Time Flies!

I always knew the time here would fly, but that knowledge did not prepare for the reality that in a mere week and a half I'll be on a plane headed back to America. Days have slid one into another, some colder than others, some with more excitement. For Thanksgiving I was determined to get a turkey for our meal. We ended up calling half the village to find one. Generally they're raised for the new year so I was a little early at November 24th. Eventually we found a neighbor who was willing to sell me one at a discounted price of 25 GEL (about $16 USD) because it wasn't fully fattened yet. They brought it to the house in a bag.... still alive! So I was able to see it through squawk to sizzle.

Last weekend I visited the Waldorf School in Tbilisi. I met a young German guy who works there and he showed me around. It has about 300 students and great anthro architecture. I felt right at home. I sat down with a couple of the teachers to talk about the possibility of my teaching there in the next semester. They were very excited about this prospect and I'm headed in tomorrow to observe a lesson. It's not much more than an idea at this point but it's an interesting prospect. I think living in the city and teaching at the Waldorf School would make for fuller and possibly richer days, but it will be a difficult decision. I can't really face the prospect of leaving the school and families here in Nukriani.

However the pressure of such a decision is not on me yet, so with the remaining time I have before I fly I'll do my best not to count the days, but to make the days count. As a friend once told me "With one foot in the past and one in the future, you end up pissing on today!" 

Gilocav Dabadebis Dghe!

As my birthday approached, I had my expectations set set low- maybe a cake at school and a shared supra in the evening with guests mainly there for my host sister Pikria, who's exactly one year older than me. I in no way expected the grandiose celebration that was in store for me.

The day started with a couple calls from my old host family wishing me well and birthday kisses on the cheek from all- my host mother, the teachers and the 9th grade boys. I got "Happy Birthday" from the 1st and 3rd graders in English. I was ushered into the 2nd grade where they sang "Happy Birthday" in Georgian standing in a line, holding hands. Upon completion they rushed at me and I was surrounded by crowd of 7 year-old hugs! After my 4th class I was told to go home, change into something nicer and come back at 1pm.

                                        

When I walked upstairs I found most of the school and half the village sitting in the main room in front of a make-shift stage. There were balloons in the corners, leaves on the floor and the curtains were decorated with paper hearts on which were written "Chris", "USA", "Pennsylvania" and "Happy Birthday" in Georgian. I was asked to sit at a small table to the side where my friends Tim, Andy and Inga were already waiting. On the table: 2 bottles of champagne, glasses and a huge cake decorated as an American flag, with candles and big sparklers. 

Then the performances started- "Happy Birthday" by all; a number of girls sang songs in Georgian with the music teacher on piano; a boy and girl danced a traditional dance in traditional dress; one of the 1st grade girls and one of the 2nd grade boys (probably the two tiniest kids in the school) sang and danced dressed as super-cute mice; a number of students recited Georgian poetry in my honor; my co-teacher spoke some moving words in English that brought be to tears; and I was presented with a beautiful book. It was an overwhelming, touching, special and joyous occasion. I didn't feel worthy of so much, but it was wonderful to see everybody so happy.

From there we moved into the teachers' room where a long table was set up decorated with baskets of pomegranates, persimmons, pears and grapes. We ate khinkali, the national meat dumplings, and achma khachapuri, one of variations on the cheese pie. There was about 5 gallons of red wine and a bottle of house made walnut-flavored grape liquor for the endless toasts. We drank for God, for me, for my parents, for my brothers and sisters, for the day of St Michael, for our countries, for our community and for many others I'm sure. It was easily the most special and memorable birthday celebration of my life!

A new post soon!

It was my intention to write a post about this past week. With both birthday and Thanksgiving celebrations it was truly fantastic. However I've already spent too much time in the unheated computer room, and I'm rapidly losing feeling in my fingers! Celebratory updates coming soon....

(while we did eat turkey, it didn't quite look like this- picture courtesy of google images)

The End of a Short Autumn

A couple weeks ago while walking outside Sighnaghi, Tim and I were reflecting on how nice it is to be in a country where the passage of time can be measured by the selection of fruit in the market. It's nice not to have  the globalized North American supermarkets where blueberries can be had in January. It's difficult to remember all the time markers, because once the season is over, they're nowhere to be found. But here we left the peaches and nectarines long ago, along with the sweet, red flesh of perfectly ripe watermelons. In September we welcomed figs, pears and the first table grapes. It was grapes in earnest come October followed by persimmons, apples and pomegranates.

When I woke up on the morning of November 7th, it was clear the snow was early. Walking along the road  unconventional Christmas trees were decorated with globes of persimmon orange and pomegranate red. Sinister Saparavi grapes still hung on some vines like the bearded heads of wise men, prematurely crowned with white. It's strange to miss the bleakness of late November when all the leaves have fallen, the naked silhouettes of trees greet early nights, and the earth lies frozen, waiting for its winter blanket.

The screen of my laptop gave up on Georgia. There's nothing but a black screen when I turn it on. But this has allowed me realize just how much time I was spending sitting alone at my desk listening to music and challenging my computer to endless games of Hearts. Unfortunately I've discovered shows in English broadcast on a Turkish TV station that we get. Sometimes I have to work to pull myself out of the vegetative state that TV can put  me in so easily. But the absence of my laptop has allowed me to make faster progress through my Georgian grammar book, which I've almost finished. It also makes time for reading- I got my hands on a copy of "One Hundred Years of Solitude", which has been exciting to read again. I'm almost through that as well! And finally without the distraction of an always-ready Hearts opponent I've been able to take more time to catalogue my thoughts and take stock of my current situation in reflections like this.

I'm still happy to be here, still enjoying the work in the school. For everything I teach I learn at least as much. My co-teacher, Tamriko, and I continue to developed a comfortable relationship with an understanding of where our respective strengths lie and how they can best be used in the classroom. But the undercurrent still persists for me of wanting more, both in terms of my work and socially. Teaching all of 16 hours a week leaves a whole lot of free time, and I would be happier with full days. It would be great to find a way to apply my ag econ studies to a project, or even just to pick up some tutoring to fill out my schedule. Socially, I have found whole lot of acquaintances here, a good handful of friends, but few that I feel really close to. While it can be frustrating waiting for these relationships to develop, it's given me a new appreciation for those already in my life that are truly good friends.

But soon enough I'll be flying back to the states for a month among those friends and family, and in the meantime, while I'll keep my eyes out for ways to channel the undercurrents that remain, I intend to enjoy myself thoroughly and take advantage of all the opportunities that are to be had, for they are abundant!

Grapes, Waterfalls, Churches and Caves

It’s been a good while since I wrote anything to post. I wish I could say this is because I’ve been tremendously busy, but really it’s mainly due to lethargy and a lack of inspiration. To break the funk I was feeling, I decided to make an adventure out of this past weekend, and I headed out to see the Sapara monastery and Vardzia, the ancient cave city out in the Samtskhe-Javakheti region again. But before I recount that little weekend adventure there’s some catching up to do.

A while back, TLGers this side of the country were invited to the opening of a ‘Teacher’s House’ in Tbilisi. With nothing better to do on a Thursday evening I decided to go. After sitting outside in the chilly air for a spell, it appeared the president was running late. Wine was served and about two hours later Misha (as p

President Saakashvili is often referred to here) finally arrived. He gave a speech about education in Georgian that I was not really able to follow. It was a nice excuse to get out and socialize on a weekday and an opportunity to shake the hand of this country’s president!

As October progressed it was soon time to pick grapes. I was invited by my old host family to come with them to their vineyard and help with the vintage, or rtveli as it’s called here. They were planning to go out on a Friday and I was given the day off school no problem. Once the police truck and a little Lada were filled up with buckets, boxes, knives and people, we rumbled down to the vines. That day we picked seven rows. Old ladies, all over sixty (hired at 15 GEL for a days work), would work in pairs, two buckets a piece beside them on the ground. Once both women had filled their first bucket, a young man would carry the two full buckets back to the bags or the crates, while the babushkas continued with their second bucket. We would come back to swap them out and so it continued.

It felt good to be outside in the sunshine, with good work to keep the hands busy and autumn in the air. We worked from about 11am till 6pm with a short hour or so for lunch somewhere in between. I was mainly a bucket courier, but in between runs I also cut the grapes from the vine. It didn’t take long before my hands and knife were sticky with the sweet residue of the green-gold Katsitelli grapes. I worked at a good pace for most of the day, but I definitely slowed towards the end. All in all we picked somewhere in the neighborhood of 2.6 metric tons that day! Such hard work must of course be followed by a supra. The food tasted all the better after a day in the sun. I went through the same routine again with my current host family just last week. With them I saw the grapes pressed (or rather ground) into the large barrels for wine.

The weekend before I picked grapes with my current host family, Tim and I had headed out to the Lagodekhi Nature Reserve across the Valley. Tim is an American teaching in the town Sighnaghi itself, and we had also worked together at the summer school in Tskneti. Tim has been here since January I believe, and has gotten a very good handle on the language in that time. The two of us made it across by Marshutka in about an hour and set out on a hike through forest to a waterfall. The park is gorgeous. Entering one is greeted by large, spready, silver-barked trees. There is very little undergrowth, and as we sat down to have a little food before our hike it felt like we were sitting in the setting for a fairy tale from some distant time.

There was once a good trail up to the waterfall, but some recent flooding destroyed a large portion of it, so we often found ourselves scrambling over large piles of fallen trees and negotiating other unexpected obstacles left by the flood waters. It wasn’t a particularly steep hike most of the way, and at 5km, not particularly long either, but given the technicality of the trail it proved a good little challenge for us. When we finally reached the small falls after what seemed like much longer than 2 hours or so that it took, I decided I needed to go in! It was frigid. The falling water was powerful. It was exhilarating!

We made it back much quicker, but found that we were not quick enough to catch a marshutka back across to Sighnaghi, because the last one had decided not to go! We started out thumbing it, but eventually settled for a cab. We walked the last section up the hill to town singing songs in the dark. A great day.

The harvest season brings many festivals to Georgia. It seems every village makes it a point to celebrate this time with food, wine, crafts, wrestling and dancing. Nukriani held a festival last recently. It was fun to see young boys tussle in the traditional way and incredible to see the dance ensembles perform in costume.

As mentioned above, despite these happenings I had slipped into a little bit of a funk, feeling tired and generally uninspired. I thought a bit of an excursion would help to break it up so when my friend Megan floated the idea of heading out to visit Vardzia, even though I had already seen it I decided to join her. I was looking forward to the opportunity to visit the Sapara Monastery again, perhaps my favorite place I have been to so far in this country.

We took the marshutka out to Akhaltsikhe on Friday evening and found a cheap guesthouse to stay with the aid of a helpful cab driver. He recommended another man who took us around on Saturday. We started with the scenic drive on rough dirt roads through the fields and up the steep hillside to the Sapara Monastery. It had a very different character at this time of year compared to my visit there in June, but it was equally special and the snowcapped mountains in the distance made for an exceptionally beautiful view from this peaceful place. Walking around the grounds, and stepping into the church as the morning sun rays came down through the window, were reasons enough to make the trip worth it.

We continued on to the cave city of Vardzia. It’s a beautiful drive through rocky, arid valley alongside the rushing green of the Mtkvari River. Settlement there dates to the 12^th Century and at its height it’s told to have been a holy city housing perhaps 2,000 monks in the carved rock dwellings ranging over 13 floors. In 1283, there was large earthquake that destroyed a good portion of the caves and with the successive invaders the monastery fell into decline and was looted by the Persians. But it is currently a working monastery again, housing a number of monks.

After we made our way through the complex, we stopped at a nearby cave complex that predates Vardzia, the fortress ruins at Khertvisi and a village festival on our way back to Akhaltsikhe. And while it had already been a full day, we decided to take the marshutka back to Tbilisi (where we could stay with friends for free). We were back in the capital by 9pm. I was able to stay with a number of teachers who are renting an apartment rather in Tbilisi rather than staying with host families. We went out for khinkali and somehow didn’t get back to their place until 3:30 in the morning. A long day.

Sunday allowed for some relaxation. I got a good coffee and some food. Five of us decided to see the Swan Lake matinée as tickets for the ballet were as cheap as 5 Lari! After the show I rushed back to catch the last marshutka back towards Sighnighi. I found that Tim was taking it as well so I had company for the short two hours back to the village. It was a full weekend that did wonders for snapping me back into positivity!

Highlights from last weekend

On Friday the 9^th grade invited me out for lunch in Sighnaghi. I don’t teach their class, but a number of them speak English fairly well and come over to talk during the breaks. It was a nice little outing. We ate an enormous quantity of khinkali, the Georgian meat dumplings. But coming back turned out to be interesting. We were seated in the marshutka, one of the converted minivans that serve as public transit here. The rest of the seats filled. And then people kept squeezing on. Seats were shared, laps became seats, some stood. I think there must have been twice as many people as seats by the time we left!

On Saturday I decided to head in Tbilisi as there was not a whole lot to do in the village. Rather than wait for the marshutka I decided to hitch hike. I was picked up quickly by a family from Rustavi coming from their vineyard, headed to Sagarejo. They insisted I take a whole bunch of grapes when the dropped me off.

I decided to take a marshutka from Sagarejo. Walking from where the buses stop in Tbilisi, one has to go through a little market to get to the metro. It’s always fun to walk through the stands. Most of the people are all selling the same produce, but the composition of colors and smells has changed a little since the summertime. The reds of tomatoes were still present, a couple cucumber-greens were still sticking around, the basil and cilantro persisted, but the green-yellow of grapes dominated, the first pumpkins were being sold, and through it all came a nice farm-y smell from the woman selling cheese.

I bargained with a man at the dry-bridge market for the accordion he was selling. He asked for 70 lari, I told him 50. He agreed. Having played some more on it, I realize I may have overpaid a little, but I’m enjoying it so much that it’s well worth the $30!

Coming back I took the marshutka. The driver recognized me from TV and had me sit up front. The sunset was spectacular. Fluffy horizontal clouds were painted in golds, oranges, reds, and violets as the daylight faded. The crescent moon got brighter. Just as I was trying to get a better look out the window, the marshutka broke down- plenty of time for a good look! Half a dozen men poked around under the hood by cell-phone light to no avail. Eventually another van pulled up and we all got on. With the accordion it was an awkward squeeze.

This second marshutka was not going through Nukriani so I was dropped off about 2 kilometers from the house. It was a beautiful night- clear and cold, with a sky chock full of stars. But walking with an accordion box isn’t tons of fun, so I was happy when a man stopped to give me a lift.

On Sunday I headed into Sighnaghi for the hot air balloon festival. Coming down the road into town looking across the valley I could see fresh snow on the tops of the Caucasus Mountains- stunning. It was a perfect fall day, warm, but not hot, clear sky. A couple TLG friends came out for the day, making for a real nice laid-back finish to the weekend.

October!

It's a beautiful fall day for the first of October. The sun is shining, a brisk wind blowing off last night's rain clouds. It's not cold yet, but there's an autumnal feel in the air. Coming into Tbilisi today I saw people out in the vineyards harvesting the grapes. There's a hot air balloon festival in Sighnaghi this weekend that I hope to get to tomorrow. The beginning of a new season always seems to get me excited; whether it's the first snow of winter; the first hint of warmth in the a breeze at the beginning of spring; those first warm nights of summer; or now the change in the air here at the beginning of fall. A more lengthy post will no doubt follow shortly, but I wanted to share a link to the TV broadcast of last week's excursion to Kachreti in which I appear briefly on two occasions:
http://www.myvideo.ge/?act=dvr&chan=rustavi2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nuuRkEN4yA4
(The 'myvideo.ge' link may not work in America...)

A couple photos of #2 Public School, Nukriani

You and me, we're TLG

It’s the beginning of another week. It’s surprising to recognize it’s only the second week of school; it already feels like it has been much longer. I’m finding a rhythm with my co-teacher, and we’re seeing daily improvements in just about all of the students.  

This past weekend TLG organized an excursion for volunteers to Kachreti to harvest grapes, make wine, and eat traditional foods. Saturday monrning hopped on the Tbilisi Marshutka, and after only about half an hour I was dropped where a small road met the highway. The driver pointed down it and waved off my inquiry as to how much I owed him as he pulled back onto the road. A little ways down I found a man and asked him “Koleji, saad aarees?” (Where’s the college?). He pointed down the way towards some larger buildings. When I walked through the gates into a beautifully maintained campus, I was greeted by the director of the professional college. I was the first to arrive. We walked by some small flower gardens and I was sat me down at a table in front of a beautiful basket of grapes and pomegranates. We drank coffee and she described the school to me. It’s a technical and vocational school with somewhere between 300 and 400 students, starting as young as 16. They have vineyards, field crops, bees, and livestock, as well as programs in foreign languages and business.

Other volunteers from Kakheti started arriving a little after 10am, eight or ten of us in all. We sat around the fruit and ran through the requisite questions- where are you from? How long have you been in Georgia? Do you know so and so? How’s your host family? Your school? Etc. It was a couple too many people to really get to know each other, but nice all the same. Around 11:30 we got word that the volunteers coming from Tbilisi had arrived. I was expecting to see a handful of volunteers, maybe twenty, so it was a little bit overwhelming to see fifty something English teachers all off the Tbilisi bus, as well as a couple TV cameras!

We were herded toward the vineyard, given knives and buckets and we started to cut grapes from the vines. It was nice to have some way to keep my hands busy confronted with so many new faces. Between the grape leaves I met a couple new people. “What’s your name? Where you from? When did you get here? Where you living here?” All the preliminaries get a little tedious. I filled up a couple buckets pretty quickly and one of the TLG staff told me to stop working so hard! The buckets were emptied into a large woven basket on a donkey-drawn wagon and brought over to a small house containing a trough to stomp them and an underground vessel, or quevri where the wine will age. I pulled on some boots and helped squash grapes for a while. Of course the TV cameras didn’t want to miss the Americans getting busy in the work.

Now it was time to eat and to drink. There was a generous spread of all the typical fare. There was fresh khinkali and wine made by the first group of TLG volunteers just about exactly a year ago. I took on the role of tamada, the toast master as a number of teachers had gathered in one area. The TV folk overheard and wanted to film me toasting Georgia- “Sakartvelos Gaumarjos!” Music and dancing got underway, some folks started up a game of volleyball, and the feasting and toasting continued. Tim toasted the ground, which supports us, upon which we dance, from which comes all the delicious food we eat, the wine we drink. One of the many I proposed was to delicious food, not just to new foods that we have come to love in Georgia, but also the foods of our own families that we miss  and the foods of our heritages, whether from Singapore, or France or India (all represented around our table). And Tom made a toast that struck home for all of us on that day: to TLG. Even with all the dysfunction, all the times they drop the ball, the grand misallocation of resources, ultimately those involved in TLG are mostly doing good work, work that is helping Georgia along the path to development. We drank for the common ground the program gives us here, the new friends we have that would not be a part of our lives were it not for TLG.  And we drank for all those involved with TLG, the administrative staff, the people who organized this fantastic day of feasting, the host families, the teachers, and perhaps most importantly the students, who will be the future of this country. Giga, one of TLG’s directors was there to hear our words and also thank us. Sooner or later it was time to make our way back to our respective dwelling places, but not before promises were made to new friends to meet up for hikes or more gatherings around good food. All in all it was a pretty fantastic day. And of course, today in school my celebrity status increased as everyone informed me they had seen me on TV!

First day at #2 public school in Nukriani

Thursday September 15^th was the first day of school here. I received an email indicating that I did not need to start at the school until Monday the 19^th, after an introductory meeting with the director and the regional coordinator, but as Neli, Zaza’s mother works at the school I was happy to go along and see where I’ll be for the next couple months. The school is about a ten minute walk from Zaza’s. It’s a large, two-storied concrete building just off the main road. The walls of the rooms were painted along the bottom third with a bright, cheerful spring green, but otherwise, aside from some old desks and chairs the classrooms were pretty bare. I met the teachers; all women except an older man who teaches “sport”. I met the director, Manana, and found out that it would be the next day that I would be moving in with their family! It’s a pretty small school: 110 students total for grades 1-12. There was an introductory assembly where everyone stood around the large room on the second floor. Four girls performed the school’s hymn with the music teacher on piano. Some awards were given out for a music competition that must have taken place over the summer. I was invited to introduce myself, which I did simply in Georgian: “My name is Chris. I am from America. I am your new English teacher.” And then in English “My Georgian is not very good yet, but I am looking forward working here and to meeting all of you.” The first graders spoke individually, something they had prepared- some were shy to the point of tears, others confident to the point of shouting. These students received special laptops courtesy of the Saakashvili administration. Some more remarks were made and that was about it for the day. The atmosphere in the school is warm and intimate- the classes all have less than 10 children and everyone seems excited to have me here. I’m looking forward to my time here.

When you hop into a stranger’s car there’s no telling what will happen

Since finishing with the police, rides to Sighnaghi (and the internet) have not been as readily available. I’ve taken to hitchhiking into town. I have generally been able to get rides within ten minutes. On one occasion I was picked up by a Georgian and his wife who has been living in Australia for the last six years, on another occasion I had to push aside a large quantity of egg cartons to squeeze onto the back seek and yesterday I got a ride on a four-wheeler. But the most memorable came on Wednesday. I was picked up by a car and came to understand that the animated gentleman in the front seat was a relatively famous actor. He laughed, he sang, he stuck his head out the window and screamed, and generally played the clown. The three of them told me they were meeting friends, asked if I had plans and then promptly invited me to a supra. Soon I found myself driving in a caravan that included some Iranian business men, a relative of the Georgian president and the famous Georgian singer Eter Kakulie. It was not clear to me where we were headed but soon enough we were at a restaurant in Dedoplistskaro. It was certainly one of the more generous spreads I have been a part of here- the food didn’t stop coming. There was traditional dancing and we were treated to a rendition of a Kakulie classic: Tbiliso, sad aris. I was driven back to Nukriani later that evening with a full stomach and a new CD!

Latest News

The other day I received an email that indicated that last Friday's class was the last one I would be giving to the police officers. I wrote TLG to inquire about starting at the school and whether I could stay with my current host family. They wrote back saying that no, I will not be able to stay with my current family, and the director of #2 School in Nukriani will be hosting me. They could not inform me when I would be moving or when I'll start work at the school. While I am looking forward to a change in pace, a new environment and teaching children, I'm not excited about adjusting to a new family. There is a chance, of course, that the move will be great, but at this point it's a whole lot of uncertainty. For now I can only hope for the best...

Georgian BBQ: Mtsvadi

Most of the time here in Georgia, it’s the women that take care of the food. But there’s one thing the men take pride in, and that’s their mtsvadi. It’s generally pork, sometimes beef, cut into 1 to 2 inche cubes, often with a bit of rib-bone, and/or a nice strip of fat. The cubes are speared onto long metal skewers, maybe 5 cubes on each, and brought out into the yard. Every Georgian family seems to have a large stash of dried grapevines especially for the mtsvadi fire. A large bundle is lit, and tended until only the glowing ashes remain, any large pieces of wood removed. Over the embers they place a square metal frame on short legs and across go the salted skewers. One side of the meat is browned. People are generally hanging out under the overhanging grapes and can enjoy the delightful smells that fill the yard. The skewers are turned. And shortly thereafter they can come off. The back of the skewer is held and then using a large piece of Georgian bread the meat can be slid off into a bowl with thinly sliced red onions. Mtsvadi is generally only one of many many dishes on the table, but usually one of my favorites- the meat is juicy, and there are nice crispy bits, and enough fat still on it to help absorb the quantity of wine that comes with the endless toasting.

Somehow it's September

For the past six years or so in the third week of August I’ve found myself tired, bearded, fit and sunburnt, saying goodbyes to good friends, after epic adventures into the Canadian wilderness, and also adventures into ourselves. It was always a challenging time, as I packed up my stanky clothes and tried to recognize my growth and learnings, steeling myself for the onslaught of life in civilization, and a much less intentional community.  Somehow August has already passed! The most striking way I was confronted with the end of summer was through facebook as a couple weeks ago came the pictures from the end of second session at Northwaters and Langskib. And now friends have updated statuses to reflect the journeys back to campuses across the country. Those pictures stirred something in me, and it was only then that I really recognized my moving on from NWL. Seeing those snapshots, I missed the beauty of Temagami, having those challenges, that community. But I can recognize that it was a good time to leave. I look back with nostalgia, but not regret. I am grateful for the new adventures and challenges that I have found here. It’s nice not to have the dramatic transitions at the end of the summer, and to have different landmarks to look forward to, like the grape harvest in about a month. I’m coming to the end of Module 5 with the police officers. There have been some heavy rains and the weather has been a little cooler. I got an email from TLG informing me that I would be finishing with the police on September 20^th, and will then start teaching in a school. Summer is coming to an end, but it feels like things for me are only just getting started.

Bride-napping, Bread Baking and Quail Hunting: Just Another Day in Georgia

This past weekend was the first I spent here in Nukriani with the family. Saturday was warm and sunny, and I enjoyed a cup of instant coffee (good coffee is near impossible to come by) sitting in the common room where Keti, Zaza’s sister has been staying. She was in a car accident in which she broke her leg and a couple ribs, and she has been recovering here with us (considering the way most Georgians drive, a car accident was not surprising). Even though my Georgian is still pretty rough, and her English doesn’t go too much beyond “Hello”, with her warm sociability we’re able to converse a good deal. She studied German for a while and generally talks to me in some kind of jumbled combo of simplified words in Georgian, English and Deutsch. Anyhow, I’d settled down for coffee and more interrogations about my family and America, and our cultural differences. We got to talking about dating and marriage, and Nona, Zaza’s wife, told me she was married at 16! Then Keti pushed Nona to share how she and Zaza met. “Well, I was walking back from school one day, and Zaza and some of his friends came by in a car, and grabbed me and took me!” “What?! Really?!”, “Yes,” she continued as if it were perfectly normal, “and we drove, but after three villages the car was having some problems, and we had to stop. But my grandmother was living in this village, so we stayed there and we were introduced, and then we were married.” “And that was OK?” “Yes, yes.” “In America if something like that happens, people call the police!” “No, no we didn’t call police,” she smiled and laughed. Keti stretched out her arms “SchÖnes story, ho!?” “Yes, a nice story,” I smiled back, kind of taken aback. I had heard about this practice of “bride-napping”, but I had no idea that I was living with a couple that resulted from it! The two of them seem to get on fine, as do the extended families. At least that’s the picture 14 years after the fact.

As I came out of the family room, to bring my empty coffee cup to the sink, I was beckoned into the garage and the backyard area by Neli, Zaza’s mother. Here she was stoking the traditional Georgian bread oven, (tones oven, I believe) with dried grape vines. The oven looks like a large barrel, open at the top, set on the concrete floor, brick on the inner surface. Neli and her mother Keto brought the dough out and began shaping balls. As the flames died down a bit and only glowing coals remained an old cloth was swirled around to sweep any ash from the sides of the oven. At first I thought the dough would be placed on the top lip to bake, but I watched as it was stretched and then slapped right on the inside of the oven where it hung over the coals! The first piece cracked a little, but the others held, and baked in less than ten minutes. After the first round of stretched flat loaves, the women began shaping them longer loaves. These too were wet a little bit and then slapped onto the inside of the oven. Not so bad at the top, but by the fourth row they were bending right into the oven. Neli and Keto would then take out the baked loaves with their bare hands. One fell down. No problem for Neli; she reached right into the coals! The hot bread was eaten right there with fresh cheese and walnuts. A pretty excellent snack!

Just as the second round of loaves was coming out, Zaza came back from work with Ilia, another one of the cops, and Nodar, Nona’s father. It was time to set out for quail. With bread, tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese, water, watermelon and of course a water bottle full of cognac, we hopped into the police truck and set out. A little ways outside the village we met up with Iago, another police officer. He was in the police force’s four-wheeler, dressed head to toe in camouflage brandishing an old double-barreled shotgun. Zaza joined him on the quad and we took to the fields. Racing down dirt roads or simply across fields, both driver and passenger in the truck had their guns at the ready. Before we got any shots off we came up to a man on a rise with some vehicles and some beehives. He offered us honey right out of the comb- a sweet start to the afternoon! It seemed the name of the game was race along in the truck in an attempt to scare up quail which were generally hiding in the cornflower fields. With birds taking to the air, Ilia would fly out the passenger door and take aim. I was surprised to see how well this worked. The hardest was then to find the bird amid the tall flowers. “Daghli unda,” (We need a dog), Ilia said. Lunch was had in the shade near the shell of an abandoned house, but I could hardly eat, still full from all the bread and cheese I had had just before leaving. Ilia let me have a shot with his Winchester. I took aim at a small flock of birds. I found the sight. Careful not to anticipate the motion to far, or to fall behind, I pulled the trigger. “BAM!” The bird fell. I thought I had a good line on it, but it was nowhere to be found. Oh well. By the end of the day we had six quail and two larger birds, not sure exactly what they were but I took a picture with one all the same!