Heart and Soul

Tbilisi had become blisteringly hot. Days upon days of 95+ degree sunny weather had settled into the city and there was no signs that it would be letting up. The casual clothes I had packed were no match for the heat and I decided that the only way to beat it, was to head north into the mountains.

Last year, when I lived in Georgia, I had lived in the southwestern part of the country, far from the rugged, craggy giants for which the country and region are famous. I lived in my own mountains while there, to be sure - they were dense, lush, and weathered - but they were not the fabled ones of the north. I have to be honest here and say that I don't think I have met a mountain that I didn't love and have respect for - the mountains are such a huge part of my life and who I have become. Ten years ago, I was a lost soul and as I began to explore where I wanted to go for college, I looked toward the mountains. I always felt at ease in the mountains; I felt safe and welcome; I felt like I could be the person I was meant to be and that the mountains could help repair my damaged sense of self. Montana definitely sprang me into a life that had been lost to me - one where I once again felt good about myself and believed in myself and loved myself. The mountains are life affirming. So, I loved the mountains of Adjara in southwest Georgia just as I loved the mountains of Montana, Colorado, and northern Georgia.

Suffice it to say, however, that when I lived in Adjara as a Fulbright, it was difficult to get to the north.

This time, living in Tbilisi, the situation is far different and the mountains of the north are a mere few hours drive away. So, I decided to escape the oppressive summer heat of the city and head north.

On my marshrutka ride up to Kazbegi (or Stepantsminda), I befriended some Russian tourists and we all stopped at a waterfall to fill up our bottles and cool down in the refreshing spray. I bought some fresh fruit leather and snapped photos (as I always do). We passed the ski resort of Gudauri, the monument to Russian-Georgian friendship built during Soviet times, and the travertine spring that sits near the top of the mountain pass all the while the views were getting more and more wild.

A roadside stand. Souvenirs, churchkhela (nuts dipped
in fruit sauce), and fruit leather.

A village along the Georgian Military Highway

Once in the town of Kazbegi, the owner of the guesthouse where we were to be staying greeted us each with a shot of chacha, which is Georgian moonshine in case anyone has forgotten. The three of went to what would turn out to be a rather mediocre dinner before the true magic was to begin. Over the course of our dinner conversation - in Russian - I learned that these girls also liked photography so afterwards, we banded together and walked around town well into the evening taking pictures. It was considerably cooler in Kazbegi and as we sat on a hillside drinking wine, a storm rolled in and rain began to slowly spit down from the sky. We made it back to the guesthouse just in time and I huddled under the blankets and read in my room as the sky really opened up outside.

The village Gergeti, Gergeti Trinity Cathedral, and Mount Kazbek

Gergeti Trinity Cathedral

A storm rolling in

Is anybody home?

Ancestors keeping watch.

Evening thunderstorm

A home being reclaimed by the Earth.

The next morning, I woke briefly at six to capture dawn breaking on the brilliant Mount Kazbek. By then, the storm was long gone and the sky was clear. It was chilly and I shivered as I snapped several photos before hurrying back to the warmth of my bed.

The monastery and mountain at dawn

Mount Kazbek is an ancient volcano

Last year, I had come up to Kazbegi with my parents during my final week in Georgia. We decided to take a 4X4 up to Gergeti Monastery, a 14th Century church that sits perched 2200 meters above the town and below the 5047-meter Mount Kazbek. The road was quite possibly the worst I have ever been on, matched only by the road to my host mother's village in Adjara. This time, I wanted to hike up. Later in the morning, this time by myself, I ambled around town (and was offered wine and chacha at 10:30 in the morning by some men on the street) before leisurely starting towards the village of Gergeti and the monastery that sits above it. As I began climbing the mountain, the sounds of civilization melted away and I was left with nothing but the wind, the creek, the birds, and the crickets. Despite the church being crowded with tourists and trekkers, I had the trail nearly to myself. It stirred my heart and my soul.

A house in Gergeti village

An ancient watchtower

The hiking trail

Mount Kazbek emerges from the other side of the ridge.

Gergeti Monastery

Gergeti Trinity Cathedral

The village of Gergeti (foreground) and town of Kazbegi (background)

Gergeti

After the hike, I had a delicious meal in town and then headed back into the oven that was Tbilisi.

European schnitzel and fries, with Georgian eggplant and walnut sauce

A Greta and Keda Reunion

On Friday morning, I rolled out of bed and ran to the train station. I bought my ticket and was soon headed to the Black Sea coast.

The day I arrived in Georgia I had begun to plot a way to visit my Fulbright host site, Keda, and my Georgian family and friends that live there. Since it is roughly a six hour train or marshrutka ride to Batumi from Tbilisi and then another hour to Keda, I took Friday off. If Keda was closer to Tbilisi, I would visit more often, but as it stands now, that would be hard to do.

View from the train. Western Georgia is humid and subtropical.

This very Soviet scene.

Once in Batumi, I could feel my excitement mount. I sat in the Keda marshrutka at the dodgy, dirty Batumi bus station waiting to go, slightly apprehensive. Ever since I left Georgia last year, I had imagined what I would do when I first returned to Keda...who would I see first? Who would see me first? What would happen?

The marshrutka station in Batumi

Keda marshrutka

Well, that question was answered for me. When I arrived in Keda, I hopped off the marshrutka and started heading up the hill towards my host family's house.

"GRETA!!!!!"

I spun around and who do I see come dashing up the hill behind but two of my favorite girls - sisters, Tamuna and Nini! They both more or less crashed into me with big hugs and insisted on taking my bags off my hands.

Nini scurried up the stairs of one of the neighbor's homes to announce my arrival. Malvina!

Then came the big greeting. I finally reached my host family's house and on the back porch I see my host mother. "Tsitso!" She hugged me, told me I was too skinny, and within minutes whipped up a bunch of food and had me eat.

What was on TV but Turkish soap operas dubbed into Georgian. As always. But, wait! A twist! Midway through my meal, Tsitso came into the room and switched the channel to an Indian soap opera dubbed into Georgian. Every single day, without fail, when I was in Keda last year, Tsitso and every other woman in Adjara, watched these programs. 

Meanwhile, Tamuna and Nini sat with me while I ate, staring.  Last year, Tamuna seemed to have taken a shine to my camera and so, I wanted to get her a special gift for my return - a camera! Immediately, she seemed smitten with it, thanking me profusely. All the older Georgians wanted to know how much it was, but I refused to tell them. I told them: "In America, you never ask someone how much a present costs." They accepted this, although I could tell they were really curious. In Georgia, it is perfectly normal to ask someone what their salary is, so asking how much a gift cost would not phase them.

At this point, Giorgi came bounding into the house, back briefly from swimming in the river: "DEDI!" (MOM!) He thought I would arrive in the evening, so when he saw me sitting on the couch, he did a double-take.  "Greta!" He smiled, his eyes still carrying their mischievous twinkle.

In the late afternoon, I sat with Malvina and her mother, Narqizi, at the local cafe and snacked on delicious watermelon. In the evening, I sat with all my neighbors and sipped on Turkish coffee and ate sweet plums.

Turkish coffee, plums, and sweets.

Yours truly and Tamuna!

Narqizi

On Saturday, Giorgi, Tamuna, Nini, and I all went down to the river to swim. Along the way, a whole bunch of other kids joined us. It was sweltering and so the water felt incredibly refreshing. Of course, as I packed for this trip back in Tbilisi, I had anticipated possibly swimming, but somehow did not bring sunscreen or my swimsuit. When I asked if I could buy sunscreen in Keda, I was told no. "You don't need it!" Tsitso proclaimed. Huh.  So, I swam in a t-shirt and my sleeping shorts. It was so hot, I knew they would both dry out before I went to bed. I did not stay and swim for too long as I did not want to be burnt to a crisp. That evening, everyone who had gone swimming with me was burned while I remained unscathed.

In the river.

After swimming, I walked around town, searching for my English teaching counterparts. None of them were to be found. I then went and hung out with Malvina for awhile, chatting. She is a university student studying English, so we were able to converse pretty easily.

Malvina and Tamuna on either side of me!

Keda!

A view down valley.

An old, still-functioning gas station in Keda

The mountains of Adjara

And so the rest of my day was spent eating, drinking Turkish coffee, and hanging with old friends.

Tamuna was alarmed that I had to leave the next day.

"Work," I pouted.

"You come again?"

"Of course." Without a doubt I will return before I leave for America.

My dear neighbors! From left: Tamuna, Maka, me, Malvina, Narqizi, and Mzia.

Me and my host mother, Tsitso!

My marshrutka ride on Sunday was probably one of the wilder marshrutka rides I have been on and that is saying something. My driver drove at a blazing speed, passing others wildly. One black SUV tried to pass us but a car was coming in the other direction, but instead of falling back behind us, the SUV veered right for us. The only way we avoided getting into a serious three-car collision was by my driver quickly pulling  onto the shoulder of the road. I cursed and watched in amazement as the SUV pulled the same stunt on another marshrutka ahead of us.

But that's not the worst incident. Not exactly. An hour or so later, a marshrutka pulled up alongside mine and a passenger stuck his head out the window and started yelling. In a huff, my driver accelerated to pass...but so did the other marshrutka. TAP! My driver hastily pulled over and before I knew it, the other driver had my driver by the collar and slammed him against my vehicle, right where I was sitting. Everyone piled out after the other male passengers pulled the drivers apart and then proceeded to scream at each other for a good five minutes. The women watched, shaking their heads and I decided to take some pictures of the pretty views. I was fed up with the ride.

View from the side of the road. Eastern Georgia has a dry, continental climate.

By 8 pm, we had finally reached Tbilisi and thank goodness!

It was a wonderful weekend of relaxation and the reunion with my host family and friends was more than I could have asked for. My home on the other side of the world!

From TWIG T-Shirts to Pantsuits

Summer did not start exactly as I had planned it to go. As a graduate student at the University of Washington, I now follow the quarter system and thus get out of school in June instead of May. The plan was: go home for two weeks and then head back to Georgia where I would start my internship at the U.S. Embassy promptly on June 22^nd. But that did not happen. I was waiting to receive my security clearance and while waiting, June 22^nd came and went. 

I waited and waited and waited, all the while growing more impatient and more frustrated. I went into near panic when the State Department said if I did not hear back by July 18^th, well then, my internship would essentially be forfeited. By June 28, I was near desperate and discouraged, despite assurances by my cousin that in the world of government bureaucracy, I still had plenty of time. Luckily, I was able to work at the camp I have worked at for the past eleven years – what was supposed to only be a one-day visit turned into a three week gig, thus making it year number twelve. If I did not have TWIG Day Camp, I do not know what I would have done, I think I would have gone crazy at home waiting. Over the years, this camp has been a lifesaver in more ways than one. I will always cherish the summers I have spent as a counselor at TWIG. 

TWIG (Together We Influence Growth) Day Camp's founding principle.

I received an email from the Embassy in Tbilisi on June 29^th stating that I could defer my internship until the fall if I did not hear back before the deadline and while it gave me some hope that maybe I could do my internship after all, I was not too thrilled about pushing it back. It would have really thrown a wrench into my plans to graduate next June, not to mention my apartment in Seattle, my loans, and where I would have been able to live come next summer. It was not a very feasible idea.

Tuesday, June 30^th started like all the others had since coming back to Chicago, with no news. As I was getting ready to leave for camp, I decided to check my email for the third time that morning.

And there was the email. Cleared.

I decided to head to my vacation house in northwest Illinois for Independence Day with my parents and pets before I left, since I would not get much chance to see them for the rest of the year. Three days after that and I was on a plane headed east over the Atlantic.

Not two hours passed after arriving in Georgia before I was greeted with my first “adventure” abroad. My suitcase safely arrived in one piece, an Embassy driver picked me up no problem, we found the apartment where I would be staying with no difficulty, and that is where my trip without a hiccup ended. I stuck the key in the door, turned it, heard it unlock, turned the knob, and nothing. There was another key and another lock, I tried it and had about the same success. My driver tried; no luck. The guard came up and tried. No. We all could hear the door unlocking, but it would not open. I knocked, rang the doorbell, and called my roommate all to no avail. Finally, I gave up and went to a hostel downtown where I had stayed before and knew the owner well.

Keep in mind that pretty much all flights get into Tbilisi in the middle of the night. By the time I arrived at the hostel, it was close to six and the sun was already coming up. The prospect of sleep sounded good, but that was not to be because just as I arrived and had gotten somewhat settled, Tatiana, the owner of the hostel, came to me and said someone called asking for me. My roommate. Tatiana sprang me a cab and I trekked back to my apartment and was able to get in with ease. Turns out the door had been deadbolted. 

Tbilisi sunrise (my first morning back)

Welcome to Georgia.

My apartment is tripped out with more locks than I even imagined possible. In fact, the entire apartment has amenities that I hadn't believed existed in Georgia: smoke detecter, a fire extinguisher, and a dryer. All of these things are fairly common in America, but not here in Georgia. In addition, the apartment itself is huge. It is several times larger than my apartment in Seattle. At only 420 square feet, my little studio apartment in Seattle can't even fit a couch and my hallway doubles as a kitchen. But this apartment? I will let the pictures do the talking: 

The foyer

Breakfast table

Kitchen

Two refrigerators

Dining room

Living room

Working at camp, attire had been a strictly casual affair – t-shirts and shorts (or leggings as a cool Chicago summer would have it – but the internship is strictly formal. I had prepared for this contingency back in December when I first found out about the internship and bought my first suit. If in the future I am in the career that I want, business wear will be everyday wear.

I really cannot go into the details of what I do at work, but I can say that so far I am enjoying it immensely. The days are long, but the hours flash by...most of the time. The first few days at the Embassy were slow, but now I have a lot to do and no time to lose.

In place of the details of what I do at the Embassy, I will give you anecdotes of my life in Georgia these past two weeks:

• There are fireworks almost every single night. I reason that it must be the same person because it is always in the same location and the fireworks seem to be pretty high grade. I would hazard that the person who is setting them off is not trained in pyrotechnics – as has become commonplace in America when handling that level of firework – but since this is Georgia, nearly everyone is “trained” in setting off fireworks. I remember New Year's Eve last year in Keda when nearly every household set off fireworks.
• Driving in Georgia is insane. This I knew, but it is still always amazing to see. Just yesterday as I was coming home from work, we were driving merrily along when another car honked at us. We were in the right lane, the driver in the left, and he was disgruntled at the fact that we were in the way of his right-turn from the left lane. Go figure.
• I live on a pretty busy street and live above a traffic light. Traffic lights in Georgia seem to give license to drivers to forcefully step on the accelerator when the light turns green, leaving me to wonder if I somehow am not really in Georgia, but am at the Indy 500 instead.
• The cost of living in Georgia is pretty cheap for an American. Granted, it is probably best not to spend money willy nilly, but even a po' graduate student can get by okay.
• Just as before, I have random Georgians calling me all the time. “Is Eka there? Eka!” “No, sorry, I don't speak Georgian.” “Eka!” “I'm an American-” “Eka!” This is when I usually hang up. This is pretty much what happens without fail, just substitute the name Eka with some other Georgian name and this is what 99 percent of my phone conversations with Georgians are like. 
  
  

  

  Balconies abound in Tbilisi.

  
  
  
  
  

  

  Tbilisi theater

  
  

  

  Tbilisi's Old Town

  
  

  

  A balcony in Old Town

  
  

  

  Old Town

  
  

  

  Churchkhela, a tasty treat of walnuts dipped in fruit sauce!

I hope this post has not been too boring for you, dear reader. Thank you for bearing with me. I will tell you that one year and one month after I left Georgia, I am back. It was never a question of if I would come back, but when. I don't think I expected to come back so soon, but here I am and I am thrilled. Georgia is one of my many homes. I have family here. If there is anything my Fulbright experience taught me is that you don't need to be related by blood to be family and you don't necessarily have to speak the native language well to have a place speak to your soul. All you need is an open heart.