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. 

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.

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.