Having not slept well, I stayed in bed until about 10 when Francesco called to confirm our plans to travel to Rukhi (a village bordering Abkhazia with a ruined castle). I have been invited to Rukhi with a police officer later when the weather is nicer, so we decided to meet at 1PM, talk with his host family, and make a Plan B.
His host sister came with us luckily. As she skillfully navigated her way through the market stalls directly to where her father and mother own a stall, I followed like a puppy. I have yet to not get lost in the market.
We asked Francesco's host mom for another suggestion, and we settled on Kortskheli (a village 7km outside of Zugdidi with a church and monastery). His host mom noticed me looking at the hair dye. Having had my hair dyed last week, I showed her the box top from the color I used. To my great surprise, she gave me a box of the same dye, and very generously refused to let me pay for it.
After very little encouragement, we talked her into leaving her husband at the stall and coming with us to Kortskheli for the afternoon. Again to our great surprise, she hired a taxi and refused again, to let us pay for it.
We stopped by her sister's house very briefly as she handed her a bottle of something which would later become clearer. The taxi inched its way up a surprisingly snowy embankment as Zugdidi has absolutely no snow on the ground anymore. It came to a stop in between the monastery and the church. We first visited the monastery which I'd imagine is absolutely gorgeous in spring as the trees and brush from the garden were still visible over the mounds of snow. We were invited into the monastery to listen to some nuns sing. As we exited, we were greeted by a guest of the monastery who spoke very nearly perfect English.
Natala showed us around the 17th century church explaining its history and how it had been defaced by the Russians during the Soviet times.
We headed back over to the monastery as we had been invited back for tea. From the monastery grounds, it is possible to see the Black Sea.
We headed inside and had a nice chat with the nun who invited us earlier and Natala. Francesco had loads of in depth questions about Orthodox Christianity and how it fit into the Byzantine empire and questions about churches and Russian reactions. I just let him go... Haha.
After talking for a while, the nun gave each of us a biscuit baked at the monastery and two candles to remember the monastery by and invited us to come back anytime. Very very kind!
Afterward, the bottle of mystery liquid came into play. It was wine. We stopped at a cemetery to pay respects to one of Francesco's host mother's relatives.
We then headed back to Francesco's host family's house where Francesco and I talked for a while. By the time I realized what time it was, I had been invited to stay for dinner.
I ended up making it home just before dark and just after Francesco's house had lost power.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Death Anniversary - Saturday February 11, 2012
Today was the one year anniversary of the death of my host father's father. I'm quickly learning that death plays an immense role in Georgian culture. After a person dies, there is 40 days of mourning, which includes wearing black and fasting from meat. There is then a one year anniversary. Depending on who has died and depending on the extent of tradition in an individual, the person mourning may wear black for years.
In any case, I laid in bed until around 11 before waking up to go next door. I set down my tea to help Tiko and my host parent's daughter, Sopo, dry the billion plates that had been rented for guests who would be coming later to eat. I then watched as my host mother made khachapuri - enough to feed an army. It was quite the process. I believe I have watched it being made so many times that I may have a shot at making it on my own. Dough, make it into a ball, kneed it slightly, fill it to the gills with Georgian cheese, gather up the corners to once again make it into a ball, then smoosh it out to resemble a cheese filled pizza, and place in an over on a pizza pan.
While my host mother was completing a task I'm sure she's accomplished many times in her lifetime, my host sister-in-law and a cousin took charge of me to get me to the cemetery with everyone else. We took marshutkas to the cemetery to perform a tradition of offering wine to the dead by sprinkling it over his grave and drinking a bit. There was also an offering plate of food which we were supposed to eat off of. As I was offered the platter, I tried to take the tomato as I'm missing fresh produce in my life,, but was instead instructed to take khachapuri. I may never know why...but was left looking longingly after the tomato.
From there, we hopped back on the marshutka to come back to my host father's mother's house next door where I was led upstairs to take part in another tradition of sprinkling something over a fire and dipping bread in wine and eating it. I was mortified to see a cow's head (eyes open, tongue sticking out) and the remains of a lamb lying underneath the table.
From there I was led to an upstairs area that had tables lined up from end to end that had been decorated with fruit (FRUIT!) and loads of other food. I had some of my fave - badrijani (eggplant with walnut paste). After that I also had some khachapuri, gomi with cheese, and some salads...followed by a precious banana. I will never take fruit and veggies for granted again!
After that, it was time for the men to drink and for the women to hang out downstairs. I managed to stay up until 9 or 10 before heading upstairs to pass out.
All in all, a very interesting cultural experience.
In any case, I laid in bed until around 11 before waking up to go next door. I set down my tea to help Tiko and my host parent's daughter, Sopo, dry the billion plates that had been rented for guests who would be coming later to eat. I then watched as my host mother made khachapuri - enough to feed an army. It was quite the process. I believe I have watched it being made so many times that I may have a shot at making it on my own. Dough, make it into a ball, kneed it slightly, fill it to the gills with Georgian cheese, gather up the corners to once again make it into a ball, then smoosh it out to resemble a cheese filled pizza, and place in an over on a pizza pan.
While my host mother was completing a task I'm sure she's accomplished many times in her lifetime, my host sister-in-law and a cousin took charge of me to get me to the cemetery with everyone else. We took marshutkas to the cemetery to perform a tradition of offering wine to the dead by sprinkling it over his grave and drinking a bit. There was also an offering plate of food which we were supposed to eat off of. As I was offered the platter, I tried to take the tomato as I'm missing fresh produce in my life,, but was instead instructed to take khachapuri. I may never know why...but was left looking longingly after the tomato.
From there, we hopped back on the marshutka to come back to my host father's mother's house next door where I was led upstairs to take part in another tradition of sprinkling something over a fire and dipping bread in wine and eating it. I was mortified to see a cow's head (eyes open, tongue sticking out) and the remains of a lamb lying underneath the table.
From there I was led to an upstairs area that had tables lined up from end to end that had been decorated with fruit (FRUIT!) and loads of other food. I had some of my fave - badrijani (eggplant with walnut paste). After that I also had some khachapuri, gomi with cheese, and some salads...followed by a precious banana. I will never take fruit and veggies for granted again!
After that, it was time for the men to drink and for the women to hang out downstairs. I managed to stay up until 9 or 10 before heading upstairs to pass out.
All in all, a very interesting cultural experience.
Georgian/Italian Family - Saturday February 11, 2012
I was kindly invited to Francesco's host family's for dinner. It was a wonderful opportunity to view another host family's interaction with their host teacher.
I left a bit early to meet Francesco at 5:30PM as I could no longer watch my host family getting ready for the death anniversary tomorrow as we had piglets with slit throats hanging up next door clearly visible through our living room window.
When I entered Francesco's house, I was firstly overwhelmed at how many people there were. Francesco has a host father, mother, sister, brother, cousin, and uncle. Plus another cousin came over with her mom and sister later on in the night. This cousin, Kristine, knows English very well and was able to translate for us.
I was secondly overwhelmed with the amount of generosity and kindness I was afforded while in their home. We had khachapuri, fried potatoes, three different kinds of salad, and lots and lots of wine!
We drank quite a bit and the night ended with the family showing me their 700 Litres of wine stored up until the next season. No wonder they take it as shots, there's so much of it!
Francesco, his host cousin, and host uncle offered to walk me home as it is only 15 minutes away. I was tipsy but quite capable of making the 3 turns it took to get to my house. Unfortunately the lot of them were not as capable to take the 3 turns back. Straight off they went right instead of left. An hour later, I received a phone call from Francesco telling me that they had to catch a taxi as they had somehow ended up in the countryside. HAHA!
After I returned home, I went next door to watch my host family get prepared for the ceremony. I was cordially invited by my host uncle to take shots of tchatcha (homemade vodka) with him, my host bro, and random guy. As it is insanely difficult to turn down a drink in this culture, I sat to have 4 shots of tchatcha before running away to avoid more drinks. I headed to bed around 11PM. The whole night was a good pick-me-up to the test taking disaster at the police academy earlier.
I left a bit early to meet Francesco at 5:30PM as I could no longer watch my host family getting ready for the death anniversary tomorrow as we had piglets with slit throats hanging up next door clearly visible through our living room window.
When I entered Francesco's house, I was firstly overwhelmed at how many people there were. Francesco has a host father, mother, sister, brother, cousin, and uncle. Plus another cousin came over with her mom and sister later on in the night. This cousin, Kristine, knows English very well and was able to translate for us.
I was secondly overwhelmed with the amount of generosity and kindness I was afforded while in their home. We had khachapuri, fried potatoes, three different kinds of salad, and lots and lots of wine!
We drank quite a bit and the night ended with the family showing me their 700 Litres of wine stored up until the next season. No wonder they take it as shots, there's so much of it!
Francesco, his host cousin, and host uncle offered to walk me home as it is only 15 minutes away. I was tipsy but quite capable of making the 3 turns it took to get to my house. Unfortunately the lot of them were not as capable to take the 3 turns back. Straight off they went right instead of left. An hour later, I received a phone call from Francesco telling me that they had to catch a taxi as they had somehow ended up in the countryside. HAHA!
After I returned home, I went next door to watch my host family get prepared for the ceremony. I was cordially invited by my host uncle to take shots of tchatcha (homemade vodka) with him, my host bro, and random guy. As it is insanely difficult to turn down a drink in this culture, I sat to have 4 shots of tchatcha before running away to avoid more drinks. I headed to bed around 11PM. The whole night was a good pick-me-up to the test taking disaster at the police academy earlier.
Ultimate Fail! - Friday February 10, 2012
Not Friday the 13th but almost as ominous. Today is one of those days...you know, one of those days when you feel like a total and utter failure. This most awesome of days has been brought on by the sudden realization that while there is a program in place, it does not effectively benefit everyone equally.
We had our first "test" today and the mounting stress painted across the faces of each of the officers made my insides melt. I have to split my classes into levels.
I personally despise conventional testing, but at the same time, understand its existence. I also felt like I had failed as a teacher in not fulfilling the obligation I had to prepare them properly.
After watching each student agonize over different sections of the test, I told them that if they don't finish or feel as though they have accomplished as high on the test as they would like, they can take the test again next Friday after we've done more review.
There is no point in allowing students to sit frustrated. It will only create a hatred of a subject.
Just because I will allow a retest this time, does not mean I will allow one next time or the time after that, it simply means that I recognized my failure as a teacher, and worked to correct it.
I will create a schedule of 3 classes to start the week after next with a more properly managed leveled class system so that I can give my students the proper level of education they are prepared for - whether that be 8 steps back and at a slower pace or 3 steps forward and at a faster pace.
We had our first "test" today and the mounting stress painted across the faces of each of the officers made my insides melt. I have to split my classes into levels.
I personally despise conventional testing, but at the same time, understand its existence. I also felt like I had failed as a teacher in not fulfilling the obligation I had to prepare them properly.
After watching each student agonize over different sections of the test, I told them that if they don't finish or feel as though they have accomplished as high on the test as they would like, they can take the test again next Friday after we've done more review.
There is no point in allowing students to sit frustrated. It will only create a hatred of a subject.
Just because I will allow a retest this time, does not mean I will allow one next time or the time after that, it simply means that I recognized my failure as a teacher, and worked to correct it.
I will create a schedule of 3 classes to start the week after next with a more properly managed leveled class system so that I can give my students the proper level of education they are prepared for - whether that be 8 steps back and at a slower pace or 3 steps forward and at a faster pace.
Big Bro Bully (Russia) - February 2, 2012
Tamuna is a wonderful woman! She is the police chief's secretary and my sanity. She also acts as the interpreter in my classes at the police station until next week when I will politely kick her out of class. No worries...we talked about it, and she agrees 100% that it'll be good for English language learners to hear and speak only English rather than relying on her translations.
Anyway, Tamuna is a fairly liberal-minded, 29 year old, unmarried Georgian woman. Gasp. 29 and unmarried. One of the first things she ever told me was that her mom believed that education was the most important thing she and her sisters could ever achieve. Already decades ahead of her time. She was not expected to get married and forget about education.
She is always very curious about American culture and asks how things are done there and explains how things are in Georgia and why they are the way they are. We sat down yesterday to lunch, where our conversations usually take place after classes are finished.
I plucked up the courage to ask her about the 2008 war with Russia. It was the first time I really recognized how young of a country I am living in and that everyone I meet has seen war.
Tamuna told me about leaving her home with her mom and two sisters as she heard Abkhazians were coming along with Russians as she remember from her childhood hearing of Abkhazians chopping the heads off of Georgian citizens. Her father stayed behind.
They went to a village 20km away from the main street of Zugdidi to stay with a family member. They were so terrified of the Russian planes overhead targeting houses that they all slept outside. After 4 days, the war was called off, but Russian planes continued bombing. After a week, this small country of Georgia had been rocked by it's big bro to the north.
Anyway, Tamuna is a fairly liberal-minded, 29 year old, unmarried Georgian woman. Gasp. 29 and unmarried. One of the first things she ever told me was that her mom believed that education was the most important thing she and her sisters could ever achieve. Already decades ahead of her time. She was not expected to get married and forget about education.
She is always very curious about American culture and asks how things are done there and explains how things are in Georgia and why they are the way they are. We sat down yesterday to lunch, where our conversations usually take place after classes are finished.
I plucked up the courage to ask her about the 2008 war with Russia. It was the first time I really recognized how young of a country I am living in and that everyone I meet has seen war.
Tamuna told me about leaving her home with her mom and two sisters as she heard Abkhazians were coming along with Russians as she remember from her childhood hearing of Abkhazians chopping the heads off of Georgian citizens. Her father stayed behind.
They went to a village 20km away from the main street of Zugdidi to stay with a family member. They were so terrified of the Russian planes overhead targeting houses that they all slept outside. After 4 days, the war was called off, but Russian planes continued bombing. After a week, this small country of Georgia had been rocked by it's big bro to the north.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Politsia - February 2, 2012
So, I teach police. It sounds pretty awesome, doesn't it. It actually is pretty awesome. I am enjoying it for the most part, and it is providing me with an experience I never could have dreamed of.
When we first got to Zugdidi, which is where my placement is, Pavell and I stopped at the police station before heading to our host families. I met a woman named Tamuna who is sort of in charge of me at the police station. It's hard to explain. If there is anything wrong, I contact her instead of TLG (Teach and Learn with Georgia). She also sits in on my English lessons and translates where necessary. She is 29, very sweet, and unmarried. She has had experience working with other foreigners, so it has been a wonderful experience getting to know her.
Two days later, on Monday, I decided my schedule and found out who would be in my classes. I teach Monday, Wednesday, Friday of every week for 4 hours each day. In theory, I have two classes of 14 and each class should last two hours. In practice, I have between 4-8 police officers that show up for each class and each class is between 1.5 hours to 2 hours.
There is a police officer that picks me up everyday from my host family's house and takes me to the police station. The police officers who work at the station I teach at work in one of five different departments within the station: HR, Detective Investigators, and Financial are three of them. I can't remember the others. They are considered "Neighborhood Police." They usually tend to be better paid than patrol police which are at a different station. If I were to walk to work, it would be between 1-1.5 hours which is quite far when it is this cold out, hence, the police escort to work. :)
In general, the police officers' English level is much higher than I had expected. They are half way through the second Level of the Cutting Edge books we are using to teach. The past two weeks, I have simply been working on review and will start teaching a new Module hopefully this Friday. They are expected to take a test the Friday of each week to show understanding of the new information. Even if the police officers didn't show up for the lessons, from what I understand, most try to show up for the tests.
With the idea from Pavell, the Patrol Police teacher, I start my lessons with a quote, a tongue twister, and a discussion of current events. This past Wednesday is when I felt my first disenchantment with teaching adult police officers. They were talking in my class which as a teacher of any age level, is frustrating. They speak in Georgian, and I cannot understand them. With that, there is occasionally more translating within the classroom than I would like, but Wednesday was the first day where I felt truly frustrated. I had the class take a break, so I could get my frustration under control before continuing the lesson. I asked the class if they wanted to discuss current events and most said yes. I asked them to bring in a current even that they could share with others on Friday. We'll see if they do.
The other troubles that go without saying when teaching police officers is that they are incredibly busy individuals. They have to put work first and answer their phones during class and may even have to get up and walk out. These I understand. It is the nature of their positions. But the talking...NO WAY I'm getting used to that.
However, in general, I feel very fortunate for the experience I am having. Not to mention, it'll look great on the resume. :)
When we first got to Zugdidi, which is where my placement is, Pavell and I stopped at the police station before heading to our host families. I met a woman named Tamuna who is sort of in charge of me at the police station. It's hard to explain. If there is anything wrong, I contact her instead of TLG (Teach and Learn with Georgia). She also sits in on my English lessons and translates where necessary. She is 29, very sweet, and unmarried. She has had experience working with other foreigners, so it has been a wonderful experience getting to know her.
Two days later, on Monday, I decided my schedule and found out who would be in my classes. I teach Monday, Wednesday, Friday of every week for 4 hours each day. In theory, I have two classes of 14 and each class should last two hours. In practice, I have between 4-8 police officers that show up for each class and each class is between 1.5 hours to 2 hours.
There is a police officer that picks me up everyday from my host family's house and takes me to the police station. The police officers who work at the station I teach at work in one of five different departments within the station: HR, Detective Investigators, and Financial are three of them. I can't remember the others. They are considered "Neighborhood Police." They usually tend to be better paid than patrol police which are at a different station. If I were to walk to work, it would be between 1-1.5 hours which is quite far when it is this cold out, hence, the police escort to work. :)
In general, the police officers' English level is much higher than I had expected. They are half way through the second Level of the Cutting Edge books we are using to teach. The past two weeks, I have simply been working on review and will start teaching a new Module hopefully this Friday. They are expected to take a test the Friday of each week to show understanding of the new information. Even if the police officers didn't show up for the lessons, from what I understand, most try to show up for the tests.
With the idea from Pavell, the Patrol Police teacher, I start my lessons with a quote, a tongue twister, and a discussion of current events. This past Wednesday is when I felt my first disenchantment with teaching adult police officers. They were talking in my class which as a teacher of any age level, is frustrating. They speak in Georgian, and I cannot understand them. With that, there is occasionally more translating within the classroom than I would like, but Wednesday was the first day where I felt truly frustrated. I had the class take a break, so I could get my frustration under control before continuing the lesson. I asked the class if they wanted to discuss current events and most said yes. I asked them to bring in a current even that they could share with others on Friday. We'll see if they do.
The other troubles that go without saying when teaching police officers is that they are incredibly busy individuals. They have to put work first and answer their phones during class and may even have to get up and walk out. These I understand. It is the nature of their positions. But the talking...NO WAY I'm getting used to that.
However, in general, I feel very fortunate for the experience I am having. Not to mention, it'll look great on the resume. :)
The Host with the Most - January 31, 2012
So, now I'm at my host family's house.
All in the Family
I have a 21-year-old host sister, Tiko, who is the only person who speaks English. She is married to a 30-year-old police officer, Dato. They live with his parents, Murmani and Eliso, who own two markets. So, strangely, everyone in my family works which is not the Georgian norm. Usually there is one woman who stays home and attends to "womanly duties" (cooking, cleaning, taking care of the kids.) So they work everyday from 9AM-6PM roughly...although it seems like their schedule always changes. Everyone works at the market except for the host bro who has a 24 hour duty cycle supposedly every other day, but I have not seen him for 4 days straight. In addition, we live right next door to my host father's brother, sister, and mom. His sister was never married, his father passed away a year ago, I think is what I understood, and his brother, Kosta, works in Belarus but is on holiday to come home for the death anniversary of his father. Kosta is divorced but has two boys who live in Belarus with their mother. In addition, to Dato, my host parents have two daughters, Sopo and Maga. Sopo has one son named Saba and is pregnant with another boy. Sadly, her husband died a little over a month ago of an aneurysm. Maga and her husband have one daughter named Qeso and one son named Luca.
Temperature
We have arrived in the heart of winter which means we are in the midst of a nearly unbearable cold front. Something our program forgot to mention is that families in Georgia have one room in which they keep warm. The rest of the house is as cold as it is outside. I talked the host family into letting me have a small electric heater in my room that I turn on an hour before bed which doesn't exactly make it warm, but makes the cold a little more tolerable. My host sister also sent me to bed with two soda bottles that had been emptied of soda and filled with hot water (instant hot water bottle). I clutch those two bottles as if my life depended on it. Once under the three blankets hugging the water bottles for about 30 minutes, it starts to warm up and sleep is possible.
Food
The food has been pretty tasty. I arrived during the period where my family was mourning for Sopo's husband which includes fasting. They did not eat meat for 40 days. They are now back to eating meat but understand that I do not eat meat. I think they are worried now about what to make for me. I eat a lot of bread, cheese, salads (cabbage, carrot, mayo), cabbage/potato soup, ghomi (a grit like food), and fruit. Still working on the protein aspect. I had beans once and haven't seen them since. My host family also realized that I like wine, so I have homemade wine with dinner every night.
The House
The houses in Georgia are bigger than what I thought they would be. They are equipped for housing parents and children and children's children. So, when you walk into my host family's house, there is a living room with 6 doors off of it. One is the front door, one is the back door, one is the parents' bedroom, one is an extra bedroom, one is the kitchen, and the other leads to the shower room and to a staircase that goes upstairs. There is a small hallway with a door at the end upstairs that leads into another huge living area. There are two bedrooms off of there, one mine, and one the bedroom of the son and daughter in law. There is a toilet inside that doesn't flush. We are allowed to use it but have to "flush" with a bucket of water afterward. To add too much information, the inside toilet is only if you have to pee. You must use the squat outhouse for the alternative. I pretty well pray that I don't have to go.
Next post will be about my job. :)
All in the Family
I have a 21-year-old host sister, Tiko, who is the only person who speaks English. She is married to a 30-year-old police officer, Dato. They live with his parents, Murmani and Eliso, who own two markets. So, strangely, everyone in my family works which is not the Georgian norm. Usually there is one woman who stays home and attends to "womanly duties" (cooking, cleaning, taking care of the kids.) So they work everyday from 9AM-6PM roughly...although it seems like their schedule always changes. Everyone works at the market except for the host bro who has a 24 hour duty cycle supposedly every other day, but I have not seen him for 4 days straight. In addition, we live right next door to my host father's brother, sister, and mom. His sister was never married, his father passed away a year ago, I think is what I understood, and his brother, Kosta, works in Belarus but is on holiday to come home for the death anniversary of his father. Kosta is divorced but has two boys who live in Belarus with their mother. In addition, to Dato, my host parents have two daughters, Sopo and Maga. Sopo has one son named Saba and is pregnant with another boy. Sadly, her husband died a little over a month ago of an aneurysm. Maga and her husband have one daughter named Qeso and one son named Luca.
Temperature
We have arrived in the heart of winter which means we are in the midst of a nearly unbearable cold front. Something our program forgot to mention is that families in Georgia have one room in which they keep warm. The rest of the house is as cold as it is outside. I talked the host family into letting me have a small electric heater in my room that I turn on an hour before bed which doesn't exactly make it warm, but makes the cold a little more tolerable. My host sister also sent me to bed with two soda bottles that had been emptied of soda and filled with hot water (instant hot water bottle). I clutch those two bottles as if my life depended on it. Once under the three blankets hugging the water bottles for about 30 minutes, it starts to warm up and sleep is possible.
Food
The food has been pretty tasty. I arrived during the period where my family was mourning for Sopo's husband which includes fasting. They did not eat meat for 40 days. They are now back to eating meat but understand that I do not eat meat. I think they are worried now about what to make for me. I eat a lot of bread, cheese, salads (cabbage, carrot, mayo), cabbage/potato soup, ghomi (a grit like food), and fruit. Still working on the protein aspect. I had beans once and haven't seen them since. My host family also realized that I like wine, so I have homemade wine with dinner every night.
The House
The houses in Georgia are bigger than what I thought they would be. They are equipped for housing parents and children and children's children. So, when you walk into my host family's house, there is a living room with 6 doors off of it. One is the front door, one is the back door, one is the parents' bedroom, one is an extra bedroom, one is the kitchen, and the other leads to the shower room and to a staircase that goes upstairs. There is a small hallway with a door at the end upstairs that leads into another huge living area. There are two bedrooms off of there, one mine, and one the bedroom of the son and daughter in law. There is a toilet inside that doesn't flush. We are allowed to use it but have to "flush" with a bucket of water afterward. To add too much information, the inside toilet is only if you have to pee. You must use the squat outhouse for the alternative. I pretty well pray that I don't have to go.
Next post will be about my job. :)
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