Cheers to the Governor!

Turns out, I'm kind of a big deal.

Well, not really. I'm just an English speaker who happens to live in Telavi.

I got a call a few days ago from my regional representative asking if I would be interested in giving lessons to one of Telavi's government officials. She didn't really have details, but I said that I would be available if they wanted to contact me. Which they did. Four days later. Typical Georgian time.

So up to the building with the rainbow behind it from this post I trudge, and up to the third floor I go. The third floor of this otherwise questionable building is easily the nicest interior I've seen in this country. After meeting Teona, who is the girl I'd been chatting with to coordinate this meeting, we go and wait outside of a large office. She keeps calling Mr. Gio the governor of Telavi, which didn't make any sense so I assumed she meant mayor. 

The meeting with Mr. Gio and his deputy was pretty short, and they did not speak a word of English. Naturally, the normal questions came out, with "are you married," being number one. They proceeded to ask me when I would be leaving Georgia, and when Teona translated my answer of "July" they laughed and informed me that they would find me a Georgian husband. Which is, of course, only natural. Since Teona was translating everything, I was sitting there kind of freaking out, because here is a government official for the town in which I live and he wants to learn English, but he doesn't know any! How the hell do I start from scratch with an adult? Should I even bother introducing him to the alphabet and reading and writing or should we stick primarily to speaking since that is more of what he would be using it for? 

A thousand other questions all ran through my head and I was doing my best to not show any of them on my face. It must have worked, because we settled on Tuesdays and Thursdays for lessons, with a fairly nebulous time for those two days. Basically, when they have a free moment in their schedules for some English time, they would text me, and if it was late they would send a car. Which sounded kind of sketch, because I'm a kargi gogo, and I don't just go out at night and get into black cars, but I figured we could cross that bridge when we came to it.

So after Misho, the mayors personal driver who is also fluent in Russian, Spanish, Georgian and some other language I don't speak, dropped me off at home, I settled in for an evening of reading in front of the petchie and hanging out with Ani. At about 9 pm, I got a text from Teona. 

I really love how no one ever can pronounce my name, no matter what country I'm in.

Georgia.

Thursday rolls around, and I head up to the office at 4 like Teona requested. I get there five minutes early, and see Mr. Gio walking out of the building. He recognizes me, and says, in very broken English, "Oh. So sorry. 5 minutes I be back." No problem, dude. Teona and I popped a squat outside of his office and chatted with his secretaries, who were curious and amused by the flannel wearing American trying to speak Georgian to them. After asking me if I wanted coffee, they of course asked if I had a husband. Teona laughed uncomfortably at this and apologized for everyone always inquiring about my personal life. "I try to tell them that Americans are very punctual and private, but they do not listen. I am so sorry."

At about 4:45, the "governor" comes back, and I sit down with him, Teona, and Sopo, who is one of the deputies. I felt pretty important, sitting at the head of a gigantic wooden table that's about twenty feet long and seven feet wide and is obviously made for very important people. Right as we sat down, one of Mr. Gio's iPhones rang - I say "one" because he has three - and he got up and took the call. A few minutes later when he sat down, he apologized in way less broken English than when I had encountered him on the steps. "So sorry for that. It was important call and I had to take it. So. We begin?"

Sopo and the governor actually have incredibly good English. We spent an hour and a half talking about a wide array of subjects - dogs, my marital status, restaurants, how "American" relationships work, why no one likes to have dogs in their houses here. I introduced myself to them, asked about their families, their jobs, their hobbies. And they once again asked when I was leaving Georgia.

"I will be gone in July," I once again replied.

"Why? Why do you want to leave?" Sopo inquired.

"It's not that I WANT to leave, it's that I HAVE to. I have a lot of money that I need to pay back because of school, and I cannot do that here." This lead to a lengthy conversation about student loans, and how the education system works in America, and culminated in the very blunt question of, "Well, how much money do you have to pay back?" So I told him, and the governor waved his hand and said, "Oh, that is nothing. I know someone for you. He is young and very nice looking and rich. He owns a vineyard and you can have horses and keep your dogs inside if you want. So I'm thinking you will not meet him until you are about to get on plane, because surprise meeting is always better, and then you fall in love and stay here and he pays for all of that and you keep giving us English lessons." Admittedly, I've heard of worse ways to spend my life than being married to some rich vineyard owner. However, I think I need to break the news that I don't want kids, I can't really cook, and that I've got a tattoo to him before he gets too sold on this idea for my future.

Talking with the three of them was really enjoyable. I learned quite a bit, like how my definition of "independent" is very different than what other peoples definition is.

Gio asked me, "Joanna, you are independent?"

"Yes," I responded slowly, "I think I am."

"Well, I know this. You are here, alone. But say. Hm. I was in Poland for conference, and we went to a discotheque."

"Club, batono," corrected Teona.

"Yes. Club. Discotheque is from 70s! Ha! Anyway. We were in club, and sitting on stairs because we were tired. And we did not know that stairs are where you sit if you are man and, how you say, free. So all women came and made us dance with them, but they had rings, and we asked, 'Don't you have husband?' And they say, 'Yes, but he does not care if I dance.' And then they would invite people to their houses with their husbands saying that no one cares. In Poland marriage does not mean anything. You can dance and have fun with anyone you want. In Georgia, you cannot. Even if you only dance with another person it is very big deal. Is America like Poland? Are you independent like that?"

I mean, of all the things I imagined discussing in my first English lesson with a government official, swinging couples was definitely NOT on the list! I told him I would never do any of that, mainly because I am a very bad dancer. That response was a crowd pleaser judging by their laughter. They spent the next ten minutes or so telling me that they liked me very much because I had a very "open heart" and smiled a lot, and that I was the first American they've met who has done so (Unsure what kind of grump ass Americans they've met thus far...). Sopo especially liked that I "look Georgian," and everyone was happy to hear that I love eating, but do not look as though I love eating. The little jam session of all the reasons I was awesome definitely endeared them all to me a bit more.

During our little chats, I was also able to clear up what Gio's title actually is. Turns out he isn't the governor of Telavi, but of all Kakheti. And as far as material for the lessons, he doesn't want grammar drills, or writing exercises, which makes me so happy I cannot even contain myself because whoa are those boring. Basically he wants me to find articles online about relevant topics - development, tourism, agriculture, etc etc - and bring them in to discuss so he can "have something to say at meetings." Awesome.

So as it happens I am not, in fact, a big deal, only a glorified Google search. 

We need to have a chat...

I've been toying with making this post for a while now, but I can't really keep my mouth shut about it anymore.

I am sick to death of people hating on Russia and the Olympics - not that I don't agree with most points made, but because you're all doing it for the wrong fucking reasons.

Yes, the state of the Olympic Village is a joke. Yes, Russia should have gotten its shit together and made it actually functional in time for the games and the arrival of the Olympians. However, that's kind of an outrageous expectation given the infrastructure of the area. So why the Olympic Committee decided to award the winter games to a place where they don't have, I dunno, decent running water, let alone SNOW, is beyond me, but they did.

I'm used to janky shit here. This is nothing shocking. Professionally, sure, be indignant about it I guess? There are worse things to do than going to a bedroom to check into a hotel?

Welcome to Eastern Europe?

Done this more than once. Continue to feel like a rockstar, and know that there are people all over the world who don't have clean water to drink, let alone wash their faces with.

Yeah, sorry. I'm gonna put this under the category of "stop being a pussy, please." This is what you're the most surprised about? This? Seriously? Have you ever been outside of your house? I know plenty of places in the States where you can't flush the toilet paper. Plus, hey, guys! Be thankful you have Western toilets! They could've given you the middle finger and made you all use squat toilets, which guess what! Are even MORE of a culture shock than having to throw your toilet paper in a trash can!

Now, I realize that from a worldwide standpoint, maybe if you're hosting the Olympics you should maybe not suck ass at it. And sure. I'm with you guys on that. But there are way more grievous things in play that we need to discuss.

And I'm not even talking about the killing of the stray dogs, which is a whole other diatribe. 

Yes, it's sad. I love dogs. I think dogs are the best fucking things on this planet. I think life is vastly improved by dogs in ways that are immeasurable. If I have to categorize myself, I would put a check in the box next to "Dog Person." But that's because I'm from the first world. I've got the capital to sit there and even entertain the notion of a "pet," since that whole concept is a first world ideal. Dogs in developing nations everywhere are either help or pests. They don't live in your homes, they don't snuggle with you and make you feel better. They live their lives herding your sheep, defending your cows, guarding your house, or dumpster diving. That's it. Many of them have all sorts of parasites and diseases, rabies being among them. So what was it exactly that Sochi was supposed to do with their dogs? Round them up and adopt them? To who? Russians? Russians who can't even feed their families, let alone carry the extra burden of an animal? 

Again, I think it's a sad place to be in when shooting huge amounts of animals is the only viable option, but that's kind of the grim reality of being in the developing world. And while it makes me sad and my stupid little heart breaks every time I see some mangey starving stray, I think the global discussion needs to actually be turned to the malnutrition of the kids in these places before we can think about imposing our own cultural frames of "what is right" on places that don't have the same problems we, ourselves, do. Basically what I'm saying is this - when my third graders will stop having brown teeth due to vitamin deficiency and lack of basic dental care, then I will worry about the stray dog population of the developing world. Until then, humans first.

Speaking of humans, yeah, Russia's anti-gay movement is awful. I think it's terrible, and fascist and a million other words to describe the sheer monstrousness of it. But what kills me are the Americans acting all superior over them. Hey! Americans! Take a look at our own country! People are still regularly beat up for liking the same gender. We're still shocked when someone says, "I'm gay." Only 17 of our states have legalized same sex marriages, while numerous others still don't allow it because it's against their own stately constitutions. I don't think we really get to sit there and wag the finger at Russia, guys. Yes, we're taking huge steps forward, and I love that, and we are definitely on the right track! I'm not trying to detract anything from the progress that's been made in regards to the LGBT community, and not trying to say they shouldn't be excited about what's been going on! I just am not really sure we get to be high and mighty with anyone in regards to gay rights at the moment.

But human rights haven't ever really been something the Russian government has paid attention to. Hundreds of thousands were deported from the Caucasus Mountains area during Soviet times; an act later renamed as a "genocide," especially in regards to the Chechen population. The destruction of religious spaces and cultural points of pride in Georgia alone is infuriating, and that's not even counting the annihilation of ethnic groups in Abkhazia, Ossetia, Dagestan, and Chechnya. And that's only this in this small part of the world; that's ignoring all of the westerly post-Soviet satellite states, like Ukraine, which are a whole other can of worms.

The catalyst for me finally making this post, however, was an article sent to me by a friend and fellow TLG volunteer. Although it's all in Russian, a quick trip to Google Translate helped suss out what all it was saying. This is a transcription of a security conference held in Armenia, with several Russian officials in attendance. Below are some of the best gems:

"Fundamental importance for Russia and the Eurasian Union is the Central Caucasus . Here is the key to security in the region , a direct military access to the Middle East, the most convenient corridor for overland trade with Iran, Iraq , Turkey. Russia needs direct transport infrastructure and access to Armenia to maintain combat capability and capacity building military base in Gyumri . Now , many questions arise in Yerevan , how will the economy of the CU and the EEC , the Eurasian Union without a common border . This topic will be removed in the near future . Direct border between Armenia and Russia , the Eurasian Union and Armenia will be installed in the next 2-4 years , Russia will have direct access to Armenia , and Armenia in Russia , unhindered access to the Black and Caspian Seas."

"Such withdrawal will be implemented as a result of continuing the process of changing the borders in the Caucasus, the establishment of new fair borders , corresponding to the new economic and political realities . The basis of the new realities - the development of transport corridors , which was laid in the Russian Empire , developed in the Soviet Union , and will be actively developed in the framework of the Eurasian Union."

"Rapid implementation of these projects is related to the just decision of the Ossetian issue that has not yet been finally resolved . There is a recognized Russian Republic of South Ossetia ( RSO ), but the boundaries that it takes , the boundaries of the former South Ossetian Autonomous Oblast ( YUOAO ) within the Georgian SSR does not correspond to historical reality and notions of justice. Most recently, in the early 90 - ies of XX century from the inner regions of modern Georgia was expelled about 100,000 Ossetians. Most of them were squeezed out of the Trialeti Ossetia (region , which was supposed to , but did not enter the early 20 -ies in YUOAO ) , Gori and Kazbek district of Georgia. Accordingly, there is a question of respect for human Ossetian refugees to return and the establishment of fair borders in the Caucasus with the inclusion of the United Ossetia , Gori District WG Trialeti Ossetia , Kazbek district and district WG They . Thus, under the control of Russia would Transcaucasian highway exit to Armenia , Georgian Military Highway , linking Vladikavkaz and Tbilisi and Ossetian Military Road, which after laying asphalt fabric tie Northern Caucasus to Western Georgia and Batumi port . Changing borders Ossetia will promote Eurasian transport infrastructure in the Caucasus. Transcaucasian highway and railway through South Ossetia (including Gori district and Trialet Ossetia ) will get access to the Akhalkalaki and Akhaltsikhe present-day Georgia and then to Armenia and Iran."

"These changes are objective, natural and inevitable . Russia several times went to the Caucasus in its history , and Russia has always returned to the Caucasus. And each time you return changed regional boundaries and economic schemes . They have already started to change with the emergence and recognition of Abkhazia and South Ossetia. This process is not yet finished . It will create a new regional infrastructure and the new Eurasian reality that will give a new impetus to Russian- Iranian cooperation in the South Caucasus."

Sorry that they're not smaller snippets, but this is kind of a huge issue, and it's one that hasn't been discussed AT ALL in the English speaking world. What Armenia and Russia are wanting would mean no more Georgia. It would mean Georgia becomes a part of the Russian Federation again. This is a super nationalistic group of people. They're not going to just give up their country so that Russia and Armenia can be buddies. Not to get all dramatic on everyone, but this is basically Russia and Armenia saying they don't give a shit if they have to take this land by force which, spoilers, they will have to. 

I don't know how high up the man who was quoted saying all of that is. But the fact that it was discussed openly at all makes me really uncomfortable. Infrastructure changes aside, it's going to be a huge drain on this region in terms of resources and human life, neither of which it can really afford. 

"These changes are objective, natural and inevitable." 

This is some scary shit, everyone. So can we please get off the toilet-indignity train and start being pissed about the Olympics for actual reasons?

The full, translated, text from the Russian article is available after this jump:

Urban Decay

This is going to be a really picture laden post, so I apologize in advance.

One of my most favorite things to do on this planet is crawl around weird abandoned places. Urban decay happens anywhere humans have settled; it's anything we've built, or tried to build, and then for some reason or another left a shell of a structure behind. Houses, government buildings, asylums, hospitals, orphanages - you name it, it's abandoned somewhere on this earth. The good thing about urban decay in America is that a quick Google search can usually tell you what the thing you've just discovered is. Even little summer camps that are down a ravine in some mountains outside of Los Angeles are identifiable with some digging around on the internet.

But Google does jack shit here.

Georgia is, I would hazard a guess based on the areas I've been, comprised of about 40% abandoned buildings - structures that have not been occupied since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Architectural feats whose information is buried in some deep cellar which will never see the light of day again, or whose records were destroyed with the dissolution of the USSR. Word of mouth is really the only thing that can keep a majority of buildings identified, and even then you will be hard pressed to get any kind of useful facts out of most Georgians in regards to these abandoned sites.1

This country is simultaneously an urban explorers wet dream and worst enemy. The plethora of places to creep into is matched only by the lack of any kind of identifying information on them. It also doesn't help that many structures have been reallocated for various tasks before ultimately being abandoned. There are very few resources on the larger buildings to begin with, and you might as well just forget about smaller sites because you will never know what the hell they were used for. Google thrives with governments releasing information for the public and crowd sourcing information. When the government (or former government in this case) keeps their records hidden, and the majority of people who do know what the locations were used for a) don't give a shit, and b) don't have internet access, Google becomes useless.

The number of abandoned buildings here is a direct reflection of just how much the rug was pulled out from under Georgia during the dissolution. As Georgia claimed independence in the early 1990s, and the USSR was in its final throes, there was a huge brain drain out of this country. Hospitals emptied as the Russian doctors and nurses who had been employed within them fled back to their home country. Universities suddenly found themselves without professors, official government buildings had no more politicians and high ranking public officers. And this isn't even a story unique to Georgia. Look at any post-Soviet satellite state and you'll find the same thing - the bones of the former Federation empty and decaying.

The area surrounding Telavi is primarily abandoned. Down the hill the city sits upon are huge warehouses, and even a few structures reminiscent of a plane hanger.

One of the hospitals on the south end of town. It's part of a huge complex of buildings on the edge of the forest,  none of which look to have been used at all in about twenty years.

Something about Telavi's endocrine dispensary? 

About a 20 minute walk down the hill from my house, past the Soviet bloc apartments, across the really smelly river that we have affectionately dubbed The Shit River and right next to the super janky water park, is a huge complex of warehouses that are completely empty.

There are three gigantic mostly windowed buildings. What they were used for, I've zero idea, but there is a carpet of moss inside now, so we should probably just repurpose them as a spiffy new greenhouse.

"Sophia! I'm going to run down this thing! Can you take a picture of me being a dork at the end?" This complex has a really impressive view of the Caucasus mountains when it's not foggy out. 

Down the dirt road from the huge complex several paths jut down into small patches of land. They're only trekked by shepherds and their flocks these days, but there are little places like this sprinkled throughout the fields. They're not particularly interesting, and they're probably not nefarious in origin, but my curiosity really gets the better of me when checking them out.

Some buildings have fences around them. Sometimes the fence is just made out of fallen saplings that have been piled on top of each other, while some are legitimate "seriously, keep the fuck out" type of fences. This is behind one of those fences. Which makes me really want to know why I can't go in it!

This is on the road that parallels The Shit River. It looks like it was once apartments,  or maybe a school. We stumbled upon an old vineyard, but didn't dilly dally on account of one room was being used in the main house, and outside there was a small shack with a smoking fire and a Caucasian Mountain Shepherd sitting outside. In case you don't know what that is, I suggest you google it and see why the hell we got out of there super fast.

One of the largest and nicest looking buildings in downtown Telavi - the city's school resource center, and other administrative offices. What you don't see is the inside, which looks like a god damn war zone. Half the lights don't work, there are exposed tangles of wires which bring fluctuating amounts of electricity in, and the walls, like so many in public spaces here, are falling apart. It's not technically abandoned, but about half the building is non functional due to disrepair. 

The lack of functionality in the buildings that aren't yet abandoned is incredibly common, not only in Telavi but all throughout Georgia. Even my school suffers from this, as do many spaces in the main business part of Telavi. What's even more common, however, is the repurposing of formerly abandoned buildings in dealing with the widespread, but not talked about, problem of Georgia's internally displaced people. These IDP's have been scattered to numerous locations within Georgia's borders, but are unable to return home. In some cases, it is because they lack the necessary funding to make it across the country to go back to their towns (many people around Gori in particular were left homeless after the bombings of 2008), but others are left homeless due to the ongoing trouble with the disputed zones of Abkhazia and Ossetia.

The current number of IDP's, according to the Internal Displacement Monitoring Center, is 273,997. That's in a country with a total population of a little over 4 million. So we're dealing with a huge percentage of people who are, essentially, homeless. Many are now in makeshift refugee camps (my friend Sophia visited a camp outside of Telavi, so if you're interested on her perspective you can find her blog post here) which dot the empty farmlands of Kakheti, Imereti, and Kartli, while more have taken up residence in formerly dilapidated buildings that have stood empty since the fall of the USSR.

Last semester, TLG brought all the volunteers together in a town named Tskhaltubo, just outside of the major city Kutaisi. We had a conference which was largely a publicity stunt to make the program look more appealing for possible future recruits. While I am never one to turn my nose up at the prospect of a hot shower every single day for four days straight, I did find the location choice to be...lacking a certain tact. 

TLG put us up at a resort spa. It was once a beautiful and expensive luxury retreat for high ranking members of the Soviet government. In fact, the theater room for our conference was used by Stalin and his cabinet. It was a strange feeling, being an American prattling on about the tectonic plates which are responsible for Georgia's landscape in a room where who knows how many terrible decisions were settled upon by Stalin and his cronies. What was even stranger, however, was that although the grounds of the resort were enormous, and a good chunk of the buildings in our part of the complex were abandoned, the resort was actually housing about 9,000 IDPs. I did not see any of them, as it felt weird to go out in search of refugees - but they were there all the same.

Tskhaltubo is mostly abandoned. Once a flourishing resort town, it is now primarily bones of expansive former luxuries. 

The walls inside the abandoned buildings give you a clue as to how recently people had been living in them. I'm not sure if the IDPs who were at our hotel were the same ones who resided in the [what I assume to be a] school on the main road, but at some point in the not too distant past there were absolutely refugees. 

Records on the floor give the date as mid to late 2008. 

I always appreciate some nice graffiti to make things more beautiful. 

A large hotel now being inhabited by people. Whether they're IDPs or not I'm unsure, but this building has certainly seen much better days, that's for sure. 

Inside the former hotel. It was a huge building, with beautiful [broken] domes and windows, as well as impressive masonry. These abandoned buildings are usually never improved upon before relocating people to live within them, so the insides often match the exterior in terms of upkeep.

Bullet holes in the walls make you remember, in case you had forgotten, the tumultuous past of many structures still standing. 

This must have been one of the most impressive resorts ever in its hayday.  It was a gigantic spa, sporting four floors, a concert hall, and even a personal house which Stalin himself favored heavily. A few of us wandered up the stairs, looking for a way inside, when we were met by some security guards. They were very friendly, both curious and surprised that three American girls had found their way to the hotel. They were even more surprised when we attempted to speak Georgian with them. The guards, named Irekle and Giorgi (what the hell else would they be named?), were extremely excited to show us all around the complex.

The first place they took us was up to the roof and attic. While this was probably not the BEST decision in hindsight, especially once we saw this seemingly grizzly scene, it did allow us a great birds eye view of the resort and surrounding Tskhaltubo. But you don't get a picture of that. You get a picture of what made all of our hearts almost stop until Giorgi explained to us that there had been a horror movie filmed here a few days prior. I mean, we should have known from the color of the fake blood, but when you're wandering through a dark attic, unsure where you're going, and you come upon this, your first reaction is not to get all CSI on it. You're going to be thinking, "Ohfuckohfuckohfuck!"

The balcony outside of the concert hall. We were curious about the burn marks, as we had noticed several in various rooms. Eventually we pieced together that they were from refugee's petchies, and that, until fairly recently, this resort had been serving as a home for a couple thousand refugees.

Down the opposite way from the previous picture. There are certainly worse places to call "home," but when your actual house remains unobtainable I don't think anywhere will ever feel right.

A baby grand piano in the concert hall. In Russian, it translates as "Red October," which is a pretty cool name for a piano!

Uh. Guys? I think it's going to take more than a bandaid to fix this place...

Since this was a functioning resort in the 60s, 70s, and 80s, naturally there were guestbooks [left]. As to what the book on the right is, I've zero clue. There were a lot of entries in the guestbooks from Polish guests, and many from the DDR. What were surprising, however, were the Americans. What Americans were doing in Soviet Georgia in the 60s is beyond me, but there was a shockingly large number of them!

Our guides took us to a room which used to be an administrative office. They got really excited, and grabbed a broom [handle pictured on the right] and started poking the top of a bookcase. A few seconds later, that...thing...on the left fell to the floor. They picked it up, put it on the table and told us to take a picture of their "jackal." I wasn't about to argue with them, so I did. 

On a very superficial level I love the amount of abandoned places in Georgia. They're full of intrigue and interest and I would be completely happy just spending the next ten years driving around, finding all of them, and creeping inside.

But that's purely for selfish reasons. It's not caring about why they're there, how they got to be in their current dilapidated states, and it's ignoring the fact that they have probably served as "home" to a family all too recently. It's easy to see them and think about what awesome paintball arenas they would make, or how they look like something out of a post apocalyptic movie, but then you remember they are, for Georgians, post apocalyptic. The satellite states really got the short end of the stick with the dissolution, and Georgia is feeling the ramifications of it over twenty years later. They're still rebuilding their infrastructure, still trying to fill the positions for teachers, doctors, surgeons, skilled laborers. It's a pretty big mess, honestly, which puts refurbishing, or even sparing a second thought to these abandoned spaces, really low priority.

One day, when I am so rich I just don't know what to do with myself, I'll come back and buy a lot of these decaying buildings and turn them into the most badass paintball arenas the world has ever seen.

Until then, I'll keep enjoying crawling around in them, and will always be reminded where I am when I see a line of laundry hanging out of a window of one of these "abandoned" spaces.

1. Georgians are particularly tight lipped about these things for two reasons. One is that they just don't see why it would be of any interest to you, so they've probably forgotten a lot of information themselves. But the more important one is that an American sniffing around for information on old Russian shit is, generally, a warning flag to many Georgians. When this program first started, a lot of Georgians, especially in smaller communities, were very skeptical of the volunteers, believing that we were actually spies. While it's not a super common belief anymore, as most volunteers from this program have just proved to be insane partying drunks and not world class spies, it's usually better to not ask too much after these places. Might as well try to be polite, you know?

Swearing

Unsure if you've noticed, but I've got a terrible mouth. Much to my mothers dismay, I swear an unnecessary amount. But I've actually curtailed my sailor mouth while being here, because naturally everyone knows my favorite expletive, "fuck." I've been super proud of my lack of audible cursing! It means I'm capable of being a decent sounding member of society still, and not only a smarmy, snarky, sarcastic human being. I even have made it a point to not learn Georgian swear words just to completely remove the temptation of using them.

So far, so good!

Oh, except not. 

In Georgian, the possessive first person (my and mine) is ჩემი. You use these possessives the same way you do in English - that is, before whatever it is that you're possessing. My table is ჩემი მაგიდა, my dog is ჩემი ძაღლი, and so on and so forth. 

I thought this was a pretty universal rule. And then I borrowed the Peace Corps language workbook, and found an interesting paragraph discussing possessive pronouns and family related vocabulary. With elder generations from you, you add the ჩემი to the end of the word. ბებიაჩემი (my grandmother), დედაჩემი (my mother), and so on and so forth. So I read this and said, "huh. Interesting! I should fix the way I talk about my mother, then!" (Since I was using the aforementioned ჩემი in front of mother). 

And then I read the following: 

NOTE!! Using ჩემი დედა instead of დედაჩემი is strongly discouraged since it is used in blasphemies! 

Well great. My stupid sailor mouth rears it's head no matter what! I've been essentially swearing at my poor family and anyone who will listen to me speak about mine for the past four months. 

Whoopsies!

A Nice Chart

The dotted line represents my level of acceptance and tolerance for Georgian Boy Shit.

It's amusing, because right as I was making the y-axis for this graph, something happened. 

Ani, earlier tonight, changed the password on her Skype account so that Goga could not get online and talk to her friends. I think that's a pretty fair thing, honestly, especially because most Georgian boy interactions with people involve them just yelling or making really loud and obnoxious noises or banging their hands on something. Basically, as long as they can make a lot of noise, and get a response out of you, Georgian boys are all about it.

So Goga gets on the computer at his designated time (my host sibs get into a lot of fights about who gets the computer for how long), which is just after Ani has relinquished the device. She comes over and sits next to me on the couch, and I quickly hide my Photoshop activities because her English is good enough to see what I'm doing. She's very proud of herself for changing the password, and tells me so. About six seconds later, a dismal cry comes from Goga, and he grabs a pencil and throws it at her. She laughs as she ducks away from it, and laughs more as he grabs another pencil and chucks it in the direction of her head.

And this is where things really escalated quickly.

We went from the pencils, to the foot long metal tongs that we use to stoke the petchie fire with, to a chair, and then a stool, and then just fists and feet. My host sibs were throwing the chairs and stools, punching each other, kicking each other, crying the whole time, running around the room crashing into things, and then just screaming at each other. All the while, my host grandmother is yelling at them, trying to get in between them, hitting Goga on the back while saying, "BOY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING" and my host mother, serenely, gets up from the couch and shuts down the computer without saying a word.

Once that happened, Goga ran into the living room bawling, and Ani screamed at him more before storming, also crying furiously, into the bathroom which, subsequently, sports the only lockable door in the house. 

And I'm just sitting here now, asking myself, "What the fuck just happened?" What more perfect timing for all this shit to go down than when I'm in the middle of making a graph to deal with my wanting to choke my host brother.

Oh, life. You've a funny way of working.

But seriously. They really need to go back to school. I cannot deal with another week of them being HOME constantly. When it's just the three of us in the early afternoon it's alright. Not the best, not the worst. Ani and I have a good time, but Goga is an eleven year old boy who loves to harass his older sister, and he knows exactly how to push her buttons so that even a very pleasant moment of us making cookies suddenly turns into a screaming match in Georgian where I feel like they're going to kill each other. 

Goga is your typical boy, especially for here. He gets into fights at school, he laughs way too loud, yells about most things instead of just speak at a normal volume, cries when he doesn't get his way (like when he doesn't know how to do his math homework so he whines at Ani and if she ignores him he cries and starts throwing things at her until she finally gives in and does the equations for him. That happens all the fucking time and it is infuriating.). You know, all sorts of things that I hate when anyone anywhere from any culture does. 

He's also, this week, started to do the most annoying thing ever. It's something that my particularly crappy students do, and I cannot express to you the level of homicidal feelings it induces in me.  I can't help but think they believe they're being hilarious because they know how fucking annoying it is. It happens no matter what question you ask of them - "How are you," "How is your day," "What day is it today," "Do you like the color blue." Questions that they know. Questions that are posed to them every single day. Questions that, even if you ask in Georgian, they answer "Yes" or "No" until my coteacher screams at them to not be smart asses. 

I'm used to it at school. Not at home. Home is like my sacred space for non-assholery child interactions. Ani is hilarious and awesome and we get along great. I'm not super close with my brother, though, because Goga's English is not that good. He knows more than he thinks, and can understand a good bit, but he is nowhere near the level that Ani is. I always make sure I speak to him only in English, and I always keep it even more simple than I do with my sister, but this week he's really pushing my buttons. His response, to anything, is always, "Yes." Or, "No, no no!" 

Now, you might be saying, "Wow, this chick is just a bitch with children!"

No, I'm really not. I've actually got a pretty decent maternal side [sometimes]. I just really hate assholes. Unfortunately, many children go through phases of being assholes as they grow, so I'm naturally disinclined to like them. I don't discriminate by age or gender or anything like that - an asshole is an asshole and they really just make me want to punch them in the face. Do I feel bad that sometimes it just happens to be a fifth grade boy? No. I don't.

So a typical interaction for us will be something like this:

Me, sitting on the couch, mindlessly surfing around on the internet. Goga comes and sits next to me and just watches my screen.

Me: What're you doing, tough guy? (a really frequent question I ask him or my sister.)

Goga: Yes, yes.

Me:  What? That's not an answer. How are you?

Goga: Yes. ....No. No! 

Me: Shen "yes" khar? (sometimes when I phrase what the fuck it is that they're saying, in Georgian, they realize how stupid they sound.)

Goga: laughs and claps his hands loudly Fine, thanks, and you? 

Me: I'm good. notice him looking at my screen and trying to figure out what the weird nebula picture Hubble took is Do you like space?

Goga: points at the screen and then claps his hands all while yelling Yes, yes yes yes yes really loudly and laughing

Me: Wow! I like space a lot, too! High five! puts hand up for a high five

Goga: high fives and then springs up from the couch, making incomprehensible loud yelling noises of a really ear shattering high pitched frequency, while stomping his feet and clapping his hands and then waving his hands in my face before he backs up about four feet from the couch and starts doing random Georgian traditional dance moves. All while yelling.

I really wish I was exaggerating, but that exact scenario happened a few days ago, and the laughing and making loud noises part has been a common interaction between us for while now. The difference being the kind of shit I just described isn't very frequent - on average it happens maybe once a month. And I can deal with that. 

What I can't deal with is this shit happening every.single.day.this.week. He's like a bored puppy. He's just been sitting around the house and has all of this energy and the only way he seems able to get rid of it is by being an asshole. His level of douchebaggery has skyrocketed over the last few days, and all I want to do is punch him in his smug little face.

I think I'm extra annoyed by my host siblings skipping school because it means they're always HERE. Normally, after school, I get a few hours of quiet time to myself. Time where I can put on some music and drink some tea and draw or read or write or do whatever the hell I want. It's wonderful. It's oftentimes my favorite part of the day because apparently I'm an antisocial bitchzoid. So this week has been extra taxing on top of the increased levels of Georgian Boy Shit that my brother is exuding. 

I love my host family. I really do. They're really great, and funny, and have been nothing but fucking wonderful with me. However, if my siblings do not go back to school next week, I will probably kill them. Or go insane and run out of the house laughing and ripping my hair out. Either way, it won't be pretty. So let's all hope that next week brings warmer temperatures, yeah?

If you give a mouse a cookie...

...or, as I like to say, "If you let a Georgian use your iPhone once..."

I made the dangerous mistake a few weeks ago of letting Ani, my host sister, use my phone to take some photos. She was bored, and I figured this would be a good way of keeping her out of our host mothers hair. So into the App Store I went, and upon her request I downloaded a camera called Retrica. If you're not aware of Retrica, you're not missing anything. It is a program specially designed for people to take selfies. But she's a thirteen year old girl, and I thought, "What could possibly go wrong with this?"

And nothing's gone wrong, per se, except for the fact that I've created a selfie craving monster. Add in the two neighbor girls who, three times this week, wanted to go out and take pictures of themselves, and I've got a whole cluster of teenage Georgian girls who insist on posing "nicely" for 100 pictures at a time.

This is what my poor photo library looks like. 399 pictures. I'm halfway tempted to tell my host parents I will pitch in money to buy my host sister a phone of her own so my poor phone can get a god damn break!

I'm about as much of a cam whore as your average upper twentysomething year old. I don't particularly like taking pictures where I intentionally look decent, because it feels silly, so I'd much rather just look as silly as I feel. Unfortunately, Ani is a thirteen year old girl who is caught up in this web of "everything must look nice always" cultural mentality.  Naturally, my weird faces and goofy quirks when taking pictures confused her at the beginning. I think she's finally getting used to my "monkey faces" (I really must look like a monkey, because my grandfather, father, uncles, and now a Georgian girl all have called me "monkey face"), and "big arms" thing. She still yells at me about the "big arms" thing, however, so I don't know if I will ever be able to get her totally used to that. I make it a point to be even more ridiculous in these pictures that the teenage Georgian girls force me to take - and I do mean force. They grabbed my face and put lipstick on me the other day, informing me that they wanted to "look nice for Facebook."

Oh, and have I mentioned that Georgians love Facebook? Cause they do. Most teenagers I've met don't do anything on the internet EXCEPT for Facebook. My host siblings both spend hours just clicking through photos of their friends, or of random pages, or chatting with people they know. And not that this is any different than most other teenagers, because I'm sure I did the same thing, but I also remember going onto forums and participating in eRPGs (Yeah, that's right. I joined a crew of an email role playing game of a fictional Star Trek ship. Cause that's a normal thing for an eleven year old to do...?), and making websites dedicated to god knows what, and forget the day that Space.com happened, because that might've just been the most marvelous day ever in my little prepubescent life. And I guess that's yet another perk of speaking English - a lot of vary diverse content is available to us online. Content that may not even be translatable into Georgian. But my host siblings don't do ANYTHING. They know Facebook, and Youtube, and some strange Russian version of Facebook, and that's it. No emails, in fact I'm pretty sure that most kids don't know how to even compose and send an email. All Facebook. All the time.

Anyway. Sure, little Georgian teenagers. Let's make sure we "look nice for Facebook." I'm glad that you've got the priorities down!

Inevitably, once we take a minimum of 20 photos, and a maximum that so far has yet to exceed 130 (Yup.), they will want the pictures IMMEDIATELY TO PUT ONLINE. With my sister, it's easy - I just send them to her via messages on, you guessed it, Facebook. Six at a time cause that's all you can do. But that's doable. I don't mind doing that. It becomes another matter altogether when dealing with more than one Georgian girl.

We spent an hour one night this week trying to get pictures from my phone to Rusa, my neighbor, because her Internet at home was out and she did not want to wait. She brought a jump drive over, and I told her that if it was formatted a certain way that my computer would not be able to work with it. She laughed, and then was confused when, shocker, my Mac could not read her Windows formatted USB stick. I tried explaining it again, and she asked me, "But, what version of Windows do you have?" No version of Windows. It is another type of computer. Mine and Windows do not get along. They are not friends. "...Is it Windows 8? I have Windows 7. That is why." No. No it's not. Mine is not Windows. At all! She then suggested that I take my phone to her house to plug into her computer. I told her no, that it would not work (Which I mean, it probably would have, but I wasn't about to a) go outside AGAIN, b) plug my poor iPhone into some Windows machine and c) have to deal with an interface on the computer that was probably in Russian or Georgian and has god knows how many weird ass viruses on it just so an impatient 14 year old can get some glamor shots where her face is completely over exposed!), and she suggested plugging her phone into my computer. So an Android media managing app download later, and still we could not get photos onto her computer. We ended up having to take out her micro SD card, stick it in my card adapter, and just give her the pictures that way. And I guess maybe I should have thought of that first, but why would I give any more thought to getting this chick her pictures when SHE WOULD JUST BE ABLE TO DOWNLOAD ALL OF THEM OFF OF FACEBOOK WHEN SHE GOT INTERNET AGAIN.

It was a really frustrating evening. Unsure if you've picked up on that one.

The whole "we must look nice constantly" thing is really starting to wear on me. It's an unrealistic expectation, and makes people just get incredibly petty and shitty with each other, all the while keeping women, especially here, in the outdated roles in which they find themselves. Which is why I insist on my default face for pictures with young Georgian girls to be silly. I want them to see that it's ok to laugh at yourself, and that you don't have to always good.

I think it's working a little bit. My host sister has gotten significantly goofier while I've been here, although whether it's her just getting more comfortable with me or I am actually making her weird is hard to say. I do know that before I came around most of her pictures on Facebook were your typical vacant eyed model inspired faces and poses that many girls here (and let's be real, anywhere with internet access) are so fond of. And now she has a few where she's got her eyes crossed, and her tongue is out, or she's making a sass face. I'd like to think a small part of that is me, but until she herself starts to do the "big arms" thing I don't think I'll be able to take any kind of credit.

Some Stuff

I've really been in the mood to write this last week, and I got all mentally prepared to pump out a post a day because I've just been that chatty! Sunday night I had all these things that I wanted to talk about, and I spent most of that evening plotting out various points about some topics to discuss. It was a good feeling, being able to finally feel worthy enough to join the ranks of millions of other upper twenty somethings with a lot of opinions about things we don't necessarily understand, all of us exclaiming "Yes! I am a blogger! Look at how bloggy I am! Boo yah, bitches!"

And then it got cold.

When it gets cold, my host siblings decide to not go to school. Instead, they lurk at home all day, screaming and hitting each other, fighting over the computer, and, if you're Ani, demanding that we bake something every day.

So that's what I've been doing this whole week. I get home from school (which has been hilariously short due to the cold, and most of my students staying home (........ugh.)), change into normal clothes, come into the petchie room and am instantly and voraciously greeted with a, "Johanna! Hello! Today we will make...[insert food here]!" This is about where Ani will realize we need one ingredient from the store, so she will say, "Johanna. You want Nardi [backgammon]? If I win, you go to store. If you win, I go." She always says this with a devilish grin, and rightly so, because she knows I suck at backgammon and the chances of her having to go outside are slim if we play with that as the prize. After a very vicious ass kicking, I usually trudge down to the store, ask a very amused store clerk if they have x item, and trudge back up the slippery cobblestone street.

So far this week we've made:
- Chocolate chip cookies (red and blue ones, which made me laugh really hard but I couldn't really explain to her why I thought it was so funny without going into a huge discription of Halo and what Red vs. Blue even is, so I just told her that I was being a weird American again)
- Pizza
- Brownies
- More cookies

My host mother yesterday yelled at us, informing us that we would get fat if we kept doing this. I'm inclined to agree with her, and Ani going back to school will be a delightful day for my rear end. Hopefully the cold breaks next week and she decides to be scholastic again.

Anyway, between all the baking, backgammon, and gratuitous amounts of pictures she keeps dragging me out to take (the next post will be about that, because goodness, has that been something else!), I've managed to finally take care of something on this blog that I've wanted to do for a while.

You might notice to the right there's a new little category called "Media Whoring" with some sparkly colorful circles and weird things inside of them (all of which can be downloaded here, with even more colorful circles and weird things inside of them!) They represent the various social media timesucks I'm a part of. Well, some of them. My favorite is currently iOS only, which is unfortunate because it's a super goobery weather app called WeatherMob and the people on there crack my ass up. But that's besides the point. The ones that I can actually link to this here blog of mine are all up there. It's currently an uneven number, which is driving me crazy, so I'm trying to think of one last one I can join and post stupid things on just so I can fill that last space. Subsequently, if you know of one, please dear god inform me!

Listed are Instagram, Flickr, Soundcloud, Pinterest (no clue why I put that one on. I think I was trying to make an even eight), Facebook (which just turned ten years old this week, so they released little promotional videos for everyone that was personalized based on their specific timelines. All mine did was make me realize that I've been on Facebook for eight years, which is easily the longest relationship I've had, second to World of Warcraft, which I clocked up at six years. After that were actual human relationships...I feel like I might be doing something wrong?), Twitter, and Foursquare.

Unless you're a part of any of these platforms, and you wanna like totes be friends, the only ones of interest you'll find are Instagram, Flickr and Soundcloud. Soundcloud especially. I've been surreptitiously recording various sounds while I've been here with the intent of putting them on this blog for a full multimedia experience of this goofy country. I'm a little backlogged in going through all the stuff I've got, but I've put a few clips on that site. They're mainly sounds from the Tbilisi Metro (which I love, and can't really explain why), and a bunch of singers from a festival this past fall. Apologies in advance for any idiotic comments my friends and I make during any of the recordings.

So there we go. This post is pretty pointless, except to tell you that I've not been lazy - in fact the exact opposite - and that I've made a few minor changes that basically just make this thing look a little bit fancier. I promise I'll actually put something of substance up in the next day or two, if not tonight.

Cold

Sometimes I make the very silly mistake of thinking that I look awesome.

This usually happens in the mornings, and it's usually following about a twenty minute long string of obscenities going through my head about how much I don't want to get out of bed, because outside of bed is the air known as "cold." It happens after I've stumbled to my dresser, pulled a skirt on over the long underwear I slept in, thrown a sweater over the top half of my long underwear ensemble, and then hiked up my super toasty wool socks over the long underwear bottoms - you know, so snow can't get all up in my business. Once I throw on my goober boots, I feel like one of those chic Norwegian women who always are all playful and cute in the snow. The ones who have the perfect hair and they're just loving every second of their polar afternoon because hey, they're in this super cute long underwear and pairing it with clothes and don't they look so comfortable and fashionable? They're the ones who don every winter style magazine cover, and who can make even the winteriest of the boots look good.

So as I've got this mental image of me being a super cute Swedish snow bunny in my mind (which I'm not remotely of Nordic descent, but we'll just skip right over that detail), I will, without fail, just happen to glance in the mirror on my way out the door. It's always far too late to do anything about my clothing, as I inevitably do not leave for school until the VERY last second, but I'm still always slightly horrified by the person staring back at me.

With my hood up, my look would not be considered "Norwegian Arctic Fashionista," and would instead fall into the category of "Homeless Eskimo Yooper Chic."

This is always kind of embarrassing, given how well put together everyone looks here. Women still wear very cute little boots with absolutely zero traction, and most have traded in their stilettos for the much more "practical" wedge heel. They wear sheer black tights underneath their adorable dresses, and have very black classy jackets. Their faces as they pass me in the street say, "Dear mother of tits, it is cold as all get up outside!"

And then there's me. Being all Yooper about shit. Stomping down the street with bright blue wool socks peeping over the top of my fuchsia lined stompy boots (seriously, these Columbia boots are fucking awesome), wearing my long underwear on the outside for everyone to see. My jacket is super poofy. My scarf extraordinarily fluffy. And guess what? I'm pretty warm!

The previously mentioned embarrassment of how I look always dissipates the second I see any other human being on the road, which usually means it's gone about two minutes after I step foot outside of the door. I see people sliding around on the snow because they might as well have smooth plastic trays strapped to their feet. There are folks walking in tandem clutching each other as they go so they can share body heat. The smugness I feel as I stroll on by, not slipping because my big ol' stompy boots have a crazy little thing called traction, only helps to make me warmer. It's an internal heat that starts to spread and it feels about as warm as the sunlight does on those cold winter days. I could try to dress all fashionable, but fashionable isn't warm. Fashionable will just make me cranky and cold and quite frankly that sounds just awful.

I used to be really good with the cold. I used to love winters. I used to go snowboarding with no jacket, doing runs in only a t-shirt and my snowpants, because I just didn't feel the cold. I was from upper Michigan, dammit. Lake Superior itself flowed in my veins, and that six month dead period we call winter couldn't touch me or bring me down.  And then somewhere along the way I became a wuss. Cold started to affect me. There would be a breeze on a 70 degree day and I would shiver like some simpering Floridian retiree. If it wasn't 75 degrees and sunny, I contemplated wearing a hoodie because it might get chilly, and wouldn't that be unpleasant? Living in California, where the coldest it would get is in the 40s (HA. Scare me later!), certainly didn't help, nor did my short stint in Texas. I complained if it wasn't warm enough in a house to wear only a t-shirt, and I wanted to be able to walk around barefoot regardless of the time of year and location.

My parents would keep the house at a frigid 58 degrees in the winter, letting it drop down to 55 at night. Sometimes we'd get crazy, and "crank" the heat to a balmy 62, but for the most part my folks were of the opinion that if you're cold put another "god damn shirt on." I used to think this was outrageous. I used to think it had to be some sort of child abuse. I mean, who are these fucking eskimo people that raised me? Who thinks that 58 degrees is an acceptable inside ambient temperature? Where is that considered alright?

Oh, young Jo. You were so foolish. You had no idea how good those days were.

Now that I'm living in a house that has exactly one source of heat, and it is localized in a room which is not my bedroom, I redact every single whine I've ever whined about being cold in Michigan.

Mom. Dad. This is my formal apology for being a wuss about the temperature in winter. I now know what true fucking cold feels like. Please give me 58 degrees. 58 degrees sounds fucking tropical in comparison right now.

I wasn't even this cold during the polar vortex of doom that the Midwest experienced this last December. It's 21 degrees and sunny outside right now, and I'm pretty sure it's about 29 degrees in my room. My computers battery actually stopped holding a charge WHILE IT WAS PLUGGED IN during the night because it was so cold. I think I've fixed this by dressing Helix (my computers name. Of course I had to give it a name, because god forbid I don't anthropomorphize everything in my life) in flannel shirts, as his battery was still going strong this morning.  My Nook, which is supposed to be able to last for weeks on a single charge, has yet to survive a night without dying. I've been sleeping in long underwear, wrapped up underneath my toasty sleeping bag and two big blankets, yet still my feet and hands are cold.

Ironically, the only time I'm truly warm is when I'm all "Homeless Eskimo Yooper Chic"'d up, and that's of course only when I'm outside.

As you can see through the frosted-on-the-inside glass, it's a blue and sunny day outside! If only it weren't cold as balls in my room!

It's crazy just how much the cold has permeated everything. I've been sitting in front of a burning petchie for a few hours now, even as I type this, and my fingers are little icicles. Copious amounts of tea aren't helping, and no matter how many clothes I pile onto my body still the chill advances.

If this is a prelude to getting sick, it can just stop right now. I refuse to succumb to the crippling illness that almost every other one of my fellow volunteers has contracted. That probably means it's time to go buy lemons to eat and get enough Vitamin C to say fuck off to whatever pathogens feel like attacking my immune system.

Seriously. Pretty sure if I can make it through this winter of no heat, then I can do anything.

The woods behind the house have excellent lighting when the sun is setting.

Unsure what type of pines they are (White, maybe?) but they remind me of Michigan.

Warm, soft light is always really misleading to just how fucking cold it actually is. Your iPhone's quickly depleting battery will remind you,  however, as will the lack of feeling of your face.

And then there are views like this. When the sky is super blue and the trees are all fluffy and big and covered in my favorite type of snow and the mountains are purple. I can sit and complain about how cold I am until I'm blue (and not even from hypothermia, RIMSHOT), but at the end of the day views like this make my stupid little cold heart happy and warm.