Not allowed

 No shoes and no cats allowed inside. Though you will take note that Thomas is photographed making himself at home at the kitchen table, so we know where leniency comes into play. (Hint: it is not in regards to shoes in the house.)

Quality control

 My work in Georgia this summer involves investigating agricultural tourism sites, such as wineries. (Tough job, I know!) I have visited several so far, and have been struck by the fact that while some are modern, impressive state-of-the-art facilities that could easily pass for Tuscan, others are decidedly more... primitive. The top photo features a 7.7 km wine cellar originally constructed as a Soviet military tunnel. The bottom picture is from a tasting I attended nearby that took place in the storage room, while workers nearby banged on tanks.

Modern Life

One of my favorite things about Georgia is how it almost feels like time-traveling to the 1950s. There are old Soviet cars, crusty old buildings, some crazy ideas about the roles of women...

But glassy buildings are sprouting up all over Tbilisi. Wifi seems much more widespread, I don't think the power or water have gone out a single time (yet), and while there were a few isolated McDonalds here three years ago, more and more international chains offer crappy American food.

I have mixed feelings about this. While I root for Georgia's development and economic prosperity, I would hate to see this city that I love so much shed its character and become just another row of strip malls.

Happy!

 If I were home, I would have baked an angel-food cake, Dad's favorite. But since I'm a ways away, I will just have to wish him a happy birthday in pictures. The cake, minus a big slice for us, belonged to the neighbors but spent the day before the party in our fridge because apparently theirs wasn't big enough, and while it was fluffy and delicious none of us in the household were quite sure it was worth the two somewhat sleepless nights brought to us by the party itself.

Happy birthday, Dad! Here's to cake, candles, holidays spent away from home, and a good night's sleep.

Weekend in Lagodekhi

One thing I love about travel is the completely random adventures that pop up if you stay open to them. For example, last weekend's trip to Lagodekhi with a trio of strangers who turned out to be fun companions with a loose travel style and taste for adventure.

 We drank beer in the park with random Georgian men (ok, they did--I knitted and zoned out to conversations I couldn't understand in Georgian and Russian). We got slightly overheated hiking to a waterfall, where it seemed like a good idea to get under the gushing water until we noticed the size of the rocks being chucked over the edge in the torent.

 We crossed some extremely sketchy bridges, including this one, which only went across half of the river. (We got wet, and that wasn't even the crossing where Billie accidentally threw her backpack into the current.)

And of course everywhere we went, we received typical Georgian hospitality, which included this interesting assortment of breakfast offerings: whole tomatoes, cream cheese, pickled flowers, a giant chunk of butter, and one bowl of frosted flakes and cocoa puffs, plus of course lots and lots of instant coffee.

Turtle Lake

I may have mentioned that I am staying again with the host family that I lived with when I came to Georgia before. Last time, we spent the time getting to know each other. This time, it's like a family reunion. Also, I have inadvertently provided a welcome diversion to sadness surrounding the recent death of Vachtang's mother. OK, and also I give everybody plenty to do in terms of feeding me and fixing things I accidentally break around the house. Ahem.

 As is often the case, having a guest in town has given the family an excuse to visit some places they rarely visit themselves. Friday night they took me up to Turtle Lake, which is high up on a hill overlooking the city--and ironically a stone's throw from my previous office, though I had no idea it was there last time I lived here.

We rented a pedal boat, strolled around the water, tried to pick our house out of the sprawl, and resisted the temptation to buy popcorn and cotton candy. It was an odd little three-person date, and it was lovely.

Walking

For the past few days I have been making the rounds of old friends and potential collaborators. Georgians are justifiably famous for their hospitality and it is only because I insist on walking everywhere possible (much to the ladies' chagrin) that I have not already popped from the ridiculous amounts of food being forced on me.

One bonus is coming across graffiti that perfectly captures my feelings while crossing in the sub-street tunnels. Another is having time to noodle around on the FM dial and having the pleasant, though surreal, experience of hearing part of Morning Edition at 3 pm.