I can't decide if this is a good idea or not: I want to take the metal detector (which has mysteriously been sitting on top of my wardrobe since I got here) to the outskirts of my site where all the buildings are crumbled piles of bricks with perhaps a stray cement foundation pillar or two still standing, and I want to search for old Soviet crap and perhaps metal detritus from the war with Abkhazia. Pro: old Soviet stuff and metal detritus from the war with Abkhazia would be incredibly interesting to find, and they have it out the wazoo here. Con: The war with Abkhazia was just under 15 years ago, and I wonder if that's too short an elapsed time for me to go poking around a former war zone. I'm not actually sure that the buildings crumbled as a result of the war... buildings usually crumble here because of their high-quality Soviet contruction. Maybe that's it, though I have the same feeling in my stomach now that I had when I realized my friend was really offended that I'd told him he smelled like a marshrutka (turns out it was onions in the kitchen), so perhaps it's a horrid idea and I should be ashamed at contemplating such grave robbery.
Mom wants me to skedaddle back to America for her graduation in August. While I am obviously in favor of this-- especially since the fake itinerary I've drawn up puts me in Maryland for Dad's annual pig roast-- I am also obviously broke. And why shouldn't I be? I'm the one who chose to volunteer for almost 2 1/2 years when I could have been making minimum-wage CA$H in the US. To my precious friends and family: do any of you have any frequent flier miles that are about to expire? Do frequent flier miles even work that way? In any case, I'm checking out whatever options I can along that front and am open to ideas that don't involve embezzlement of development grant money.
Speaking of grant money, Writing Olympics got funded! Huzzah! Sitemate Ian and I set the contest dates for our town, so now all that's left is to pester the rest of the volunteers until the March 30th deadline (if you're a volunteer reading this, are YOU doing Writing Olympics? Why or why not?). There's some pretty sweet prizes involved for the winners... framed certificates, English books, pens, notebooks, a backpack for the Best of the Caucuses winner. And we're gonna have the winners' essays compiled into a little book again, though there's one wrench in that gear: the tension between Azerbaijan and Armenia. Last year, they had to make two versions of the book since the host country nationals didn't want the children's essays from Azerbaijan to touch the Armenian essays and vice versa. Maybe we'll just make the one version this year, where the essays are separated by country rather than by grade (the latter being the sensible format).
Another thing I can't decide: whether I'm being culturally insensitive by finding the publication problems maddening. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, IT'S A BOOK OF ESSAYS WRITTEN BY CHILDREN!!! Then again, it's easy for me as an American-- citizen of a heterogenous state with no historical nationality-- to see conflicts of ethnic nationalism as petty. Can I picture myself as a citizen of a smaller country, fighting violently against a neighboring country that'd just as soon wipe my country from existence, and then some ignorant, arrogant chick from the world's hegemon waltzes over and rolls her eyes at hundreds of years of history? Sorry, despite trying my best to write that second POV from the perspective of an Armenian or Azeri, it's still not convincing. Even to me.
Maybe this distaste for the mechanisms behind ethnic conflict is what leads me to disagree so vehemently with crackpot writer Gary Kah. Check out his theories on how Satan is using New Agers and Freemasons in a global conspiracy to create a One-World Government at http://www.garykah.org (he knows! he was in Who's Who in the Midwest!).
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Welcome to the Neighborhood
I’ve found the definition of masochism: a Peace Corps volunteer who’s had a carrot for breakfast, sitting down between classes to reformat an Applebee’s menu she downloaded from the internet. Naturally, it’s for class usage and thus serves some purpose, but never have I ever in my entire life wished that there were more Applebee’s in the world. Until today.
Warning: the next section should not be read by other volunteers.
Since I’ve got the menu right here, how about a sampling of the prime offenders? Mmm… sampler…
Nachos Nuevos Crispy red, blue & yellow corn chips topped with spicy ground beef, black beans & melted cheese. Topped with sour cream, fresh tomato & jalapeсo 11.49
Fried Chicken Salad Bite size chicken fingers atop mixed greens with cheddar, diced tomatoes & eggs. Served with honey mustard dressing & toasted garlic bread 11.29
Honey Grilled Salmon Flame grilled Atlantic salmon glazed with Applebee's honey pepper sauce & served with almond rice pilaf, seasonal vegetables & garlic toast. Served grilled as well - without the honey sauce 17.49
Bacon Cheese Chicken Grill Sandwich An 8 oz. boneless marinated chicken breast grilled with bacon & cheddar cheese. Served on a toasted sesame seed bun 11.49
So that’s my hell for today. The funny thing is that I considered Applebee’s to be quite the mediocre establishment before I left. Maybe it’s because they were everywhere, or because despite their claims to be part of the neighborhood, they all looked the same inside, save for different local school colors. Is that really what I miss about America? Consumerism? Assembly-line production? Pandering, middle-of-the-road options disguised as innovation?
YES.
Warning: the next section should not be read by other volunteers.
Since I’ve got the menu right here, how about a sampling of the prime offenders? Mmm… sampler…
Nachos Nuevos Crispy red, blue & yellow corn chips topped with spicy ground beef, black beans & melted cheese. Topped with sour cream, fresh tomato & jalapeсo 11.49
Fried Chicken Salad Bite size chicken fingers atop mixed greens with cheddar, diced tomatoes & eggs. Served with honey mustard dressing & toasted garlic bread 11.29
Honey Grilled Salmon Flame grilled Atlantic salmon glazed with Applebee's honey pepper sauce & served with almond rice pilaf, seasonal vegetables & garlic toast. Served grilled as well - without the honey sauce 17.49
Bacon Cheese Chicken Grill Sandwich An 8 oz. boneless marinated chicken breast grilled with bacon & cheddar cheese. Served on a toasted sesame seed bun 11.49
So that’s my hell for today. The funny thing is that I considered Applebee’s to be quite the mediocre establishment before I left. Maybe it’s because they were everywhere, or because despite their claims to be part of the neighborhood, they all looked the same inside, save for different local school colors. Is that really what I miss about America? Consumerism? Assembly-line production? Pandering, middle-of-the-road options disguised as innovation?
YES.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Borat vs. Georgia
First, this was going to be a comparative essay on Borat versus the reality of living in central Asia. In the process of writing that, the introduction became a rant against a certain humorless, ill-tempered placement officer who made my early Peace Corps experience a nightmare and who should be fired or at least have his/her house egged. Neither of those would likely garner the favor of my dear employer, the US government, so nix and nix. Actually, though, I can write a little bit about Borat anyway since I’m such a rebel.
Borat vs. Georgia
Being a –stan country:
Kazakhstan, obviously one of the –stans that many people have trouble placing on the map. I’ll admit, although they’re just a quick hop across the Caspian Sea, I probably still couldn’t tell you where most of them are. BUT did you know that the word for Georgia in Turkish is Gürjistan? So there you go, welcome to a –stan.
Technologique:
Borat seems rather pleased with his VCR and his radio alarm clock. You may notice in Georgia, however, that while there are many households with black-and-white televisions and tape players, the cell phones outstrip what most people have in the US. Why? I don’t know. Nor am I in favor of my 10th-form students’ possession of phones that can play the latest in Russian pop before, during, and after class. Just don’t be surprised if your host sister hands you her phone and asks you to type “Bruce Willis” into the Google search window she’s browsing.
Driving you crazy:
As another volunteer pointed out, some of Borat’s driving antics in the movie go unnoticed by PC Georgia viewers. He’s straddling two lanes? Oh, I didn’t notice. The speed limit has no bearing on how fast/slow he’s going? Well, why would it? There’s an 8-year-old chauffeur at the beginning of the movie? How else can he learn to drive without practice? I’ve seen two or three sources from travelers more experienced than I (read: everybody) who cite Georgian drivers as the worst in the world. I’ll readily believe that. When you spend most of the drive in the passing lane on a two-way road, diving back between correct-lane cars to hide from oncoming traffic, creating a third middle lane with the oodles of space left between the cars going in opposite directions, hitting the gas when idiot pedestrians think the road is for walking on… let’s move on.
Smoochy smoo, kissy-wissy:
Borat’s traditional Kazakh greeting elicits a stream of four-letter words from his fellow New York City straphangers, while most Americans engage in a battle between cultural sensitivity and instinct, slightly leaning away from him as he places a kiss on each cheek (and sometimes on the mouth). Good news for those of you with strict personal bubbles: Georgians only kiss one cheek! They don’t save it just for the same sex, either—host nationals will kiss everyone they meet. It’s a part of being tbili khalkhi (warm people). Some Georgians will—for the novelty of it—offer you a handshake, wearing the same smile of delight in cultural awareness as you will the first time you give a supra toast that’s more than two words long. Remember: while it’s not your fault that the Soviets told everyone in their sphere that Americans are cold people, you can go a long way to debunk that stereotype by getting used to the nice-to-see-you smooch.
Chicken tonight:
When the chicken got loose from Borat’s bag and started fluttering all over the subway, were you thinking of bird flu? Because I was. First off, yes, people carry chickens in bags… but how else can you get a chicken from the bazaar to your house? It might be a bit disconcerting to see some legs sticking out of a plastic bag and then to hear the bag clucking, but it does save you the sight of chickens getting slaughtered in the shops, rather than at home. Back to bird flu, though—there hasn’t actually been any bird flu here this year (and I don’t know if there was last year), but it is sitting there in the back of people’s minds, especially those people whose livelihoods depend on chickens. Glad to have sucked the humor out of that scene.
“I Do” optional:
You may have seen it coming from the time Borat described his cloth creation as a “marriage sack,” foreshadowing the part where he stuffs the sack over Pamela Anderson’s head and throws her over his shoulder to be his wife. Here comes another humor-killer: while it’s relatively rare compared to earlier times, bridenapping is still a problem in some parts of rural Georgia. Foreigners (and volunteers therein) aren’t really targeted, since a successful bridenapping depends on the eventual consent of the bride, who either tires of being holed up in a mountain shack or concludes that her family will not accept her back since they assume she’s being doing… things… with her bridenapper while sequestered. Terribly unfair? Of course. But there are some bright signs—firstly, the Georgian government prosecutes bridenappers as harshly as regular kidnappers these days. Secondly, there’s the changing attitude of young Georgians like my training host sister: “I would never say yes if I were bridenapped. I would break a window and run away.” Good for you, Lela. Good for you.
Ambiguity:
Borat’s mixed signals to the men he met in Washington led to some incidents he couldn’t quite explain to Alan Keyes. Let’s start it off this way: Georgian men are not a bunch of Borats, wearing short-shorts and walking around in the nude while so staunchly heterosexual that they’re shocked that other options exist. I will say this, though: it’s not abnormal here for men to hug and hold hands and walk with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders. In fact, it’s pretty normal.
Other countries have inferior potassium:
That was probably the best national anthem I’ve ever heard. For the Georgian equivalent of a proud mineral export, check out manganese (Mn), that neglected square on the periodic table that’s usually confused with magnesium (Mg). Proud little Chiatura in northern Georgia, formerly a Soviet model town, boasts a large concentration of manganese mines, as well as a manganese-filled black river, though when the Soviets fled, many of the mines and processing factories closed down. And they took down the glowing Lenin head from the cliff.
Your war of terror:
Borat supports our “war of terror,” he says, while wearing an American flag cowboy shirt. You know who else does? Georgia. This may be a completely inaccurate statistic, but I’ve been told that per capita, Georgia has the largest amount of troops in Iraq as part of the Iraqi Enduring Freedom Democracy Liberty Forever mission. American troops are stationed in parts of Georgia, too, to train the Georgian soldiers and to give them cool US uniforms to wear, and also to misbehave at expat bars.
Running of the Jew:
“Kazakhstan has some problems—economic, social, and Jew.” Oh Borat, you anti-Semite. You won’t find such a celebration of Jew-hating in Georgia (probably not either, I’d wager, in Kazakhstan). Did you know that before Israel existed, a large Jewish population used to live in Georgia, waiting around in the Caucasus for a space to open up in the Holy Land? You can still hear a synthesizer version of “Hava Nagela” played at many a Georgian supra. The last time I was at a supra where “Hava Nagela” was played, everyone formed a conga line, grabbing the shoulders of the person in front of them and jumping as a chain throughout the small apartment screaming “Hava Nagela” at the top of their lungs. It was one of those surreal moments that I keep meaning to write a blog post about.
Too much booty in the pants:
Remember when Borat is leaving for America and he starts dancing with his fellow villagers? That’s about the same. Minus the Running Man. Actually, Georgian dance is pretty cool-looking, and most of the culturally-educated Georgians know how to do it and will beg to teach you and/or laugh at your failed attempts. Side note: While Borat throws dice for fun, Georgian men tend toward backgammon. Hours and hours of backgammon.
Onward Christian soldiers:
Borat explains that their town has dropped the Running of the Jew due to its cruelty. “We’re Christians now,” he explains, walking by a group of villagers poking at a man on a cross with a pitchfork (best joke of the movie, IMO). But are they a bunch of Saint Johnny-come-latelies? Georgia was only the second nation to name Christianity as its official religion. They’re mostly Georgian Orthodox here, which leads to many holidays that you may not be familiar with. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why we make bean pastries on St. Barbara’s day, or why we celebrate Old New Year two weeks after Regular New Year, but I’m not sure my host family knows either, so give me a break.
So that’s it, your guide to the differences and similarities between the world of Borat and the Republic of Georgia. I hope I’ve made it culturally sensitive and positive enough that it can stay online long enough for all 10 people who read my blog to see, and all ya’ll best be good and enlightened now after all that typing.
P.S. Borat looks more like an East European than a Central Asian, FYI.
Borat vs. Georgia
Being a –stan country:
Kazakhstan, obviously one of the –stans that many people have trouble placing on the map. I’ll admit, although they’re just a quick hop across the Caspian Sea, I probably still couldn’t tell you where most of them are. BUT did you know that the word for Georgia in Turkish is Gürjistan? So there you go, welcome to a –stan.
Technologique:
Borat seems rather pleased with his VCR and his radio alarm clock. You may notice in Georgia, however, that while there are many households with black-and-white televisions and tape players, the cell phones outstrip what most people have in the US. Why? I don’t know. Nor am I in favor of my 10th-form students’ possession of phones that can play the latest in Russian pop before, during, and after class. Just don’t be surprised if your host sister hands you her phone and asks you to type “Bruce Willis” into the Google search window she’s browsing.
Driving you crazy:
As another volunteer pointed out, some of Borat’s driving antics in the movie go unnoticed by PC Georgia viewers. He’s straddling two lanes? Oh, I didn’t notice. The speed limit has no bearing on how fast/slow he’s going? Well, why would it? There’s an 8-year-old chauffeur at the beginning of the movie? How else can he learn to drive without practice? I’ve seen two or three sources from travelers more experienced than I (read: everybody) who cite Georgian drivers as the worst in the world. I’ll readily believe that. When you spend most of the drive in the passing lane on a two-way road, diving back between correct-lane cars to hide from oncoming traffic, creating a third middle lane with the oodles of space left between the cars going in opposite directions, hitting the gas when idiot pedestrians think the road is for walking on… let’s move on.
Smoochy smoo, kissy-wissy:
Borat’s traditional Kazakh greeting elicits a stream of four-letter words from his fellow New York City straphangers, while most Americans engage in a battle between cultural sensitivity and instinct, slightly leaning away from him as he places a kiss on each cheek (and sometimes on the mouth). Good news for those of you with strict personal bubbles: Georgians only kiss one cheek! They don’t save it just for the same sex, either—host nationals will kiss everyone they meet. It’s a part of being tbili khalkhi (warm people). Some Georgians will—for the novelty of it—offer you a handshake, wearing the same smile of delight in cultural awareness as you will the first time you give a supra toast that’s more than two words long. Remember: while it’s not your fault that the Soviets told everyone in their sphere that Americans are cold people, you can go a long way to debunk that stereotype by getting used to the nice-to-see-you smooch.
Chicken tonight:
When the chicken got loose from Borat’s bag and started fluttering all over the subway, were you thinking of bird flu? Because I was. First off, yes, people carry chickens in bags… but how else can you get a chicken from the bazaar to your house? It might be a bit disconcerting to see some legs sticking out of a plastic bag and then to hear the bag clucking, but it does save you the sight of chickens getting slaughtered in the shops, rather than at home. Back to bird flu, though—there hasn’t actually been any bird flu here this year (and I don’t know if there was last year), but it is sitting there in the back of people’s minds, especially those people whose livelihoods depend on chickens. Glad to have sucked the humor out of that scene.
“I Do” optional:
You may have seen it coming from the time Borat described his cloth creation as a “marriage sack,” foreshadowing the part where he stuffs the sack over Pamela Anderson’s head and throws her over his shoulder to be his wife. Here comes another humor-killer: while it’s relatively rare compared to earlier times, bridenapping is still a problem in some parts of rural Georgia. Foreigners (and volunteers therein) aren’t really targeted, since a successful bridenapping depends on the eventual consent of the bride, who either tires of being holed up in a mountain shack or concludes that her family will not accept her back since they assume she’s being doing… things… with her bridenapper while sequestered. Terribly unfair? Of course. But there are some bright signs—firstly, the Georgian government prosecutes bridenappers as harshly as regular kidnappers these days. Secondly, there’s the changing attitude of young Georgians like my training host sister: “I would never say yes if I were bridenapped. I would break a window and run away.” Good for you, Lela. Good for you.
Ambiguity:
Borat’s mixed signals to the men he met in Washington led to some incidents he couldn’t quite explain to Alan Keyes. Let’s start it off this way: Georgian men are not a bunch of Borats, wearing short-shorts and walking around in the nude while so staunchly heterosexual that they’re shocked that other options exist. I will say this, though: it’s not abnormal here for men to hug and hold hands and walk with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders. In fact, it’s pretty normal.
Other countries have inferior potassium:
That was probably the best national anthem I’ve ever heard. For the Georgian equivalent of a proud mineral export, check out manganese (Mn), that neglected square on the periodic table that’s usually confused with magnesium (Mg). Proud little Chiatura in northern Georgia, formerly a Soviet model town, boasts a large concentration of manganese mines, as well as a manganese-filled black river, though when the Soviets fled, many of the mines and processing factories closed down. And they took down the glowing Lenin head from the cliff.
Your war of terror:
Borat supports our “war of terror,” he says, while wearing an American flag cowboy shirt. You know who else does? Georgia. This may be a completely inaccurate statistic, but I’ve been told that per capita, Georgia has the largest amount of troops in Iraq as part of the Iraqi Enduring Freedom Democracy Liberty Forever mission. American troops are stationed in parts of Georgia, too, to train the Georgian soldiers and to give them cool US uniforms to wear, and also to misbehave at expat bars.
Running of the Jew:
“Kazakhstan has some problems—economic, social, and Jew.” Oh Borat, you anti-Semite. You won’t find such a celebration of Jew-hating in Georgia (probably not either, I’d wager, in Kazakhstan). Did you know that before Israel existed, a large Jewish population used to live in Georgia, waiting around in the Caucasus for a space to open up in the Holy Land? You can still hear a synthesizer version of “Hava Nagela” played at many a Georgian supra. The last time I was at a supra where “Hava Nagela” was played, everyone formed a conga line, grabbing the shoulders of the person in front of them and jumping as a chain throughout the small apartment screaming “Hava Nagela” at the top of their lungs. It was one of those surreal moments that I keep meaning to write a blog post about.
Too much booty in the pants:
Remember when Borat is leaving for America and he starts dancing with his fellow villagers? That’s about the same. Minus the Running Man. Actually, Georgian dance is pretty cool-looking, and most of the culturally-educated Georgians know how to do it and will beg to teach you and/or laugh at your failed attempts. Side note: While Borat throws dice for fun, Georgian men tend toward backgammon. Hours and hours of backgammon.
Onward Christian soldiers:
Borat explains that their town has dropped the Running of the Jew due to its cruelty. “We’re Christians now,” he explains, walking by a group of villagers poking at a man on a cross with a pitchfork (best joke of the movie, IMO). But are they a bunch of Saint Johnny-come-latelies? Georgia was only the second nation to name Christianity as its official religion. They’re mostly Georgian Orthodox here, which leads to many holidays that you may not be familiar with. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why we make bean pastries on St. Barbara’s day, or why we celebrate Old New Year two weeks after Regular New Year, but I’m not sure my host family knows either, so give me a break.
So that’s it, your guide to the differences and similarities between the world of Borat and the Republic of Georgia. I hope I’ve made it culturally sensitive and positive enough that it can stay online long enough for all 10 people who read my blog to see, and all ya’ll best be good and enlightened now after all that typing.
P.S. Borat looks more like an East European than a Central Asian, FYI.
Monday, February 05, 2007
A Tbilisi State of Mind
How come every time you come around, my London London bridge wanna go down like London, London, London...
I have an inkling that those lyrics mean something inappropriate, but just because Fergie wants to go around making up dirty idioms doesn't mean I'm going to treat them like official Webster's phrases. Why the lyrics? Heidi and I stayed at an expat's house last weekend for 3 nights and there was a computer with Limewire in the bedroom. This led to the following display that my taste in music has not only worsened but has died:
"Buttons" Pussycat Dolls
"Lithium" Evanescence
"Irreplaceable" Beyonce
"Wind It Up" Gwen Stefani
"Maneater" Nelly Furtado
As a side note though, I bet ya'll in America can't make anything of some of the other new additions to my music list. I'm just as in love with these songs. And some of them are just as bad (Russian pop... vai meh).
"Chori, Chori" Aneela & Arash
"Rette Mich" Tokio Hotel
"Tsvietok i Nozh" Via Gra (yes, really)
You know what's exciting? The next group of Georgia volunteers are getting their invitations over the next few months. I can see now how naive it was to gaze intently at the G5s as they made their "expert" presentations last year during training... if there's one word I'm not going to use to describe myself, it's "expert." Especially not about Georgia, but perhaps about Weird Al. I feel like this means I should be putting some more specific Georgia information in here (also knowing that most family/friends reading this blog didn't choose to do so for the purpose of getting foreign language music suggestions). Here's some, then:
1) We met Giorgi Targamadze this weekend! Of course you know already that he's the most famous journalist in Georgia, but did you also know that he shops in the Euromart on Rustaveli in Tbilisi? He gave us (me) his phone number and email address, so perhaps a story related to Peace Corps is in the works. Nicholas plans to tell him about BLOC, the boys' leadership camp, which is actually more newsworthy than any of the projects I was thinking of. Maybe I could preempt him by pointing Giorgi in the direction of GLOW*, the girls' leadership camp. Maybe the story could be on both. Maybe the story could be on me and how I have long hair.
2) This past week was also supposed to be our language and counterpart conference. However, on the first day of our language conference-- and just when we were getting to pester our instructor for that special genre of words she refused to teach us during training (gaajvi is one, ha ha ha!)-- we were evacuated from the hotel because apparently some gun-wielding relative of the hotel owners was on the run from the police and had been pursued into the basement of our hotel. Tsavidet (let's go)! All the volunteers were fine and nobody got hurt, thanks to the valiant efforts of Peace Corps staff (special shoutout to Teo, the language and homestar coordinator who got knocked over by a cop). That night, I stayed in an infinitely better hotel; the next night, a step down; the next 3 nights, back to the traditional Peace Corps hostel, the Nika. Oh well.
More noteworthy was the fact that when I brokenly imparted this story to my host family, they looked bored. My host sister looked up long enough to say "Gasagebia" ("It's clear") and then returned to watching Montecristo, the most popular Latin American soap opera this season. My host mom continued to chew her fingernails, and the neighbor kid continued to kick the armchair with his heels.
3) Good to know: giving someone your phone number is giving them carte blanche to text and call you to their heart's content, regardless of reciprocation or usage of new word genres. Better to know: this is apparently how many Georgian men meet their wives-- by texting and calling and calling and calling and texting until they cave. You might be weak like me and unable to think of another way to get someone to go away other than by giving them your phone number (especially since they'll call you while they're still standing there so you can have their phone number too, a prize you've coveted since time eternal). You might expect that there's no danger in harassment if the person asking for your phone number is a police officer. Well just tell that to Talier (Taliet? Jalier?), the cop who has called me three times a day since Friday. I think he tried to switch phones and call me, so I've begun indiscriminately hanging up on everybody and labeling their numbers in my phone as "Suspicious Number". If there's one thing I can impart to G7, that's it. Also-- bring a freaking backpack to Georgia. Wheelie bags + Georgian roads = disaster. And of course, you'll want to fit in with all the other backpacking hippies, too.
I could go on about how being at the expat's houses this weekend and witnessing their dinner parties and taste in wine has cemented my desire to become an expat myself someday, working for the embassy and living in an embassy house in a developing nation, hosting lowly Peace Corps volunteers and wowing them with food they haven't seen in their entire life, much less in the last 7 months (Friday: Italian pasta and veal soup with shredded parmesan, followed with blueberries flambe over vanilla ice cream with chocolate pound cake. Sunday: salmon rolls to start, then pot roast with carrots and potatoes, broccoli salad THERE'S NO BROCCOLI HERE I CAN'T TELL YOU HOW GREAT THAT WAS and then strawberry NONE OF THOSE EITHER shortcake. Add ever-flowing, handpicked wine-- as overheard between expats: "Try this wine. No? Well dump that in the sink, and come on down to the cellar. I've got a nice Saperavi around here somewhere." In my training village, we had wine that had an aftertaste of fish.) And apparently I did just go on about that. But come on! Broccoli!! Strawberries!!
*GLOW, Girls Leading Our World, is the project I'm most impressed by. It was started by Peace Corps volunteers as a national camp a couple years ago, and this year they've turned it into an NGO. There's also GLOW clubs now. Girls from all over the country go to camps to hear powerful female speakers and to learn leadership skills and self esteem, healthy eating, all that. It's done in Georgian so that it can involve more girls, and it's free of cost to them. They stay for like a week in a hotel together and all their food is paid for. In a country like this, where women are expected to get married, have babies, and sit in the house for the rest of their lives, this project is amazing. I can't say I really would have cared too much about it in the US, other than maybe a "That's nice," but when you get here and your host father tells you to call your male sitemate to escort you to the grocery store, or comes and gets you from the internet cafe just because he doesn't want his daughter to be outside the house... well, let's hope GLOW can make a difference. It's slowly being transfered into Georgian hands, and hopefully that'll keep it going long after we're COSed.
Which is in 18 months, by the way. But who's counting?
I have an inkling that those lyrics mean something inappropriate, but just because Fergie wants to go around making up dirty idioms doesn't mean I'm going to treat them like official Webster's phrases. Why the lyrics? Heidi and I stayed at an expat's house last weekend for 3 nights and there was a computer with Limewire in the bedroom. This led to the following display that my taste in music has not only worsened but has died:
"Buttons" Pussycat Dolls
"Lithium" Evanescence
"Irreplaceable" Beyonce
"Wind It Up" Gwen Stefani
"Maneater" Nelly Furtado
As a side note though, I bet ya'll in America can't make anything of some of the other new additions to my music list. I'm just as in love with these songs. And some of them are just as bad (Russian pop... vai meh).
"Chori, Chori" Aneela & Arash
"Rette Mich" Tokio Hotel
"Tsvietok i Nozh" Via Gra (yes, really)
You know what's exciting? The next group of Georgia volunteers are getting their invitations over the next few months. I can see now how naive it was to gaze intently at the G5s as they made their "expert" presentations last year during training... if there's one word I'm not going to use to describe myself, it's "expert." Especially not about Georgia, but perhaps about Weird Al. I feel like this means I should be putting some more specific Georgia information in here (also knowing that most family/friends reading this blog didn't choose to do so for the purpose of getting foreign language music suggestions). Here's some, then:
1) We met Giorgi Targamadze this weekend! Of course you know already that he's the most famous journalist in Georgia, but did you also know that he shops in the Euromart on Rustaveli in Tbilisi? He gave us (me) his phone number and email address, so perhaps a story related to Peace Corps is in the works. Nicholas plans to tell him about BLOC, the boys' leadership camp, which is actually more newsworthy than any of the projects I was thinking of. Maybe I could preempt him by pointing Giorgi in the direction of GLOW*, the girls' leadership camp. Maybe the story could be on both. Maybe the story could be on me and how I have long hair.
2) This past week was also supposed to be our language and counterpart conference. However, on the first day of our language conference-- and just when we were getting to pester our instructor for that special genre of words she refused to teach us during training (gaajvi is one, ha ha ha!)-- we were evacuated from the hotel because apparently some gun-wielding relative of the hotel owners was on the run from the police and had been pursued into the basement of our hotel. Tsavidet (let's go)! All the volunteers were fine and nobody got hurt, thanks to the valiant efforts of Peace Corps staff (special shoutout to Teo, the language and homestar coordinator who got knocked over by a cop). That night, I stayed in an infinitely better hotel; the next night, a step down; the next 3 nights, back to the traditional Peace Corps hostel, the Nika. Oh well.
More noteworthy was the fact that when I brokenly imparted this story to my host family, they looked bored. My host sister looked up long enough to say "Gasagebia" ("It's clear") and then returned to watching Montecristo, the most popular Latin American soap opera this season. My host mom continued to chew her fingernails, and the neighbor kid continued to kick the armchair with his heels.
3) Good to know: giving someone your phone number is giving them carte blanche to text and call you to their heart's content, regardless of reciprocation or usage of new word genres. Better to know: this is apparently how many Georgian men meet their wives-- by texting and calling and calling and calling and texting until they cave. You might be weak like me and unable to think of another way to get someone to go away other than by giving them your phone number (especially since they'll call you while they're still standing there so you can have their phone number too, a prize you've coveted since time eternal). You might expect that there's no danger in harassment if the person asking for your phone number is a police officer. Well just tell that to Talier (Taliet? Jalier?), the cop who has called me three times a day since Friday. I think he tried to switch phones and call me, so I've begun indiscriminately hanging up on everybody and labeling their numbers in my phone as "Suspicious Number". If there's one thing I can impart to G7, that's it. Also-- bring a freaking backpack to Georgia. Wheelie bags + Georgian roads = disaster. And of course, you'll want to fit in with all the other backpacking hippies, too.
I could go on about how being at the expat's houses this weekend and witnessing their dinner parties and taste in wine has cemented my desire to become an expat myself someday, working for the embassy and living in an embassy house in a developing nation, hosting lowly Peace Corps volunteers and wowing them with food they haven't seen in their entire life, much less in the last 7 months (Friday: Italian pasta and veal soup with shredded parmesan, followed with blueberries flambe over vanilla ice cream with chocolate pound cake. Sunday: salmon rolls to start, then pot roast with carrots and potatoes, broccoli salad THERE'S NO BROCCOLI HERE I CAN'T TELL YOU HOW GREAT THAT WAS and then strawberry NONE OF THOSE EITHER shortcake. Add ever-flowing, handpicked wine-- as overheard between expats: "Try this wine. No? Well dump that in the sink, and come on down to the cellar. I've got a nice Saperavi around here somewhere." In my training village, we had wine that had an aftertaste of fish.) And apparently I did just go on about that. But come on! Broccoli!! Strawberries!!
*GLOW, Girls Leading Our World, is the project I'm most impressed by. It was started by Peace Corps volunteers as a national camp a couple years ago, and this year they've turned it into an NGO. There's also GLOW clubs now. Girls from all over the country go to camps to hear powerful female speakers and to learn leadership skills and self esteem, healthy eating, all that. It's done in Georgian so that it can involve more girls, and it's free of cost to them. They stay for like a week in a hotel together and all their food is paid for. In a country like this, where women are expected to get married, have babies, and sit in the house for the rest of their lives, this project is amazing. I can't say I really would have cared too much about it in the US, other than maybe a "That's nice," but when you get here and your host father tells you to call your male sitemate to escort you to the grocery store, or comes and gets you from the internet cafe just because he doesn't want his daughter to be outside the house... well, let's hope GLOW can make a difference. It's slowly being transfered into Georgian hands, and hopefully that'll keep it going long after we're COSed.
Which is in 18 months, by the way. But who's counting?
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