Thankful for this adventure, not so much for winter

As winter sets in, I find I am becoming more and more of a hermit.  I sit for hours with my laptop in the kitchen, yet I’m not sure what I accomplish except for reading up on the news, finding myself drawn into Spanish language soap operas, and keeping the cold at bay for another day.  Ostensibly I am working on grad school applications, but I find I get done less and less each day, as I start to worry more and more.  I’m hoping to have all of them finished by the time I come home in 4(!) weeks, so the panicking will likely increase.  While I am very excited to come home, Georgia also feels like home.  I’m pretty sure my host family convinced me this week to stay and celebrate my birthday here (July 17), if I reasonably can.  While sometimes they frustrate me, I really do like them a whole lot.  This is good, because we spend 10 hours or so in pretty much the same room every day.

 

I did not realize how much winter would impact the little aspects of life.  Our pipes now freeze at some point each night.  They don’t burst, but the water stops running and the toilet stops flushing.  They are fully prepared for this.  When I shower, I shower next to (not in) a bathtub full of water.  Now I appreciate this fact, as I can use the bathtub full of water to wash my face and brush my teeth at night and in the morning.  The TV has been moved to the kitchen, so I now am getting my fill of Georgian news and dubbed Telemundo soap operas.  Today they showed Obama pardoning the turkey and talked a little about Thanksgiving, so I felt like the holiday was not totally overlooked in my household.  We also heat our house by a wooden stove located in the kitchen, hence the fact that I spend so much time there.  The great thing about it is that we can put the kettle on the stove, and I can easily make myself tea whenever I want.  We also have clothes constantly hanging around the kitchen to dry, which I think saves us from all having incredibly dry, sore throats.  On that note, the cold that has plagued me since the beginning of the month won’t go away, but now my host mom and at least one sibling are sick. Granted, so are several of the kids in my school.  I think it is that time of year, but I still feel a bit guilty.

Another result of the cold is that we had a pile of logs deposited outside our house.  Several men chopped them up and then had a supra (Georgian dinner/party/drinking) with my host dad.  It was only the second time I had seen any of our homemade wine.  Since I was keeping warm in the kitchen, my host dad invited me to join.  I agreed, despite not being hungry.  What else could I say?  The tamada, the person who is in charge of toasting, quickly realized how much fun the game “try to get the foreigner drunk” is.  Thankfully, I have not had to play very much.  Still, even as a girl, I got called out for not drinking enough.  Interestingly enough, whenever he would finish his glass, he would roll it to show that it was empty.  I have not heard of others doing this, but I thought it was a pretty cool flourish.  I survived this supra, and my neighbor’s birthday, without making a complete fool of myself,  3 supras in a little over a week did satisfy my need for that cultural experience, so now I am happy to go back to my regular village experience of drinking copious amounts of tea and eating my bodyweight in sunflower seeds, potatoes, and bread.  At the neighbor’s supra, I could tell I missed eating lots of veggies when a dish with cauliflower in it got me excited.  I don’t really like cauliflower.  Of course, I have come to like pickled tomatoes because I know they have nutritional value.  (Mom, you’d be so proud, Georgia has gotten me to wear socks 24/7 and willingly eat tomatoes!)

In other news, I do actually teach sometimes.  Here are a few anecdotes from teaching:

• On Monday, I had to teach the 6^th graders alone since my co-teacher had to fill in for someone else.  They normally are pretty good, but they kept running out of class, causing problems, and, in my opinion, showing m no respect whatsoever.  I eventually got tired of it and told them in Russian I was not coming to class the next day.  Since I was pretty sure they preferred me as their teacher, this seemed like the best punishment I could give them.  I did not know if I actually had the power to do this, but I had no intention of letting that be an empty threat (then they would really run wild).  My co-teacher accepted my tales of their horrible behavior and did not make me go to class on Tuesday.  She told me today that they were very upset I was not in class and were actually good, so I think they will be better for me.

• On Tuesday, I had to teach alone because my other co-teacher had some family obligations.  When I told my 4^th graders this, they cheered.  I realized this was probably not a compliment but a warning.

• It takes me roughly 6 minutes to get to school, but I usually get there right on time or about a minute early or late.  Lately, my 5^th graders have been yelling “Hello” out their window to me when I walk into the schoolyard.  The great thing about this is I know that I’m not late then!

• Before I arrived at school, the kids were told to call me “Mrs. Hannah”.  As I cringe every time I hear it, I have been on a crusade to correct them to call me “Miss Hannah”.  I have pretty much succeeded, which is awesome, except I now hear “Miss Hannah” all the time, especially if my co-teacher is gone.

• Last week, some of my 6^th graders gave me drawings they had made for me.  At least one is supposed to be of me, although I have long, braided hair in the picture.  I felt flattered, even though I am 90% sure they made these drawings in class.

Outside of class, I do sometimes get out of my house.  Last weekend, some friends and I went to Davit Gareja, a cave monastery dating from the 6^th century.  It was about 2 hours outside of Tbilisi, on the border (literally on the border) with Azerbaijan.  We were a bit worried about how it would be going in November but it was a great time to go.  The weather was relatively warm, and we did not have to worry about vipers like you do in the summer.  There is basically nothing anywhere close to the monastery, which was actually wonderful.  Apparently the area was wooded until one of the various invading armies razed the area, so now it is barren wasteland.  It is beautiful barren wasteland, with some caves in the cliffs.   

Hiking to see them was good exercise, and the hidden frescoes were worth it.  Climbing to the top and getting a 360 view of the area was my favorite part.  The area had a calm about it that made all of us agree it was a good place to contemplate.  Had I not been starving, I probably would have sat and soaked in the atmosphere.

            Davit Gareja has somewhat of a sad history, though. A cave monastery was founded there by Davit (David) Gareja and some of his followers in the 6^th century. He is one of the 13 “Syrian fathers” that came at that time to encourage Christianity in Georgia.  Georgia had been officially Christian for quite some time, but there were still lots of pagan elements in Georgia, so these men came.  The monastery continued for centuries, with 14 others being built nearby.  However, the monasteries suffered through scores of invading armies.  The Soviets used the area, which was no longer a functioning monastery, as target practice since the landscape was similar to Afghanistan.  During perestroika, Georgians protested this, although strangely the Georgian army also used the area for exercises until protestors got in their way.  Now only one of the monasteries is working, but the area seems holy and peaceful nonetheless.

            Yesterday was Giorgoba, the celebration of St. George, Georgia’s patron saint.  In case you were wondering, people think that Georgia comes from the Greek word for farmer, not for St. George.  This is a big holiday in Georgia, so we did not have school.  My host dad is gone for a few days for work, so my family won’t celebrate in style until this weekend when he’s home.  Still, my host sisters and I went to the small church in Manglisi, since it is dedicated to St. George.  We lit a few candles, which my host grandma had made the night before, and left after a few minutes.  It was quick, but I liked the experience.  The church was small but full of glittering candles, the smell of beeswax, and a silent reverence.  We sat at home for the rest of the day, but we had sweets and homemade pirozhki.  A few neighbors came over as well, although that is a fairly regular occurrence.  Between sleeping in and taking it easy, I enjoyed my holiday and actually was ready for my alarm to go off today!

Happy Thanksgiving to all!  Georgia has made me very thankful for things I used to take for granted in America like constant hot water, heat, good roads, fruit and veggies available even out of season, regular power and water, gender equality, Mexican food, the independence afforded me as a 25-year old living on my own, being able to understand the news, peanut butter, high standards of personal hygiene, good bathrooms, classroom discipline, and being able to understand what is going on around me.  That said, being in Georgia has given me so much to be thankful for: a wonderful host family who has taken me in, colleagues who make me smile, kids shouting “hello” to me in the hallways, knowing in some way I’m making a difference, getting to spend my weekends trekking around one of the most beautiful countries in the world, great expat friends to go adventuring with, good Georgian food, a chance to experience how the other half of the world live, hot showers (absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?), any time I actually understand the Georgian around me, the hospitality and generosity of the Georgian people, the wonderful way not planning rewards you here, my Magtifix modem that keeps me connected to the outside world, and having a “job” that requires so little of me but gives me so many opportunities.

I am finally traveling to the arctic tundra of Ninotsminda this weekend to visit my Peace Corps friend, so more on that next time.  Hopefully I won’t have any horrible marshrutka stories to tell, but that’s probably not a wish that will come true.