A Brief Update

Firstly, it has been a while since I have posted, so there is probably much information I will omit in this blog post, however, it just means I will return to America with more stories you haven't already read here.

Anecdote 1: Dan Learns how to Ski 

The first weekend in March was long because of International Women's Day and Mother's Day falling just a few days apart.  Dan and I went to Bakuriani, a trip I have been looking forward to since we came here.  Georgia is tucked neatly between the upper and lower Caucuses--with 80% of it's territory mountainous.  North of Tbilisi is Gudauri, the ski resort featured in the New York Times travel section just a few days before we left.  This resort is for the Europeans, and other travelers with deep pockets, whereas Bakuriani is for those of us on a Georgian budget.  We found a home stay for 10 Lari a piece per night! (This is an excellent rate.)  It had a kitchen attached and the woman who ran the house even provided us with wood for heating, so it was a great deal.  Also, it was very warm, because we had a little wood burning stove all to ourselves in the room that had very thin metal so it glowed red during the night.

Who needs a night-light when your furnace glows?

Our first day skiing was very windy.  We got to the top of the mountain and were faced with about 60 mph winds and blowing snow.  However, the snow was very lightly packed, fresh, and not icy at all.  It was really great conditions.  I ended up getting a very interesting reverse-goggle suntan, as all my face was covered except my eyes.

The view from the top was quiet stunning.  The next day we went to another hill because the Gondola was closed due to wind.  The views from there were even more amazing.  Unfortunately, my knees were shaking so bad that I only took a few pictures before I had to grab hold of the earth again.  We took a rope tow, me behind Dan in case he fell on the way up. The rope tow goes through the trees so you have no idea how high up you are until you clear the tree line.  It was so a double black diamond.  The wind had taken most of the snow with it so the steepest part was icy.  Just looking down my knees buckled, much less skiing down.  But, like I said, the view was beautiful.

Those tiny buildings just about left-center of the picture are where the run ends.  The itsy-bitsy houses to the right if you follow the line of the trail is where town is.

Keep in mind that Dan was right there at the top of the will with me--on day two of skiing ever. And I'm sure he will use many pleasant euphemisms to paint a very lovely picture of his skiing holiday, but before he does that, let me just tell you that in my entire life, while working in the yard of a hardware store, listening to rap music, watching the movie "Clerks," nor during my brief stint as a sailor have I ever heard anyone drop the "F-bomb" so many times in one day.

Anecdote 2: The Lonely Planet Got One Thing Right


The travel guide I brought with me was published in 2007.  In many places of the world this would pose no obstacle to its usefulness.  However, this is Georgia, and a lot has happened in the last 3 1/2 years.  A few things, though, have not changed, like where Mashrutkas (mini-buses) stop, and "The Supra."

Georgians do not drink wine.  They inhale it through some sort of separate tube in their throat that goes directly to some sort of extra wine-bladder-type organ.  I haven't quite figured out the anatomy of it all yet.  All I know is that it is culturally unacceptable to sip anything.  In fact, you can't even drink until after a toast has been made, and then you have to drink your entire drink.  Toasts are very traditional.  Luckily, I live in a very progressive family and have the privileged of being involved in this predominately male sport.  During Supra, generally women are stuck in the kitchen, snacking on bread and a whole bunch of terribly sweet crap while the men sit around the table and eat entire animals that the women have prepared.  In my family it is all the men and me sitting around the table, eating entire animals, and drinking entire vineyards.

Anyway, back to the toasts.  They are for brothers and sisters, parents, grandparents, small children, your last name and all those that have it, anyone whose birthday it happens to be that day, to memories, to tomorrow, to peace, and for those that have passed.  They never change, they just get rotated in and out.  Then there is the toast for anyone that is leaving the supra early, also for the tamada (the toastmaster), then there is everyone making general toasts about how much they love everyone else.  For the first month or so, I was just there to listen, learn a little Georgian, and drink.  Now I am expected be an active participant, and well, with my limited Georgian, it has gotten a little more complicated.

I want to emphasize that every supra is exactly the same in every house with every family.  Except, when you drink beer.  When you drink beer, you don't have to wait for a toast to drink, you just have to drink more for the toast.  Also, beer toasts are expected to be creative and critical.  All toasts must be ironic.  For example, last night I had my first beer supra and we toasted to Stalin--may he rest in peace, Sarkozy (there were French people over for dinner), the Israeli soccer team (they were playing Georgia that night), cheater wives, cheater husbands, Bush and Pallin.  It was a lot of fun, and instead of there being a tamada, everyone had to take turns doing the toasts.

The third drinking option, and by far the most lethal is Chacha.  Chacha is house made vodka.  Every house is very proud of their product.  My host dad spills some onto his plate and lights it on fire when we have company over just to prove the percentage is above 80, also, sometimes, to prove how easy it is to start house fires.  Also, another thing to note about Supras is that you can't have one drink.  If you drink at all you MUST drink for at least the first three toasts. This means minimum 3 shots of Chacha if it's a light night. Then after that you can kind of slack off and not drink the entire glass--until the last one which must be "bolomde!"

I offer this as an example of the powerful effects of Chacha:

 Anecdote 3: The Cure Is Worse Than the Disease

I have been sick a lot here--always with something upper respiratory-related. I think this has to do with the fact I have never in my life been around cigarette smoke and when Georgians drink, they smoke.

Yet they all have a variety of hypotheses for why I am sick, none of them involving cigarettes.
1) The beer was warm
2) I didn't wear my sweater
3) I didn't wear my jacket
4) I'm not drinking enough chacha
5) I'm drinking too much water. (I'm not kidding)
6) The water I am drinking is colder than room temperature. . .
This list goes on and on.  Basically anything they see me do that is "weird" by Georgian standards is scrutinized.

I have about 30 Moms and 1 Dad here, and they each have a better idea on how to make me well.  (This list is in chronological order.)

1) Chacha.
2) Chacha chased with whole cloves of raw garlic
3) Chacha chased with whole cloves of garlic and pickles
4) Wear an obscene amount of clothing, all the time.
5) Wear a scarf all the time; very tightly. My host mother actually chased me around the house the other morning, trying to strangle me. (With love, of course.)
6) Drink a think solution of lemon and honey
And my all time least favorite:
7) Drink warm FRESH milk mixed with baking soda.
If you can't imagine what this tastes like, go make it RIGHT NOW.

You should all feel a little more caught up on my life here by now, if only slightly.  I'm sure Dan will be posting his rendition of Bakuriani soon, so you can compare notes.

P.S. I'm sure you all already know this already, but I got into grad school and will be moving back to DC!

Also, a few more pictures from the last few weeks:

It was Giorgi's birthday last Monday.  He turned 11.

The sign says "khortsi" which means meat.

The strollers for rent had little skis attached to them. 

Dan emotionally preparing for his first day on the slopes.