To be sure, they demonstrate the stereotypical Georgian characteristics, like yelling a lot and being quick-tempered, though they take pride in these, as it gives them a feeling of kindred brotherhood with the Italians. Or so they tell me.
For those of you who knew me in the US, you know I wasn't prone to talking much around people I didn't know well. My host sister, Irina, is perfectly content to practice her English during that vacuum of silence, or just to sit awkwardly and wait for me to say something. I appreciate that infinitely. She also takes my side during cultural battles, such as when I say I don't want anymore eggplant, and her mother-- being a good Georgian hostess-- tells me to eat more eggplant again, and Irina yells something like, "Aren't you listening?! She doesn't want anymore eggplant, woman!!" Irina loves Bruce Willis, Will Smith, Monica Bellucci, and Jennifer Lopez, and she's understandably the best English student in her class.
Irakli lives in his own apartment in Tbilisi, but he sometimes/rarely comes to visit. In this picture, he's mowing the lawn like a good man-of-the-house. Lucky boy, he's leaving in two months to go study English in London for a year, so he can add to his existing array of scattered English, such as "because," "boy," "not at all," and an assortment of anatomically-based swear words. I'm under the impression that certain of his habits-- ordering his female family members around, driving like a lunatic, smoking 3 packs of cigarettes a day-- will either cease in London or force him to return. I'm hoping for the former. Irakli likes Russian music, driving, and Tbilisi night life.
My host mother Rusico (on the left) takes care of these two old children, with the occasional assistance and visitation from her sister and neighbor, Darejan (on the right). Rusico spends much of the day taking care of the house, shopping in the bazaar, and chatting with her friends over coffee. She also has an insatiable love for "serialis," the Latin American soap operas which I believe I described in the last blog entry. Serialis run from about 6 PM to 11 PM, and then they rerun the next morning so you can see them with fewer commercials. Her favorite seriali is "Meore Sitsotskle," or "El Cuerpo del Deseo" in Spanish.
My host father Alexander lives and works in Russia as a businessman. He's made the occasional cameo, namely once in July when I was first visiting Samtredia, and once in February. He's a typical Georgian "mamakatsi" (man's man), and he loves to bring back presents for his kids. He's also tried to teach Irina how to swim and how to drive, though the latter resulted in a 400-lari ticket, as we happen to live down the street from a police station, which was probably not the best place to put a 15-year-old behind the wheel. I don't know what Alexander likes, but Russian music is probably a safe bet, as is vodka. That's not a jab at Russians (or is it?)-- I recall excessive vodka presence in the house during the month of February.
So how do I fit in here? Well, first I had to establish a niche for myself as a strange member of the family who eats their food but isn't subject to their rules (hey, they get reimbursed for it). This is not to say that I flounce around the house in booty shorts and get home every night at 3 AM, just that I don't ask permission before I go places... though I do inform them, which is something I won't miss when I get home. Furthermore, I also transformed myself into the most docile person on the planet. For example, I like to be in the same room as everybody-- that's the family, and also the 10,000 neighbors who come over every day-- but I don't like seriali, so I read while they watch them. This led to my host sister labeling me with her new vocabulary word "bookworm," and to her mother saying that she'd let her daughter be as free as I am if she knew her daughter was going to read all the time like I do. I smiled at the mental picture of myself in New York reading from 8-10PM and then heading off to bed, but I didn't protest.
That's another thing to get used to. You know on a conscious level that there's different common opinions and practices in Georgia than in the US, but there's still a visceral reaction to things that seem unjust to you. For example, when we're watching Lost and the character Michael is identified by a word that vaguely translates into "negro." Instinctively, I want to write everyone in the room off as bigots. Logically, I know that they're not saying it out of hate, but rather that in a mostly-homogenous culture like Georgia's (or one that purports itself to be), identifying people by their differences is to be expected. It's not a mark of backwardness, either, since Korea does it too. And I know the reason they identify the characters Sun and Jin as Chinese rather than Korean is because there's an influx of Chinese people and stores here, and they're more familiar with what Chinese people look like than Korean-- though if her cousins ask about the Chinese person on Lost, Irina starts smacking them and pointing at me, hissing "KOREAN!" My defender.
That's about it for my family for now. As a last note, I've included this picture of my host cousin Gia, who asked me to put his picture on the internet because he's looking for an American wife. So, ladies... this is Gia. He has a master's degree in economics, and A JOB in Kutaisi (don't underestimate the value of that; there's 80% unemployment here). He's 26 years old, and he's said repeatedly that he's willing to do 50% of the housework, since that's what I told him it would take. Gia has a good sense of humor, and he can somewhat play the piano. He's looking for a lovely American wife to take on moonlit walks along the Black Sea. Leave a comment if interested!
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