Into Kaheti

Today we spent with friends in Kaheti sightseeing in Signagi. When tourists were looking at the vistas Signagi has to offer, my friends and I strolled along the cobblestone streets eating peanuts from street vendors and looked up at the laundry and mattresses hanging off of balconies. We chatted about diapers and baby carriers and wheat. The children made water ballons and ate popcorn and played on the playground.

We found my godmother there selling souvenirs to the tourists and were showered with free souvenirs ... everything Sophie touched turned into a gift for her from the women selling their wares. While admiring the souvenirs, the neighbor saleswoman asked Giorgi his last name. We learned it was her maiden name and they were 2nd cousins. It seems as though everyone is related here!

We drove my godmother home and the neighbors all sopped to stare at the American in their village. I'm sure it will be the talk of the town tonight!

Once at home, we prepared a supra in the garden and under the grapevines for our friends and in his best Tamada form, Soso led the guests into that place I have only seen at a Georgian table where thoughts of tomorrow completely dissolve and friends come together right here right now. It's as if a ray of light is shining only on now... and now... and now, each moment suspended in the air with every toast.

I need to do an aside here about the art of the Tamada (toastmaster) for those of you who haven't read my earlier blogs. When I first came to Georgia, I loved the Georgian toasting table, but was a bit taken aback by how much drinking it entailed (for the men only thank goodness!). Then, as I got to know the culture better, I began to appreciate the value of a great tamada. For those of you new to this scene, a tamada must be able to out-drink his guests, out-sing his guests and out-orate his guests as if these three things were for sport. The tamada must hold his guests' interest by toasting (after every toast, the entire glass is drunk), singing folk songs in perfect pitch and/or reciting poetry, all from memory, and all night long if the party demands it.

Giorgi's father is such a tamada and I feel blessed and lucky to have him as my father-in-law. He can accomplish that feat of feats at the table, opening the window into a timeless state where all is forgotten but the table. No worries about working the next day or what is happening at home. Only thoughts of affection for those at the table one by one, heartfelt, and then for the children playing in the yard, for our ancestors passed before us and the land around us. A particularly favorite conversation this evening centered around Soso's allegiance to his vineyard as his "other" son and how torn he is when we are in town because Soso feels that he must sometimes choose between his two children. Giorgi, however, was less impressed by this line of reasoning.

We partied into the night, each taking turns having fun with the children or participating int he toasts. As the evening grew dark, the electricity went out for a while. No one batted an eye - all simply went on. Someone stuck a candle into a loaf of bread and light remained at the table. Sophie kept trying to blow it out like a birthday candle. Later in the evening, one of the kids started playing music from a car radio and people began to dance. At midnight on the dot, as if under Cinderella's spell, everyone piled into their cars to travel the hour and a half back into the city.

I wish I could bottle the feeling behind the friendship and parties here. Maybe it's the air or the land or the water, but it seems that in Georgia, sleep and work take a back seat to spending time with friends and family. It's Sunday night and our friends all work full time jobs and have small children. In our house this evening were children ages 1-12 (plus Luca of course), all of whom had a wonderful time together staying up WAY past their bedtime. Nevermind. We're together and happy. Nothing more. Meti araperi. Vikaipot!

After the kisses and goodbyes and clean-up, Soso decided to make coffee for us all. So the four of us sat outside (Sophie and Luca had passed out a little while before everyone left) watching Soso animatedly make coffee and then sat down to drink and process family affairs. The supra's veil lifted with guests departed but we continued to giggle and enjoy one another's company just a little while longer.





Finally, Giorgi and I brushed our teeth in the new running water, brought the children upstairs to our beds and slept.

Playing in Georgia

As jet lag dissolves, Georgia comes into focus again. We've spent much of our time napping and trying to get 4 people onto the same sleep schedule. Not a small feat to be sure.

Sophie and Luca are beginning to get along a bit better. Sophie still is a bit rough with her affections, but Luca handles it thus far. We left Sophie's old toys here and Luca is the perfect age to partake now.

Since we arrived, water has been scarce. Our house is located on the main water line for the suburbs, so whenever there's a water issue in any of the suburbs on our side of town, we must go without water. It makes for an interesting shower schedule. Or lack thereof. Water is also shut off here from the wee hours of the morning until about 8:00 a.m. Another reason to get over jeg lag as soon as possible!

We've been to Mtatsminda a few times already, soaking up the play time when we can. In these pictures you'll see Giorgi's nephew Dato, who is 6 months older than Sophie. You'll also see me holding what looks like a beer, but is a local brewed drink called Kvass. It's brewed like beer but has no alcohol. As a nursing mother, it's my new favorite. One glass makes milk flow like nothing else I've tried!



It's been wonderful to see friends and family here. Sophie is understanding the language, but still not ready to jump in and communicate in Georgian. She's missing the pink house but can rally in true Georgian form and always rises to any occasion. She's especially loving the playgrounds and spending her days with Daddy. Luca is doing well considering his colicky start in life. He even slept through my birthday party the other night in the next room! And those of you who know both Luca and what Georgian parties can be like know it's a great accomplishment!

Getting up and running

After a long flight from MSP to AMS and just before our flight to TBS, Sophie finally gave in to sleep. The first leg of our journey was quite pleasant, considering: we were given bulkhead and a bassinet with an extra seat so we could stretch out a bit. The second leg, however, was not quite so pleasant for me, as I got airsick and had to hand over responsiblity for both kids to Giorgi, who was a champ to take them both for the majority of our 5-hour flight, as I sat with my head between my knees trying not to throw up. Ugh.

For the first time since I've been coming to Georgia, only Giorgi's brother was waiting at the airport with his family. It was wonderful to see them, but strange not to have a huge crowd waiting for hugs and kisses as soon as we passed through the glass doors and entered the country. However, things got a bit more exciting when we all piled into the Toyota T100 that Giorgi had shipped last year (Gocha's family in the back and ours in the front -- sans car seats) and began the final leg of our journey into the back country of Georgia to meet Giorgi's family at the farm where they were finishing up a year-anniversary party of Babuli's death.

In Georgia, after a death, the family mourns seriously for 40 days (e.g. no parties or good times) and then after 1 year has a farewell party for the deceased. This was the party we came upon at dusk after our long journey. Hoards of people were there, the sun had just gone down, and the electricity was out. It was a surreal experience to be descended upon by friends and relatives one by one hugging and kissing but only visibile by the quickly fading light of the day and then only by cigarettes and cell phones. Luca disappeared almost as soon as the car door opened, as the women needed to hold him each and every one. Sophie would have had the same fate, but stuck close to me as she was not ready for the overwhelming family this time. We finally reached our beds when the generator was just getting up and running and slept.

Georgian National Ballet

Last night we finally saw a professional Georgian dance troop. I've wanted to see them for years, but fate didn't schedule it until this trip. It was amazing. I videoed much of it. Over 2 hours they danced, the encore as energetic as the first piece. Truly incredible. I'll let the videos speak for themselves (with some commentary on the side of course). Enjoy!

Here is a view of the Tbilisi streets from the balcony where we stepped outside before the show:

And here are the dances:

This dance is called D'aicee. It is a traditional Georgian wedding dance that some of you might recognize, as Giorgi and I danced it at our wedding here....

Here's a short clip of a swordfighting dance. Yes, those are real swords and yes those are real sparks flying!

Here's a dance called M'hedruli. My favorite part is the knee twirls, but note also the toe ballet...




Here is a knife throwing dance. You can see the knives stuck in the floor and if you look closely, you can see the men throwing more...

Here's the encore. They danced for over 2 hours and then this...

Phone Call

I had to post this video. My mom called as we were putting Sophie to bed. Sophie proceeded to grab the phone out of Giorgi's hands and, as you can see, she had lots of news to report about her time here....

Back in the USSR

So we’re back in Georgia. This trip has been unusual because it’s not unusual any more. We packed up our suitcases and headed to the airport without stress or anxiety. We flew two long and uneventful legs into Tbilisi. The airlines let us take Sophie’s car seat on both, so that was a huge plus (although she refused to sleep for more than 2 hours out of the entire 18 hour trip). The funniest part about our travel was our attempts, to no avail, to get her to sleep. After much time and frustration trying to get her to lie down in the children’s room of AMS (during which she wanted to continue playing), we finally strapped her into her little umbrella stroller and started walking to our next gate 3 hours early.

Forget the quiet, comfortable, lullabye room, free from the bustle of people trying to get to their next flight and free from voices coming over the loudspeaker calling for passengers to board their flight, “or we will proceed to offload your luggage.” Forget alarms going off everywhere we went (and no G didn’t set them off this time!), Sophie folded herself over in the stroller within 2 minutes of our walk to the gate and slept. Granted, it was only for 45 minutes, but it was enough for her to recharge and continue flirting with everyone whose eyes she could catch. And there were many!

So began this trip into the Caucuses. Jet lag was bad once we arrived. We’re only now getting into our regular sleep routine, but thankfully, it has arrived. We’ve visited friends and family as planned and headed into the village to visit G’s grandmother soon after we arrived.

It’s taken years, but I believe I’m finally at the point where it phases me not a bit to pack up the car, hop in, drive the 1 ½ hours into the rustic villages of Georgia and never bat an eye (or, to some of your dismay, reach for the camera) when I see the cows causing a traffic jam, or when I see little old ladies with leathery skin waiting by the side of the road for the day to pass.
Not when I see huge groups of men hanging around two playing a heated game of backgammon, all with little white sticks hanging out of their mouths and rarely a plume of smoke coming out, as they seem to absorb it all on the inhale. Not when I see huge sides of meat hanging from hooks on a roadside stand or grape juice and walnut candies called “churchela” carefully draped over sticks and veiled in a plastic sheet to keep the weather away, displayed in hopes of buyers passing that way. Not when I see fruit trees bursting with persimmons or pomegranates this time of year, or donkeys hauling carts full of dried twigs, for which I’m still unsure the purpose. I don’t get nervous when we travel straddling the two-lane road, creating a “fast lane” out of the space between passing cars, or passing the baby back and forth to play in the front seat with her grandfather for a while before coming back to sit on my lap. I still feel a pang of sadness when I see three-legged dogs looking for scraps of food, but the car goes so fast that I don’t really wonder if they’ll make it until tomorrow any more. I worry not about the Turkish toilet outhouse behind the chicken coop or the dog on a chain, next to starving but loving us nonetheless. And I’m only a little bothered by G’s shortness of tone with me as I try to get the room sorted out but I realize it’s because he hasn’t had a cigarette since we left, as he’s still afraid to smoke in front of his father.

What did get me this time, however, is the power failure at about 10:30 at night. Cold and rainy. No heat and no light and in the middle of nowhere. It rivaled my Outward Bound solo, where I huddled in my sleeping bag in the rain in the woods for 3 days and 2 nights. Ah, memories. But I survived both. And the next day brought the sun. So all was not lost.

This past summer, the family decided to remodel the farm house in Bodbe in hopes of luring some Americans to come for the grape harvest. Alas, this year it wasn’t to be, but G, S & I were able to admire the new remodel for ourselves. They did a good job, opening up the dark rooms and laying nice wood plank floor. Perhaps the most noticeable difference, however, is the fact that everything in the main room is now pink. The walls have a bubble gum hue and the curtains, although white, shimmer with a pink tinge and to top it all off, the light fixtures, triangular in shape, have pink air-brushed tips.

Sophie was afraid of Babo at first, but then warmed up after a while. She crawled all over the new floors and found a huge stuffed dog to be her best friend. If you’ve ever wondered what happens to all of those stuffed animals that people win at State Fairs all over the U.S., I think I’ve found the answer: they’ve made their way into the homes of Georgians all over the country, proudly and centrally displayed in hopes of entertaining visiting children.

I spent lots of time that first day in Babo’s non-remodeled room (as that was where the wood-burning stove sat) trying to get warm and watching the chickens out the window trying to figure out how to escape. Double entendre intended. Finally a bit warmer next to the stove. Babo’s underwear hanging behind it. Just far enough away from the cotton candy life that waited in the next room.

When Sophie slept, I sat upstairs shivering and writing. Staring at bags of clothes I’ve sent over because I don’t use them anymore. G’s mom makes a business out of selling my old clothes. Weird.

I wanted eggs in the morning, but no chickens were laying in the entire village. Both G and his dad made separate trips to find eggs for me, but none were to be found. So I fixed my rice and spinach without the protein and ate it anyway. It was good to have something other than potatoes and bread, the contents of every meal in the village when winter approaches. The Georgians thought I was weird for my eating habits. Turnabout is fair play I guess.

I must sign off to post this entry. More soon…

Photos

First view of Georgia....


Day trip to our cabin in Buriani with best man (and Sophie's godfather, Giorgi) and his daughter Elena. When we went to the town meeting, we found this still working at the entry.

Working in Bodbe: taking wheat to be cleaned and sunflower seeds to be made into oil.

Babo guarded these grapes with a stick so that Sophie could have her picture taken with them. There she is with the grapes and with her Daddy and great-grandmother...