Telavi

Kristen,

This evening, I finally received my placement. In two days I will be moving to a small city in the eastern half of Georgia - Telavi, in the Kakheti region.

From what I understand, Telavi is notable for two reasons: first, it's located on a plateau, next to a green and subtropical valley, at the base of the Caucasus mountains. It's supposed to be a stunningly scenic place, and consequently has a healthy tourist industry.

Second, it's in a major wine-making region of Georgia, and the wine produced here is supposed to be spectacular. I've also been told that I'll be arriving during harvest season, so I may be able to observe (or participate!) in the wine-making.

But this evening has marked more than just the discovery of my new address. Everything's becoming so real now. Before my departure, I was never really able to wrap my head around the fact that I was moving to Georgia. I only began to feel something while on the plane last week. It hit me that I was perhaps making a mistake, getting out of my depth, and doing something that was truly crazy. I saw gates displaying flights to London and New York, and I considered bolting for those much safer international relocations. Since arriving in Georgia, though, I haven't had those feelings again, even as I've found myself reduced to near-illiteracy in a radically different geography and mystifying culture. I've had the cocoon of the hotel, of my English-speaking orientation group, and of the protective program co-ordinators to make me forget exactly how far away from my own culture, my own context, my own life I am.

That changed this evening. My new home has a name (and, if Wikipedia is to be believed, a beautiful face). I have one day of training - including one day of life-saving Georgian language lessons - left until I meet my host family and are whisked away to an even more remote and unfamiliar part of the world. Until now, I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that my presence in Georgia wasn't temporary - but I am not going home anytime soon. Everything familiar to me is packed in a hockey bag, and anything I miss will have to wait until Christmas. This week of orientation was merely dipping my toes in the water; my real endeavour is only about to begin.