Mivdivart Batumishi!

There is no way around it. Blogging generally translates to “talking incessantly about myself” and being so self-centered publicly makes me feel a bit awkward, but so be it. Here is just a (long – sorry about that) post about what and how I've been doing lately.

I've been here just over a month now and it's been a total roller coaster of emotions. Everything I feel is amplified ridiculously here, but it all comes with the territory of adjusting to a new place. I'm glad that I am introspective enough to know this and be able to talk myself down when a freak out begins to emerge. None of it is ever as terrible as it feels, and it always passes.

With that being said, the last two weeks were both the best and worst time I've had here so far. Two weeks ago, my group gathered in Batumi. It was great, but returning to my village was so difficult. That week back, I was sick, went to the clinic, missed home intensely and felt like such a disappointment to my host family for not speaking better Georgian. It was by far my toughest week here.

But aware that my emotions were especially heightened by the situation, I took a deep breath and resolved to turn things around. And then I had my best week here. I made a concerted effort to learn some more Georgian, I spent more time with the children, learned new games, helped Ana with cooking and cleaning, and suddenly, I was feeling like part of the family. I even start to miss their endless questioning and attention seeking when I'm out of the house.

And just this weekend, my group and I went to Batumi again for a little excursion. Batumi is 4 hours west

Batumi is on the lower west coast, while I live 30 minutes east of Kutaisi in the center of the country.

 of Zestaponi. It is an up and coming beach resort; even Donald Trump has taken interest and begun investing (don't know if that's actually a good thing). We stay at a hostel each time, a nice place with free wifi, warm showers, free washing machine and soap, and occasionally air conditioning – pretty glamorous compared to what I'm now used to.

Stainless glass window in the Madea park

This time, 14 of 15 met at the hostel. These weekends are usually filled with booze and laughter and relief. It's always such a refreshing break to be around native English speakers who don't need to be spoken to in simplified English. My brain thanks me every time.

Not sure what this building was, but it looked great.

Dancing fountains at the park

Chillin in the Black Sea.

Alphabet tower and the Ferris wheel on the promenade

Every night was a great time. We hit the discotheque, ate great food, explored the parks, and lounged by the Black Sea. We met a traveling doctor without borders and a guy with a mullet. My favorite was the 21^st century hippie in the midst of an epic romance. He had been traveling India with the love of his life, but had run into challenges and ended things. Now he was passing through, on his way to Tbilisi to reunite with the woman he so loved. We wished him luck and he blessed our journey. But by far, our best night was the last. The night seemed to be on the verge of being washed out by the summer storm that refused to cease. Still looking for some trouble to get into, we hustled through the drizzle, intent on finding our friends who sat having a drink in some unknown bar.

Sketchy little bar, Gold Bar 1.

At last, we found the landmark by which they guided us and our eyes scanned the signs, in search of the “Gold Bar.” Imagine my concern when this is what we found. But alas, an adventure is what we sought so after probably too brief consideration, we descended into the sketchy little hole in the ground.

To no one's surprise, we were enveloped by a sheet of hot humid smoke; just the type of place my mama tells me not to go. But the music boomed, and our friends' smiling faces greeted us. And then, in this dingy little smoke filled excuse for a bar, the beauty of the Georgian spirit welcomed us. In an instant, tables were joined and drinks were in our hands. In a matter of moments, the Georgian women had us on our feet, dancing, hooting and hollering, hugging and kissing us, exuding the joy that I've come to love of the people here. And once we were all good and sweaty and smiling, we were directed to our seats, as a lovely woman emerged from the back with a guitar in hand. Casually, she pulled up a stool at the head of our table and settled her guitar in her lap and then, began strumming a charming Georgian tune. Her thick voice singing along beautifully. We all clapped and cheered and showered her with praise.

Then she said in Georgian, “Now a national Megrulian song.” She stood and moved her stool in front of my friend's recording camera, stared into the lens and began plucking at the strings. A melancholic lament escaped the instrument and silence fell over the room. And then a haunting voice. I couldn’t help but have flashbacks of 'La Lollora,' her voice so heavy with sadness and memories. I cannot tell you what her words said, but her rendition spoke of mourning and longing and all of our heads cocked slightly to the side in compassion. The video will certainly fall short of the experience we shared, but I promise to add it to this blog as soon as I can get my hands on it.

Georgian Songstress, serenading our table.

And so we wrapped up our stay in Batumi, with music and friends. I rode home alone in silence the next day, as I like to do after a weekend that has given me so much to ponder. I loved my time with my friends, but I'm happy to report, everyone missed me here at home, and I missed them and our day has been lovely. The wait until our next adventure will seem short, I'm sure.

The Things.

The things I've observed:

• Every road looks like a game of Mario Kart. Everyone drives like hell! I think it's some weird machismo manifestation that serves no one but the funeral industry. Seriously, that card of a Christian icon you have in your rear view mirror is not going to save us from your shitty driving.
• Perception of danger is limited. There seems to be a general invincibility complex; from crossing the street to letting kids play with knives, people for the most part seem to feel like they're made of steel.
• There is some serious national pride. Everyone will tell you that Georgia was the first in everything and anything you can imagine. From wine, to dance, to humans on earth, Georgians claim to have been the first.
• Georgians are hospitable to a fault, wonderful, joyful, generous people.
• The women deserve more credit than they get here, but hasn't that been true in every culture in all of history, everywhere?

The things I refuse to go without:

• A daily shower, even if each one is with ice cold water, we'll see how this changes when it starts to get cold.
• Clean undies, even if for some uncontrollable reason, I can't shower, I'll be damned if I wear the same dirty panties twice!
• Deodorant – need I say more.
• Internet – I can manage days on end without it, but I'm like a junky; eventually, I need my fix.
• A phone. Luckily, they've given us one to use in country. I speak wot someone from my group at least once a day, which helps me cope.
• Shaving my legs and pits – for now...

Things I'll miss:

• a flushing toilet. Ours has to be flushed by pouring a bucket of water down it. It's awkward when you have to go and there's no running water. If it's yellow, let it mellow, I guess.
• My family and friends. That's a no brainer.
• Cereal! Cereal! Cereal! My primary food group in the states. I miss a nice cold bowl of delicious Honey Bunches and 2%. Oh, how I miss this.
• Driving – it's kind of my solace, but we're not aloud to drive here because it's too dangerous.
• A real bed – I sleep on a wire cot, my back is killing me!
• Air conditioning. I get it on occasion when I travel, but at home it just doesn't exist.
• Flat ironing my hair... :(
• Simply understanding what is being said at any given time.

Things I just cannot understand:

• They've still got quite an antiquated view of the role of women.
• Sexual suppression -- women are expected to remain virgins until marriage, and any display of affection automatically raises eyebrows. Even hand holding is frowned upon until there is an official proposal.
• Dating – whole different ball game here.
• Why drinking is so socially acceptable. Men just sit around drinking all day while the women do all the work. Given, this isn't true in every family, especially not mine, but in many families, it is.
• They're view and treatment of western women – A post to come dedicated solely to gender roles, dating and western women.