Help Me Buy New Chalkboards!

Tsinandali Village School (where I teach now) and Telavi School 6 (where I taught last semester) are both fairly typical of Georgian public schools.  The buildings were constructed while Georgia was still part of the Soviet Union and have not been renovated since.  Windows have broken or missing panes, so rain and snow blow into the classrooms with the cold air.  The only sources of heat in any of the rooms are small, wood-burning stoves that fill the air with smoke and soot but not much warmth.  Students and teachers alike have to wear coats and hats during class all winter.   Floors are made of planks that are very uneven where they are not missing altogether, making walking around the classrooms a rather hazardous endeavor.

This is Telavi School 6

However, everyone manages to work around all of this and go on about the business of learning despite frozen fingers and tripping.  The chalkboards are another matter entirely.  Even the newly installed boards are made of the cheapest material available, so only the students in the first few rows can see what the teachers write.  Several of the classrooms have chalkboards that are so old, worn, and pitted that they are simply unusable.  Anything written on them is completely illegible, causing students to copy down incorrect information during their lessons.  In Grade 1, I just have to bring in paper and markers to use in place of the board that does not show chalk at all.

I can't renovate the floors or replace the heating systems, but I can work to buy these schools new chalkboards.  I need your help, though.  New chalkboards cost about 100 lari, which is about 80$ US.  If you can, please click on the link below and help me with whatever you think appropriate.  My goal is to raise enough money to  replace the five chalkboards that are the worst in these two schools by the end of the year on 14th June.  Any help you can give is greatly and sincerely appreciated!



                                                              

Daylene's New Family

Daylene recently went to live with a new host family, just outside of Kutaisi.  They were very keen to meet her friends and play host to other English teachers, so they she invited me to come out to Imereti for a visit.  She now lives in Akhasopeli, just outside of Kutaisi. 

I had intended to leave Telavi early on Friday morning, but circumstances conspired against me.  As it turned out, I made it to Tbilisi just barely in time to go to the USA2Georgia office to pick up the package from my mother.  Public transportation in Georgia tends to stop completely around 5 in the afternoon, so I really had to hustle to Didube in order to catch the last marshrutka to Kutaisi. 

After wandering around the lot for a while trying to read the correct dash sign, I finally found a marshrutka to Batumi, which would pass through Kutaisi and Akhasopeli.  At her insistence, I called Daylene’s new host mother and put her on the phone with the driver.  After a very excited conversation, of which I could hear only half and understand considerably less, the driver assured me that he knew exactly where I was going and that he would drop me off exactly where I should be.

The entire four hour ride to Akhasopeli was punctuated by increasingly frantic text messages and half understood conversations with several members of Daylene’s host family.   Apparently, they were excited that I was coming to visit and worried that I wouldn’t find the village.  Finally, I settled for texting Daylene the name of every little village and town as we passed the signs. 

When I finally arrived at the village (really a don’t blink or you might miss it kind of a place) Daylene’s host family was eagerly waiting to drive me the two minutes further down the road to their house… where there was a supra.  Of course.  This is Georgia, after all.  In honour of the two Americans, they had proudly made pizza!  With no cheese, extra mayonnaise, and some kind of spicy pepper sauce instead of tomato sauce.  Just like home!

The grandparents in Daylene’s new house switch back and forth between Russian and Georgian with no real rhyme or reason.  I tried to keep up with the grandfather’s conversation, but it turns out that I’ve forgotten almost all of my Russian.  Every time I tried to say something in Russian, Georgian would come out instead.  It’s like the Georgian has shoved the Russian out my ears to make room for itself. 

This is Babua

And this is Bebia.  With Daylene

Even though we had spoken on the phone just about every night since she came back to Georgia, we still felt the need to stay up half the night catching up. 

Breakfast was yet another supra because Daylene’s host family is very Georgian.  After breakfast, we caught the marshrutka into Kutaisi, but not before being loaded down with snacks by Daylene’s host mother who runs a small shop just beside the main road. 

Several other TLG teachers in the area had made plans to meet at the McDonald’s in Kutaisi, and we ran into them there.  Some of the members of the very last group to arrive in Georgia, in October.  And John was there, whom I had met all the way back at the Istanbul airport, all those months ago.  We all compared host family situations and swapped teaching disaster stories for a while before splitting off in our separate directions. 

I don't know who this is, but they decided to build a statue to him!

Daylene and I hopped a bus to the city centre, where we were trapped for a bit in the middle of a traffic circle by a wedding party going round and round and honking.  We wandered about and took in the sights.  Naturally, we got lost for a bit, but we found our way back without too much trouble. 

We were stranded on this island.  At least the company was ...  shiny

When we got back to the village, we were greeted by – wait for it – another supra!   This time at the neighbour’s house.  More pizza, with herb salad, khatchapuri, lobiani, and strawberry compote.  Not all on the same plate, though. 

In order to catch the last marshrutka to Telavi, I had to be back in Tbilisi in late afternoon, which meant I had to leave Akhasopeli pretty early.  First, I was of course loaded down with food once again by Nino.  the marshrutka I happened to catch was driven by a former rum runner.  Or maybe he was a frustrated finalist for the Grand Prix.  Perhaps before retiring he’d been an competitive downhill skier.  Whatever he was, the man drove like an absolute demon and I had to be very careful not to pay attention to the road for most of the ride. 

The scenery was nice, and I got to see a really interesting cross-section of Georgia.  Even though this country is so small, it seems to have every possible climate within its borders.  Through the course of the ride to Tbilisi, we drove through fog, sun, snow, rain, sleet, and high winds.  Gradually, the first signs of spring that were poking up in Imereti disappeared as we went further inland. 

In Akhasopeli, the forsythia was blooming and there were buds on the trees.  I had only needed to wear two pairs of trousers and one pair of socks.  Everything was green and wet, with water in the riverbeds and new grass growing everywhere.  In Telavi, it’s very clearly still winter.  Ice on the mud and snow on the mountains.  The riverbeds are almost completely dry, and there are still piles of snow and slush everywhere.  

This is the view from Daylene's house

And this is the view from my house

Still, if it’s spring already only a few kilometres away, then spring can’t be too far behind in Kakheti!

The Hidden Dangers of Running in Georgia

In a country where exercise is a completely foreign concept, I was surprised and delighted to find a running buddy.  Lika and I run together a few times a week at the old, deserted Telavi football stadium in the evenings.  Usually, we have no trouble getting in or out as the gates are left open pretty late.  Monday, however, was a slightly different story. 

European football, not American

We got in just fine and ran our laps just fine and even stretched just fine.  Then… the gates were locked.  When we went to leave, we found that the way was shut.  You see, the dead had made it and the dead would keep it and… no, that’s the wrong story. 

But the gates were quite visibly shut and locked.  And the fence is pretty high.  And pointy on top.  We walked around and tried the other gate, only to find it in precisely the same condition.  This was a situation but not yet a problem. 

These benches are designed by top chiropractors to provide maximum lumbar support.

Next to the field is a very large derelict building that used to be either apartments or flats.  At the moment, it’s blown out windows and collapsing walls.  There was, however, a light on in one of the rooms on the second floor.  Lika suggested that whoever was in there might have been the one to lock the gates.  We should go in and find this person.   In the derelict, crumbling, mostly abandoned building far away from anything else in town late in the evening.  Good plan.  Courage screwed to the appropriate sticking place and loins properly girded up, we ventured in.

Looks promising, right?

Every movie with a scene wherein the hero (or heroine) goes in search of something in the abandoned Soviet building ends badly.  I was quite certain that every shadow was hiding a crazed axe murderer, a psychotic KGB holdover, and a horde of radiation zombies.  No one answered our shouts, but we could hear voices from upstairs.  Naturally, we went up. 

That's right.  Let's go further down this rabbit hole.

The hallway was completely deserted and filled with rubble, but there was light and noise coming from the corner room.  We knocked, but there was no answer.  Very cautiously, ready to jump back at any minute, we pushed the door open.  Empty.  The fire was lit, a television was going, but there was no one inside. 

At this point, it was entirely too creepy and we had to get out.  Quickly.  Very quickly. 

However, this still left us with the problem of being locked in the stadium at night.  The situation had indeed developed into a problem. 

We looked around behind the building, but all we found was a horse.  He didn’t look too inclined to help us.  With the aid of some dead tree branches, we tried clambering up and over the fence, but we couldn’t get nearly high enough.  Lika called her parents, but they didn’t know what to tell us. 

Finally, we decided to go wait by the gate again in hopes that we could flag down a passing police officer or someone else equally useful.  The gate still sported its pair of serious-looking padlocks.  That started me wondering: why were there two padlocks on one gate? 

They weren’t locked, that’s why.  Each part of the gate had a padlock securely through it, but the only thing holding the two padlocked sections together was a stick jammed through them.  The only thing holding the gate shut (and keeping us panicking inside) was a stick.  It wasn’t even a big stick.  Pippin would have looked at me in disdain had I told her to fetch it. 

Still, next time we go running, Lika has suggested we find somewhere else. 

We'll miss our cheering section, though.

Crazy Tipsy Georgian Dancing Mosh Pit Yay!

I came home the other day to find Maka and Lali from next door in the middle of their own mini-supra.  Well, actually, it wasn’t so much a supra as a plate of khatchapuri and a very large, mostly empty bottle of cha-cha.  I’m not sure what exactly they were celebrating, but they seemed determined to celebrate in grand style.  Lali’s daughters showed up looking for their mother and got sucked into the celebration without much protest. 

Gaumarjos, I guess!

They made me bring down my panduri and play for them the one song I’ve learned.  I don’t even know the words, just na-na na-na.  Since the cha-cha was pretty much gone by this point and they had moved on to the cognac, I don’t think they actually noticed. 

Of course, my feeble attempts at Georgian music inspired them to play all the Georgian music Maka has on her computer.  Tako has been studying Georgian dancing nearly as long as Ani has, so she decided to teach me.  Of course, this devolved quite naturally into a Georgian dance party in the living room. 

I'm not entirely sure what's going on here...

Or here...

Raise the roof!  Um, literally in my case.

And then Lali decided that she wanted a mustache.

At some point, someone put on some swing music, and they had me teaching them the Jitterbug and the Charleston. 

Maka dancing to Benny Goodman

Ruso had the camera, and she made very good use of it.  I’m pretty sure some of her photos are going up on Russian FaceBook as blackmail in a language I don’t understand.  

And done.

Christmas in Georgia

Kelsey Strait, Mira, and Nathan were all flying out of Tbilisi at almost the same time Arlie was flying in.  I met up with them in Tbilisi before they had to leave for one last romp round the city.  Kelsey and I made our way up to Sameba Cathedral, where we once again stumbled into a Georgian church service.  Why do I seem to keep attending service accidentally with Kelsey?  The choir was amazing, and I think the Patriarch was there, or at least some guy who resembled him quite a bit.  It was more than bit like a graduation ceremony, with all the priests and prelates in their different coloured gowns parading around the church. 

We saw some sort of convoy of Coke trucks driven by Santa Claus and spouting really strange music while on Rustavellli near the Square. 

Finally we went to the airport, where they were leaving and I was meeting Arlie.  I could hardly stand still I was so excited, and Neema thought it was hilarious.  Her mother was coming in on the same flight as Arlie, and she was just about as excited.  And then the doors opened and there was the most wonderful sight I’ve seen since August 13^th.  Arlie coming through the arrivals gate. 

Jet lag hit him pretty hard, so we spent most of his first day hanging out in the hostel while he recovered from two days of travelling. 

Arlie brought me a Christmas present!

Freedom Square

You can see Sameba and the Millenium Bridge lit up behind him

The kinkhali was happy to see us

We spent Christmas in Tbilisi, admiring the lights on Rustavelli Avenue, seeing the old castle, and visiting the unofficial American Embassy, where Arlie had his Christmas dinner.

I think it was a Big Mac

We spent a day in Mtskheta, where we were given a tour of the Church.  Apparently, the walls are hollow and can hide up to six hundred people in the event of a siege.  There’s even a well inside the church walls. 

After Christmas, we went to Sighnaghe, which everyone had told me is known as the City of Love in Georgia.  It’s supposed to have pretty spectacular views, but everything was covered in fog when we were there.

I still think the view was amazing

Arlie was a big hit in Telavi.  My host family all loved him, especially Goga.  The two of them played MineCraft together, and Goga resolved to study English harder so that he can talk to Arlie over Skype (a resolution he has since forgotten).  Maka likes Arlie so much that she found him a job at one of the cafés in the city square and told him he can live in her house. 

They bonded over MineCraft

We had a supra just about every night Arlie was there.  There was a supra to welcome Arlie, a supra for New Year’s Eve, a supra for New Year’s Day, and a supra for the new television my host family bought.  One of the reasons Maka loves Arlie so much is that he helped her prepare all the food and then did the washing-up all on his own.  He also brought in firewood, kept Goga entertained, made pizza, and told Maka her cooking was delicious before eating second and third helpings.  No wonder she wanted him to stay. 

New Year's Eve supra.  Giorgi, the guy in the middle, shot his hair off with a firecracker.

New Year's Day supra

Arlie got a chance to see the many fabulous sights of Telavi. 

King Irakles and the mountains!

We never got around to visiting Armenia, Bakuriani, Lagodekhi, or any of the other places I’d planned on seeing with Arlie.  Somehow, the effort never seemed worth the payout when the only thing I wanted to do was hold Arlie’s hand.  

Christmas Concerts

I’m normally not scheduled to work on Fridays, but my director specifically requested that I come in on the last day of the term.  Apparently, they were planning something a bit out of the ordinary. 

Grades Two and Three

The festivities started at eleven, with the youngest kids’ concert.  Grade One sang songs in Georgian and English, all dressed up in their Christmas finery.  Grades Two and Three joined them for dancing and poetry recitals.  Grade Four put on a play about … well, I have no idea what it was about.  But Tovlis Babua showed up at the end of it! 

Tovlis Babua, cleverly disguised as a mild-mannered Mamuka

The director was late and showed up when it was all almost over.  So the kids did it all over again. 

A play about angels and gold from Fourth Grade

Georgian dancing from Fifth Grade

First Graders with fire!

And Rezzo flirting with the camera

After, we had a supra in the teacher’s lounge.  Kinkhali and k’ahde, and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.  they made me drink cognac, but it was the wine that nearly did me in.  Georgian wine is mostly homemade, which means it varies quite a bit from batch to batch.  This particular batch was so strong that it made my feet feel dizzy. 

Apparently, you can get kinkhali by the bucket-load!

There are three different kinds of alcohol on this table.  Can you spot them?

There were toasts and wishes for my good health and future happiness, since I’d be moving to teach in Tsinandali Village School in January.  The music teacher got everyone to sing Aelilo songs together, which got more enthusiastic as more wine was consumed. 

My co-teachers, Natia and Lamara

When it was all over, I grabbed my rucksack from my house and headed to the hospital.  Doctor Zurab took my cast off and told me not to lift anything heavy for several weeks.  I couldn’t bend or straighten my arm all the way, but that’ll come back with time and lots of painful stretching.  I went straight from the hospital to catch the marshrutka to Tbilisi, where I’d be meeting Arlie’s plane in time for Christmas Eve!

What do harps and rugby have in common?

There is a man in Georgia named Giorgi.  This is not very noteworthy by itself, as it seems that at least a third of the men in Georgia are named Giorgi.  However, this particular Giorgi developed a fascination with Irish pubs and decided to open his own… in Georgia… despite never having been to Ireland.  He managed a pretty good facsimile just from photos he found online.  And because this particular Giorgi is such a fan of How I Met Your Mother, he named his new pub McLaren’s.  

Just a few days after opening his pub, who should wander in but two bona-fide, genuine Irish people from TLG.  Giorgi, being Giorgi and therefore Georgian, fell to chatting with Aine and Bernard, asked for their approval of the authenticity of his new pub, and eventually invited them to come and play there.  Since Bernard and Aine - who live in Telavi with me - knew that I play the harp, they asked if I’d like to come along and play with them.  Yay!

Naturally, we had to go to a rugby match beforehand.  Georgia was playing against Japan.  Since I know absolutely nothing of the rules of rugby, I was pretty much entirely relying on Olly to explain what was going on.  It didn’t help that the flags of both countries are red and white and both teams had red and white uniforms.  As far as I could make out, rugby basically consists of the two teams playing football with occasional breaks to have a giant huddle where they danced back and forth a bit. 

The only reason I figured out that the game was over was because everyone around me was standing up and walking out of the stadium.  The massive number of riot-control police ringing the stadium all looked vaguely disappointed that they hadn’t been called into action at all. 

Kelsey and I made our way back to the hostel to grab our stuff before heading over to McLaren’s.  Kelsey volunteered to be my roadie for the evening.  Since my harp is small enough that I can carry it in one hand, her role mainly consisted of trying to get me to help her finish off the bottle of vodka she’d brought with her. 

The pub was completely packed by the time we were ready to play.  Just about every corner was full of TLG people, with only a few Georgians filling in any space left.  

Andy, a British guy from Group 46, played with us on his harmonica.  There were so many people and the guitars were amped up so much that I just turned my harp into the rhythm section and beat on the soundboard like a drum.  My hand went numb after a while, but it was one of the most fun gigs I’ve ever played. 

At one point, we looked out the window to see a group of really huge Asian men in sharp suits walking past with a few smaller guys who must have been coaches or trainers.  It was the Japanese rugby team; at least, I hope it was the Japanese rugby team.  They were more than a bit confused when we all waved and jumped and shouted how much we loved them in Japanese. 

It was certainly one of the best paying gigs I’ve ever had.  Giorgi gave me all the beer I could drink – which Kelsey drank for me – and really tasty hot chocolate.