50 Words or Less: Feb 13

Monday: Greeted the sun on my way to school and watched as the feet of snow melted into one foot of snow, went to Telavi for the internet, and stayed up late enough to know I wouldn’t be watching the Grammy’s.

Tuesday: Who knew 5^th graders could care so much about one point, 1^st graders could be so cute, 2^nd graders could be so loud, and 3^rd graders could be so awful? And to make matters worse, it’s Valentine’s Day. Khachapuri for lunch and khinkali for dinner makes everything better, though.

Wednesday: Apparently when Niko checked the hot water in the shower and found it not running, he left it on; when I went to take a “bath” an hour later, the bathroom was filled with steam, I couldn’t see 6” in front of me, and good laundry water was being wasted.

Thursday: Went to school prepared to teach lessons alone; instead, I met the new co-teacher and left school at the end of the day with a migraine – exhausted and overwhelmed. For the first time, it wasn’t because of the students.

Friday: After looking up a word she needed to translate for me, Ani started skimming through my Georgian-English dictionary that uses out-of-date English at times. After asking me if I have a “lover” and calling me a chaffinch, she exclaimed, “Andrea…seriously?!” Apparently she’d reached the “s” page.

Saturday: Woke up to my best friend calling to tell me she’s engaged. I was excited with her, but eventually I had to face reality: take off the gloves I slept in, get an extra pair of leggings to walk to church, do laundry outside,learn how to make “Cake Nana”.

Sunday: Homemade cheese and hot bread for breakfast, cake for brunch, and my second hot shower in one week; I’m so happy that having to use my hairdryer to dry a pair of underwear because I washed them all yesterday and the cold froze them couldn’t even dampen my spirits.

50 Words or Less: January 30 and February 6

Week of January 30


Monday: Dancing to host dad’s ringtones, flicking ants off bread, putting gloves on to get ready for bed, walking 15 minutes each way to and from school in the middle of the day to teach one lesson, correcting Ani as she recites a Georgian poem – just another day in the village.


Tuesday: Went to the internet café in Gurjaani, stared back at a small Georgian boy, attempted to start the fire in the pechi, failed at starting the fire in the pechi, passed a fox (or a dog) on the way to school. Day 9 without consistent water.


Wednesday: I’m sorry; are you speaking English or have you made up an entirely new language as a result of not knowing English; it sounds like the latter. And there’s nothing better than cake for the birthday of a teacher’s daughter who is studying in Tbilisi; any excuse for a celebration.


Thursday: One of my first grade students turned to me during class and smiled – her mouth full of blood and a tooth in her hand. My teacher looked up, asked me what had happened, laughed, and turned back to the student she was helping. 


Friday: The best part about watching the illegally downloaded version of Troy with my host brothers is the English summary I get every few minutes; the movie was in English. 


Saturday: Bebia decided my socks were not warm enough and put her robe over my feet. She then gave me a pair of socks, a blanket, a cup of tea and the bowl of sugar, followed by a plate of bread and cheese, all the while muttering in Georgian. 


Sunday: An Idiot Abroad Season 2, Persuasion, chicken broth soup, a glass of wine, macaroni and cheese, peach compote, and sledding with Ani…all in all, a good day.




Week of February 6


Monday: Bought new, very warm, boots for the cold weather that forced me to chip away this morning at the urine-filled ice cube that formed overnight in the toilet bowl. 


Tuesday: The kid in the green ski mask with a baseball-cap-like bill that sounds like he’s having a meltdown whenever he speaks (and who actually has meltdowns often) is a bright spot in my day when my teacher decides to tell me I don’t do anything in class. 


Wednesday: After the first lesson of three I would apparently be teaching alone, we were sent home until Monday due to snow. 4 hours of being alone with Ani has made me understand why parents love sending their children back to school. We celebrated by eating one of Nana’s cakes. 


Thursday: Out of power for the entire day, we went to Gurjaani, where we encountered two boys who – instead of yelling, “Hello!” – greeted us with “f***” ten times. 


Friday: Cleaned the kitchen, worked on my craft, read Anna Karenina, and played cards while the power was out; somewhere between moving to Georgia and today, I turned into an old woman. That’s what happens when you live in a village. 


Saturday: Friendship toasted with a twelve-year-old today and finished off 2 ½ bottles of wine with a group of 5 12-year-olds, 1 9-year-old, and Nana. And I thought Ani was bad enough on her own…turns out when 5 more join the group and get drunk, it can get worse. 


Sunday: Played outside for 25 minutes with Ani, watched Tangled with Susan and Jenny, ate way more than I should have at dinner (khinkali, khachapuri, fried chicken, and cream puffs), and crafted on the couch while Ani did math homework: a successful day.

50 Words or Less: January 23

I have recently found myself thinking of experiences in terms of potential status updates. I realize that’s ridiculous, especially since I don’t have immediately, daily, or even bi-weekly access to Facebook. However, such is life. Tonight (as I’m laying in bed with two bottles filled with hot water to keep me warm, two jackets, leggings, sweatpants, socks, and a hood), I decided to write them down to help me keep track of random things throughout the week as well as countdown the remaining weeks of my time here in Georgia (mainly, my time in the winter).

Since I have internet access once a week, I’m going to start posting these pseudo-Facebook statuses each week so that you, my readers (aka…mom and dad and the others they force to read this), can follow along with me in a typical week of Georgian experiences. Congrats; feel free to consider yourself lucky to have stumbled upon this delightful new addition to your life.

Week 1: Week of January 23 (Yes, I’m starting with Mondays because that’s the first day of the week for me…the first day of school)

Monday: There’s nothing like being greeted by my director after the holidays by signing two papers saying that I’ve received the president’s gift of wine, champagne, chocolates, and a card with various Georgian government buildings on the inside.

Tuesday: I know a student isn’t paying attention when she peers at me for two minutes over her book that she’s stood on her desk.

Wednesday: The teacher black market today consisted of 30 toothbrushes, 30 tubes of toothpaste, hand towels, and wash cloths; it was great watching teachers, one by one, walk over to the English-labeled toothpastes, unscrew the tops, and taste the contents to see if it is mint or not.

Thursday: I didn’t realize that Georgian students use snowball fights as training to become assassins.

Friday: When a group of men buys me cake, what are your suggestions? If I eat it, does it mean I’ll sleep with them, or would I be better off throwing it to the ground and yelling, “I will not sell my sexuality for a very large piece of cake!”

Saturday: A snow day in America means cuddling up in sweatpants by the fire with a good book; a snow day in Georgia means cuddling up in sweatpants, leggings, two shirts, a sweater, socks, and slippers by the pechi with one of the two books I brought with me.

Sunday:Never again will I spend at entire winter weekend with an 11-year-old; by 3:15 on Saturday, I have reached my whining, card game playing, and attention-seeking behavior quota.

Snow Days in Georgia

After 5 weeks of vacation, 1,300 pictures (that survived the cut), 3 boats, 4 countries, 1 rental car, 11 hotels/B&B’s/lodges/hostels/guesthouses, and 5 packages of Duo cookies, I am back in Shashiani.

I trudged through 8” of snow with a large duffle bag, a carry on, my computer bag, and a coat to get back to my house, all the while cursing the winter and its consequences. However, less than a week later, I realized that 8” is nothing compared to 14”. Granted, these are rough measurements; I have no way of actually knowing how much snow we have, especially because most of the surfaces are uneven, so it’s not as simple as just looking at a few tracks in the snow and approximating. However, I think my estimates are fairly accurate for the majority of my experiences.

My students’ favorite question for me as of late has been, “You like snow?” My reply is typically something like, “I like the snow because it is beautiful, but I do not like the cold.” (Me miqkhvars tovli imitom rom is lamazia magram me ar miqkhvars tsiva.)

By the time I got back to the village, the snow had been there for a few days and had been fairly packed down in most areas. However, after Friday’s snow, there was nothing but cold feet, wet boots, and several layers of socks. As I left school on Friday, I was greeted by snowballs whizzing through the air; I’m happy to join in when I am not the sole target. I found solace with the 3^rd graders and walked home in slush.

I had dinner with Jenny’s family Friday night and got in a taxi around 6:30 to get back to my village. However, the roads were bad, and I was a bit concerned at the reliability of the driver’s car. We went slowly through Vazisubani and eventually reached the bottom of the hill entering Shashiani. My road lies toward the top of the hill, so I gave him a better marker of the “first shop”. However, as we crawled up the hill, I realized we were not going to get that far. I got out as he backed down the hill and swung the car around. I was greeted by students sliding down the road in old toboggans or just sliding down on their feet and watched for a few seconds before I continued on down my road. I eventually ended up back at the road and played with Ani and a few younger students outside, dodging cars and pulling toboggans.

Saturday proved to be the ultimate snow day; it was cold, and I felt lazy. In America, a snow day infers a blazing fire in the fireplace, sweatpants, a good book, and a cup of hot cocoa, with a snowman or two thrown into the middle. In Georgia, however, a snow day infers a seat by the pechi, sweatpants, leggings, two long—sleeved shirts, one sweater, a pair of fuzzy socks, and slippers, one of the few books I brought with me to Georgia, and a cup of fruit juice from whatever compoti we have open, with a snowman and 3 snowball fights thrown into the middle. 

An Entirely Different Perspective

Nearly 4 months ago, I was sitting at Gate 213 in the Istanbul airport writing in my journal, desperately trying to feel better about moving to Georgia. At one point, I had to stop writing because I was getting teary-eyed in front of all my new friends and fellow TLG volunteers. Throughout the whole process, I had convinced myself that, in a way, I was above the effects of moving overseas. However, siting in the airport, I could no longer deny the doubts and fears facing me. I wrote as much as I could, admitted my concerns, and played cards.

Today, in a very different set of circumstances, I am sitting in the Istanbul airport writing in my journal (which is my computer since my journal is tucked away somewhere), gaining excitement about the prospect of being back in Georgia. I will admit that it is a strange feeling to have left the country and to be now going back to it instead of going home to the States. It seems that since I've left, I shouldn't be going back. I can’t help but thinking of Georgia as a means to the ends – flying home. In 5 months, I will be back here; if I make it through 5 months, I will be flying home.

I’m struck, though, by how different my frame of mind is after 4 months. I am no longer stressing out about the little details – getting to the hotel, finding our luggage, meeting people, being placed in a family, teaching classes. Instead, I am confident of where to catch the bus (#37) and where to get off (Avlabari station), and I have no concerns about getting my luggage. I am not worried about meeting people because I have a lovely set of friends in and around my village. Teaching is a constant concern, but I now know what to expect. No longer am I sitting in the airport with a general fear of the unknown; I know what I’m going back to, and I like it.

The more I think about it, the more I get excited about being back in the culture I've become accustomed to. I've spent so much effort learning the language, adapting to new situations, and becoming involved in my surroundings that I cannot imagine having left in December. I realize this post is a bit convoluted, but that's how I'm feeling; I miss my life in Georgia, but I miss my friends and family in the States. I'm looking forward to the next 5 months in Georgia, but I'm looking forward to the end of the next 5 months. And since this is my form of "journaling" today, those who are reading this get the pseudo-journal ramblings. I realize it's not as ...light-hearted...as it usually is; I promise I'll get back to my version of humor in my next post. Enjoy.

Christmas Movies and Sparking Fruit Punch

I have now celebrated two major holidays in Ireland – Christmas and New Years – and although I miss the familiar traditions from the past years of my life with family and friends, I also enjoy the random memories made while celebrating holidays overseas. 

To celebrate Christmas, Jenny and I decided to go to a Christmas evensong (which is basically a mass) in a 12^th century church in Dublin at 11pm. Although it was very long and very…Latin, I wouldn’t have done it differently. We took communion, which was not a “normal” sort of communion, but I liked it. Communion is one of those things that I take for granted, and when it’s not how I know it to be, it forces me to think about it. It has happened in Georgia, and now it has happened in Ireland. 

We slept in on Christmas morning until 11am and woke up to have a delicious breakfast of donuts – a tradition Jenny’s family has. I opened the presents my family had sent, and we picked out the day’s movie line-up. We started the day out with Holiday Inn, followed by The Holiday and a bit of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I called my family on Skype and talked with them for a bit, which is always delightful. I read the Christmas story while we ate Christmas candy and junk food – a tradition my family has (although the junk food is not necessary to the tradition). Jenny went to bed, and I continued the evening with sitting in the hallway, watching the first half of the Packer game.

The second holiday – New Year’s Eve – was celebrated, only 1 hour and 15 minutes ago, in Galway, Ireland. We had the delightfully naïve idea that bringing in the new year with random Irish people in a pub would be an unforgettable experience, so we got dinner and started the search for the perfect pub. Most were charging covers up to €20 per person, so our choices were narrowed down significantly. We finally found one that looked promising, and although we had to shove our way in, we eventually squeezed our way to the bar and ordered drinks. 

Sitting down next to a random old man, we silently congratulated ourselves on finding the only two seats in the entire building. We quickly realized, however, that our victory was empty as there was a clear reason no one had beaten us to the bench. The man, who seemed a bit tipsy but possibly sweet, was fairly drunk and fairly crazy. He would not stop talking and neither would the second man that came up a few minutes later. Finishing our drinks, we eventually escaped the old man’s prattles but not before he showed us his back scar where a bullet from one of the three (that’s right, three) world wars and not before he insisted on fixing our hair so that he could take a picture of us. We wandered around city center in search of a better bar but to no avail. We eventually ended up back in the same pub, where we got another set of drinks. We quickly realized, however, that the night would not be fun if we spent it standing up, shoved up against everyone else. We made the decision to leave and get a bottle of champagne from the store and take it back to the room to celebrate on our own. Little did we know that Ireland stops selling alcohol at 10pm. Instead, we got the next best thing: sparking fruit punch. 

We walked back to the hotel, where we snuck unnoticed so that we didn’t have to answer any unnecessary questions. Getting back to the room, I immediately changed into sweatpants and put my hair into a ponytail. We watched a few clips of good New Year’s Eve movie scenes and then played a few rounds of duraka (cards). At one minute to go, we poured the sparking fruit punch and started an appropriate song to have in the background as the new year began. We decided to drink our punch “Georgian friendship toast” style, which means nothing to those who have not been to a Georgian supra…which is most of you. After downing the whole glass while linking arms and kissing on the cheek three times, we had a chance to recognize that the aftertaste of our celebratory juice was awful. Really awful. We continued with cards and then watched an episode of Community. Jenny fell asleep and then woke up and started into crazy mode, which is always fun to experience.

Here’s the point of this post (apart from informing the world on what my holidays have been): I don’t mind changing things up a bit. I like my traditions, and I like being in a place where I’m surrounded by friends and family. However, I’ve realized that celebrating the holidays, wherever I am and however it is done, is still a celebration. I like doing it in whatever way seems the most fitting for the experience I’m having at the time. This year, I have lived in Georgia and am visiting Ireland. It is very fitting in my mind to have some strange sorts of holiday experiences, then, because my year has been that of a strange sort. 

Jenny’s going to bed and I’m going to look up some London activities, but first I’m going to drink another glass of what has been deemed “puke juice” while sitting in my room in Ireland three weeks away from being back in Georgia because this has been a strange sort of year. Here's to 2012 being the same sort of year.

One Adventures Leads to Another

I had a dream last night that I was leaving Georgia; I was back in the States with my family, and I was trying not to cry because I couldn’t understand why I didn’t have a proper goodbye with my Georgian family. I was confused that it wasn’t yet Christmas, and I was leaving without the intention of coming back. It’s been 2 months since I’ve been in Georgia, and I am proud to say that I was happy to wake up from that dream. As much as I miss my family and friends in America and have days that I would like nothing better than to be there, I love Georgia, and it’s been a fabulous 2 months living in Shashiani and experiencing all that comes with that: walking faster to get onto the road before the cow does, learning to avoid glancing in the rat-infested gutters, appreciating soap operas, cuddling with hot water bottles in the night, perfecting the art of layering, chasing chickens out of the kitchen, becoming part of a church that does not speak my language, drying clothes in the midst of a snowstorm, and playing duraka for hours.

However, in one week, I will be leaving the country to go to another in search of yet another adventure. I can’t help but think that this is the sort of thing that happens in movies or to other people. I am the one who talks about traveling, not the one who actually endures all the “adventures” that go along with that. At some point, I may start another blog called “The Adventures of a Non-Adventurous Girl” because that pretty well defines my thoughts on the matter.

If moving to Georgia wasn’t enough, I am now getting ready to spend nearly 1 month in Ireland. We (my traveling buddy Jenny and I) will be spending Christmas and New Years in Ireland and Scotland, although as it happened, we’ll only be in Scotland for one week. We’ve rented a car, booked hotels, confirmed reservations, and planned travel via ferries, cars (driven on the opposite side of the road), trains, and buses. It’s a lot of adventure packed into one month, yet I can’t help but feel prepared. This preparation is not the kind that comes from organizing the trip perfectly because heavens knows we haven’t done that (don’t be concerned, mom and dad). Rather, it’s the preparation that comes from spending 2 months in a country where no one speaks fluent English or is there to hold your hand as you discover public transportation. Please don’t misunderstand me; there are numerous parts of this trip that are new and seemingly “too-adventurous” for me, but for a change, those are in the minority.

So in 1 week, we will leave the village and take a marshutka to Tbilisi. We will take the metro to the biggest market where I can finally buy a black purse, some slippers, and possibly an extra pair of sweatpants. We will check in at our favorite hostel and say goodbye to the TLG friends we’ve made here. We will attempt to see a movie in Georgian at the theater of which we already know the location, and we will take the metro and/or bus to the airport, where we will fly to Istanbul and then off to Dublin for another month of adventure. If I’ve learned anything at all in the past 2 months, it’s that as much as I can become comfortable in one part of life, adventure always manages to be lurking around the corner.