Espresso, the Play

My school director invited me to join the other teachers at a play on Saturday night.  I’m not sure if he said a Georgian play in Spanish or a Spanish play in Georgian.  Since I’d be lost either way, I figured it didn't much matter which one it turned out to be. 

This is the poster outside the theatre.  In context of the play I saw, it still makes no sense. 

There was a guy who was supposed to be writing music, I think.  And a man with red shoes and a cape.  And a lot of people wearing black and white who seemed to like attacking the other man.  And a girl wearing very short shorts and very big boots. 

The best part of the play was the music.  I’m pretty sure that the person picking the music didn’t actually speak English.  When there was a very scary and ominous creeping of the chorus across the stage, they played this music.  Fast forward to about 2:09.  When the chorus became a horde and overwhelmed the main character and dragged him off stage or piled on top of him or tore him to pieces, we heard the cheery refrain of the Ukrainian BellCarol. 

You now know as much about what happened on stage as I do. 

Hurray for bonding in the workplace!

Gremi Old Church, Take 1

Amy had the brilliant idea of getting all the TLG volunteers and other English-speakers in Kakheti together to share files and actually use our native tongue again.  She invited us all to see the old church at Gremi, which is quite impressive. 

This is as close as I got to it.

Much more interesting was the café below the church.  After all, that’s where all the English speakers were. 

And Afrikaans speakers.  Nombulelo finally met Benjami, and the two of them took to each other like long-lost sisters.  They were so happy for a chance to speak Afrikaans with each other that I don’t think they spoke a word of English for the rest of the afternoon. 

I met Kaitlynn and Jamie, both of whom are living fairly close to Telavi.  Anna told us about the fertility jam her co-teachers have given her.  Amy told us all about the marshrutka driver who tried to kidnap her and the indignant reaction of her host grandmother.  It would seem that her host grandmother is just like Yoda.  Benjami told us all of the calf that had died in the stream above her village, which no one can explain.  Andrew told us about the rather interesting greeting he has taught his students in lieu of “good morning.”  I’ll leave that one up to your imagination.

Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

After making it safely back to Telavi (never a certainty on a marshrutka), Anna and Toby invited me to dinner at Emma’s flat.  It was glorious.  We had spinach salad with no mayonnaise and baked macaroni and cheese.

Just like home, except with Borjomi and Kubiti...

Emma made an apple pie for dessert, and there was even vanilla tea with milk.  I went to bed very happy in the belly region that night.

The cause of much joy

K'azbegi

Friday was payday, and we celebrated by going to Tbilisi and Georgetti.  I met several people from Group 43 at the unofficial American Embassy (McDonald’s) who were all going to a music festival that evening.  Kelsey S and I tried to go to the USA2Georgia office so she could pick up a package and I could send one.  We may have gotten off at the wrong metro stop, because we had no luck finding it.  When we stopped in a pharmacy for directions, we were told that it was both three hundred metres and three kilometres away.  I’m still trying to get used to the metric system, but I think that’s a pretty big difference.  For some reason, our phones weren’t working, so we couldn't even call the office and ask.

No matter.  We found the hostel, which was the really important thing.  For ten lari a night, we got a bed, wi-fi, and unlimited wine.  Not a bad deal, in my humble opinion.

Next morning, bright and early, we found a marshrutka and started the three-hour drive up the mountains.  Georgetti is a really big church and monastery on a mountaintop.  K’azbegi is the mountain behind the mountain with the church and monastery.  I was confused, and I may still be confused, but this other mountain was pink.

Does anything else really matter?

When the marshrutka driver stopped and told us we had arrived, I looked around the town for the church.  The only thing I saw that looked like a church was that one way up there, but that couldn’t be the one we were going to, right?  Uh, right?  Guys?

It's that tiny little dot on top of the closer mountain.

The climb took us nearly four hours, but it was perfect weather and fabulous scenery.  Not to mention some excellent company.  The company actually got smaller and smaller as we went up.  Pretty soon, it was just Tom, Kelsey M, and myself as people fell behind or turned back.  After about an hour of nearly vertical walking, Tom turned to us and said, “It starts to get a little steep here.”  And then he reminded us that he trained in Special Forces by proceeding to walk up like it was no big thing.  Olly told me once that Tom likes to go running in his village with bricks and water jugs in his backpack.  It shows. 

It was really that steep, not a trick of the camera.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood...

Kelsey and I had a more leisurely scramble.  The leaves were just starting to turn yellow in the woods, and we could see Mount K’azbegi covered in snow in the distance most of the way up.  When we finally made it to the top, I thought the whole hike was worth it. 

Proof!

There was a baptism going on in the church, so I didn’t take any pictures inside.  It was brighter than most Georgian churches I’ve seen, with frescoes on the walls and windows letting in the sun up near the top of the dome.  The outside, of course was spectacular.  Every direction I turned, I could see another angle of the mountains and the town and the snow.  Sengka decided that she wants to move her bedroom there so she can see that view every day.  Max did the next best thing by staying to camp on the mountaintop.

Georgetti Monastery

Mount K'aszbeghi

On the drive back, every seat in the marshrutka was full and a man was crouching on the floor by the door.  I thought he’d be very uncomfortable if he had to stand hunched over like that for the entire three hour drive.  Not long after we left the town, the driver pulled over, and a man standing by the road opened the door.  He handed a stick to the man inside.  It was a pretty nice stick, about the size of a walking stick, but I really want to know how long that man was standing by the side of the road with a stick.  We drove a bit further on, and the driver pulled over again.  The man who was now holding the stick hopped out and started walking off toward… well, nothing that I could see.  This whole exchange was so baffling that I’m still trying to think of a reason for it.  Any ideas?

This was on the way back to Tbilisi

That evening in Tbilisi, and the whole of Sunday was kind of a celebration of all the food we’ve been missing in our respective towns and villages.  Fajitas, chips and salsa, strawberry ice cream, omelettes, schwarma, chocolate, everything.  I ate so much, and it was all amazing.  Georgian food is good, but I was missing the variety. 

I missed the last marshrutka back to Telavi, so I had to take a taxi.  The old lady beside me in the taxi decided that I would marry her grandson.  She didn’t seem to care that I’ve never met her husband and I’m already married.  My wedding is all worked out in her head, apparently.  His name is Giorgi, and he is seventeen.  Be still, my beating heart.  

Sibs and Nombulelo

Nombulela and Sibu decided to come visit me in Telavi on Saturday.  They had just planned on coming any old random day, but it turned out that there was quite a bit of activity in the city that day.  On my way to meet them at the marshrutka station, I ran into Gucha, who told me that Sakashvili would be in Telavi that afternoon.  The centre of the city was full of people scurrying around to finish all the construction projects before the Big Guy arrived.  It reminded me more than a bit of when The Suits would come to visit Kroger: everything looked very pretty when they walked through but would fall apart as soon as they left.  Turf was laid, balconies were painted, and all the trash was thrown behind the courtyard walls where it wouldn’t be  seen until after everyone left, like cleaning your room by throwing everything under the bed. 

Telavian construction workers, hard at ... uh... work.

This was all bare dirt a few minutes before.

We ran into Paul working on his movie at the USAid office, and he joined us for lunch at Limbo, a grocery store kind of like Ukrops without all the groceries.  (I know that doesn’t make much sense.  In Georgia, it makes perfect sense.)  With Paul in tow, we explored the Old Castle, which was finally open.  Maybe it wasn’t open, but the guard didn’t stop us from squeezing through the gate, which counts as open.  This castle has been closed for renovation since I came to Telavi, so I had never actually seen it. 

The castle and a statue of King David, all pretty for the festivities.

Inside the castle, where we probably shouldn't have been.

This tree is supposed to be eight hundred years old, which makes it magical.  We were told to hold hands and walk around it in a circle to make a wish.  The group of kids hanging around the tree were there for the sole purpose of holding hands with visitors and wishing.  According to the girl who seemed to be in charge of the operation, they are from a club sponsored by the government to foster leadership and patriotism.  It sounded a bit like the Young Pioneers to me.

Dear Magic Tree, please bring me a pony and some reliable electricity

Because of its geography and history, Georgia has a very homogenous population.  Almost everyone I’ve met here looks like cousins.  I get stared at all the time because I am taller and lighter than the Georgians, but it was nothing to what Nombulelo and Sibu faced when we walked through the random street festival.  People were pointing at them, taking pictures of them, even trying to touch them.  When Paul and I told some guy not to take their picture, he got very angry at us.  Even my host family was shocked when I brought these ladies home. 

Not pictured: Sibs and Nombulelo

Nombulelo had to catch the last marshrutka back to her village so she could make it to her host father’s birthday supra the next day.  It was very sad to see her leave us.  She called later and said she was standing outside her house and waiting for a marshrutka to fall from the sky to bring her back to Telavi.  I told her it probably wouldn’t work very well after falling from that height, but she was still hopeful. 

Still not pictured: Sibs and Nombulelo.  Actually, I have no idea what this is; these people were just wandering down the street and dancing.

Emma, a TLGer who has been in Telavi for a year, had a party at her flat for TLG teachers from all around Kakheti that evening.  We met lots of other English-speakers, including some from right here in Telavi.  I finally learned the name of the guy with the camera who is always hanging around the USAid office: Giorgi.  Honestly, I should have guessed as much; it seems half the male population in this country is named Giorgi.  The party was fun and bizarre, like they all seem to be.  I played drinking games with a bunch of Georgian guys who didn’t know enough English to understand the rules; I listened to a South African and an Australian debate their countries’ respective immigration policies; I heard a half-drunk Lithuanian and a completely drunk Georgian arguing about election transparency; and I now have a bunch of numbers in my phone with names I don’t recognize.

City Centre, the theatre, the library, and a bunch of random Georgians.  Emma's ideal location!

About halfway through the party, I noticed a bunch of people setting up instruments on the huge stage just outside Emma’s flat.  When the band came on and started playing, I thought they sounded awfully familiar.  It was the Gypsy Kings, playing in Telavi, right outside the window.  How did I miss that memo?!  Tarkhun, Gypsy Kings, and fireworks.  It was a good party.

None of my pictures from the evening turned out, so I invite you instead to enjoy this photo of Ursha and Kiki, the two puppies at my house.

Thunder and Lightning, Very, Very Frightening

I was lying in bed last night when I noticed a sound like a truck going over a bridge, repeatedly and just outside my window.  Since there are no bridges anywhere near my window, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.  Away to the window I flew in a flash, tore open the shutter and threw up the sash. 

Instead of seeing Santa Claus, I saw a huge, very oddly-shaped cloud hanging over the Kakheti valley.  It was surrounded by clear sky and stars, and it was shaped like an anvil.  I had never thought of Telavi as being particularly high until I realized that I was even with the thundercloud, looking across at it.  I could see lightning flashing constantly from one spot to another, and the rumbling noise I heard was the thunder. 

My camera is nowhere near smart enough to get good pictures of the side of the thunderstorm, but this is a picture I took just after a thunderstorm a few days ago.  

Of Kinkhali and Panduris

Kelsey M lives in Lagodekhi, a village just outside of Gurjaani, which is about a forty minute ride from Telavi.  Faiza and I went down there on Tuesday to see her and Shelly, who lives in Gurjaani.  Since Faiza’s been here since January, she was able to negotiate with the marshrutka driver for us.  She’s very handy like that. 

We asked the driver to let us off when we saw the sign that said Gurjaani, but it turned out to be the sign for the city limits.  We had a bit of a walk to the city centre, where we would be meeting Kelsey and Shelly.  Along the way, we found this park and museum.  According to my research (asking Kelsey, again), the statue is a monument to a man who went off to battle to find his son and bring him home.  They both died.  Now they have this big statue. 

The museum was a tiny, one-room art gallery of this guy’s paintings.  Most of them had to do with the Red Army, but I couldn’t tell if he was for or against the Russians.

Just your friendly neighbourhood Stalin, out for a walk with Granny.

Like most cafés in Georgia, the one we went to had a very extensive menu but only four dishes that were actually available: lobiani, katchapuri, bread with tomatoes, and kinkhali.  We ordered kinkhali, boiled dumplings filled with potato, meat, or cheese.  The Georgians have some magical method of eating these so that the broth inside doesn’t run all over their hands and faces, but I have not yet developed that skill.  I guess I just need to practice by eating lots of kinkhali. 

Kinkhali, as made by Maka

Kelsey’s host family does demonstrations of Georgian culture for tourists.  They host supras, play music, cook traditional dishes, and so on.  The grandfather has a shop in the back of the house where he makes panduris, a three-stringed instrument kind of like a saaz or a lute.  He even let me hold one and try to play it.  I now know how to play two chords; that makes me an expert, right?

I'll be taking my act on tour next month

We had tea and cookies in the garden with Kelsey’s host sister.  Sopo is twenty and speaks very good English, as well as playing the panduri very well.  She plays even better than I do, if you can believe it. 

Georgian tea parties are awesome!

When Simon, Kelsey’s host father, found out that we were there, he ran upstairs to put on his traditional costume for us.  He played panduri and posed and preened like any movie star on the red carpet, but he also told us what all the different bits on his costume were.  Most of them had to do with weapons.  The strap that wasn’t for a weapon was for holding the things killed with the weapons. 

Bullet cartridges, knives, daggers, and a panduri: everything needed to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies!

Simon gave me the number of one of his buddies who has a Georgian folk band in Telavi.  If I’m lucky, he’ll teach me to play the panduri and the changi and all the other nifty Georgian instruments.  Huzzah!

To Batumi

It seemed that everyone in TLG Group 43 decided to visit Batumi before the weather got too cold for swimming.  The Kakhetians wound up being among the last to arrive; we got to Batumi just as everyone else was leaving.  I met up with Shelly and Kelsey Scuared at the American Embassy in Tbilisi (also known as McDonalds).  We tried to take the night train to Batumi, but they were completely sold out by the time we got to the station.  Instead, we took a marshrutka, and I was quite proud of myself for negotiating the fare down to seventeen lari apiece from twenty. 

Kakheti!  Represent!

After a very long, eight-hour ride in a vehicle that was not designed for anyone over five and half feet tall, we arrived in Batumi late Friday evening.  The taxi driver we met at the marshrutka station assured us that he would take us directly to our hostel and then, in typical Georgian fashion, drove around for a while asking everyone he passed on the street if they knew where the hostel was.  All the hassle, all the cramped spaces and smelly fellow travellers were worth it when we checked in the hostel and found tons of other people from TLG inside, speaking English. 

Intentionally blurry to protect the innocent.  You believe me, right?

Everyone had choreographed a dance to some ridiculous K-Pop song and ran out to a bar to show it off.  Sadly, I missed this amazing spectacle.  I tried to take advantage of the free Wi-Fi in the hostel, but my computer refused to connect.  These backpackers from Germany tried to adjust the settings on my computer so I could log on (and they could check their emails) but they couldn’t read all the English control panel settings. 

Yup, I'm that creepy person taking pictures while you brush your teeth

On our first day in Batumi, we walked the boardwalk with Sengka and James.  Becky met up with us for some traditional Georgian dancing lessons.  

We're very fast learners

We figured out how to order ice cream in Georgian, a major victory for our language skills.  I’m not sure if this giant squid mosaic thing is supposed to be a fossilized giant squid or a bar or an open-air restroom for the lifeguards (it was being used as the latter). 

It was too cold to go swimming in the Black Sea, but we splashed around a bit, just to say we had.  For dinner, we went to a restaurant that had advertised a traditional Georgian quartet performing in the evening.  It turned out to be drunk Georgian karaoke.  Very loud, drunk Georgian karaoke. 

Proof!

On Batumi Day Two, Kelsey and Kelsey and I went to the Batumi Botanical Gardens, which were lovely.  We had a bit of trouble telling the marshrutka driver where we wanted to go, but he gave us a tour of Batumi in Russian along the way.  The Gardens are immense, but very much like Maymont.  All the trees and flowerbeds had signs in Georgian, English, Russian, and Latin, giving the plant name and origin.  

It almost smelled like a real magnolia.  Almost.

There were different sections of the Garden for each area and climate of the world.  We stopped in the Japanese Garden for a bit and had a Nutella picnic.  At the end of the Garden, we saw a wedding party just outside the little café there.  I think they had come too have pictures taken, like people do at Maymont in Richmond. 

Japan, Georgian style

While we were in the Japanese Garden, we got a call from Tom and Ollie, asking how we were doing and saying how sorry they were that they couldn’t make it down from Samegrelo.  But look who we found in the hostel when we got back.  Wankers. 

Wankers.

Max and Jon joined us at the hostel for dinner, Adjarian khatchapuri and watermelon. 

It tastes much better than it looks.

So, when you get a bunch of Americans, Brits, Canadians, Kiwis, and South Africans together in a beach resort city, surrounded by casinos and bars, what do you think they do?  They go to the library, of course. 

No, really.  We went to the library.  For fun.

We went to the art museum, too.  The museum staff didn’t really seem to care how close we got to the artworks, even if we touched them.  (It wasn’t on purpose.  I promise!)  This painting there showed a fairly accurate depiction of everyday life in Georgia. 

This is what happens every day when I get back from school.

If Tbilisi was a strange jusxtaposition of space age super old architecture, Batumi was a strange juxtaposition of Technicolor opulence and poverty.  There were huge statues and grand opera houses across the street from crumbling tenements.  Massive construction projects next to people sleeping on cardboard in the streets.  It was like a thin veneer of new paint covering up everything unsightly in the city. 

Also, the fountain is lactating.  And they're building a ferris wheel on top of that other building.  Why?

The best parts about Batumi were the Gardens and the ability to speak English with other people in person.  I was able to sit at the table and tell stupid jokes about elephants with Tom and  arguing about whether something was a biscuit or a cookie with Ollie. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed being able to talk to people without struggling to think of the words and resorting to pantomime. 

Getting back to Telavi was more than a bit of a trek.  I was followed the whole way back by a Polish lady who had decided to host a psychologists’ conference in Georgia.  When I finally reached my street, Goga’s friends ran down the street after me, showing off the bits of English they know.  Little old ladies I’ve never spoken to before greeted me by name and asked me how I liked Batumi.  Then Maka made me tea and kartopeli salati, and all was right with the world.  

Level Up!

The entire city of Telavi seems to be under construction or renovation of one form or another.  And Georgian construction safety standards are… well, they’re not like American safety standards.  I’m not sure they exist at all, to tell the truth.  This is why – I realized the other day – I am now living in a video game.

Call of Duty XV: Telavi

Before I leave the house, I have to armour myself with my magical shoes of +5 Agility and make sure my potion bottles are filled so I can top up my HP when it starts to run low.  I have my pocket Georgian dictionary as a defensive and possible offensive weapon, in case I need to interact with the local NPCs or ward off attacks from creepy construction guys.  My quest most days is to find internet and electricity somewhere in the city. 

You can tell they're magical because they have stars on them!

From the top of the street, everything looks quiet and peaceful.

The neighbours haven't noticed any problems

The first challenge comes at the bottom of the street, where they are digging up the water main.  This right here is why I don’t have running water or electricity.  There is no sign at the top of the street that the road is impassable; even the police don’t seem to realize it.  In the evenings, I sometimes sit outside and time how long it takes cars to realize their mistake and turn around in the narrow street.  So far, the record is a full-size tour bus, as big as a Greyhound.

Road closed due to no longer existing

After I’ve scaled the giant pile of rubble at the bottom of the street, I have to find the only safe path through the mess that is the rest of the street.  It’s liable to shift and change at any time.  If I look very carefully, I can just make out the letters I…E…H…O…V… and so on in the rocks.  Sometimes, I can ask the Old Lady NPC which way is best.  With my pocket dictionary and the correct combination of syllables, I might be able to get some help at this stage.

Bodishi, kalbat'ono. Sahd midikhart?

The wires on the ground are live, by the way.  That’s why I only have electricity maybe once or twice a week.  If I’m lucky. 

At this stage, I also have to get past the gauntlet of Georgian construction workers.  Whenever I walk by, they all stop what they’re doing and stare at me, regardless of what I wear or how I walk.  For some of them, I am the first foreigner they’ve ever seen in person.  I’m too tall to pass as Georgian.  If I time it right, I might run into another NPC at this stage.  Sometimes a neighbour, sometimes Bebia.  The neighbour NPCs like to say Hello and Gamardjoba and ask where I am going, then tell all the others around who I am and what I am doing in Telavi.  If this happens, the construction workers will generally go back to work and pretend they weren’t staring. 

The Level Boss is the Bulldozer.  Bulldozer blocks the entire street, and I just have to figure out how to get past him.  I can either wait for someone else to catch his eye, or I can wave my hands and shout.  Eventually, Bulldozer might stop for a second, giving me just enough time to scramble over the pile of rubble he’s just created and try to remember how to say Thank You in Georgian.

Didi gmadlobat!

After defeating Bulldozer, I have to stop and drink my potion to replenish my HP.

Clearly magical, even if it doesn't have stars on it.

You can tell the construction workers aren’t human because they don’t wear any protective armour.  Pickaxes and welding torches inches but flip-flops and no shirts.  Clearly, these guys are some kind of cyborg. 

At long last, I reach my destination: The Ministry of Science and Education of Georgia.  It looks like this on the outside. 

Inside, I am greeted by this sign, which looks all official and serious.  The literal translation of the Georgian is: “Sorry, Kathleen.  Your electricity is in another office.”

Of course that's what it says.  That stuff in English underneath is totally unrelated.

Around behind the Gamgeorba, I meet the Final Boss, Backhoe.  Unlike Bulldozer, Backhoe does not stop.  Ever.  In a desperate feat of daring and skill, I have to wait until he’s lifted whatever he wants to lift from the heaps of rocks and dirt.  While he’s distracted, with his hoe in the air, I run underneath with my arms over my head to shield myself from the debris raining down. 

Level Up! (insert happy sound effects here)

There is one final, yawning chasm, and then I arrive.  Oh, what blessed relief comes at the sight of that sign!  Here in this oasis of peaceful tranquillity and English words, I can find electricity, Internet, a cup of coffee, and a Georgian girl who will tell me where to buy sugar and power cords in Telavi. 

Game Won!

Crap, I have to do it all again in reverse to go home…