Stuff and Things

We received our placement information a few days ago, and I've been too lazy to properly talk about it, so I guess that changes now! Kakheti is the easternmost region of Georgia. The capital, Telavi, is slightly smaller than Marquette, sitting around 21,000 people. That's where I'll be - living with a host family who has their own house, complete with an indoor toilet, indoor bathroom, and (WHOA) internet! I'm pretty stoked to meet them. As much as I like Tbilisi, I am way more excited to see the rest of this country, particularly the city which is considered to be the most medieval city in all of Georgia. Why is Telavi medieval, you ask? Because it has ruins from four very different time periods - something no other city can boast! It is also in the middle of a vast reconstruction. All over Georgia, renovations on buildings are taking place to make them more livable and safe. Sighnaghi, another city in Kakheti, recently underwent this update, as did the old capital of Georgia, Mskheta. P.s. I find it endlessly amusing that Georgians keep calling Mskheta the "old"capital as if it was the capital back in the 1700s, when they last had a long stretch of independence from the Russians. In reality, they're really referring back to about 500 A.D., when Mskheta was the capital before King Dachi moved it to Tbilisi. I love that in this part of the world, old is actually fucking old, instead of referring to something from 1936 or whatever. It's pretty awesome. 

We head out to our assignments on Monday, and then apparently have a week to get used to our new families, meet the school teachers and principles, and just kind of chill out for a couple days. That will be nice. Maybe then my brain can slow the hell down and process this jumble of information known as the Georgian language.

There are lots of super neat things about Georgian that I really like, but am having a hard time grasping being an English speaker. First off, it's got a completely different alphabet. And while I really love it, and can basically read it flawlessly now (to be fair, it's at the speed of a 4 year old just learning words, but still!), there are times when it tricks me. I find myself many times writing a Greek letter instead of the Georgian one I want, even though I know the Georgian one. The same thing happened when I was learning Greek, though - I'd constantly be thinking of French words and slipping those in conversations instead of the Greek vocab I knew. So maybe this is just a case of my brain rewiring itself. Whatever it is, it's pretty annoying, because I KNOW what it should be, yet out of habit write something else.

Secondly, Georgians use postpositions for shit like "to" and "from" (-ში (-shi), -იდან/-დან(-idan/-dan)), and you just replace the last vowel of the word, or add onto it. Now, that's pretty cool, and it actually makes a lot of sense, but it's strange sitting there forming a sentence which in English has four parts and only having three words in Georgian. For example, "I am from America" is "მე ვარ ამერიქიდან" (me var amerikidan). The "from" is wrapped in the last 4 letters of the third word. Subsequently, I can change those last three letters to mean I'm going TO America, or I am IN America, and so on and so on. It's really a strange thing to get used to. Also, I have to say that this is the first time I'm learning a foreign language that has no genders, and it is so fucking awesome I cannot even stand myself.

Thirdly, plural forms. So, Georgian does the same thing English does to pluralize objects - that is, add an -s to the end of the noun. I really like that it does this, as it is one of the few really easy things about this language. However, you only ever add the -s when it's a general term, like "tables" or "cats" ("მაგიდას" (magidas) and  "კატას" (k'at'as). The second you have any kind of absolute number, like "3 tables" or "5 cats" you drop the -s, because the number already means it's plural, and the -s would just be redundant ("სამი მაგიდა"(sami magida) and "ხუთი კატა" (chouti k'at'a). Logically, that is awesome, and makes absolute sense, and I get why they do this. But my stupid English speaking brain hates this. Subsequently, I make the mistake of keeping the -ს a lot when I shouldn't.

The last bit that has been the hardest to grab hold of is the different p, ts, t, k, and various guttural ch sounds this language has. My awesome linguistic savvy sister sat me down one night with a bottle of wine and tried explaining the various aspirate sounds that a few of the letters represented. Now, I have to say, after actually hearing them in use I'm starting to distinguish which "t" to use, or which "k" to use. Hell, I can even tell you which "p" is which! But this fucking language has three different types of a sound like the "ch" in Greek and German (think of Bach if you need to verbalize this), with just SLIGHT differences. And quite frankly, when its nestled in between a sea of other consonants, with only one vowel in sight, they all sound basically the fucking same. These three letters, ღ, ჭ, ხ, are giving me hell. Again, I have no doubt that living in a household where these sounds will be commonplace will help dramatically with individualizing them. I'm not being a pessimist or anything, or throwing the towel of defeat in from now. All I want to do is strangle those three little symbols.

This has been a very rambly post, so I'll end it with some pictures of this place. Because seriously, it's so pretty I could puke.

Artwork in the Metro stop at Rustaveli Avenue. Probably for the Rose Revolution, if I had to take a shot in the dark...

The church in aforementioned "old" capital, Mskheta, called Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. I was bad and took pictures inside when priests weren't looking. This church has tombs of several old Georgian Kings, including the last one, George XII, when Georgia became a protectorate of Russia in 1800. 

Vineyard in the church courtyard. I wanted to eat one, but figured God was already pissed enough at me for  walking around such a venerated place with nothing on my head, so I didn't chance it. Georgia apparently has something wild like 9,000 types of grapes. 

Health care shenanigans

Let me just start this with six words: I am fine, nothing is wrong.

Ok. So, with that out of the way, Monday I went to a Georgian hospital! I ended up missing all of my language classes that morning in order to take the trip, but thanks to some very helpful fellow TLGer's, that isn't a problem.

It all started a few weeks back with what I thought was a heat rash. Marquette had been particularly steamy and gross, and heat rash was a perfectly acceptable answer for the itchy redness that started popping up all over my arms and upper thighs. But then I had to get on a plane, so there was a lot of doping myself up with Benadryl just to make the 9 hours sitting bearable. I found it strange that after almost a week, this rash was following me overseas. Georgia added a new fun twist to my itchy life - the tops of my feet and around my ankles randomly develop itchy spots, but they tend to disappear about as randomly as they appear. This doesn't really placate me, however, because I still find it annoying as shit.

So we had our orientation meeting about the health care and insurance plan we get while here. I find it endlessly amusing that I'm in a technically developing country and I have better health care than I do in America, but that's a whole other issue. Actually, it's not, because fucking shame on you American pharmaceutical and insurance companies. Ok, now I'm really done, cause I don't feel like going into a diatribe right this moment. Anyway, I spoke with the TLG medical staff after the meeting, asking them if they had any advice about what I should do. They got the mother hen horrified face, and told me that they would arrange for me to see a doctor immediately.

Tuesday rolls around, and sure enough, I'm told I have an appointment. Now, here's why I love Georgia. Instead of leaving me at the hotel while a TLG driver went out to the headquarters (about 40 minutes outside of the city center) to pick up Kate, the TLG med staff member who would be coming with me, and then going about 10 minutes out of the way to come back and pick me up before going to the hospital, the Georgians just said fuck it, and brought me out to the suburbs with them. I am way not complaining, because it was a pretty awesome excursion around Tbilisi, it just cracked me up. The circuitous nature of my morning continued at the hospital.

I hate to do a comparison this early in, but it was just such a stark contrast that I sort of have to. Ignoring all the other things that I'm sure people would nitpick this establishment about, the one thing I think would rattle your average, run of the mill American the most is how Georgians enter their doctors rooms. There isn't a nice waiting room with the sort of smug and judgmental receptionist who tells you when you can go in, at least not on this particular floor - there are a few small rooms around a large open space with chairs for you to wait in. But in order to know if you have to sit down, you have to open the door of your doctors office, and poke your head in. If there's no one with them, you can head on in. If there is, you just pop a squat in one of said chairs until the current patient vacates. Maybe they have ways of indicating that you shouldn't enter, but there wasn't any discernible one I saw.

The whole process was pretty entertaining, especially since Kate had to translate pretty much everything. She was awesome - super patient, really helpful. The doctor just looked at my arms, and basically told me to go see a dermatologist, so Kate and I hopped in the ridiculously small elevator (no seriously, it was about the dimensions of a twin bed, and about 7 feet tall only) back down to the lobby, where we took the note the doctor gave us, and they scanned my passport, insurance card, and pointed us down some stairs to the dermatologist. She was pretty friendly, and prescribed an antihistamine pill, a sedative antihistamine pill, an antihistamine cream, and some other liquid that is supposed to help moisturize the area. So we take her written prescription back upstairs to the first doctor, who writes out the order on a different, fancier piece of paper, and that's all. We're done.

After that, it's just a matter of taking that fancy piece of prescription paper to a pharmacy to fill it. By the way, those four things I mentioned? Yeah, it was a total of 11.50 GEL, so about $6 USD. With our insurance, all prescriptions are covered 50%, so I effectively only paid 5 GEL, about $3 USD.

Granted, I did not have a serious ailment, nor did I require urgent medical attention, but the fact that I was in and out of a doctors office, with a prescription, for less than $5 USD, in under two hours, is pretty fucking amazing. 

So as of this writing, along with the two antihistamines a day, 80 minutes a day total of the bottled liquid on the rash, and putting that box of gel on them, it's way less itchy, and going down. I'm also on what looks like a gluten free diet, since they also think the rash is an allergic response to something I'm eating. I swear to god, if it's actually a food allergy, and I can't drink my delicious IPA's ever again, I will choke a bitch. But I will wait until it's fully clear and then slowly start eating foods I actually like again (I miss chocolate, meat and coffee the most, and we're only on day three of this!). Upside is I guess I'll lose a lot of weight? Neat?

Tbilisi

I love it here.

This whole city has such a good feeling to it. It's full of little alleyways with bars and restaurants, and everyone is drinking, or eating, or both, usually with groups of people.

There've been a few times when not knowing Georgian (or Russian) have been annoying, but so far those are really the only language barriers. Everyone else either speaks English, or you can mime out stuff enough for them to get the jist of what you're saying. Except for cabbies. You're sort of fucked if they don't speak English, nor you Georgian/Russian. Also, they're insane.

Let me preface this by first saying that no matter how many moments I imagined fiery, awful car crashes, I have yet to see a single accident here. This caveat is mainly for my mom, who I am sure will just puke if she thinks of me being in a cab here after reading this.

Cabbies. Are. Nuts. Well, this entire city actually seems legitimately mental once you put them behind a wheel. Everyone kind of just goes willy nilly where they want, and people apply their conversational personal space boundaries (i.e. none) to other cars. This actually works out pretty well, because it really forces the driver to pay the fuck attention. Or so I tell myself. In reality, I think they're mostly just lucky. But almost every vehicle I've been in, be it a taxi or a marshrutka or the normal metro busses in Tbilisi, has Orthodox icons on the dashboard, so maybe that's also part of it. I find it a little disconcerting that on more than one occasion I've seen drivers do a quick cross before a light changes. And they always know when the light will change because there's a little countdown clock on the side so you know exactly how long you have to wait. That's besides the point, though - we're talking about how bonkers cab drivers are.

You know that scene in Fifth Element, where Bruce Willis is driving his floating taxi trying to run away from the cops right after Leelu falls through the roof of his car? That's Georgia, only add ridiculous eurotrash techno music to it, since that is what is on every single radio. The lines on the road are more suggestions that people don't tend to really agree with. Most of the time, cars will just drive right down the center of two lanes, and sort of move over if another car wants to pass them; although if the car is passing them on the left then that car will just go into oncoming traffic a bit if the other doesn't move over fast enough (hint, you can never move over fast enough). It's really understandable why TLG doesn't want us driving here - I'm pretty sure the insurance costs alone would run the program into the red in about a week.

 All of this being said, I have to admit that cab rides are some of the most fun I have ever had. Even if they are mildly terrifying. But hey, if you're not a little scared, what's the point, eh?

Ak!

Contrary to what you might think, I am not yelling "ACK!" in disgust or because something went wrong. It's just the Georgian word for "here." BECAUSE HOLY SHIT I AM FINALLY FINALLY IN GEORGIA!!!!


It took a while -  like a seven hour drive to Chicago, and an excruciatingly long night there (not by anyone's fault, just because of my own excitement!), and then a ridiculously long plane ride over the Atlantic, coupled with a super lengthy layover in Warsaw, and then the longest. Flight. In. History. To T'bilisi - but I'm here!!!!!

Before I get to Georgia, I just want to say that the highlight of the trip in Chicago was easily my 89 year old aunt trying to convince my sister to grow and sell marijuana (since it's legal, and lucrative, in Michigan to do so). Chicago to Warsaw was nice because the kid next to me and I spent five out of the nine hours just yapping at each other about shit - Star Wars, video games, ex relationships, etc - that by the time we actually were getting close to Warsaw, most of the trip was over with, and we had also squeaked in some sleep. The 8 hour layover in Poland was probably my favorite leg of the trip, though. A couple of us decided to say eff it to the airport, and after some hilarious shenanigans with the lockers to put our bags in, and the train tickets to get into the city, we found ourselves in the middle of Warsaw.  I am so bummed that we only got to run around for about an hour and a half - I could've easily spent days in that city alone. Warsaw, I'm coming back for you!

The plane to T'bilisi wasn't departing until almost 11 pm, and all of us (there were almost 20 TLG volunteers in Poland for this layover) were exhausted from however many hours of travel previous, so pretty much all of us slept on the last leg of the journey. I do remember waking up partway through the flight to the Georgian woman next to me putting a blanket on me and sliding a pillow under my head. When I woke up before we landed, she kept asking me how I slept, while simultaneously freaking out about how the plane was never going to land because something was wrong and that her ears hurt and she couldn't hear anything. 

And then Georgia happened. Wonderful, amazing, exhilarating Georgia. We didn't see much at 6 am driving from the airport to the hotel, but I did notice a lot of Soviet style apartments that are slowly being renovated to match the Georgian architectural norm. I mean to say, they're turning grey boxes with small windows into more livable, interesting spaces. Poland looked like it was in the process of doing the same thing. I guess when your country has been under a predetermined set of rules for a long time, the physical detriment is great. Most of the buildings in T'bilisi that we saw today were under some sort of construction. I'm not sure if it was to renovate them, or remodel them, or just that 200 year old buildings require slightly more upkeep than most, but given the fact that I'm from the midwest, where our two seasons are summer and construction, the work was noticed. 

All that said. T'bilisi is incredible. There are vendors and restaurants and shops and cars on the sidewalk and cars going in reverse at 40 mph in oncoming traffic and random Irish bars where everyone inside only sings English songs. The love I have for this city, after being in it for about 12 hours, is ridiculous. And it's strange to me to talk to the other volunteers - almost no one did any research on Georgia before they came. They kind of just let it happen, and will roll with whatever happens. And that's great and all, but it just makes me feel way too neurotic to travel. Almost like I don't belong in this demographic of 20somethingyearolds who are currently country jumping. I've wanted to come here for almost two years, and I've read blogs, and articles, and watched videos and found pictures, of just about any possible thing that goes on here. And I'm still way too excited to be here. It feels kind of like I'm broken, and that I'm expecting things because the internet told me to. And while I don't personally believe that's the case, because I have loved every second since we touched down, I'm concerned that others here think that since I can tell you what all the different regions of Georgia are known for (because I can, cause I'm a stalker like that) that it means that the experience is somehow lessened. I sort of see where they're coming from, as true spontaneity is always amazing, but given that this is something I have wanted for so long, and that I am so to-the-core happy about, there was just no way I wasn't going to look up every possible thing I could before actually coming here. 

At the end of the day I don't really care what they think, it's just strange to see the complete difference in them and me. Which is good. Everyone's been great so far, and with the other half of the volunteers arriving today, I can't wait to meet the rest! Plus, when I'm in a country that has a hilarious sense of humor, it's easy to not really care about much.

Kakheti!

This morning started out pretty eventful. Upon opening my email, my heart almost stopped at the sight of a TLG reply to my contract. Before opening it, my brain started firing at about 10293801984102948 bad thoughts per neuron, and I had convinced myself in the span of less than a second that there was a problem with my contract and that I would be unable to go to Georgia next week (HOLY SHIT I AM GOING TO GEORGIA NEXT WEEK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).

Thankfully, my think-the-worst nature was wrong.

All TLG was doing was giving me a heads up as to the region in which I'll be placed. Kakheti! Wikipedia's map will help show where this is!

This is Georgia's wine country. After doing some research, it looks like it consists of really lush forests, green foothills, and arable plains. Oh, and an insanely gorgeous river. A quick glance at Flickr for photos with the "Kakheti" tag can give you a better idea of the kind of diverse geography that's in this 4,000 square mile area. The capital of Kakheti, Telavi, is approximately the same size as Marquette, which isn't surprising given that the total population of Georgia is less than all of Los Angeles.  

Anyway, more to come about the area when I actually GET there and don't have to rely on the Internet for all my information! 

6 days!!

I'm leaving on a jet plane!

True to my contractual agreement, TLG sent me the itinerary for my flight today! They asked me to confirm the following:

So like, it looks a lot like mumbo jumbo to me. Obviously a few things off the bat are discernible, such as the dates, the airport codes, and even the 24-hour time (which is still tripping me up! I hate my super sub-par math skills!!). But the random numbers, the HK1, the +1 and the trippy asterisks? Those are not so helpful in the quest to understand how I'll be going over an ocean and a continent. 

And then I remembered that wonderful, amazing creation called the Internet. Every now and then I take it completely for granted, forgetting that there was a chunk of time when I was young that it wasn't readily available and useful. I mean, you used to have to BUY very specific types of books to understand things, and actually call and talk to travel agents for stuff like this. Thankfully that is not the case anymore! Fodor's had a whole forum thread on it. So using my handy dandy deciphering skills, this is what I've come up with!

There we have it! I'm leaving next Wednesday, the 28th, and will be getting into Tbilisi at 4 am on the 30th, with an 8 hour layover in Warsaw, Poland. I'm really hoping to be able to get out of the airport in Poland and check it out. Plus, it'd be another stamp on the passport, and seeing as how it's woefully empty right now, I really like that notion! 

Today, however, will be my last day of lazing around on beaches, joyriding the coast in a boat, picking blueberries on a river plain, or cuddling on the couch with the dog. Tomorrow starts the packing madness, the buying frenzy, and the overall jittery excitement of finally FINALLY going! I'm able to check one suitcase, and have two bags for carry on, so step one is doing a clothing inventory and figuring out what all I have and still need. And then step two is buying stuff I don't have, and figuring out where I can get a Bag of Holding so I can bring a shitload of books and school stuff for the kiddos. Step three is cramming all of the crap I need for an entire year into three bags, two of which are not full size. I'm getting really good at packing, however, and after converting an entire room into three suitcases, I'm confident this should be a relative walk in the park. 

I'm sure that in true Andronis procrastination style I will fully photodocument the packing process and then post it all here and write about it in a vain attempt to not ACTUALLY pack. Cause that's the proper adult thing to do!

The Upper Peninsula: An Abusive Relationship

The Upper Peninsula of Michigan (hereafter called the U.P.), is really one of the most beautiful places on Earth. It consists mainly of two colors: green and blue. In winter, you substitute green out for white, and blue for a slate-blue-grey. The only time it's not dichromatic like this is the fall, when it's an explosion of reds, oranges, and yellows. But the nice part of fall lasts about two weeks, so we won't really discuss it at this time. Instead, we will focus on the two primary seasons - the ones that account for most of the year.

Winter is a kick in the ass. It's beautiful, yes, but after about nine days of grey sky and it never really getting light, with no sign of the sun in sight, it gets old.

Summer, on the otherhand, is perfect. It's lush, vibrant, warm days with cool nights, pristine starry skies, and crystal clear lake water.

Evergreens and ferns, up on the Yellowdog Plains.

Sunset from Sunset Point.

Summer lulls you into this false sense of security. It tells you that it's great to live up here, and that everything is magical. It makes you forget about the months of drab bleakness, which hilariously take up about half of the year. But in summer you don't think about shoveling snow, or not seeing the sun for a week, or cold blustery wind that makes you wonder why you even got out of bed that morning. No. Summer makes you think you could stay in this amazing wonderland forever. That all of the prettiness is permanent (which, to be fair, winter is still pretty in it's own stark black and white way), and this euphoric feeling you have will carry over, come hell or high water.

Summer is when the U.P. buys you some flowers, and says "I'm sorry about the last seven months. I love you." It might even take you out for a nice dinner, and if you're very lucky you'll get a dance or two out of it. But then, after a short amount of time, Winter comes back. Winter storms (no pun intended!) through the door, yells at you about how you're worthless, and crap, and that you'll never feel good again. And Winter stays for months and months. It's lurking, every day, from November until late March, waiting to just kick you squarely in the face. It makes you question everything about your life - why you didn't go out and do something today, why you didn't get out of bed earlier to take advantage of the 8 hours of light, why you're constantly cold no matter how many layers of clothes you have on.

And despite all of that, I still look forward to winter in a really sick way. I've become trapped in an abusive relationship with this place. Even with my recent self diagnosis of Seasonal Affective Disorder (I say self diagnosed because after living in a place that has sun 360 days a year, it was very obvious that, after coming back to a location that's closer to the North Pole than the equator, the big glowy orb of happy was missing from the sky and that its absence had a direct correlation on my feeling like a human god damned being), which was alleviated by taking Vitamin D pills every day, I still don't mind it. Dealing with winter eventually means that summer happens, and summer here is as perfect as a slice of Heaven pie. And that seems to make it all worth it.

I never was bothered by winter when I was a kid. Winter meant sledding and snowboarding and snowball fights and forts. I remember longing for winter, actually. I'm not really sure when the change in my head happened, but it did. And no matter how much I tell myself that it's not as bad as I think it's going to be, the perpetual coldness I feel, even inside, takes its toll. But I'm starting to face it with a sort of grim resolve. Now, it's more of an inevitable. I can hate it all I want, but in the end, the Earth doesn't really give a shit, and winter is going to be all over our faces anyway. And granted, I haven't been here for a full winter in a long ass time, but considering I'm going to a place where winter is going to be a large part of my life, I figured I should probably make peace with it.

So here's to you, winter. You selfish jerkface. You cold hearted conglomeration of months that make me lethargic and crappy feeling. I can't wait to deal with you soon so that you can crush every iota of Jo-ness that is currently in my body and leave me an empty, shmerry, shell of a person.

Critter tracks up a tree behind the house.

I'm On My Way!

I've been waiting for almost a year for this.

I am so fucking ecstatic I can hardly contain myself. 

So now the fun part begins - legitimately packing, and learning the language. I'm 27/33 for the letters, which is fairly disappointing given Georgians similar aesthetic to Elvish, which I'm pretty sure I learned in like 2 days (yeah, I was definitely one of those kids who spent her time in high school writing letters to her friends in Elvish - none of whom could actually read it, but that was besides the point). I'm thinking I should also try to get a Russian phrase book, since so many people there speak Russian still (In fact, Georgia is pretty awesome in the fact that most people are bi, if not tri, lingual, and a lot of the signs in the cities reflect this. How cool is that?).

The problem with all of this is that it is ridiculously difficult, and feels really counterintuitive, to learn a language strictly by reading it. I've found some videos on YouTube of Georgian, and I listen to those every day just so I can get used to hearing it a bit in a vain attempt of not being THAT awful American that comes to their country and completely butchers every single word. Although, from what I understand, Georgians are very accepting and helpful to foreigners, and any attempt of speaking their language is appreciated. Juxtapose this with Americans, who get irate at any hint of an accent from someone new. It's going to be interesting! I cannot wait to finally get a chance to actually speak it a bit!

It's all feeling very surreal still. Like it's hard to believe that in 26 days I'm going to be heading over there finally. Especially since it's been an emotional roller coaster for the last 11 months. I think the best feeling of all of it, other than the fact that it's going to be incredible and awesome and holy shit I cannot wait, is that leaving California, and everything there, wasn't in vain. It's felt like the last few months I've just been a transient zombie, kind of going about daily business for no real reason. I gave up a lot of stuff in LA, and while I might not have been the happiest with my job or whatever, at least I had health insurance, a car, income, and a smidge of independence still. And after pretty much walking from all of that for the chance to go to Georgia, just for it to not happen, was rough. Really rough. Probably a lot more rough than I ever let on.

This email was a very welcome sight.

Lalalalalalala

Since my eyes need a break from the boring-as-everliving-hell Pola Negri pictures I'm editing, and since I'm fairly certain everyone that I have regular contact with is annoyed-as-everliving-shit with me, I'm going to just perseverate here.

I finally got a response from Georgia! I sent them my background check over two weeks ago, and just touched base with them to let them know I needed to change my airports when I got this back:

So like. I guess those 18 words (not including the salutation or sign off) seem to be pretty self explanatory - the airport change was not, indeed, a big deal, and that I am, actually, in the program and they'll send me my contract after the 15th.

So I guess it's a yes? Is it safe to get excited about it? Cause I'm a little bit wary. I know their last email was just as vague, saying "You've made the short list of applicants, all we need now is your completed background check and we will send you your contract." But where is the harm in just confirming I'm in? Is a straight answer so bad? Is this a soft yes and barring someone better coming along late in the application process I won't get kicked?

The 15th is their cut off date for applicants wishing to leave in August. So there still is time for them to say "On second thought, we're going with this other person! Sorry!" But the "will send" in there kind of sounds like it's a definite acceptance. I don't know! I don't know, and I hate it, and all I've done since I got this is alternate between spazzily freaking out to my sister and friend about how I'm so happy to go and then backtracking and questioning it and my future and life in general. I'm pretty sure I'm about to get stabbed by some parties in Michigan and California...

Referring back to my post about superstition, I'm very, highly, ridiculously, stupidly apprehensive to feel slightly happy about this, despite the fact that I am actually quaking with excitement and all I want to do is tell everyone I meet, stranger or friend, that I am FINALLY going to be able to go to Georgia!

I've started updating my packing list again, which is just an Excel sheet to figure out how much money I have to budget on trip items. Thankfully, I've added many more practical things to it, like long underwear, a pair of sturdy sandals, a first aid kit - things that will, you know, make my life easier while overseas. The first items originally on it were three different types of Moleskine notebooks (I already have one of these but lovelovelove it so why not get a second; one that I actually bought the other day cause I was stoked I found it in a store and I was impulsive; the last kind just because it is awesome and I am a notebook whore), a 35mm 1.8 lens for my Nikon, a bomb ass Swiss Army Knife!, and, finally, a super sweet camera bag. And after those things were placed into their little A Column cells, I got a massive brain freeze. I literally could not think of anything else I needed for a year abroad. Now, none of these are remotely useful for survival in a foreign country (except for the wicked cool Swiss Army Knife!), particularly one that lacks central heating and has water with microbes that my gut is way not used to dealing with. So I had to stop and approach this from a very Darwinian angle. Subsequently, the list has grown considerably since becoming pragmatic about it and asking myself what I actually need for my continued aliveness - go figure!

I know what you're thinking. "Jobags, isn't your list a direct defiance of your apprehension and superstition, since it's kind of implying a stable plan and success in a desire?" Oh, it totally is. It's a blatant transgression, actually. But I am trying to not let my life be ruled by my silly head anymore, because a lot of times it makes me wig for no good god damn reason. This list is a baby step in ensuring that I can, one day, get over it and take things at face value without questioning it 30 million times. That email was 18 words long. How many subtle nuances are in there? The answer is a lot of them, especially if you're a think-the-worst type of person like I am. But all that mindset has ever done is make me feel insane, so I'm trying to stop. Most people use drugs for this kind of shit, so I'll just make spreadsheets. Lots and lots of spreadsheets. That, and the trusted Andronis Sister remedy of closing ones eyes, plugging ones ears, and saying "lalalalalalalalala" really loudly. Cause if I can't see it or hear it, it's not real, right?

InstaRage

I'm a little bit ashamed to admit it, but I use Instagram. One might say I am way too into it, as I am sort of unabashed about checking it 900 times a day. To be fair, I really dig following National Geographic, and most of the photographers who work for it that also use this social media platform. It's pretty awesome to be able to see test shots, and a small sample of the numerous amazing, unpublished photos that don't make it to the final printings. Plus, depending on the photographer, they will usually add a little description about how they had to wait 4 weeks to get the perfect shot, or talk about the kind of elements they had to sit through for hours all to get a timelapse. Or, in this case, the challenge of shooting a fairly regularly scheduled geyser with one of the first methods of photography.

It's pretty incredible, that wet plate collodion process. And it's wild to think that our digital cameras, which are capable of so much, came from the very basic, yet complex, medium format cameras from the turn of the century. After I converted my bathroom into a super janky darkroom so I could develop photographic paper shots out of the pinhole camera I made, I have a supreme respect for early photographers. Especially ones that were out in the wild, trying to capture bits of these undiscovered lands for themselves and others enjoyment. Do you know how hard it is to light tight shit? I mean, I had the help of aluminum foil - these guys had to carry around entire booths where they could prepare the camera, and then develop the shot immediately. Mad, mad, mad respect. 

As a quick semi related sidenote, I am also an internet junkie. One of my favorite things to do is read YouTube comments,  which if you've ever taken the time to actually read them, you know they're just...not really worth reading. But sometimes I get amused by various forums and message boards online where people feel the need to discuss things, so occasionally I will read the comments on Instagram.

A quick scan of the comments for this particular picture left me very irritated, so naturally I went digging for more. Amidst the praise and the awe most people had, a few comments stood out to me, so I've compiled them in one file. I've even been super nice and blurred out their names! Look at me being so diplomatic!

First off! Good for you and your point and shoot! Do you know how many people can sit at the scenic outlooks and snap a quick pic of it when it's erupting and it's going to look similar to that? Shut up.

Cool story bro? Seriously? Even if this guy didn't mean to sound douchy, and even if he legitimately thought it was a cool story (cause to be fair, it is!), those are three words that just drip with sarcasm no matter what when posted online. Shut up.

Take it with a real camera?!?!? WOMAN! He took it with an ORIGINAL TYPE OF CAMERA!!! WHERE DO YOU THINK MODERN PHOTOGRAPHY CAME FROM!??! Your opinions and your crappy bandana are bullshit, not this mans picture. Zip it.

I don't really understand how someone can be blase about our national parks. I really don't. Like, even the Grand Canyon, which is just a big hole in the ground, is fucking beautiful! And Old Faithful is unique, and is on a natural timer, and how can that not be as great as you thought?! It shoots out like 30 feet straight into the air! It's ridiculously cool! Are you upset that it doesn't sing Justin Beiber?! Is that why it wasn't as great as you thought? 

And finally, yes. It would have been faster and easier to just use a digital camera. But half the fun of photography is working with your camera, and interacting with your surroundings, and waiting for the perfect moment to actually take a picture. I still like to shoot with film on a regular basis, just because there's something really awesome about not getting the instant gratification of knowing what your picture looks like right that second. And when you only have a fixed number of exposures (in this guys case, 1!), you're more thoughtful, you plan and frame things out, you pause more. It's a completely different experience than shooting digitally. 

As Shepherd Book, from Firefly, so eloquently puts it, "...cause how you get there is the worthier part." That's what this picture ultimately is. Peter Essick could have used his ridiculously awesome DSLR to take this shot, and it would've been beautiful and an overall great picture. Instead, he chose to actually work for it, to make something completely unique and out of the ordinary, and have a far more memorable experience. 

The TL;DR of this post:

Don't read comments on Instagram because they are, for the most part, idiotic and just will make me rage.

Photography is awesome.