing I love about Georgia is the utter willingness of the people to help one another.  This is not to say that Americans or other people throughout the world are not also generous, but I love how Georgians will almost do anything for their families, neighbors, relations, and even strangers.  I often think back to how quickly my host family took to me when I first arrived in Georgia.  They completely opened their home and lives to a mere stranger.  Our relationship required a lot of bravery, patience, and trust on both our parts.  I had to be willing to accept the differences of this family and realize they may live in a way completely different from the experiences of my own family.  Meanwhile, my family had to be ready for the issues that may rise from hosting an independent and often stubborn, 22 year old American girl.  Over the last four months, I think we have learned that we may have come from different cultural backgrounds, but most families in essentials, where love is present, are happy and nurturing environments.  Sure, they cook different food, they yell at me for wearing only socks in the house, and think I’m crazy for running or going out late at night, but my family and I all seem to respect and love each other.  I realize now that I have an American as well as a Georgian life and family. 

While I could never be happy if I stayed in Georgia permanently, it will not be easy leaving these kids and my kind family here either.  

I have added some pictures to my Facebook.

I have created three different albums so far of pictures on my facebook account.  Click or copy/paste the public links to your web browser to view the photos.  Enjoy!

I will add shots of Batumi/ Merisi Village at a later date, along with more Zugdidi shots from Halloween and school.

-MK

#1 My first trip to Tbilisi
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2072583&id=1226190399&l=fae2daff23

#2 Weekends in Kutaisi and Svaneti
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2072586&id=1226190399&l=40a4048595


#3 Life in Zugdidi and Jumi Village 
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2072590&id=1226190399&l=f173f3d631

October 2010: School, A trip to Kutaisi, A Wedding Supra, Svaneti, a Halloween Party and more Jumi

                This is easily the worst I have been so far with keeping up this blog.  I am over a month behind…oops!   While I have sworn to become a better correspondent in past entries, I have succeeded in becoming less and less dependable.  I will have to get better; otherwise these entries will get waaayy too long and I am sure to lose the interest of my followers to date.  So I will warn you now, this entry is a long one.  You may want to bring a drink and a snack if you want to read this one all the way through without stopping.  But it will be entertaining, I promise.  My life always is. 

                Since my last entry, school has not changed too much.  School seems to be the major constant in my life to date.  In general, the kids in my classes with Levani seem to be speaking better, while the kids in Tsitzana’s classes seem to have a better knowledge of grammar but cannot seem to remember when to use each tense appropriately.  I am hoping that in the next few weeks that I receive the semester plans for each teacher so that I can plan a nice variety of lessons to meet the needs of my students.   My next project, after asserting the need for more lesson time dedicated to the practice of speaking English, is to encourage more lesson planning in advance so there is a game plan and list of goals for up to 2 weeks to a month in advance.  I know I am talking crazy now, but I always dare to dream J 

                One of the more embarrassing moments of the month was when one of my 10^th graders during a game we were playing in class using “Who likes,” “Who has,” or “Who wants” asked aloud, “Who wants to kiss teacher?”  I definitely reacted poorly because I was not expecting anyone in a million years to ask that question.  I will be better prepared for such comments in the future, but I will never forget how off-guard that question caught me or how many affirmative responses to that question that I heard, from my class of twelve boys, ranging in age from fifteen to sixteen.  Nothing has made me feel more like Mrs. Robinson in my whole life. 

                My first weekend excursion this month was to Kutaisi to visit many of the teachers from my orientation group.  I was placed in Zugdidi with many of the teachers from the previous orientation group, group 2.  While have since become close friends with many members of this group, I was largely dependent upon my acquaintances in Kutaisi for a social life.  Feeling lots of excitement at finally seeing everyone again, I got to the marshutka on Friday afternoon after school.  This particular ride was exciting for a variety of reasons: #1 I could not find the ticket office, #2 The driver just told me to get on and sit next to him in the front seat, #3 He spent the whole ride trying to talk to me in broken English since he had not used English since he had graduated from school 7 years before.

                I stayed in Kutaisi with my friend Kyli.  She has an apartment very close to the marshutka station on top of the local McDonalds so it was very convenient to arrive in Kutaisi and make my way to her place.  Since both of us were interested in a cuisine that was not the Georgian satchmeli (food) we eat every day, I decided I would improvise and cook an Italian dish called “Bucatini all’amatriciana” to the best of my abilities.  While it certainly wasn’t authentic Italian, I still thought it turned out pretty good.  I would also like to comment that I managed to cook a fancy dinner on a hot plate, as Kyli at that point did not even have a fridge, let alone a stove.  Her landlord is awesome though and since Kyli moved into her new place, she has received many important amenities which make an already good apartment a great one.  I hope to visit her place again soon, because we had a great weekend together. 

                On Saturday, I met up with Andrea and Alan, Drew, Jonathan, Shannon, Dan, and Amanda.  We all got food and drinks together.  While I did not go out to the museum with the large group, we met up later and had our own mini supra (dinner party) at the “Bridge Bar”.  It was a lot of fun catching up with everyone and swapping teacher stories.  We stayed out until approximately 11 pm and Alan, being the gentleman, took all the girls home in the taxi.  I ended up going to McDonalds after the supra to use the internet; McDonalds has free Wi-Fi.  I spent way too much time at McDonalds that weekend because I was so happy to be able to call my parents on Skype.  I have since gotten an internet connection that I can use at home and school so my pathetic desperation had dissipated.

                Easily the funniest part of the weekend was when Jonathan spent the night on Saturday.  While this does not seem like a big deal, let me provide you a few facts which make this particular phenomenon scandalous.  First, it is not common for a woman to live alone.  Kyli’s situation is good since she has her landlord to keep an eye on her and make sure she is safe.  On the same note, the protection her landlord gives makes it more difficult for Kyli to have platonic male guests stay in her apartment.  Premarital sex and mixed sleeping arrangements are strongly frowned upon, so Kyli’s apartment may seem like a brothel if she has too many male friends staying the weekend at her place.   Unfortunately on Sunday morning, Kyli’s landlord came over pretty early to make necessary additions and repairs to the apartment.  In a rush of deciding what to do, since we did not know how to explain Jonathan to Kyli’s landlord, we threw him in Kyli’s bed and covered him with a comforter.  I cleaned up where he slept and pretended to be really groggy to distract any attention from Kyli’s room and the lump in her bed (aka Jonathan hiding).  After the landlord left, Jonathan got changed and made the mad dash from the apartment to McDonalds.  We figured if anyone got curious, we would say Jonathan and I were together as neither of us would be particularly tarnished by that report as neither of us lives in Kutaisi.  Kyli and I met Jonathan at the McDonalds within the hour and brought him all of his stuff.  While this makes for a hysterical story after the fact, Kyli and I were freaked out initially about the consequences of having a male guest in her apartment.  This part of Georgian life is something I do not really like, but it is a fact of life that Kyli and I must accept while we live here. 

                I came back from Kutaisi early on Sunday as there was a wedding supra in honor of my neighbors who recently got married.  My current Facebook profile photo was taken at my neighbor’s home, where the supra was held.  When I came back home, I was sent to the neighbors to help set up the food and the place settings.   Tamriko and I spent the afternoon helping the women get everything ready.  In true Georgian fashion, the 5 pm event began at closer to 7:30 pm, but let me tell you, it was a blast!  The tables were full of really good food such as badrigiani (eggplant), khortsi (meat), satsivi, nahmsuare (desserts), khatchapuri (cheese bread), mtsvadi (pork kebab), and salati (cucumber and tomato salad).  In terms of drinks, there were fruit flavored sodas, lots of ghvino (wine), and chacha (homemade vodka).  After some wine, I found myself dancing with some of the groom’s friends, which was really funny.  While there were two guys who could dance, I feel like some of the other guys were a bit drunk and a little unstable on their feet, which made dancing a bit of a challenge.  All in all, I had a great time at the supra.  I was especially excited to meet a girl named Nino who went to school in Zugdidi.  She was excited to meet me because she was able to practice her English with me during dinner.  I loved being able to practice some Georgian with her.  Sadly, my Georgian still isn’t very good, but I can yell at pupils for most things if I need to, while at school.  Back to the supra, I was out until probably 11:30/ midnight, and of course, I had to teach the next day, because it was Monday, which wasn’t ideal.  Oh well, that is Georgia for you J

                So since my last entry, I have completely lost my mind.  After another Wednesday afternoon rugby game, where the field was completely muddy and wet from a rainstorm, I agreed to go for a second swim in the river.  I was soaking wet and gross anyway, so I asked myself why not?  After I dove in the river, I was shocked to learn that my pupils had the audacity to suggest that I was too chicken to jump from the bridge that overlooks the part of the river where people swim.  Since I almost never say “no” to a dare, I accepted the challenge.  In my spandex and sports bra, I climbed over the barrier and got ready to jump from the bridge that is about 20 feet from the water.  Yes, I did act the part of a chicken a couple times as I got nervous at the last second, however, I did manage to make the jump.  If you ask any of my students that were there, chances are they have footage of this major event in Jumi history.  I think I can safely say that I am the first American foreigner to jump from that bridge into the river.  I certainly hope I am not the last.  While I was scared and I most definitely screamed the whole way down, I had a blast and cannot wait until springtime when it is warm enough to swim and jump from the bridge again.    

                School was not that exciting the week following the supra and my trip to Kutaisi because I was really excited for my trip the following weekend to Svaneti.  Svaneti is a region to the north of Zugdidi, populated by Georgian people known as Svans.  The Svans are notorious for being crazy and sometimes volatile, but I found them to be rather welcoming during my trip to Svaneti.  Since we were not able to go to Svaneti until Friday because of transportation issues when we had a holiday on Thursday, the people going on the trip met at the Zugdidi resource center at 9 am.  By 10:30, all 17 of us had gathered and we boarded our marshutka. 

                Georgian roads are notorious for being bad, but the road to Svaneti is among the worst in the country.  Most of the road hugs the mountain, the road is not paved, and the driver spends most of his time trying to avoid giant holes in the ground or dangerous rocks that may impede passage.   Because of the roads, a 180 km trip took close to 7 hours each way.  Within the first 2 hours of the drive we got a flat tire.  At least the place we stopped at had a lovely view of a dam so I got some really cool pictures.  Some of the boys also took the opportunity to have a rock throwing contest, which was entertaining to watch.   After the tire was replaced, we got back in the marshutka.  We had to stop again after about 2-3 more hours because there were rocks in the road.  All of the boys had to get out and help move the large rocks off the road (likely due to a recent rockslide) so that we could continue to drive.  After the rock slide, the trip was pretty uneventful, as long as you don’t count the 3,000,000 times we almost got stuck in the mud or I felt that we were going to drive off the mountain. 

                I was never so happy to arrive somewhere.  While it was raining in Mestia when we first arrived, I was so happy that I wasn’t dead that I could have been ecstatic no matter where I was.  Once we checked into the hotel Friday night, we got a ton of food and wine to celebrate our safe arrival.  After hours of merriment, we all went to bed, excitedly awaiting our hike the next day to the Chalati Glacier. 

                Because it was raining hard in the morning on Saturday, we delayed our hike initially.  Instead of starting around 9 am, we went at 11:30/ noon.   Those who wanted to hike the 7-8 km hike got in the marshutka and we set off to the starting point.  Perhaps the most exciting parts of the hike occurred en route to the glacier when it was still raining and there were puddles the size of small rivers.  We jumped rocks, crossed small rivers by walking on tree trunks, and some people were even carried across by “Didi Dato.”  We even crossed a rope bridge to get to the bottom of the mountain that we had to scale part of the way up to get to the glacier.  While we all were soaked during our seven hour hike, the glacier was totally worth it.  It was beautiful to see water roaring from the ice in the mountain, down towards where we began our hike.  It was really a chance to see nature undisturbed and it was awesome.  After taking a bunch of pictures, we made the walk back down the mountain.  While that walk was not as exciting as the walk up to the glacier, we all had such a hikers’ high from seeing something so beautiful.  I will apologize now for not adding pictures of the glacier and the hike until Christmas; I need a faster internet connection for my arsenal of photographs to date.  Our dinner that night, following the hike, was as fun as the previous night.  Courtni taught everyone a new drinking game, which we all had a blast playing, once everyone got with the program and figured out how to play.  Since I had horrible luck and we were drinking wine that made most vinegar look more appetizing, I was stuck having to “bolomde” or drink all of my wine.  Needless to say, I was a bit tipsy that night from yucky wine, but from what everyone has told me, I was a lot of fun to be around.   I suppose some things never change from college to present day. 

                The trip back from Svaneti was as exciting as the trip to Svaneti.  Since the roads were so bad from the storms from the weekend, a truck got stuck in the mud, blocking about 60% of the road.  A large truck was brought up the mountain to build a new portion of road so vehicles could travel to and from Svaneti.  While I thought some people might die due to sheer stupidity, they all managed to survive,well  just barely anyway.  We had to move a tree as well on the way back to Zugdidi, but a tree almost seems anticlimactic after all the other nonsense of the weekend.  I suppose it’s no wonder with all the drama it took to get to Svaneti that the 180km trip takes close to 7 hours.  But since the area is so beautiful, I am sure I will return come spring to hike and enjoy the natural beauty of Mestia and possibly Ushguli. 

                After I got back from Svaneti, I decided it was time that I rejoined society and got an internet connection.  If you ever come to Georgia and decide to get a Magti modem, make sure you go with a native Georgian who knows everyone in town and can cut the line for you.  It makes the process so much easier.  What took other English teachers without Shota two and a half hours to acquire took me thirty minutes with Shota’s help.  Not only did he help me buy the modem, but he even installed the modem on my computer with all the appropriate drivers.  In short, my entry here is a thank you to Shota for being a sweet man and I am eternally grateful for his help in securing me once more to the world of information, news, and the lives of my family and friends.

                The day after I got internet, two of my tenth grade boys and one eleventh grade boy who all speak pretty good English invited me into town for a snack at a restaurant after school.  While I had told them no previously, as the thought of socializing with students like that seemed weird, my host family told me it was completely acceptable to accept such an invitation, and a continued refusal might even come across as offensive.  When I explained this to my teacher friends after the fact, a few called me Mrs. Robinson and jokingly said I went on a hot date with my students.  Alika, Arsena, Gio and I ended up going to a restaurant and splitting pizza, khatchapuri, and a beer each.  Again weird, but there is no apparent drinking age in Zugdidi so such behavior is not inappropriate.  At the restaurant, I showed the boys pictures of different places I have been in the States and different pictures of me and my friends in college.  Arsena, in particular, is very good at English and wants to study abroad so he found the whole conversation and the pictures absolutely fascinating. 

                I have decided to try and help four of my students in particular to get their English better so they can study in America or another English speaking country.  They are doing pretty well without many resources thus far, so if I can design a halfway decent curriculum that stresses improving their writing and speaking skills, I bet I can give these kids the best chance possible to qualify for a scholarship, or in the very least, at least the chance to leave Georgia for a bit and see another part of the world.  Traveling has done wonders for my own development and general world view, so I will do whatever I can to encourage that kind of growth and development for anyone brave enough to give it a shot, especially these Georgian kids who have barely left their own villages.  Most of them have not even traveled around much of Georgia; I have traveled more than 95% of my school in the last 2 months than most of my students and fellow teachers.  I know for many money is tight and traveling a luxury most cannot afford, but I hope that I can help some of these kids see and experience the vast diversity of the planet we all share.    

                To pat myself on the back, I would like to say that I successfully cooked Italian food for Georgians!  I made my Italian pasta “Bucatini all’amatriciana” that I made earlier with Kyli in Kutaisi and everyone loved it.  My co-teacher’s family and his neighbors want me to cook again soon!  I am so pumped that I successfully impressed this tough Georgian crowd with a different cuisine.  Most Georgians will only eat Georgian food because they think nothing else could ever measure up.  While I have had a lot of good Georgian food, there is a lot of good food to eat in the world so I will not limit myself to just one part of the world’s cuisine.  I want to do my part and ensure that my friends and neighbors in Georgia try new foods that I love from home.

The last thing I will write about in this entry is the Halloween party that was held in Zugdidi on Saturday, October 30.  The teachers in Zugdidi rented a cinema for the night for $400 lari and had a movie night, which also included a massive dance party.  Costumes were required and it was a BYOB event so people could bring what they wanted to eat and drink for the night.  Getting to the theatre was very exciting; a torrential downpour completely drenched Zugdidi on Saturday.   I wore my rain boots to the theatre and my boots, which rise up to mid-calf, were mere centimeters away from filling up with water.  I have not seen such bad flooding in such a short amount of time in my life.  Shannon was visiting me for the party so I had to carry her to the taxi that we took to the theatre because she did not have appropriate footwear.  When we finally arrived in Zugdidi, we bought food and drinks and went to the theatre.  I had one stroke of bad luck when my bag broke and my vodka shattered and the beer I brought for the power hour exploded, but both were easily replaceable after I put my things down and cleaned up my mess.  Darn Georgian grocery bags that are good for nothing when carrying heavy items.  Once I was settled in the cinema for the evening, I put on my Storm from X-men costume and made myself a drink and the party began.  We all danced , watched movies, and played various drinking games.  I think for a night that everyone felt like they were home with friends.  While most of us joke and say we were pretty drunk and do not remember most of the night, we all agree that we had a blast together.  We were dressed up like idiots and we slept in a movie theater without heat.

                Shannon and I came home at 7 am on Sunday morning and woke up around noon-ish.  We wanted to go for a run, but we were too exhausted from Halloween fun to do so.  I took Shannon to her marshutka around 2:30/ 3 ish and met Michael for a Halloween snack at City Bar, which has really good coffee and ice cream drinks that seem to cure hangovers along with pizza and French fries.  Before I went home for the night, I had Levani walk with me to the bridge that leads into Jumi, since the area is pretty spooky at night and I wanted to do something scary for Halloween.  Since it was pretty cold here on Halloween, we had a shot of chacha (homemade vodka) to keep us warm for the walk.  I had a blast joking with Levani that I was looking for ghosts (mochveneba); he thought I was completely crazy, but just went with it.  After a walk, I went home and crawled into bed completely exhausted. 

                Yesterday I had school as it was Monday.  While it was pretty rough after all the festivities of the last few days, I survived.  Of course, however, since it was the director’s birthday, we had a large party after school with tons of food and wine.  Yes, I found myself drinking yet again.  I joke that playing rugby for four years was training for the amount of drinking I do in Georgia, since I have shown the Georgians I can drink pretty well.  Oops again!  The highlight of the director’s birthday party was the impromptu Lady Gaga dance party I started.  I was playing some tunes on my laptop during the party and all the sudden “Let’s Dance” by Gaga came on.  The teachers all got up and started dancing, so I was like “Ok, I can do this. “  We proceeded to dance to every Gaga and Shakira song on my laptop.  This was easily one of the funniest things I have seen since I have been in Georgia.  I am starting to realize that cultural exchange truly happens at the weirdest times here.   It cannot be planned; it must happen naturally and I must be willing to encourage it at any moment.         

                Today is same old, same old.  I am on break trying to write about the highlights of the last month since I have been very bad about keeping up with this blog.  I will try to be better in the future, but no promises.  I miss everyone at home and hope everyone is well and good.  That’s all for now folks J