Friday, September 30, 2011

Snackage

It's mid-morning, so naturally my thoughts have turned to lunch. (And, I'll be honest: dinner, too.)

I was happy to find out there's an outlet of Georgia's ubiquitous grocery chain Populi just up the street. It's a tiny little shop the size of an American 7-Eleven, selling a decent array of food and booze. Sadly, no Slurpee machine.

Occasionally, food appears in the kitchen here at the office. Often, my host mom sends me to work with a container full of something delicious and guaranteed to give me terrible breath for the entire afternoon. Failing those options, I stroll up the road to Populi for the perfect lunch: fruit, sesame sticks, a sour cherry juice box and yogurt.

I feel a little like Mr. Magoo choosing packaged foods here. I can't read Russian (language of most packaging here) and you can't always rely on the picture to identify what's inside. Last week, I made the mistake of buying what I thought was yogurt but turned out to be a tub of gloppy canned-pie mix covered in petroleum-style whipped "cream."

Also note: the water bottle, filled with Tbilisi tap water. Yes! You can drink the tap water here. Perhaps only my Peace Corps friends will appreciate how glorious this is.

Larisa has some patients this afternoon, so my host brother and I are on our own for dinner. She said she would leave us some khatchapouri and lobiani:
No problem.

Updated: Magic lunch appeared in the office today! Schweet!

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Harriet the Spy steps out for lunch

When I was a kid, I totally wanted to be Harriet the Spy, who got all geared up after school to go spy on her neighbors.

I tried it a few times, but there was never anybody interesting to spy on.
Lately I feel properly Harriet-like when I pack my bag for my lunchtime research missions. Phone, camera, little notepad and pen, wallet, sunglasses (very important for remaining incognito).

Yesterday at lunch, I rambled around the somewhat sketchy area between my office and the big road nearby, looking for a shortcut that seems to suggest (on Google maps anyway) I could shave several blocks off my walking commute.

Unfortunately, unless I learn to fly (over giant ravines) or scale locked metal gates, the shortcut isn't going to happen.
Today I rambled to see what was up the road beyond the cemetery (answer: lots of construction and the mural at top) and whether the 171 martrushka actually passes by the office, as I suspected it did, even though on my morning commute it turns the wrong direction at Vake Park but then reappears going the same direction but several blocks before where it turned off.

(Also, I stopped to take a picture of this car. Drivers can choose the letters of their license plates. Only someone who doesn't speak English would pick this one!)

I felt very Harriet as I sat on my bus stop (located just outside the Iranian embassy), recording bus numbers in my little notebook.

Bus 171 does, in fact, materialize as if by magic just where it needs to for me to catch it to get home.

Not that I plan to ride the bus (unless it's raining).

Spies prefer to walk. We see more that way.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Treaty of Gurgievsk

One wonderfully bizarre surprise along last weekend's drive to Mt. Kazbegi was coming along this enormous mural near the top of a mountain pass on the Georgian Military Highway, which connects Tbilisi with Russia.

According to my trusty internet sources, the Soviet mural was erected in 1983 to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the 1783 Treaty of Gurgievsk, which established Georgia as a protectorate of Russia.

Given how that relationship turned out, I'm kind of surprised the thing is still standing.

But I am so glad it is. It's an incredible piece of artwork, in a setting so beautiful it almost seems fake.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Happy St. Ketevan Day. Or not.

In case you haven't consulted your calendar of Georgian Orthodox holy days lately, you may be unaware (as I was) that today is the saint day for my counterpart, Keti. The original Ketevan (that's Saint Ketevan to you) was martyred in 1624--tortured to death with red-hot pokers. Among other indignities.

Naturally, we celebrated her at the office this afternoon with a seven-layer cake and champagne.

To be honest, I don't care how bizarre it is. When they bring out the cake, I ask no further questions.

Pictured are two of the office's three Ketis. The one in blue is my counterpart, who arranged the event as a PR stunt for her namesake saint. In the middle is the director of the whole CARE shebang, and at right is another Keti namesake (but only her church name--like I said, once there's cake, no more explaining is necessary).

As much as I love a big hunk of cake, I have to say the rest of the afternoon was a bit of a challenge after I ate approximately twelve pounds of sugar (and, about 15 minutes later, crashed like a racecar). And champagne always gives me a headache.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Tsminda Sameba and chickens

I feel like I accomplished something significant this weekend by traveling to Tsminda Sameba, a church iconic enough in and of this country to be featured on the cover of the Lonely Planet guidebook to Georgia.

I also admired Mt. Kazbek, though it remained behind clouds for most of the weekend, and peeked at Russia from the hills above the border crossing.

On the drive home, my friends and I stopped for something to eat at a roadside cafe. I chose the retired car seat because it looked more cushy than the other option, a thin wooden bench.

While waiting for my Turkish coffee, I went to smooth down a lump in the coverlet covering the seat. I was surprised when my pat elicited a squeak like a stepped-on dog toy. Peeling back the cover, I found this poor girl who had been minding her own business guarding her egg. Obviously she had also chosen this seat as a cozy perch.

The commotion drew our hostess, who quickly chased away the hen (by way of my head) and claimed the egg for herself.

My apologies to the chicken.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

A chance

You can probably tell just by looking at this picture why I like my host parents so much. They are always this happy.

(OK, at least always since I moved in last Friday.)

I am beginning to understand what a big deal it is for Vakhtang to have an American living in his house--and to have sent his daughter to Indiana to study this year. He's a bit older than Larisa and grew up during the Cold War, when Georgia was back in the USSR. Just like Americans of that era, I'm sure he grew up with air-raid drills and stories about the boogeyman.

Unfortunately, that was us.

Luckily for me, he is willing to give Peace (Corps Response Volunteers) a chance.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Waiting

My laptop is still set to Central Standard Time, so when I start working, it's just past midnight in Missouri.

Throughout the day, I watch the minutes tick by and wait for my people in America to wake up and fire up their computers.

Of course, I occasionally get a little excited and jump the gun, as when I accidentally skyped my dad in the middle of the night. Luckily he didn't hear the ringing.

During my daily countdown, I'm often reminded of a vacation Trevor and I took to Lake Malawi with our friends Mathias and Helen and their daughter Essy, pictured here with Trevor. Essy was quivering with excitement about the beach but also threatened within an inch of her life not to wake up the parents. Instead, she would get up at the crack of dawn, gear up in the ensemble you see pictured here (yes, including the water wings, though Lake Malawi is about 2 feet deep at this beach) and creep to our bedroom to stand in the doorway and stare us awake.

It was remarkably effective. And, as you can see, at least one of us was always game to trot down to the water with her.

He's also pretty gracious about it when I get a little too anxious and skype our landline at the crack of dawn.

As I write this, it's 6 a.m. in Missouri. Are you awake yet, Trevor? Huh? Are you?

Weekend plans

Kazbhegi, baby.

I am thrilled to have friends here who 1. like to explore and 2. own a car.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Office

Here's me (and my giant armpit!) at my new office at CARE. The office is just behind a giant, beautiful indoor swimming pool that costs far too much for me to join (I've heard $500USD per month, which seems insane but also possible).

Although in this picture my counterpart is gone (she is off on yet another field trip while I wait to get official permission from PC to travel with her), I'm starting to get to know her and my other colleagues, figure out what I'm going to be doing, and learn my way around the office and the neighborhood. This morning, I was happy to discover that there is, in fact, a refrigerator where I can store my lunch. It's in the hallway outside the kitchen, not in the kitchen where I was looking for it. Silly me.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Peace out

Happy International Peace Day!

I celebrated by wearing my Mickey Mouse/ safari/ peace t-shirt and hanging out in Vake park down street from the CARE office (though we drove, naturally...) and taking pictures of the kids making peace-related sidewalk art. For me, the most impressive part was watching the ladies from the school make the kids pick up every. tiny. piece. of. trash.

I also spent a while watching the landscape guy trim those bushes into perfect circles, but couldn't get a good picture of him.

Hard-hitting international news, this is not.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Dumplings



Larisa taught me to make a type of dumplings unique to her village. Since I'm having trouble grasping names of things, I'm not going to tell you either one but just say that this experience further reinforces my belief that Georgians live almost entirely on dough, cheese, fruit and wine. I am not complaining but I think soon my digestive system may be.

Larisa's were beautiful and delicious. Sadly, the ones I made popped open in the boiling water and leaked cheese. They were still good, though.

(Pardon the sweatpants. Also, we were laughing throughout the process but especially the taking of this picture when her husband Vakthang climbed on the windowsill to get the right shot.)

Little brother


Anri was supposed to start school Monday but they're painting, so he gets another week of vacation.

This afternoon he had an attack of boredom so I took a break from working (at home) and we played a card game I think he invented (which, mercifully, ended eventually) and launched our new obsession: a picturesque village in the Swiss alps, diced into 1,000 pieces. (Only half of them would fit on the coffee table.)

I've never had a little brother before. I think I'm finally old enough to appreciate it.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Home, sweet home

I have slept in a car, and I have slept in a bed. Now I have both.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Day trip: Mtskheta

Sunday afternoon I tagged along with some friends on a visit to Mtskheta. Pronouncing this requires a throat-clearing sound not found in English but common in Georgian.

Apparently, you can't swing a cat in Georgia without hitting a gorgeous, ancient, historically significant church. This place is only about 5 miles outside Tbilisi.

We toured Jvari church, the Shio-Mgvime monastery (which requires a drive up a Zambia-style road) and the ancient walled city of Mtskheta itself, a World Heritage Site. I loved seeing how active and bustling the churches were. We saw a bunch of baptisms, people taking wedding photos, and a bunch of the faithful kissing icons and lighting candles.

Also we sampled Mtskheta's famous lobio, beans cooked in a clay pot. Delicious!

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Weekend

One week ago today, I boarded a plane for an excruciating two-day, five-flight voyage this country halfway across the planet.

I was expecting a week of jetlag, meetings, orientations, new food and a perplexing language, not to mention the major transition to stepping into a host family. I wasn't expecting to feel so comfortable, welcome, and not awkward. (Or, let's be honest, to be able to call my parents via Skype from my bedroom. Major Bonus.)

My host brother and I spent part of the afternoon watching Ironman (in Russian, sadly) and working a puzzle of the Chicago skyline (cultural exchange, thank you). When his grandmother called, I couldn't understand him but I knew he was talking about me when he said "puzzle" and called me a good girl.

This weekend, it feels pretty incredible to feel at home.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Authentic

In case the post about the poshness of my living accommodations makes you think I'm not actually having an Authentic Peace Corps Cultural Experience, it's 11 p.m. and there are some guys right outside my window playing some sort of drum and singing what sounds like a traditional Georgian song.

It is also possible that they are just drunk.

Home, again

We got off on a somewhat bumpy start when the intern who had been assigned as my babysitter/handler and the driver from CARE couldn't find my new house (which, as it turns out, is a hop & skip from the PC office). To be honest, I was a little worried until we pulled up and my lovely new host mom came out to greet us, then took us in to her gorgeous house, where my adorable and helpful host brother was watching Spiderman 2. In English, thank you. On a flat-screen TV.

Although my host mom speaks some English, said little brother is our translator for tricky phrases, though I am going to have to educate him at some point about the limitations of using "ain't."

Said little brother learned his (fairly respectable) English by spending the last 12 1/2 years watching the Cartoon Network, says mom.

Having recently spent a year in a mud hut with a grass roof, I am in a bit of shock to be living in a house with two dentists, wifi, a washing machine, a guinea pig, a treadmill in the basement rumpus room, and grape vines draped rustically all over the garden. (Plus GIANT kegs of homemade wine fermenting in the basement.) My host mom apologized that the water goes out sometimes. Also, the wifi can be slow.

Uh, somehow I will find a way to cope.

Home

After spending the week in a relatively swanky hotel, this afternoon I'll move into the home of my new host family.

My host mom is younger than I am. This could be strange.

I will be sleeping in the temporarily unoccupied bed of my teenage host sister, who is studying in the United States with the Flex program. Did I mention it's a racecar bed?

Don't worry, there will be pictures.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Word building



Dave is really excited that he can spell out his name in Georgian. I can spell out my name too, and I feel the exact same way.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Language class



In Zambia, our language training took place six days a week for nine weeks. This time, it’s a few sessions over three days. And there’s an entire new alphabet to learn.

The cards help.

Our Zambian village language tutor seemed to believe that once Trevor and I could sound out words, we would understand what they meant. Here in Georgia, I keep finding myself getting excited over puzzling out how to pronounce something that just three days ago was an incomprehensible tangle of curly-cues and squiggles. Then, sadly, I remember that I still have no friggin’ idea what it means.


Library

The Peace Corps lounge: wifi, books, and what is allegedly the best shower in all of Georgia.

And French press coffee, courtesy of Dave, who came almost directly from Uganda. Sweet!

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Training



I was kind of hoping that since I was only coming to Georgia for three months that I wouldn't have to learn the language.

Yesterday afternoon we started working on the alphabet. My brain feels like it's been turned inside out and scrubbed with a brillo pad. The Georgian alphabet is linguistically unique, and the letters all look like the opposite of what I expect them to sound.

That could just be the jetlag talking.

Anyway, this is where we ate lunch yesterday. Potato dumplings! And drinks! It was lovely and delicious. And there was a sweet little kitty.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Carry On

I very carefully packed a carry-on bag with lots of spare clothes and everything I would need for the entire week of orientation here at the Peace Corps office.

Lufthansa made me gate-check said carry on at LAX, and all I got on the plane with was my tiny laptop bag.

Naturally, not a single one of my bags made it here.

So much for planning ahead and all of that.

At least I'm here! And so far, so good.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Istanbul

I'm writing this post in the Greenport bar in the Istanbul airport, sitting here with my new colleague Dave, who I met in the LA airport two flights (and many, many hours) ago. He's drinking a Fez beer. Trevor and I called our last cat Fez.

In addition to jet lag, a crusty nose, swollen ankles, staticky (yet somehow also greasy) hair, and frayed nerves over a very important bag that Lufthansa made me gate check (and Turkish Airlines swears is now checked through to T'bilisi), I'm feeling pretty good. It was surreal going through LAX yesterday with what appeared to be every security guard and police officer scanning the crowds, and trying not to think about that horrible day 10 years ago as we lifted off and touched down four times.

I'm hoping that I left my tears behind when Trevor walked away in the Columbia airport (cashmere has no absorbent properties, by the way) and am ready to step forward into this new, excellent adventure.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Missing

This time, it was harder to leave Trevor.

(And the rest of my loved ones, including those pictured at left.)

I've been away from home for months before and find that it gets harder, not easier, to leave. Three months is not such a long time, but I worry about my parents, who are spry as heck but not getting any younger. I hate that every time I come back, my niece and nephew seem a foot taller and 10 years older (though I will admit that I am ok with just hearing about the band concerts). I hate missing out on fall, sitting on the deck and watching the leaves turn.

In a way, though, I appreciate how painful it is to leave. Otherwise maybe I would become numb to how awesome my ordinary life is, how excellent my hometown is, how rich I am in friends and family and four-legged creatures who snore, shed and drool. Maybe the wakeup call has to be painful to really shake me up.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Going away


Before our little shindig last weekend, my friend Ann was complaining that she only sees me at my going-away parties.

Well, that and Christmas when the rest of the college gang swings into town. And when she and the fam bike by on balmy summer evenings.

When we do get together, it's noteworthy. Lulu and Seth celebrated the anniversary of Seth taking some of his first steps on our porch (chasing her) by chasing each other around some more.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Conversational

When my favorite morning NPR show ended on my dog walk this morning, I switched my MP3 player to the travel Russian audiobook I downloaded from the library last night and started trying to pick up some new phrases. (They didn't have Georgian.)

This was complicated by the fact that it took me about five minutes to figure out which came first, the Russian lady or the English guy, and further because I was busy wondering about the circumstances that would surround such conversations as "Are you traveling alone?"

"Please speak more slowly" seemed especially troublesome. Considering that I am just now learning how to say please, thank you and "Good morning, madam," how much will it help me if somebody speaks slow gibberish as opposed to fast nonsense?

At least I am getting used to the sound of Russian in my ears. Next week (!!!!) I'll be surrounded by it.