Deutschland and Other Stuff

I’m currently stuck in the Tbilisi airport, at 5 am local time, waiting until 7 for the busses to run, so I figured I might as well write something while I drink my wicked expensive airport coffee.

Break was good. It was exhausting, though, which is strange because I didn’t really DO that much. Being home for a month was deceptive – I kept thinking I had all the time in the world to see everyone and eat all the food I wanted, and it so did not happen that way. The polar vortex was pretty intense, and we didn’t even get it that bad thanks to Lake Superior and its awesome protective ways. Figures that when I had originally planned on going to Thailand Nature would be a dick and say, “Listen chick, this is what you get for wanting warmth. ENJOY YOUR SUB ZERO TEMPS, LOLOLOLOLOL!” Since weather patterns on a hemispheric scale totally revolve around me, didn’t you know?

My eight hour layover in Munich was pretty awesome. Lufthansa has now replaced Air Canada as my favorite airline, simply because they organized us into lines pre-boarding based on our seat rows. For some reason, it reminded me of Disneyland rides, and I got ridiculously happy about that. And then the equally ridiculously strong gin and tonic the steward poured also made me pretty happy, as did the two glasses of wine he gave me during the meal. If I could have that man just be my bartender for life, I’d be way ok with that. And maybe it was because I was a little tipsy, but I also got super happy about the pretzels they gave us which were a bunch of different shapes, including a hat, some lips, and hearts. Basically, Lufthansa encouraged me to be a snacking lush, so now I love them.

 

I was so stoked about the amount of gin this man gave me that I just had to draw a picture of it to remind myself later about how stoked I was! But really, I'm not exaggerating these ratios.

Unsure what it is about in-flight entertainment, but for some reason I’ve noticed international flights are full of two things – screaming children, and at least three people in my immediate vicinity watching the Big Bang Theory on their personal screens. It’s happened the last few legs of this increasingly long journey, so maybe I need more data to fully back up this claim, but for now my hypothesis is that the Big Bang Theory must be the only decent thing on airplanes that people can choose to watch. I don’t need more flights to tell you that screaming youngsters are obnoxious, however.

Germany is beautiful, especially down by Munich. It’s all forests with these weird trees that look like they’re made of frosted glass and green green farmland and the Alps looming over on the horizon. Every person I interacted with was incredibly friendly, which was not something I was really expecting. The only person who was unamused was the exchange teller, and me exclaiming, “Jesus Christ! Seriously!?” when he handed me my fewer-than-anticipated euro’s probably didn’t help. Whoops. But really now. Dollar. Holy crap. Step up your game! I want to come back to Europe in this life, and apparently I will need like $70,000 USD just to have a somewhat enjoyable time!

Well, that’s not entirely true. I had a pretty enjoyable time for the four hours I was there. The train between the airport and the town center took 48 minutes (German precision!), and was clean, quiet, and balls expensive. Ok, so 11 euro for a day pass probably wouldn’t be that expensive under normal circumstances, but given the current exchange rate it totally is, and like hell was I going to sit in some airport for eight hours! The Marienplatz (city center) of Munich seems pretty lackluster based on the dingy underground metro stop. It was actually more depressing than Tbilisi’s metro platforms, which made me wonder what I’d find above ground. Instead of equally shady and run down buildings, I was greeted with a cheery cherub and fish fountain surrounded by gothic and modern architecture in a weird conglomeration of local bars and major retail chains for electronics, clothing, and furniture.

Stop it, Munich! I can't handle you!

I spent a good two and a half hours just wandering around, exploring little side streets and alleys, and being almost dumbfounded by the sheer SIZE of everything. There were huge plazas every few blocks, and ostentatious statues of giant lions, fat gargoyles, and judgmental Austro-Hungarian leaders staring at you from each nook and cranny. Every building towers overhead, to the point where most of the streets are incredibly shaded until you come to the inevitable open plaza that is bound to be three minutes away from where ever you are. Due to the insane number of churches sprinkled around the Marienplatz, every 15 minutes there was a chorus of mismatched bells that would drown out the numerous street performers who were either playing solo or in groups of strangely combined instruments. Trombone, guitar, and upright bass? What? They sounded cool, though,  and I especially appreciated that the chick was not only playing the trombone but that she was a pretty big badass on it. There was an inordinately scary number of mimes in spray painted gold or silver trench coats, hats, and faces, who just honked a horn at people as they passed by. Ok, so there were only two, but that's two too many in my book.

Everywhere there are cafes and restaurants, most of which have outdoor seating on the sidewalk. It was an unseasonably nice day, with a high of I think 45ish, so I was able to grab a coffee outside and draw for a bit before striking out in a new direction again. The open air market down one of the streets was in full bustle, selling a huge variety of fruits, vegetables, cheeses, meats, breads, and beer. I ducked into one of the little restaurants in there which had canopied outdoor seating. For some reason it was decorated with really tacky garland, and a lot of scary clown masks, all of which I didn’t notice until I had sat down and ordered a beer. In fact, my exact words were, almost pathetically, “I just want a beer,” to which the reply was, “Well, you are in luck, because we have much beer!” Thanks, super cute German guy! I ended up getting a locally brewed brown ale which was beyond tasty. I don’t think the guy at the table across from me enjoyed my shit eating grin while I was drinking this beer and scribbling in my notebook, because every time I looked up he was just staring with the biggest stink eye ever. Sorry dude, I was having a good little time drinking beer and listening to some Rammstein, so you can just deal with it!

 

Took a selfie without looking like I was taking a selfie, due to previously mentioned unamused older German man glaring at me. 

Super tasty dark beer that super cute German boy suggested. Also, some of the [non] creepy clown decor at the bar. The stuff on the walls was way scarier! 

Munich is definitely a place I want to come back to, especially in the summer. Even today, mid January and not particularly nice weather, it was bustling with activity. Everyone was walking a well behaved dog, or laughing outside of the café’s with their friends, or taking pictures of the beautiful architecture all around them. It had such a good feeling to it, and I’d love to stay a bit longer next time.

 

German seriously cracks me up. Even something simple, like "bison meat" sounds like something a person would just scream at you. "Yes, hello. Welcome to my butchery. Would you like some BISONFLEISH!?!?!?" 

Child laderhosen. Adorable.

Every single window that wasn't for some posh clothing company was basically just a shitshow sampling of the items for sale inside the store. The one for the camera shop was insane. It was like a photography porno with all of the Leica lenses on display that I will never be able to afford!

A wide pedestrian avenue that wasn't really a pedestrian avenue. It was labeled as foot traffic only, but there were about five different vans and taxi's that rolled on down this stretch in the time it took for me to snap this shot and get to the plaza at the end.

I felt pretty silly most of the day. Not only was I super touristy with my gigantor DSLR around my neck and a goober backpack strapped to my shoulders, but I was also alone. It’s lucky that every person I encountered spoke English, because I was unable to think of a single German word the whole time I was in country. My dumb brain kept jumping to Georgian, and while that is awesome now that I’m back in Tbilisi, at the time it was very frustrating. I couldn’t even remember how to say, “hello!” I mean, we’re talking about basic 7^th grade German shit that I should know, aside from the fact that I’ve been listening to Rammstein for years! However, I was once again reminded how lucky I am to be an English speaker given its global presence. Is there any reason that a waitress at a coffee shop should know English in Germany? Not so much. Nor is there a reason for the random person waiting for the train to know enough English to answer my stupid question about the train. I was impressed with how well I got along today not being able to say a single word in German while in Germany.

And now I’m back in Tbilisi, with its nebulous timetables, infrastructure that is precarious at the best of times and nonexistent at the worst (for example, in the last two weeks I’ve gotten two emails from TLG – one to tell us that they’ve recently restructured the whole programs administrative staff, and the second to tell us that our insurance company has gone bankrupt and we do not have insurance right now. Actually, the email was pretty hilarious, so let me finish this thought and I’ll come back to this tangent in a moment!), and flocks of birds that live inside the airport. After spending a month in America, and dealing with all non smoking public spaces, it made me smile to sit at a table in the café next to baggage claim and see all the other patrons smoking like chimneys inside. Ah, Eastern Europe. I’ve missed you.

Ok, so this aforementioned email is basically a great introduction to the type of country Georgia is:

“Dear TLGers,

You know that TLG is providing certain types of services including health insurance. We are sorry to inform you that the insurance company taking care of our volunteers’ health has gone bankrupt. Due to this fact we cannot offer health insurance for some period of time.

We are writing to notify you that temporal improper fulfillment of obligations are caused by force majeure circumstances. TLG is working hard over this issue and we are trying our best to make health insurance active in a timely manner. New insurance will be available in some period of time.

You will be informed about the updates of this health insurance matter as soon as possible.

We hope all of you will stay healthy and won't need any medical services!”

Love it.

Almost as much as I loved watching a homeless guy hug a gigantic mean ass goose today on the street. It must have been his pet or something, because it was just chilling next to him until he decided he had to hug it like right then, so he was laughing and smiling and sweet talking it (or I assume sweet talking, because everything in German sounds like they’re pissed) while it was squawking and biting the shit out of his jacket. I smiled at him as I walked past the pair of them, and he looked at me and said, “Liebe!”

Liebe indeed, sir.

Just be a kargi gogo for Christ's sake...

I had an absurdly good little weekend. Well, actually the last two weekends have been good. A lot has been going on in little old Kakheti! I guess the shorthand form of all of these events would be this:

Wedding! Time to supra and dance and drink!

Door upstairs installed. Supra!

Leftovers from last night. Supra!

Birthday. Let’s go to the village and have a supra!

Friday. Take a shower, get in a taxi, go to Tbilisi, eat [super tasty!] Thai food, go to a house party with some random people your friend knows, at 2 a.m. decide that you want to go dancing, proceed to the [one] gay club in Tbilisi and dance to really awful techno until 4:30 am. Pass out at hostel.

Saturday. Wake up, eat McDonald’s cause you can, spend the day walking around eating delicious food and drinking wine and watching the festival, chug 2 lari liters of wine with your friend, go running around the streets, go falling in the streets, go to a strip club accidentally?, go to a bar that has a huge beer pong tournament, decide you are done with the fun and want to sleep so trek back to hostel. Pass out, but not before sending some wild ass text messages.

Sunday. Everyone hungover, insist on listening to a brass ensemble and get a lot of dirty looks from the hungovers, sit on the roof of a building and listen to Alt-J while watching Georgian shenanigans in the square below, leave Tbilisi, resume semi normal life.

It was really great to see a bunch of TLG people from the other regions. Not that I don’t love my Kakheti friends, cause they’re a very goofy group of people and great to travel with, but it was cool to see a few folks who are in the West that I haven’t really talked to since orientation. I find it strange we all get along so well. There aren’t really a lot of similar personalities here, and while there are a couple people I have zero interest in ever spending any sort of quantifiable time with, the rest are actually very fun to be around. I guess that’s what happens when your common denominator is English and being foreign in a country together. 

Even though I’ve been told numerous times that I look Georgian, my whiteness feels very obvious. Being stared at on the street, or in stores, is not something I’m used to yet. That's one great thing about trapsing around with other TLG people - I don't feel quite like the star attraction of a three ring circus. The other thing I'm not used to is my role as a foreign woman, since women in Georgian culture already exist in a very contradictory bubble.

Traditionally, women are supposed to be virginal until they get married, while their husbands are expected to be educated in sexual ways by the time they take a wife (can you see where this is going?). Women take great pride in how they look, and often dress way non conservatively. Think of Hollywood and how girls dress there – stilletos, mini skirts, see through shirts, boots, tight dresses. Now apply this to a culture where women are, theoretically, not sexually active when single, and are regarded as these innocent creatures. Strange? Oh yes. What’s even more strange is that, as a foreigner, I can’t dress like that without eliciting many negative outward opinions. Georgians who see women from other countries dress the.exact.same.way.georgian.women.dress. think that these foreign women are either prostitutes, or clearly have no kind of self respect for themselves. Unless, of course, that foreign woman has a boyfriend or husband. A significant other is kind of a do-whatever-you-want card as a foreign woman here. Smoking and drinking in public are also right out, as only prostitutes would do those.  So, permutations of wearing any kind of suggestive clothing, smoking, and drinking in public as a foreign woman is basically an invitation for Georgian men to assume that you are loose and would therefor be down for a one night stand so they can get some experience under their belt. It makes sense that, when your native demographic of women is virginal and your men are expected to know what ding dong to put in what hoo ha or what have you, these men would naturally turn to women NOT from inside their culture.

Navigating what’s culturally polite and acceptable is a bit of a challenge. I’ve accepted that I will already stand out like a sore thumb no matter what, namely because of my complete lack of fashion sense. A lot of times I think Georgians are torn between proving they’re ridiculously wonderful hosts and dealing with the seemingly wrong feeling of giving a girl a lot of wine at a supra. I try to ease this a bit by just refusing to drink quickly with everyone else at these events, but I’m still curious as to what all I’m socially “allowed” to do.

Another thing I’m not used to worrying about is my so-called reputation. Even in Marquette, which is just slightly larger than Telavi, I could basically do whatever I wanted and no one said boo about it. But here, everyone knows everyone else, and everyone talks. So if one passerby on the street sees me having a beer outside a café, alone during the day, they will assume that I’m open for business, and this reflects poorly on my host family. Running, actually any form of exercise, is also strange here, and while part of me wants to rebel and say “You know what, I have changed a lot of stuff to fit in culturally, I think these folks can deal with me doing one or two weird foreigner things,” the lazy part of me actually likes this as an excuse NOT to run. This reputation thing is one wonderful reason to travel on the weekends, however. Tbilisi is large enough that you can do whatever you want and no one will really care one way or another, while other towns and villages don't have anyone in them whose opinion of me I care about. It's a very wonderful feeling to have a day beer and not worry about it effecting my job as a teacher. 

This seems like it’s been a very negative post. I don’t mean it to be. I love Georgia. I think this place is bizarre, and strange, but weirdly logical in some ways. It’s beautiful, the people are very friendly and appreciative. It’s just got a few gender issues that I’m having a hard time sorting out. I knew this coming in; it’s just one thing to read about it and it’s another thing to realize that you have, actually, changed a lot of stuff all because of what’s in between your legs. This country is wonderful if you’re a man. It may just be paradise, in fact. But there are a lot of unspoken rules that women need to follow to be considered a kargi gogo (“good girl”), and let’s be real, at the end of the day, that’s all we want to be!  

P.s. kargi gogo might just be the most hilarious and best phrase ever.