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.
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