A Curious Dream

“`Oh, I've had such a curious dream!' said Alice, and she told her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers that you have just been reading about...”

I am sitting in a hostel in Tbilisi, gorging on internet and hot showers, but not feeling the same gratifying sense of indulgence that I've felt every time before this, the dread of returning to the village after a great weekend no longer looming.

You see, this time, I rode to Tbilisi in silence, scrolling through the memories in my heart; melancholic, happy, and sad about the knowledge that this time there would be no marsh ride, precariously postponed until the very last possible moment of the Sunday evening, back to the village.

I said my goodbyes last week, tears shed, gifts exchanged, and heartfelt 'thank yous' delivered. I am ready to go home after much uncertainty, waffling, and reconsidering. I had a pretty good thing going here, despite how different it was from home. But alas, the recurring lesson is that all good things must come to an end.

I wonder if one day I will get tired of doing this, falling in love with a place and a time, only to uproot and do it all over again in a different place and time. I wonder if one day, I will come to a point where I have simply collected too many of these deeply personal experiences that I no longer will be able to share myself fully with others. Lot's of things, I wonder, but in the meantime, I am honestly excited for the next phase of life and the for the times when I will sit alone, smiling to myself as I remember my adventures, like a curious dream.

I'm Coming Home!!!

First, all the songs that I can think of that have to do with what comes next: Coming Home!!!

I wish I had written regarding this sooner, some of you might have had some helpful thoughts to contribute, but alas, as is my style, I procrastinated and am just now getting around to sharing my experience in deciding what comes next.

It was truly a difficult decision. Things were lining up for me here quite well: a new home with lovely accommodations closer to school, after school paid private lessons, familiarity with the area, and at last, Georgian friends and a boy to boot. The pros were enticing, but in the end it was the thought of all the people I love back home proved to be a greater pull on my heart. I'm coming home. And it's a good thing too because the program is being reduced and I probably wouldn't have been able to stay another 6 months anyway.

I'm nervous though. I don't have a job yet, or a place of my own to stay. I don't know where I'll be next, and I fear that those I left behind will have moved on without me. But I guess these are all concerns I'd have to deal with sooner or later anyway.

In the meantime, I'm excited to get reacquainted with my life. I can only imagine the reverse culture shock I'm going to feel – no longer will I be able to talk vulgar unabashedly without those around me understanding; “Ra Ginda, Gogo?!” will mean nothing anymore, and I won't have to plan my days around whether or not the water and power are running. I'll even have to start showering everyday again... weird.

And while I will deeply miss those that have marked my life here in Georgia (locals and westerners alike), I am revving and ready to go for the next challenge. 

Vergavige! Arvitsi Kartuli!

As is my nature, I do a lot of things by myself. I have never relied on others to get things done and it thrills me to do things for myself that are intimidating. And in Georgia, for me, simply buying a coffee gets my heart racing a bit faster. What if the waiter strays from the casual pleasantries? What if they try to rip me off? What if I say something wrong? Gah!

And the stress is for good reason, I usually pass for Georgian here. Often the older ladies are skeptical of me, unsure if I'm really a foreigner, or perhaps a Russian spy posing as a foreigner. Generally, the appearance works in my favor, as I enjoy general anonymity. This is particularly true on marshrutka rides, and in general when I'm around Georgian men, as they seem much more likely to leave me alone when they are unaware that I'm a Westerner. So when I am able to complete the task at hand without needing to have anything explained or without having to interact too much with others, this works fine for me.

It's when people ask me questions, thinking I'm a local that things get awkward. Apparently, the few words I do know, I deliver with a fairly accurate accent, and more than once, I've fooled a local, only to be revealed as a fraud 2 seconds later when I must reply to additional inquiries with Ver Gavige, Arvitsi Kartuli! or I don't understand, I don't know Georgian.

After five months of immersion, I'm red-faced embarrassed to admit I don’t' speak nearly as much Georgian as I should. I've learned the necessary basics to have my needs met: me minda [I want], arminda [I don't want], satchmeli [food], mivdivart [I'm going], sada.... [where is...], and a few variations (I know more than these few phrases, of course, but you get my gist).

Basically, I know enough to find my way around, to buy what I want, and to eat. My host family and I communicate swimmingly, pantomimes and charades, galore! But really, I haven't had a need to really learn the language. My co teachers, unlike those of some of my friends, actually speak English (who'd have thunk)! The Boy (please refer to previous entryfor details), also speaks enough English, and weekends, I generally spend with English speaking friends, who, together with their shared knowledge of Georgian, we have the communication capacity of a 4 year old, at best.

The language is also not very practical. Only Georgians speak Kartuli, and the country is no bigger than South Carolina – probably has a smaller population, too. Even it's neighbors speak entirely different languages. I say this because when I went to Armenia, I kept thinking of all the things I could say or ask to find my way around, only to immediately realize, no one knows wtf I'm saying!

Now, I realize that English is not, by any means, an easy language to learn; I have mad respect for anyone who knows it as a foreign language. But, at least it makes sense. Or maybe it doesn't really make sense, but at least there's a rule to site whatever strange grammatical situation. With Georgian, holly shit, there are no rules. At least, it really truly feels that way.

To start, I had to learn an entirely new alphabet. Take a look at it, it's quite a lovely alphabet, I think; but at least 6 of the 36 letters, I can hardly distinguish their sounds. Two P sounds, two K sounds, two T sounds, and two Ts sounds, of which the last four all sound the same to my amateur ear. And don't even get me started on the letters that make sounds I cannot even imitate! A Georgian's favorite pass time is having me pronounce each letter and then laughing at me: “Listen. T, T, T. It's in the throat! It's in the throat!” they say. Yea, easy for you to say, Georgian! Now, you pronounce Th! Th, Th, Th. Eh? Not so easy, is it, Georgian? Not so easy... And then I breathe deeply and wait for my heart rate to slow and the blood flow to return to my clenched fists... (but not really, though, teehee).

My biggest and most ignorant frustration is the fact that most words don't have a direct translation. This is a dumb thing to stress about, because I logically understand that only concepts or meanings really translate. But alas, I'm as ethnocentric as anyone, and I often find myself thinking “how could you not have a word that means exactly what I want to say?!”

As for the actual grammatical structure of the language, it's really quite difficult to follow. Here's what I do understand. There seems to be no infinitive form for most words; one cannot say to eat or to go. In Georgian, there is only past, present, and future form. Sounds simple enough. Except each word has 7 forms. You cannot simply say eat to communicate your desire or need to eat. You must add one of the 7 prefixes or a suffixes to a root verb in order for it to make sense and actually be a recognizable word. For example, to express that I will be going to Tbilisi, I would need to say “Mivdivart Tibilshi;” this would change if I were expressing that you are going to Tbilisi: “Midikhart Tibilshi;” or he/she/it is going to Tbilisi: “Midis Tibilshi” Do you see where a whole bunch of the English form was conjugated in the Georgian form?

Additionally, word order doesn't really seem to matter in most cases, from what I have figured out. To say I am Klara, I can say Me var Klara, but Klara var will do must as well. This is a simple example,, but I think it applies in most cases.

It is also quite a trip for me that mother is deda and father is mama.  The hardest word for me to learn was teacher, which is ironic cause I hear the word ALL of the time: mastsavlobeli. My favorite word is Shakuarebuli, or lover cause it has a sweet meaning rather than a dirty one like in English. I also enjoy using mets instead of me too; this one, I'll be using long after I'm back in the states. And by far, I get the greatest kick out of Yea, boy -- ho, bitcho! How fantastic is that?!?! Ho and Bitch in reference to men? How fitting! ;)

Now, I apologize because I am well aware that this is a horrible explanation of the language, but the truth is, I have a horrible understanding of it. All I know is that I just ordered two shawarmas and some cokes all on my own in Georgian, and that's good enough for me!

On The Topic of Fall

In step with my last entry (less about romance, more about autumn), let me tell you about my trip to a magical land they call Mestia!

Mestia, those are the Svan towers there.

Mestia, or Svaneti, as it is also known, has been at the top of my Must-Do List from the moment I arrived in this blessed little land of Georgia. You can follow the link to the wiki-page for a more thorough history of it (cause, let's be honest, we all believe what wiki says), but here's my experience of the place.

I've never seen this many colors in nature!

I really should have made more of an effort to go during the summer, when I had nearly 100 (more like 60, but still) days of nothing to do. It would have been nice to do more hiking and exploring. But alas, as my procrastinating self would have it, I waited until it began to get cold.

Thankfully, while it was a very short trip, the timing turned out to be great. With fall dawning, the scenery all the way there was literally breathtakingly picturesque, literally. This is about to be a pathetic run-down of what I know about Svaneti, but here you go: Svaneti is the highest inhabited point in all of Georgia. Svaneti also claims to be home to the highest mountain of the caucuses (a claim I have learned to be false; the point is Mount Elbrus and is actually located in Russia. In truth, you can only see it from Georgia, but in true Georgian spirit, they claim it anyway).

Svaneti was so isolated and recluse for so many years that during the Turkish-Ottoman times, when Georgia was conquered by Turkey, many relics and important artifacts from pre-Christian times were stashed away here, in the belief that the region would be too recluse to be found and too inhospitable to be conquered. Many of these remain here, but sadly I didn't get a chance to seek them out.

The Svan towers were built primarily as look-out points, in case of invasions. Eventually, and I think still, they are used for food to last into the harsh winters. Additionally, (I learned from my host sister who is very intelligent and knowledgeable about Georgia), the towers create a barrier from the snow rolling down the mountains. This barrier allows for a relatively snow-less area to gather; also apparently the towers are quite warm in comparison. I was there in early fall and I can tell you, it was SOOO cold (for a Southern Californian).

Ushba Glacier, that we never reached.

Due to their unique geographical location, Svaneti, to this day retains it's own sub-culture, to some degree. And while all Svanis speak Kartuli (or Georgian), they have also preserved Svanuri, a spoken dialect, very different from Kartuli.

At a resting point. We almost look superimposed.

We spent only 1 night here and we did some intense hiking while we could. We tried to get to the Ushba Glacier in this picture, but failed pathetically. Although, with a good attitude and a pair of local youths to guide the way, we found the top of a spectacular looking point. It took us nearly 3 hours to get up and a bit less than 2 to come back down. My body ached for days, but it was absolutely worth it.

On our way back, a taxi-friend of ours hooked it up with a free ride, a few apples, and a guided tour. It was fantastic. I took as many pictures as I could, but honestly, they just don't do the majesty of it all justice. Anyway, there are more pictures on FB, if you're interest. What I know for sure is I want more autumns in my life. What I fear is that no autumn in my future will live up this one. 

Misadventures in Armenia!

At the start of September, I visited Armenia!!! The whole ordeal was a badly planned, but well timed adventure, and my friends and I kept good attitudes through most of it. In the end, the trip was a success and I saw most of the major attractions I'd hoped to visit.

If you've seen the pictures on my FB, you'll know there was plenty to see, more than enough to taste, and too much to do. But if I were writing Armenia's marketing slogan, it'd simply say: “Armenia: beautiful art and beautiful women, sometimes at the same time.” I think the slogan has potential, no?

Seriously, though. there were endless smells and flavors and emotions to experience, but during most of my time in Armenia, there was the underlying emotion of insecurity. Kim Kardashian is not the exception, yo (although, it's debatable how Armenian she really is)! Here I am in my baggy, dusty, cargo pants, beat up Toms, and loaded backpack while these women prance around in 4 and 5 inch heels and full on glam... at freaken NOON! I'm not hating though, it only made me long for my own days as a girly-girl.

Cascade and my three partners in crime.

And then there was the art on public display. We visited a place called the Cascade, a FREE modern art gallery in Yerevan, the capital. Inside and out, this place was remarkable. Check out my pictures, my words simply won't do it justice – in fact, neither will the pictures, but what do you want from me?

This was one of my favorites. Ji Yong-Ho, 1978.

Hand made crafts at the Yerevan flee market

We also spent some time at the Yerevan flee market. This was one of my favorite things, even though I was as intimidated as a nun in a brothel. Bargaining is not my forte; I hate feeling like I'm ripping someone off, even if the one that ends up being ripped off is me. I did buy some cool souvenirs and took tons of pretty cool pictures (considering I have no skill at it – goes to show how cool the place really was).

1924, the bottle says, and I tasted it!

Also in Yerevan, we embarked on a [literally] intoxicating tour of the Noy Brandy Factory, which takes it's name from the biblical story of Noah and his ark, as Armenians believe the ark's final destination was in Armenia, where Noah descended with grapes in hand. This was also among my favorite things, mainly because we got to have a tasting of an 88 year old wine! The company no longer produces wine, only brandy, but they offer a taste of this special wine to guests. If sold, a bottle of this particular 88 year old wine would easily sell for more than $4,000USD. And if I could describe the taste to you! Like honey! My mouth waters just thinking of it. And to continue the mood, my travel bud and I bought ourselves a bottle of wine, some chocolate, and some nail polish, then ventured to the highest point in Yerevan and closed the night with toasts, music, and introspection – Rebel Youth style.

Giant barrels of fermented happiness... :)

The remnants of our night.

We spent most of our time exploring Yerevan, a remarkable little city, on par with any European city, modern and easy to navigate. However, considering how tiny Armenia really is – even smaller than Georgia – it was a shame we had so many failed attempts at exploring it further. Armenia is only about the size of Maryland, 5% of which is covered by a fresh-water lake, and it has a population of just over 3 million.

As our last day in Armenia neared, we tried to shake the feeling of frustration and defeat. We had so badly hoped to see as much of Armenia as possible, and while we met wonderful people all along our stay in Yerevan, disappointment lingered. And then, like two misfit blessings, our little Estonian Angels descended upon our hostel and suddenly, our luck changed!

Garni, site of Greco-Roman Ruins dating back to the first  century.

Jurii and Ragart arrived a day before we departed and immediately befriended me and my travel companion. It didn't take long before they graciously invited us to share their taxi the next morning to Geghard and Garni – one, an ancient monastery, and the other, the site of ancient Greco-Roman ruins, likely built in the First Century! Exactly what we'd hope to see! And so, without a second thought, we agreed. Needless to say, the experience was breathtaking and the wonderful company only enhanced the excitement! I could never have imagined the sense of self-meaninglessness that one could experience in the presence of such history and pure awesomeness. Such was the beauty of those sites we beheld, and still time has gone on, and the history of those people and their victories and their defeats have become only legends for our musing. The passing of time is mind-blowing really. And here I sit now, reminiscing on my trip, memories only made sharper by a few good pictures, and time still persists.

Inside Geghard Monastery

Sevanavank Monatery, 9th Century.

And as if these stops were not awesome enough, upon our departure from Armenia later that same day, our driver offered to stop at the third and final destination we had hoped to visit, Lake Sevan, the largest body of fresh water in Armenia and one of the largest high altitude fresh water bodies in the world, occupies 5% of the countries land. And at the top of the hill sat Sevanavank Monastery, or the Island Monastery as it is otherwise known, standing since the 9^th Century . Breathtaking.

Lake Sevan

And with that, we made our merry little exhausted way back to Georgia, happy to be home. The experience was all around, a great one, but as an Honorary Georgian (only in my own head), I couldn't help but compare the two little countries, who's people share an international relationship akin to a pair of competitive siblings. Both countries claim a lot of firsts, both have an intense pride in their history and in their people, and both extend such a level of hospitality to visitors that can only be described as “God's will.”

Also, both countries were part of the Soviet Union and gained their independence in the same era. Yet, each has their own distinctive language, with it's own distinctive alphabet – an Armenian tour guide told us that a man created an alphabet with 60-some letters, he chose the prettiest ones and so came to be the Armenian alphabet. Of the remaining ugly 36, he gave those to Georgia. The Geography is unnoticeable different, and yet even their foods are nothing alike. The entire time though, I couldn't help thinking that if the two weren't so proud, they might actually make a great single country.

But alas, I guess the fight over who was the first to produce wine will always maintain the two divided.

Anthology, Part II

I owe any one who actually checks in periodically with this sham of a blog an apology. Considering how much I've been up to, it's been inexcusably too long since I've bothered my silly little head with composing anything, if you allow my ego to indulge by calling it so.

In truth, I have no good reason for my blogging absence, I simply find it inexcusably difficult to find the motivation to write. My only explanation is that I remain in denial about anyone actually having interest in my thoughts and experience, perhaps only because my ego is a masochist.

It's a shame, really. I mean, putting a descent, usually coherent sentence together is the only thing I know how to do half well. And I'm in the midst of living out some of my dreams! You'd think that would light my fire, right. But alas, as my adventures here, much too quickly come to a close, I find my thoughts begging to be documented in some self indulging form. So, here you have, Part II of my anthology of tall tales.

“You Know That Game, Drunken Mario Kart?”

 “Well no, Katie dear. I do not know that game, Drunken Mario Kart, but I think I see where this is going, and I like it!” is what I would say if I were back in the states.

Actually, that was the way my friend chose to describe the driving culture here in Georgia. And I'd say that it's pretty spot on. It's like a game of drunken Mario Kart, that good old Nintendo 64 classic, complete with vengeful conductors, road blocks, a complete disregard for safety and traffic rules, and more than occasionally, a bit of alcohol to boot.

When we signed our teaching contracts way back in September, the staff made a point of reminding us that driving ourselves was strictly prohibited. Of course, I thought “WTH? I do what I want!” It felt limiting; public transportation doesn't run late and many of our families don't have family cars. Besides, I've always found driving to be a bit of a meditative experience for me, music blasting, coasting down the I-15 at a reckless speed of 80 MPH. “Pfff,” that's what I thought of that. “I do what I want!”

It took no more than one quick outing to the center of Tbilisi to understand this caveat of our contract and suddenly, I was thinking, “Touché, TLG. Tou-ché .” You know how you watch those TV shows of people driving in Italy? Or when you cross the border into Tijuana and suddenly you know that you've entered a life-or-death driving situation? Yea, Georgia is like that, but raised to the 8^th power.

I don't know if the driving style has some correlation with the patriarchal culture, but it's one theory (that I just made up right now). In my perspective, driving here is like a test of your machismo. Are you really going to let that guy pass you up? Is that puny car really going to beat you to the stop light? Will that car, in the correct lane, barreling towards at high speeds and shining it's high beams at me as I try to pass up another car scoot over to let me through? These are actual regular scenarios! Lanes are literally a mere suggestion. I swear, I am not embellishing to make things more exciting, I have literally seen a 2 lane highway turned into a 4 lane. Literally. And it seems that traffic enforcement is not a high priority, understandably so. One thing at a time; Georgia deserves massive praise for what it has accomplished in so few years in terms of order and accountability in all respects of public enforcement.

For those who are able to sleep in a car, I envy you. Every ride, I am praying to a God that may or may not exist; at that moment, every time, I tell myself I'm a believer. Which is also what the drivers tell themselves. Every vehicle, without fail, displays a small alter of saint trading cards, and crosses, and other religious paraphernalia. Sure, Georgia, you keep telling yourselves that your protected from your own shitty driving because you do the sign of the cross every time you drive by a church. Don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking their beliefs or devotion, I'm just saying, you can't leave all the work to the saints.

So, you wonder, how do get around without your very own car? Well, there's these lovely things called marshrutkas, or death cabs, if you will – your preference. The word marshrutka, I have been told, is derived from the Russian language. These novelty items are our main form of public transportation. Basically, they are large passenger vans, altered to transport infinity people! I have counted about 16 actual seats on most marshes, but I have counted MANY more people actually riding in one. Obviously, there are no seat belts, and the ails are fair game for standing space; as long as the door shuts, we're good. Needless to say, marshrutka rides aren't always the most pleasant. They're hot, and often crowded, and you always pray you're not sitting next to the person with bad B.O.. And let us not forget the driving techniques; you'd think that with a car load of other people's lives in their hands, these marsh drivers would be a little less risky.

Anyway, all marshrutkas (generally) have a set route. This may be a short route within the given city or village, or it may be a longer route, from one city or village to another. I've taken both. The intercity ones range from 30 Tetri to 80 Tetri (which I think is about $0.20 to $0.50 US). While the city to city ones range depending on your distance. Some are very well outfitted, others look like they're left over from Soviet times and are motored like the Flintstone's cars. They get the job done, though and for that I am grateful. However, unlike buses that have set stops, a marsh works a bit like a taxi in the sense that it can be flagged down just about anywhere, and can be asked to drop of in the same manner, just yell gacharet!! to the driver, and voilà! Like magic.

While I miss driving, the meditation and independence it provides, I am happy to leave it to the pros here. So far, so good. Wish me luck, I'm headed out for a 3 hour marsh drive right now! :)