Telavi Life

My host mom is a pretty impressive woman. She wakes up at about seven in the morning to get breakfast going and gets ready to work, then she puts in a full day of teaching at the preschool. When she gets home at four, she starts dinner, or makes a little snack, and then starts cleaning around the house. This has lately meant tidying up the construction area on the second floor. Why she has to do this, I’m not sure, but I do know that today it included not only bits of leftover wallpaper, but also a random hypodermic needle just lying on the floor. Cause you totally need that when you’re renovating upstairs bedrooms. Oh, and we also threw gigantic twelve foot long planks out the second story window. And threw a few doors out said window, also. And hauled a gigantic tarp full of wallpaper scrap down to the backyard so we could light it all on fire.  And then just left this huge pile of trash burning while we went inside and chatted with a neighbor. I guess when you don’t have a landfill system, or some kind of environmental bureau on your ass, it’s pretty much do whatever the hell you want with your garbage!

It’s funny, because Georgians make a lot of stuff happen with very few materials. They are the masters of jank. They’ve perfected it, and it is super impressive. Subsequently, having spent a large chunk of my life surrounded by Yooper jank, the Georgian way of doing things doesn’t seem that out of the ordinary. My mom and I walked up the road and went down a little trail yesterday to get some water out of a pipe in the side of the hill that spits out a really heavy stream (ha, period joke, boom) of ridiculously cold water. We filled up a huge jug with it, brought it home, and then she disappeared out back with it. What it’s for, I still have no idea, but I know damn well that it’s most likely essential for the house running, so I’m not going to question it. Our house has a seemingly unending supply of water out of the faucets – all the sinks and shower work, and we have a washing machine. What that jug was for I am at a loss, unless Georgians have secretly found a way of creating shitloads of water out of a few gallons.  Although, considering they are just now getting scientists and agriculturalists back in the country for the first time since the collapse of the Soviet Union and the resulting “brain drain,” I find this highly unlikely.

I think my favorite part so far (I keep talking like I’ve been here for a long time, when it’s really only been like three days) is when my mom and I get some fruit and go walking down the street to Leah’s house, where we sit out front and they judge the everliving shit out of all the cars driving by and the noisy kids playing down the street. It’s nice to just sit and listen to them, and I’m finding myself able to pick out words here and there, but more importantly discern what some of the verbs are and how they’re being conjugated. Of course, that doesn’t help me at all, since I still have no idea what the fuck they’re referring to, but whatever. It’s progress, and I’m gonna chase that feeling! Although, if my brain could shut the fuck up with the Greek internal monologue I have going when I play the “what would I say to this question” game, I’d really appreciate that. However, the overall feeling - the camaraderie, the affection for each other, the loud talking and laughing and closeness the neighbors all have - reminds me a lot of being around the family in Chicago. It feels very natural, and very familiar. It's nice. It's made me really happy that I grew up with an insanely animated, loud, everyone-in-everyone-elses-shit family, because that's what these communities are. 

While I'm over the moon happy to be here, I find myself almost breaking down on a near daily basis. It's like I look at a tree, and am just so happy that this tree has figs that I can pick off the branches from the street, and it fills me with this crazy affection to this tree and I almost start crying out of happiness about it. And forget the mountains. Or the buildings. Or the people in general. It's all just making me so happy I can cry. I finally understand my mom and sister at the end of Homeward Bound, when Shadow comes limping over the hill and Peter runs over and they're reunited. I used to make fun of them when I was little, because why would you cry when you're happy? I swore up and down from ages 5-24 that I wasn't going to be that person that cried whenever they were happy, and now I'm totally one. Although, I haven't actually done it in front of anyone yet, because I don't want to be THAT person in the program. Bully for me, I suppose! Anyway, it's hard to really express how I feel about this place, other than it feels...right.

On a less serious and deep note, because whoa...

My house currently doesn't have internet, as a car ran over the cable and it's out (what?), so I've found a few places nearby that have free wifi. It's weird not being able to just hop online whenever I want, and it's doubly strange not being able to use my iPhone to look things up whenever I want. I resigned myself to not being able to have constant internet, and I figured it wouldn't be that bad to deal with. And it really hasn't been bad. But a few of the kids in the program thought ahead and brought unlocked smartphones with them, so they were able to get a micro SIM card from TLG. Know how much the data plan here is? You're all going to punch me, but for 15GB of data (so about 5 times what you probably have with Verizon or AT&T), it's 5 lari to set up (3USD about) and then 50 tetri a month (so like .26 USD). Yeah. I don't think I'm ever fucking leaving this country. Anyway, now that I know this is a possibility, it's just sitting there, tantalizing me. Every time I look at my iPhone it's basically just snickering at me, saying "Haha, you fool! How could you not even think to unlock me! I'm supposed to be a great international phone! What were you thinking!!" How's that for being a shitty First World Problem? "Wah, I went to a place that has an unstable power grid and didn't think to unlock my ridiculously amazing smartphone so I could have 3G coverage while there, all so I could look up pictures of cats whenever I wanted! Womp womp!" 

I'm trying really hard not to be a shitty American about things, and I think so far I'm doing a pretty good job. The smartphone thing, though, is a tough habit to shake. Especially since I never really realized just how MUCH I used it. It's making me slow down a bit, though, and not worry about what everyone else is doing around me, and focus more on what all is right here. I've been drawing a good bit, and reading some Emerson, cause apparently traveling abroad is also forcing me to go through a transcendentalist phase, which is something I never thought would happen. 

All that being said, I'm totally about to call Verizon and throw a shit fit about things until they unlock my phone, since apparently they were giving my mother a hard time about it. I figure with my iPhone unlocked, if anything, I'll be able to text fellow TLG volunteers with a normal keyboard again, instead of the archaic keypad typing that was popular back in 1999. That's really why I want to switch. Plus all of the lolcats. We can never forget the lolcats.

My little TLG-provided phone. He's awesome, and it's like doing a time warp back to being 18 and texting with the old brick phone we used to have, but damn. Go hug your touchscreen keyboards, everyone. Tell them how much you love them, and appreciate them!

Still a crap shot, as the Caucasus mountains are under a seemingly perpetual blanket of fluffy cumulus clouds, but this is about  four steps out from my front door. Rough life, eh?

Georgian Hospitality

A recent article listed Georgia as the third most hospitable country in the world. All my research of the country echoed the recurring themes of "Georgian kindness," and "the warmth of the Georgian people." Yet upon finally getting here and actually interacting with people on the street, I found it was  just the opposite. The first few days were very strange because I noticed no one smiled. I'm a pretty friendly person to strangers on the street, and will at least shoot people a smile, or a head nod if they happen to make eye contact. But everyone here walks around with a very stoney face - no expression, no looking at other people, no acknowledging other human beings exist. I found it all a little disconcerting.

And then, after having a few phrases under my belt, I noticed that the second you actually initiate a conversation, especially if you try in Georgian, folks just light up, and become incredibly animated. Having made it to my host family's house last night, I finally understand the meaning of "Georgian hospitality."

My family lives up a cobblestone street off of another rubble strewn road off one of the main thoroughfairs in Telavi. The upstairs is currently under construction (I get one of the new rooms when it's finished!), but the rest of it is very warm feeling, very homey. Especially the kitchen, which is hilariously where I have spent most of my time. My host mother, Maghka, is this really vibrant woman who doesn't speak English - she only knows a few words here and there. Naturally, upon finally meeting her, I was so nervous and excited that any Georgian I learned over the last week just went straight out of my head. Conversations right now are a weird mix of me slaughtering Georgian, just straight up making words I think COULD be Georgian (adding an -i to the end of most things seems to work well), and lots of gesticulating. When I get back Stateside you will want me to be on your charades team. However, I have gotten a lot of bonus points for keeping a little notebook where I scribble down words I'm learning using the Georgian alphabet, even if I do need help discerning a few of the p's, k's and t's still. Ani, the 11 year old daughter, and her younger brother Goga, are currently at their other grandparents house in a different village until the construction is done, but I spoke a little with Ani on the phone, and it sounds like she has a pretty good grasp on English. It will be nice to have her around, especially for those times when elaborate acting is needed.

In the four or five hours after my arrival to Telavi, I had four meals, numerous hugs, and several cheek kisses, mostly from the neighbors who kept dropping in. Georgian hospitality is outrageous - we even ran into a Polish kid who is backpacking across Georgia and needed a place to stay for the night. He was asking us if we knew where a cheap hostel was, and Maghka instead invited him to stay with us. So currently this family, whose house is under construction, kids are in another village, and both parents work, have taken in not only one foreigner, but two, neither of whom speak their language. They've fed both of us full meals, and always insisted we take more. We both have numerous blankets, pillows, and I bet if we needed clothes they would help us with that, too.

It's strange to me that the private circles of Georgians are so completely different than the public face they put on. For a group who is so welcoming and open with their house and belongings, they look completely unapproachable on the street. In fact, we were told in training that smiling at strangers, especially girls smiling at boys, is considered "flirtatious." It was slightly horrifying to find out that the first few days I was in Tbilisi everyone probably thought I was some crazy loose woman who was trying to lure men into my bed with a smile. It also explained why a couple times some men followed us for a short ways, yapping at us in Georgian or Russian. I basically just ignore everyone now, which turned out to be a lot easier than I thought it would be. Public outings, especially if I'm by myself, are way less stressful now that I don't have to worry about social graces on the street.

Telavi unfortunately is currently under some cloud cover, as are the Caucasus mountains to the northeast of the town. Hopefully it will clear up by sunset so I can get a picture of the view outside our door. It's sort of stupid how every time I turn around it's another perfectly picturesque scene. The Caucasus are ridiculously impressive. They basically just jut a straight 11,000 feet up from the floor of the plains. The front range, which we can see from Telavi, go above treeline, and the highest one around here soars over 18,000 feet. I don't think I'll be doing that much trekking around in the high mountains, but some hiking definitely needs to be in the future. A few fellow TLGers were talking about possibly taking a trip this weekend and exploring around Kakheti, so hopefully that means mountain adventure time!

Either way, pictures to come when the weather clears up a bit!

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.