Leaving the Nest

What does one wear to meet one's new family?  I've been considering this question for a while now.  My host family will be here in a few hours to take me to Telavi, in the Kakheti region.  There, I will be living with a mother, a father, an eleven year old girl, and a nine year old boy and teaching at City Telavi Public School N6.  

TLG took us on a shopping excursion yesterday so everyone could stock up on supplies now that we're better informed about what we'll need.  Chalk, it seems, is a pretty hot commodity in Georgian schools.  After a very badly serenaded bus ride (thanks to Chris and Derrick, who are far worse back row singers than the GSGIS cross country team could ever hope to be), we came to the biggest chain grocery store in Georgia.  Goodwill.  Fortunately, no relation to the used clothing stores in America.  It's sort of like a Costco, a WalMart, and a Dollar General all rolled into one.  It was a bit odd, but they had awesome chocolate.  

Goodwill.  Not used clothing in Georgia.

Far more interesting was the bazaar they took us to after Goodwill.  People were selling everything here.  I'm pretty sure I even saw a booth advertising human organs.  Or maybe it was pig and cow organs.  My Georgian still isn't so great.  With Renada's help, I managed to get a surge protector and a plug adapter, which is good because the adapter I brought with me shorted out already.  All on my own, I managed to get sunglasses, earrings, kvas, and food.  Go me and my horrendous mangling of the Georgian language!

Musical instruments and sunglasses.  All of life's necessities in one convenient location!

As we were leaving, we were approached by a pair of really skinny little boys covered in sores begging for money or food.  TLG had warned us not to give anything to the beggars, but what are you supposed to say to those big, brown eyes, especially when you're eating junk food you really don't need?  I still haven't figured that one out.

Kelsey Squared and I wanted to do something besides sit in the hotel and study Georgian on our last night, so Olly suggested we find the church with the gold dome that we've been seeing across the river.  After picking up Tom, James, and Mat, we started looking in the most logical place: a coffee shop.  Eventually, after judicious applications of caffeine, we started in the direction of the church, only to be sidetracked immediately by an ice cream shop.  I managed to order completely in Georgian and was quite proud of myself until the clerk handed me my change.  I mixed up “gamarjobat” and “gmadlobat,” so I told her “hello” and walked out the door.  So much for my fluency.

Olly, James, Tom, Kelsey, Matt, and Kelsey.  If you're reading this, I'm  going to assume you know which one is me.

After a brief detour across the Peace Bridge, which is really nifty when it’s all lit up at night, our quest to find the Holy Grail, er, um, big church continued by asking a policeman for directions.  We conjugated the verb carefully and made sure to pronounce all the letters in the right places, only to have him shake his head at us and say, “English, please!”  One long, winding climb through the back neighbourhoods of Tbilisi later, we finally found the church.  It was locked up for the night.  C’est la vie.

Possibly a wine bar.  Possibly something else entirely.

We did pass this house, with this crazy sign on the door.  I think it’s advertising wine but, as has been proven to me multiple times tonight, my Georgian is pretty terrible.  Rather than go back to the hotel empty-handed, so to speak, we went instead to a bar with possibly the coolest name in the former Soviet Union: The KGB Still Watches You. 

Soviet flags and Soviet propaganda and Happy New Year to Our Dear Leader

On the way back to the hotel, we got the taxi driver almost lost and nearly wound up driving out to Bazaleti Lake, partly because go left and go right are equally unpronounceable in Georgian (marts’khniz and marjvniv, respectively).  Many thanks to Olly and his British charades, which are apparently universally understood by taxi drivers. 

And now, we’re all nervously waiting around in the hotel lobby.  Our host families are all in a meeting with TLG about what to expect from us.  I keep hearing the song from the beginning of Annie playing in my head: “Betcha he reads, betcha she sews, maybe she’s making a closet of clothes…”  We’re all little orphans just waiting to meet our new parents.  I wonder what they’ll be like.

Lost little orphans waiting for a new family