The End

I haven't been able to sort through my emotions this week (although they swung between contentment and crying at the Academy twice). It may be a month or more before I'm able to assess my near-year here. That may come out as a blog post. If not, thank you for reading. It's been a vaguely narcissistic blast.

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Things I'm going to miss about Georgia (an incomplete list):

• Marshrutkas. They're like buses, but faster and they stop wherever you want them to! Unlike buses,  the mentally ill, substance abusers, and punk-ass teenage boys don't get up in your face. Also, marshrutkas have a social code of conduct that is strictly abided by - no smoking, if you're standing and carrying bags someone who's sitting will hold them for you, children will be looked after, etc.
• Entreé. A French café chain that is super delicious, super convenient, and carries my (second) favourite English newspaper, Financial. If I was ever going to eat bread again, I'd want to bring all theirs home with me.
• The mountains and hills of Tbilisi. Tbilisi is snuggled between mountains, in the valley of the Mtkvari River. Having a a view of both those things outside my bedroom window made me feel incredibly lucky. (On top of all the other things that regularly made me feel incredible lucky).
• Nabeghlavi. My favourite Georgian mineral water and cure for most stomach-related illnesses - not to mention hangovers, if you're so inclined.
• The Messenger. It was a pleasure going to work most days, thanks to my fun-loving and generous co-workers. I learned so much about Georgian politics and society - this job was absolutely invaluable. 
• The Police Academy. There was heat and air conditioning, a pool and gym, internet, and good friends. I practically lived at this place.
• Black currant juice. The best.
• Payboxes. A paybox is a machine, found usually in convenience stores and Metro stations, where you can pay your bills, top up your Metromoney card, place bets, buy rail tickets, put credit on your phone, and do a million other things. I'm not looking forward to returning to my cumbersome pay-as-you-go phone in North America, which requires a credit card, the last four digits of my (now non-existent) social and a phone call to T-Mobile to top up.
• Luca Polare's hot chocolate. Basically a chocolate bar and some cream melted in a pot.
• Using Georgian words in text messages. Instead of writing the finger-cramping "tomorrow", I write kval. Instead of "the day after tomorrow"? Zeg.
• The jewelry at Kinos Sakhli. In between the souvenirs and questionable art on the steps of the old cinema house, you can find wonderful, eclectic and often handmade jewelry for excellent (and negotiable!) prices. 
• The feeling of bliss upon entering Batumi. The beach atmosphere is instantly calming - no wonder it's the most popular vacation spot in the entire country.
• Platinum Popcorn's creamy dill flavour. There's no better accompaniment to second-run movies and rock-hard seats at the Kolga English theatre.
• Roasted mushrooms with cheese, peasant salad with walnut paste, shotispuri, strawberries from Kakheti, Adjaruli khatchapuri...
• Maniacal dreamboat Giorgi Targamadze. Hellooo, nurse!
• Georgian hospitality. Of course. Of course! What else is there to say about the family that took me in for nine months, the colleagues who pay for my marshrutka ride without saying a word, the friends and students who force-feed me, the strangers who help me with my bags, the innumerable people who took me under their wing when I was an overwhelmed Georgia newbie... it's unparalleled.

And then there are the people. A few thank-yous:

U.K. - role model; recipient and source of awful jokes

T.H. - rival in a fashion cold war; sounding board for my girliest pursuits

H.G. - a source of strength when I had none; an unlikely kindred spirit

C.R.O'N. - muse for the goofiest aspects of my personality; unfailing listener

M.H. - force of nature; source of wisdom

R.E. - salvager of my 2012; intellectual font for a parched mind

P. (MLR) - sparring partner; blog encourager

And to my host family, my colleagues at both the newspaper and the Academy, my students - thank you for building me a new home.

Vignettes

Dracula came up in one of my classes recently. A student said that he admired the real Dracula - Vlad the Impaler - because he was a great warrior who fought for his religion. I told him that was the most Caucasian thing I'd ever heard.

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On April Fool's Day, my host father told me that one of the higher-ups at the Police Academy had called, saying "something about Eshli's visa being revoked...?". I briefly fell for it even though I don't have a visa, but in my defense I'm still scarred from my experience in the US.

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A topic I find fascinating is the way that each generation interacts with technology in new ways, and how that technology influences their brains. There's a good reason why young people find touchscreens, smartphones,  video games, and internet searches effortless - we've been raised on those patterns and so our brains instinctively know how to "solve" the mystery of usage. The same goes for previous generations with technologies that were new then. See Stephen Johnson's Everything Bad is Good for You or Lewis Padgett's "Mimsy Were the Borogoves".

Anyway, one day I saw my 20-month-old host sister expertly remove the SIM card from her mother's phone and I was terrified. I wonder if that's the way my mother felt when she first watched me use a PC as a child.

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On the E60, the highway between Gori and Tbilisi, there are a number of signs that tell you how many kilometres until you reach any number of notable cities. Tbilisi is never on those signs. Instead, as I wonder how much longer until I'm home, I'm informed of the distance to Baku, Yerevan, and Tehran. (It's only 1200km from Tbilisi to Tehran, if you're curious).

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I went to Turkey over Easter, and toured the Black Sea coast there. It looks very similar to Georgia, but is greatly improved by the lack of Soviet bloc apartment buildings. Also, lentil soup. Is it weird that one of my favourite foods is lentils? 

In Turkey, seven people asked to take photos with me (mostly young women wearing headscarves). The Blonde Mystique at work!

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I spent ten days in Egypt and a day in Jordan last month. I rode a camel and a 4x4, went snorkeling and scuba diving, saw the Pyramids and the Sphinx, drove under the Suez Canal, hiked Petra, got a tan, and was notified, vigorously and often, of my deviant sexual proclivities by angry Egyptian hustlers and taxi drivers when I refused their services. When informed of a particular oral activity that I supposedly partake in "all day long", I really wanted to turn back to him and say, "Buddy, who has the time?"

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Returning to Tbilisi from a recent trip to Batumi, I was overcome with a strange feeling. Although I'm content to leave Georgia in two weeks, I'm very much looking forward to coming back. I don't know when or under what circumstances, but I really want to visit Tbilisi again and be overwhelmed with the memory of my time here - my routine, my haunts, my friends, my Georgian life. I want to bring someone along with me and point out the monuments to my year here. I want to see what's changed, and what's stayed the same. I want to feel at home again, even after an absence. I can't wait. 

Ho Hum II

A few more snippets from my everyday life...

I was at a party on Saturday night where I saw a 2-year-old drinking beer. Don't worry - it was his birthday.

I love the way that, when a parent with a small child gets on a marshutka, the other people on board grab the child to steady it, and often put it on a nearby seat or lap while the parent climbs aboard. This is completely normal, the parent never blinks an eye, and there are no howls of "THAT MOLESTER HAS MY BABY!". It's accepted that the people on the marshutka are going to make your child safer, rather than place it in harm's way. It is, I think, the sign of a healthy society.

A sign of an unhealthy society is the way some Georgians have concluded that the best place to count their change or check their cell phone is in store entrances or at the top of stairwells. No, it is not the best place to engage in those activities, so get the fuck out of my way. (I suppose it goes without saying that I walk much faster than most Georgians. I walk faster than most people, so obviously nothing is different here. To put it scientifically, if you and all Georgians and everyone you know under 6'4" walks at average pace - 5kph/3mph - then I walk at approximately the speed of sound).

There is a restaurant I frequent so often that all the staff recognize me. I'm a regular. I love becoming a regular of places (see also Osaka in Springfield, VA; Go Sushi in Milton, ON; Raavi Kebab in London, UK). Here's how often I'm there: one of the waitresses changed her hair recently, I noticed, complimented her, and she wasn't weirded out by this. (I also have a schwarma guy near work. Yeah, that's right, I have a schwarma guy. On a related note, I may eat too much schwarma).

The atrocious state of Tbilisi streets and sidewalks has nearly destroyed two pairs of my shoes (one, a pair of heels, may be too far gone to resole). That said, I have not, as of this writing, fallen down an unmarked sinkhole or hidden staircase.

I've gotten used to the toe-mangling speed of the Metro escalators; they seem slow to me now. I'm worried I'm going to have some sort of fit of impatience if I take an escalator in Canada. (Ha ha ha, I hear you laughing, when is Ashley not having a fit of impatience in Canada!).

The following video appeared in my facebook feed today, and it's reminiscent of the degradation of my own English. As much as I'm learning English grammar and sentence structure as I teach it, I'm also spending most of my time speaking slowly, simply and, sometimes, in a strange Georgian/English/Georgian-accent-in-English hybrid: I say "yes?" at the end of most questions I ask, I've picked up the Georgian habit of saying, "Of course, Eshli, of course!" whenever I say something obvious, I sometimes drop articles and pick up incorrect syntax in an effort to make new speakers understand me by using their own butchered English, etc. It's a dangerous habit!

Anyway, comedy:

I love it when a plan comes together

Kristen,

I did something momentous last week.

I picked up the option to extend my contract. Rather than ending my term at Christmas, I'm staying on with the program through June 15, 2012.

I'm staying with the police program, although I don't know where I'll be working or in what capacity.

I'm staying with my host family, barring unforeseen events.

I'm continuing to tutor my wonderful private pupils.

I'm going to be in Georgia for an extra five months (at least!).

I'm really happy about this. I gave this extension a lot of thought, and went back and forth on an almost daily basis throughout October. Each day I weighed my options under the sway of my emotional state. That didn't work. So I tried to evaluate the big picture - do I want to continue teaching? Do I want to stay with the program?  Do I miss my own culture enough? Do I need to get back to socially-approved "real life"?

What eventually moved me, though, weren't my answers to these big questions.

Of course, I considered my options. But let's get really, really, real - I had no plan for my return to Canada. None. And I am a planner. I always have a Plan A, and am rarely caught without a Plan B. I plan for the most minor of externalities. Catch me at any consequential moment and I've usually got two plans and a lie already prepared. So I certainly don't make big life moves without a plan.

But if I were to leave Georgia in December it would be sans plan. I would move back in with my parents. I would "job hunt" (an increasingly hollow, ironic, and emotionally devastating term in this economy). I would pick up part-time retail work, or volunteer, or join a sports team just to keep myself busy. But that's not a plan. It has no deadline, no exit strategy, and is hardly under my control. I reject such "planning".

So I'm staying in Georgia. But I'm not staying because of "push" forces - unemployment, Canada, an aimless future. I'm staying because I love my life. I love my friends. I love my job (most of the time). I love my status. I love the daily challenges. I love the opportunities that catch me off guard. I love living in a culture that's not my own. I love the newness. I love the constant change. I love the insane, dangerous, exhilarating freedom. I love the energy. I love the people. I love Georgia.

It's a pull I can't - and don't want to - resist.

Photos III: Photos With a Vengeance

I've posted an album from my trip into the mountains last weekend. They don't capture the majesty of the place, unfortunately, but there's some fun stuff nonetheless: check it out on facebook here.

I've also updated my Tbilisi album with some photos from my visit to the police academy firing range. I don't have photos of me up yet, though, but see them here.

Borjomi, Batumi, let's call the whole thing off!

My god, Kristen, WHERE TO BEGIN???

Last weekend was completely insane. A few of my friends planned a trip to Borjomi, a city known for its mineral water (a.k.a. Georgian hangover cure). We left Tbilisi early Saturday morning, and took a 2GEL, 4 hour, Soviet train ride that had a blog post's worth of stories (horrifying toilets, Japanese-style door rushing, old women selling tchotches, a creepy guy in a leisure suit hitting on us, a sweet young man giving us fruit, and on and on).

So, we arrive in Borjomi, walk around, see some sights, take a cable car ride, eat well for practically no money - then I get a phone call.

"The President invites you to attend the opera with him in Batumi - tomorrow."

Being the awesome people that they are, my friends offer to cover my exam on Monday and rush me to the marshutka (mini-bus) station to catch the last ride back to Tbilisi. We're on our way back to the guest house when, one by one, everyone else starts getting the call...

So the next thing we know we're practically flying back to Tbilisi in this marshuka, frantically planning opera-appropriate dress, shoes, hair and make-up, and calling host families and co-workers in an effort to cover classes and arrange our quick turn-around back out of the city.

The next day almost 100 teachers (including people who had just arrived in the country!) are packed onto two coaches and we head off on the world's longest bus ride to Batumi, on the Black Sea. (Another blog post's worth of stories - scenery, feasts, no time to get opera-appropriate, etc).

The opera we were seeing was "Keto da Kote", a sort of Georgian Romeo and Juliet, but much shorter and with a happy ending. The music was fantastic, but I hated the costumes. (Sidebar: Georgia produces a disproportionate number of excellent opera singers, as well as wrestlers).

MORE IMPORTANTLY, I sat in the front row and a mere four rows behind me, and to the left, was Misha! And Prince Albert of Monaco! I didn't turn my flash on so all the photos I took of them are terrible! GAH!

After such an exciting evening, I retired to my room, crawled into Pillow Mountain (it was an excellent hotel), and slept better than I have in weeks. The next morning I went for a stroll, swam in the Black Sea, played "Is that a jellyfish or is that a plastic bag?", ate an incredible breakfast, and saw one of the opera singers from the night before. Everyone was in an excellent mood, even in the face of another seven hour bus ride back to Tbilisi (yes, we probably spent more time on the bus than we did in Batumi).

The entire weekend had ups and downs perfectly representative of life in Georgia - lack of planning, little attention to deadlines, and cultural frustrations mixed with once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, incredible generosity, and utter contentment. The only real disappointment was not being able to meet Misha; giving into my friends' dare to say, "I love what you've done with the place", and getting a facebook profile-worthy photo together (either with finger guns or thumbs-up, I haven't decided yet).

(As proof of my adventure, please see me on Georgian TV here, and check out my facebook album here)

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In other news, I'm finally finished my classes and exams. I don't have my new schedule (although there's a rumor - there's always a rumor in this country - that my new classes begin Monday or Tuesday). I will be taking my current students (at least, the ones who passed the exams) up to the next level of instruction. I'm really excited about that, especially for my pre-intermediates, as they are all delights and conversations with them are usually entertaining, informative and a little ridiculous. I can't even begin to describe the romantic, political, tragicomic and amusing mini-essays they wrote for me.  

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Speaking of students, a guy I had never seen before showed up to take the exams yesterday. He liked to joke around, and we had our fun, but during his speaking exam this happened:

Me: What do you like to do in your free time?

Him: Well, I'm gay, so I hang out with my boys.

My brain: Horseshit. If this guy were actually gay there's no way he'd be so casual and open about it. But wait... being gay is really tough in Georgia, even in Tbilisi. If I laugh and call him out, I might betray his trust and hurt a young man who's just looking for an ally. 

My face: *poker*

Of course, mere seconds after I finish his exam my assistant, Magda, drops by. I say, "GUESS WHAT!?!?" but of course she already knows, because Magda knows all. She confirmed that the student was totally screwing with me, but my sensitive little North American heart stopped me from reacting appropriately. Oh, culture clash!

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One last thing (although there are more blog posts to come this week) - I've created a Georgia Wish List page. I'll be adding to it as time goes on, and crossing out items once they are accomplished. I'll also try to link to the blog entry that discusses their accomplishment. 

The good, the bad, and Misha

Kristen,

I apologize for all the heavy, reflective claptrap of the last two entries. Let's have some fun, yes?

First, a list of things about Georgia I find baffling:

• Although Georgians are far from the worst drivers I've seen, they still have some habits that make Western passengers blanch. They drive fast, sure, and don't stop for pedestrians, whatever. But they also change lanes like madmen and often drive on dividing lines when they have room to do so. Georgians aren't much for lining up on or off the road, and this manifests itself in drivers following the lane lines between two other cars - because hey, there's room, so why not use that space to pass?
• I understand and accept that I look very not Georgian, but it's still difficult to get used to being stared at. My assistant/class translator says that people in Tbilisi have grown accustomed to foreigners so it's not such a big deal to them anymore. Yet whenever I go out I feel like I have an arse for a face.
• The food is very good... but very salty. There's some kind of special Georgian salt (more of a browny-green colour than table salt, and a larger grain) that is very intense and savoury. I don't care for it... and may come home with the blood pressure of a 50-year-old man.
• Being on time is a foreign concept (although that is changing). I haven't gotten used to this, and so am my usual punctual self - which results in a lot of waiting. I don't do well with tardiness or with waiting. More ways I need to relax, and adapt!
• They call pop "limonati", even if it's not lemon-flavoured. (I'd say, on the absurdity scale, this is on par with those Southern U.S. states that call everything fizzy "coke").

Things I love about Georgia:

• I've mentioned this before, but the hospitality and care of friends and strangers blows me away. They will literally give you the shirt off their back. There's no stranger danger here - they are living embodiments of the aphorism, "A stranger is just a friend you haven't met". I'm so grateful for this every day (and not just because I usually have no idea what I'm doing).
• The escalators in the Tbilisi metro go really, really fast (I suspect because the stations are really, really deep). Also, the subway car doors open before the train comes to a complete stop. This is especially refreshing when compared to the D.C. metro, which has a pause of approximately a millennia between the train stopping and the door opening. The Tbilisi metro is also more reliable than the D.C. metro, even though it hasn't appeared to have been updated since the Soviets built it in the 1960s. I hate the D.C. metro.
• The water is fantastic. I live in a crumbling old Soviet apartment but can simply open the tap, fill a glass, and drink heartily. It doesn't taste weird and it hasn't affected my digestive system. Georgian spring water is bottled and sold in the region, so if you're in the neighbourhood I recommend it!
• You can see the country developing before your eyes. Alongside evidence of 70 years of Soviet rule, a devastating civil war, a revolution, and a recent spanking by Russia, there are modern buildings, public art, revamped institutions, happy people, new investment, rampant enthusiasm for life, and an increasingly loud civil society. The entire country seems to be trying its hardest to modernize and globalize - and wants the world world to notice. It's an incredible atmosphere to live in.
• More than one Georgian has told me about the dramatic change in the police force. After the 2003 revolution, the new government fired the entire police force, changed its culture and mandate, brought on foreign consultants, and radically altered the public perception of its officers. Where once policemen and women were not to be trusted, victimizing innocent civilians through "fines" (forced bribes) and in bed with criminals, patrol officers are now the second most trusted figures in Georgia (second only to the patriarch, the head of the Georgian Orthodox Church). Georgian children want to grow up to be police officers, and Georgians themselves no longer fear calling the police if they need help. It's heartening, and admirable.
• The fact that I've found myself getting a little protective and emotional over the country and its people. The South Ossetian War was a mere three years ago, and thinking about the people I know being put in harm's way, being afraid, evacuating, hearing rumors of an invasion of Tbilisi... it upsets me. It upset me too, in a very surprising way, to discover that one of my favourite students used to be in the Soviet army. The thought of him being the "enemy" during the Cold War, of men like him potentially being at the forefront of another world war... I don't know if there's a word for the feelings it brought up in me. Maybe there isn't one in English - is there a word for fearing something that could have happened, but didn't, while simultaneously understanding the smallness of the world and the oneness of humanity? 

Ack, sorry, I promised fun, not deep thoughts. Here's one last thing that absolutely delights me:

This is Mikheil "Misha" Saakashvili, current President of Georgia and leader of the 2003 revolution. He's a very theatrical figure, and there are a stack of amusing anecdotes about his antics. (There are also a stack of not-so-amusing criticisms of his abuse of government power in the name of the revolution, and hypocrisy when it comes to current Georgian opposition protests. But I digress.) 

Anyway, this video is of a press conference he held in October, to promote the seaside city of Batumi as an alternative to other Black Sea resorts. He had just completed a 3.5km swim in the sea (alongside the mayor of Tbilisi and an old man in a woman's bathing cap), and so popped out of the water clad only in his bathing suit (to compete with Putin, one imagines), whipped out an iPad, and started comparing the weather of rival resorts to that of Batumi, emphasizing that the humidity is lower there and that in Georgia you can swim from May to November, and even head into the mountains later that same day for some skiing. 

He did all this while heroically sucking it in. What a boss.