TBS-KPB-PEK-OKA

Yesterday, my brother-in-law came home from a seven-month deployment overseas.  I just wanted to take a moment and say what an incredible badass I think he is.

That's my beautiful sister welcoming her husband home.  Welcome back, my honorary brother and excellent friend!

And, thank you for being so willing to share your wife with me for the next month!

This time tomorrow, I will be in the Kiev airport.  Waiting out a five hour layover before boarding an 8-hour flight to Beijing, a TEN HOUR layover there, and then humping the final leg to Okinawa, where these people will be waiting for me.  This will be the longest trip I've made in my life so far by a long shot, but I would happily take a trip four times as long if it meant I could see these two at the end of it.

I haven't packed a thing yet, but Christmas presents are all bought.  Eve and Brad, I hope you like Georgian kitch! :)

I love traveling.  I even, in a warped, messed-up kind of way, love airports.  I love how everyone is going somewhere.  Everyone is on a road, be that business or visiting family or finally making that dream vacation you've wanted all your life.  I love making single-serving friends at airport bars or sharing the same space in a squished seating row.  When you're in an airport, it sort of by definition means that you are in transit.  You are leaving something behind, whatever it is and for however long, for something else.  Maybe something new.  Maybe something sad.  Maybe something life-changing.  Maybe something small and inconvenient.  But maybe something awesome.

I have a feeling I'm heading into a whole lot of awesome.

I'm also, little by little, catching up to Matt. :)

I have this beautiful song on my iPod, and I hear it in my head whenever I'm about to step onto ground I have not felt before.  When I was going through my depression of earlier this year, I watched this video a lot.  It always made me happy, and it also helped to re-cement my love of seeing new, exotic, and possibly difficult places, and hardened my shattered resolve to try and live the kind of life I knew I wanted.

I'm completely convinced that this man has the single Best Job in the World, and I want to be him.  Failing actual body-snatcher success, I'm pretty sure that right at this moment I am as close to being Matt as it's possible to be.  Three countries in 24 hours?  Yes please.  Even if two of those are just airports.  Because like I said, I dig on airports.  I do not think I'd be able to get anyone to dance with me though, although I'll never know for sure because I don't plan to try. :)  I leave the dancing to the professionals.

A week in the life...

Been a week since I left you with probably more negativity than you wanted on your Sunday.  And, as my mother and a good friend so wisely remind me... "This too shall pass."

My Program did end up calling my host family on Monday morning.  When I got home from my first day at the new school, my host Mom was very awesome and we had a long talk -- as much as such a thing is possible with the  language barrier! :)  She broke out the apple chacha and we mended fences the true Georgian way.  My Program also assured me that extraordinary circumstances were in play that had nothing to do with me.  My bedroom's still really chilly, but I'm leaving my door open a little more these days.

The first week at my new school went really well.  My new co-teachers so far seem very supportive and eager to collaborate.  A little different from my Poti school where I wrote in my journal most classes to stave off mind-killing boredom!

I did not work on Wednesday however, because the Tbilisi volunteers got an invitation to attend a meeting with Georgia's Minister of Education at the Sheraton Hotel.  There were about a hundred of us, so it's not like I actually got to meet the man or anything, and no one else was taking pictures (except for journalists) so I didn't feel comfortable snapping any shots either.  But I enjoyed his presentation; he seems very progressive and eager to take our Program even further than it's already come.  Meeting ended around 2:00 and I spent the rest of the day (and well into the night!) hanging with some new expat friends.  Pretty cool day all around.

Friday was a bit of an adventure... I only have two classes on Fridays so came home at 11:00 after a very hard workday. :)  My host mom had lunch ready and once again pulled out the apple chacha.  That stuff is truly deadly.  It sneaks up on you.  This is twice now I have gone from "fine" to flatlined with very little warning in between.  So after my... nap, I arose refreshed and ready to tackle Tbilisi's incomprehensible mass transit system.

I have slowly come to the irritating conclusion that, unless I want to plunk down five or six lari for a cab ride (may not sound like a lot to you Statesiders, but please keep in mind this is almost HALF of what I make in a day!), it's going to take upwards of 30 to ninety minutes to get ANYWHERE.  Doubtless I'll learn some additional secrets as the weeks and months roll out, but as of now I have learned the hard way to budget at least an hour and a half to get anywhere.  That's a little redic, even for someone with as much free time as I have these days.

But back on Friday, I only gave myself one measley hour to get to Suzanne's place, and so was half an hour late.  Oh well.  We were meeting there to travel to Dani's 23rd Birthday Party.

Dani's family must dig her a lot. :)  Huge spread at an excellent restaurant, kareoke (I did NOT sing), followed by dancing.

Me and the Birthday Girl!

This loooong table was all Dani!  Also, Mark and Julie came to town!

 It was a great time, followed by a cool conversation and standing massage (so awesome) at Suzanne's after.  Many thanks to Dani and her family!

Last night was another good time, but I don't feel like uploading photos right now so you will have to wait a few days for the next installment of my Nutty Life Chronicles.

Oh yes, and this time next week I will be wrapping up my first day in JAPAN.  I have been waiting for this for so long, it's almost weird to have takeoff finally so close.  Eve sent me a link to this fabulous website, with instructions to email her with a list of things I wanted to see/do/eat.  Needless to say it was a long list!  Castles, temples, waterfalls, snorkeling, whale watching... and lots and lots of time sipping champagne in pajamas and watching silly movies.  And all of it with two of my favorite people who I haven't seen in almost two years!  Just thinking about that is enough to make me forget a couple of minor second-world inconveniences.

This week is going to fly by what with prep and packing (I love lists so much!), not to mention Christmas present buying which I have been a complete slacker on thus far.

Gloves off

In my last post, once again I talked about everything that was good -- host family, location, meeting with friends in the city.  And everything I told you was 100% truth.

I just didn't tell you all of it.

But tonight, for reasons that I trust will soon be made quite clear, I am inspired towards honesty.  Truth without the rose-colored glass I so often write my posts behind, because this sucker is public and I am afraid of hurting someone's feelings.

But tonight, just once -- heck with that.

I am fighting it, but the truth of the matter is that so far my Tbilisi life has been quite frustrating and more than a little disappointing.  Being so far out on the city outskirts is a gigantic pain in the ass.  Among other things, it means I am very isolated in the evenings and I have not found any other expats nearby to play with.  After seven months with my very cool, always-up-for-an-adventure Poti crew, this shit is like a steady drip of cold water while standing naked in a Georgian winter.  I am BORED.

An exploratory long walk of my neighborhood was completely depressing.  There are two possible restaurants, and an additional restaurant that is probably a strip club or something else unsavory.  (Georgia has a lot of these.)  There are about 35 gas stations, a couple furniture stores, some autobody shops, and the usual array of seedy local markets run by grouchy bent babushkas who glare at you like an American flag is going to pop out and distract everyone while you steal something.  In short, there is precious little to do within walking distance.  And even though I have yet to try either of the restaurants, exactly how much do I want to fork over my lari to sit in a drafty cafe and eat Georgian food (salty and bland, hooray!)  by myself?

A huge source of frustration has been regarding my attempts to (re)connect with the other expats here.  Messages have gone unanswered, promises to call have yet to be fulfilled.  I have no idea what the heck is going on, but so far I have felt very alone here.  It was quite excellent to see Suzanne and meet some new people on Friday.  But (and maybe this is just my social anxiety acting up), I don't know that I really gelled with most of the people there.  And I am really kind of over begging people to come and hang out with me.

Today, I got up (and put on earrings, even!) and marshutkaed into downtown Tbilisi because my friend Levan (from the 11-hour Kobuleti bar extravaganza) was playing at the Tbilisi Marriott for Sunday brunch.  But Levan completely failed to mention that this event was not something where it was cool to just roll up by yourself.  There were nothing but big tables for large groups, and even if there had been a bar or a convenient two-top in the corner, it wouldn't have mattered because you needed a reservation.  It would have been really, really cool to have known this in advance.  I got to say Hi to Levan between songs and walk right back out of there again.  Fucking super.  I sent Levan a text to call me when he was done and we'd meet for a drink.  Radio silence.  Whatevs.

And now, for the grand finale of my bitching -- the host family.  I wrote that they were wonderful, and they were.  I hope they will be wonderful again.  But for the past several days, they have been dealing (badly) with some family issues (I think).  There was a very big and terrible blow-up Thursday night that had the family at each others' throats until almost 3:00 in the morning.  It was not pleasant to witness, even from behind a closed door.

And since then, there has been a whole lot of screaming and yelling and the occasional meltdown.  Earlier this evening my host Mom screamed into the phone for half an hour, and is currently at it again with a family member or two.  This whole deal is -- to say the least -- extremely uncomfortable here recently, and I have been doing a lot of hiding in my room.  Last night for dinner I had Doritos.

Hiding in my room (natch) sucks a lot.  It sucks because I am fucking bored (see above), because I sit and listen to whatever awfulness is happening in the kitchen and wonder what in the HELL could be going on, and also because the only heat in the apartment is generated from a gas heater in the kitchen next door.  When my door is closed, it gets very chilly in here.  And -- much like my last host family, and one of the reasons I decided to leave -- they have refused to supply me with a heater that they are contractually obligated to provide.

I don't know exactly what to do about all this.  If the fighting and screaming and uncomfortableness continues then of course I will not be able to stay here.  But I have emailed my Program about this issue and have yet to receive a response.  Just one more frustration in a whole sea of them these days.

For now I think I will visit one of the local shops and purchase another dinner bag of Doritos.  And maybe some vodka.

Tomorrow I teach for the first time in my new school.

Tbilisi: First Week

Hello again, faithful readers!

Well, here I am in beautiful Tbilisi, settled in my new room in my new host-apartment with my new very excellent host-family.

Turns out I am not in Saburtalo; closer to Digomi or Didube.  I am distinctly on the edge of the city, but things could definitely be worse, mainly thanks to Marshutka #40, whose route takes me on a 45-minute journey to Freedom Square, on the way passing Tbilisi's massive nutty main Bazari, the stadium, a brewery, a marshutka station, a Thai restaurant, Tbilisi's Catholic Church, a nice district north of the river that has plenty of shops and restaurants, and a McDonalds.

Speaking of, I ate at McDonald's twice yesterday.  I am not ashamed.

McDonald's in Tbilisi is a bit of an odd concept.  It's McDonald's, so their Big Mac (I had one!), their double cheeseburger (had one of these too!), and their McChicken (and one of these!  Blame the Georgian beer!) all are wonderfully identical to any of the same taste explosions you might get at a rest stop in New Jersey.  But because they are the same, they are priced the same.  This transforms McDonald's from the inexpensive last-resort-meal-on-the-go to an incredible extravagance.  For example, earlier in the week I had lunch at a cute little restaurant near the Bazari.  Giant chicken shwarma wrap and two draft beers came to just under nine lari.  In contrast, my lunch of Big Mac, small fries and large coke came to a mighty eleven lari.  And this for a meal that did not -- for the record -- even include any alcohol.

The true irony here is that I would likely cut off my own pinky than eat McDonald's twice in one day when in the States.  Here, it was just awesome.  But also something reserved for special occasions, for the sake of both my BMI and my wallet.

Still, that Big Mac was fucking good.   Anyway.

Life in Tbilisi, believe it or not, has been pretty quiet so far.  I arrived a week ago today, at just about this time.  It was starting to snow.  I had a quiet dinner with my new host mom and host sisters (with fruit juice as beverage!!), took a sleeping pill and had an early night.

The next morning I woke up to this:

View from my apartment's balcony.

You can see from the rather sparse urban landscape that my new host-apartment is not exactly in the middle of things!  Probably not entirely a bad thing that this is so. :)

Also, my host family had chickens on their balcony.

The next day started off just as quiet.  I've started reading Kerouac's On the Road and spent a lot of the day doing that.  But at dinner, the homemade apple chacha came out (delicious, and made by my host grandpa!), and the night got very Georgian indeed. :)

Shots with my host mom Kate, dance party in the bedroom with host sister Tatia and her cousin Ann, and then Kate decided we needed to visit my host dad Zviadi at the restaurant where he sings!  So we did.

Tatia and Ann

Host Mom Kate and me.  We bonded this night a little. :)

 The week has proceeded apace.  On Monday, Kate took me to the aforementioned massive, utterly insane Tbilisi Bazari.  On Tuesday, I took good old #40 into town and splurged on drinks and lunch at the Marriott.  Mimosas (real mimosas!!!) and smoked salmon and French onion soup.  YUM.  I've taken a couple walks and braved the Bazari on my own and met a few friends, and so far I have to say I am very happy with my life in the Big City.

View of the city from the playground next to my apartment.

Last night I braved the bus system (different than the marshutkas) and went into Saburtalo to meet my old Orientation roommate Suzanne and some of her friends.  All very cool people; we drank plenty of Georgian beer and Suzanne and I had our late-night trip to McDonald's to finish off our night.  A bunch of folks there were heading downtown to a bar after that, but it was 1:00 AM and I decided to call it a night.  Looking forward to hanging with those guys again though.

Quiet Saturday today after last night's shenanigans.  And my little host sister, Anano, just came in wanting her second English lesson of the day!  How... wonderful. 

Happy Thanksgiving and surprise announcement

I don't really need to point out what an incredible roller coaster of a year this has been.  I am so very thankful to be typing this blog entry in Georgia.  I am, always and every day, thankful for my incredible family and friends who have been my rocks and shoulders my whole life, and who continue to do so from thousands of miles away.

Yesterday, Mark and I celebrated by splurging on one of Poti's nicer restaurants.  We ordered roast chicken (no turkey), mashed potatoes, mushrooms with sulguni cheese cooked in the ketsi, ceasar salad, and shared a bottle of saperavi.  Absolutely one of my best meals in Poti.

Check out the awesome edible candlelit sculpture!

I also got a wonderful surprise a couple days ago, and Mustafa came back to Poti for a few days!  So he joined Mark and I last night.  So good to see him again!

Ever the classy and mature one.

This dinner was a special event not only because it was Thanksgiving, and not only because Mustafa came to visit, but also because it was the second-to-last dinner I will probably ever eat in Poti, barring a weekend visit.

That's because I am moving to Tbilisi.  Tomorrow.

What happened to the middle of December, you ask?  Well a lot of reasons and factors contributed to my decision to leave early.  My Program called me last week with the offer to move early if I wanted.  I took a few days to think about it and ultimately agreed.

So.  All packed up, once again.  Tomorrow I leave on the noon marshutka for a very uncomfortable ride to Tbilisi, where I will meet my new host family.  Mom, Dad, two girls.  Sounds a little familiar. :)

They are placing me in the district of Saburtalo.  It's not right in the center but is still definitely city proper.  I'm looking forward to figuring out the metro and bus system.  Also looking forward to finding a part-time second job to help cover all the expenses I know I will have!

So once again, stay tuned!  The Next Phase is about to begin.

Cravings

Solitude.  It's important.  Especially if you're me.  Before I came to Georgia, time to and for myself was one of my priorities.  I would schedule "dates" with myself on a regular basis to make sure this priority was met.  Lovely dates with me and my pajamas and hockey games and meals from Whole Foods.  And should it be that some group event got scheduled on one of these planned days... well, I was busy.  I had important stuff to do.  Sitting in comfortable silence, straightening out my mind.  No bra.  Farting whenever the hell I wanted to.  And yeah, opening the champagne for mimosas at eleven fucking thirty if I damn well felt like it.  Talking to myself in full voice unashamedly.  Reading a silly novel cover-to-cover.  Back home, my friends and I called such solitary indulgences "No Pants Days".  And they were wonderful.

I realized today (while on the toilet, make of this what you will), that I have not been truly alone for well over seven months.  And its starting to wear.

Sure, I am technically "alone" right now, freezing my tukus off in my borrowed/rented bedroom.  But the good ole Georgian TV is coming through the floor as usual, and when I decide I'm a little peckish, it's not like I can go downstairs and just make myself a little something.  Up here, I always feel a little bit like I'm hiding.

In the seven months I have been here, the whole family has left the house at one time exactly once.  One afternoon, for a funeral.  And even that ended up being not true, as Nata decided she didn't want to go and spent the afternoon blasting teen pop with a friend while I hid in my bedroom, just another normal day.

Travels beyond the realm of Poti have all been group affairs.  They have all been awesome, but have not afforded much chance for alone time, either.  During my summer trip to Tbilisi, I stayed in a hostel.  No privacy there.

For the past seven+ months, it's just been people people people, all the TIME. I love ya all, but good Christ.

The night I got to spend at the InTourist Hotel in Batumi was divine, but that damn evening of solitude began at freaking midnight, and even then my roommate popped in a few times.  I certainly do not begrudge her being in her own allocated hotel room, but it means that even that superb evening cannot be counted as true cocooned-away, quality alone time.  It was not a No Pants Day.

And I need one.  I need my Reset button pressed, big time.  I am coming off the tail end of a prescribed period of convalescence following last week's digestive pyrotechnics,* and whether that has anything to do with it or not, my restlessness has kicked into overdrive.  I need to be somewhere where I can take a true breath.  Somewhere where no one can shout out my name.  And adding proper heat to this senario would be a nice touch.  Short of blowing $100 US on a hotel room, I just don't see that freaking happening.

And then, in complete polarity to what I just wrote, I also realized a few weeks ago that my life is missing something else.  And it speaks to the incredible goodness of my family and closest friends that until I left them and came to Georgia, I never even realized it could be absent.

I miss affection.  I miss basic human contact with loved ones.  Hugging my parents goodbye at the airport was the last true embrace I've had.  Sure, I hug friends here, but I think I don't need to try to hard at explaining how hugging a friend or friendly aquaintance is not the same as hugging your mother, or hugging someone whom you've known since you were 17 and who is now such a part of your life that he has become a part of your very self.

As a surprise to my own prickly self, I want a hug.  A real hug.  Solid and full-body, the whole shebang, the Real Deal.  The kind I used to get all the time.  Took for granted, even.  Luckily, I know exactly where one is waiting, and we are three weeks and counting until I get the best hug I can possibly imagine.

If you think this post sounds a little like I'm whining, I probably would not disagree with you.



* Name the movie reference!!

Autumn in Poti

Winter weather has definitely set in here. My host family, like most Georgian families outside the big cities, have heat in the form of a woof stove in the kitchen. It's quite toasty and cozy and I actually find I like it quite a bit. However, it does absolutely nothing for the rest of the house. So I have been spending more time than usual hanging out in the kitchen, working on my TEFL or reading or eating, while doing my best to ignore the Georgian TV that is the kitchen's constant companion, blasting at its usual 4756 decibels. But other than that (I actually went to put in earplugs the other day so I could work), I find I am weathering my Georgian winter quite cheerfully so far. I enjoy spending time with the fam, and the recent lack of internet means I haven't had much need for privacy during the day. At night, I bundle up in layers and long underwear and this really excellent wool hat that my Mom bought me at Plow and Hearth before I left. I think I may be acclimating. :)

But anyway, here's what I've been up to.  Abridged.

As I mentioned in my last post, I attended a funeral recently, the grandmother of our neighbors and family friend passed away.  It was, naturally, very sad, and I did feel slightly awkward as a funeral is generally not the place for tourism.  But while I did not know the lady herself, I had spent time with her family, and I was touched that they wanted me there, or at least accepted me into their ranks with typical flawless Georgian hospitality.  After we walked to the gravesite, I attended the funeral supra.

Crummy photo of the funeral supra.  The Tamada is standing up and giving a toast on the far side of the room.

In addition to my four Georgian weddings, I recently I also got to attend a "Second-Day Wedding," which is, near as I can tell, exactly like the actual wedding except this party takes place the afternoon following, is casual, is only for 150 guests instead of 300, and you start doing chacha shots at 1:30.

Bonding with the host Dad.

An intimate party of friends. :)

Modestly-sized drinking horn.

About a month ago Poti got three new volunteers, which brings our expat tally up to nine.  They are all very cool people and have incorporated nicely into our little group of misfits.  I hope to have at least a few more chances to hang out and get to know them before I leave... in a month!  Time here flies by so fast.

Mustafa and Julie with new volunteers Pauli and Arham.

Back when it was still warm enough, I took what will likely be my last bike ride out to Maltakqva. The beach and park were so beautiful and peaceful. I will miss this part of the world.

A little over a week ago, my host family made churchkhela which are strings of hazelnuts dipped in pelamushi, or a kind of sweet wine pudding.

And of course the expat shenanigans continue unabated.  Back before Mustafa went back to Turkey (SAD!), we passed a very enjoyable afternoon at a restaurant called Old House.

Possibly one of the very best photos I have ever taken.

I have absolutely no idea what I was doing.

Georgian Wine Goggles

Back at his apartment, Mustafa had a slight problem with his laptop...

We used the keys as poker chips.  Waste not...

I miss Mustafa and his roommates a lot; they were good people and damn if Mehmet could not cook an amazing dinner.  I hope I will get to see them all again soon.

Mehmet, Murat, Oscan, Mustafa

Finally, I know I have not done a book review in ages.  I've been having trouble finding something new that I can sink my teeth into.  Right now I am about two-thirds of the way through Let the Right One In, which I like but do not strictly love so far.  I feel it's worth a review though one way or another, so stay tuned.

It's not reading, but I have been listening to a lot of This American Life, a radio show on NPR that I'm sure most of you have already heard of.  (Ever the late adopter.)  My Mom loves the progam, and back before I left the States, I downloaded a whole bunch onto my iTunes.  I am normally not a fan of talk radio, but these shows are all immensely entertaining and go a long way to curbing both homsickness and boredom on internet-less evenings.

I'm really looking forward to making the most of my last days here in Poti.  The middle of December is going to come so fast!

32!

Another long hiatus.  I am not to blame this time however -- my family's internet has been down for almost two weeks, and I have decided I really dislike Four Side, the internet cafe where I usually go to post when such things happen.  But hopefully the Series of Tubes will stay clear of gambling chips and Ted Stevens long enough for me to get a little caught up.

First off... I had a birthday.  I generally am not the hugest fan of birthdays, mine in particular.  But this year I realized I actually could check off a goal or two in my life's bucket list so felt less awkward than usual about getting a year older.  And my birthday weekend was spectacular.

First of all, I need to give some very heartfelt thanks to my parents and my friend Matt, who managed to send me birthday cards from across the world.  And also to our wonderful family friends, Colleen and Allen, who also sent a card (with a generous present tucked inside!).  You cannot imagine the warm fuzzies you get when you've been electronically cut off from your friends and loved ones and suddenly here comes mail for you, in a town that doesn't even have mailboxes!  Please believe me when I say that each of you made my day.

This past Saturday, Mark, Julie and I marshutkaed into Zugdidi to go to Amerikidan, the American bar and grill we'd stopped into on our way to Svaneti.  The weather was utterly horrible -- rain and freezing rain and all around gray November chill.  But we bundled up and had an exceptionally fun afternoon.  James from our intake group joined us, as did several volunteers from the Zugdidi area.  Two of them, Blessing and Elaine, brought me a cake, complete with candle!!  I was so touched -- I definitely had not expected a cake, and the one they brought was delicious.

Awesome cake!

Expat crew minus James, who had taken off at that point.

 We all sat around and passed a very pleasant several hours, gorging on American-style pizza and cake, sipping cocktails and beer, until sadly the three Potiers had to take our leave to catch the last marshutka.  Which... we missed.  Oops.  But luck was still with us, and we were able to negotiate a very reasonable taxi fare back to Poti.  Heat and comfortable seats and a driver who will stop if I need to pee?  SO worth the 11 extra lari.  Back in Poti, the three of us hung out at Julie's for a bit, sipping on birthday mimosas and cognac (not at the same time.)

On Sunday, my actual birthday, I gave myself the present of sleeping until 1:30.  Puttered around not doing much in an internet-less world, then at 5:30 headed over with the family to their restaurant, where they were hosting a pizza party for me! :)  So awesome.  I invited all of the Poti expats, and everyone actually showed up which made me really happy.  So, more pizza and wine and a beautiful cake that my host Mom made.  Love!

... But, then I woke up on Monday with a truly terrible case of the flu, or something.  I will, of course, spare you the details, but I spent a really uncomfortable ten or so hours and twice had to talk my host family out of taking me to the hospital.  My family, particularly my host Mom, were truly fabulous to me on this day, offering medicine and comfort.  My host sister Nata even went to the store for me when I ran out of water.  Finally at around 7 PM, some sweet chalky mixture they gave me seemed to help, and that combined with the Borjomi mineral water I requested calmed my stomach so I stopped puking.  Ugh.  Needless to say, I did not go to school yesterday or today.  No emergency bathroom runs today though, so hopefully the worst is fully behind me.

All in all, I had a simply fantastic birthday weekend.  Thanks to every one of you, near and far, who helped to make it special.  Much love.

"The hits just keep on comin'."

Funny, but it always seemed to me like that line should be regarding a bad thing.  Like... "Take your hits and keep on rolling" or some such.  But certainly finding a suitcase full of money is unquestionably a good thing, especially when it follows some serious quality time with your brother involving rope and air ducts and coins and cool prayers.  I digress.  None of those things have happened to me sadly, (especially that suitcase full of money!), but I did receive some very excellent news yesterday from my Program.

My transfer request to Tbilisi has been approved.  When I return in January from my almost-a-month visiting Favorite People (and hedgehog!) in Okinawa, I will not need to then get on a six-hour marshutka or night train.  Because I will already be home.  In the Capital!!!

This of course means saying farewell to my current, quite excellent host family.  I will miss these folks.  Over the past six months they have been all that is kind and generous to me.  Because of them, I've been able to witness four Georgian weddings and one funeral (blog post on that in a bit), numerous local dance and music concerts, afternoons at various beaches, one very cool trip to Bakhmaro, and more supras than I can count.  I feel very fortunate to have been able to spend a part of my life here as an honorary member of the family.

But from Day One, the plan has always been to change locations halfway through this adventure.  The good fortune in scoring Tbilisi is a gigantic bonus, but even if Tbilisi hadn't been possible I would have asked for Telavi or Rustavi.  I feel that I have done a pretty okay job of exploring the western side of Georgia during these six months, but there is a whole half of a country I have yet to see.  Now I'll have six months to make time for adventures into Kakheti, Kazbegi, Khevsureti, Vardzia (with another trip into Borjomi as well), and maybe a trip down into Armenia or Azerbaijan.

Mine has sure turned into an interesting life.

I'm very glad I had the opportunity to experience a side of Georgian life and culture that never would have been possible in a big city.  But I am a city girl at heart, and I'd be lying if I said the idea of theatres, cinemas, western restaurants, museums, and Prospero's Freaking Books did not excite me a whole bunch.  Sheesh, I'm gonna go broke in five minutes if I don't watch myself.

Looking very forward to The Next Phase...

Over the Edge of the Wild

"Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go."

While we managed to enjoy our weekend in Svaneti without being kidnapped by goblins or chased by wolves, the land itself had an unmistakable rugged wildness about it.  There were no carnival spin rides or hot dog stands in Mestia.  This was not Borjomi.  And while I loved both Borjomi and Svaneti, it can't be denied that Borjomi is like a Class 2 rapid to Svaneti's Class 5.

But before I could fall well and truly dangerously in love with Mestia and Svaneti -- with its mud, its crappy weather, and its bone-chilling cold, the trip was in danger of going south in totality.

This was because, after crawling to bed at 2:00+ the night before, the entire bunkhouse/hostel was awakened at  Seven O'Clock in the Fucking Morning because workers had arrived to lay a new floor in the room next door.

I'm surprised they did not see my mushroom cloud from Tbilisi.

Those of you who've met me probably have an idea of the nuclear reaction currently smoldering inside my sleep-deprived, dehydrated self.  But somehow, miraculously, British Backpacker James was able to calm me down completely by saying something like "If you let this get to you you're going to be in a bad mood all day.  Come on up to the balcony and I'll make you coffee."  And you know what?  That freaking worked.  Day saved.  Thanks James.

Oh yeah, and it was pouring rain that morning too.

Gradually the six of us converged on the balcony, sipping hot instant coffee, last night's leftover vodka, and munching on fresh apples that David One had bought at the market.  We saw some piggies making more piggies.

Eventually the talk came 'round to what exactly we were going to do with a Saturday in Svaneti when the weather was shite.  There was talk of hiking up to The Cross, which -- much like it sounds -- is a big ole cross on top of a mountain, actually visible from our balcony, waaaaay tiny up in the distance when clouds weren't covering it up.  Mark had hiked it before and said it wasn't that hard, that it took about two hours to get up there.  After a lot of back-and-forth, Mark, myself, and the two Davids decided to pile on the layers and make a go of it.

NO idea what we were in for...

Well, it soon became clear that the Davids and I had been misled.  (Thanks Mark, way to actually be in shape and all.)  This was NOT an easy hike, at least for me.  We hadn't even made it to the trail proper when I began wondering if maybe I should join James and Julie in their afternoon of drinking at the hostel instead.  But if one thing can be said about me, I can be really goddam stubborn when I put my mind to it.  And after about half an hour I decided that I was going to make it up to this bloody cross if it killed me.

It did NOT take two hours.  Closer to three, but it seemed a lot longer as pretty much every step was uphill.  Gradually the layers peeled off.  It did rain on us briefly, but mostly the weather behaved.  And as we got higher we began to be privy to some truly spectacular scenery.

I'm not gonna lie.  This hike just about killed me.  I was still hanging on to a bad cough courtesy of Borjomi, and months of strolling along Poti's flat roads had left me woefully unprepared for even a kids' meal portion of what Svaneti can dish out.  But I was having a really good time, and the sheer awesomeness of my surroundings kept spurring me on!

Stubbornness pays off, and eventually we saw the damn thing over the last hill.  We made it!

Proof!

At the Cross, the four of us shared celebratory Snickers, vodka, and homemade Georgian wine.  The view down to Mestia through the clouds made the whole thing worth it, one hundred times over.

We also made friends with the world's coolest dog, who ended up sticking with us (especially Mark) for the rest of the day.  He was awesome!

After this, things got a little... surreal.  See, I was all for heading back down the mountain, to be in Mestia with something hot warming me up well before dark.  But first Mark and then the Davids started talking about going further on... and eventually I agreed.  Mark gave me a high-five. :)

The Cross is right at the treeline, which means that hiking further on brings you well and truly above the treeline.  The landscape was so alien, with everything around us so silent and still.  I felt like we could have been on another planet.

People manage to live here!

Leaving the trees behind...  

Gives "running to the grocery store" kind of a new meaning, doesn't it?

 The afternoon was getting on, so we only made it about 45 minutes further past the Cross.  But we got far enough to pretty much make it to the snowline, which was completely badass.

Mark looks like he's about to see what's on the other side...

We agreed to turn around at 5:00.  I can't speak for the others, but I know I was pretty much coming to the end of my strength.  Fortunately, downhill is easier, right?  Um, wrong.

Mountain snow lit up by the setting sun.

I have crappy knees, courtesy of bad genes and exacerbated by a couple martial arts injuries during my younger, feistier days.  Two and half hours of stumping steeply downhill, among wet leaves, slick mud, and loose stones makes for extremely unhappy joints.  It wasn't long before going down began to suck about as much as coming up, and it didn't help that we were all bone-tired.  Plus, full dark set in while we still had a ways to go down the mountain.  I limped into Mestia using the flashlight on my cell phone to keep from killing myself.

The four of us grabbed a quick, very quiet dinner at a local cafe, then dragged our exhausted selves back to Nest Hostel.  I took a very-much required hot shower, then prepared to join the others on the balcony for another round of drinks and cards.  In fact, I sat on the edge of my bunk for a good fifteen minutes, trying to psych myself up for this activity.  Then I curled up with my kindle and a single drink before turning off the light and sleeping like a stone.  Sometimes I make good choices. :)

The next morning, we woke up to pouring rain yet again.  The plan was to do another hike to a glacier, but the raid plus a body that was not in the least bit okay with yesterday's activities, made this plan unlikely.  Mark, the Davids and I began to talk about leaving that day, a day early.  And then David Two negotiated passage for the four of us on a marshutka full of 12th graders from Batumi.  They were leaving in 20 minutes.

Whirlwind packing, paying the hostel, saying goodbye to Julie who was staying the extra day anyway, and we ended up packed tight into a minibus full of boisterous, singing 12th graders and their teachers.  I sat up front with said teachers, and soon my day was improved with coffee, chacha, chocolate, crackers, and a strange orange Georgian fruit that looks kind of like a pepper but has flesh kind of like a peach.  An hour into the trip, we made a pit stop to look at Archangel Church.

Then, near Zugdidi, we stopped again to take a look at Enguri Edge Dam.  The water really is that magnificent blue-green color.

Only picture of all four of us from the weekend!

And then, not long after that, we stopped a third time to have a picnic along the side of the road.  Lots of good food and many shots of chacha!

We said farewell to the Davids in Zugdidi.  And then, finally, they dropped me off in Poti, less than 50 feet from my very own front door.

I cannot say enough good things about these folks.  To take in four grubby expat strangers, and treat them with such incredible warm hospitality.  There are times when the generosity and friendliness of the Georgian people just blows me away.

And so ended my weekend adventure over the Edge of the Wild.  I loved Svaneti, but also knew that it would very probably be a harder life than I would ever choose if given the chance.  I have nothing but awed respect for the Svans who make their homes and families in such a raw, unforgiving environment.  Svaneti offers tough love, and breeds a tough people.  I hope to make it back someday, and tackle another mountain.