As I sit in the kitchen as my family
watches yet another Spanish soap opera dubbed in Georgian, I have a bit of time
to update my readers, as I have not done so far a few weeks.
Life in Shashiani has proved to suit me
quite well. Typically, I am finished with teaching by around 1:30. I come home,
eat lunch, and read a book or study Georgian. As my e-reader is currently
uncharged, studying the Georgian language has been my latest pastime.
I live with a family of 4: Nana, Niko, Ani,
and bebia. Nana is a general physician and works during the day. Niko does a
bit of everything and is always busy with some sort of project. Ani is Nana and
Niko’s niece who lives with them as her mom works in Turkey. She is 11 and is
one of my 6th grade students. Babua (grandfather in Georgian) stays
inside; I don’t have much interaction with him.
Teaching has proved to be the most
difficult part of the Georgian transition. I have two co-teachers; however, I
only have one class with Maia. It has been difficult because, at times, it
seems as though my school simply tolerates my presence. I knew co-teaching
would be a challenge, and I’m trusting it will get better. This week my main
focus, other than teaching, has been getting to know the other teachers better
and jumping in with my classes whenever I can.
Everywhere I look, I am surrounded by
something interesting and beautiful in its own way. My backyard is full of
various fruit trees and bushes and is framed with the Caucasus Mountains. When
I sit on the swing to read, I can observe chickens walking in front of me, a
cart full of branches pulled by a horse outside the door, and my Georgian dad
draining the various stages of wine from a wooden barrel next to the karalioki
tree.
I have also had an opportunity to explore
the Georgian capital, Tbilisi, as I have two Georgian brothers who live there
with their babua (grandmother). I have seen 5th century fortresses,
a fantastic view from Bombora Park, the watchful statue of kartlisdeda (Mother
of Georgia) amidst the beautiful botanical gardens.
I have also visited the quaint town of
Sighnaghi which is surrounded by a very old wall that we, of course, climbed
all over. From the top of the towers, you can see for miles until the view is
interrupted by the imposing mountains. I have attempted to capture it all
through photos, but picture refuses to show what I see.
This week it has begun to get colder, and
I’m sure that as temperatures continue to drop, things will become less
idyllic. My 20 minute walk to school will no longer be a brilliant introduction
to my day; rather, it will be a dreaded part of my morning. Sitting outside
will be an impossibility without hundreds of layers, and coats will not be a
fashion statement. Until then, however, I will absorb it all and recognize that
winter can only last so long…or so they say.
As an additional bonus for those of you who
have lasted this long, I am including a special feature to this blog post;
enjoy.
Honking,
either from cars, trucks, marshutkas, taxis, or vans, can be broken down so
as
to understand the meaning. In America, if someone honks, it is the first step
to
road rage. In Georgia, that is not the case. This is particularly helpful
if, as a
foreigner, you feel all the honking is aimed at you.
1.
Honk to let other drivers know
of your presence.
2.
Honk to say hello to fellow
drivers. This rings particularly true of “professional” drivers
(i.e. marshutka
and taxi drivers).
3.
Honk to let other drivers know
you will be passing them – usually occurs when the
honker has pulled up next to
the honkee.
4.
Honk to let pedestrians know
they will soon be run over.
5.
Honk to let pedestrians know
they will not be run over, regardless of how close the
driver intends to get.
6.
Honk to check the blind spots
on sharp curves.
7.
Honk to let the person know you
know that he or she is a foreigner because, let’s be
realistic, if there’s a
car honking with no one around but you, it’s probably directed to
you.
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