Adventure and Misadventure

For whatever reason, the post I had previously written detailing the events of this past weekend as well as the last two weeks mysteriously disappeared. So, here I am rewriting it with the hopes to salvage from my memory what I had written for better or for worse. I think that I am going to have to save these on Microsoft Word from here on out.

At some juncture, I will share with you what it is like teaching, but for right now I will refrain. It deserves its own post. However, here are some anecdotes of life in Keda from the past two weeks:

• Seeing your entire host family and numerous friends break out dancing to "Gangnum Style" in the living room? Priceless.
• My window was left open in my bedroom and an infestation of lady bugs ensued. I am not really a bug person, but I surprisingly kept my cool. My host mom came in and started thwacking a broom against the ceiling and wall, saying: "I will find you and I will kill you all." Then, a curtain rod fell down and knocked me in the shoulder. I wasn't hurt. There is still a lady bug problem despite my windows being kept closed.
• I saw a shirt being worn by one of the students at my school that had the American flag emblazoned across the chest and listed several states below it. Montana was among them. Yay! But I seriously doubt this shirt came from America (not that much clothing does...) or was written by a native English speaker. Texas was Teksas.
• I am pretty sure I saw a spatter and pool of fresh blood on the street on my way to school today...
• Wandering with camera in tow around town only to see what I thought was a "strange looking Georgian" little knowing at the time that this individual was thinking the same thing about me. It turns out we are both native English speakers living two towns apart. 
• I have thoroughly entertained my host family and Georgian friends in Keda by saying "Here kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty..." real fast.  I don't know why, but they think it is hysterical.
• I quite possibly had the most delicious pomegranate that I have ever eaten. A sweet treat from Azerbaijan. Adding to this, I had wonderful homemade grape juice. It has been awhile since having grape juice, but I am sure it does not taste the same in America. 
• The word "wine" is said to have Georgian roots...which would make sense. Georgians were some of the first to cultivate wine some eight thousand years ago.
• I have begun to spend a fair amount of time with one of my co-teachers. Her name is Natia and I think it is safe to say that we are becoming friends.
• My host mother took me to the village of Makhuntseti just down the road from Keda to meet a friend of hers. I also happened to meet her two daughters, both of whom spoke English very well, and was shown the village's two claims to fame: a waterfall and a thousand-year-old bridge.

Last weekend I stuck around Keda and did a whole lot of nothing. For two days straight, and of course it would be Saturday and Sunday, we experienced torrential rains that ended up flooding Batumi to the west and bringing snow to the mountain town of Khulo to the east. The rain did not stop my host mother from bringing me along with her to a friend's home where we drank Turkish coffee and gorged ourselves through an entire large bowl of chestnuts. I happily ate them until I discovered a live worm in one of the chestnuts I cracked open. I yelped and everyone laughed at me.  Fair enough, I suppose. One  Georgian girl who is learning English at a university and was present at this visit asked me why I was so quiet. Everyone else suddenly was very interested in this. Aside from the fact that I am naturally a quiet person, I don't speak much Georgian aside from "what time is it" and 'I speak a little Georgian." I explained this to them, in Russian, and that because of this, there is not much I could contribute in the way of conversation. Other than that visit, I watched movies, read, joyfully slept in, and made tests. It was a much needed weekend of relaxation. 

This past weekend, however, was filled with both adventure and misadventure. Hence the title of this post. I will start by saying that this "misadventure" was not bad so much as it was disappointing and all things aside, I had a very enjoyable weekend. Friday, I ventured out of Keda and arrived in Georgia's second largest city, Kutaisi, where I would be spending the night. I met up with fellow Fulbrighters Destinee and Shawn, and Boren Fellow Chase, whose place I would be staying at. After taking a fairly sketchy gondola up to an amusement park of sorts, I was introduced to the expat community living in Kutaisi and we all went for a "happy hour" dinner. Afterwards, we schlepped over to a wonderful tea bar, drank tea (who would have guessed), and smoked hookah. The tea bar had a very Persian 1940s feel that I found to be very atmospheric. After Chase, Destinee, and I returned to his host family's apartment, I met the host father Gia, who I am told lives and breathes alcohol. After meeting him, I do not doubt it. Gia insisted we try his version of Georgian champaign...vodka topped with beer. I declined. Chase told me and Destinee that after we left the following morning for our excursion, Gia came in at 8:30 in the morning and asked Chase if he could borrow his alcohol. Several hours later, when Chase had gotten up, he found Gia wasted and that his host mother had hidden all the alcohol in the house...

Kutaisi at dusk.

Saturday morning, both Destinee and I got up early to catch a marshrutka with Shawn to Borjomi. About three hours later, we arrived and met up with Fulbrighter Kenny and his expat friends, and the six of us headed to the ski resort town of Bakuriani to ride horses. Except there were no horses because it was off-season. Aside from pretty views, there was hardly a soul in sight. We ended up walking around for forty minutes before catching a marshrutka back to Borjomi.  With it being too late to do anything else, we ate dinner and parted ways, with Kenny and his friends going back to Akhaltsikhe and us returning to Kutaisi. Despite our intended activity falling flat on its face and traveling some six hours total for a failed excursion, I was still able to see a part of the country I had not yet seen and saw it in autumn glory. 

Autumn glory as seen from a marshrutka on the way to
Borjomi/Bakuriani.

A dilapidated ski lift at Bakuriani.

Borjomi

Borjomi

Much to my relief, Saturday night was spent at Chase's apartment without his host father bothering us. Destinee, Chase, and I and a fellow expat named Tom ended up playing a pretty intense game of Risk. Risk is a board game that I find to be just as complicated as monopoly. It is a war game whose goal (at least this version) was to achieve world domination. Chase absolutely decimated us by conquering every single region on the board except Afghanistan, which was held valiantly by Destinee. It is ironic that the only region not to fall would be Afghanistan, no? By three in the morning, we finished, and I hurried to bed to rest my mind which had stopped thinking straight somewhere around one o'clock. 

Sunday, the three of us most graciously slept in and then lazed about before Destinee and I had to leave. It was also election day in Georgia and Giorgi Margvelashvili from Georgian Dream won the presidency.  Here are a couple articles on the subject: 

• Link
• Link 

So there you have it, a blog post retold. Let's hope I don't have to do it yet again...but I am good, I saved it on my computer this time.  Until next time!

The Simple Life: A Weekend in a Georgian Village

It was not my decision to skip all but first period of school on Friday, it was my host mother's. As I was stepping into the classroom for second period, my host mom pulled me out and said, "You are coming with me to my parent's village." She had told me about this the night before, but by Friday morning I had forgotten. After throwing some of my things together for the weekend, we (along with my host brother, Giorgi) hopped on a marshrutka and rocketed right out of Keda.  In short order, we arrived in a town whose name I do not remember to wait for yet another marshrutka that would take us up into the mountains.

Here is the thing about Marshrutkas in very simple terms - they offer cheap travel (last week I was able to get from Batumi to Tbilisi, a distance of 228 miles, for only $12) and are not up to code. How are they not up to code? Well, there are no seat belts, the drivers speed whenever possible and sometimes even when it is not possible, and there is no limit as to how many passengers can ride in one.  If a person fits, that person gets a ride. On both rides into and out of this small mountain village, we had to have at the very least twenty passengers stuffed into the marshrutka meant to hold about half that, each with their own bag or bags of stuff. For a good portion of the hour long drive, a butt hovered about eight inches from my face. What I have noticed in the majority of the marshrutkas I have ridden in here in Georgia was that there are religious icons mounted all around the dash - perhaps it is them who help the marshrutka from careening off sketchy mountain roads.

The vehicle to the left is a marshrutka (this is pretty standard across the former USSR).

On the ride to the village of Chkhutuneti, I met a fellow American named Bethany who lived and worked there as a Teach and Learn with Georgia program volunteer. At first, we had not known of each other's presence on the marshrutka, but once the Georgians found out, they thrust me down next to her, wedging me about halfway on the seat and my other half tangled with a spare tire (there really was not enough room to accommodate me). A man I had scarcely said four words to overheard me introduce myself to Bethany and somehow found me on Facebook (I have not added him despite his request).

 After arriving in the center of Chkhutuneti village, which is really just an abandoned building and a school, Bethany took me to her host family's house while I waited for yet another marshrutka to take me further up into the mountains. Really, though, the house that I stayed at was not too far up the mountain, but with villagers carrying all types of provisions, they insist it is easier to take a marshrutka. Our driver on this final leg of the journey could not have been more than 15.

Chkhutuneti Village. It was harvest time and it was all done by hand.

Chkhutuneti's main road.

Marshrutkas are really just a nice way to get to experience Georgian culture (I remember thinking the same thing about Marshrutkas in Russia) because tourists rarely will attempt to ride them.  It is an aspect of assimilation that I as a foreigner feel an inkling of pride when I successfully navigate them - no English and no master directory indicating where and what times these marshrutkas come and go.  They come when they come and their destinations are written on signs sitting in the dashboard.

Okay. Enough about marshrutkas.

Tiko's family seems real nice, but because of language barriers, there really was not much communication between me and them (especially when Tiko went out into the fields to help with the harvest). I decided to take my camera and wander. Less than five minutes into wandering, I was invited into someone's home for coffee and treats. There was a daughter around my age who seemed really eager to meet a foreigner, but there was one small problem. She did not know English and I did not (and still don't) know much Georgian and despite trying to tell her this in the meager Georgian I do know, she spoke to me solely in Georgian.  Then, after having her show me a tiny waterfall, I was invited into another home for more coffee and more treats. I returned home, where my "host cousin" served me...wait for it...coffee and treats!

A view from Chkhutuneti, from lush mountains...

...to snow capped peaks!

Evening light

The main road is only haphazardly paved and only on certain sections.

This type of road is more standard.

The next day I was awoken too early by roosters (I disobeyed and went back to sleep) and proceeded to wake up around ten in the morning.  For the first time since leaving Tbilisi a month ago, I did not wake up cold! The weather was beautiful - warm and sunny - a perfect incentive to wander some more. This time, I was not invited into any homes, but instead had long stretches of mountain road to myself where it was just me, the wind, cow bells, and the wild river far below on the valley floor.  It was tranquil, peaceful, soothing.

One of my new friends.

A magnificent tree.

More friends!

A sunset in southwest Georgia.

I also did quite a bit of reading.

Early Sunday, we left the village and arrived back into the "metropolis" of Keda where I spent the day writing tests for my students.

Monday, a much needed day off, again had very nice weather and that meant I could finally make a trip to Batumi.  I met up with a Peace Corps Volunteer for a lunch of sorts before trekking out on my own and wandering.  Unfortunately, I did not have a lot of time to spend in the city as I arrived late and the last marshrutka back to Keda left at around 7. Currently, I do not have pictures from Batumi uploaded onto my computer, so those will have to wait for next time. At least I now have a pretty good idea about how to navigate Batumi and when my friends come in from other parts of Georgia (and the world), I can now show them around.

Churches, Toasts, and Frozen Fingers: A Weekend in Eastern Georgia

Last weekend, Friday to be exact, was the first weekend I ventured outside of Keda and headed back to the big city of Tbilisi for an excursion with friends. Friday morning, I departed Keda in the pouring rain and headed for Batumi, where I would catch a marshrutka that would take me all the way to Tbilisi. While on this drive through the mountains, I counted no less than thirty waterfalls of varying sizes cascading down the slopes - all on one side of the road.

Six hours and only one near head on collision later, I made it to Tbilisi. The marshrutka pulled into the "station" which is a really generous word for what was actually there. It was a bazaar and there were marshrutkas left and right offering to take you to any and all places within Georgia and beyond, plus taxi drivers with no concept of personal space. I hadn't even stepped out of the marshrutka when a taxi driver popped out of nowhere and stood within eight inches of my face, asking me if I needed a taxi. I ignored him, feigning the ill-advised foreigner who knew nothing, and went in search of the metro instead. It was not too hard to find, and pretty soon, I was back in Old Town crashing at fellow Fulbrighter Nathan's awesome apartment. He has great views of Tbilisi, including President Ivanishvili's ridiculous spaceship of a mansion up on the mountain above Old Town. When Fulbrighters Destinee and Shawn arrived, the four of us went out to a restaurant that served delicious food but had hardly any of the items available that were on the menu.

The next morning, we headed out to meet up with a couple of Georgian students who intern at the US Embassy and with several of their friends. We were going to the Gvtaeba Monastery in Martqopi east of Tbilisi. Before we could get there (in our own private marshrutka), however, we stopped at least five times picking up food for a feast to follow our excursion. The monastery itself was beautiful - I had not heard of it until one of my Georgian friends suggested that we go there, it is not in any guide book and does not even have a Wikipedia page.  That's okay, though. While in one of the churches, a monk told us about the power of love and I had a chance to contemplate what love meant to me. After the relative protection of the church walls, we embarked on a hike to the top of a mountain where a church tower was located.  It was much colder than I (or any of on this trip) had expected it to be, and on this hike, our fingers all just about froze.  The girls in the group ended up huddling together in a circle, our hands intertwined, trying to stay warm - I think it actually worked. The best remedy, though, was getting off of that beautiful, wind stripped summit. Some of the people in the group would disagree with me and instead say that the best remedy would be vodka...we certainly bought lots of it.

The tower at the top of the mountain, above the Martqopi Monastery.

View of the Martqopi Monastery from the tower. 

Photo-op! The Fulbrighters and our Georgian friends.

Forests around this mountain.

Then came our supra/picnic. The very first thing we did after parking the marshrutka was start a fire - well, the driver lit the fire, we just retrieved the sticks. We made "hamburgers" ("hamboorgours") which were really buns slapped around coldcut ham with ketchup and mayonnaise.  Kebabs and khachapuri were cooked over the fire. What would a Georgian feast be without toasting? The answer, it wouldn't be a Georgian feast.  That afternoon, we all took turns toasting; toasting to friendship, to American-Georgian relations, to happiness, to the cold, to the moment...to the marshrutka driver (without whom none of the day would have been possible). After we ran out of games to play and it was getting dark and we were all sufficiently frozen, we decided to leave - and leave we did, singing all the way back to Tbilisi.

Tengo preparing to make a toast.

Toasting.