Supra

I'm sure I would have found this funny if I could have understood it.

 To celebrate the start of camp, there was a supra. This is a formal event featuring ridiculous amounts of both food and alcohol, where numerous toasts are offered, in a structure passed down through generations, by the event's tamada, or toastmaster.

 I have mixed feelings about the supra tradition. On one hand, it's a nice way to build warm feelings by saying lots of nice things about each other, fueled by truly amazing amounts of wine. And the food is great. Even a vegetarian can find plenty to eat, at least until they bring out the barbeque skewers and pile them on top of the rest of the food.

Conversely, the formalized structure means that actual conversation is actively discouraged. Even if you spend 3 or 4 hours with someone (as at this particular supra), you don't actually get to know them at all.

 It is also the only social event I can think of, aside from the American fraternity party, where guests are heckled for not going "bottoms up" on their drinks when called upon. And we are not talking about dainty little wine glasses, but substantial tumblers full.

Unfortunately, as you may have noticed from the top picture, it is also an event where the men are seated at the table and the women do all of the preparation and cooking and serving. (In this case, the ladies dined on cold leftovers after the honored guests took off.)

It is also not the first time I have been considered enough of an honored guest to become, at least for an evening, seated at the table as an honorary man. This is probably in equal part due to my (uearned) American-ness and the fact that I would be useless in terms of preparing and serving a Georgian meal, so best to keep me far from the kitchen.

Perhaps it is no wonder that I left the event with a giant headache.