Winding Down

The last day of school is Wednesday. That's in two days! Oh my! But since there are only two days left, of course I haven't had any students showing up for the past week. I mean, even the last two weeks have been comprised of skeleton classes. Mostly it's just the smart kids who care. But I wasn't able to take advantage of that because the teachers had them doing tests mostly. And then last week happened and whole classes stopped showing up entirely. In my seventh grade last Thursday there was one girl. I taught her how to make paper cranes.

Now I'm not exactly surprised that kids have stopped showing up. The four and a half months I've been here have illustrated that no one seems to be a stickler for classroom attendance. But today I had an interaction with a student that just absolutely floored me. I honestly wanted to burst out laughing in this girl's face. About 2 weeks ago a girl in my 9th grade class asked if I could tell her about American slang. I was a little hesitant because this girl's English isn't very good. I'd much rather her practice vocab and grammar. I also feel like people sound so dumb when they speak slang in other languages. I have images of the old SNL sketch with Dan Aykroyd and Steve Martin flash through my head- "We are two wild and crazy guys!" But I talked it over with another volunteer and decided that it might be a good class activity. This was two weeks ago. This girl that asked me to do this hasn't shown up to class once in those two weeks, but she's had no problem stopping me in the hall and asking if I'll give her something on slang. And when she asks I say, "Next class." So today I was sitting in the teacher's room and this girl came by to speak to another teacher and on her way out she came over and asked if I could give her something on slang tomorrow. I said, "Yes, we have class tomorrow I'll give it to you then." And she then proceeded to crinkle her nose and say, "But we class in the 5th period tomorrow and I don't want to stay." This student actually told me that she just didn't want to stay for class! After asking me for two weeks to do something for her, it's really such a hassle to stay in school until 1 in the afternoon?

I have some slang for you: Ballsy.

Holding back my astonishment/annoyance I sternly told her, "Too bad. We are still in school and you are supposed to go to class. So if you want this you'll have to come to class." I can't even imagine ever saying that to a teacher in the U.S. Wow.

I'll be back in Boston in about a week and a half. I can't wait to get a break from Georgia.

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.

How Google Saved My Life

Over the past month I've been waking up some mornings with the strange urge to google search random things. I'm not talking I-wonder-what-the-capital-of-Mongolia-is strange ( it's Ulaanbaatar, in case you were wondering). I'm talking how-do-I-survive-a-dog-attack? strange and what-are-the-symptoms-of-bochulism? strange. I haven't had any dog attack or botulism related dreams, at least not that I can remember. In fact, the dreams I can remember have been remarkably mundane. But I still wake up with the need to know how to survive these life-threatening situations.

Well, it turns out to have paid off.

I was walking to school the other day and I suddenly noticed a very cute dog standing in the open doorway of a fenced-in yard (all the houses in Georgia have some sort of wall, gate, or fencing around their yards and homes. This results in the streets resembling a long, high walled wind tunnels). Telavi has a lot of stray dogs and dogs that probably belong to someone because you always see them near the same house, but they just wander around outside during the day. I've been here for about 2 months and I have not once met an unfriendly dog, and on one occasion I met an, erm, overly friendly dog. When I came upon this particular dog in the gateway I was startled at first not because of the dog, but simply because I hadn't been paying attention. When I saw the dog I paused and noticed that it had a thin, broken rope dangling from its neck and it had already been staring at me. I quickly took an inventory of everything I could remember from the eHow article on surviving a dog attack. I wasn't more than five feet away, so there was no way of avoiding the dog. I blinked to break eye contact and decided to walk on slowly in the direction of the opposite side of the street. Although I had never met an unfriendly dog in Telavi, and this dog couldn't have been more than thirty pounds, I still had a bad feeling about this particular pooch.

As I stepped forward the dark barked and jumped out of the gateway, straight towards my legs. Instinct told me to flee! Run away! Run away! But google had told me to stand still. I came to a dead stop and bent my knees, ready for the dog to pounce on me. I actually stopped so quickly I swayed back in the direction of the dog. This ended up freaking the dog out and it fell out of its lunge towards me, scrambling to get back to the gateway. I stood there for a moment, waiting to see if Fido would make a jump for me again. Thankfully it seemed content to defend its territory from the safety of its yard. I crossed the street calmly, but with haste and felt the tingling going up my spine the rest of the way to school.

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.

Oh, Baby, I'm a Star... in Georgia

I was on the Georgian news! Okay, it was just the local Telavi news station, but hey, can you say you were on the local news in Telavi?

I'm sure it's a really great news story if you speak Georgian. Unfortunately, I don't. But I'm told that it's very good. Also, I've been dubbed. Words from my mouth had to be translated into another language so people could know what I was saying. How cool is that?!

So here's my big Georgian debut...

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