Peace Corps Journals

Untitled

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-06-02 04:14:00

I don't know what to call this one. I want to write to let you know that I am still alive. I just do not have much to say. I saw two dogs doing the deed while I was walking today. I walk (usually) every morning. I had earwax removed from a doctor in Tbilisi (the capital). The Peace Corps foot the bill plus put me up for a night in a hostel. That was Tuesday. Last weekend we all went to see how current volunteers are living. I went out West near the Black Sea. I went with another Trainee. The tourist city (Batumi) was nice. It would be nice to be placed out that way. The current volunteers seem to see each other often and go to a central location. I don't want to be isolated. It was nice to see the light at the end of the tunnel, knowing that PST (training) will be over eventually then we can get on with why we really came here.

We had our placement interviews this week. That is where we tell the staff where we want to be placed. I believe they take our wants into account but the decision isn't ultimately up to us. The staff decides where our skills would be a best fit. We find out June 11th where we will spend the next two years. That will be a nerve-racking day.

We also have our mid-assessments in our technical and language training next week. I am not worried about the technical one. The language one is only there to see how we are doing at our near-halfway mark. I am still worried about it. Oh well. Can't do anything about it except practice and study.

Otherwise, all is well. Still have a student loan hanging over me but hopefully it should be taken care of by the end of next week.
We just completed week 4 of training. Only 7 more to go.
That's all for now.
Alex

Svaneti

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia The Road is Life

2012-06-01 09:02:00

Svaneti is a mountain region in the Caucus mountains and is home to the highest peaks of the mountain range. Up until recently it was not accessible even to most Georgians, not only because of its remoteness, but because the Svan people are known for their fighting and family rivalries, which meant that there was really no law or enforcement there. Recently though, the government has been investing in infrastructure there and tourists have been flocking to see the region. I had heard from other volunteers who had gone that it was breathtakingly beautiful, so it was on my short list of things to do before I leave.

My host sister Nino and I met up with two other volunteers to take the night train out from Tbilisi to Zugdidi, a city on the coast. From there we would meet up with some other volunteers the next morning and take a marshrutka up to Mestia, the main city in Svaneti. I had been given the name of a family who was running a guesthouse there, and our guide Keti - who was just 17 - met us when we arrived and skipped school for a few days to show us around the area.

Our first day was spent climbing around the hill where Mestia and its main towers are situated. The towers of Svaneti are its trademark. They're structures that were used as homes by the wealthy Svan families and from which they could protect themselves against enemies, wage wars themselves, and even hold prisoners if someone dared to steal from them.

Samantha and Nino

carsten and I

Kamran, Rachael, and Kelley - checking out the map with our guide (on the left)

climbing up into the tower....the stairs were pretty steep.

sticking my head out of the tower to see the rest of Mestia

curious pup

and old svan couple with their ox

these dirty roads left our legs COVERED in mud....and cow crap too

the clouds cleared up for a few hours the first day to show some of the mountains

view from our guesthouse patio

The next day we headed to Ushguli, which is the highest year round inhabited village in Europe. The road there is only 45 km from Mestia, but it's unpaved, and in really bad condition, so it took us over 3 hours to get there. Add to that rainy cold weather, and it was quite the ride. A friend we ran into followed us in her car for a bit, but after getting a flat tire early on, we all piled into our marshrutka together. Unfortunately, halfway through, I started getting really car sick (it was a road mean for 4WD and we were in a marshrutka van) so by the time we made it to Ushguli, all I wanted to do was sit in the cafe, be warm, and drink some water. The others headed off to see a church while I sat down at a table, while the owners brought me tea and regaled me with the story of when John McCain visited. I asked if John McCain also got car sick up here, and was told he took a helicopter, and that I should have too. Maybe next time.

enjoying the back seat?

she's enjoying the front seat

break stop

flat tire

the village where we left the car

Nino and I

It got really windy and really cold. This is our "We're not in Kakheti anymore" picture

ushguli church - behind it are some really tall mountains hidden by clouds

the sculpter and owner of the cafe who met John McCain and gave me tea

clearing up just a bit

the cafe where I spent my day

a village on the way back

svaneti has wild boars - and babies!

the tower of love - legend has it that a married man and a woman fell in love, but he killed himself because he couldn't be with her, so in the spot where he died, she built this tower and lived there the rest of her life

The next day we had planned on hiking up to a nearby glacier, so we set out on our path. It was another rainy day, and a couple of hours in we decided to turn back to check out a folk festival we had heard about going on in Mestia. the festival was crowded by the time we got there though, so we left early and had some beer at a local cafe.

we had two dogs following us along the trail and back to the guesthouse

these yellow flowers are honeysuckel, deka, they covered the hillsides and smelled amazing

The next morning we had arranged with Keti to have a marshrutka arrive at our guesthouse at 730am to take us back to Zugdidi so we could all get home. It came on time, we piled in, and were on our way. About thirty minutes later though Nino got a phone call. She and I were in front with the driver, and she started yelling that we had a big problem and we needed to stop and get out of the car immediately. Attributing this reaction to the Georgian teenage girls' flair for drama, I thought she had left something behind and was overreacting. Then my phone rang. I answered, and was told that it was the police. They told me to make the driver stop immediately, that we were in the wrong car, and that they were sending a police car after us to help us. I hung up and called Keti, who told me that we needed to stop and that the marshrutka she had arranged for us was still waiting for us at the guesthouse. I hung up and politely asked the driver to stop, that I needed to get out. He told us no, he wouldn't stop, and that he didn't care what others were telling us. Nino continues to freak out, and receives a call from Keti's mom, saying that if we didn't stop we would all be arrested. We spent the next 5-10 minutes trying to figure out what exactly was going on and who we should be listening to. Were we being 'kidnapped'? The rest of our trip had gone so well!!! If we were in trouble, why was Keti's family angry with us and not worried about us? And why weren't the police telling us anything? None of us were really that concerned (apart from our dramatic teenage girl) though because Peace Corps has an amazing safety and security system. We really were just worried we'd be tied up at a police station all day. Finally, the police called again. This time though they asked us what was wrong and what had happened. We had no idea, why didn't they? We explained we were just tourists heading back to Zugdidi, and they told us that they had been alerted by the other driver and our guide's family that we were in trouble and needed help. The real story though was that our current driver was from a rival family, and he had somehow figured out what time we were leaving and swooped in to take us and make money instead of the other driver. In response, our guide's family alerted the police without telling them the whole story. Everything was resolved, we were allowed to continue on to Zugdidi, and we yelled at our driver for causing the situation. But really, what would a trip to Svaneti have been without being swept up in a family rivalry?

And, a final note. I've had these tennis shoes for about 6 years now. (yeah I know, probably not good for my feet at this point) They've been to 21 countries with me and lots of adventures, but they're finally falling apart. So I left them in Svaneti.

time for some new ones

ping pong paddle strike!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Saint Facetious

2012-06-01 06:26:00

The next day, I met up with the Estonian girl I had met at the Independence Day to show her the fun and glory of the bazaar at Yinis/Vokzal/Vagzlis/Sadguris Moedani. It's always hard to know the name of the place, sense it seems to change as fast as the diapers of a baby with diarrhea. Every time they put up signs on something, they change the name, forcing people to change their signs, but then only half the signs get changed and newcomers to the city never really understand where they're supposed to be going. The first name is still written on all the marshrutkas and buses in town, the second name in Russian on subway signs, the third name in Georgian on half of the subway signs and the fourth name in Georgian on the other half of the subway signs. On maps in English it's translated to Station's Square, a name taxi driver's certainly don't know, and it's always a potluck dinner at an insane asylum on which name the driver would actually know. Then there's the deal where you probably won't be able to pronounce it correctly, so the driver automatically knows your foreigner and will charge double or triple, but at least it's easy to get to on the metro and by bus and marshrutka.

We took the metro. It's my favorite bazaar in town, especially since writing that the overcrowded nonsense out in the open, sprawling through the streets gave the real feeling of an undeveloped country. Someone in the government must have read that blog, years ago, and decided to make it illegal to sell on the street outside of certain zones. It does seem to make the outdoor markets seem a tad more clean and legitimate, but there's still this sprawling underground structure that seems to stretch for a mile, a maze of concrete walls, glass doors, stalls, chickens hanging upside down, fish slapping down, butchers with gleaming knives, old ladies selling cakes and cheese breads and sunflower seeds and sunglasses and hats, hats, hats, watch your head before it knocks down a display of shoes hanging over head! People dodge in and out, empty carts push along searching for something to carry, old ladies with big bags knock people off their feet, two kids playing with a soccer ball dart down one dark alley. The place is absolute chaos. And my favorite place to buy hats and sunglasses. The girl wanted to buy some cherries at the outside market, but after that we quickly ducked in and wandered through the labyrinth. I never carry my string, but somehow find my way out nonetheless, with never meeting a great babushka minotaur waiting to gore me with her cheaply priced drinking horns.

After my acquisitions, I decided to show her to 144 Stairs in the Old Town, where we would join the American guy, Steve, whom we had met the night before. We took the metro and found ourselves at a loss as to why so many people were on it. It seemed that half of Tbilisi was trying to squeeze on to each car, everyone pushing each other to squeeze just one more on, and soon we were standing like cigarettes, tall in the box. Not the slim kinds, since most people on it weren't so slim, but you get the picture. Jumbles of sweating men and babushkas held tight into place, without a need to hold on to a bar, since there was only enough room on the ground to put down ones feet – if that. The old ladies with red table tennis paddles who normally stand around the metros were gone – they must have been frightened off at the sight of actually having to do work. This meant it was up to your new bosom sweat lodge companion to pull you on to the metro and make sure that the doors didn't chop off any vital parts when they closed.

When we emerged, we saw where all the various halves of Tbilisi were going. Liberty Square had filled up, in what I at first thought was simply another Georgian Independence Day celebration. “They weren't this crazy about Independence Day last year,” I told Reet, the Estonian girl. “This is insane.” In all earnestness, it appeared that half of Tbilisi was squeezed onto the square, listening the the speakers shout out different slogans. After seeing all the blue flags – and not just all the NATO flags curiously flying everywhere – I finally realized that this wasn't simply a celebration, it was a rally. Ivanishvili, Saakashvili's now primary political contender, was holding a rally to promote his own party, Georgian Dream.

It was only of slight interest to me, since of larger import was figuring out how the hell we were going to get across all those people to get to the Old Town. But we managed, just as horrific pop music started blaring from the speakers. Old Town itself was practically empty, and we made it without further incident until we got to Maidan, flooded with what could have been another celebration or another rally, it was hard to tell, but here at least they were singing more traditional Georgian songs. We made our climb up to the restaurant, sat down and watched the tourists coming in thinking this was the route to the castle that hung overhead. “Nope, sorry, wrong way,” the waitress – the only waitress in Tbilisi who understood the practice of good customer service – would tell each of them, “but please come sit down and have some wine to rest up.”

view from 144 Stairs

Steve finally joined us and I was able to explain the curious political situation in Georgia – what little I could understand, since half the people I spoke to always made the mention, “but don't talk too loud, they could be listening.” “Um, who?” “They.” It was like people were having flashbacks to the Soviet Union, and even worse since it was finally a time when they could talk about improving their own country rather than how Russians were at fault for everything.

From 144 Stairs, I took them to a Georgian restaurant, Chokhrulo, on Rustaveli (the crowds had thankfully dissipated by this time). Chokhrulo was one of my favorite places to show to tourists, since the place was of decent price, good food and had live Georgian music and semi-traditional Georgian dancing. The dancing was interesting, since it was changed up a bit and mixed with other styles, making it always a little different and compelling.

Next stop, was some empty bar with cheap beer and then we wrapped things up. Steve was in town on some bank business and Reet was here for some conference and both had to work in the morning.

ping pong paddle strike!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Saint Facetious

2012-06-01 06:26:00

view from 144 Stairs

Out West

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2012-05-31 17:55:48

This past weekend, I traveled to Kobuleti, a town in the west on the Black Sea, to job shadow a current PCV. When I first read my job shadowing assignment and realized that I would be traveling all the way across the country, I was a bit nervous about navigating my way there. As it … Continue reading »

The Air Up There

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia seanandmckinze.com

2012-05-31 16:16:44

Last Monday we went to Abastumani: two years to the day after our first (and only other) visit there. Last …

What we expected

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Go Kartli

2012-05-30 17:00:00

Sam and I have spent the last several days and even weeks slowly paring down our stuff, washing our sweaters one last time so we can donate them, shifting books into piles of "definitely take," "probably take," "maybe take," and "are you sure these won't fit into our bags?" The process of unloading and trying to decide what we will keep and what we'll leave behind comes when it should, near the end of our 27 months of Peace Corps service. Sam leaves in 16 days; I'll be another month behind him in taking off. Having the piles to make and shift, the clothes to wash, the work with physical things, helps us keep our hands and minds busy, which is good because it's tough to think about leaving here and tough to think about readjusting to paying bills and following baseball again. But the work doesn't always stay the mind, and our thoughts have been all over the place lately.

A lot of our conversations have focused on what we expected and how far we missed the mark on our expectations. I've heard a lot of my fellow PCVs talk (and blog) about regrets and and failures in their service. I think we're all about at that point, thinking "I shoulda..." and that makes sense.

When I was applying for Peace Corps, going through orientation and even making my way through our intensive training, I had my expectations. I was going to learn a new language. Really well. I was going to finally make myself learn how to knit. I was going to have Sam teach me to play the guitar, and to speak some Arabic (because one or two new languages is never enough). I was going to write on this blog religiously. I was going to take lots of photographs. I was going to really integrate into my community and forge lots of lifelong friendships. I was going to travel to many new countries and all around the country I was placed in. I was going to stay positive at all times and really Make a Difference (in capital letters, of course, because it was Serious, How Dedicated I Would Be). I was going to write grants and receive money to implement amazing community development projects. I was going to make my mark. I was going to better myself in the process of bettering the world.

I'm sure that if I polled PCVs worldwide, I'd find that the ones who actually responded to the poll (we're pretty notoriously bad on responding to polls and surveys at this point, after 26 months of way too many evaluation forms and surveys) would have a list like mine of things they expected to do or to get out of their Peace Corps service. And, I'd be willing to further bet, that most PCVs on the cusp of heading home have been letting themselves get down about the things they failed to do, about the things they expected that never came to be, about their regrets.

On this front, I should add that a few months ago, a lot of PCVs here in Georgia were sharing this article about what one returned PCV learned about failure during her service. In a lot of ways, the article really rubbed me the wrong way. I think it jumps all over the place, on different kinds of topics that are all labeled in the end as failure (she talks of challenges, setbacks, celebrating small successes, not having unrealistic expectations, realizing that we are not perfect, and failure). As I begin the Serious Reflection Time myself, I think the article really does highlight some of the many feelings we all go through during Peace Corps. It's certainly true that we feel like failures in Peace Corps a lot. We have lots of time to ourselves with our thoughts and we go down the rabbit hole of regret more often than we should. I think this article, that was shared and exclaimed about by lots of us, emphasizes this, but it doesn't really emphasize how much of this is just us playing mind games with ourselves. I still don't think it's accurate to name these times when our expectations didn't align with our outcomes as "failure;" that's just life, whether in Peace Corps or elsewhere. Maybe it would be fairer to say that something about the nature of Peace Corps (as a major life-changing event) causes us to forget this.

Of the PCVs I've been privileged enough to get to know and work with here in Georgia, I can say with certainty that none has been a failure in any sense. Many may have regrets, but they shouldn't, not about the work they've done nor about the good they've accomplished. Some have excelled as teachers, getting students to care about learning English or start doing their homework. Others have helped their organizations gain computer skills or new equipment, or just how to hold office meetings that start on time and don't allow yelling. Some PCVs have written grants or started clubs or created resources that will continue to benefit their communities for years to come. Others have made friends with locals and been really able to share in cultural exchange. Still other PCVs have provided the support of their fellow volunteers that we all needed to get through the rough days, giving us shoulders to cry on, patiently listening as we complain about eating fried potatoes for yet another dinner.

We all came into this with our expectations, as any person does as they enter any new phase in life. The failure to meet these expectations doesn't equal failure overall, though. Maybe the most important things we can learn from our service are not to deal easily with our failure, but to recognize and celebrate our successes, no matter how small; to set reasonable expectations for ourselves and others; and to learn what it is that we are truly capable of.

a gator without his teeth

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Saint Facetious

2012-05-30 14:38:00

The past weekend was Georgian Independence Day - the one celebrating their independence from the Russian Empire some 100 years ago. They had shut down Rustaveli Avenue getting prepared for the shindig, rerouting buses and taxis to go all over, being a surprise to fools like myself attempting to make the trip from my home to Old Town, cramming into an already overcrowded bus only to find it turning around mid-trip and making a much longer trek to my intended destination. Marjanishvili, another major area of the town, was also shut down as they prepared for festivities, making a city already known for its traffic into a nightmarish traffic deadlock of hell. That day, I headed down to the festival on Rustaveli, thinking for much of it I just wanted to be alone in my misery, taking in all the sights and sounds and fairly sure that I had lost my love for good. It was time to start moving on, as a snail does without his shell, or an alligator without his teeth.

The street was packed, thousands of people had turned out to this celebration of Georgia and exhibition of Georgian goods, which primarily included wine, bad beer and ice cream. Bands were placed on balconies overseeing the masses, playing out Georgian pop music and 80s music, making it have the same bad soundtrack of an early 90s Russian movie. At the end of the exhibition, or the beginning, depending on where one started, there was a Tbilisi metro car, some toy planes and a big oil tanker car with advertisements for Azerbaijani oil. I wasn't sure the point of any of the three, but each attracted their own small crowd of admirers, eyes wide and mouths opened at the mystery of whatever it was they were looking at. I myself just grabbed an ice cream and moved on to meet my friends for a barbecue at the Why Not? hostel (one of the better, more unique and friendlier hostels in Tbilisi).

At the Why Not? one of the owners, the German named Benji, used to be a professional chef, so I take every opportunity I can to eat his delicious cooking. The first I had tasted his skills was in the tourist town of Sighnaghi, back in the early days of my arrival when I was hanging out with Andy, Indga and the Lone Wolf. Also resident at the Why Not? lately recruited in my band of motley expats was the gigantic Misha, a Polish guy who could go head to head in height with any player in the NBA and Andres, another Polish guy who wasn't nearly as tall as Misha, but what he lacked in height he made up for in cool. I had met Andres when I had met Benji back in Sighnaghi, and then Misha I met at the wine festival a few weeks before. I've always been a fan of free wine festivals, anywhere in the world really, though Georgian ones are always tip top, sense they include drunk Georgians who break out in their intensely mystical sounding traditional songs. Actually, free alcohol in general sings to me songs sweeter than that of sultry sirens. But I digress.

at the Marjanishvili metro

All of us together went to the closing ceremonies of the Independence Day: a huge concert rallying thousands of more Georgians to celebrate the thing that all Georgians tend to celebrate everyday – being Georgian. The concert did lack in xatchapuris, khinkali, beer and wine though, but the security was easy to get past as me and my new couchsurfing friend, a fellow American, chatted with some police officers while we drank from our two liter plastic bottles of brews. The police officers, forgetting the uniforms when confronted by foreigners, went on with the usual Georgian schtick, “Do you like khinkali? Georgian girls?”

“I have Georgian girls,” I told them.

“Why?”

“Well...” and then they were the newest people to learn my tale of woe.

“Yeah, really, Georgian girls are all crap and liars,” one of the policemen said. “Ukrainian girls are the best!”

We went on back to our group, which was depleting rapidly, and now all that was left was a pretty Estonian girl who I would hang out with for the next few days and another guy who I can't really recall anything about. He was either a Russian or Georgian. Or maybe Iranian. Or Jewish. Or maybe he's even on my Facebook friend's list and I just can't remember who the hell it was.

Anyways, we wound up the night at one of my latest additions in haunts, Canudos. Canudos didn't exist prior to my departure from Georgia, but it had happily took flight since my return, becoming one of the three more Bohemian type bars to exist in Georgia. The place has a great, huge patio almost shared with by a shady strip club always guarded by brutes in black suits and red ties. The bar's patio is always littered with broken bottles and nappy haired hippies, while the interior is equally suited to nappy haired hippies and the Georgian equivalent to the hipster. Among others, there is always a strong contingent of expats there meaning the locals usually speak either English or Russian, so I can at least communicate with them and creep out all the women – a happy past time that I finally get to return to, since the month I was waiting ran out and the girl decided to let the better man lose, just like when Chelsea had lost the UEFA cup to Arsenal some years ago.

a gator without his teeth

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Saint Facetious

2012-05-30 14:38:00

at the Marjanishvili metro

Mistakes

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia The Lyon Tales

2012-05-30 08:14:00

I’ve talked a lot about the things I’ve done and the projects I’ve completed. I take great pride in these accomplishments, and wish I could do more in Keda. Right now I want to talk a bit about my failures here the past two years. It’s a good practice to look back on an experience and see what went well and what went poorly. I’m not necessarily depressed or have deep regrets about any of these, but they are things I should reflect on for the future.

First up is my Georgian language ability. From the beginning of PST I slacked off on my language acquisition. I figured “Hey, two years is a long time, and I am in class four hours a day, six days a week, I need to relax and not study too hard.” Ugh… I wish in PST I spent more time studying the vocabulary and really trying to take in the language. It was hard because it really was the first language I ever had to learn, and there was a lot of terminology and grammar that I didn’t understand. I am not horrible at Georgian, but I could have done better. I remember before I left I thought I’d spend the first year learning Georgian, and the second year learning Russian (I’ve always wanted to learn and speak Russian). I set that goal for myself, and I didn’t achieve it well. I can read in Russian, and having a Russian speaking girlfriend certainly helps, but I failed in learning being fluent in Georgian, and hardly know Russian. I keep this in mind, because I need to continue studying Russian, and I know that it just takes WORK. No way around it, I just need to work at it.

My second perceived failure would be in the schools. To anybody who isn’t a teacher I want to tell you: TEACHING IS HARD. It’s easy if all you want to do is babysit all day long, but daily lesson planning, planning activities, classroom management, and dealing with a wide range of knowledge and abilities is difficult. Then throw in my less than superb language abilities and all you find is a frustrated Tom being laughed at by a classroom of students for saying “kvertskhebi” (eggs). In Georgian the ‘ebi’ signifies possessive case, but when used with the word for egg, “kvertski” it means testicles. Live and learn. These language issues and frustrations with large class sizes was a breeding ground for my discontent. I came in the first year with a good attitude, but there were multiple issues in and out of my control that resulted in me pulling away from the school and really letting many of my students down. I won’t talk too much about this now because I’m still teaching, and I’m still a PCV, but I will write a more detailed account after I COS in three weeks.

I’d say my third failure—well not really a failure more a regret—was not getting out more. I met a lot of people and did a lot in my first few months at site. My host sister and I would go to the park and we’d just go around Keda having fun. It was a good summer. The first winter forced everyone to stay indoors, but I didn’t come back out of my shell the next spring. I don’t know why, but I didn’t spend as much time hanging out in the center of town or going to other people’s houses. I think some was culture shock hitting me, and feeling frustrated being asked the same frustrating questions. Some of it was people asking me why I didn’t speak Georgian better, and me feeling guilty and therefore not willing to say anything else. Then maybe it was that whenever I did go to someone else’s home I would be expected to drink copious amounts of wine and/or tchatcha. You might think, “Dude, that’s awesome.” No, it isn’t. Seriously, parts of me just want to go back to the USA and never touch a drink again. I never had a bad experience, and I never got sick, but I have never been a huge drinker, and I disliked being judged for not drinking enough (ironically if you drink too much it’s looked down on and they gossip about it). Still, I wish I had gone out more and just hung out with people in town.

So, there you have it. These failures don’t define my PC service, and I’m not upset or depressed by them. I’m just reflecting on the experience, and trying to find ways to grow and learn from it. I’m sure there are other mistakes I’ve made, and other things I could have and should have done differently, this is it for now.

The times they are a-changin'!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia a box of chocolates

2012-05-29 11:27:00

Life in Georgia is curious and interesting. Life in Kvareli is even more so. From an outsider's perspective, it probably looks like nothing has changed in this town for several decades. But as an insider, I know nothing could be further from the truth. In less than a year that I've lived in Kvareli, I've seen an ordinary lake turn into a fully-developed recreational site with cafes, tennis courts and rental boats. I've seen what appeared to be pile of dirt and metal turn into a sophisticated medical center (never mind the doctors standing outside smoking all day). I've seen gravel roads being paved, hotels being constructed and several businesses opening their doors. And believe it or not, I've even seen Starbucks! (Okay, so it's not fresh-brewed coffee; it's the refrigerated lattes and cappuccinos, but still… it's Starbucks!)

Back in the day, Georgia was the most affluent region in the USSR. Everyone had jobs, money and big homes. Life was good. Then, with the collapse of the Soviet Union, it all fell apart. Countless people lost their jobs, nobody had money to maintain their homes and many people were hungry. But Georgians are strong and determined, and over the years, they have picked themselves up and worked to rebuild their lives. They learned new trades, opened new businesses and started learning English. My organization alone has been awarded countless grants for projects that improved the lives of citizens: installing wells to access potable water, building bridges, roads and schools, training police officers, and even providing Christmas presents for low-income and orphaned children. In addition to the hard work of the local people, the government has also targeted Kvareli as the next big tourist destination in Georgia, which means they are dumping tons of money (and jobs!) into this town with the dream that Kvareli will someday be a booming tourist center.

Knowing how far they have come and how hard they are working just makes me love these people even more. Sure, they still have their issues and many people still struggle day to day – but a lot of them are trying, and that's all that matters to me.

Here are a few photos of the latest developments in Kvareli:

Brand new medical facility

Fancy new gas station with an even fancier convenience store (where Starbucks was found!)

Gravel roads waiting to be paved!

Kvareli Lake Resort with its amazing views (also known as President Saakashvili's home away from home)

Ilia's Lake, a new recreation area with a mountaintop restaurant, lakeside cafes and amazing views (I was actually taking a picture of Kvareli, not the lake, but you can see the new developed area in the bottom left corner)

Newly opened Khareba winery, located inside a 2km-long tunnel (the second longest in the world!)

Khareba's mountainside restaurant (you can even take an ELEVATOR from the winery to the restaurant… talk about fancy!)

Oh, and that… yes, that's the new Holiday Inn, which is being built for the influx of tourists coming to Kvareli!

This just goes to prove how hard Georgians are working to make their world a better place. And while my role here may be small, it's still an incredible feeling to be a part of it. With all of the changes I've seen in just the last 10 months, I can't wait to see how this town looks in 10 years!

Memorial Day

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia The Lyon Tales

2012-05-28 14:34:00

I just finished reading my sister-in-law’s post. I don’t mean to sound redundant, but I want to say something as well. There’s a simple quote that some people attribute to Winston Churchill, and some attribute to George Orwell: "We sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm." It doesn’t matter if you’re talking about World War II or Vietnam, our soldiers are still there willing to defend our lives—unfortunately they don’t always get a say in where they go.

I think nowadays it becomes difficult for people to separate our soldiers from the politics. I have my own opinions on the wars, but this is not a political post. Plus, I’m not supposed to make big political statements on the internet (remember I do work for the US Government). Memorial Day is not a time for politics. It is a time to honor the people who have sacrificed their lives for the rest of us. It is for the soldiers who fought bravely from the Revolution all the way to the War in Afghanistan.

Not all wars have been justified and/or legal. I don’t find America that different from most other nations past and present as far as its human rights is concerned. I know we have many black spots in our history, trust me; I’ve studied them a lot. It doesn’t matter. This is a day to remember the SOLDIERS and their FAMILIES. All soldiers sacrifice something, and some sacrifice everything. One might argue, “It’s their choice, and it’s their own fault”. You can say that, but then I say: “Yes, they CHOSE to sacrifice their time, their family, and sometimes their lives for their country.” I think that makes the individual soldier honorable. We should honor their families as well.

Memorial Day may have originally been reserved for soldiers, but we can remember and memorialize others who have given their lives in service to our country. We can memorialize the men and women who worked in the underground railroad, the women who marched for their rights, and anyone else willing to step up to make our country a better place. That is what makes a country great—the ability to improve and try to become better than it was the day before. It takes the entire nation to do that, and our soldiers are willing to do their part. I guess my question to anyone reading this post (which is very few) is: What have YOU done to make America a better place? While you think about it for a second I will, too. I certainly haven't done enough, in my opinion.

I despise the people who just complain about the problems, but don’t offer solutions or don’t participate in the process to make it better. Memorial Day is a day to remember the people who did everything they could for their country, and were willing to sacrifice everything for it—not just soldiers.

Nonetheless, thank you to the men and women of our Armed Forces—and of course, Dean.

Q, Vas, Timmy—you guys as well.

Strolling the Village Streets

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia seanandmckinze.com

2012-05-28 07:32:04

On Friday my office had planned to visit a village about 30 minutes outside of Akhaltsikhe called Arali. I love …

Last Last Bell

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Go Kartli

2012-05-26 13:10:00

Last Bell Ceremony, Akhalkalaki School #2

The symbolic last bell, being run by a 12th grader and a 1st grader. Too bad it was all a tease--school doesn't actually get out for another month.

May 18 was marked the end of the school year for the 1st and 12th graders at schools in Georgia. It was the day of the much anticipated, much beloved "Last Bell" ceremony. (You may remember that the school year began with the "First Bell" ceremony.) Sam and I headed to our schools a little later than usual to watch the festivities.

My school's kids, all ready to celebrate! White tops and black bottoms were the designated attire for students, as per usual in important school events here

Sam's school's director gives a speech for their Last Bell, congratulating the 12 grade

A group of teachers from my school

As with any good school celebration in Akhalkalaki, there were the obligatory speeches by the director, teachers, students and parents, along with songs, dances, and readings of poems. This ceremony is an interesting one, akin to our graduation celebrations, but involving everyone from all grades. It's also different from American graduation in that it comes before final exams, before students actually learn if they've graduated. Other students (whom Sam and I hadn't ever seen before in any classes) return to school to join their class for the festivities, even though they dropped out of school 2-3 years earlier to start to work or to get married and start families (yes, that happens with unpleasant frequency here--in my school alone, I think I've had about 10 girls a year leave from the 9th-12th grades to get married). I've talked with lots of teachers and students alike about the Last Bell ceremony and everyone that I've talked with agrees that it makes no sense to hold the ceremony before the end of school (the rest of the grades, 2-11, continue with classes until June 15) and for all students in the 12th grade, even those who will not graduate or receive diplomas. On the other hand, nearly all of my interlocutors said that it is something nice for all students to be able to celebrate, regardless of their academic success. And it's a nice way for the students to officially say goodbye to their childhoods (even if, in some cases, they've already said goodbye).

Balloons were a nice idea, but not a second ticked by without at least two popping (or being popped) by some of the (I'm sure) very attentive and well behaved younger students

The 12th graders didn't have caps and gowns, but they did have nifty sashes

In any case, Last Bell represents another way in which Georgia and America have something in common while still having something different. We both want to celebrate the accomplishment of making it through school, to mark the end of school as a rite of passage. I do wish that American celebrations included more children dancing around with lit roman candles or setting off paper hot air balloons or releasing doves. Maybe Sam and I can bring some Georgian traditions back home with us.

My favorite performance included a group of 3rd grade girls, apparently dressed as wizards, dancing around with star-shaped wands to a song about stars raining down on us.

The symbolic releasing of doves was unexpected (at least by me). Luckily, no birds pooped on me.

Another dance number by one of my 6th grade classes featured some extremely unhappy-to-be-dancing-while-wearing-white-capes boys. I did not manage to contain my giggles during some of their dance moves.

Sam's school had some signs and decorations up for the day

His school also featured a traditional Armenian dance by one of the students

The big event at both our schools, though, was the 12 grade dancing the waltz. They practiced at my school for months to get through this dance. If only they had had so much dedication to schoolwork...

Towards the end of my school's celebration, the wizard girls came back out again and were each handed a gigantic, lit roman candle to dance around with. I thought that was a lawsuit waiting to happen until the 12th graders brought out the paper lantern/hot air balloons and lit them up

some things changed

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Saint Facetious

2012-05-24 12:36:00

There are things that have changed in Tbilisi and Georgia since I've been away, and I mean other than the monumental statue of Ronald Reagan that stands tall in the middle of the new park underneath the presidential palace. There are also things that have remained the same, like the traffic, which is always a cause for heart attacks and near deaths. It's always interesting to go to a city after a time and see all the minute changes and similarities as it was before, and wonder if being in a city at a different time makes you in a different city. Corners change, people change, friends change. That was my sensation in Denver – though much of it remained exactly the same as I had first left it, enough of it changed to make it, if not a different city, then at least a alternate reality Denver. It was only eight months since I had last set food in Tbilisi. My love for Keti had grown stronger, she was pretending hers for me had gone and the city had carried on.

I noticed, while walking the streets for the first few weeks after Sighnaghi, when at last I was on my feet again after the great despair of what had happened when I first arrived, that many of the construction projects that had been underway had been finished. There was now a completed and modern tower near where the Estonian's had lived, lines of laundry already hanging between the stainless steel columns and behind the glass balcony rails. The new casino next to the garish pedestrian bridge that arches over the Mtkvari finished as well, its appearance making a run for the bridge's money on which structure seemed more out of place in the Old Town. Then there were some of my more liked restaurants that had become missing, like my favorite coffee shop that was set in Saburtalo suddenly turned into an overpriced Turkish restaurant – but new places also popped up, like the bar, 144 Steps, that has a patio overlooking much of old Tbilisi. Another street had been completely redeveloped, out near the Marjanashvili metro station. What was once a sandy construction site covered in green tarps had revealed itself as the next main street of Tbilisi, the buildings renovated to look as they did two hundred years ago, the sidewalks smoothed out, parallel parking spaces put in place and cobblestones laid out. It would have been a completely beautiful street had they not cut the trees in half, wanting to reveal their hard work at the renovations from street level. Besides the tree atrocity, they did manage to make an impressionable street.

The most notable change though, was that the bus system had gone under a minor improvement. What could have been made simple by the addition of paper schedules and maps and getting buses to actually stay on schedule, they alleviated by putting digital signs up telling the bus number and the minutes left before it came. Buses continued to operate by the standard Georgian system of pretending there was a frequency and schedule and then ignoring both pretensions, but at least they found some way to communicate that to the rider.

Two new beers had also arrived on the same, replacing the distilled vomit that was Natakhtari with something more palatable than the distilled diahrrea juice that was Kazbegi. Mtieli and Zedezeni made the scene, both offering something almost as refreshing as a Schlitz Malt Liquor.

Another big change could be found in the banks. Where before, you had to fight back a mob of angry Georgians in order to talk to a banker – and then still having to compete with everyone who was constantly trying to discourse with the banker even after she started helping you – they finally learned from Turkey and other countries and just started making people take numbers and sit down. It's a much better system which allows my blood pressure to drop when I have to get a new bank card.

What were some things that hadn't changed? The easiest to spot in Tbilisi is the homicidal traffic (by homicidal, I mean, they aim for you). Where somehow Yerevan, just to the south in Armenia, had seized upon being the first Caucasian country to have sensible traffic (another first for Armenia!), Tbilisi still enjoyed its chaotic and daredevil livelihood. Crossing the street continues to be a fatal version of the Atari classic, Frogger, except where in the Atari game you simply just become a flattened frog and start over, in this version one misstep can lead to bouncing off fifteen cars until finally rolled over by a Lada chugging along, slowest of all, all the while drivers would be cursing your bleeding and dying body for having the audacity to try to cross the street at a cross walk. The best way to cross the street remains to simply find a well mannered babushka who seems to know what she's been doing, lines wrinkling her eyes like rings in a tree, measuring all the times she's lived crossing a street. Lines and lights remain as suggestions, as do the streets themselves, a fact well known by any pedestrian who's had to jump out of the way of a Mercedes careening down a pot-hole covered, half-dirt sidewalk.

What else hasn't changed? Customer service. You can stand at the help desk for an hour without being asked if you need help. Best practice here is to start talking to a representative when they seem almost finished with the person in front of you – despite all the Western sensibilities and urges to wait your turn you ideologies might be compelled to follow. If you wait until their finished, another person will have already cut in on your business. And before you know it, you've been waiting in a line at the hospital for an hour just to make an appointment for the next day. Nevermind service at a restaurant, where unless you hunt your waitress down like your a wolf and she's a big load of venison, you can say goodbye to your chances of getting served anytime soon.

The dust hasn't changed either. On a windy day like today, a person almost needs a gas mask to walk down the streets without having to blow your nose sixteen times.

And despite all this, I still found myself enjoying the city, even as I had to wipe away the bits of sand that flew in my face and dodge the guy who stopped midwalk to answer his phone and light his cigarette.

some things changed

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Saint Facetious

2012-05-24 12:36:00

The dust hasn't changed either. On a windy day like today, a person almost needs a gas mask to walk down the streets without having to blow your nose sixteen times.

One Last Trip

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia The Road is Life

2012-05-23 09:36:00

There's nothing quite like spending your morning sitting up in a cherry tree, eating cherries in the middle of a vineyard. That's what Nino and I did this morning, hoping to have some fruit to eat on our long journey out to Svaneti, a really remote mountain region up on the border with Russia. ( I think we might have eaten them all though.) With just over two weeks left though, I am taking one last trip to see some sites since the rest of my time will be spent finishing up at school, saying goodbyes, and getting everything packed and organized. I spent last week in Tbilisi so I could do all the final medical, dental, and administrative interviews and paperwork - there's almost more to do to get out of Peace Corps than there was to get in! Then I headed to Kortaneti for one last weekend with my host family, where I made khinkali from scratch, and got proposed to by a Georgian friend. (I said no) Just a normal weekend in the village.

Newspapers

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia The Lyon Tales

2012-05-23 08:50:00

I got interviewed by some newspapers this past week. One was an opposition newspaper located in Batumi that I think is famous amongst PCVs for writing the article “Where to Find Prostitutes 5 Lari and Up”. The other newspaper, which actually had to reschedule is the newspaper for Keda. Apparently the fitness center has made a pretty big splash in many areas. I heard that directors from other regions in Adjara came to see how we did it and what we had. The newspapers have been waiting, and now suddenly appear. Peace Corps told me it’s a matter of time before the news stations come out as well. Hopefully I’ll be on a plane back to the USA before that happen—I don’t like cameras—or reporters.

Still, it was nice telling my story and having the journalist look at me, tilt her head and go “How old are you?” “I’m 25.” “And you planned all THIS?” I’ve been approached several times on the street with people saying, “Tom, thank you for the fitness center, it’s wonderful.” A lot of men tell me this, but from what I hear men hardly use the center. Women are in there all the time, though. I’m just very pleased with the way it all turned out. My school life may not be something I enjoy talking about, and I don’t make a great English teacher, but this development stuff I really enjoy doing.

With TLG volunteers pouring into schools I think Peace Corps may want to think about changing its mission here. Whenever I’m asked about the new Volunteers coming to the Keda region I just say “I don’t know.” Honestly, I have no idea. I just think that Peace Corps teachers have done excellent work here, but maybe let the Georgian government work out their own schools and let Peace Corps focus on what we do best: clubs, sports, development, camps, and gender projects. I just hope whoever the new Volunteer in Keda is will utilize the fitness center as a resource to do healthy lifestyle trainings and fitness classes; which I unfortunately ran out of time and money to do.

Good luck G-12s.

Less than one month!!

The City That Loves You

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia seanandmckinze.com

2012-05-22 18:51:39

A good friend of mine always says that he loves when people come to visit him in his city, because …

First week in my village

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia pcvgeorgia

2012-05-21 03:21:55

Where to even begin. It has been 2 weeks now since I left on my comfort zone in theUnited Statesto move across the world to the small but beautiful and luscious country of Georgia. It has been a week now … Continue reading →

Snapshots From The Weekend

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2012-05-20 14:12:50

After a four hour language/culture class on Saturday, I had the whole weekend to myself. This is the greatest amount of free time I’ve had since arriving in Georgia, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I spent a lot of time reading and writing, hanging out with my host family, and going to Telavi on Sunday … Continue reading »

When you've got pain in your belly, And you make some liquid smelly...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Alex's Adventures

2012-05-20 07:48:00

Yesterday was my first time calling the doctor. Don't worry. Nothing I have to be hospitalized for. Everything is better now. It just throws off my day having to sit around and do nothing. Some days I feel like the language is coming along then others are the complete opposite. The people I surround myself around make the days a Hell of a lot easier. 2 weeks down! Only 9 more (of PST) to go! If I ever remember to bring my camera, I'll upload pictures.
Classes are going well. It is interesting to work with teachers who learned English under a way different from how we are expected to teach this generation of kids. Many of the teachers have never met a native speaker so the kids definitely get a different perspective. I really enjoy teaching and am always looking forward to a new lesson. I do my first lesson planning with the other trainees (in Ruispiri) and an English teacher tonight. If I could write in this everyday, I could probably have more to say. But I don't.
Goodbye.

Whirlwind

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia seanandmckinze.com

2012-05-18 22:07:57

And just like that, we’re back in Georgia! (Well, not “just like that” – but our 19.5 hours in transit …

sunny rain

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia all of the bells

2012-05-18 19:54:23

This afternoon, while walking home from work, I felt sprinkles of water hit my face. Since it was a bright sunny day my first assumption was that some child was spitting on me from a balcony. Now. Please don’t get … Continue reading →

Jobs

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia The Lyon Tales

2012-05-17 13:57:00

I decided with just a few weeks remaining in Peace Corps I will update a bit more often. After I COS I’ll probably start a new blog (or not) depending on my (un)employment situation. Perhaps I could call it “The Unemployed Lyon” or “Employ the Lyon”. Eh, no matter, yet. I’ll figure out my life goal at some point. I’ll really miss my current blog title. For such a cool name I should have been a lot more active in my blog writing.

I promised I’d write a bit about my current job search for after Peace Corps. I am looking throughout the internet, and my Mom is in the USA scouring through newspapers and the internet trying to find jobs for me as a social studies teacher. That’s what I’m certified as by the amazingly awesome State of New Jersey [Shore]. The lists for teachers is considerably larger than it was the year I left for Peace Corps, or the year before that when I got my Masters. I would think that now with my awesome Peace Corps experience it’d be a lot easier trying to find jobs. I mean both my best friends know what they’re doing. Unfortunately, after turning in half-dozen online applications and even more paper applications I am still jobless. Maybe it’s the fact I’m not in the USA, and they cannot interview me? Maybe I’ve been away for too long? Maybe it’s my college transcript that has that big ol’ 2.8 written there (yeah, I didn’t study nearly hard enough).

I guess now I’m worried about what I’ll do next. If I don’t get a job then I’ll be living at home and helping my sister-in-law take care of her five children. Maybe I’ll start expanding the garden my brother made years ago. This last one is something that really interests me now. Here in Georgia I sometimes go with my host family to the village to do work—actually, they do the work and just want me to sit there. I don’t blame them too much, this is their livelihood and they wouldn’t want some idiot American destroying their crops. Still, these aren’t huge sprawling farms, but just large enough to look awesome. I wonder what my Mom and Dad would have to say to this. I mean, my Mom loves gardening, but she may not have a small farm in mind for our backyard. It would be a lonely option, because Plainsboro is not well suited for a fun single life.

Then of course I could get back and look for jobs outside the teaching profession. I could go to Washington, D.C. and maybe work for the Government. I have one-year non-competitive eligibility for federal jobs. I don’t know what that will get me, but hopefully something. I always loved Washington and would totally live there again if I could. Plus, many of my friends are still in the area, so I already have a social base.

My final idea is a bit ruined now, but I’ve thought of reinventing it differently. I had been thinking of moving to Ukraine and trying to find a job there. I don’t enjoy teaching English, but if I found a high enough paying job I’d consider it. Unfortunately, I don’t see Kyiv as an option anymore for different reasons. I have been thinking about Tbilisi, though. A G-9 works in Tbilisi now, and I think he enjoys it. Then there are different NGOs and alike that I could get into. There are opportunities here, and most positions could give me a comfortable living wage for Tbilisi. One former PCV was telling me of a 2,500 GEL/month position. I like Tbilisi a lot, and I’d be interested in MAYBE spending another 2-3 years here.

Or I could move to Rhode Island/Connecticut with my newly engaged best friend and be a bus boy at a bar.

Nonetheless, America is my first choice. Don’t leave me high and dry here Uncle Sam. I’ve served you faithfully now for two years. Time to return the favor.

can i get a witness?

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia all of the bells

2012-05-16 20:22:04

Today, while enjoying a late breakfast, I heard a knock on the door. Since my host mom had already left for work, I answered it. Standing outside were two men in crisp dress shirts. We said hello to each other … Continue reading →

Where do we go from here?

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Go Kartli

2012-05-16 13:24:00

Today is May 16. Hard as it is to believe sometimes, Sam and I have been living here in Georgia for 25 months. The end of our Peace Corps service is now galloping towards us, and as hard as it is going to be to leave here, we're starting to also get that rush of excitement about heading back home. Leaving will mean wrapping up all the projects that we've put our time and effort into over the past 2+ years, and saying lots of goodbyes that I'm not actually prepared to think about yet. These approaching sad moments, combined with the sheer fear of the unknown that is the next step in the life after Peace Corps have made me put off thinking about the future in a lot of ways. But many of you have been asking us what we'll be doing and where we'll be going, so here's our breakdown, as far as we know.

Sam's got more concrete plans than I do. Here's what he'll be doing over the next 3 months:
June 15: Officially close his Peace Corps service and depart for a 3-week archaeological field school.

What an archaeological field school may or may not entail

July 6-8: Spend 3 days in Kiev on a layover. I'm guessing he'll try the chicken.
July 8-August 3: Spend 4 weeks studying German intensively in Vienna. Sacher torte will be eaten, and socks will most likely be worn with sandals.

Last year's Sacher torte

August 4-August 8: Travel to Copenhagen, Denmark. Hopefully there won't be anything rotten about it.
August 8-August 17: Head to Iceland to see puffins (and baby puffins, which are apparently called "pufflings") and pretend to be a viking.

Puffin!

August 17: Arrive in Washington Dulles airport at 7pm. Drink some root beer.
August 17-September 15-ish: Visit friends and family!
September 15-ish: Move to Chicago.
October 1: Start a PhD at the University of Chicago in their Department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations, focusing on Bronze Age Mesopotamian Archaeology. He'll study cuneiform, Sumerian, Babylonian and maybe dabble in Akkadian. There may be some digging in the dirt involved. I'm not sure exactly where fighting Nazis and learning to wield a whip fall in the curriculum.
2022: Dear God, hopefully he'll be done with this PhD by now.

Soon, Sam will be reading these things

My plans aren't quite as focused, but here's what I've got so far:
July 16: Finish my Peace Corps service and head out on a 2-week solo trip to Helsinki, Finland; Tallinn and Parnu, Estonia; Riga, Latvia; Vilnius, Lithuania; and Warsaw, Poland.

I'm hoping Tallinn is warmer this time around (all though, to be fair, February wasn't the best time to visit. On the other hand, Tallinn was a whole heck of a lot warmer in February than St. Petersburg was, so it made sense to go then)

July 27-ish: Meet up with Sam in Vienna. Eat some (ok, lots of) Sacher torte.

This year, I won't just order one piece

August 4-8: Copenhagen
August 8-17: Iceland. Try to resist the urge to smuggle home any pufflings.
August 17: Arrive in Washington at 7pm. Drink some beer and eat some Chipotle.
August 17-September 15-ish: Visit family and friends and eat. And eat. And eat.
September 15-ish: Move to Chicago. Hopefully find some employment.
November 3: Run a marathon in Indianapolis. 'Cause, why not?

Will they make t-shirts for this one? Is the pope Catholic?

So that's what we've got right now. If anyone has any other suggestions, give us a shout. And if anyone has any meaningful, productive employment in the Chicago area that they might want to offer to a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, let me know.

Why?

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia The Lyon Tales

2012-05-16 08:45:00

Before I left the USA Peace Corps wanted a full medical checkup. So, I was going back and forth to the doctor’s office. It’s interesting that despite all my albinism, nystagmus, extra wisdom teeth, and ADHD my medical clearance only took a few weeks. Definitely NOT the norm for most Volunteers—it takes up to a year in many cases. Then again, I told them in my interview to put me on a plane and just let me go now. I digress. In one of my doctor’s appointments the nurse who was about to give me a half-dozen shots asks me what this was all about. This was the conversation:

Nurse: “So, why do you need all these tests and shots?”

Tom: “Well, I’m applying to the Peace Corps.”

Nurse: Strange look and a raised eyebrow “You know they get sent to the middle of nowhere, right?”

Tom: “Yep, that’s what I want.”

Nurse: “Why?”

At this point I probably gave my awkward *shrug* that I do when I don’t want someone to talk to me anymore. I didn’t really think completely about the “Why?” I was content just knowing I was f’in leaving New Jersey and not facing another hard year of school interviews and being let down by a shitty job market (“shitty” is a Microsoft Word recognized word, by the way).

Here in Georgia I get asked this question a lot, too. “Why did you come here? We are poor and don’t have anything? Why would you leave a rich country like America and come to poor Georgia?” I mean or some variation of the question. I usually just say how great Georgia is, and how the people are so nice, and I just came to help. I usually just get a strange look and a shrug, then they get fed up with my poor language skills and switch back to the simple questions like: “Do you like to drink wine or tchatcha [jet fuel]?”

I haven’t focused enough on the “Why?” If you asked my older brother “Why?” he’d probably give you a spiel about protecting the things you love (maybe me?), protecting those who cannot protect themselves (me), and the strong defending the weak (me again). In a way, I joined Peace Corps with the same attitude, but after a few months in Georgia I realize I’m not protecting or serving anyone (quite literally the women try to do everything for me). I never thought too seriously about the three simple Peace Corps goals:

1) Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.

2) Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.

3) Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

Well, hell, I look at these goals and I actually feel pretty good. The first goal I touched on the lightest, in my opinion. I didn’t do as much in school as I would have liked, but between FLEX, my fitness center, and numerous smaller projects I feel pretty good. Goal 2 I really let fly, maybe to an extreme amount. My host mother loves to brag that she has had over 12 Americans, 1 Pole, 2 Chinese, 1 Ukrainian, 1 Iranian, and numerous other nationalities come through her house. I’ve certainly tried to show my host family, and all of Keda the diversity of America, and our values and beliefs. All of Keda knows I do my own laundry, clean my own room, and am an independent person mostly. Goal three I’ve tried to demonstrate as well as possible in my blog and in personal conversations with friends and family. It’s harder, but it makes me really excited to be a teacher and talk to my students about my experiences in Peace Corps, and about Georgia itself. Heck, maybe I’ll have a supra in one of my classes—don’t worry we’ll replace the wine/tchatcha with water or apple juice. But, the traditions in Georgia are centuries old, and deserve their place in a World History class alongside European, Chinese, or American history.

So, why did I do it? I did it for me. I did it for people I didn’t know. They didn’t NEED me, or even WANT me, but they [mostly] appreciated my presence and caring. I had a discussion with a Georgian guy the other day who was talking about China becoming the next world’s superpower and overtaking America. He added the one caveat, though. “Americans are coming to Georgia to help Georgians with little or no benefit to themselves (he’s talking about TLG and Peace Corps). Other countries are coming to Georgia to only make money.” I had this exact discussion with my friends in Tbilisi last weekend. Peace Corps is a resource drain on the American economy. Not just in the federal budget, but also in the working man hours all 8,000 Volunteers worldwide could contribute. Peace Corps is truly a selfless organization (not perfect), and all of us here gave up parts of ourselves and our time for other people we didn’t know.

I think that’s what really makes America special. We aren’t a perfect country, but there are thousands of us who will willingly put ourselves out there for the common good. I just hope that nurse out there is reading this (she isn’t)

This post is a little difficult to follow, but thanks for reading.

An Average Day of PST

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2012-05-15 16:48:22

During my first eleven weeks in the Peace Corps, I am not an official volunteer, but rather a trainee. In order to become a volunteer, I must complete the rigorous pre-service training (PST). So far, PST has been challenging and the days are long and exhausting, but I love it. To give you an idea … Continue reading »

Surprise!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia seanandmckinze.com

2012-05-14 14:52:25

We’re in America! We’re succeeded in surprising (or, more accurately, totally shocking) both our mothers, which has been really fun. …

Perth: Roos, Beer, & Freo

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2011-11-09 12:03:06

Hello from Oz! After almost two months of eating rice and noodles, treating toilet paper as a luxury, and getting eaten alive by mosquitos all over Asia, it’s nice to be back in a “western” country. Stacy and I arrived in Perth late Monday night and were picked up by our gracious host, Lorraine, Stacy’s … Continue reading »

Perth: Rottnest Island

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2011-11-10 14:15:14

Today we ventured to Rottnest Island, a popular day-trip and short vacation island for the people of Perth. We drove to Fremantle early this morning and then took the Mega Blast boat, which was basically like a speed boat, to Rotto in 30 minutes. The highlight of the ride was seeing dolphins as we left … Continue reading »

Perth: Swan Valley

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2011-11-11 15:12:06

Today we had a big day out for our last full day on the west coast. Stacy and I went along with Lorraine (our host) and a group of her friends to Swan Valley, the winery area in Perth. Lorraine’s dad has a driving service, so we even toured the valley in style– in an … Continue reading »

Back in Sydney

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2011-11-15 07:23:12

On Saturday, Stacy and I left Perth and flew to one of my favorite cities: Sydney. I only left about two years ago after studying here for five months and it feels good to be back again. We’re staying with my family friends, the Lorgians, and like Perth, it’s nice to be in a home … Continue reading »

Final Days In Sydney

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2011-11-18 08:29:37

After two months of traveling, our journey is finally drawing to a close. We’ve had a great last few days in Sydney taking in the city sites and hanging out in the northern suburbs. On Wednesday we went into the city and began our day at Darling Harbour, the city’s newest harbor. From there, we … Continue reading »

From Georgia to Georgia

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2012-04-23 22:27:05

After spending the fall climbing the Great Wall, swimming in Halong Bay, watching the sunrise at Angkor Wat, washing elephants in the river, going on more harrowing bike rides on dirt roads than I would like to remember, feeding quokkas, and seeing the Sydney Harbour Bridge once again, life has been nothing out of the … Continue reading »

My Life in 100 Pounds or Less

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2012-04-28 12:35:33

Growing up travelling all the time, one would think I would have the packing thing down by now. I do, to some extent, but the problem is that I love fashion and trying new and different outfits. This generally leads to overpacking as I throw in items that I think I may wear, but don’t … Continue reading »

Peace Corps Prep By The Numbers

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2012-04-30 10:25:03

I’m off to Philly today to meet my fellow G12s and participate in staging, the Peace Corps’s pre-departure orientation. And then tomorrow we finally leave for Georgia! The past two weeks have comprised of length to-do lists, spending quality time with some of my favorite people, eating and doing every thing that I’ll miss for the … Continue reading »

Gamarjoba!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2012-05-04 14:26:51

Gamarjoba! I am here safely in Georgia after pre-departure orientation in Philadelphia, a very long travel day, and several days of training outside of Tbilisi. Upon the new Peace Corps group’s arrival at the Tbilisi airpot, we were greeted by current PCVs and whisked away to an area roped off by the media. We were … Continue reading »

Ruispiri

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia brittanyinwanderlust

2012-05-13 17:43:16

Until mid-July, when I become an official Peace Corps volunteer, I am living in the small village of Ruispiri. A few kilometers to the west of the city of Telavi, Ruispiri is a quiet farming village. It’s one of those towns where everyone knows everyone and people on the street will identify me not by … Continue reading »

Substitution

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia The Lyon Tales

2012-05-13 17:56:00

There's a vulture perching right offscreen

It's bitter and whispers chaotic things

And the weeps turn quick into bullying

It's so easy to see everyone can agree stop listening

I know you've heard it before

But then it wasn't enough

You don't want to be held back from the substitution

I know you've seen this before

And now enough is too much

You don't want to be set back when the substitution comes

I'm sorry

You're a marionette in the center of

The twisting of strings coming from above

It may seem too deep to recover from

It's so easy to see everyone can agree just let it go

I know you've heard it before

But then it wasn't enough

You don't want to be held back from the substitution

I know you've seen this before

And now enough is too much

You don't want to be set back when the substitution comes

I'm sorry

When the voices start spitting just be aware

I've brought enough stones for us to share

That one's grinning that one's burning aim for the throat

Let em choke on the stones that we have to throw

It's the great downfall

The big overthrow

If we shoot them down

It'll make you soar

When reactions turn into hurricanes

And the middle ground feels a little tame

Whether full or empty it's all the same

It's so easy to see everyone can agree you're not to blame

I know you've heard it before

But then it wasn't enough

You don't want to be held back from the substitution

I know you've seen this before

And now enough is too much

You don't want to be set back when the substitution comes

I'm sorry

the sweetest things

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia all of the bells

2012-05-13 13:36:34

For just a few weeks every spring we have strawberries here in Georgia. They’re the most delicate things and you have to be careful not to smoosh them while rinsing them. And they’re so sweet. No sugar needed. They remind me of … Continue reading →

Alive

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Alex's Adventures

2012-05-13 10:22:00

Just dropping a note to let you all know I am alive. I have been taking picture but I do not have time to post them now (sorry, Liz). All is well. My host family ran into unforeseen circumstances so I will be moving into a new one today. No worries, it happens. The language is slowly (and not always surely) coming along. My old host family is great and I expect the same will happen with my new one. PST is still really intense (as all of us PCTs[Peace Corps Trainees] will agree). I get overwhelmed from time to time but I'm surviving. Met a lot of great people (American and Georgian). The food is great. I live near mountains and surrounded by farm animals. Already had many awkward moments where nothing but hand signals and a few Georgian words were used to get my ideas across. Hopefully it won't have to stay like that.

I only get one day off so don't expect much from me unless it is on Sundays. And even then, everything is iffy. Only 10 more weeks to go before I become a REAL volunteer (hopefully).

State of the Union Address: Speech by President Clinton (1995)

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia YouTube Videos matching query: "peace corps" "Georgia"&search_sort=video_date_uploaded

2012-05-12 14:26:46

	State of the Union Address: Speech by President Clinton (1995) thefilmarchive.org The 1995 State of the Union address was given by President Bill Clinton to a joint session of the 104th United States Congress on January 24, 1995. This was the first speech delivered to a Republican-controlled Congress since 1954. This was also the first time a Republican Speaker sat in the chair since 1954. The Speaker was Newt Gingrich of Georgia. The president discussed his proposals of a New Covenant vision for a smaller government and proposing tax reductions. The president also discussed crime, the Brady Bill and the Assault Weapons Ban, illegal immigration, and the minimum wage. Regarding foreign policy, he urged assistance in Mexico's economic crisis, additional disarmament in cooperation with Russia and other international treaties, stopping North Korea's nuclear weapons program, legislation to fight terrorists, and peace between Israel and its neighbors. Discussion of the failed attempt to overhaul health care was refocused on more limited efforts to protect coverage for those who have health insurance and expand coverage for children. The speech lasted nearly 1 hour and 25 minutes and consisted of 9190 words. In terms of word count it is the longest State of the Union speech in history. The president acknowledged many Americans of past and present in his speech. Among them were: Newt Gingrich, the new Speaker of the House Ronald Reagan, who similarly had been president while Congress was controlled by the opposing party; also in the past <b>...</b>	From: thefilmarchived Views: 34 2 ratings
	Time: 01:22:52	More in Education

Go West

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Go Kartli

2012-05-12 07:33:00

Wednesday, May 9 was a holiday here in Georgia, so we got the day off from school. (It's Victory Day for Soviets, but I learned it as being Victory in Europe Day in my high school history class.) Sam and I wanted to make one more trip together out to the west of Georgia before he heads off (our next post will be all about next steps), and we each only have a few classes on Mondays and Tuesdays, so we made a loooooong weekend out, leaving for Kutaisi (our third trip to the city) on Friday after school. We spent Friday evening and Saturday tooling around the city, loving the warm weather and green everywhere. We stayed with another PCV, Tami. She's only been in Kutaisi for a year, and Kutaisi is the second largest city in Georgia, but it seemed like every 2 minutes she ran into another person that she knows. She's obviously been a winner at integrating into her community and doing all the great things that PCVs are expected (and hoped) to do!

There's an impressive new fountain in Kutaisi that was opened for Kutaisoba

An old Kutaisi movie theater, apparently celebrated as the birthplace of Georgian cinema

Me, a new Kutaisi statue, Tami and Caitlin

On Saturday morning the weather was so beautiful that we decided to go out to the Motsameta Monastery just outside of Kutaisi and walk around and soak up some more greenery. When we visited a neighboring monastery last year (Gelati), there were hiking trails that purported to lead between the two monasteries. We were hoping to find the trail pick up from the Motsameta side, but had no luck. Regardless, we walked in the woods some, saw a wedding party entering Motsameta and had a really nice time overall.

Me and Sam enjoying the beautiful weather and green scenery at Motsameta Monastery near Kutaisi

Motsameta

The view from the Monastery

On Saturday night we hopped a marshrutka for a village, Dimi, about 30 minutes from Kutaisi to stay with another PCV, Caitlin (she's up in the picture above). Caitlin came to visit Sam and me in March because she'd been itching to start a fitness club for girls at her site since arriving, but faced some challenges and wasn't quite sure how to attack the project. While she was in Akhalkalaki, she came to my fitness club and picked my brain about how we worked things out here, which helped her to get back to Dimi and start her own club. On Sunday, I got to go with her to her club's meeting, where 8 girls from her 8th and 9th grade classes showed up to jump, run, do sit ups and push ups, and just have a good time while exercising. Caitlin has done a fantastic job and walking around her village it was clear that she's had a huge impact there already, too.

A beautiful spot just near Caitlin's host family's house in Dimi

Dimi

Dimi's summer hot spot, the river (Caitlin is a former college swimmer and lifeguard, so her community definitely benefits from having her there in the summer!)

On Monday, our hooky day, we left the Kutaisi region behind to head to the coast. We arrived in Batumi on a foggy, drizzly mid-morning, found our hotel and did the only sensible thing one can do when arriving into Adjara.

First things first in Batumi: eating an Adjaruli khachapuri

After surviving the cholesterol bomb that is an Adjaruli khachapuri (but seriously, these things are delicious--just don't eat more than one a year), we went walking around to burn off a fraction of the butter-cheese-egg-dough goodness. A lot has changed in Batumi since we've been in Georgia, and a lot is still under construction, so we saw a lot of new things or things previously obscured by torn up roads or scaffolding. Sam said (and I think he's right) that it'll be interesting to come back to Batumi in another 2-3 years and see what the city looks like then.

We wandered through the "zoo" and past the biting zebras

Then we spent too much time with Sam being freaked out by the pelican...

...which is understandable, because look at those soul-stealing eyes! Gaaaaaghhh!

In the museum of Adjara we wished they had a gift shop with the old town flags

Every time Sam sees or thinks of something that would have made our wedding better he says we need to have a second wedding. So far, our second wedding will include an accordian, Elvis Costello, Chipotle catering and these outfits.

Cool, weird new building in Batumi. Looks like it's either plotting world takeover, or belongs on the MIT campus

Beautiful Batumi

On Tuesday, we had plans to continue our travels into mountainous Adjara, but we managed to sneak in a visit to Gonio, a town just a few kilometers from Batumi that boasts an old fortress. I'm so glad we made it, because it was definitely worth the trip. (Mom, Dad and MaryBeth--I'm sorry we didn't take you here when you came to visit! When you come back to Georgia, you can be sure to go.)

Gonio fortress, outside of Batumi

Sam, looking at archaeology

Fortress ruins

Pipes!

Fortress walls

What's a Georgian ruin without some old wine vats?

I'm hoping Sam can one day find a little clay cross-eyed dude, too!

Little castle crawl space

After a quick turn-around in Batumi, we loaded back onto a marshrutka and headed up away from the sea and into the mountains. Our first stop along the road was a village called Makhuntseti, where a PCV from our group, Jen, lives. Jen has set the bar high on community integration--she recently got married to a Georgian man she met from her village! They're a wonderful couple and have a fantastic plan--they'll be heading to America when Jen wraps up her service (his immigrant visa paperwork just came through yesterday, on Jen's birthday--that'd be a tough present to top!), and have said they want to spend 2 years in America so they're on equal footing, then they'll make a decision about where they want to live, in Georgia or America.

In Makhuntseti, in addition to seeing Jen again, we wanted to see the big attractions, which understandably draw tour buses. First, there's the waterfall. Now we've heard some stories here and there in Georgia about places having incredible waterfalls and then shown up to find a little trickle. This waterfall was impressive, though, and Jen says it's a godsend in the hot, humid summers, since it's always cool and nice sitting by the bottom of the falls. The other big site is a reconstructed stone arch bridge, that's really beautiful. Jen says it scares her in the summers because kids jump off the bridge into the river and the men like to have some evening wine drinking on the far side of the bridge, walking home across it after imbibing.

Makhuntseti waterfall

This was a serious waterfall, and none of my pictures seem to do it justice!

Makhuntseti bridge--guardrails are for wimps

After too-short a time catching up with Jen, Sam and I piled back onto a marshrutka to head a little further up the mountain to the next town of Keda. Tom, another PCV from our group, has just finished one of the biggest-scale projects our group has attempted. He raised funds and built a fitness facility at the local sports school for folks in his community to use. Cooler still, he's convinced the facility's manager to dedicate two nights a week for use for women only. Tom, being a male volunteer, asked me to come to run a training for the women on the benefits and importance of exercise. I held the training on Tuesday evening for 13 women and girls, discussing exercise and health and showing the group 10 exercises they can do at home with no equipment on days when they can't make it to the fitness center. I think it went really well, and I loved the community. Tom's hard work and dedication have really paid off and energized people in Keda, which was really great to see.

Keda was another really pretty Adjaran town

Wednesday morning came too quickly, and we had a long road ahead of us--a 1 hour marshrutka ride from Keda back to Batumi and a quick change to another bus for a 6-hour marshrutka ride to Akhaltsikhe, followed by one more quick change to a third and final marshrutka for our last hour-and-a-half ride back to Akhalkalaki. It was a tiring way to finish up our journey, and we'd had a busy couple of days, but it was a trip well worth the efforts. I have been, and continue to be, absolutely impressed and amazed by my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, and was excited and proud to be able to see their sites and projects and help out a little.

Lately

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia seanandmckinze.com

2012-05-10 12:12:12

We had the third of our NGO training series last Wednesday, this one on marketing organizations to donors and stakeholders. …

Another Leaving Post

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia The Lyon Tales

2012-05-09 11:22:00

I have a month left in Peace Corps. ONE MONTH. It’s a surreal experience to think about where I came from and how I ended up here. I’ve thought about everything I’ve done in the two years I’ve been here. I am thinking about the G12 group that arrived last week; they are in the beginning of pre-service training (PST). I remember my first week of PST. I didn’t completely understand the rules and went to visit other trainees in a neighboring village without notifying my coordinator. I got caught and feared for my future in Peace Corps. I honestly thought they’d kick me out then. They didn’t. I signed some form and then went back to normal. I remember being terrified, though. Ever since then I’ve followed every Peace Corps protocol about informing them of my whereabouts. I swear I’m not a trouble maker!!!

Then of course I think about the things I thought were important in my life two years ago. I think about how I didn’t have anything to really be proud of. Sure, I had a Masters in Teaching, but no job. I really didn’t do well in my undergraduate studies, and I felt my life just passing me by. The two years in Georgia gave me a lot of perspective on my life and future. I’ve thought more about caring for other people and doing things that don’t give me any direct benefit. For example, my host mother came to me today and told me that she had an argument with another person who didn’t believe I designed the fitness center. At one point in my life I’d be offended and hurt; I would have needed the external recognition to know I did a good job. Not anymore. Now, I’ve received plenty of external recognition; from Peace Corps, other Volunteers, a Peace Corps newsletter, community members, family, and the local government. But, it doesn’t mean as much as the happiness and pride I feel from within. I know I did it, and I know it’s a great project. That one community member may not know I made the fitness center happen, but she still uses it, and that’s all that really matters.

Two Volunteers, a married couple, came to Keda yesterday to conduct a fitness training. The girl is one of our groups most accomplished Volunteers. She organized Volunteers in the past to do activities across the country. Plus, she is a very physically active person, and knows her stuff. I think 13-15 women showed up, and apparently it went “swimmingly”. My host mother went and really loved it, and this morning after the Volunteers left, a guest came over and asked if she could come back today. It was great having her come, because I would not have been able to lead a fitness and healthy lifestyles training with women. They wouldn’t ask me the important questions. They wouldn’t feel comfortable with my presence.

Back to me leaving…

The relationships I’ve formed in the past year have also meant a lot to me. I’ve made a lot of great friends here. I got a call from a friend who got Fulbright in Indonesia a few weeks ago. She called at 1AM and goes, “Tom, wake up! I’m going to Indonesia! You’re the first person I’m telling after my boyfriend, because we’re best friends.” Then my other friend is going to Russia on a State Department program. I mean, we’re all going places here. We’ve all accomplished so much, and we’ve trudged through the same frustrations together. We’ve experienced the same winters, and have all been through similar marshutka experiences (I have not been thrown-up on in a marshutka yet, knock on wood).

It’s not just the other PCVs I’ve made friendships with. There are plenty of Georgians that I will continue talking with and remember forever. From my host family, my counterparts, and my personal relationships, I will remember them; as they will remember me. I have a bit of a reputation in Keda now, and most won’t forget me anytime soon. I could come back to Keda in 5-years or 10-years and walk off the marshutka and people would stare at me just the same, but they will know who I am.

I’ve been writing a lot recently about my nearing departure. What I really need to think about now is trying to find a job when I get home. If any of you reading this has an open position for a CEAS secondary education social studies teacher please contact meJ. I’d really appreciate it. I’ll write more on that later, though.

Mike's visit

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia The Road is Life

2012-05-08 19:42:00

While all of this supra-ing was going on last week, my friend Mike came to visit me in Georgia. He's currently living in Ukraine and had already been to Georgia, but not village style, so he came over for a few days. We haven't seen each other in almost 3 years, so hopefully we can meet up again in a less random spot! While he was here, we spent the weekend in my village, went to Kamran's supra, spent the next day (miraculously NOT hungover) picnicking on the river that goes thru my valley, and then headed into Tbilisi to spend a day in Gori and see the Stalin museum before he went off to Batumi to catch a boat home.

some men waiting to be fed

Kamran's host uncle who takes pushy host to a new ultimate level

prom pose

Kamran's direcor's son

The table is almost ready

Dato showing us his proud work

Mike and I

pouring the wine - a designated and important role

Danielle and I went thru four plates of olives, all stacked here for proof.

Gela and Mariana

Zura and Dato

______________________________________________

Also, funny story: I like to make fun of Mike for telling bad stories, and repeating them to me years on. he tried to tell my host sister Nino one about George Washington. Without even getting two sentences in, she interupted him with "I don't care, stop talking!" Nino earned major cool points.

Tina fishing. She caught a fish about 3 inches long. Besides that the water was too muddy for anything

meanwhile Mike was off catching lizards

and Inga was busy cooking up some Mtsvadi (pork bbq with onions)

eating!

me and Mike

Nino, me and Inga

family portrait Georgian style

more laughing at Mike

waiting to hitch-ike back to the village on the bridge

Next up was Tbilisi - we climbed up on the fortress and got some good pictures and also walked around a nice little park near Old Town. The next day we headed to Gori, the birthplace of Stalin and the point at which the Russians invaded, so I needed special permission to go in for the day. The Stalin museum just announced that they are going through a renovation of the entire museum, because up to now, it has remained largely the same since Beria, one of the other members of the Soviet politburo, founded the museum in honor of Stalin way back when. The new museum will address more of his atrocities. (Interestingly too, when telling Georgians I was heading to the museum, most seemed to like the guy - he was often cited as a genius who had to do what he had to do, it's not like he killed people while trying to take over the world like Hitler, right?) The museum was mostly just random photographs of the guy with kids: Stalin at the Future Husbandry Workers meeting, Stalin at the Future Tractor Drivers' Meeting, Stalin at the Future Steel Mill workers' meeting, you know, the usual meetings you went to as a kid. They also had his house under another building, and the train car which he used to travel around in. The problem there, though, was that they only had one key to each place, so we were lucky enough to chat up a guy who worked there while passing through, and he turned out to be the beholder of the elusive key, so we got a private tour of each.

me in front of his train car. I had heard a rumor it was also the car Nicholas II used with his family and was excited to see it, but I was told it wasn't true. Oh well.

Stalin was kind of a hottie back in the day.

I need to get me one of these. A lamp, complete with tassels, golden tank, ashtray, clock, secret lock box, and it's probably magical too. It's smart they have it in a protective case, I bet everyone wants it. I'm being totally serious, though, no sarcasm. I want one.

Stalin with the Future Leaders of Something Something

his house. within a house.

And to finish off today's photograph extravaganza, I give you Tbilisi at Night

This is Matchakhela, Samekitno, and Jaffa, all chain restaurants here, in one 24 hour place. cheap food, good beer, and hummus. I kind of love it here.

Peace Bridge


walking up to the fortress

And, if that wasn't enough pictures for you, check more out here

a catophony

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Saint Facetious

2012-05-08 08:38:00

I keep on abiding and waiting. I should never have expected her to come immediately running back to me, dropping everything, simply because I came back. I had told her to move on when I left and I shouldn't have been so surprised that she was busy moving on; I had been trying to move on as well but I had failed miserably at it. While crossing the Continent, my mind always drifted back to her. I could have gone the part of my for-a-while travel companion, who wanted to just shag a few girls in every city, but I opted against it, since I was still – with no explanation – reserving feeling for my dearest love. I couldn't get over her. She was too great a companion, too fierce a character, too amazing a woman. And now I came back so quickly, as such a surprise to her. I waited for her for six months, though she didn't know it, what is another month or two of waiting? She is worth it. If waiting one minute earns me six minutes with her in the future, then that one minute is worth it. But one minute without her is like an eternity of fire – it's a trial, but it's a price I'm willing to accept and I've come to terms with this. So I sit and wait, sit and wait, looking at the phone and constantly reminding myself that she needs time. I can't just jump back into where we were. And though, I've always had this uncanny ability to pick up with old friends like I had never left, I have to remember that not everyone has this ability.

I found a job through my friend Tom and an elusive sms he had sent me one day. “How would you like to make some money?” Outside of emails from Nigeria, the question is often a welcome one. So I took the bait. He helped me find an English language teaching school not too far from where I lived. “I've gotten too busy with my current job,” Tom explained to me while we were sitting at a beer garden, “so I had to give up teaching at the school and am looking for a replacement.” I became the replacement.

When I have attentive students who are in class to learn, I enjoy teaching. It's been one of my favorite professions. I've never made a load of money from it – though by Georgian standards, I'm now making a load of money from it – but it's been infinitely more pleasurable than doing series of statistical analyses at a desk for which I was making a load of money. It was a good opportunity for me to ease the pain on my bank account of living here – now there's no pain on my bank account – and even better, it would help my patience, since now I'd have something to keep me distracted from my thoughts that would always wander inevitably to my love.

Even more interesting to me though was the mile and a half path I had to take to get to my new office. I walked down from on top of a hill, past the zoo, then back up past a McDonald's to the office. Where the path neared the zoo, it lifted up and gave a fantastic cat's eye view of the big cats and bears. I've been making it a habit to start walking to work early so that I can just stand at the rail and zone off, watching the beasts pace back and forth. The enclosures were small and littered with what appeared to be left over material from construction sites – giant concrete slabs of different shapes that only augmented the misery of the animal's existence. But at least they paired the animals with mates, as I discovered one day while watching two brown bears humping for about thirty minutes. An interesting scene, since the female bear seemed completely uninterested in what was happening and kept trying to saunter off.

This wasn't the only love in the air in Tbilisi now. Outside my window, there's a forested hillside, where there must be a hundred cats living from the sound of it at night. Once the sun sets every day, a loud cacophony of cats – a catophony – begins. Shrieking and wailing rise up in the wind, as female felines moan and beg to be mounted by their male counterparts, who pace back and forth pretending to be big cats but not locked in small concrete cages. I wouldn't mind a bit of kitty love going on outside, but really, did they have to be so loud? What was really interesting though, is that life in Georgia, even in a city as dense as Tbilisi, has never led me to hear humans being so loud. Yet back in Denver, once evening set, people were doing it like they do it on the Discovery Channel, moans echoing down every alleyway one walked past.

a catophony

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Georgia Saint Facetious

2012-05-08 08:38:00