"This is a very special time for you."

To tell this story right I'm going to have to set the stage by telling another story...

A couple of months ago, I began tutoring a very bright, wholly remarkable young Georgian girl whom I will call "Blair" due to her love of the American series Gossip Girl.  After one of our sessions last week, which we do at her house, her parents invited me to stay for dinner.

It turned out to be an incredibly delicious meal accompanied by a bottle of excellent Georgian wine.  We discussed the family's travels abroad, my own travels, my future plans (or lack thereof), and art.  Near the end of the meal, Blair's father gives me a calendar featuring the modern artwork of Georgian artist Levan Lagidze. 


One of the truly awesome things that Blair's family does for me (besides inviting me to dinner and giving me art) is to pick me up and take me home for each lesson.  Today, when I get in the car Blair says she wants to take me to Levan Lagidze's gallery, in Vake.  Of course I say okay.

The gallery is exactly what a gallery should be -- bright and airy and showcases an excellent representation of his work.  As I walk in the door and look around, I am greeted by an older man with a mobile face and eyes that smile.  He mistakes me for an American friend of a friend.  Once that is cleared up, I ask: "Are you the artist?"  Of course, he is.

Levan says hello to Blair; he and his wife are friends with her parents.  His English is surprisingly good.  I ask him about his method and he explains about painting layers upon layers, then removing sections or stripes of those layers to reveal what is underneath.  I tell him, quite honestly, that I love his work and his style.

Near the back of the gallery is a lovely painting of blues, whites, yellows, and maybe a little green.  It is labeled "Makkondo."  I ask him if the name is taken from Macondo in 100 Years of Solitude, and he says:

"Yes, of course.  It is a beautiful book."
"I've only started reading it recently, as a matter of fact.  Maybe 20% of the way through."
"Ah, you are reading it now for the first time?"
"Yes, and I like it very much so far."
"Then this is a very special time for you.  Reading this book for the first time is an unforgettable experience.  A joy."

At this point, we are invited into the back area, where Levan's wife serves coffee, OJ, lobiani and khachapuri, along with seasoned crackers and hazelnuts.  On the mounted flatscreen, he shows us photos of his recent art opening in Kuwait.  I tell Levan that his work reminds me of a sort of geometrical blending of Mark Rothko and Jackson Pollock, and his smiling eyes smile a little warmer.

We talk about modern art vs. postmodern, about installation vs. exhibit.  Blair tells us about her friend who wrote her CV as a poem and sent it to premiere art schools around the globe along with photos of her work.  Levan asks me what I studied in school, and when I say English he is surprised that I never studied art.  I reply that I just really like going to the Smithsonian a lot.  He agrees that the Smithsonian is wonderful, but says he prefers the galleries in New York.  He asks me to stop by the gallery from time to time and work with him on his English.  I reply, with the utmost sincerity, that it would be a pleasure.


As I prepare to enter into what was always supposed to be my last months in Georgia, it does seem that little vignettes of serendipity just like this one are popping up in my path.  Looking at things from a purely practical standpoint, I am certainly not lacking for work opportunities here (recently had to turn down an offer to teach little ones on Saturdays), and so far my inquiries into opportunities elsewhere have yet to get any real response, which has been disheartening.

And a little voice keeps whispering "You could always stay here, you know."

Oh, I am coming home for the summer.  Barring a global crisis of WWIII proportions, I can't think of a thing that would stop me.  But I'm not ready yet to leave behind the Neverland of expat-ness and come home to grow up.  And even if one of my inquiries does end up garnering a response, I've yet to find another program that offers such a comprehensive package as the one offered by TLG.

This is a very special time for me.  Coming out of my winter cocoon of grouchiness, I need to remember that.  It would be foolish to shut this book purely because I've had to suffer through a crappy chapter.

Life, Rollin' Along

Hello, loyal blogosphere!

Life is continuing to happen here in Tbilisi -- I finally got over my intestinal distress last week, which turned out to be something called Enteritis.  For real, I think my body is trying to see how many "-itises" it can rack up in a 13.5 month period.  It's not funny, body.  Quit.

But yeah.  Long working days four days a week, then one short working day and two nights of stimulating Tbilisi's economy, one Natakhtari at a time.  Sunday has become my Day of Rest.  I had this weird epiphany a few days ago, that somehow my life in Georgia started looking a whole lot like my life in America.  In a lot of ways that's a good thing -- for example, I have discovered Entree, a simply heavenly cafe that serves actual sandwiches and actual salads, as well as pastries and coffeehouse coffee.  Completely delish, but money spent on eating out has greatly increased recently.

But I realized that it's been a little bit since I've done anything really Georgian.  One thing about living in Poti, my host family there was always cooking up a supra or going to a wedding (or once, a funeral) or inviting me out to see free concerts of Georgian dancing in the park.  Now, I love living in Tbilisi, eating chicken sandwiches on crusty wheat bread and drinking with cool friends in their very own flat, but my days have been missing a lot of what makes Georgia cool.  This past Friday evening, a friend and I had dinner at an off-the-beaten-path Georgian restaurant -- we ate ojakhuri and kinkhali (and shot some vodka) and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed myself there.  Kind of want to go back. :)  For one thing, beer was hella cheaper than any place downtown!

Also, seriously, must travel.  It's getting redic.  Unless it is pouring rain (or snow!), I think I am definitely getting out next weekend.  Gori or Davit Gareja, anyone?

Speaking of travel -- I got some amazing news last week!  One of my very best friends, my heterosexual lifemate Chris, is coming to visit me next month!!  She is timing her visit with Georgia's Spring Break, and we are going to Armenia together.  I'd be hard pressed to find a cooler travel buddy for my Armenia adventure, and I simply could not be more excited at the idea of showing her Tbilisi.  Although I need to stop going to only expat places and find some awesome Georgian hangouts before she gets here, because "hey look!  This bar is almost like something you'd find in DC!" isn't exactly the kind of Georgian experience a traveler would find particularly exciting.  Guess it's a good thing I think I've finally topped out on this most recent homesickness wave.

Finally -- look!  Someone published something I wrote on the Internet!!  That's right, my very first official TLG blog post went up today.  I don't think this one will exactly win me any awards; it's a "don't forget this" packing list from the girl who definitely brought too much shit with her to Georgia.  Working on a couple posts with more actual substance, and of course I will let you know as soon as my literary brilliance hits the cloud.

All you lucky bastards back home who never had a winter and now apparently are enjoying summer, please send some warm thoughts across the ocean for me!  Dying for t-shirts and flip flops here.

At the end of the road

With the idea that perhaps saturation will eventually lead to catharsis, and also because I really want to see all this loveliness written down, I present to you a list.  (This is specifically the "doing" list.  The "eating" list is forthcoming.)

Things I Absolutely, Positively MUST Do When I Finally Get Home

1. Sit with my folks on the back deck, in front of a chiminea fire, drinking excellent cab sauv and snacking on crackers and cheese
2. Sit with my folks on the back porch with G&Ts and listen to the Prairie Home Companion
3. Take a bubble bath
4. Trip up to New Jersey to visit family
5. Visit Will and Ally at their beautiful home and enjoy their newly renovated outdoor space
6. Epic Ping and Mary Weekend in the City!  (Already being planned... DC is not ready...)
7. Day of winery visits with Matt
8. Hanging out in some capacity (maybe that cool bar in Gainesville with that awesome band?) with Bart and Tara
9. PX with Jeff and Lucy (and others?  Followed by awesomeness at Pat Troy's?)
10. If there is still hockey, watching a Cup game at Bugsy's with assembled relevant personnel (you know who you are!)
11. Some sort of comprehensive friend-gathering event so I can give out 50+ hugs to everyone I have missed
12. Walk around Burke Lake
13. Work in the woodshop with my Dad and succeed in completing a Project
14. Smithsonian Day
15. Trip into Northwest to visit former colleagues and catch up on office gossip (while enjoying champagne on the W's rooftop terrace, natch!)
16. Day in Old Town Alexandria with lunch at Madeline's, a tour of the Torpedo Factory and afternoon river cruise
17. Church (Father Martin represent!) and Farmers' Market with Mom
18. Watch all three original Star Wars movies with my Dad
19. Star Trek TNG EPIC MARATHON OF SUPREME GREATNESS
20. Buffy/Angel marathon
21. Finally watch Bones Season 5
22. Have the neighbors over so I can shock and amuse them with my horror stories
23. Fall asleep on the back porch
24. Visit Fair Lakes Whole Foods (skirting the line into "food" territory here)
25. Get a pedicure
26. Scrabble Night
27. Visit a dentist
28. Dinner and movie in Shirlington
29. Hiking at Great Falls
30. Rockband

Think two months will be long enough!?  It sure as hell better be because not a single item is coming off this list.  And this was just one evening of brainstorming so this list is only going to get longer... I'm sure there are at least 30 things I've forgotten!

Much love to all my peeps back home, especially my awesome Dad who is having a knee replacement tomorrow!  Thinking of you and sending positive healing thoughts across the Atlantic.  I will see you soon!

Self-Imposed Exile

To put it mildly, I have been obsessing about home lately.  I don't even know if what I've been doing qualifies as homesickness.  I think it goes beyond that and crosses over into possible pathological disorder.  I do something like wash my hands in my host family's bathroom and am flooded with images of memories I never even knew I had, washing my hands in various places around my house.  I almost started crying in class today (I am not exaggerating, I had to wipe an actual, literal, tear) because out of nowhere I got this picture-perfect flash of what it will be like meeting my parents at Dulles.  And I think about American food like... All.  The.  Time.  Right now as I type my brain is cycling through possibilities of What I Would Eat Right Now If I Could.  In fact, it does that on some level for most of my waking hours.  Yeah, it's that bad.

Now, I have been quite ill, and as everyone knows sickness can pretty quickly wear down a person's resistance and resolve.  Came down with a bad cold and cough two Sundays ago, which morphed into a terrific stomach flu last Sunday, and is just on its way out today (God I hope so, anyway).  Nothing makes me want my Mom more than a series of 3, 4, and 5 AM staggerings to the toilet with a 102 fever.  Also, that approach of SPRING which I have been so exultantly crowing about since January has yet to make an appearance despite promises from several Georgians.

I am trying to keep my spirits up.  I promise you I am.  I gave myself quite a long and impassioned pep talk last night as a matter of fact.  I want to re-find my mojo and rekindle that excitement about visiting all those places I keep saying I'm going to visit soon.  I am likely going to Armenia in a month.  Armenia.  That's awesome.  How many people do you know who have been to Armenia?

I fear that I just might be... coming to the end of it.  The end of my metaphorical expat strength, although that sounds unnecessarily dramatic.  I struggle to remember to enjoy the extraordinary and remarkable things around me because I know in my heart that I would a jillion times rather be eating tuna noodle casserole and drinking Two Buck Chuck while watching House Hunters International with my parents and dog while wearing my green LL Bean robe and playing Angry Birds on my iPhone.

Back during the summer, when I was having some issues with various things, I wrote in my journal something to the effect of "If you slip into Waiting, that will be it.  Any remaining joy will leech out of this experience, and you will find you have wasted your time here."

That still could not be more true.  In fact, it is truer now than ever, because I am in a new place with new people and have more opportunities than ever before.  With my second job, I have the means to take advantage of these opportunities in a way I couldn't otherwise.  My new host family is great, and I  know very well that I simply could not be placed in nicer accommodations.  I have precious little to complain about (besides recent gastrointestinal explosions) and I still have three more months here.  That's a long time to wish you were somewhere else, especially when I fought so freaking long and hard to get here in the first place.

It's not so long that I can afford to waste any time being unhappy.

Yes, I am aware of the irony.  Also aware that I need to snap the fuck out of this.  I keep trying.  Looking back, it seems I have been trying ever since I got back from Okinawa.  I keep blaming the winter, but how far can that excuse really stretch?

Again, I think I might be just done.  "So long and thanks for all the kinkhali, Georgia."  I don't want that to be true but if it's one thing I know about myself, my heart rarely if ever listens to my head.

My homesickness is so encompassing that it is even affecting my motivation to solidify my next step.  I am researching options across the globe -- mainly Chile, Argentina, and Turkey, but even as I write my cover letters, and mean everything I say, I can't stop thinking about cleaning up the backyard garden with my Dad and then sharing a beer on the wooden swing.  I think about all the birthdays, get-togethers, dinners and Caps game viewings that my friends keep on having without me.  While I am making memories over here, how many memories have I missed?

But the thing is, I know that returning home, for good, will not be the blissful idyllic party that I am so constantly imagining.  And this, unfortunately, becomes the heart of the matter.  As I said in an email last night to a friend: 

"If I give up, and come home for more than just a visit, I will need to get a job.  I do not want a job.  I do not want a job so violently and completely that I would rather voluntarily exile myself to the second world for the foreseeable future than face the possibility of getting another Ursula for a boss."

Of course, when I say job, I am talking about the kind of job I would have to get back in DC.  The very crux of everything I ran so hard from, gave up everything to get away from.  The possibility of going back to THAT?  After only little over a year?  Makes me feel like dying.  It would, in fact, feel exactly like giving up, like the most complete and abject failure of my entire life.

I'm not doing that.

So here I am.  Grimly, teeth-grittingly determined to enjoy these last months in Sakartvelo, and praying that the two months or however long I get before The Next Phase will be anything close to long enough.

Days Like These

Journal Excerpt, 3/2/12

On days like these, it is easy.

On days like these, I had just been granted a spontaneous day off because my school is having electrical problems.  Because I am an old fart and my Tbilisi working days are long, last night I began my just-extended weekend by reading some Dave Barry and turning the light off at 11:30.

Friday morning, I wake up at 10:30 (guess I needed the sleep).  My room is bright with morning sunlight, and this is important because it means that it is not raining like yesterday.  The heat in my host family’s house, which has been out since Tuesday, is working again.  The bathroom is free and there is plenty of hot water.  I take a long shower.  An American-length shower.

The apartment is empty.  At 12:30, I wander into the kitchen and help myself to some leftover roast chicken (a rare wonderful find!) and an apple.  But just as I am sitting down, my host parents come home.  My host Mom shows me the cake she’d baked (I missed it, cleverly disguised in a plastic bag on the counter); my host Dad throws some sausages in a pot and asks (in Georgian, natch) if I would like some beer, because beer is very good with sausages.  I hadn’t been thinking of starting my drinking at 12:30, but you know, why not?  Beer IS very good with sausages.

In addition to the sausages, they’ve come home with fresh cheese and shoti, a sort of chewy flatish bread.  I’ve never been able to get along with Georgian cheese, but shoti I love, and it makes an excellent addition to my rapidly-expanding lunch spread.

My host Mom rarely eats with us, and today is no exception.  But my host Dad sits down with me and pours me a generous mug of Karva.  We talk, in his pidgin-English and my pidgin-Georgian, about the weather.  He asks me my plans for the evening.  I explain that I have some work to do this afternoon, saklishi, but sheidzleba will go out in the evening, after I get it finished.  All conversations with my host parents include charades, and this is no exception.

Lunch is finished.  I take my refilled mug and settle back into my room, grading Midterms and doing a little writing.  Mid-afternoon, I send a text and make a call, and evening plans are finalized.  We’re going to happy hour at one of my new favorite places in Tbilisi – free food and 2-lari beers and one of the best views around.
__________________

On days like these, it is easy to love Georgia, to let all the accumulated frustrations and confusions evaporate like so much ephemera.

Some days, of course, it is not so easy.  Days like the day before I wrote that, when I arrived at my evening job decidedly damp because I’d elected to angle my umbrella so as to protect my laptop bag instead of my actual self.  When my best attempts to control and corral a classroom of exuberant fifth graders ended in defeating, abject failure.  When I walked in and out of five banks before finding one that did not have a ginormous line and would agree to change my 100-lari note into smaller bills without my showing my passport (which I do not carry on me for obvious reasons).  When the woman in the shop stubbornly refused to understand my (increasingly embarrassing) charades for “tissues.”  No, it’s not like I got run over by a car.  But I challenge anyone to maintain a rosy-cheeked disposition after all that nonsense.

Winter is not my favorite season,  and the constant cold since returning from holiday travels (not to mention the only recently-disappeared ice and snow that covered all Tbilisi sidewalks) has tested my love of and enthusiasm for this country.  Winter always tends to make me feel trapped, but never more so than this past season, when snow closed roads and schools and made the prospect of traveling to the store both unpleasant and dangerous, let alone traveling outside the city.  Just forget it.

To put it simply, Georgia is making me grouchy, and my grouchiness had become so all-encompassing that I’m not entirely certain that it was all completely Georgia’s fault anymore.

Sort of a confusing grouchiness chicken-and-egg analogy.  Just go with it.  The point is that, even though there were snow flurries yesterday, it is now March and I am very eagerly anticipating Spring.  This means, of course, that Spring better freaking happen, and Georgians tell me that March can be a very atmospherically schizophrenic month.  Whatevs.  I’m ready to put aside my wool hats and filthy white parka (never, EVER bring a white winter coat to Georgia.  Ever.  I mean it.), and embark on one of those long-awaited weekend trips somewhere.

Getting Out

So -- lovely day trip to Mtskheta aside -- I have yet to "get out" of Tbilisi, thanks to winter and busyness.  But I have come across some pretty cool night spots that I feel are worth sharing.

First and foremost -- Besty's!  I hesitate even to post about this, because the venue is small and it was crowded enough last Friday.  But I just cannot keep silent.  Betsy's is a hotel on the top of a hill (get to it by walking up the street next to the Rustaveli McDonald's) and thus offers some of the best views around.  Their prices are about what you'd expect at an expat hotel, except they have Happy Hour every Friday from 6:00-8:00, and drinks are half price.  Even better, they serve a small buffet of free food every happy hour.  Two Fridays ago it was awesome chicken curry and white rice, and last Friday it was chicken wings and macaroni and cheese.  So this literally means that for under 10 lari you can get something ridiculous like 4 beers plus a yummy western dinner.  Plus the staff is cool and speak good English, and the decor is cozy and chic.  Real wood-burning fireplace!  Clean, modern western bathrooms with toilet paper, soap, and hot water.  Safe to say I will be spending many, many Friday evenings at this amazing place.

Superior view from Betsy's Bar.

This past Friday I met quite a few very cool expats, from a group of Marines who were celebrating a friend's promotion, to a Scottish businessman chatting with a diplomat from the American Embassy.  Come to Betsy's.  Just... don't bring many friends, and behave yourself. :)

The place, apparently, to bring (a whole lot of) friends is where we've ended up the past two evenings after Betsy's, Canudos Ethnic Bar.  Beer here is 3 lari, so not bad.  Getting a beer, however, might prove more of an ordeal than you're willing to go through.  Last Friday night, it was so crowded that I literally had to resurrect my Concert Skills to get from one side of the room to the other.  It was so crowded that I left after one beer rather than attempting to throw myself into the drunken crush in front of Ethnic's tiny bar in hopes of eventually getting a second.  The bathroom is Not Good, and there is only one toilet which inevitably means a line, especially when it's crowded like last time.  Still, music is usually decent, good rock n' roll for the most part, and they don't care if we play beer pong in the back room.  So, pluses and minuses.  Ethnic is the hotspot for meeting expats these days, which means if you are looking for something to do on a Friday or Saturday, chances are decent you'll run into someone you know there.

Cool people living it up at Ethnic -- fellow TLGers Dan, Ryan, Jennifer, and Callie

Another place I recently discovered is Re-Life Cafe, on Chardin.  A quick google search did not reveal a website, but it's across from KGB if that is helpful.  I remember the beer here being a little more expensive -- 4 lari I think, which would explain why Re-Life is extremely popular with expats who aren't TLG.  Chill small place with couches and low tables for chatting, except the music is really too loud for chatting unless you really throw your vocal cords into it.  Bathroom is nice, separate for men and women which means less pee on my toilet seat, especially as the night wears on.  Bonus.  They let us stay over an hour past closing (we didn't know!) before kicking us out, so props to their niceness on that one.

Dani, Suzanne, and me with another cool TLGer whose name I forget.  My bad.

Finally, I went with a whole bunch of TLGers recently to Mirzani Brewery.  We went to the one in Marjinashvili, but Mirzani is a chain so they can be found all over Tbilisi.  Don't be put off by their Chain status!  Being a brewery, they make their own beer, and that means you can get a very decent mug of beer for the enviable price of 1.50 lari, pretty unheard of elsewhere in the Big City.  They also had house wine very reasonably priced, and the wine was decent.  Their food was excellent too and not badly priced.  Highly recommended!

So there you go -- four pretty decent places to get out in the evenings.  I hope you find them as favorable as I do.  Stay tuned... rest assured I will be back with more savvy tips as find them.  Gaumarjos!

Finally, this is not exactly an expat hotspot, but I didn't want to sign off without saying some good things about the wonderful concert I got to go to last night!  One of my private tutoring pupils invited me out to the Nino Katamadze concert last night at the Tbilisi Philharmonic, and of course I accepted with pleasure.  Turns out she had box seats!  So I literally had one of the best seats in the house for this show, and I enjoyed it immensely.  Nino Katamadze is sort of like a Georgian mix of Adele plus Florence + the Machine, so it is no wonder I liked her.  Of course, could not understand a single word, but her voice was incredible and so was the music.  Check her out!