How can so much happen in so few days?
I realize this is a very long post and may get boring in parts, so sorry if it does. Most of the interesting stories require a bit of explanation.
On Friday I woke up early and headed into Tbilisi.
TLG had a yearly meeting, which was mostly a big PR move talking about
all the program had done. However, it
was really interesting to see how in little more than a year, the program had
really started to make a difference in the country. Not only were kids starting to learn English,
teachers complaining about a lack of supplies (like good books) led to the
government purchasing brand new curriculum for grades 1-6 for this school year
from a Western publisher. Hopefully the
books will be as affordable as promised (I get the vibe students buy their own
books) and will really help. This also
means I should be teaching little kids, as they have the new books. Mostly I went to the meeting because it was
at the Courtyard Marriott and I wanted some good free food. With salsa and cheesecake among the choices,
I was very happy. I also got to meet up with some of my TLG friends and made a
few new ones. That night I met up with 5
of my friends from my training group and we boarded a midnight (well, almost
midnight) train to Batumi.
Much to my delight, the train was just like Russian trains,
and my friends were very pleased with my knowledge of post-Soviet trains, like
knowing there is a bottle opener under the table (thank you, Fulbright). Far too early, for it was only an 8 hour
ride, we arrived in Batumi. Batumi is the Black Sea resort party town, so we were quite excited
about our weekend. While I had organized
the trip for several of us coming from near Tbilisi,
the majority of people from my training group ended up in Batumi last weekend, so we had a great
reunion.
After taking a while to find our hostel and then move (of
course our hostel didn’t have our reservations but it worked out just fine), we
settled into our hostel and set out for some food. We wandered around in search of morning
coffee. Finally finding some, we wanted
a café with food (because the place where we got coffee was only serving
breakfast food for patrons of the adjoining hotel), which was difficult at
10:30 on a rainy Saturday. I think most
places there don’t open up until later because the town is still sleeping off
the night before. Starving, we found a
place serving beer. No, we didn’t start
drinking then, but found it was right next to a little bread stand. Not only did the old man making ‘tonis puri’
(Georgian kiln bread) let us come in and see him at work, he let us take
pictures (see my facebook pics). Then we
bought the hot, fresh bread and had a delightful breakfast. We met up with some other friends and I ran
into some Peace Corps people, including my friend Chris. If I haven’t yet mentioned how small Georgia, or at least the expat world of Georgia is, let
me do it now. It’s small. I know very few people here but regularly run
into someone I know in Tbilisi (or Batumi). After that, still battling drizzly weather,
my friends and I headed off to find a museum to while away some time. We spent a while in the art museum, which
offered an array of good and bad art.
After that, it looked like the rain had stopped, so we
headed to the Botanical Gardens. Of
course, it started raining again, or at least drizzling, but that made our
excursion seem like that much more of an adventure. There were not a lot of flowers, but there
were some cool trees, so our trek was still fun. The Botanical Gardens is also right on the
water, so we had some spectacular views.
After walking and walking, we paid for a ride on what was really a glorified,
elongated golf cart (probably supposed to be a tram). It had plastic around the sides so we were
finally dry and could take a break. We
got dropped off at the end and informed there was a seaside park nearby. Finally, I got to stick my feet in the
sea!!! Perhaps because it was wet and
cold outside, the water was quite warm, and I wished I had my bathing suit on
right there. Regardless, we had fun
putting our feet in. We eventually
headed out the exit, which was not the brightest idea since it led us to a road
that took quite a while to meet up with civilization. Once it finally did, we hailed a marshrutka
(public taxi van) back to Batumi
and found some delicious Turkish food to eat.
My friend Linda realized she had left her phone in our marshrutka. We called in vain but quickly gave it up as
lost. Right when we got back to our room
at the hostel, the marshrutka driver called from her phone. I raced down the 3 flights of steps to get
the Georgian girl at the front desk to talk to him, since he seemed to know no
Russian. We were directed to a bus
station where we could pick up her lost phone.
There were 2 next to each other, so I was not sure if I was at the right
one, so I was waiting to call the driver to get the phone until I was sure I
was at the right station. However, 4
foreigners looking confused definitely stand out, so without a phone call, our
marshrutka driver walked over with Linda’s phone. A bad situation was suddenly another display
of the kindness of the Georgian people.
We walked back through a market, in search of fresh figs. Unfortunately, the market seemed to cater
more toward the Home Depot crowd, with stall after stall of home building
goods. An interesting sight, but no
figs. The moral of this story is
actually that Georgia
is a very small country. We were about
to cross a street in this market when a car comes dangerously close to us. Out pops one of the girls from our group and
another TLGer. They had hitchhiked (safe
and common here) from their city and somehow found us when we couldn’t have
even explained where in Batumi
we were.
After a cold but still much-needed shower and a bit of food
and drink at the hostel, we were set to explore Batumi night life. Unfortunately, the first place we tried had
neither food nor wine. I can handle a
Georgian bar that doesn’t have food. But
no wine? Georgia is famous for its wine;
people have vats and vats of homemade wine (mostly in the 2 wine-making regions
but still, it’s everywhere). This was
hard to comprehend, especially since I like wine a lot. Some nice old Georgian tried to take us to
some other restaurant since we were guests in his city (as the Russian speaker,
I got to play translator, negotiate how to get out of staying at a restaurant
we didn’t want to be in without being ungracious), and headed to a bar
recommended by our hostel. My favorite
part about this bar, which was near a statue of Medea and the Golden Fleece,
was that it was near the Iranian consulate.
The best part was that there was a sign at the consulate of a room for
rent. We were so tempted, but did not
inquire. It would probably be bugged
anyway, right? The bar, while cheap by Western
standards, was expensive by our cheap Georgian tastes, so we left again.
Then, we stumbled upon the best find of our life: a café
that sold alcohol. It seemed so very
Soviet to me. There was a counter with
big plastic jars of various shades of wine, drinking glasses, a cooler full of
vodka, pickles, chips, and a cool limonadi (fruit-flavored soda) dispenser. I should have taken pictures. The woman who served us also seemed very
Soviet-she looked cold, unfriendly, and overworked, but she was also incredibly
nice to us. The sparsely decorated place
was empty except for a group of young Georgian men who were singing in
Georgian. After a few drinks, they came
over to talk and turned out to be much nicer than I expected. They wanted to take us to some ritzy club,
but instead we spent most of the night on the beach, briefly met up with the
rest of our group, and had a great night of talking, toasting, and drinking in
a park by the beach. (Alcohol will
probably feature more prominently in this blog than it ever did in my life in
the States because it is so much a part of life here in Georgia.) Georgians have ritualized their drinking, so
whenever you want to drink your wine, you must make a toast. It was fun practice for all of us (I spoke in
Russian, but a few of the guys spoke in Georgian), and we are already feeling adjusted
to the culture enough that we feel guilty just sipping our wine sans
toasts. (You don’t toast with beer, or
if you do, it’s an ironic toast, like to your enemies). One of the Georgians, who had excellent Russian
and afforded me a great night of Russian practice, explained the reasons Georgians
toast. Georgia is a fairly religious
country full of Orthodox believers.
Lighting a candle and praying is a huge part of their religion. They also take their drinking seriously, so
their drink is like a candle and their toast is like a prayer.
Sunday was sunny and warm so we finally headed to enjoy the
beach. I had heard that Batumi was overcrowded (now that it is
September it isn’t a huge deal but still wanted to heed the advice I had
heard), so we headed a little farther down the coast to Sarpi, which was
supposed to have a better beach. It was
still a pebble beach (all of Georgia’s
beaches are) but clean and not too crowded.
The best part by far was that it was right at the border with Turkey. One of my friends suggested swimming to a buoy
that marked the border out in the water.
This, of course, sounded like a good idea to me, so my years of swimming
came in handy as we headed out to the buoy.
That’s when the guards rushed out and brandished their guns at the
foreign interlopers. No, not
exactly. Nothing happened. No yelling, no guards, no guns, just some
pleasant swimming. Swimming did feel so
good, even if the water was not as warm as I remembered from the day before and
it has been years since I had swum so much.
We all enjoyed the water and sun as well as the tasty treats people
hawked on the beach. Like good
Georgians, we sat and ate sunflower seeds (you can’t help but eat handfuls at a
time) and also had some delicious baklava as well as some grape fruit leather
thing. After a few hours, we headed back
into the city for some food. I went with a friend on an unsuccessful venture to
get him a train ticket (the train was sold out) but we found him a bus and
finally found fresh figs! With our few
remaining hours, we headed back to the delightful hole-in-the-wall of a café
from the night before. Amongst other
things, we toasted and remembered 9/11.
Since almost half my group wasn’t American and we were sitting in a
Georgian café, it was a very interesting way to remember those who had suffered
and sacrificed.
My host family, who had been vacationing nearby, texted me
that night to check in. They then told
me they were in Batumi. To an American, this means that we should
meet. When I tried to arrange that, in
hopes of introducing my family to my friends, I found out that they were
heading back to the town they were vacationing in. I was slightly frustrated but also learned a
cultural lesson. Georgians will text to
ask ‘where are you?’ as a way of saying ‘I am thinking of you.’ That made the exchange make so much more
sense, so I headed off to the train station without guilt. We were all very tired and all slept soooo
well on the train that night, although not enough. In the morning we headed our separate
ways. I came home, showered, and
crashed. It’s been quite a while since I
felt so exhausted.
I also had really enjoyed my weekend, so coming home to my
host grandma and her sisters was a bit of a readjustment. I was disappointed to find out my host
grandma didn’t understand the washer either so I would have to wait to get some
laundry done (which always seems to be a pain).
Not quite ready to go back to being the only foreigner around and not
really relishing another day of doing nothing, I spent yesterday visiting a friend
in Mtskheta. Mtskheta is the old capital
of Georgia
and the spiritual heart of the country.
Mostly, Mtskheta has several beautiful old churches, which we visited,
as well as an old fort. I got to see his
host family’s nice house (Mtskheta is clearly a bit nicer than Manglisi-it’s a
“city” of 19,000 that even has a tourist center) but did not get to meet his
host family since no one was home. Since
we always swap host family stories, I was a bit disappointed, but I suppose I
have a year to remedy that. The main
draw of Mtskheta is the cross church (Jvari), so we saved it for last. Either right before or right after St. Nino
converted King Mirian to Christianity in 327, she made a cross on a mountain
near the city. That cross soon became a
church and monastery- Jvari. Most people
take a taxi since it sits on the top of a hill/mountain, but we decided to hike
it, which made getting to the top that much more of an accomplishment. The church is very cool. Georgian Orthodox churches are not as similar
to Russian ones as I would have expected.
The icons and murals are different, and I really wish I could understand
the symbolism in them more. Some of the
icons look ancient while others are brand new.
While visiting one of the churches, I finally got a call
from TLG saying that tomorrow I have a meeting about school. Since tomorrow is the first day of school, I
am happy to hear I’ll actually be teaching soon. I also got a call from one of my future
co-teachers. It looks like I’m moving to
the village of Tsintsqaro (of course I have to move to a place I can’t
pronounce right since the q/k sound is one I can’t really do right). I am waiting to hear about my new host
family/when I am moving. Still, school
is getting closer and closer!
