“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! :)