The Saga has come to an end

So I’ve returned state side, and figured that I would give one last blog post to wrap everything up.  The final week in my village, and the subsequent week traveling throughout Georgia were packed with final goodbyes, and reminiscing about the ‘glory days’ in the village.  At school my students said their heartfelt goodbyes, and the teachers threw me a small party to thank me for my service.  I feel honored to work with the teachers and get to know the school children.  It was refreshing to see that even in a foreign country a kid is a kid, and they spend their time like any other child (playing and laughing with each other).  I guess that we are not all that different after all.  Some of the kids didn’t want me to go, and the most memorable moment was when the entire first grade gave me one giant group hug at the end of the final Friday. 

At home my family was also sad to see me go.  They threw me one last Georgian feast, and reminded me that I was always their son.  I am moved by the fact that they didn’t know me four months prior, but now I am a permanent member of their family.  To express my thanks I gave them a family portrait of everyone that lived in the house (myself included).  It meant a lot to everyone, and Shaloua (dad) placed it in a spot of honor on the mantel.  Saturday morning rolled around and my host dad and a neighbor drove me to Chkhorotsku after hugs good bye to everyone in the household.  He placed me on the bus after a final hug, and I could see him tearing up.  I am thankful for everything that my host family did, and defiantly plan to return to visit them some day. 

The following week Cory, Zach, and I traveled around Georgia to Batumi, Telavi, Signagi, and Tbilisi.  We were able to visit friends and say our good byes, all hoping that we would see each other some time down the road.  The writing on the wall was clearly visible, and our trips were soon to come to an end.  There were good times and tough times, but all in all the experience is one that I was glad to be a part of.  It has made me realize how good I actually have it, and though people may look, speak, and dress differently they are all the same down inside. 

I thought my adventures would be over when I boarded the plane to Warsaw, but that would not be the case.  In the Toronto airport you clear customs to enter the United States.  As I filled out my customs forms I debated weather to just check no for every box and slide through, or to be honest with everything.  I chose the honest route, and admitted that I had spent significant time on a farm in a village.  That sent up red flags at customs, and led me to be privately searched in a separate room.

I was matched with a very serious customs agent who was determined to not let me bring in any contaminants.  I figured that they would be looking for food, but he was more worried that I would import agricultural diseases.  He berated me about having dirt on some clothes and shoes, and continued to ask me questions like, Do you know that there is agriculture in Ohio.  In this customs agent eyes I was bringing in dirt that would destroy American agriculture.  I was not pleased to say the least, and in the end he made me scrub my shoes with a brush (which sprayed mud everywhere, thus coating and contaminating the customs bathroom) and confiscated three pairs of pants, and a pair of shorts.  At the time I thought this was overkill, but he was the agent in charge and didn’t care for my opinion.  In hindsight all I lost was some clothes that are easily replaceable.  My mom met me at the airport, and drove me home to see my family that I had missed me so much.  It is good to be home, and get used to American culture again.  And with that, my adventure is over, but it will defiantly not be forgotten. 

Thoughts on Georgia part 3: Food

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Ok, so it’s been a while since I added to my thoughts on Georgia series.  Here is my analysis and my personal experience with Georgian cuisine.  It seems that in my host families household it is either feast or famine.  The majority of our meals consist of bread, cheese, pickled cabbage, and honey/jam (all home made of course).  For a time we were having tomatoes as well, but they have gone out of seasons, thus our tomato source dried up.  During the long stretches of eating just those items I have often resorted to picking a lot of local fruits off their trees and bushes.  For a while it was apples, then they went out of season leading me to pick the now ripening mandarin oranges.  Yes, It does seem to be a contradiction to be eating mandarin oranges in the mountain, but they seem to flourish in our backyard. 

There are many dishes that Georgia is renowned for, and on rare occasions (supras) I have had the chance to indulge in.  The most famous dish is kinkahli, a type of meat dumpling.  It consists of ground meat that is wrapped in a doughy outer layer.  They then boil it and eat them by hand.  It is said to be bad luck to eat the top, so you only eat the meaty part and the dough around it.  My family has only made this dish once during my stay here, but I have had it at other households and it is quite tasty.

Kinkahli, or the meat dumplings

The other dish that Georgia is know for is katchapuri.  It is a cheese bread that is as varied as each region of Georgia.  Every place believes that their personal recipe is the best recipe in the country.  My family makes megrulian katchapuri, that looks like regular bread but is filled with cheese.  In my slightly biased opinion it is the best.  Since I have shown my like for this bread my family has started making it more often. 

Katchapuri, the Georgian cheese bread. (pic borrowed from my friend zach's blog)

The third most common dish that we make at supras is ostri.  Ostri is boiled meat (usually lamb or beef) that has a spiced sauce added to the broth.  It is almost like a meat stew.  My family tends to make this dish if there is a large crowd (read Mancho’s wedding), as it is easy to make in bulk.  You are supposed to eat the meat, and then soak up the rest of the broth with your bread.  It is one of my favorite dishes in Georgia, but we only have it during big events.

Like I said before it is either feast or famine in my household.  We will go many days eating just bread and cheese, and then have a supra with lots of varied dishes.  I personally would like a more balanced diet, but that does not seem to be the Georgian way.  After spending time in this country I now understand why the men gorge themselves at supras like it is the last meal that they will ever eat. 

crashing weddings like its my job

I have been having a very busy past week dealing with weddings, parties, and days off of school.  In fact I feel like Vince Vaguns character in The Wedding Crasher.  If you haven’t seen that movie stop reading this and go out and get it.   Friday I had the opportunity to go to a church in Alerti for St. Georges day.  He is the patron saint of the Georgian orthodox church, so we had the day off in order to visit church in his honor.  Bright and early some high schoolers and I made the 6km walk to the church.  Even though it was early the church was packed.  You couldn’t move inside it and had to elbow your way through the crowds.  That was perfectly fine for all the Georgians, because we all know that they do not believe in lines.  The church itself was remarkably plain for an orthodox.  It had standard white walls and only one image of Christ near the alter.  I was told that the church dates back to the 11^th century, and it looks like it could still stand another 900 years.  After that we made the trek back home for a small supra and to continue setting up for my host brother, Mancho’s, wedding.

The church in Alerti.

So Saturday rolls around, and my family is continuing to set up for Mancho’s wedding.  The tent is finally pitched and it looks like it could hold a couple hundred people (the final tally of place settings was 280).  As customary for any time that people are over to help there is a meal placed out for them.  It was then that I found out that my family would not be going to another coteachers wedding.  I was on my own to walk there and make friends with Georgians.  Luckily, I handled it like a champ and talked the best I could to my fellow teachers and students.  My principal urged me to drink from the horn in honor of Lasha and his new wife.  After successful completion of the task at hand they are were surprised, then told me that it held a liter of wine.  To my disbelief they filled it with a liter bottle of water to prove their point.  I was shocked, but oh well every other man in the room had drank from it (so at least I was on their level).  We celebrated until 5 in the morning and it was quite a good time.

Drinking from the horn, next to my principal.

The wedding celebration continued on Monday with events and more people over to help out.  The cooking started on Monday for Manchos.  In total there were 30 chickens, 5 turkeys, 11 pigs, and 4 cows killed for the festivities.  An army of women descended on the house to take care of everything.  They worked like champs and were able to handle all the cooking for the wedding.  I helped the men with the decorations, and in my own personal opinion we made that tent look like professionals did it.  Of course they worked like Georgians, so one person would do something while 10 others stand around and discuss the task being preformed.

Finally Tuesday, the wedding day, rolled around.  There was lots of people doing last minute party planning.  The women came out in droves again to finish all the cooking that was started the day before.  It was quite a production once again.  The wedding itself was much like all the other Georgian weddings I have seen.  Lots of food, drink, and dancing were on order.  It was once again a great time and my whole host family was having a lot of fun.  It was a clear relief to my host dad that his second son had finally gotten married.  Wednesday we had a much needed day of rest, and it was time to clean up the mess from the party.  It looked like a bomb blew up in the backyard and now it was time to fix the mess.  Everyone worked slowly and with the neighbors help we were able to get it back to a somewhat normal state.  Now its been back to school and getting used to the daily grind again.  I only have 6 more days of classes, and its imminent end is starting to be noticeable.  I really like my friends, family, teachers, and students here and will miss them when I go home.  

Mancho, Sopo, best man, and the bridesmaid.

Thoughts on Georgia part 2: Family

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For the second part of my Thoughts on Georgia series I will focus on the family life.  I would like to preface this document by saying that this is my personal perception of family life in the villages.  It may be different in other areas, but after comparing with other TLG volunteers it seems to be the norm in the villages of Samegrelo.  First I would like to talk about my family members, then the general roles of various family members.  I guess the inner anthropologist is coming out of me after all. 

I will start with my generation and work my way up to the older generations.  I have two host brothers Giorgi and Mancho who are 28 and 27 respectively.  Giorgi does not spend much time at home, as he lives and works in Chkhorotsku.  He is a hard working guy who passes on drinking, so that he can do work later.  This does not seem to be the norm for people this age in my village.  They usually just combine the drinking with working.  Mancho is a truly unique character.  He still lives in the household and is the schools gym teacher.  I have never seen him run a gym class, usually he stands outside smoking cigarettes while the kids run around the school yard.  He is friendly, and likes repeating a few one-liners around the house.  He recently got married, but I have not seen him since.  They are supposed to come home to move in, but it true Georgian fashion I have not been told a timeline of events.  When I meet Sohpo his wife, I will edit this to include her. 

Now to the parents generation.  My host dad, Shaloa, is the patriarch of the family.  He seems to have the most say about how things should be run, even if he is not doing the majority of the work.  He is a large man who likes to go out and socialize with the other men of the village.  Shaloa is a nice man who looks out for me like a son.  It has been great to be invited into the family by him.  Though there is a large language barrier we usually are able to convey our needs to each other.  He does not seem to converse much with the family unless it is about what needs to be done.  It could be the language barrier, but it seems to me that there is very little small talk throughout the family. 

Manana, my host mom is an absolute champ.  She does by far the most work in the family and really looks out for me.  She is the one who does all the cooking, cleaning, care of the animals, and any work around the house.  She takes a lot of pride in how her house is presented and it really is her castle.  Her personality is quite different form her work ethic.  She tends to be quiet and shy away from most of the action.  She will sit in the kitchen or on the bench in the corner while others are eating.  In general she does not join the table unless everyone else in done eating.  I have just been able to have her sit down and have tea in the evenings with me at the table.  She serves everyone and does not let any plate go empty.  I have been trying to talk to her more, but she usually just shies away and goes back to whatever work she was doing. 

My houst aunt, Lyra, is the most talkative of all of my parents generation.  She is a large diabetic Georgian lady who cares for me.  When I have any little need she is right there for me.  She is also a champion.  We listen to music together and watch tv shows.  I have found out that she really seems to like listening to Matisyahu and K’naan.  That’s fine we can rock out to reggae together.  She does not do as much work as Mana, and sticks to doing more of the house work such as washing clothes and dishes.  I feel that this is partly because she is not in shape and physically can not do the work.  She is a great lady and constantly making jokes with me.  Of all the people in my family she is the easiest to communicate, and is always up for acting things out with me. 

Now its to the last member of the family, my babia (grandma).  Talico is a sour old Georgian lady who seems to be constantly grumbling.  She goes around and still does farm work, even though she looks like she is ready to keel over.  It seems that I can never do enough to impress her and she is not a fan of having a foreign boy living with her family.   I am determined to win her over, and while my host dad is sleeping off his afternoon drinking I have been chopping wood.  She seems to like this because something as important as the heating seems to be neglected by Shaloa.  She is the strictest with gender rolls and refuses to sit at the table with me, even if there is nothing being served.  She eats in the kitchen when it is just the family eating.  Recently guests have been coming over to congratulate the family on Mancho getting married, so she has been eating with the guests.  This is partly because they are toasting to her and her family.  She takes extreme pride in how our family is perceived, and wants us to put out a good image.  The shenanagince that my host dad, brother, and I may get in does not seem to impress her, and I see the wheels in her head spinning thinking about how we could be doing something productive. 

In general it seems that men and women exist in different social circles.  Men tend to spend their time talking and doing various labor tasks including picking corn, fixing the house, and making wine.  Women are expected to take care of the household and make sure that things are in order.  This means all the cooking, cleaning, raising of children, as well as other farm chores.  The women defiantly work a lot harder than the men, and if it wasn’t for my host mom I don’t know where my family would be.  In public women and men do not tend to interact other than general courtesies. 

Eating provides another interesting look at social interactions.  The women will feed the men at the table, while remaining in the kitchen to eat.  That means lots of running back and forth to make sure that everything is full (plates and wine pitchers).  They do not sit down at the table while the men are eating, and will only join the table after everything is done.  It has been very interesting living here, because it is so radically different than the US.  The stratified society between the women and the men is defiantly the norm here in Georgia.  It is not as prevalent in the cities as the village, but it is clearly visible.  Hopefully as Georgia continues to westernize they will continue to modify their social roles.  It appears though that this is very far off. 

My thoughts on Georgia part 1: Education

So I’m coming up on being in this country for 100 days (with the brief interludes in Turkey and Armenia) and have had the opportunity to experience many vastly different things than what I am used to in the United States.  After reading many of my blog posts they tell great stories of the unique experiences, but seem to lack the daily life of Georgia and my personal perspectives on it.  So I will write down my thoughts in a five part series focusing on school, family life, food, politics, and general views of Georgia.  I have a feeling that these will be long detailed posts, so hold on to your pants because you’re about to go for a ride. 

First and foremost I would like to talk about my experiences working for a school system in a developing country, I mean after all this is why I’m here right.  I have two coteachers that I work with, therefore two very different teaching styles and personalities.  Before I get to what I have now, we must start from the beginning.  Personally I have extremely little training for working with children.  Apart from little interactions with kids at my dads daycare, I haven’t had too many chances to deal with them.  Yet being a native English speaker, as well as having a university degree I was perfectly qualified for this program.  It shows you how willing the Georgian school systems are to reform their image of post soviet schools of memorization.  After a week long training period on teaching methods, cultural adaption, and language lessons we were thrown into the field.  Luckily we had three weeks at home to live, travel, and experience Georgia until the school year started. 

Initially at my teacher introduction meeting with our coteachers and school directors I was told I would only be working with the teacher I was initially introduced to.  Like everything in Georgia that was subject to change (though I didn’t realize it at the time).  Come the first day of school I was introduced to two coteachers, which shocked me a little because I was told two days before that I would only be working with one.  Oh well I rolled with the punches and played along with it for two days.  After then, the new teacher decided she wanted a transfer and abruptly left the school.  We waited until the next Monday, when I was introduced to the teachers that I am working with now. 

As for the schedule it constantly changes, however it seems to have settled down quite a bit as of recent.  In the beginning it would change every day, and all I could do was show up for class before first period and wait to be told where to go.  Gradually the school settled upon what seems to be a format that works for them, however it took 4 weeks for that to be hammered out.  Just like with the teachers all I could do was roll with the punches and accept what was going on. 

On the topic of supplies the school is in a strange conundrum.  I am in one of the newest schools in the country, and the shadow of the old crumbling soviet school building can be seen from all the classrooms.  Just because a school building is new does not mean that it is properly equipped, or built with quality techniques.  The school is less than a year old, yet concrete is falling from the walls, paint is peeling, and there is major problems with the electrical system.  It is nice to be in a new building compared to some of my friends experiences, but I know that like many things in Georgia the new school building is just a patch on a much larger problem.  The chalkboards are beat up, clearly rescued from the old school building, but that’s not the half of it.  We are in dire need of supplies to properly educate the students, with little help in sight.  Teachers must provide chalk if they want it, and students must provide their own textbooks, paper, notebooks, ect.  Many of the parents can not afford to buy every subjects books so students come to class with all, some, or none of the materials that are needed for the class.  It has been a juggling act to accommodate everyone’s needs.  One thing is certain though; I have been trying with the best of my abilities to cater to each student. 

My two coteachers are extremely different, and it has been quite a challenge to meet both their needs.  The first teaches years 1 and 2 as well as many of the older grades.  Here we have been working on the alphabet and basic word recognition.  It has been tricky teaching the 1^st graders, because they are learning the English alphabet at the same time as the Kartuli alphabet.  Though she still relies mostly memorization, she has been open to trying other teaching methods.  With here I am able to introduce games, songs, and different things to the students routines.  It seems to be helping, and the kids are reacting very well to me trying new things on them.  Not bad for someone with no training, right. 

I have a completely different experience with my other coteacher.  We work together for years 3 through 6, so I spend the vast majority of my time with her.  She does not want to stray from the way that she was taught, which was straight rote memorization and translation.  If I did not interject, she would be perfectly happy having the kids recite passages that they do not understand all day long.  She will have me read them something then translate it while I am reading.  Some of the translations actually hinder the education process.  A perfect example of this is when we are asking children to identify a picture that I am describing.  I will describe it in English and she will translate the description before the children have answered.  No doubt they just wait for her to describe it in their own language, and do not pay heed to the English passage.   For discipline she just screeches and yells at the children, pounds on the desk, and occasionally pulls hair and twists ears.  When I discussed this with the other teachers and my fellow TLG volunteers it seems to be the norm.  I continually try to compromise with her, however she is stubborn in her ways and it does not look like I will be able to make much progress opening her eyes to other teaching methods.  Oh well what am I but an untrained foreigner that she is forced to deal with in the classroom.

Now to the best part of the school experience, the students.  Every day as I walk into the schoolyard, through the halls, out of the bathroom, and everywhere on the premises children call out Helloooo teacha.  They try so hard to be recognized and work in the classroom, even after the initial shock of having an American in their village has worn off.  Even if they do not know the answer their hands shoot up and some students nearly fall out of their chairs to get noticed.  They do their reciting of memorized passages with pride, and love it to hear a dzalian kargi from me (my second coteacher does not seem to give much positive reinforcement).  There is a surprising disparity between students, even within the same class.  I have some students that can read wonderfully, and have near perfect pronunciation in the same class as students who can barely copy characters down from off the board.  This leads us to often split up the class.  While I help the students who are struggling my coteacher will have the advanced teachers continue their translation of various reading passages.  This is not the case in year 1 and 2 because they are both starting from scratch and all know nothing.  The kids here are champs and they are trying hard to impress me and learn English.  The older kids are starting to see western music and culture, so the want to be American and have further incentive to learn English.  Whether it is a good reason or not, it seems to motivate the older kids (especially the high schoolers).

All in all I have learned a lot from my experience with the Georgian school system.  I have found that your coworkers can make or break the teaching experience.  In this department I have had a mixed bag, but I think that it has given me a better perspective of what is actually going on.  It is a system that in continually changing and trying to adapt to a changing world.  Some are willing to accept this change, while others remain rooted in the familiarity of their previous educations.  Is there work that still needs to be done, absolutely, but one thing remains the same.  The kids are there and for the most part enthusiastic about their education and the differences that they have been undergoing seem to have been working. 

A shotgun wedding

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The past three days have been extremely hectic for my host family.  On Thursday I was informed that my host brother, Mancho, went to Batumi and got married.  For those of you that do not know what Batumi is, think Las Vegas with a lot fewer strippers.  It is where Georgians, Turks, and Armenians go to drink, gamble, and make poor life decisions.  It is also a favorite home to many TLG members being likened to Hotel California (you can never leave).

Anyways back to my family.  I was in utter shock that Mancho got married, as I didn’t even know that he was dating anyone.  I have never seen him talk to a girl that is out of school and out of his gym class.  While I thought this was some kind of joke the family was extremely excited, and preparations for the inevitable move in of the wife began.  Many neighbors came to offer their support, and the main house has been undergoing some much-needed renovations.  Finally windows were put in the last bedroom, and it was readied to paint. 

Georgians are known as world-renowned painters, and I fully believe that if they wanted to they could easily surpass the most famous renaissance artists.  I would classify their painting style as a modern form of abstract art.  They have an uncanny ability to miss large paintable areas, and give everything around the area being painted a nice speckled look.  In fact I think that these are the characteristic traits of a good Georgian paint job.  That being said the floors of the great room now have this beautiful blotchy look of dripped paint. 

Amid all the renovations that have been happening at my house, my family has not failed to celebrate the glorious occasion.  Every night we have had guests over for large feasts, however the most important guests (Mancho and his new bride) have yet to appear to any of the festivities.  I am told that soon we will have a very large Supra in their honor, but in true Georgian fashion I have not been told where or when it will be.  Its ok I’ve learned to just go with the flow and my family will make sure that I come along.

Friday night (last night) we held a supra for the brides two sisters and friends from their village.  I was nominated to the highly coveted and illustrious position of Tamada.  Now this is a prestigious post that comes with many responsibilities, the most important is always finish your glass of wine to the bottom when you give a toast.  I threw on my best Georgian accent, and proceeded to make toasts to Georgia, the bride and groom, their families, god, friends, random people in the room, and anything that seemed appropriate.  My host dad loved my enthusiasm for the position, and always encouraged another and another toast.  It was a lot of fun to lead the room in the toasts and of course prove to Georgians that Americans can in fact drink as much as they can. 

Today I woke up to my host dad taking shots of cha cha, and in his words it was the best way to get rid of his hangover.  More people have come over to fix up the house, however the work has been sidelined by a chance to drink wine and cha cha with Shaoloa.  I will check in again when I finally meet the new bride, and experience the wedding supra.  My host dad mimes that there will be a lot of dancing, and they all loved my dance moves at the last wedding (I think they are looking for a repeat performance).  The only minus to the whole wedding scene is that once again the marriage proposals have fired up.  I am now the only son in the family that is not married, and my village is determined to have me wed by the end of my contract in December. 

BROjomi and Vardzia

This past weekend I ventured out of the village, and five debonair young men and I ventured to Borjomi (or as we called it BROjomi).  It was Derricks birthday weekend, and we were just paid so it was a perfect time to go on an adventure.  Thursday we all met in Kutaisi so that early the next morning we could travel to Borjomi by bus.

Friday morning rolled around and we were searching for a taxi to take us to the bus station with little luck.  Finally we were able to flag one down, and when we told our driver where we were going he offered to drive us all for the price it would have cost on the public bus.  Thinking it would be a quick ride the six of us piled into a regular sized sedan.  We were riding 5 in the back with two people always sitting on each others laps.  In reality the ride took three hours, and we had to rotate seating arrangements many times.  Luckily our driver was a champ and enjoyed it when we sang, and cracked jokes the whole way there.

Since we did not have to ride on a bus that ran on Georgian maybe time we had all afternoon to explore Borjomi.  We decided to hike a couple of kilometers to the hot springs that are fed by the mineral water that Borjomi is known for.  We made it to the springs and found that rather than being hot they were more of a luke warm.  Georgia may have been getting to us, and we all decided it would be a great idea to skinny dip in them.  That worked out great until a pair of elderly ladies decided to join us in the swimming pool.  Never less it was a great swim in the mineral water and a fun little excursion. 

Swimming in the hot spring, and yes those are our underwear.

Saturday morning we decided to hire a driver with a former soviet military jeep to drive us to Vardzia.  Vardzia is a cave city that was carved into the mountainside by monks in the 11^th and 12^th centuries.  It is truly an amazing site to see the ingenuity that they used so long ago.  The monastery is still used by monks today, so we could only see about half of the caves.  Its cool to see something that is so old still being utilized.  Our driver took us to another castle that looked to be from the 13^th century, as well as a good local restaurant.  It was a perfect day trip to see one of the great sights of Georgia.  That evening we ran into some of the newest TLGers (only been in their villages 2 weeks) and gave them a real orientation over Georgian wine.

The cave city of Vardzia

Sunday was a normal day of travel back to our villages.  Public busses across the country then an 8 kilometer walk back to my house.  This weekend was a great chance to see friends and historical Georgia.  Now its back to teaching the kids, which is rewarding in its own way.