To be continued...

The time has come for me to say goodbye to Georgia, and somehow, I'm asking myself where the time went. Those cold winter days definitely moved at a snail's pace, but like every experience that comes to an end, you can't believe that you finally made it. I'm leaving Akhmeta tonight at midnight to catch my 4:40 a.m. flight, and after a solid 27 hours of travel (fingers crossed for delay-free travels) I will be back in the good ole U.S. of A. 

Although I'm beyond excited to return home, Georgia was good to me and there are definitely things I'm going to miss...Marshutka rides, horn honking hellos, cow and sheep herd crossings, the local draft (yes, I'm referring to beer), the nature, my celebrity status, fellow volunteers, and most of all, my Georgian family. These are just a few things, and some things, although I may not miss them, I will look back on them with fond memories and smile...Power outages, GMT (Georgia maybe time), constant stareing, forced feedings, irregular showering, roosters at any hour of night, skype dates and my bed :).

I've packed a lifetime of travel and memories into five months, so I will have many stories to share with you even after my return home...including my trip to Turkey and Greece, my cousin's wedding, various Georgian moments, and traveling cross-country for a week with my dad and Duke (you know this one is gonna be good :)

I don't know how to quantify this experience as it will be one that continues to teach me for a lifetime. I'm sure I've grown as a person (after all, I did celebrate my birthday here :) but only time, and the opinion of others, will tell. I'd like to thank you all for your love, support and encouragement throughout my time in the former USSR. Your outreach kept me sane and allowed me to feel like I was still a part of back home. And Georgia...you're a tiny little beast that will forever hold a place in every corner of my heart. It was nice to meet you, to know you, and to love you. I'm ready to go home, but I'm not ready to say goodbye. So for now… didi madloba (thank you very much!)

I beat Lani at her own beer game !

sheep crossing

TLG GROUP 11 !

Living Georgia.

I haven't written in awhile as I've been sucked into the life of Georgia and everything it has to offer. Although it may not seem like it based on all of my fascinating stories :) life here is a bit on the slow side. Nonetheless, it's about time I let you all in on my daily life and who I spend most of my weekly time with.

My town of Akhmeta is in the northeast corner of Georgia, and just beyond my view of the Caucuses is Chechnya. I'm surrounded by mountains and hills, vineyards and pastures, which all make for beautiful scenery, cold winters, and rainy springs. Aside from teaching at School No. 1, I spend a lot of my time with my host mom, Iza, and her co-workers/friends. Iza is the Executive Director at KRDF (an NGO funded by UNHCR) that assists Chechen refugees and internally displaced persons (IDP) in the nearby Pankisi Gorge. Her office is just down the street from school, so everyday I walk there, have lunch with the staff, and then help Fati, the office coordinator, write English translations for their reports, educational materials, and even email responses. Fati has been my translator for me since I arrived, so it's really only fair that I provide the favor in return. We've become very good friends...seeing as she's the only person I can really talk to...and although she speaks English fairly well, it's still difficult to write. I mean, it's difficult for native English speakers, think of how it is for ESLers :) She translates from Georgian to the word she wants to use, but it's not always the most modern word for her meaning. So we need to discuss the message she's trying to deliver and then choose the right phrasing. Sounds simple but it's actually quite the brain workout between two people who speak very different languages. However, she's keeping me on my toes.

me and fati.

One of KRDF's main projects is the activity center in Duisi Village, located in Pankisi Gorge where the refugees live. Extremely brief history...Pankisi was once a base for rebels, some linked to al Qaeda, in the late 90's early 2000's, during their war with Russia, and the Georgian government had very little control over this area. It was definitely a "do not travel" zone, and I recently found out that the Peace Corp volunteers in Georgia are still not allowed to go there. Anyway, it has since been "cleaned up" and is where most of KRDF's projects are implemented. The Duisi center offers educational and skills classes to the school children and local community to help develop this very poor area. So once a week, I go to Pankisi (which is about 15 minutes from my house) and teach an additional English course to the more advanced students that are interested in the extra help. I mainly teach 12th graders preparing for the national exams...such a great group of hardworking kids. And after that, I teach a beginner English class to the staff, but unfortunately it didn't always happen due to their many other responsibilities at home. They are a great group of women, always making me laugh which is impressive since their English is slim to none. For both classes I worked with the staff English teacher, Marina, and she always made me feel more than welcome. Pankisi is one of the most beautiful places here so sometimes I tag along with Iza and Fati just for the drive...yes, this is my source of entertainment and totally worth it when we get stuck behind a herd of sheep or pass the neighborhood cows meeting in the alley.

driving in pankisi.

In Akhmeta proper there are three schools and I was the first teacher placed here. About 4 weeks after I arrived, I learned that 2 more teachers from the following group joined me in my little town in the corner! Phil and Cort...my local sanity. Phil is from Liverpool, England, Cort is from Alaska, and together these two lads manage to give me some sort of weekly social life. They live on the other side of town and at least once a week, we gather at the one "cafe" in Akhmeta to have a beer (or two) and speak English as fast as we can. We discuss anything and everything from school strifes to crazy customs, and I always manage to get some sort of world history lesson as these two are like walking wikipedias :) We sit outside in the yellow patio furniture and although it warrants stares and snickering, each others company usually distracts us from the fact that we are on display. It's something we've gotten used to and it's much easier to shrug it off in numbers. The first time we met at the cafe we joked about how it would be the talk of the town and sure enough, the next day in class my students were telling my co-teacher that I was at the cafe with the boys. If there was a local tabloid I'm sure we'd make the cover at least every other week :).

When I arrive home I'm usually greeted by Nana (my host sister-in-law) one or two of my lovely neighbors, and the love of my Georgian life, Lizi :) Lizi is Nana and Giorgi's 11-month-old daughter and she knows how to brighten anyones day. Everyday I pop my head in the kitchen and say "Hi, Lizi!" and she gets the biggest smile on her face and just giggles (I think this earned me points with mom earlier on). She's a happy baby with so much energy and now that its warm she's getting to put it to good use. She just started crawling and can already pull herself up. Today she even stood by herself for about a 1.5 seconds before toppling over! I'm no parent, so I'm not quite sure when kids are suppose to start doing this, but given the cold winter, hardwood floors and lack of heating, there was no way she was allowed to crawl around on the ground when I first got here. And even if she was, she most likely wouldn't have been able to move with all the layers she had on. However, my proudest moment was about a month ago when I came home from school and like every other day, went into the kitchen and said "Hi, Lizi!" except this time, she looked up and said "hi!" I stood there wide eyed and wasn't sure if I heard her right, but when Nana did a 180 and exclaimed "Vaimey!" (the Georgian "OMG") I knew I'd taught this baby something. It'll probably be the only English I get to teach her, but it was a goal of mine and one I can proudly check off my list.

lizi! :)

me and lizi before h. cousin's wedding.

So in short, this is an idea of what daily life is like for me here in Akhmeta. I don't know if I've said it before, but I have a wonderful host family, and my living conditions are quite comfortable (all things considered). I live in a house with modern thinking adults and a baby that steals the attention of everyone in the room (a huge lifesaver at times). I'm given my space and they don't try to show me off, but they always treat me as part of the family and constantly look out for me. I still have many more stories to share and unfortunately the slow life is contagious, but I promise, I'll get to them... even if it is upon my return home. I mean, it's not like I'll have much else to do :).

Teaching more than a subject.

I've been in Georgia for just over three months now, and haven't talked much about the actual reason I'm here...teaching. I've been asked by many, "How's the teaching going?" And for some reason I find that to be a difficult question, so much so that I actually get tongue tied when trying to answer. It would be unfair for me to say that I really understand what goes on when it comes to school and its ongoings, but for a moment, we're going to pretend like I do :).

Here are some basics. My school day starts at 9:30 a.m. and I'm there no later than 2 p.m. Pretty kick ass schedule yet by the end of it, or sometimes right in the middle, I'm exhausted. And I finally realized why...it's a freakin' roller coaster. I teach 3rd grade, two 6th grade classes, and 7th through 12th, all varying in size, skill level, and the desire to actually learn. I work with two co-teachers. One, a self-proclaimed know-it-all who, in her own words, makes no mistakes. And the other, a dear hearted woman doing her best to learn and teach the language at the same time. Every day I greet them and ask them how they're doing and most days I get the same shoulder shrug and "so-so" response. Some days they have "the headache" and just recently they've been "better today." I keep my fingers crossed that the latter response sticks for just awhile longer because eventually the answer will have to turn into "good."

my skola :)

When I first arrived they both seemed excited to have me here because Georgians love guests. Well, it's been three months now and a performance that long gets exhausting. True colors are starting to show and maybe it's my own paranoia, but I think I might be considered more of a government spy than an educational resource at this point. And just as many of the other teachers are warming up to me, one of my co-teaching relationships is now equivalent to a rocky marriage...we're rarely on the same page but we're going to hang in there and wear smiles for the sake of the kids :).  And come June, I'm pretty sure she'll be packing my bags for me. It's definitely trying but I just keep my deep breathes at the ready. My other co-teacher and I have a great relationship, and although there is a larger language barrier there, her kindness makes it much easier to communicate with her. There is absolute truth to how far a warm and genuine smile can go. Now on to the students...

In every class there's at least one that wants to learn. And if its my 6th grade, it's almost all of them :).  Most classes I get the opportunity to lead an exercise, and a couple times have even taught the entire class. I'll never forget the first time I did this and at the end, one of the students came up to me and said, "Reihel, you are a great teacher." If it's been one of those days (or weeks) where I'm pulling teeth to get my students to talk, its definitely brief moments like this that re-engergize me. My 6th graders continue to participate and therefore get the best out of me. They are at that perfect age where it's not too cool to learn and its ok to like your teacher. So its funny that my 7th graders, just one year older, are the exact opposite. I can only imagine what fun they'd have if they were in 6th, but instead they screw around and are lucky if they get a smile, let alone a game of hangman, outta me. Somedays I think its a lost cause with them, but then whose fault is that? Am I not trying enough or are they not? I guess I have five weeks to figure that out!

The 6th and 7th grade are definitely my two extremes. The students that show up to my 11th grade are great and I can actually hold conversations with them...they even brought me a cake on my birthday! Unfortunately school holidays and meetings have been falling on their class days lately so a quick "hello, how are you" is all we've exchanged in weeks. My 8th grade just stares when I speak because they still can't understand me, however I'm managing to teach them "Let it Be" by the Beatles, which always brightens the room when we practice. Gotta love music. And my 3rd grade, well they're just the cutest! Quick to learn and quick to forget, but their love notes and drawings more than make up for it :).

I came here with high hopes, under the impression that I'd be helping a country so desperately wanting to learn my language. I imagined teachers so eager to speak and work with a native in the classroom, and students so excited to develop their speech that they'd listen so intently to every word. And although this does exsist, for me, it mostly comes in doses...and small ones. It never crossed my mind that some might see me as a "threat" or that learning English would be more work than it was worth. I never thought that some might enjoy routine because to them it's security. I never thought that out of 100+ students not ALL of them would have the hard working desire to escape a town, that although poor, is what they've always known. No, these thoughts never crossed my mind. Naive? Maybe. But had I thought these things before, it may have altered my decision to come.

the english classroom.

Last week, we had a meeting with The Minister of Education and Science to discuss the education system, the purpose of our program, and answer any questions we might have. Come to find out, we were brought here to have a social impact on the country as much as we were for our native English speaking ability. As the Minister said, knowing English doesn't make you smarter, it just opens up so many more doors. We are meant to be an example of opportunity and to motivate their youth (which is surrounded by elder generations still stuck in a soviet mentality...some still toasting to Stalin, no joke) to strive for a better life. He was very honest with us and said that we won't be here to see the difference we're making. This is one of the first steps to turning an entire education system upside down and it's going to take years. But one of the biggest contributors to its success will be the introduction of foreign ways that we bring to our towns and those we meet, given that many have never met a non-Georgian before (no pressure!)

There's always resistance to change because staying the same is what's easy, it's just not always good. We were brought here to initiate change, so remembering the positive days (or moments) is what supplies the energy to power through the less than favorable ones. One day I want to change the entire system and then the next, I just hope I did enough to have a positive impact on at least one kid. I go back and forth wondering which is more important and I'm sure I'll never figure it out. So...How's the teaching going? Well, it's work, and like every job it has its ups and downs, road blocks and politics. The best and worst part of it all is that when all is said and done, I get to go home. But my co-teachers and students, they're already there.

When in Armenia...part two!

Saturday we got an early start to visit Garni Temple and Geghard Monastery, but first stopped at Ararat Arch to get a great view of the famous Mt. Ararat. According to the Bible, Ararat is where Noah's Ark came to rest, and is a huge national symbol for Armenia. It is now within the Turkish border, but the Armenians still consider it to be theirs and you can see it everywhere you go in Yerevan. It truly is magnificent.

Mt. Ararat...the ark is said to have landed just to the right
 of the highest peak.

me vs. the mountain.

Next, we visited the fortress of Garni, which dates back to the oldest inhabitations in Armenia and was built in the 1st century. The history here was a bit difficult for me to wrap my head around, especially when things are lost in translation, but I was told that Garni, a Pagan temple, was the first Christian church. Now whether or not the temple became the church, or they were placed next to each other, I’m not quite sure. But Armenia is the first country to adopt Christianity so I guess it makes sense…? This is when the ability to smile, nod, and just enjoy the beauty comes in quite handy. 

Garni Temple.

to the right of the temple is where the church was. it was not
rebuilt after the earthquake(s).

After Garni, we headed further up the mountain to Geghard Monastery, a Catholic church built in the 4^th century and believed to have the Holy Lance that pierced Jesus’ side on the cross. The name of the monastery actually means monastery of the Spear. Parts of the monastery site are built into the mountain, creating cave like rooms, and in the main church there’s a natural spring that is considered to be a fountain of youth…of course I drank from it!

natural spring in the church.

Geghard Monastary.

beauty speaks for itself :)

We’d had enough of the mountain roads and headed back to roam the city, which didn’t get old being the country girls that we are now. Although it was chilly, the sun was out and it was amazing to just stick my face in it! The vitamin D was much needed and having a reason to wear sunglasses was a highlight of the trip (oh, the small things :). Back at the hostel we met other TLG teachers that were in the 2^nd group to arrive in Georgia, and we began to swap stories. It turns out I had read one of their blogs when researching the program…it was like a Georgian celebrity sighting! Continuing on our international food journey, we had pizza for dinner, mmmmm. With fulfilled bellies, we moseyed into about 10 different bars searching for our preferred atmosphere but ended up back at the hostel with a bottle of pomegranate wine, something Armenia is famous for but was really nothing to write home about…although apparently I am, hmph? We finished the night at a disco (club) that played only house music and encountered one too many men wearing white.

Sunday we went on a free walking tour, compliments of our hostel. It was another sunny day and it was nice to finally learn the history of what we had been surrounded by since we arrived. After our tour we ventured into a church, catching the end of a Sunday service, and then finished our food tour with lunch at a well to do Mexican restaurant. We were more than impressed with the quality of food and although it was nothing like back home, those chicken taquitos hit the spot! On our way back to the hostel we topped off our bellies with real fruit smoothies, delish!

our guide telling us about Freedom Square.

taquitos!!!

stoked on smoothies :)

We decided to take the overnight train home on Sunday. This elongated our journey by about eight hours but provided us a place to sleep, saving us money in the end. It was an old Soviet train and we were in an open sleeper car with four beds in each section. We had a section to ourselves right in the middle of the train. The attendant immediately took a liking to us, for no reason other than our ethnicity, as did the other patrons. I think someone walked by every five minutes to “slightly” gawk at the Americans. We did our best to ignore it and continue our conversations over Armenian wine and American peanut butter, however, the lack of tact got annoying and this may have been the first time it got to me, especially when I’d catch the men stretching out of their seats to peer around the corner…that’s just creepy. This is when the language barrier works in our favor and our responses can be a little less filtered :). After two bottles of wine and some Tylenol PM, it was time for bed.

Yerevan's train station.

finger lickin' good. 

Sometime in the four o’clock hour we reached the Armenian border and were woken by the attendant hitting our feet. That’s a sure fire way to get a less than friendly response from your passengers. Border patrol seemed to take their sweet time when they reached the Americans, and being slightly out of it, none of us moved from our beds…it was quite the intimate way to cross a border if you ask me. I fell back asleep for what seemed like an hour (but could've been 15 minutes for all I know) until we reached Georgian border patrol. It was the same song and dance but this time it felt like coming home. We were able to use our Georgian for small talk and one even spoke a little English, which he used to propose to Megan on behalf of his partner who wants to work in America. Although she appreciated the honesty of his intentions, she respectfully declined the offer. This comical interaction pretty much rounded up our first international, international trip.

After 12 hours on a train, it took a three-hour marshutka ride for me to get back to Akhmeta, where I had to go straight to the Municipality building to meet the Mayor and other town officials (which I found out about while in Armenia). Although I’d been there a month, they were officially welcoming me and the other English teachers to the town. I love my town, but living in the farthest corner of the country makes traveling that much more difficult and tiresome. If I want to go anywhere outside of my region, it’s a three hour journey just to get to my starting point. I’ve definitely realized that one of the keys to living here is patience :).

lani...megani...racheli.

When in Armenia...part one!

Georgia celebrated two holidays on the 3^rd and 8^th of March - Mother’s Day and International Women’s day – so my travel partners-in-crime and I decided to turn it into a 6-day weekend and head to Armenia! We started the trip off by heading to T’bilisi on Wednesday night so we could catch the morning marshutka without too much difficulty. The highlight of my night was undoubtedly visiting the local McDonald’s…this may have been my first real sign of missing home. Say what you want about McD’s, but after complete separation from almost everything you’ve ever known, crossing under those golden arches was the closest thing to home I was going to find for awhile, and man how I missed it. Walking up, I was giddy like a 5-year-old who had just convinced their mom to treat them after a hard half day of kindergarten and ABC’s. After entering, I immediately broke into hysterical laughter for no reason other than pure joy, and I couldn’t stop. It was then that I knew I missed hamburgers, I missed French fries, I missed MY food, and I missed home. I absolutely have a new appreciation for this conglomerate (which I had given up at one point in my life) and now understand their international reign. Their global presence is not to fatten the world and make a buck off one fat kid at a time. No, they have spread their existence purely for the sake of those expats that are looking for a break from their new reality, and a taste of home :).

i'm home :)

We spent the night at Lani's family friend's flat...it was beautiful and we were able to walk around in our socks and even sleep without them! We received impeccable hospitality from Nino and her 11-year-old daughter, Tamuna, who both spoke perfect English. Nino, realizing that we've probably had our fill of Georgian food, had quite the international spread ready for our breakfast which included American style donuts and milk for our tea and coffee! It was just after 10 a.m. and we were basking in the warmth of central heating when we decided we should call the marshutka station to make sure the one to Armenia was scheduled to leave at 11 a.m. Nino made the call and was informed that it left at 10:30 a.m. and we were about 20 minutes away from the station! She was able to speak directly to the driver and get him to wait for us. As we hustled to get dressed and collect our belongings, Nino called a cab, packed us some snacks, and in 5 minutes had us out the door. Again, Georgian hospitality to the rescue! We made it just in time without  holding up our traveling comrades, and we took our seats in the back.

It cost 30 Lari each (about $18) for the 5 hour ride, and although bumping around in the back of the bus, it was made nice by the sun-filled mountainous views and nice conversation - which we freely have given that no one can understand us. It took just over and hour to reach the border when the driver stopped, said something in Armenian, and passengers started to get off. We figured we'd just follow the herd when the guy sitting in front of us turned around and said, "he said that you girls should go first since it will take you longer to get the visas."...perfect English. With stunned looks on our faces we said thank you and I began to rack my brain thinking 1) how did I not notice this guy?! and 2) do I need to remove my foot from my mouth for any reason??? It turns out there were two American guys sitting in front of us, both fluent in Armenian, wearing matching slacks, coats and name tags,  and were from Utah...Mormon Missionaries. After exchanging brief introductions we got our passports stamped at the Georgian border and proceeded across the bridge to Armenia. I've never crossed a border on foot before! We were like nomads :) We were the only passengers that had to get visas and this took a good 20 minutes to complete as border patrol was in no hurry.

the infamous marshutka.

The missionaries didn't hover but kept their eyes on us, and not in a creepy way, but in a just in case we need help kind of way. We made it through and continued our journey this time keeping our conversations quieter and sans religious discussion - which I'm fairly certain we touched on earlier. However, this topic became the pink elephant in the marsh and the three of us couldn't help but slip into talk about how religion was involved in our upbringings - the three of us repping Catholicism, Christianity, and Judaism. We kept it as superficial as possible, every minute knowing we were attracting the two sets of ears in front of us. I knew we should stop, as we definitely weren't looking for an awkward conversation, and then I saw it. The Book came out, casually resting on his knee. I immediately looked at Megan with "oh sh!t" eyes and she met me with the same expression. I'm not one to shy away from conversation, but there are definitely topics I steer clear of with strangers and this is one of them... especially when trapped in the back of a marshutka with hours to go and no escape door. Our conversation halted immediately and we feigned sleep. It wasn't until we arrived in Yerevan that the missionaries took their shot talking to us, but were quickly and kindly shot down. 

I don't remember his exact response, but he politely turned around and that was that. I have to say this though, us discussing religion was like holding raw meat in front of a lion. If he hadn't tried to talk to us about his beliefs while on a religious mission, I might have judged him for not doing his job :) jokes aside, you can't blame the guy for trying. And even though he went 0-3, they still offered to help us get to our final destination...given that our Georgian was as valuable as our English here. We had the address and phone number of the friend we were staying with, but our phones didn't work. So they let us use their phone, caught us the right marsh (luckily we were going the same direction as them), told us where to get off, and even paid our fair. We may have different beliefs from them, but kindness is a universal language and we couldn't have been more grateful to them.

We spent our first night in Armenia "couch surfing" with an Iranian expat named Usher. We walked the city streets with him and his friend Nikholi, a New Zealand Swed that is teaching English there through European Volunteer Services. We saw Mother Armenia, a very large statue that over looks the city (used to be a statue of Stalin); Cascade; the Republic Square, where the Marriott is one of the seven major buildings, holding company with the likes of the National Gallery and Government House. Then we enjoyed a traditional Armenian dinner, each dish selected by Nikholi's student, Armon, who works in the Government's Economic department. After dinner, we headed back to Usher's where we didn't have the best night's sleep, so we decided to check into a hostel Friday morning...best decision ever! The hostel was impeccable from the cleanliness, to the staff, to the free coffee, tea, and breakfast, to the free Internet, and fairly quiet patrons. We ran into many other TLG-ers also staying there so it was like a mini reunion :)

clock tower in republic square.

armenian monument.

Friday we visited the genocide museum which was completely new news to me...don't remember learning about that in history class. 75% of the Armenian population was massacred in the early 1900's by the Turkish empire. I won't go into details as I'm definitely not educated enough on the topic, but visiting the museum was quite a moving experience. It was very informative, tactfully displayed, and not overdone. It told it's story and it still amazes me that something like that could happen. After the museum we stumbled into a huge bazaar underneath Yerevan's football stadium. We browsed for a bit and then headed out to dinner. We decided that our first night in Armenia would be dedicated to their traditional cuisine, but since it had been so long since we'd been in an actual city and eaten anything other than Georgian food, it was game on after that! So we had Chinese of Friday, Pizza on Saturday, and Mexican on Sunday! And I will give the Armenians props for doing all three fairly well. We were especially impressed with the Mexican. After dinner on Friday, we hit up a bar called Wild West with a new friend we met at the hostel who invited us to tour some historical churches with him on Saturday.

eternal flame in the genocide monument.

inside the genocide museum.

second genocide monument.

...Given that I write waaaaaay too much :) and it's been awhile since I posted something, I'm going to write about this trip in two posts. So if you're still interested...stay tuned!

No t'chame! A weekend in Telavi.

A few weekends ago I headed to the "city" to meet up with my friends for a weekend of English speaking leisure and eating at my own will. If there's any phrase we foreigners have learned beyond our formal greetings its "t'chame! t'chame!"..."eat! eat!" This is not a suggestion, it's an order...and they mean business. But after almost a month, I think I've figured out the trick to getting by with what your belly can hold:

1. Never help yourself. Always wait for them to offer that way it appears that you're giving in to the request.
2. Eat slowly. Apparently Georgians are known for eating fast so the sooner they're done, the sooner you are too...at half the amount.
3. Absolutely never have an empty plate! If you empty your plate they will fill it up and continue to do so. Once you see dishes are being cleared you've come to the final stretch and can finish what's on your plate. But never be too eager to finish...there's always tea and cake to follow.

Needless to say, it was nice to get away and escape strategic eating for a solid 48 hours. I arrived in Telavi on Friday afternoon and had some much needed catch up time with Megan and Lani (my roommates during training) in our swanky guesthouse (thanks to my host fam's connections), over a bottle of wine (compliments of the President of Georgia:). After a few hours of lounging, we headed down the street and met up with more friends at a local pizza joint. We all ordered pizza and when I asked for mine sans cheese (in Georgian :) the man look slightly perplexed as if I had my Georgian backwards, so Brigid assisted me by busting out some top notch charades - she pointed to me, said the word "cheese", and then threw her hands around her neck as if she were choking...Hilarious! And it worked! The man happily obliged and I had a perfect, no cheese pizza! Our dinner continued with lots of laughs, the occasional visit by an admirer in the next booth, and one of the cheapest dinner bills I've ever seen.

pure awesomeness.

Saturday morning we got an early start and had to bear the first real snowfall we've had since arriving almost 4 weeks ago. It  was nothing but white, and still snowing, so we layered up the clothing and headed out to visit King Erekle's Castle, an 18th century Kakheti King. We trudged through inches of snow as I cursed my jacket's detachable hood that was sitting on my couch back home in Akhmeta. We were the first guests of the day and after paying a whopping 1 Lari admittance fee had a private tour of the King's throne room, his office, and the room he was born in and died in. The woman escorting us from room to room didn't speak any English so Lani's Russian came in very handy...as it does on most occassions.

After quickly touring the castle, they motioned for us to go upstairs to the museum. We saw a lot of artifact-like stuff and I have no clue as to what most of it was, but it was really old, therefore pretty cool...my, how my standards are shifting :). Actually, Georgia is one of the first countries to adopt Christianity back in the 4th century, so there was quite the abundance of religious history there as well. We moved through the museum fairly quickly as there wasn't much lighting and absolutely no heat. My toes were partially numb at this point. We headed back downstairs and then outside where they motioned for us to go to the next building to see the art museum. So we hustled through the snow and came to a building with more light but just as little heat.

We were greeted by a Georgian woman, who to our suprise and delight, spoke English! Not only did she speak English but she had recently returned from visiting her son in Texas. We chatted with her for a few minutes and after she briefly talked about the art collection, she left us to tour the rooms. The art was lovely (I think) but at this point my feet and hands were completely frozen and although I tried to act interested, my mind could only focus on getting out of there with proper circulation. I believe the woman escorting us could see the look of hypothermia building on our faces because as we hurried down the stairs she called out to someone. When we reached the bottom, our English speaking friend appeared from a small room underneath the stairs and invited us in to warm up before we headed back into the snow. Without hesitation we followed her into a quaint little room where there were four other women and a wood burning stove! They put three chairs as close to the fire as possible and began to prepare tea for us. I am absolutely in love with Georgian hospitality. We visited with our new friends for about 30 minutes before braving the cold again. Now, it's one thing to be out and about in 0 degree, and below, weather (especially as a native Californian), but it is something else when you can't escape the unbearableness of it by stepping into a warm building or cafe. Gratefulness is an understatement of what we felt for these ladies. We owed them our toes :).

kind docent. megan. lani. me.

After the castle, we strolled the streets to see what Telavi had to offer, all the while realizing that our boots were not made for walking...in snow. It wasn't long before the snow was seeping through my soles and my feet were completely wet. What are ya gonna do? We really had no solution to that, so we just headed to the marshutka station to bid farewell to Megan who had to head back to Gurjaani to attend a wedding with her family. Lani and I then made our way around the bazaar to see what it was all about. There were all kinds of fish, raw meat (some of it still attached to the head), fresh fruit, homemade wine, and a plethora of other Georgian goods and foods. We stuck out just enough to get asked "Amerikeli?" but not enough to have our picture taken, phew!

bazaar. colorful in more ways than one!

We joined a handful of other teachers for dinner at the swanky hotel restaurant where they were staying.. And by "swanky" I mean it had heat so we were able to take off our coats and dry our socks. The eight of us shared traditional Georgian cuisine and left rather quickly when the male 4-top nearby proceeded to fight and make up over and over again. We weren't sure what was going on and although we found it entertaining, we decided it safer to retreat to our room when the pushing and falling over chairs began. Somehow this didn't bother the other patrons...typical Saturday night maybe???

Sunday morning we woke to snow, snow, and still snowing. But this time everything disappeared under the lovely white blanket...note to self: check weather report before traveling. Lani and I walked about 1 mile to the marshutka station and waited for a solid 30-45 minutes before our vans arrived. Thanks to one of the gentlemen waiting under the awning, I was able to find the one to Akhmeta. And by "find" I mean I had told almost everyone that I need to go to Akhmeta and when the bus arrived the man tapped me on the shoulder, pointed, and said "Akhmeta." So I quickly joined the herd to get a seat up front next to a woman and her son.

no joke.

It took about 50 minutes to get home with all the stopping for roadside pedestrians and accumulating up to 25 people in our 15 passenger van. Basically, the van stops anywhere if a person needs to get off or on. So when the van stopped a few streets short of the Akhmeta station to let some passengers off , I decided to hop out as well since it was closer to my house. When I handed the driver my money and thanked him for the ride, he looked at me like I was crazy. I completely stick out with my blonde hair and English speaking tongue, so they probably assume I'm an out-of-place traveler and must have someone meeting me at the station. So when I got out on the side of the road like I knew where I was going, I definitely threw him a curve ball. I knew where I was, however, I navigate off landmarks as I've yet to see a street sign, and things look muuuuuch different in the snow. Needless to say, it took me about 10-15 minutes in ankle deep snow to make it home by myself, yay!

my footprints on my street :)

I couldn't wait to get out of my snow soaked clothes and boots, but when I arrived...the power was out...and it stayed out for almost 48 hours. This meant that all of us convened in the kitchen/dining room where the burners on the stove were our only source of heat. Nana (my host sister-in-law) took Lizi to her parents' house for the night because they have a wood stove and our house was just too cold for a baby. With not much to do and no light to do it in, I went to bed early wearing 3 layers of clothing, mittens, a scarf, and my blankets over my head. You know it's cold when you can see your own breath it your bedroom. I was able to sleep comfortably, all things considered, but getting ready for work the next morning was just ridiculous. I can honestly say I have never been so cold in my life.

This adventure took place just over 3 weeks ago and the weather hasn't changed much since (part of the reason it's taken me so long to write this). It's continued to snow and we've lost power a few times, but that initial storm was definitely the worst. It's starting to lighten up and even rain a little bit...I think Winter is turning into Spring! At least this is the guess of a SoCal native whose never really seen a season "change." But after enduring this, I think I can officially call myself a Caucasian. I mean...I do live in the Caucasus which is home to the highest mountain in Europe...not sure if I mentioned that :)

Blind Trust and Toasts.

After teaching my one class of the day last Wednesday, I headed to Gurjaani to celebrate my friend Megan’s birthday supra-style with her, her host family, and some other TLG friends. As I’ve mentioned before, the most popular mode of public transportation are marshutkas and that is how I intended to get there and back. Although they’re insanely affordable, they don’t operate on a strict schedule and stop running around 6 p.m., but I was prepared to travel an hour and a half each way for a couple hours of midweek fun! Seeing as how I still haven’t graduated to complete independence, one of the drivers at my host mom’s office drove me the 25 minutes to Telavi to put me on the right bus from there. I hadn’t been to Gurjaani before, so although I’m confident I would’ve managed on my own, I’m positive I wouldn’t have done it in such a timely manner.

I climbed in and took my seat in the back, popped in my headphones, and enjoyed the 50-minute ride. As we got closer to my destination, the man sitting next to me asked if I spoke Kartuli (Georgian), and I did a yes/no headshake and said t’sota (a little). He then said, “Dutch?” and I shook my head. I told him I was an English teacher in Akhmeta and he got a big smile on his face and told me he was a principal at a school in Gurjaani. What I gathered from the rest of our broken Kartuli/English/charades conversation was that he has 2 homes, one being in another town, and his school hasn’t received an English teacher yet. I was able to tell him where I’m from and that I was going to Gurjaani for my friend’s birthday. When we arrived at our stop I asked the man how much the marshutka ride was and he shook his head and showed me his money. He motioned for me to get out and then handed the driver his money. We climbed out and I tried to pay for my ride but the man refused to take it! The language barrier makes it very difficult to argue, and I've learned by now that I wouldn't win, so I repeatedly thanked him and shook his hand. Then, with the kindest smile, he said, “Nice to meet you. I love you.” I held back my laughter and told him it was very nice to meet him as well and we parted ways. “Love” seems to be quite the popular English word amongst Georgians, and even in our training class we were taught to say love instead of like (ie.  I don’t love cheese). In America, this could have been very creepy, but here, it was an act of pure kindness and appreciation.

I met all my friends at the café and we had a table full of food and wine and in no less than an hour, so were we. In traditional supra style, there were many toasts, in both English and Georgian, and even the occasional Russian translation. Then came the cake with American and Georgian flags side by side, and fruit plates with firecrackers flaming from the center. Although the cake was beautiful, I was very excited about the kiwi, orange rings, and quince slices…which seem to be quite the popular fruit out here that we expats are not so familiar with. I was hoping my plate of fruit would deter them from giving me cake but instead the server just forked my quince, handed it to me, and replaced my fruit with cake. This time laughter wasn’t as easy to hold back as we were all given slices the size of our heads! The music started and dancing began, but shortly after, my host brother called and it was time for me to head back home.

cake :)

insanely large slice of cake.

He spoke to Megan’s host dad to tell him where I needed to go and then host dad relayed the information to host uncle (who’s a taxi driver), who then drove me down the road to one of his taxi friends where I hopped in a taxi for Telavi. We drove for about 20 minutes in silence when my brother called and told me to give the phone to the driver where a short conversation took place in Georgian. 20 minutes later, the taxi pulled over to the side of the road where Giorgi was waiting for me. We greeted each other, I paid the taxi man, and about 5 seconds after he pulled away, a driver from the office pulled up to take us the rest of the way home. Wow. I managed to travel about 60 km without really taking part in the conversations of where I needed to go. I simply trusted these four men, three of whom I just met that night, and went where they motioned for me too. When I step back and think about it, we teachers have given a lot of trust to people we only met three weeks ago, including each other. It may sound crazy but from my experiences so far, they continue to earn it.

I arrived home, feeling happyJ, and was ready to relax for the night as it was only about 8 p.m., but then Fati came in the house and shouted, “Rachel, I’ve come to get you! Let’s go!” So I threw my boots back on and ran out of the house with no idea of what was going on. We arrived at the office where all my after school comrades were in the middle of a supra…apparently it was Man’s Day and they were celebrating all the men that worked with my host mom. So I joined in for more food, wine and fun. I sat in between the Tamada (toast master) and Fati, who translated most of what was said but I was still in the dark for some of it. However, I think I’m starting to understand a bit of what’s going on around me. Although I can’t technically speak Georgian, I pay a lot of attention when they talk, so I feel I’m starting to understand the meaning behind what they’re saying even though I don’t understand the actual words.

The next thing I knew my host mom requested that I give a toast…in Georgian. I laughed, thinking she was joking, but the entire table went silent and everyone looked at me…they weren’t joking. I looked at Fati to rescue me, but she just grinned. So I did the only thing I could do. I picked up my wine glass and started putting together the few words I knew into the shortest sentences possible, ironically using the word “love” a lot. Although I’m sure it wasn’t much better than my 3^rd graders English, the entire room listened to every word I said, nodded in agreement, and some helped me with a few words I didn’t know. I wrapped it up by raising my glass and they all clapped and cheered. I did it! My host mom had a smile from ear to ear and Fati gave me a big hug and said she was so proud. I was quite proud myself, however, it’d be unfair to take all the credit…I had a few glasses of wine to thank for that performance :).

My Sanctuary.

I’m looking out my bedroom window watching my neighbors hoe and plant seeds in their backyard (vineyard) while their two cows roam around the fire that is burning on their land, prepping it for a better harvest. This is Georgia.

Everyday I spend a couple of hours in my room, to myself. I listen to my music, peruse the Internet, or maybe watch an episode of Friends. It doesn’t really matter what I do, but when I’m in my room I get to leave everything else outside…and everyone inside, can understand me. I’m in a place that not many people know about and even fewer have been to. I consider myself very lucky to be in the midst of this experience, but the intricacies of it all can get exhausting. There is nothing here that is like home. It’s not good or bad, better or worse, but it’s not familiar. Yes, this is part of the reason of why I’m here…but we all need our sanity.

I just finished folding my laundry and putting on warmer clothes for the evening when I looked out my window and saw my neighbors. That’s when I realized that sometimes it’s nice to experience things through a window…to just sit back, watch, and enjoy.

cow...man...fire...Georgia.

Yez, ez good...ez very good.

I started teaching on Monday at school No. 1 in Akhmeta. My school is about a 15-20 minute walk from my house, but I am not allowed to walk by myself yet (something about being a new "face" and they don't want me to get kidnapped...I think they're joking though) so my host mom drops me off since it is just down the street from her office. On my first day I was greeted in front of the school by my Director (principal) and one of my co-teachers. I was thrilled to meet her as she was the first English speaking person I'd encountered since Fati, and seeing as we're going to be teaching together, being able to speak the same language might come in handy. I followed the ladies into the school and headed to the teachers room where I was greeted by about 20 more women who didn't speak English...I'll tell you what, if I meet someone who does speak English I'll let you know, as that list is much shorter :)

I said hello in English and Georgian and proceeded to meet all the other teachers. I still don't think I can remember one name as they are not the easiest, especially coming through a thick Georgian accent, but they were all very welcoming, wearing big smiles. The bell rang and I headed to my first class with my co-teacher, receiving star struck stares by every kid I passed along the way. Some would giggle, some would say "hello!" as proudly as they could, and some would just look. It's a good thing our trainers prepared us for this reaction, so I just smiled at the kids and said hello. It's now been a week and I still get the same reaction when I walk through the halls except with a few more hellos :) and let me tell you, they are so excited to say it in English.

The school is nothing like back home but pretty much standard here. It's basically a concrete block and what I imagine a Soviet era building to look like. It's very cold and there are no lights in the hallways. The classrooms are a little more comfortable as most have wood floors and stoves to provide a little warmth but even then, jackets, scarves, and hats stay on...and I completely understand if it's difficult for the children to take me seriously in my large purple jacket (technically the color is blackberry), but I'm from L.A. so it's staying on...however, I promise the clothes underneath are very teacher-professional! All the classrooms I've been in have windows so the sun definitely provides some added warmth, but you get used to having a constant shiver. The walls are bleak and pretty bare and the chalkboards (if the room has it) are definitely as old as the building. But they do have chalk and use old rags or sponges to clean the boards. The children are unfazed by this as it's all they know, and it's rather humbling to watch them refill the stove with wood and then get right back to learning. 

My first class was the 11th grade and there were about 10 students present. There's quite the flu epidemic going on and about half of the school is out sick. And this is the case at almost every school in our region, so needless to say I'm almost out of hand sanitizer. The last thing I need is to get sick! The teacher introduced me to the students and I noticed she was speaking only in English and the students understood everything she was saying! I did an internal arm pump and thought this is a good start. Then she looks at me and says, "Rachel, tell zem about yourself," so I did...I got nothin' but a sea of blank faces. The teacher then repeated what I said, in English, and they got it! Now mind you, I spoke slowly, clearly, and choose my words carefully, so really, I was at a loss. 

Class proceeded with the students reading from their books and I was rather impressed, as was their teacher with her constant praise every fifth word. I watched them read the text thoroughly, translate it back to Georgian, identify the grammatical parts, and very enthusiastically, give multiple synonyms for the word or phrase. They can read it, write it, and speak it with their teacher, but then me and my American accent walk in, and crickets. Ok...so its starting to make sense now...they've never spoken with a native English speaker before so they don't know what it sounds like! They don't need grammar (from me), they need pronunciation. Enter, my program :)

My first day ended with a concert in my honor...seriously??? Who the heck am I?! The students performed traditional Georgian dances and songs, and one student even read two poems that he wrote. The concert was great and I couldn't have been more flattered that they did all of that for me. Talk about a warm welcome! After the concert, I was escorted back to the teachers' room for a supra. 

Traditional Georgian dance

Georgian song

Supra!

The schools is grade 1st to 12th and I will be teaching grades 3 and 6-12 with 2 different co-teachers. That's at least 160 students once the flu wears off so good luck to me and learning all those names! I've got about 5 down so only 155+ to go. Thankfully every other boy is named Giorgi and every girl, Natia or Nino, so really I just have to remember who is who. My day starts at 9:30 a.m. and I'm out no later than 2 p.m. so I am enjoying the schedule. But speaking English so slowly and only being understood 30% of the time gets exhausting! In Georgian, every letter has one sound and every letter is pronounced. In English, every letter has multiple sounds, depending on what it's paired with, and there are silent letters all over the place! I definitely have a new appreciation for the English language and anyone who dare tries to learn it. It might be necessary, but in no way, shape or form is it easy.

Georgia Fun Facts

-Joseph Stalin was from Gori, Georgia which is about 80 km from my town.

-Kakheti is the most visited region in Georgia. It is wine country after all!

I'm Not in California Anymore.

So let me tell you about the greatest game of red rover ever! On Saturday we were met by our school representatives at the hotel and it went down almost exactly like I was told it would…Teachers on one side and Georgia on the other. We were each called one by one as everyone clapped and we met our new principals in the middle of the Sheraton lobby. I was greeted with big smiles and what could have only been Georgian compliments based on the looks on their faces and the excitement in their voices…and if they weren’t compliments, well, I don’t speak Georgian and neither do you so we’re just going to assume the bestJ. So we grabbed my bags, including the lovely gift of wine and chocolates from the President himself, and made like a herd out of the hotel.

Red rover, red rover, send Rachele right over!

My belongings and I, along with 4 other teachers and 9 Georgians, were loaded into the marshut’ka (mini-van) and began our journey to Kakheti. I was fortunate enough to travel with a few of my friends, which helped ease the pangs of separation as we headed into the unknown. Now let me tell you, we all know that Europeans are crazy drivers…well, I found out that they got this technique from the Georgians. I thought maybe something was up from the few cab rides I had during the week but after my first marshut’ka experience it is indeed true that Georgian drivers are the reason the “oh sh!t” handle was put into cars. They are fast, aggressive, and nothing can seem to get in their way. But at least they maintain common courtesy and honk profusely at the car they’re going to pass…on the wrong side of the road. I find it best to just trust that they know what they’re doing and keep my eyes closed!

So after about an hour in the van we suddenly stopped in front of a roadside stand. The drivers got out and proceeded to light up a cigarette. We didn’t really know what was going on but figured, hey, at least they’re polite enough not to smoke inside the vehicle (everyone in Georgia smokes everywhere!). So we patiently waited for 5 minutes when suddenly the warmest, freshest bread (along with some cheese, but never mind that), was being passed back to us! It was hot off the fire, so neatly wrapped in Georgian newspaper, and I’m pretty sure I ate an entire baguette to myself. Georgian hospitality never rests. Delicious!

We hopped back on the road for another 45 minutes or so and then stopped again for a bathroom break. I figured I might as well go since we were there and I really had no idea how long until we reached our final destination…big mistake. Lani, Joanna and I proceeded through what looked like a rundown concentration camp to a room with stalls, and behind each door, a hole in the ground. Welcome to my first encounter with a Turkish toilet. I knew this time would come, and I know it won’t be my last, but I just wasn’t prepared for this. Holding our breaths, the three of us stood there, looked at the toilets, looked at each other, and then erupted into hysteric laughter, as that really was the only reaction one could have when seeing the state of the room we were in. And even though laughter usually encourages my bladder, I just couldn’t do it. I gave it a shot…I hovered…but nothing. Next time.

Turkish toilet

Roadside market

Fast forward about an hour and we arrived in Gurjaani to drop off Lani, Megan and Justine in their new hometown. I have no idea where exactly we left them but there was a small welcome party so assumed it was the right place. On a side note, if you haven’t figured out by now, those we were traveling with spoke only Georgian (one spoke a little english), and us English. Even after a 5 day language course we’re pretty much clueless when it comes to the language so we just follow their lead with “I don’t know what’s going on” facial expressions. 

So we left the girls and continued on our way for another 45 minutes to Joanna’s village Alvani in Akhmeta. We were greeted by her host mother with a welcome that reminded me of the mom in My Big Fat Greek Wedding. She hurried down the front walk, threw her arms around Joanna and said "Welcome to my home!" in the best English she could muster...it was the sweetest thing and I seriously almost cried (shocker)! We all proceeded inside for my first experience of a Supra (Georgian feast). It was me, Joanna, her host mom and 2 host sisters, 2 principals, the resource director, one of the English teachers, and the 3 men driving the marshut’ka…I’m guessing we knew them. Food was piled on the table, wine was poured and the toasting (in Georgian) began. They toasted to me and Joanna, our principals, the host family, and the country. Since it was 3 in the afternoon and we had to continue on our way, the supra was very mellow.  So I bid farewell to Joanna and climbed back in the van. I was now the sole English speaking person in the group…deep breaths.

Drive to Akhmeta

We drove on for another 15 minutes and arrived in the “main town” where I would be living and working. Now, the main roads between villages are paved, but not where the houses are, and since it had just snowed, we were working with mud roads here. I guess this is what it means to be living in the "region." I don’t really know how to describe the exterior conditions of the homes, and I especially don’t want to offend anyone, so let’s just say that I now understand the meaning of a developing country. And there are dogs, chickens and cows wandering the roads…the dogs are wild and the cows are pets. I’m gonna venture to say that the phrase “it’s what’s on the inside that counts” rings true in this case. We pulled up to my house which is walled in from the street and has a big green gate.

My Street

Outside the entrance of my house 

I was greeted by my host mom, Iza, her son Giorgi (25), his wife Nana (24) and their 8-month-old little girl, Lizi…adorable! They showed me my new room and then sat me at the table for more food, wine and toasts. We were joined by my fellow travelers and a family friend, Fati (Fatima), who was there to translate (Yeah!). Iza doesn’t speak any English and Giorgi speaks VERY little, however he is fluent in Spanish so we usually try to make that route work…I’ve actually constructed a sentence now using English, Georgian and Spanish to get a message across...and it workedJ!

Iza was the Tamada, toastmaster of the supra, and made me feel so welcome by first toasting my family back home. She said she knows it’s hard to be away from family and was so grateful to mine for allowing me to come live with her family and help her country…I was very touched by this gesture as usually the first toast goes to the country or whatever they’re celebrating. She continued with a few more toasts and by the end of the supra I knew that I would be in good hands.

From what I know so far, Iza is pretty remarkable. She’s the head of the NGO, Kakheti Regional Development Foundation, and they distribute funds from the UN to the Chechen refugees in the nearby Pankisi valley. They implement activities, classes and trainings to help these refugees improve their socio-economic wellbeing. Fati translates their reading materials to English and she’s hoping to practice and improve her English with me since it isn’t her first (or second, or third) language. I’ve already helped her a little…she tells me what they’re trying to say and I help construct the sentence in proper English…I’m honestly very excited about this. Not only am I helping this international organization, but it’s an unexpected boost for my resume! And they’re all very eager to learn English…they even want me to teach Lizi, who I’m pretty sure is the only one that can understand me most of the timeJ.

Ok, so talk about the longest blog ever and I only covered my arrivalJ! Needless to say, there will be more to come soon. I’m doing well, my living arrangements are comfortable, I have Internet in my room and a toilet in the houseJ, my host family is great, and I really can’t eat another bite of food! Kakheti is beautiful and I'm pretty much surrounded by the snow covered Caucasus mountains. I can't wait for spring when the leaves and the grapes start growing! 

Thank you all for the well wishes and continued support. Before I go, I’d like to leave you with a quote that Giorgi told me while we were practicing his English…Living is the art of loving; loving is the art of caring; caring is the art of sharing; and sharing is the art of living…Georgians are some pretty great peopleJ.

All my love to you from Georgia,

Rachel

(photos below)

My home :)

My front yard

The chicken coup!

Our neighbor's house

My bedroom :)

View from my bedroom...not too shabby