Thursday, February 07, 2008

Overheard at a Supra

Instead of relating anecdotes, let's use direct dialogue from a recent supra to paint a picture of cultural exchange. This supra happens to be the Ormotsi ("Forty") of our next-door neighbor, which marks the end of the official mourning time for his family-- forty days past his death.

Dialogues

Neighbor: Do they have khachapuri [cheesebread] in America?
Me: No, we don't have khachapuri.
Different elderly neighbor: They don't have khachapuri. They don't have khinkali [meat dumplings]. What do they eat?

Familiar neighbor: Where do you want to sit?
Me: Where there's people that I know.
Familiar neighbor: Okay, sit over there next to Mediko.
(sits down)
Me: Hello, Mediko.
Mediko: I invited you to my house last week, and you didn't come.
Me: Um...

Toastmaster: And now a toast to our guest from another continent!
Me: Thank you.
Toastmaster: I know that you'll have a great family because you know not only American culture, but Georgian culture.
Me: Thank you.
Toastmaster: America is over 200 years old. It is a province. Georgia is thousands of years old. Compared to Georgia, America has no culture.
Me: Thank you.

Familiar neighbor: Jeni, you must drink that toast to the bottom!
Me: Fine. (drinks to the bottom)
Familiar neighbor: Good girl. (turns to other neighbors). Do you know what she said the other day? She was at home with her host family, and they made a joke about how the word 'cheese' sounds like the word $%^@# [Georgian swear word]. They said it was okay because Jeni doesn't know the bad word, but then she said, 'No, I know: cheese is good and $@#%#$ is bad.'
All neighbors: (general boisterous laughter)
Me: (blushes)

Me: Something smells good! What is it?
Host sister: [in English] Hen bowels.
Me: Oh... wait, why do you know that word?

Host mother: (sleeping in chair)
Host sister: (takes picture)
Host mother: (wakes up) Oh, I can't sleep yet-- it's not dark.
Me: You need sleep!
Host mother: I know. I baked cakes last night for this supra until 3:00 AM. Then at 3:30, I woke up to start baking khachapuri. I spent six hours yesterday making three atchmas [cheese & butter lasagna], and it was in vain because they didn't even finish eating two of them. But what can I do? We're Georgians, and we always make a ridiculous amount of food.
Me: It was delicious.

2 comments:

მიჩინიო said...

Hello Jennifer,

I just suddenly found your blog and am reading it already for one hour. I often read and hear about Georgia from people abroad but your writings are interesting and ideas very frank.

Hope you don't regret visit here, regardless everything.

Peace,
Gia

Casey said...

Oh, Honey, I got a belly laugh out of this one. I am in Indiana somewhere, in the RV and it's supposed to be 7 tomorrow morning. What am I doing?
Love, Mummy

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