Not so much

Mother Georgia, who welcomes you with the fun (a ball of wine in her left hand) or the fury (the sword in her right)

I know in my last post (in which I let some fury fly) I had promised to spend some of my layover time in the Prague airport on some long-awaited posts on areas outside of Georgia, but much like my Mingrelian friends, I was of course only conning you.

Actually what happened was I got into a conversation with some Georgian law students who were heading to Lithuania for a moot-court competition. They were all from Tbilisi, so they had an even higher sense of Georgian-superiority than most, but a few of them knew English quite well and we had a nice little talk, which of course included the mandatory question all Georgians ask foreigners, Do you like Georgian food?

All in all, it was a pretty pleasant talk. The only part that bothered me was one of the students, who when I tried to express my enthusiasm for his trip to Vilnius, the historical capitol of Lithuania, by saying, Lithuania? Cool, man!, he replied by saying very dryly with a small tint of arrogance, Lithuania is not cool... Georgia is cool. This is exactly the type of narrow mind frame that had me jones'n for a vacation.

I know not all Georgians think this way, but there are a ton that do... without ever having been anywhere else! That's so ridiculous and irrational. I don't mind thinking Georgia is amazing, because I share the same notion. It's unique, beautiful, and the people are incredibly hospitable. But saying it's better than another place without ever having been there is outrageously short-sighted.

Anyways, I wasn't really in the mood to type anything up, and considering I was on vacation in Krakow, I didn't really feel like doing anything productive there, either. All of which means that I now have three different places to catch up on (Vietnam, Armenia, and Poland). So please be patient, although apparently there are singing/dancing/sporting competitions the next few days in my district meaning meaning there is no class while I'll have plenty of time to take a bite out of that list.

As for Georgia, the week long vacation may have been just what I needed to come back with a fresh set of eyes. Krakow was amazing, but just within the few days I've been more appreciative and less bitchy (at least in an observational sense). And that's despite a drunken soldier spilling a liter of beer all over me on the night train back from Tbilisi on Monday night (although to be fair, he did offer me some of it beforehand).

Sweet... Sweet Shuki

Easily on of my favorite pictures I've taken in Georgia

Recently I started rereading Wendell Steavenson’s Stories I Stole, which is a personal account of the two years Steavenson spent living in Georgia from 1999 to 2001. If you go all the way back to the point where I reignited the blog and switched the focus from Pittsburgh Sports to my travels in Georgia, I mention Steavenson’s book as possible reading material for those unfamiliar with Georgia.

I remember reading Stories I Stole the first time and thinking, what am I getting myself into? I was halfway through the book before I even left the States (the second half of the book drifts away from Georgia and focuses more on her personal struggle and relationship with a German photographer), and though I had read other content telling me the country was in much better shape since the Rose Revolution, I was still a little startled at how bleak a picture Steavenson painted in her stories.

This is from my recent hunting experience in Martvili

Some of the aspects of Georgian culture she reflects on have stood the test of a decade and still hold true today, including this very prescient passage regarding the drinking culture of toasting, tamada, and suphras:

It was a kind of aggression. When they did not know you well, they filled your glass and filled it again and carefully watched how you drank it. This was their measure of you; this was done to disarm you… The quantities, however, were still very large and could provoke either love or violence. This was the Georgian way, friend or enemy with nothing in between. History was lost in tradition, drinking a way of remembering and forgetting at the same time. (pg. 10, Stories I Stole)

That was the good stuff that I was looking forward to. The more alarming characteristic was laid out in the next 18-pages in a chapter entitle Shuki. Now, all Georgians and anybody else who has spent significant time in Georgia understand what shuki means—power (actually, literally, it means light, but that's neither here nor there). And I’m not talking about Saakashvili power, I’m talking about the type of power that keeps the lights on, the hot water flowing, and space heater pumping… electricity.

These are the mountains of Samegrelo, quite stunning on a clear day

In Steavenson’s stories, she describes a sort of third-world Tbilisi in which you might get an hour of shuki in the morning and an hour at night. A Tbilisi where only 20% of the residents would pay their power bills, while a majority of those who didn’t would just bribe an official to reset the meter (including Steavenson herself). A Tbilisi where candles gave you light and tchatcha gave you warmth.

But that was ten years ago (the back of my head says, 2001 was ten years ago? Jeebus, am I getting old), so it didn’t surprise me all that much when I got to Georgia and didn’t experience any of the shuki problems Steavenson so excellently described in her writing. Every couple days the power might go out for a few hours, but it was never for all that long and never caused that big of a problem (the main reason for blackouts was weather [rain, snow, wind], although sometimes there was no rhyme or reason to the sudden darkness). When it did hinder a deadline or a teaching priority, at first it was problematic, but like all other inconveniences in Georgia, you just adapt and get used to it—roll with it as my Dad says.

The landmarks of Tbilisi seen at dusk

Now, I live in a village of Samegrelo, so I’m sure that some people have it better than me especially Tbilisi, but also including even those who live in the towns and cities of West Georgia (except for Guria, nobody cares about Guria). Hell, even Martvili, which is ten kilometers farther away from the main power grid, would have shuki while I was reading by candlelight in Bandza. Nevertheless, I think I have it pretty good; some of my fellow TLGers were and are much worse off (like my friends in Guria, where they might go multiple days without shuki despite immaculate weather).

It’s almost a contest between teachers to see who has it the worst. Well, I have to walk a kilometer to use the communal out-house, or I’ve only eaten bread for the past week, or the always pleasant, You don’t even want to know how long it’s been since I showered. But usually it always comes back to shuki, and when it does, it’s always a score of hours or sometimes days, You had power for three hours yesterday? I would kill for that.

The nicest building in Bandza; our Police Station

Well last week, I think the shuki issue tested almost everyone’s patience. There were unbelievably strong windstorms (at times, I found myself running at a standstill during my Friday jog) throughout West Georgia starting last Wednesday, which continued until Sunday morning. Thus, power was cut in and out throughout the region for the past week (they are still getting things together).

This is probably the worst I have had it since I got here, which really isn’t that bad compared to some (as mentioned, Guria has it rough) and definitely nothing compared to how it was ten years ago; but it does make you realize how lucky you are when you do have power. For me, it really doesn’t matter as long as my Kindle is charged up and I have candles, coffee, and matches. But it is problematic in regards to blogging, email correspondence (a vital cog in my existence), and teaching related tasks (worksheets, lesson planning, and TLG required reports).

So when you haven’t had power for a few days, you get a little antsy: I really want to listen to the new Radiohead album; I would give anything just to check my email; Can I not have to tutor Rezi and Luka under candlelight? So as I sit around and realize I’ve spent the past six hours reading The Odyssey, I might get a little down on myself and the situation. But then! Something flickers, the light on my electronic regulator turns green, and the magic of shuki lifts my spirits like a long awaited text message from a deep crush.

The road from Bandza to Martvili; avoid the cows...

People love to use the phrase you never appreciate what you’ve got until it’s no longer there. Usually this is in reference to a relationship or a recent breakup, but it can easily fit for how we in Georgia think about that sweet, sweet shuki. This afternoon, after I got home from school, there was again no power; so I ate, read a little, and then decided to go on a run, during which I conjured up some thoughts for this very post. But when I got back to the farm, I came to the realization that those thoughts would have to be put on the backburner as my laptop was out of juice and there was most likely ara shuki (no power). But when I opened the door to my room and saw that all-important green light glowing on my e-protector, I almost did a Tiger Woods fist-pump. And now I’m writing this all before the fortune of shuki turns it’s back against me and all is dark again.

There was one line that came from one of Steavenson’s Georgian friends named Kakha that really encapsulated what shuki means to anybody who has lived in Georgia, “In England, you have electricity. But you do not have the happiness that comes when the electricity comes!”

My host-father Lasha loves to curse the President’s name when the power is out. When he sees me, he looks at me incredulously, points at a nearby lighting fixture, and utters, “Oh… ah… Saakashvili… stupid.” (Like all other Georgians, Lasha might not know the English word for smart, but he definitely know the English for sureli [stupid]). I just laugh rather than try to argue with him on how ridiculous it is to blame the President for a power-outage. But my favorite Gabunia shuki tradition comes from Luka. Whenever we are sitting in the small house trying to stay warm while reading under shared candlelight, and the power abruptly comes back on, Luka will clasp his hands together, look to the lights hanging from the ceiling, and say in English, Thank you, Misha! Gets me every time.

I guess on the Gabunia farm, Misha giveth shuki and Misha taketh away.

Beautiful nature and harsh reality, staples of rural Georgia

Tbilisi: Gentrification, Beach Courting, & Turkish Baths

The first thing I see when I get off the marshrutka in Bandza, droghebi (cows). I knew I was home...

Due to power outages and a busy schedule (start of school, birthday, pregnant cow), I wasn’t able to really tackle my Tbilisi trip in the way I wanted, plus I have some thoughts churning up that do not involve Tbilisi, so I’ll try to sum up the leftovers on the capital in these next ten points. The lesson is to never let things sit, although I’m sure it won’t be the last time I make it to Tbilisi  while over here.

Tertmet’i – Across from Old Tbilisi and up the slope of the hill, there’s quite the gentrification going on. It actually starts in Old Tbilisi, where the pedestrian walkway area leads to a brand new pedestrian bridge that crosses over the river. They still haven’t finished the entire bridge as it’s quartered off from the other side that leads to a yet-to-be finished park, but what is done is quite the spectacle. The entire bridge is made up of glass, and at night it’s glowing with lights that are built into the glass. More amazingly, the lights operate only when someone is on the bridge. The closer you get to the rail, the brighter that part of the bridge gets. For a country that is full of people living on the poverty line, it’s quite the lavish expenditure. Which isn’t to say that it’s not money well spent; it’s a really nice pedestrian bridge and is gorgeous at night silhouetting off the river. But I’m just sayin’…

Nicest pedestrian bridge this side of Venice

Tormet’i - Probably an even worse offense is the Presidential Palace (pictured below), which, granted I know little about (like if it was built by Saakashvili or the previous president), sits atop the hill above the new pedestrian bridge and is an absolute monstrosity. The best way to describe it is if someone with zero class won the lottery and decided to build a house that they considered “real nice.” It’s got these ridiculous columns on the face of it (which looks over the center of the city) and then an even more ridiculous glass dome at the top. It looks like something out of a bad future sci-fi movie (think Starship Troopers, inter-galactic congress type of building). I know the Georgian people and politicians want to have a nice building where they can host foreign dignitaries, but I could think of a million better ways of going about it.

That does not belong...

Tsamet’i – Like not building it in the middle of a slum. I mentioned earlier how Tbilisi, despite it being a fairly 21^st-century city, is still full of shack-like homes and rundown housing. One day, we walked up towards the Presidential Palace and after being told not to take pictures of the foreign embassies (a fair request), we came up to the Palace, which was heavily guarded but not that far off the street. Right across was a house that looked like it was one crow’s nest away from falling down. This wasn’t exactly Pennsylvania Avenue  to say the least. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but if it tells us anything, it’s that the government tore down tons of those types of tenements just to build the Palace in the first place. Who knows what will happen to the remaining slums, but I don’t foresee a happy ending. There was already someone building a fairly posh looking residence up the street; all that needed to open were a yoga studio and an artesian bread shop and you have Williamsburg, Brooklyn all over again (and they didn’t even have the spur of a Presidential Palace; just a few white people with a superiority complex).

That's more like it...

Totkhmet’i – Right up the street from the palace is the fairly new Georgian Orthodox Church and headquarters (it’s only ten years old). Now this makes sense. The church isn’t absurdly large (in fact, none of the Georgian Orthodox churches are big, something I’ll tackle at a different date), but sits in the middle of a gated and well-tended property. It’s tastefully done and well put together, the type of project that should have been emulated when thinking about a residence for the country’s most powerful person. I digress, but in a country filled with beautiful old buildings dotting the countryside, it’s weird that they could get it right with a church, but so wrong with a government building. Well, maybe it’s not that weird.

Tkhutmet’i – I said I’d get back to the Metro but there’s not much to say. It’s extremely easy to follow with just one main line (and another that we never used that makes it’s way up into the nicer suburbs south of the city) while also very affordable at just 40 tetri (24 cents) per ride. It’s a much easier way to get around than by bus or marshrutka. Unfortunately, I have no crazy stories about a man that refused to give up his seat. One thing that did stand out were the beggars on the Metro and how much business they received (business in terms of money, not business in my terms). Everybody gave them change, except for us volunteers. We have zero patience for Gypsy beggars.

Public art in honor of the Rose Revolution inside the Metro

Teqvsmet’i – Bill was the most vehemently disgusted with Gypsies. One ruined his water by sticking their finger in the spout after being denied one of Bill’s new pears, while two other gypsies latched onto him for no apparent reason and gave him a “Gypsy Rash” on his arm that has yet to go away. Then while we were playing chess in the park, a little girl who was swimming in the fountain came over to us and started yapping at me in Georgian. I tried to communicate to her that I didn’t understand, and finally she got fed up and wandered off. Bill thought she wanted money and when I asked why, he said she was a Gypsy. “How did you know?” I asked. “She had dirty feet,” Bill replied. I hadn’t noticed, but apparently that’s a dead-giveaway. I have much to learn.

These aren't Gypsies, but the couple who sang Georgian folk songs at the cafe I wrote about in the last post; couldn't leave them out

Chvidmet’i – Probably my favorite part about Tbilisi were the public parks. Having grown up in Pittsburgh and lived in Charleston, SC for a few years, I really appreciate a good public space, weather it’s a park, pedestrian walkway, or just a small fountain at an intersection (like Savannah, which has awesome public spaces). Tbilisi has heaps of parks and fountains that make the city both extremely livable and enjoyable. My favorite park ran down from Rustaveli Avenue  to the river and a bridge that held a daily out-door bazaar. Being in Bandza makes me miss just walking to a park, sitting on a bench, and people watching (or as some like to call it, stalking).

Me looking up to the statue that stands in the front of my favorite park in Tbilisi

Trvamet’i – Tbilisi has everything, even it’s own Sea! Well, actually it’s a reservoir, but it’s called the Tbilisi Sea. A few of us went up there one of the days (missing the wedding in the process; bad friends we are) and got to see a fairly odd courting session. As I’ve mentioned, sexual relations in this country are highly suppressed and complicated. But the pressure put on women to remain chaste has one resounding effect: some of the men go insane after a certain point, and will do anything just for the scent of a woman (there’s a whole other post in here about how Georgian men treat and act towards foreign [specifically American] women). At the reservoir, this Georgian guy, probably about my age, hops in the water, gets out, and then sits five feet away from a group of three girls; all of this being about ten feet away from us (meanwhile, his clothes are on the opposite side of where we are sitting, making it all the more weird). As he lies facedown on the beach, he hums/sings some Georgian song while slowly but surely edging closer and closer to the girls. Eventually he edges a part of his body onto one of the girls’ towels, which only causes them to get up and resituate. But there were zero communicative objections so the guy just continues to creep closer and closer. We were somewhat concerned, but when we caught the look of one of the girls, she just animated that he was harmless if not a bit crazy. The whole thing was odd; is this how men pick up girls in Georgia? All we knew was that if you tried that at Folly Beach, you would have the cops called on you for some mixture of harassment and assault. I’m not doing the whole situation justice, but it was one of the weirder interactions I’ve seen since getting here.

Sketchy Georgian creeping on some unsuspecting ladies at the Tbilisi Sea

Tskhramet’i – One of the last days while in Tbilisi, a group of us went to the dabanas (Turkish Baths) and got a scrub and massage. The girls and guys each got our own personal rooms, which meant that Bill, Raughley (lives in Tbilisi and knows Russian, a good guy to have around), and German Paul (only one of our group who was stationed in Batumi; highly hilarious if only for his German accent and laid-back seriousness) all got naked and sat in our personal bath/sauna (which we only lasted about 15 minutes in before having to get out and cool off). Needless to say, we all know each a whole lot better now than we did a few weeks ago. Once you’ve hung out with a buddy naked for an hour in a foreign country, you’ve officially gone from friends to good friends… and there’s no going back either. Eventually, this old wrinkly guy comes in wearing some sort of Speedo bathing suit and lays us down on this marble slab while scrubbing off all our dead skin (both sides) for five minutes. Then he gives you a five-minute massage (or cleaning) with soap, after which you soak in the tub for another ten minutes. It was the best 40 Lari ($24) I’ve ever spent. I felt five years younger when I got out of there. Thank God I don’t live in Tbilisi, because I would go broke from frequenting the baths. If anybody comes to visit, straight from the airport we’re going to take a shvitz (that’s actually a Yiddish word for sweat that my friends know me to use for shower).

Paul, Bill, and Raughley moments after our scrub down and massage, looking like a million bucs

Otsi – Bonnie M. How did it take me so long to get back to their sweet, sweet sound. I’m sure no one really cares by this point (and if you did, you clicked on the link from the last post and read all you needed to know about this German Disco group made up of Caribbean dancers/singers). When we were in Zugdidi a while back, Bill kept on noticing the odd music that played on the marshrutkas; it was in English, but we had never heard it before. Who is this band that has all of these hits in Georgia (and if it’s a hit in Georgia, it’s probably a hit in Russia and the surrounding regions) but we’ve never heard of? The one song we kept hearing in particular had the refrain of, “Ra, Ra, Rasputin. Lover of the Russian Queen.” Before we even had to Google it, the Bonie M. DVD came on outside that café in Old Tbilisi and played Ra, Ra, Rasputin along with other hits such as Daddy Cool and Rivers of Babylon. We were both stunned and in awe of their musical genius. What topped it all off was at the beginning of every song, German Paul saying, “Yeah, I know this song, too.” F’n Germans.

As promised, a picture of me with the crazy guy outside of the Beatles Club

Tbilisi: Catwalk from Hell, Old Tbilisi, & the Touristy Irish Pub District

Staring up at the statue in Freedom Square. It used to be a statue of Lenin, but they tore it down in '91 and put up a badass depiction of St. George atop a horse killing a dragon with a triton

So enough of that morbid shit. Back to Tbilisi, and I’ll try to avoid a day-by-day summary of what went down.

Tertmet’i – When you’re in Tbilisi, you kind of forget you’re in Georgia. They have real coffee, bars with wi-fi, several McDonalds, a Metro (which I’ll get to later), and no farm animals roaming the streets. Out of the 4 million plus people who live in Georgia, over a third of them live in Tbilisi, and I see why (not because of the McDonalds, but other reasons).

Tormet’i – Tbilisi reminds me of Pittsburgh  just a little bit geography wise. There’s a river that snakes it way through the city from East to West, but it’s not in the middle of a valley. Both sides of the river slope upwards to the hills that boarder the area. There’s very little flat land (actually less than Pittsburgh  probably) and if you get off the main streets, you can find yourself making a pretty big hike uphill. The elevation change also lends itself to some pretty impressive views.

City Hall at Freedom Square

Tsamet’i – I don’t want to give off the impression that Tbilisi is some oasis of splendor, because it’s not. Once you get out of the Old Tbilisi, Rustaveli Avenue, and Avlabari, the town is filled with what we saw in Kutaisi: old soviet tenement buildings and past it’s due date infrastructure. The apartment that Bill and I rented was in Didube, an area Northwest of city center, and was fantastic for us, but definitely a little sketchy. To get there you had to hop on the Metro and get off at the Elektrodepo stop (one of the only stops on the Metro above ground), walk out of the Metro building and to the opposite side only to go back up steps onto this catwalk, which goes over the rail yard for about half of a kilometer. The catwalk was made out of concrete and was littered with cracks the size of skateboards. There was also zero lighting at night, and beneath the catwalk were tons of stray dogs just waiting for a victim to fall over so they can ravish the corpse (well, maybe not, but that’s what it seemed like).

Bill's and my apartment building, quite the palace

Totkhmet’i – But as I said earlier, parts of the city were really quite nice… almost too nice. Old Tbilisi was my favorite area as it was filled with old churches (including a synagogue and mosque), the streets were cobbled and narrow, and there was a really nice pedestrian walkway that cut along the river with tons of cafes and bars scattered about. It was a little pricey (comparatively speaking) but I think it was money well spent to get a good drink and a refreshing atmosphere. Although Bill and I were both bummed that we couldn’t go to Vault, a nightclub along the pedestrian walkway whose door was just a giant bank vault. We’re pretty sure that instead of having your name on the list, you just have a combination code to get in. Very Euro.

The Catwalk from Hell; or it's literal translation in Georgian, Place of Rape.

Tkhutmet’i – Rustaveli Avenue was also quite classy. The nicest part runs from the concert hall at the top of the hill down to Tavisufleba Square (better known as Freedom Square). There are tons of upscale shops (Zegna, Dior, etc.), fancy hotels, and some of the more important buildings in the city (Ministry of Justice, City Hall, etc.). Though it has a wide and comfortable sidewalk to stroll along, I still prefer the Old Tbilisi area, as it’s more authentic and filled with less douchers (not including Vault).

Ministry of Justice, say what? Little shout out for my Moms

Teqvsimet’i – The touristy Irish Pub district was about three blocks long and only one block off of Rustaveli towards the concert hall and Metro stop. The group tended to migrate there each night, which wasn’t exactly what I was looking for on my trip. I went to Florence to go to Irish Pubs (not actually, but that’s what it felt like), and I think I had my fill while there. But we did find a pretty neat locally owned café along the strip (quite out of place now that I think of it), which was filled with art from the owner (even the menus were done by him). The one night we were there, an older group of Georgians were sitting at a table near the piano, and the of the men would play a song every few minutes (he was an excellent piano player) while the lady in the group would sing in Georgian. What made it memorable was how they would stare at each other during the performance, it was intense but exactly what some of us were looking for, rather than Buffalo Bill’s Saloon (yes, there actually was a bar right across the street with that name, pictured below). I told the owner Sandro that I would send out the good word, so if you’re in Tbilisi, definitely frequent the N. Gallery on Akhvlediani Str. They’re actually on Facebook as well, if you’re into that sort of thing.

Bill in front of his bar; I've traveled 4000 miles to a small country in Eurasia, now where's the Goddamn saloon?

Tvramet’i – The Beatles Club was also up in that district, which was a European type dance club in the basement of a restaurant. At first they tried to charge us 10 Lari for cover, but then realized we were American and let us all in for free (oh, the perks of being American, even if they can only be found half-way across the world). We had a good time and many of the volunteers ended most of their nights there, as it was open until 4 a.m. My only recollection was on the first night, while waiting outside the club helping some of the girls get a cab, there was this crazy guy without a shirt on who kept on trying to lift me up (he was about half my size). All I know is that Marissa, a fellow volunteer, has a ton of pictures of me with my shirt unbuttoned trying to be picked up by this nut job like he was carrying a bride to a honeymoon suite. Now I have to blackmail Marissa with pictures of her being molested on the dance floor by Georgian men. We have an agreement. Side note: the girls complimented me on my ability to sense when a Georgian man was creeping on the dance-floor and quickly step in front to dance with the prospective victim. They used a term that I would rather not repeat, let’s just call it the gentleman in me, although I’m sure it’s a skill (or 6^th  sense) that I picked up Italy. Ultimatum: no matter where you go in Europe, there will be creepy men on the dance floors, although you could probably say the same for American “dance clubs.”

I didn't really know where to splice these pictures in, but I figured the Synagogue would fit between the creepy Georgian men and the only gay bar in Georgia. 

Tskhramet’i – The only other bar of note on that strip was the sole gay bar in all of Georgia. They are a few gay volunteers in our group, although the one lesbian amazingly already has a Georgian girlfriend whom she met in her small village (what are the odds?). One of the nights, most of the group decided to make a pilgrimage over there (we’re volunteers and we’re accepting of all walks of society; at least that’s what’s Stuff White People Like told us). I didn’t attend, but apparently there was no one in there, and after about 20 minutes, someone told them they should leave. So it’s official; the only impolite people in Georgia are the gays. Talk about backwards. Side note: please do not take that seriously.

This is a street that resembles Old Tbilisi (although I don't think it's actually in that neighborhood), but it's cobbled, narrow and snakes it's way up the hillside

Otsi – The last night in Tbilisi a group of us went to a café along the pedestrian walkway in Old Tbilisi. We picked the place because they were projecting a BB King concert DVD on a giant screen across the walkway; plus they made Irish Coffee Milkshakes. Unfortunately, right as we sat down, the DVD ended and they put in a different one. It was the best of Boney M. And just like that I will end this post as they end every episode of True Blood; overall it kind of sucked, but that cliffhanger makes me want more! As a teaser, I promise to include a photo of me, shirt unbuttoned, with the guy from outside the Beatles Club. Stay tuned...

View from the balcony of our apartment in Didube, Tbilisi

Tbilisi Part I: The Palace of Senaki, Night Trains, & Georgian Weddings

Before I start, the above picture is of my Babua Rezo, who I’ve praised previously. He gets up to work on the farm at 6:30 a.m., and after we eat at 9:30 or 10, he brings out a blanket and pillow and sleeps on this spring frame we have in the front yard until we eat again at around 3 p.m. I can’t say it enough, but this guy gets it.

So I got back from Tbilisi and amazingly have the same stomach problems that plagued me during my first week in Georgia. I don’t know if it’s the water (not drinking out of a well), or the lack of farm animals outside of Bandza, but anytime I leave the village, I get a little bit sick. Most likely it’s the sporadic food and the amount of alcohol I drink. But I like to think that maybe, just maybe, I’m homesick for Bandza.

But I digress. A lot went on in Tbilisi, and when I started this post, I knew it would only be part one of a series of Tbilisi posts. But I didn’t expect to barely get to my arrival in Tbilisi by the end of the post. If you hadn’t noticed before, I was using the Georgian numbers to space out the posts, but now that I have 1-10 down, I’ve gone on to 11-20. Enjoy.

Tertmet’i – So before I even get to Tbilisi or the trip there; let me first tell you about another volunteer’s (Jennifer Wood) host family. When most of the volunteers get together, we’re constantly complaining about how bad we have it; the only thing I can compare it to is when a bunch of service industry workers get done with their shifts and go to the bar; all they do is complain about their night (“You should have seen this one customer I had…”). That may not be the best comparison, because we actually like our jobs (well, most of us do), but more or less, we’re just comparing how ridiculous our host family situations are. We’re constantly trying to out-do each other (like right now I would tell them how my host brothers just asked me if I wanted to go help them slaughter a cow). Jennifer can’t say anything.

Jennifer's family's compound in Senaki

Tormet’i – Jennifer is in Senaki, which isn’t too far away from myself, and I know a few other people in that town; let’s just say that it’s not the Sewickley Heights of Samegrelo. But somehow Jennifer is staying with the Mellons of Senaki, at least comparatively speaking. In her house they have a billiards room, sauna, indoor pool, sixty-inch TV, several dining rooms, an air-conditioned living room, and a bathroom the size of most bedrooms with a whirlpool. It’s ridiculous. The family apparently has a wine-exporting business, but we’re all convinced that’s as legitimate as the Corleone’s having an olive oil company.

Tsamet’i – Needless to say, my buddy Bill and I hung out there until we had to take the one a.m. mat’erabeli (train) to Tbilisi from Senaki (I played pool and nardi with the neighborhood boys [the house was like the neighborhood clubhouse, people just coming in and out at any time] while Bill serenaded all the married women on the piano; a fact that he did not know at the time and was worried about later). The tickets were just 5 Lari each (approximately $3) and it was only scheduled for about 6 hours while we each got our own “bed”. We thought, “Well if we get drunk enough, we’ll fall asleep when we get on and before we know it, we’ll be in Tbilisi at 7 a.m. with a hangover.” All was going to plan until we got on the train. The immediate thought was, “They’re taking us to the death camps.”

I go from Death Camps to the cutest little girl in Senaki. Jennifer's host niece who is shown here dancing to Lady Gaga

Totkhmet’i – I haven’t taken many third-world trains, but how bad can it be? Right? Maybe it was just the people on the train, because when we got on everyone was comatose. This could have been because they had the same thought as us (let’s get drunk), but it probably meant that the only people who take the night train to Tbilisi on a Tuesday (and only ante up for third class tickets) are the poorest and most desperate… like Bill and I. The “beds” were sleeping cots stuck into any place that would fit, and were about five feet long. Bill and I are both over six feet, and we were holding onto our bags for dear life; no matter how drunk we got, it wasn’t comfortable (actually, scratch that, because Bill slept like a baby the entire trip).

Bill ready to pass out in his sleeping spot on the train

Tkhutmet’i – I would have probably been fine if it weren’t for the situation involving finding our bunks. Jennifer’s host-brother Uda tried to show us to our spots (her host-mother demanded that she drive us to the train station with Uda in her giant Suburban [another mafia dead-giveaway]), but he had to rush off the train when it started going with him still on it (when he jumped off, we must have been going at least 40 km/hr). The attendant ended up showing us to our bunks, which were both already taken. The lady in Bill’s spot got up without complaint, while the older guy in my cot was not happy that he had to relinquish his sleeping post.

Teqvsmet’i – But eventually he relented and got down. But after I got up to my bunk, all the change in my pocket fell out as I sat down. It trickled down to the bed below me, and the lady staying there gathered it and gave it back to me, which immediately set the old guy off. He demanded that some of the change was his, and when I told him ara, ara, ara, he persisted, just getting louder and more animated. So my options were to not budge and have this guy giving me the business the entire trip while probably trying to steal something from me as I fell asleep, or I could give him the few Lari in change that I had in order for him to leave me alone; obviously I chose the later. As Dennis once told Charlie in It’s Always Sunny, “There’s probably gonna’ be some dicks out there.” No matter how nice I’ve found the Georgian people, odds were I was going to run into a few crazy assholes.

Chvidmet’i – I was going to Tbilisi to see the city, because it’s like the New York City of Georgia, only if America were only filled with towns like Lancaster, Scranton, and Altoona. The only day we were in Tbilisi (the night we flew in) we didn’t even get to see anything. But there was another motivation and also the reason most of the volunteers were coming to Tbilisi. Two of our volunteers, Rob and Ashley, who are from Rhode Island and have been dating for quite some time, decided to get married. Basically it’s a Georgian wedding certificate that makes them legally married in Georgia (and only Georgia). There’s good reason for this, and I’m surprised it took me this long to bring it up, but it hasn’t pertained to me, yet. Basically, in Georgian culture, it is expected of the men to have a few sexual experiences before marriage, while the women are expected to be virgins. I know, talk about double standards; in fact, if you really want to know what it’s like and maybe have your mind blown, read Tolstoy’s short-story The Kreutzer Sonata; depressing, but spot on.

Bill next to the largest TV in Georgia, at least that's what we believe.

Tvramet’i – But I digress. The point is that unless you’re married, you aren’t expected to have any sexual relations with you’re partner, let alone allowed to share the same room. Now I know there are many families in the states that may have the same expectations, but there’s ways of skirting the rules in the States. Here, not so much. We had a question and answer session with some real Georgians during our orientation in Kutaisi during which the subject came up and it basically came down to, where do we go? They said, “Go to the woods.”

Tskhramet’i – So Rob and Ashley had quite the predicament on their hands: either sit by and meet in the woods every weekend, or get married and actually be able to visit each other and close their bedroom door. You can see why it only took them about two weeks to pull the trigger.

Train Station in Tbilisi

Otsi – Hence the mass exodus of English teaching volunteers from Samegrelo to Tbilisi (by the way, people in Georgia who know what the program is, call us Misha’s Teachers in reference to the presidential power behind the program). There were to be about forty of us, and Bill and I decided to get an apartment so we could have people over if we wanted while also maybe cook something. It cost a little bit more than the hostel (about 14 Lari [$8-9] a night), but I think we were both willing to splurge just for that privacy, given the fact that at home, we have little of it.

Will add pictures later... (UPDATE: Pictures have been added)