"It's Nice to Meet You, Mr. President"

So, I haven't posted in a while. There have been a lot of things going on. School started. My host family punished their daughter by taking the internet away (and she didn't even know that that was her punishment. Very effective, eh?). Living in Tbilisi is a lot different than Telavi. And I was going to write about all of these things. But one event eclipsed all of those! I met Misha Saakashvili himself! The President of Georgia! How do you like that?!

It happened this past Saturday. TLG offers excursions for the teachers; basically they take us out to do something traditionally Georgian, or just to see more of Georgia. About two weeks ago they took 200 people living in Tbilisi on an overnight stay in Batumi to see an opera. Yours truly was not able to go because I didn't sign up in time. But it's that sort of thing- all paid for, transportation included, you get fed. Pretty good deal. So this weekend was an excursion to pick grapes in Kakheti- the region of Georgia most known for it's wine and also where I was living last semester. I signed up thinking it would be a nice thing to do on a Saturday. But a few days later I found out that the president was going to be there! I was incredibly surprised because he had been at the opera in Batumi and he had been to another excursion the week before. Nonetheless, it was still exciting!

Saturday got off to a cold and blustery start. We had to meet for the bus at the Radisson Hotel here in Tbilisi at 9am. One thing Georgia doesn't seem to be big on is transitional seasons. A few days earlier it had been in the upper 70s, but Saturday morning was down in the mid-50s and the wind cut through my thin blazer so easily. They had us waiting outside the buses for a good 45 minutes in the cold. No idea why; we were looking at the buses, but we still had to wait outside. By the time we arrived in Katchreti, the vineyard school where we would be picking the grapes, everyone was kind of cold and grumpy. It didn't help matters that we had to wait around for another half hour just to pick the grapes. The morning was pretty unorganized. But everything got very organized very quickly when the president's helicopter got in sight. The security guys, who had been there the whole time, suddenly started walking around, telling people where to go. We weren't even allowed to take pictures of the helicopter as it landed.

Once Saakashvili was on the ground there was a huge group of people that flocked to him. Not being one for large groups I kind of stood off to the side. Close enough to see him, but without getting mixed up in the crush of people. As luck would have it he started making his way past the rows of grapes, shaking hands and saying hello. He wandered in my direction and I was able to shake his hand. I even said, "It's nice to meet you, Mr. President." First time I've ever been able to say that!

He had a little conversation with an older woman next to me. She was talking about teaching in Tbilisi when there was a bit of a lull in the conversation. He kind of looked off in the direction of the donkey, who had all of the grape baskets on his back, when Saakashvili starts telling the goofiest joke about a Kakhetian donkey on vacation as a school headmaster in Svaneti (another region of Georgia, in the mountains). It was so bizarre! But it was even funnier looking around at all the people doing the awkward obligatory laugh; that's what I was really laughing at.

So after his corny joke he moved on, shaking more hands and all that. Having felt satisfied with my handshake I stayed where I was- talking to my friends and just enjoying the sun that had just come out. We were goofing around with the grapes that were in buckets everywhere. We were taking a group picture with everyone holding a grape cluster when who walks up from behind us but Saakashvili asking if he could get in the picture too! We said, "Ooooh, okay, Misha. If you really want to be in our picture..." (or to be more accurate there was a collective, "YES! PLEASE!") How do you you turn down a president when he wants to get in your picture? It was so crazy! After that there was another swarm of people handing their cameras off to people. At one point I think Saakashvili had ten people on either side of him trying to get in.

It was such a surreal day. It wasn't so much that I was star-struck, I was just surprised that the President of Georgia was kind of a goofy guy. Especially the way the Georgians speak about him (the amount of languages they claim he knows boggles the mind. I think I've heard one report that he knows 12 different languages. Crazy stuff like that). But hearing him tell a goofy joke about a donkey and then asking us if he could be in our picture was definitely not what I was expecting.

And don't worry folks, I documented the day in pictures!

This is the security guard's feet at the front gate. There were police officers lined up and down the road for half a mile before we even arrived at the vineyard!

This is Dante the Donkey

Despite the intense security checkpoint, once we were inside we were given really large, sharp box cutters to cut the vines.

See! Large box cutter! Also, look at them grapes! I think I ate more than I picked, though. Oops.

Don't worry, Georgian Military, this isn't Saakashvili's helicopter, it's the second helicopter carrying all of his security guys with the very large guns and bullet proof vests

Dante the Donkey is a very hard worker

The picture that the president asked to be in!

If You Ever See an On-Coming Georgian Wedding- DUCK. AND. COVER.

So I wasn't in Georgia more than half an hour and I got invited to a Georgian wedding! I had been expecting to go to a Georgian wedding last June. It was my fluent English-speaking host cousin's wedding. I had helped her with a bunch of her English classes at the university and we got along really well, but I didn't get an invite to her wedding... But hey, that's cool. I'm not bitter... much. (No seriously, I'm not bitter. I think it may have been a culture confusion mix-up. I never received a formal invite, but that's because Georgia doesn't have a formal mail system. So everything is done by phone. And I'm still not sure if it's common custom that I am part of the family, therefore I am obviously invited. Or I was snubbed. I'm not bitter, just confused.)

The wedding was for my host father's nephew. I was told it was on the 8th, but no one really gave me an exact time. First it was at 12, then it was at 3, then it was at 2. Then it was 1 o'clock and I was told we were going. Thankfully I had the foresight to get dressed early because I know how these Georgians are kind of liberal with their times. And as it turned out, all of the times I was given were correct. And how can this be? you ask. Well, apparently a Georgian wedding is a multifaceted event (or at least, this wedding was multi-faceted). So here's the run down...

First, the family of the groom all met at his house for some light toasting. There were a couple of champagne glasses that made the rounds for all the people in the groom's family. When it was a person's turn to toast they were given one of the glasses, made their toast, and the toaster, groom and groomsmen all drank. So basically it all sounded like an elaborate rouse to get the groom drunk (but that's just my take on the matter). And the groom and a couple of his groomsmen were wearing traditional Georgian dress. It basically looks like a Cossack, but without the hat. (Here's just a picture of the traditional outfit I found on google), but the bride was wearing a very modern white dress.

From there everyone piled into their cars and we drove to the bride's house where her family has been doing the same thing. Now this is the thing you should take away from this blog: If you ever see an on-coming Georgian wedding- DUCK! AND! COVER! (It's in the title. I can't emphasize this point enough, people!) When they all pile into their cars it's basically a giant race to catch up to the limo, and the limo drives like it's a race to get to the wedding first. Everyone is bobbing and weaving through traffic, cars are slipping between each other, driving on the wrong side of the road. It's madness. And I was in the car with the guy videotaping the whole shebang. So not only were we bobbing and weaving, we were also skidding 180s around corners so he could get footage of the whole car procession. At one point we drove right up alongside the limo nearly taking off the side mirrors of both cars!

So after we picked up the bride we went to the church. And this was one of the odd parts. We spent a good half hour milling around the church, which is very easy to do because Georgian Orthodox churches don't have any pews. If you've ever seen a Russian Orthodox church it's basically the same aesthetic- no pews, frescoes of saints and Jesus, candle holders, icons. At one point I thought the wedding began because I heard the wedding march, but it just turned out to be someone's ringtone on their cell phone. Finally the priest showed up and the wedding commenced. And maybe I could have appreciated it more if I spoke fluent Georgian, but I don't, therefore the entire hour of the priest chanting was kind of lost on me. But it seemed that I wasn't alone because throughout the ceremony people kept on walking around the church, chatting with each other. At any given point during the ceremony half the wedding party was outside in the church courtyard. And a couple of times my host sister asked if I wanted to go sit down outside. All in all, everyone seemed a wee bit underwhelmed by the whole ceremony. Not a tear was shed.

After the church ceremony we piled into the cars again and began the mad dash to what I assumed was the party (and I was starving by this time, so I sincerely hoped it was the party). And we pulled up to a big restaurant-looking building. Once again we milled around in the big marble lobby for a bit. Pictures were taken by all. My host sister told me it would be a ceremony with dancing, which I assumed to mean party. But it was, in fact, another ceremony. We were all brought into this very, very pink room with some large mirrors on the walls (that all of the women flocked to and checked their makeup). There was a little stage in the middle of the room with a podium to the back of it. A woman, wearing what looked like a waitress outfit of a plain white button-down and a black skirt, turned on a very loud rendition of the wedding march and the bride and groom walked in arm-in-arm. They stepped up on the podium where the waitress-looking woman said a few words and the bride and groom signed their marriage contract. This whole ceremony felt so contrived. It looked more like some drive-by Vegas wedding than an actual ceremony. And yet people were getting tear eyed! After they signed their contract the woman switched the CD player to some corny overly romantic song and the bride and groom had their first dance as one of the bridesmaids went up to a second level of the room and sprinkled large silver confetti on them. Now I thought that this was maybe a little thing that the restaurant did and from there we would go into the room where the party would be. But nope, this was the whole purpose of this stop.

So back in the cars we all piled and off to Sameba Cathedral (here's the wiki page for it). This is the big cathedral in Tbilisi. And I must say, it is quite impressive. Just walking up to it is amazing. The marble walkway from the entrance gates up to the church steps is simply gorgeous. It almost makes you feel like you're walking on water. And there are gardens, which I only saw a small portion of. I would love to go back some time just to spend a leisurely afternoon and really enjoy it. And also take plenty of pictures. Being there really made me wish that I had a nice camera.

Finally we got to the party! As far as American wedding ceremonies go, I would say it was fairly similar. Except the songs were all in Georgian (except for one heavily Georgian-accented Spanish rendition of Shakira's 'This Time for Africa'), and the toasting was also in the Georgian style of no one drinks the wine unless there has been a toast made by the tamada (the 'toast master'). Oh and there was food. So much food. By the end of the night we were five layers deep in food because they just kept piling the serving plates on top of the last one- even though all the plates still had food on them! The food was very Georgian. And my host father's brother (I think that's who he was), kept piling food on my plate and he wouldn't let me pour my glass, even when I was pouring water! He would take the bottle out of my hand and our the rest himself, despite the fact that it was almost full anyway. That did start to bother me. I like to be a very hydrated individual (which is weird for Georgians because they never drink water), so I was refilling my water a lot. But he refused to let me do it myself!

Another difference with the songs was also that occasionally they would do a traditional song that required the traditional dancing, which I have only the vaguest idea of what to do. So I did not dare go out on the dance floor when I saw people's hands start doing the little twirly motions. The dance floor is also a dangerous place when they are doing the traditional dances- there is a lot of leaping and jumping involved. I'm not very well coordinated on a good day. But when there are people running and leaping around me, I know it'll end poorly for all parties involved.

A random cultural thing I noticed was that it doesn't seem improper for other women to wear to wear white! I saw the first woman in white and thought, "Oh, that's in poor taste." But then a couple other women were wearing white, too, so it must not be an issue.

Well, folks, that was my Georgian wedding experience! If you ever get a chance to go to a Georgian wedding definitely grab it. Just be well hydrated and maybe have a snack on hand.

New Semester, New Blog!

Well, okay, it's not a completely new blog. But it's got a new name! "How to Eat Khinkali: And Other Tidbits for the Georgian Traveler." What do you think? Sound good?

Well, I've finally arrived! It was quite the horrible trip to get here. All in all it took 32 hours of travel to get from Boston to Tbilisi. A majority of which was spent waiting around in airports. And after all of that I still didn't finish my book! Would you believe that!

And along with my new semester is a new host family. I was expecting to get an apartment in Tbilisi this semester, but it is really difficult to rent if you're only here for 4 months; I know that's the case in the U.S., but I kind of figured they might be a bit more lax about it here. Oh well. The new host fam is pretty cool. There's a 15 year old girl, Mari, who'll be my student at at school. And then there is an 18 year old girl, Irina, who is married! Jeez! She's married! And she's been married for a year!! When I told the two sisters I was 23 they gasped like I had one foot in the grave. Jeez. I forgot how much of a tipsy-turvy place Georgia can be. The new house is definitely a lot nicer than my old host family's house. This house was re-built 7 years ago. I would say the only drawback is that the shower is across the alley from the house. On the drive from the airport Mari was telling me that they live in an "Italian yard." I expected that to be a courtyard. But no, they live in an alley. Granted it's a very nice alley. They seem to know all of their neighbors very well and it's quiet because there aren't any cars driving by. But I would not call it an "Italian yard." Thankfully it's not a large "Italian yard" and the shower isn't far away. I don't quite know how to describe the shower room. It's not just for a shower. It's sort of like... a basement! Yes, it's like a basement across the street. And in this "basement" there is not only the shower but also a washing machine and a tread mill! Yes, that's right folks, a tread mill! Gone are the days of paying 30 lari a month to go use the tread mill at the Telavi Tennis Courts! A free tread mill!

My new place has some definite perks. Although living in Tbilisi definitely has a much different feel than Telavi.  The people here seem a lot more preoccupied with appearances. The same can be said of any big city, but I didn't expect the discrepancy to be so marked. Although, to be fair, I am basing this assumption on the wedding I attended last night (don't worry, I'm planning a whole other post about it!). And everyone gets tarted up for weddings (except me, evidently. I didn't bring any super wedding-worthy clothes. Oops). Perhaps I'll end up having to succumb to the Tbilisi fashion and get me a pair of 5 inch toothpick-thin stilletoes, a couple pounds of make-up, and a brightly colored shirt with excessive bows and frills.

Or not.



More to come! Stay tuned! It's a whole new semester with all new adventures!

Connecting with Arianna Huffington

 I have a guilty pleasure; I absolutely love graduation commencement speeches. There are two reasons for this: 1. They are always filled with such hope and inspiration for the future, and 2. There is a part of my brain that refuses to believe that I am no longer a student. In fact, since being in Georgia, I constantly have to remind myself that this is not a school trip or a year abroad. This is actually my job in my real world life.


The reason I'm sharing this guilty pleasure, which may be similar to someone saying that they love when friends sit them down for a slide show of their vacation photos, is because I recently watched the Sarah Lawrence Class of 2011 commencement speech given by Arianna Huffington of the Huffington Post (which has only been around since 2005, which surprised me. I thought it was way older than that). Of course I have to say how happy I am for all of my friends that recently graduated. It's hard to believe that we're all grown-ups now. No more lying around on Westlands lawn or sitting on the hot rock- well we could, but I think it would be considered trespassing. For those of you who aren't SLC people, here's the commencement speech:

The two things that stuck out from her speech were her thoughts on the desire to connect with the world and her thoughts on getting lucky by being unlucky.

Since being in Georgia I've been thinking about the concept of 'community' a lot (and as soon as I start thinking about 'community' I think back to all of my classes with Julie Abraham where she was dead set on making us realize that the concept of 'community' only exists in our heads. So when I think of the construct of community and how I perceive communities within Georgia I imagine that Julie Abraham is somewhere in New York frowning but she doesn't entirely know why. Sorry, Julie!). I think about Georgian communities- most of which are based on family ties and are very different from the U.S. I also think about the refugee community where I teach every week as well as the expatriate community that I socialize with. There is a whole lot of community going on in my life. And what am I doing with all of it? I'm just trying to connect. I'm trying desperately to connect with the Georgian community- which is very strained at times due to language. I'm trying to connect to the refugee community because I am inspired and humbled and so many other things by the amazing women I meet at the community center. And I am trying to connect with the expatriate community because after all of the cross-cultural connections I'm trying to instigate, at the end of the week I just want to have people who speak the same language and who can laugh about the same things. All I do with my life is connect. Even this blog is a testament to my desire to connect with yet another community- my friends and family who are not on this journey with me (oh man, this post just got kinda meta. Whoa). And I think it is important to say that this project that I am on is a attempt by the Georgian government to integrate Georgia into the global community.



The idea that bad things can happen for good reasons is not exactly a new one. But I think that people too often forget it. For instance, it took me 9 months to get a job that did not involve wearing a shirt with a company logo. And the first real job that I got was to teach English in Georgia. Sometimes I forget that, yes, this was the first job that I could actually get. Although it may sound bad to put it in such blatant terms, it's how it happened. And although the time between graduation and the day I got a job was hard and soul crushing and depressing and ego deflating and I could go on, but I'll spare you, it was worth it in the long run. The other jobs I was applying for involved sitting at a desk for an interminable amount of time, getting coffees, and fixing xerox machines. Sure, the money would have been better, but I definitely would not have been able to have the adventures that I've had and meet the people I have met and even endure the hardships that will be good for me in the long run. I had a lot of doors close on me, but then a big ol' window opened up. And even on my bad days here I think I would do well to remember that being in Georgia is a hell of a lot better than being at Trader Joe's.


So, to all of my new fellow SLC alumni, I wish you all the best in whatever comes next. And for everyone else who is not so new to the real world, remember, we can always make it better.

Obligatory Food Blog

I think every travel blog or personal journal has to mention something about the food. It is such an important thing to every culture. After all, everybody's gotta eat. But because food is an important part of cultural pride, I am somewhat hesitant to write this blog. To insult Georgian food seems to insult the Georgian people as a whole. In fact the one time I mentioned that I didn't like a particular food my host gave a quick response, "That is actually a Ukrainian food, not Georgian." Whether this was true or not I can't say. The fact still remains, I did not like this food and they were quick to throw the blame onto some other culture. I'll try not to insult anyone, but I can't make any promises.

Also, I realize that some of my readers are either vegetarians or don't particularly like to contemplate their food. Some sections of this blog may be a bit gross for these people. I'll put some asterisks around the headings as a warning.

"Do You Like Khachapuri and Khinkali?"
This is the second most popular question I have been asked (the most popular question being, of course, "Are you married?"). Khachapuri is directly translated to "cheese bread." And who doesn't love cheese, bread, and butter?

When ordering khachapuri the main question one must ask themselves is, "In what form would I prefer my cheese, bread, and butter?" You can choose to have it fried or baked. But the choices don't stop there! There are then shapes to choose from. The fried version is usually in a circular shape with the cheese on the inside. I would say this is the most popular form of khachapuri. But the baked version is an entity onto itself. There is the envelop shape where they put cheese in the middle and wrap it up in the dough to make it look like an envelop. Or the triangle shape- sort of a less creative version of the envelop. Then there is the open circular kind with the cheese on top. And then, the pièce de résistance is the egg boat khachapuri. This is not its formal name; but I can't remember the formal name, so it always remains in my head as 'the egg boat.' And that is exactly what it looks like. Imagine a large glob of dough. Take that large glob of dough and shape it to look like a canoe. Then put cheese and butter inside of the canoe and bake it. Once the bread is all cooked and the cheese is nice and gooey they take it out of the oven, crack an egg, and put it in the middle of the hot, molten cheese. In theory the cheese is so hot that it will essentially cook the egg, but when they serve it to you it's not fully cooked through. There are still some uncooked white parts. I hate the uncooked white parts- they freak me out. I've never eaten this kind of khachapuri. It's way too heavy for me. Maybe I'll have it one day, with the help of a small army.

I think every country needs a form of meat wrapped in carbs. For the Italy it's ravioli. For Russia it's pelmeni. For Georgia it's khinkali. But it isn't just meat wrapped in carbs, it's meat intricately wrapped in carbs. They carefully fold and pinch the dough around the meat. It's really hard at first. I made such a mess when I tried making them. You have to get your hand motions just right and in synch with each other. But watching a Georgian do it is like watching a magic act. Zip, zip, zip. Done! Khinkali should be the shape of a teardrop with a very distinct top- the top will be the handle you hold onto while eating them. Once you have finished your wrapping and folding you then toss the whole lot into a pot of boiling water and wait about half an hour. The meat and the dough are both raw throughout this entire process, so the boiling is very important.

And of course the best part is eating these delicious dumplings. But it's not as simple as bite and chew. The inside of the khinkali becomes soupy with all of the juices from the meat. So when you bite into them they have a tendency to explode. You have to carefully bite and hold them upright. The sign of an experienced khinkali eater is to not have one drop of soup on your plate by the end of the meal.

Khachapuri and khinkali are the pride and joy of the Georgian people. To not like them is a grievous offense to the people of Georgia and the thousands of years of traditions that they hold dear. Thankfully I like both khinkali and khachapuri.



The White Diet
Georgia is a beautiful and lush country. However, like most countries, nothing grows in the winter. So what do people eat in winter? A pretty solid diet of potatoes, cabbage, pickled stuff, and a whole lot of white carbs. The nutrients in this assortment is next to nil. (I'm kissing myself for buying multivitamins before I left! Smartest buy ever.) It wasn't so bad at first. But potatoes, cabbage, and carbs get really old really fast. I could kill for a whole week of just raw veggies, fruit, and lots of water.




"Tchämé! Tchämé"
If you ever eat a meal in a Georgian household you will no doubt hear the word "Tchämé!" shouted at you repeatedly. It means "Eat!" And they do mean Eat! I don't know what it is about the Georgians but anyone over the age of thirty wants to see you with a mountain of food on your plate and stuffing your face.

Here are a few tips to avoided the dreaded "Tchämé!"
1. Eat slowly. I don't care how much you love that one particular tomato dish, TAKE YOUR TIME. Trust me, there will still be plenty left over.
2. Stay hydrated. You can eat slower if you alternate a sip of water, have a little food, pause, a sip of water, a little food. Also most of the food they are serving is packed with salt, so you'll really want some water handy anyway.
3. Always have some food on your plate. Just look like you're still eating and they usually leave you alone.
4. If you absolutely can't eat anymore and they keep offering you food just laugh. You might look like an idiot, but it sounds a lot better than shouting, "I don't want to eat anymore. Just leave me alone!"



Clean Plate Club
The Georgians, from what I have seen, are all members of the clean plate club. I notice this because I am somewhat of a picky eater. Onions and cilantro are the devil's foods. I have always picked off the fat from my meat. And I find it weird to eat the skin left on chicken. At the end of our meals I seem to be the only one with a small pile of gristle, fat, skin, onion, and/or small bits of cilantro shoved to the side of my plate. I take great pains to shove all of this together to make my pile of refuse appear as small as humanly possible. But the fact still remains- I will not be eating this.

I can't tell if they're insulted by this. I really hope not. And I'm sorry that I have more scruples about my eating habits than everyone else. But I just cannot bring myself to eat some things.



*Love Handles on a Plate*
And some of the reasons that I am not part of the Telavi Clean Plate Club are due to the fact that they eat some weird things in Georgia. Things that I do not consider to be real food. The one recurring "food" at the dinner table is fat. I don't mean fattening, unhealthy foods. I mean fat.

Once I was served what I can only describe as a very thick, very fatty prosciutto. Normally I absolutely love prosciutto. Add a little melon, put them on a platter and you've got yourself a lovely appetizer! But this stuff was thick and fatty. It was about 75% fat, 20% meat, and 5% spice around the edge. And there was not a melon in sight! The worst part was that this food was made by my host grandfather. He seemed very proud of it. I managed one bite- with a bread chaser- then hid it under the rest of the pile of food on my plate.

While in Georgia I have also had some of the fattiest fish. I didn't know that fish could have fat on them. Or at least, I assume this thing they keep serving is fish. They told me it was fish. But it was kind of hard to tell for myself because the thing was so overly salted I couldn't taste anything else.

I am proud to say that I have never thrown up because of the quality of the food. Although I did come close once. For the record, don't eat anything from an animal that is beige in color. I was presented a bowl of large beige and white things. I can't even begin to describe what it looked like. They had a layer of white and then a layer of beige and they were large and kind of... scribbly. I asked, "What is it?" and the response I received was simply, "Pig." I figured, What the hell! As I chewed, and chewed, and chewed I realized that what I was eating was pig fat and skin. That was why it layered. It was all sorts of epidermis and fat.

You know, I really don't need to see what my love handles will look like before I eat them.


This might not be the best time to mention this, but despite all of my varied food experiences I fully intend to make a big Georgian meal for people when I get back to the states. And don't worry, I will be kind and not prepare any of the weirder things. Besides, I really don't want to be stuck with those leftovers.