Lost In Translation... Or Is It?

Living in a non-English speaking country means that there are little surprises everyday in the way of poorly translated merchandise. This last year it has been t-shirts especially that have served as little comedy bombs to brighten my day.

I have seen some real gems, from a t-shirt depicting a pair of chucks labelled "Where Are My Star Shoes?" to this beauty:

Not even joking.

...to a very, VERY obese man in a too small t-shirt that said "TEAM JACOB." (I really wish I had gotten a picture of that last one...)

I never knew when a treasure like this was going to present itself and every time I saw a new addition to my vast collection of oddities the thought always crossed my mind, "Do they know what that means?" In some cases, I really wasn't sure. None of the English on the shirts is terribly complicated and most people can form a few sentences in English at the very least. It's unbelievable that no one is aware of the message they're sporting across their body's billboard.

The reason I bring this up now, after so long without a new post, is to discuss a t-shirt I saw on TV today, on a show called "Downtown." Essentially, the show is the Georgian version of "Friends." It's not very good from what I understand but it's immensely popular. Today the main character was robed in...

What the fuck?

I had never seen this shirt before (I've been lucky based off of how easily I found it in Google images...) and I was pretty shocked to see it on television, even in Georgia. (Interestingly enough, I saw it immediately following a conversation with my Georgian friends about why THE 'N' WORD is unacceptable. That conversation is getting tiresome.) Again, it was one of those moments, "Does he have any idea what he's wearing?" Georgians aren't exactly shy when expressing their opinions on my current president and if people I encounter here don't like him, the reason I am usually given is, and I quote:

"He's a n-----!"

Compelling argument, to be sure.

Anyway, my point is, I want to know if the messages conveyed on these shirts are really misunderstood by the individuals wearing them? I guess I'll never know unless I start asking and, who knows, maybe I'll make some new friends!

P.S. I'm going to attempt to get my hands on some pictures of other amazing shirts encountered here... Stay tuned!

Sometimes, Life in Georgia Can Be Difficult...

...and sometimes, not so much.

       I know some of you back home are concerned about my current living situation. Over the break, I was too eager to regale you all with stories of my bohemian lifestyle last semester and many of you personally witnessed the ferocity with which I prepared myself for the challenges I had no doubt I would face this semester. I was proud to be able to say that I survived 4 months with limited showers, a poor diet, no internet, and no heat. For the next six months I was determined to not only survive, but to thrive in the adverse living conditions that many TLG volunteers face.

       Bearing all that in mind, here's a list of what I do have in my new home:

1.) Indoor plumbing. I'm not just talking about a shower head glued to the wall that drizzles ice water on the shivering, dirty volunteer either. I'm talking a full on shower/bath tub/sink/toilet combo with a seemingly endless supply of pressurized, hot water.

2.) Central heating. Yes, you read that right; I said central heating! No more spooning with an old vodka bottle filled with boiling water for me!


3.) A refrigerator. Only the downstairs kitchen has one though. (The upstairs kitchen only has a dining room set, marble counter tops*, a sink, cabinets, a stove, and an oven.)


4.) Internet. Beautiful, high speed, quality wi-fi and it's mine, all mine!

5.) A real pillow. Only a few of you will understand the significance of this one. Sleeping on an old feather pillow for 4 months sounds very romantic but has proven to be disagreeable in practice.

       The list gets a little more ridiculous beyond this point if you can believe it:

6.) A maid. Her name is Darajani and she loves me because I make my own bed. (I actually had to take a break halfway through writing this because she kicked me out of my room so she could finish mopping.)

7.) A heated towel rack, because the bathtub wasn't enough to make me want to cry.

8.) Satellite television. My family has television in Georgian, Russian, and English. While this isn't terribly important to me now, I just know that movie-craving monster is going to rear his cinematic head. (Also, Animal Planet is still awesome, even in Russian.)

9.) A weight room. Yes. With equipment. I couldn't believe it either.


And if all of this wasn't absurd enough, I was served caviar with my breakfast this morning. Still worried mom?

I want to be explicitly clear on this, I am not taking ANY of this for granted.



*I'm not knowledgable enough to tell if it's faux marble or not, but it's pretty convincing either way.

Meeting With the Teaches

Today I had my introduction meeting with my regional TLG representative Khatuna. Also in attendance were my two co-teachers and the director of my school. This is super exciting for 2 reasons:

       1. I get to start teaching tomorrow. No more lounging about the house, writing hilarious blogs to keep myself sharp.

       2. Now I know who I'm working with for the next 6 months! Hooray! All the speculation is over; I can now say that I hit the jackpot based off of personal experience instead of wishful thinking. My co-teachers (Nana and Tako) are super sweet and were all smiles during the introductions. Not only that, but they are both concerned with my professional success. (Ex. Tako wanted to make sure that I have the materials we are teaching from. She kept asking Khatuna when I would be getting my books, saying how it was "necessary.") They both seem very eager to work with me. I feel confident that I won't have any issue getting them to meet me to plan lessons.

       The director of my school is also worthy of mention. His name is Vakhtang. He speaks English very well and claims that he learned it in only 5 months with the last volunteer. His pride in his school and work is admirable. He welcomed me to the school warmly and said that School #3 is the largest and the best school in the region. He said I was very lucky to be teaching at that school and that they were lucky to have a teacher such as me.

       I couldn't stop grinning over the hospitality that I've come to associate with Georgia and her people. Even the schools exhibit the same practices in welcoming a new teacher. Vakhtang has taken a personal interest in me (a luxury that I didn't have with my last director) and has asked that we be friends. He invited me to go into his office whenever I have free time to talk with him and help him develop his proficiency with the English language. As a TLG volunteer, an open dialogue with my director is imperative to getting my needs as a professional and a teacher met.

The Tale of the Prima Donna, the Magic Robe, and the Crusty Piece of Bread

       Shopping in a Georgian market is an interesting experience. They are outdoors and consist of dozens of tiny shops (and by shop I mean a booth with a few tables and overhead racks laden with colorful items) crammed together under tarps for protection against precipitation. Haggling is commonplace and the shopkeeps will say almost anything to get you to purchase their knock-off, imported goods. The markets are labyrinthine with no apparent rhyme or reason as to the placement of shops by their specialty. If you lose sight of the entrance or your guide you could easily become lost, trapped perpetually in a shopping jungle and subjected to attacks from the wild gypsy children who stalk this mystifying territory, begging for your spare change.

That's the fear anyway.

       The other day my host family and I head to Tibs* for a little back to school shopping. I was after skirts, a bathrobe and some house slippers myself. The skirt chapter of the excursion took place in a mall and it was so uneventful that I didn't buy anything. I was, however, super impressed that the sales girly picked out my size after taking one look at me. I can't even get my size on the first try. Unfortunately, her talents were squandered on me because I will never spend that much on clothes.

       It was after Eka and I left the relative safety of the mall and ventured into the street markets that things got more... how to say... Georgian.

       Eka led me to a tiny booth brimming with a rainbow of bathrobes. The shopkeep eagerly showed me his most expensive items; for 120 lari I could have a Dalmation print treasure for keepsies. The robe wasn't bad as far as quality and, for a moment, I liked the idea of pretending to be Cruella DeVille. Then I remembered that she kills puppies.** Plus, 120 lari? Next, he showed me that, for the same price, a Hello Kitty monstrosity could be mine! I tried it on at his behest, braving the freezing wind winding it's way through Tbilisi to do so. He held up a mirror and said

"Oh! Prima donna!"

Yup, that's me. After voicing my dislike of the color pink (with the language barrier I could only get across the least of what was wrong with it) he moved on to the solid colors.***

       I pointed to a blue one I liked, and the shopkeep's face lit up. He explained that this was a magic robe (I have an eye for these things you know) and if I bought it, I would get married in one week.**** Needless to say, I was intrigued. I tried it on of course, with my new matchmaker spouting off it's advantages all the while: absorbent, pockets, natural, magic, etc. He even said he'd lower the price to 100 lari, just for me! I was pretty much sold except for one thing so while looking in the mirror, I asked

"Prima donna?"

He laughed,

"Yes, of course!"

So I bought it. I spent more than I had expected but, even if it isn't magic, it's still a good robe. As we walked away, the magic robe stuffed unceremoniously in a plastic bag, the shopkeep wished me a happy wedding. Eka leaned into me,

"He's joking."

We'll see, Eka. We will see.

       Next was slippers, but that money-for-goods exchange was normal. What was weird was when I got home and tried to put the slippers on. In the left slipper, much to my big toe's surprise, was a chunk of dried out, old, crusty bread.

Oh Georgia, how I missed thee!



*That's slang for "Tbilisi" that the cool kids use. I'm cool.

**I've always liked the villains in Disney movies better than the heroes, partly because of their impeccable fashion sense. Cruella Deville is no exception to that rule (just look at her!) but killing puppies is going too far. There are other equally beautiful animals she could have chosen from. Snow leopard? She'd get the right color scheme and it's ok because they aren't puppies!

***Throughout this entire exchange, the shopkeep kept saying "Natural, natural." Eka translated for me, of course. I don't know what a "natural" bathrobe is but I'm a sometimes-hippy so I liked the idea.

****This preoccupation Georgian men have with my singledom is hilarious; as if marriage were my only aspiration in life. They're only trying to help. Being 23, a woman, and single in Georgia... Well, I'm practically a spinster! I'll just keep taking taxis everywhere; that seems to be working.

Gori? Yes, Please!

Well, the time finally came. The long anticipated arrival in my new home went swimmingly.*

       I was nervous to meet my shiny-new host family as I remember all the awkwardness at the beginning of last semester with the Ozurgeti gang. Everything is so uncertain because we TLGers really aren't told anything about our upcoming living situation or the people we will be living with for the duration of the semester. Venturing out into the unknown takes some seriously metaphorical balls. Which I have but I was still anxious nonetheless.

       I said my goodbyes to Justina and the Soul House hostel and hopped in a cab. Originally, the cab was only to take me as far as Didube (the train/metro/marshrutka station of Tbilisi) where I would find transport into Gori. En route, my cabbie named Lari** informed me what it would cost to take me all the way. For only 40 lari I could avoid the following scenario: First I would drag and bounce my cumbersome luggage through the crowds and narrow, pot holed streets of Didube in search of a marshrutka. Once I found the marshrutka with my destination of choice, I would desperately try to fit my bags into the back with the belongings of the multitude of other passengers. When that mission was "successfully accomplished," all I would have to is enjoy the hour long ride with my nose strategically positioned in a stranger's armpit (the armpit scenario is best case, if you were wondering). Finally, I and my luggage would be dumped with great pomp and care on the side of the highway outside of Gori where I would proceed to walk or hail down a taxi to go the rest of the way.

      Now, 40 lari may sound pretty steep compared to what that first class marshrutka ride would cost me but keep in mind that I was sitting comfortably in the front seat, seatbelt and all, with my troublesome suitcases tucked securely into the back seat. Hmm, what was a girl to do?

       I didn't regret it. Lari (the cabbie not the cash) and I bonded over our mutual distaste for that Selena Gomez song (something about a love song, baby?) and our shared love of jazz. Best musical experience in a Georgian cab ever. Lari wanted me to marry one of his sons too. (Or maybe just a Georgian man in general, it wasn't clear. The point is I'm beginning to pick up on a trend...)

       My TLG regional representative, Khatuna, and my host-mom-to-be were waiting for me. Mom took me home and the introductions began:

Eka: My host mom and the only female in the household. She speaks almost perfect English and translates everything for me, whether I need it or not. She is cute as a cutie-pie button and sweet as a sweetie-pie candy.

Iago: My mysterious host father. He doesn't say much but he did ask me how long I thought it would take for Georgia to "catch up" with America. I responded with a nice, non-committal (and honest!) "Ar vitsi." (I don't know.)


Gagi: My 14 year old host brother. He's studied in both England and Germany so it goes without saying that his English is pretty darn good. He collects model and remote control planes and he dreams of being a pilot when he grows up despite his parent's protests. (They want him to be a businessman. I say, fly Gagi, fly!) Gagi is pretty sharp too. He asked me why Russia needs the tiny sliver of land in Northern Georgia if they will sell as much land as Alaska to America. I responded with a nice, non-committal (and honest!) "Ar vitsi." (I don't know.)

Koba: My 9 year old host brother. Rumor is, he's the fastest swimmer at the Gori pool, raising the ire of the older boys. My first night in the house, Koba introduced himself by parading his costumes for me in the following order: first Spiderman, followed by Batman, and then Michael Jackson. He is super awesome.

Dezi: My 4 month old host puppy. Hyperactive, smelly, and yappy, Dezi's hobby is humping unsuspecting American's legs. Fortunately, she's confined to her own room. Apparently, "Dezi" is Georgian for that extra toe that roosters have on the back of their leg. When they told me her name, I thought they said "Daisy" as in the flower. I brought this up while speaking with Gagi who laughed and replied that she doesn't look anything like a flower. (I don't think she looks like a miscellaneous rooster toe either but what the hell do I know?)

So there they are, my new host family. All I can say is so far, so good!



*That adverb may be confusing to those of you who know that I can't swim. In that case, replace "swimmingly" with "well."

**I nicknamed him Puli (Money). Despite his good-natured chuckle, I don't think he thought it was as clever as I did. Alas, my genius often goes under appreciated.

I Have An Addiction to New Beginnings

To my loved ones back home, I have arrived and am safe in Tbilisi.

       I am staying at the aptly named "Soul House Hostel," a recommendation by my fellow traveler Justina. It hasn't even been 24 hours since I arrived and I'm already convinced that I won't want to stay anywhere else in Tbilisi. From the moment I showed up on their doorstep (quite literally) this family has been going to bat for me.

       My cab driver (his name was Giorgi if you can believe it) had promised that my belongings and I would be delivered to the address I provided for 25 lari. I agreed as the standard fare from the airport is between 20 and 30 lari. Giorgi insisted upon our arrival at Soul House that we agreed upon 35 lari despite our lengthy conversation in Georgian during the ride. I may have been jet-lagged but I was not confused and I'm pleased to say that I have retained most of my Georgian despite the month long hiatus. Well, the owners of Soul House immediately pounced upon the man, yelling at him in Georgian. I gave him 30 and he went away. (Giorgi wanted me to marry one of his sons. He can definitely forget about it now!) The woman(as soon as I learn her name I will share it) coming to my defense helped me carry my luggage up to my bed ranting about lying taxi drivers the whole way. I love her.

       I have since slept in a well heated room and took a long, hot shower. The two cats here are especially wonderful. I snuggled with the black one with one white whisker for a good part of last night. Between the comfortable beds, the heating, the endless supply of hot water, the cats, and the beyond hospitable owners for only 20 lari a night, Soul House hostel is highly recommended by me to whomever is also wandering through Tbilisi. I have provided their link below:

https://www.facebook.com/soulhousehosteltbilisi

       I had quite a bit of time to reflect on the 6 months ahead during my long flight from Seattle to Amsterdam. I also used that time to read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. I can confidently say that returning to Georgia is one part of fulfilling my "Personal Legend." When I stepped over the threshold into the Tbilisi airport I was greeted by the words "Tbilisi, The City That Loves You" and I was filled with a peace that I didn't know was missing during my vacation at home. A man called "Modi" to his small child and I grinned like the happy idiot I am.

       Is it possible that I feel more at home in another country? Maybe. I have a family here, not to mention some of the best friends I have ever made. I am excited to discover the new connections and relationships that another semester here promises and I am eager to rediscover and strengthen the bonds that I had the dumb, blind luck to stumble upon last semester. My future is promising and the joy I feel at being back in this wonderful country is second to none.

       To my loved ones back home, be comforted knowing that I am happy and know that I am thinking of you. You are what Georgia is missing and (while I am thrilled to be here) visiting regularly, returning home into your arms will be sweet and will always be my priority.