Cabin Fever

I have it.

This awful, freezing winter weather is making me crazy.  I made myself go for a long walk today and it helped my mood and general well-being considerably.  Think maybe I should try to force myself to walk every day as long as weather permits, even if it is hovering around freezing.  I walked all around my little Village on the Edge of the City, and found my way up a hill to a church I'd been eyeing in the distance since I got here.  It is always hella complicated to get anywhere in Georgia (or Tbilisi), so my geographic win coupled with free entertainment for two hours really made my day.  On our tiny little Main Street, I found a lot of really awesome fruit and produce sellers -- there even was a pineapple!  One of the things I have learned to accept as a constant in Georgia is that I will be solely responsible for my own nutrition.  My host family feeds me, of course, but fruit and veggies are usually conspiculously absent, especially in the winter.  Fresh produce in Poti was harder to come by, but I have to wonder at my Tbilisi family's consistent omission when there really are perfectly acceptable choices nearby.  But oh well.  I bought two small apples and an orange.  Maybe I'll bring home some carrots and squash next time as a present and see what they do. :)

One of the things I miss about Poti is the ability to walk everywhere.  That sentence is important, because I do miss Poti, much more than I ever expected I would.  I miss Mark and Julie quite a lot -- they filled the role of my travel companions and dinner buddies and general partners in crime for the entirety of my stay in Georgia, at least until I made the move to Tbilisi.  I miss the rest of our small, pretty tight expat community as well, and I really miss being able to call one of those folks up at random during the course of an afternoon or an evening, and meet for a 1.20 lari beer an hour later.

Everything is more expensive in Tbilisi, everything takes (a lot) longer to get to, and our expat community is so big and so spread out compared to the nine of us in little Poti.  All that wraps up to a package of "everything is just a little more difficult."  I love this city and am incredibly happy to be here, but I do miss a certain simplicity and comfortableness.  I miss daily exercise from walking or my bike.  Come to that, I miss my bike, the mighty Bee.  I miss the Black Sea.  I've always hated being so far away from open water.

And I miss my host family.  I knew that I would, and I do.  I was so completely fortunate to be able to live with a family who took the time to include me in so many Georgian activities and traditions.  Thanks to them I feel like I got a picture of Georgian life that I might not otherwise have had.  Here in Tbilisi, things are just done a little differently.  I like my new family and situation just fine, but I miss walking into my Poti family's large kitchen and finding a spontaneous supra about to begin.  I miss watching them make churchkhela and pelamushi.  I even miss feeding logs to their big wood-burning stove that provided all our heat once it started getting chilly.  I miss my Nana's sharp deadpan wit, Eldari's very particular laugh, and the conversations I used to have with Nata.

I don't miss the Mexican soap operas dubbed in Georgian.  Just sayin'.  Also don't miss freezing my tuckus off in any part of the house that wasn't the kitchen, or sharing my bedroom with a mouse!  But hey -- and I'm realizing the true extent of this now that I am in Tbilisi -- no one can say I didn't get the true Georgian experience while in Poti.  And for that, I am grateful.

But -- here I am living the second half of my Georgian year exactly as I would have wanted it, with easy access to all of eastern Georgia, plus mayonnaise-free pizza.  No regrets, then or now!

I do need to get out more.  My cabin fever is calling up all sorts of former activities and making me itch to do them again.  Yoga and pottery are both at the forefront of my mind for some reason these days.  With all the expats in Tbilisi, there must be a yoga studio somwhere... but then of course here I am in middle-of-nowhere Vashlijvari.  I must find out where bus 27 goes.

Book Reviews

Grah, I have been having such a hard time sinking my teeth into anything recently.  Right now I am pushing my way through The Way of Shadows by Brent Weeks, which is strictly mediocre and I am trying to force myself to continue mainly because I don't want to stop yet another novel halfway through, rather than for any real concern for the characters or outcome.  But I guess in this regard, Weeks is doing better than Dan Brown, because I can't think of a thing that could inspire me to pick up Deception Point after I gave up on it 57% of the way through the other day.  That's what I get for reading Dan Brown I suppose.

On a friend's recommendation, earlier in December I read The Magicians, by Lev Grossman.  In the spirit of honesty, what bothered me the most about the novel is that I didn't think of it first.  Grossman shamelessly takes from the benchmarks in the fantasy genre, notably Harry Potter and the Narnia series.  It's every bedtime fantasy I've ever had since my Dad first showed me Star Wars.  Magic is real, and among us, and if you're lucky you'll get whisked away to a place where real-world problems will never bother you again.

I say "take" specifically, because that was how it felt to me.  It wasn't borrowing gently, with love.  I didn't feel this book was meant to be a homage to great pillars of the fantasy genre.  I don't know exactly how to put it.  It seemed... vaguely unfriendly.  I know that doesn't make much sense, but I'm trying to describe a nebulous gestalt feeling that nagged me throughout the reading.  Maybe I just didn't like C.S. Lewis's world being so casually ripped off.

Certainly the characters are hardly a credit to their talents, but then, this would probably be exactly how young people would behave if given access to almost limitless power, to a life entirely without consequence.

The Magicians is an interesting dark twist to the Narnia story, and I will say one thing -- I definitely did not ever feel the drag to put it down halfway through.  The ending is meh though.  I give it a seven out of ten.  Maybe a 6.5. 


While in Okinawa, I happily availed myself of my sister's bookshelf, and came away with two reads in particular that stuck with me, for very different reasons.

The first is Lost in Planet China, by J. Maarten Troost.  I am such a tremendous sucker for travel writing, and it's one genre in which my kindle is lacking, so this was a very happy find.  The premise:  writer Troost decides to embark on a long tour of China to see if it's an acceptable country in which to move his family.  He never comes out and actually says definitively yay or nay, but I have to infer from his overarching impressions that he decided not to.  Frankly, after reading this book, I don't particularly want to go to China.

Troost spends a lot of time talking about the abysmal air pollution in China.  A lot.  And it's kind of scary.  Something like a third of the pollution in the Sierra Nevada mountains comes from China?  Maybe it's even a higher number, but the book is back in Oki and I don't particularly feel like googling it.  Anyway, the pollution is bad.  And apparently the Chinese government has not the slightest inclination to deal with it.  (This is all Troost, btw.  This is a book review, not a commentary on China.)

Troost travels all over China... Beijing, Hong Kong, Shenzhen, and lots of other places whose names I forget, and again, the book is in Oki.  He also goes to Tibet, which is kind of like my personal Everest in terms of world travel.  Someday...

The writing is funny, sarcastic, and engaging.  He kind of reminds me of me, if I can have some momentary hubris.  I, however, would not choose to eat live squid,  which this author does.  His observations are stark and bullshit-free, and he's certainly not above the self-effacing anecdote to give his travel stories a little spice.  China is maybe not presented in the most positive light, but I believe that he wrote China as he experienced it.  I recommend it to anyone with the inscratchable travel bug, or anyone interested in Asian current events.  Or anyone who appreciates a good laugh.


I also read Stolen by Lucy Christopher.  This book pissed me off so comprehensibly, I cannot even tell you.  But hey, I'll try.  First things first, Christopher must be a big fan of that inspiring literary opus, Twilight, because the premise is exactly freaking the same.  "Normal" girl gets swept off her feet and taken by a mysterious man with beautiful eyes into a foreign, dangerous environment, where said stalker/kidnapper is the only thing keeping her safe from the trouble he got her into.

In Stolen, the main character, Gemma, gets kidnapped from an airport in Bangkok and ends up in the Australian desert.  Pretty ridiculously implausible, but whatever.  It's a story.  Her kidnapper, Ty, admits to stalking her (in England, no less), since she was a little girl.  To sum things up, Gemma gets Stockholm Syndrome in about ten minutes.  Ty is "older," he is "enigmatic."  His eyes are a "piercing blue."  The fact that he is crazy, a complete sociopath, and an international felon all seem to be fairly minor inconveniences.  Because hey, he likes to paint and can tame camels.  Cool, huh?

Gemma makes a few very poorly thought out and weak escape attempts, I will give her that.  But in the writing, it's obvious that the author wants you, the reader, to want Gemma to be found again by her captor.  She wants you to want Gemma to stay.  She wants you to hold your breath, waiting for the moment when Gemma finally succumbs, and they kiss. 

And you know what?  I think that message is not only fucked up, but dangerous.

Let me tell you how I would have written my heroine who had found herself in a similar situation.  Given that her captor is delusional enough to think that Gemma will eventually come around and want to stay in his miserable desert hovel with no air conditioning or beer, I would have her take advantage of this.  I would have her wait until he is asleep, knock him soundly on the head, and then tie him to the bed and wait until he got thirsty enough to tell her which direction to drive for the nearest settlement, how long it will take, and how much extra fuel she will need to carry.  She would make him draw her a map.  She would leave him tied with only enough water for a few days, telling him that when she reached the settlement, she would tell the authorities where he was so they could rescue him.  But if he lied to her about where the settlement was or how long it would take to get there, he would die.

Implausible, sure.  But hey, it's a story.  And at least this girl wouldn't have lost her cojones somewhere over the Pacific.

Unfortunately, Gemma doesn't do this.  In fact, her weapon of choice when she finally makes her move is -- wait for it -- a sewing needle.  She drives off into the desert with no map, no directions, and no water.  It would be hilarious except for the fact that kidnapping young girls and trafficking them across continents is so utterly and completely not funny.

The only thing, and I do mean the only thing, that redeems this sad tale of female frailty and dumbness (and of male dominance and superiority) is that Gemma eventually gets herself snakebit and Ty finally agrees to take her to a town so she won't die. The Good Guys catch him, and Ty is put in jail awaiting trial.  Cool beans.

Except that the story ends with Gemma and her Stockholm Syndrome wondering if she just might lie (or turn the truth a little, same difference) to the judge in hopes of getting him a reduced sentence.  Because, you know.  He was so darn interesting, and artsy and had pretty eyes.  He had that bad childhood and all.  And he didn't let her die from a snakebite.  He decided not to cross over from stalker and kidnapper to murderer.  What a find.

Bitch, please.

Just so I can put this out there -- because God after reading this book I think it needs to be said -- kidnapping is never fucking okay.  Taking a woman, taking anyone, against their will and holding them against their will is not okay.  It's not romantic and it's not fun.  It's not some sort of coming-of-age learning experience.  It doesn't matter if your deranged brain thinks you are "saving" her.  It doesn't even matter if you don't rape her, although of course that is a mark in your favor.  These are facts, and they don't change, ever.  For any reason.  Writing a story that glamorizes this is also not okay.  That bit's just my opinion, but I'll stand by it with everything I have.

Endorsements!

Yes yes... I have done one measly day out of 26 for my Okinawa vacay.  But old news will stay old news, and I wanted to let you know about a couple Tbilisi experiences I've had recently that I highly recommend!

First, I had a very excellent afternoon and evening earlier this week, bar-hopping with my good friend and super human being David One.  We had lunch at Ronny's Pizza, in Saburtalo near the Medical University metro stop.  Highly recommended!  It is actually run by an American couple, so the pizza is the way it should be and not all weird and covered in mayo like most Georgian pizza.  After lunch, David and I found ourselves at the American-themed expat bar Buffalo Bill's -- that place is freaking EXPENSIVE when you're not on a hedonistic, "this is my summer vacation, what the hell" kick.  Left after one drink... even their cheapest beer was eight lari!!

American flag in the background.  Represent.

Next we found ourselves at a Georgian place that unfortunately I did not get the name of, but it is directly across the street from the Rustaveli metro and has a giant barrel surrounding the door, so easy to find.  Another place I recommend wholeheartedly.  Extensive menu, friendly staff, really cute rustic wood decor, and their beer was only two lari.  That is more like it.

David doesn't like beer so I had to help him with that bottle of vodka.  What are friends for?

We left the Georgian place and wandered down Rustaveli... and passed the Tbilisi Pantomime Theatre.  They had a show starting in seven minutes, and the tickets were only 5.50 lari each!  Seriously check these guys out!  Their show was completely entertaining, and of course mime means that not knowing the language was not a barrier in the slightest.  It's a tiny theatre so pretty much any seat is a good seat, and the show lasts a little over an hour, which is a plus if you happen to have a small bladder and have been drinking all afternoon.

Back out on the street, we commenced our wanderings once again, and once again didn't get far.  Stopped into another Georgian place (no name again, sorry) that had very upscale decor and friendly staff that spoke good English.  David and I shared a bottle of Georgian champagne.  I am such a pushover for wine with tiny bubbles.

Later in the evening I got a surprise, and David Two joined us along with David One's friend Mary.  So... two Davids and two Marys.  Kewl.  Good conversation and general hanging out... it was David Two's last night in Tbilisi before he headed home, so I was really happy I got the chance to say goodbye.


THEN... a few days ago my friend Pauli got back from her trip home, and at her suggestion we fought off Tbilisi's ridiculous winter chill by visiting the Tbilisi Sulphur Baths!

There are several options for sulphur baths, all right next to each other.  We chose this one, with the blue mosaic entrance.  Private baths are all located on the bottom level -- the nice lady at the front desk spoke English and let us check the place out before we plunked down our cash.  A "small cabin" (totally fine for two and probably three or even four) was 20 lari each, per person.  Not bad.  We also decided we wanted a 'massage', which is more exfoliation and then a scrubbing, and that was quoted to us as being an additional 10 lari each.  (This ended up be 14 instead of ten -- not sure if we got the Foreigners Markup or if there was some service that the desk lady forgot to include, but whatever.)  I bought a big bottle of beer for four lari, and that brought the entire experience to 38 lari for one hour.  So... maybe a little pricey, but of course you can get that down by losing the beer and the scrubbing.  I will say that both of those greatly added to the experience, however.  (Even if beer may not be your thing, I DO really recommend bringing a bottle of water or something.  You'll be glad you did.  It is hot in there.)

This is the inner room of our Small Cabin.  You can see how much steam is in the air!  The outer room had a small table where we left our clothes.  Oh yeah... this makes the third country in a row where I have gotten naked in front of friends and strangers. :)  The pool is a very hot bath about four feet deep... natural sulphur-infused water continually seeps up through cracks in the rocks.  There's a drain near the top of the pool, so the water is continually being refreshed which is good.  The marble slab is where we got our Georgian Lady Scrubbing.  To the left are two shower spigots where we rinsed off before getting back in the tub for soaking.

I would totally do this again... even by myself.  20 lari to soak in a steamy hot tub for an hour seems like a bargain, especially since this Tbilisi winter is apparently much colder than normal!  Lucky me.

I'm really happy that I'm starting to get to experience more of what is uniquely Tbilisi.  The weather has been such shite that spending time outside is really more like a punishment than anything else.  But having such a good time at the Pantomime Theatre, I'm even more motivated to see Tbilisi's Puppet Theatre and maybe another Georgian opera.  There are a few museums I haven't checked out yet as well...

I'm hoping to take a weekend trip to Gori and the cave city of Uplistsikhe in early February once I get paid again.  Tbilisians, let me know if this strikes your fancy -- the departure of Mark and Julie (miss them!!) means I am in the market for new excellent travel companions.

And I can't forget that it's getting really quite close to that time when I'm going to have to decide what I want to do next....

The best present

It's 5:30 PM, Okinawa Time, and I'm watching a small but determined cockroach zoom his way around the Naha airport cafe.  I had been writing in my journal and sipping on a can of Orion beer, but now I am simply watching in mildly horrified fascination while idly wondering if the cursory napkin swipe I gave to the mouth of my can was indeed sufficient as a sanitary precaution.

The cockroach is making a beeline for the refuge under my suitcase.  This is exactly where I do not want him to be, so I ease up out of the plastic seat and inch forward -- the Squeamish Hunter in Pursuit.

A quick toe tap and its all done.

Except now I have the twitchy squished remains of my late cockroach to stare at, while scanning the floors and walls for any relatives.  My skin prickles and my imagination illustrates.  I sigh.  Once again I am forced to remind myself exactly how far I still am from the gritty, backpack-toting world traveler I want to be.  Equilibrium destroyed by inch-long cockroach.  I think again about the email I recently received, inviting me to apply for a teaching job in Korea.  I wonder if there's a checkbox on the medical form for "Unreasonable Roach Phobia".

Of course, it is nothing but a good thing that I reluctantly begin to pack up a little early, because I suddenly realize that I have managed to forget something quite vital, and spend the next 15 minutes frantically circling the various airport shops and kiosks, buying all the gifts for my host family that really should not have waited until this last of last minutes.

My flight leaves in little over two hours.  Once again I am on the move.

Only this time I am dragging my suitcase, laptop bag, oversized purse, and unnecessary raincoat towards Check-In with a considerably heavier heart than I remember from airports of recent past.  Just 90 minutes ago I gave my last wave at a departing Rav-4.  And that was that.  26 days.  Six months in the planning, two years in the wanting.  Time for another page.

Inside my journal, I have carefully recorded the events of each day I spent on Okinawa.  The idea was that these hastily scratched notes were to serve as a spur to memory later down the road.  I can think of nothing worse than losing the fragmented mosaic that made up my short time on this island, and at the time of recording, I thought I was doing a fairly good job.  But now, settled firmly in seat 5C, having been reminded that my seat cushion can be used as a flotation device and that I should secure my own oxygen mask before helping others, I page through my entries of the past month and already they seem painfully inadequate.  December 25, 2011 is barely more than a page.  One page.  I couldn't do a little better than that?
___________________________________________________

"Mary...wake up.  It's Christmas..."  Eve has my bedroom door cracked and is calling softly.  I can hear the smile in her voice.
The night before I had issued the usual standing request of 'Wake me up when you get up,' because otherwise it is entirely possible that the day will be half over before I emerge.  But actually this morning I am already half awake, drowsily watching the thin winter sunlight filter across the walls that are the same cheerful yellow that Eve had requested for her bedroom when she was a little girl.
I roll over and grin. "Morning Sweetie."
Eve leaves me to make the final transition to horizontal on my own time.  Down the hall, I can hear Christmas music that she had obviously waited to play until I was up.

I shuffle down the hall to the smell of coffee.  Georgians have this insane idea that "coffee" is something that is instantly dissolved in hot water, and served black with sugar.  There have been few things as wonderful during this vacation than the ability to step up to Eve's space-age coffee machine and present it with an oversized Christmas-themed mug where it is filled as if by magic.  Add a (very) liberal pour of International Cafe caramel machiato creamer and top it off with an equally generous squirt of whipped cream.  Heaven.  Georgia, I love you, but you could really stand to pick up some tips about coffee.

Mug in hand, I make it into the living room without killing the kitten -- on accident or on purpose.  Jade's 100% favorite game is to launch herself at your ankles while you are walking.  It's pretty cute, until you accidentally boot her ten feet and she looks at you like she knows you did that intentionally, and now the game is REALLY on.  (It's also not tremendously cute when she connects, btw -- all ten front claws and two rows of emerging, perfectly sharp baby teeth.)  God made kittens adorable for a reason.

"Merry Christmas everyone!"  Eve, Brad, and I position ourselves around the living room, each taking our own couch so as to have enough room to stack our loot.  Everyone traditionally always does very well on Christmas in my family, and this year is no exception.  Keeping traditions is important, after all.

Behold our glorious mess.

Fortunately out holiday traditions cover more than presents.  One of the most sacred family traditions is unquestionably our breakfast, which is baked French toast with peaches.  This year I am able to demonstrate my boundless love for my family by volunteering to cook the bacon, and so willingly offer my hands, arms, and face to the whims of exploding bacon fat for the next 20 minutes.  But as any lover of bacon can tell you, first-degree burns are an accepted and quite acceptable price to pay for delicious delicious bacon.

Breakfast warrior

We pop some champagne for mimosas, and then when that runs out we open a very excellent prosecco I had found in a wine shop in Mihama.  I look around the table at my two companions -- Eve and Brad -- and once again am bowled over by the simple and uncomplicated feeling of gratitude.  At this moment, I am simply the luckiest person I can think of.

We also play with the hedgehog.

After breakfast, Eve retreats with the kitten to take a nap, Brad reads his new music books and I put together my new Star Wars lego set -- a present from my Dad.  Ever since several years ago when I lamented that adulthood meant that I no longer got cool fun toys for Christmas, he has made sure to get me at least one cool fun toy every year.  Thanks Dad.

It is time for next important phase of the day -- preparing Christmas Dinner.  I happily assume my position of sous chef to Eve's uncontested reign of her kitchen.  The menu features roast turkey with turkey sausage stuffing, green bean casserole and scalloped potatoes.  Modest when compared to the mammoth spreads of dinners of old, but there are only three of us after all.  Four if you count Jade, who would soon develop an instant and very insistent addiction to roast turkey.

The music of the hour is Florence + the Machine... new to me but a favorite for my two hosts, especially my sister.  Florence sings her heart out to us as Eve and I approach our 11-pound dead bird with distinct trepidation.   Raw turkey is gross.

But finally the bird is stuffed and safely in the oven, and for the moment, there is nothing for the sous chef to do.

Winter in Okinawa means that the temperature on this fine Christmas day hovers in the high 60s.  I take my glass of prosecco and go out to the balcony, loving the gentle coolness of the afternoon.  Every winter should be this temperature.  Down on the grass, kids are playing with their Christmas toys.  Florence is singing like a siren -- it's one of the first times I've heard the album and don't know the lyrics, I have no idea what most of the songs are even about.  But I love her voice and the ethereal beauty of her music.  At this moment she is belting out that "It's all right.  That's all right!"  And that, my dear lovely Florence, is exactly how I feel.

(Of course, later I would look up the lyrics, listen to the song again and again, because by then I will have fallen in love with it as I'll have with all her songs, and find out that actually it isn't all that apt for a laid-back, pajama-wearing family Christmas when all is well.  But that would be later.  This is now.  And that's all right.)

But now breaktime is over.  I go back in to help with the string beans and potatoes.  So many onions, garlic, herbs.  Butter to melt and potatoes to slice.  Cream cheese and french onions.  Ours is not a particularly health-conscious holiday.  Finally, there's some geometrical negotiating needed to get the casseroles both in the oven along with the giant turkey.  And our work is done.

We open more wine, put out crackers and cheese, and pass the time while everything cooks by watching Captain America, which my father had also given me for Christmas.  And then, for some reason, we decide to watch Conan the Barbarian.  The original.  With Arnold.  Eve is unimpressed, and we soon turn it off, although not before this MSK3K-worthy gem.

Conan's jailer:  Conan, what is good in life?
Conan:  To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women.
Eve:  Oh good.
Me: (A few minutes later)  I never understand why they just let him go here for no reason.
Eve:  He gave the right answer at dinner.
I guess that makes as much sense as anything else.

And then, we eat.  (There's a small regrettable moment when my totally innocent suggestion almost results in the string bean casserole catching on fire, but fortunately my sister has an excellent nose.  So no harm done.  We shall speak of it no more.)

Dinner is, of course, completely amazing.  Afterwards, we watch Forgetting Sarah Marshall.  My parents call on skype and we get to wish them a Merry Christmas.  And then Eve and Brad go to bed.  I, of course, stay up and read a National Geographic Japan travel book on the balcony.

And that, my friends, was my Okinawa Christmas.  Spent with my beautiful, wonderful sister, my awesome brother in law, a kitten and a hedgehog.  Whoever would have thought life would be so much fun?

Speaking out against SOPA and PIPA

I'm sure you've all heard about the SOPA and PIPA bills that will soon come for debate on the Senate floor.  These bills, in a word, suck.  They are utterly detrimental, support censorship, and put power in the hands of big corporations.  As you've probably noticed, I stay far away from politics on this blog, but these two pieces of legislation have the power to affect this blog and every other website out there.  If somehow you are first hearing this from me, I recommend you visit wikipedia -- a free, unbiased online information source that these bills could censor! -- for info on SOPA and PIPA.

So, I wrote a letter to my senators.  And now I'm posting it here.  I'm recommending that you write your own letters to your own senators.  Because these bills have the power to change pretty much everything that's cool about the internet.  And frankly, that's just crap.
__________________________

Dear Senators Warner and Webb,

My name is Mary -------------, and I have been a Virginia resident for the past 27 years.  I attended both college (James Madison) and grad school (George Mason) in Virginia.  Currently, I am volunteering overseas in the country of Georgia, teaching English to young people.  It is rewarding work and I am looking forward to returning to Virginia once my contract is up.

I am writing to you to protest the two bills currently under consideration in Congress -- the Stop Online Piracy Act (HR 3261) and the Protect Intellectual Property Act (S 968).  Before volunteering in Georgia, I worked for almost five years at a Government Relations firm in DC.  I am not a stranger to interpreting legislation, and it is my firm opinion that both these bills are not only ineffective at achieving their stated goals, but also dangerous.

As an American living overseas, I am even more dependent than most Americans on the internet for my news, my entertainment, and for keeping in touch with loved ones.  These two bills as they are currently written stand to impact my quality of life considerably -- without, as I have previously stated -- effectively achieving any of the altruistic aims it purports to support.  It puts power in the hands of large corporations and discriminates against small businesses and user-generated sites.  I am hardly alone in my position, both among my fellow volunteers here in Georgia and among thousands of Americans at home who depend on the internet to provide them with unbiased, fair, honest and accurate information on a daily and even hourly basis.  Please do not deprive America of this invaluable resource, not when the anticipated gains for such a sacrifice will be virtually nil.

For these reasons, I urge you strongly to vote against SOPA and PIPA.  I thank you very much for your time and attention to this matter, and hope that you will hear the voice of Virginians and the American people, and do the right thing.

Best,
Mary ------------------

Konichiwa!

Hello my dear ones.  I have not forgotten you.  But I guess I ended up unofficially deciding to take a semi-break from the online world during this past month, a month in which I was having a truly unforgettable and once-in-a-lifetime experience with two people I love very much.  Quite a lot to share with you too... castle ruins and Christmas and underground rivers and New Year's and horseback rides on the beach.  We met the Green Power Ranger.  I ziplined across gorges and helped with hedgehog and kitty bathtime.  We hiked and laughed and talked and mixed delicious cocktails.  Usually while cooking I don't know how many awesome dinners, lunches, and breakfasts.  We caught up on all the movies I'd missed out on over the past eight months.  I found some incredible new music and tried grilled octopus and stuck my feet in a tank with flesh-eating fish before getting nekkid with my sister and a bunch of Japanese ladies.

All true.

But for now, all you really need to know is that this happened.

How do you like my supersweet pajama pants btw?

Tonight, this entry is really just a teaser trailer to let you know that yes, the epic blog entries to come really will be worth the wait.  But most importantly because, although I am WAY too tired to go into much detail at the moment (30-hour door-to-door trips are a beeyotch), I wanted to go on record and say yes -- it happened.  I got that hug from a particular sister that was two years in coming.  So thanks you two, for the time of my life.

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.