Tbilisi for the third time: September 7th to September 13th

Autumn has arrived in Georgia. Its cooler temperatures beckon us volunteers to travel; because, starting on September 17th, our teaching terms begin, where we will have to stay in our villages/regions to teach.

A group of volunteers, including myself, decided to meet in Tbilisi and from there, go on few day-trips, to Gori and Kazbegi. I have been meaning to go see more of Georgia, and these two regions are good places to visit. Gori is the birthplace of Stalin, and boasts of a museum about his life. I have read that the museum is very informative, but mostly contains information on his early life, before he left Georgia and started a totalitarian state. Besides the museum, Gori has some caves worth exploring, making a day trip from Tbilisi feasible. Kazbegi is a mountainous region in Georgia, similar to Svaneti, only more accessible, due to its proximity to Tbilisi. Kazbegi itself is picturesque mountain, is surrounded by more of Georgia's beautiful countryside and forest. Going to Kazbegi should be a long day trip, or better still, to stay at a guest house and go on a longer hike.

Adam, Tara and I, with our tickets (reserved in advanced) took off on the night train. Unfortunately, we were not in the same cars, which meant for the entire train ride, we were separated. I shared my train cab with three younger Georgians. Fortunately, the young woman who sat across from me spoke English very well, and we were able to talk for hours. As I mentioned before, I enjoy riding on trains, largely because I have been able to meet Georgians, of regions and backgrounds, different than the people in my village. Speaking with these Georgians, I was able to have conversations that I wouldn't normally have in my village. Both parties were able to ask questions about each others' cultures and provide insightful commentary on our own, without fear of offence or unearthing subjects that can be uncomfortable. Among the uneasy subjects, we spoke about: politics, gender roles, concerns over Georgia's rapid growth, and education. I realized that I can act as a confidant to the Georgians who want to give insight on their culture. The resulting conversations were rewarding for both me and my neighbors. We were able to learn a great deal from each other as the train lurched down the tracks.

Upon reaching Tbilisi, I was feeling sick, and noticed on my hip, a swollen lymph node. I decided to call the TLG medical branch and figure out what to do; little did I know, this darn lymph node issue was going to be the theme of the entire Tbilisi trip.

I was sent to a medical clinic in the posh Vasha district of Tbilisi. The clinic I went to was relatively large, my doctor was on the third floor. There were not any real receptionists to let the doctors know you have arrived. There was no evidence of an appointment time, there wasn't even a line to wait in. The first person seen would simply walk into their doctor's office, sit down on the examination table and be attended by the doctor. For those whom are after the first, they would stick their heads in the doorway (usually open) and let the doctor know they are next, while the doctor is busy with the first patient. Following that, they wait impatiently, for the first's examination to be over, and they quickly enter the room precisely after the first leaves the room. The concept of a line is lost in Georgian culture, as a result, the concept of a private doctor visit is lost.

When It came to my turn, I squeezed into her office. My doctor spoke little English, and my rudimentary Georgian was not able to explain symptoms. Luckily we had an interpreter, and I was able to give a gist of my health issue. An ultrasonic scan and a blood sample sent me back to the hostel where I was staying.

The hostel that I stayed at was, the most unique lodging I have been to in Georgia. Hostel Romantique is situated under a DEA building. In the basement, where the entrance to the hostel located, is a large steel gate that must be unlocked for any entrance or exit (the fire marshal would have a fit if he saw this!). The hostel is a large room, with smaller chambered rooms positioned along the walls. The rooms are little bigger than closets and include a roof made from short picket planks, giving the impression of a rudimentary hut. These rooms were not designed for sleeping; the hostel, recently opened a few months ago, was before a brothel. And that, the purpose of the steel gate at the entrance is to deter the old customers. The included wireless internet was highly appreciated, I was able to Skype with my father and girlfriend after two weeks without internet in my village.

What made me enjoy this hostel was its friendly staff. The hostel was run by two women, who would take turns running the desk in 24 hour shifts. Amazingly, both women were effervescent and were always a joy to speak with. Along with the colorful staff, the current patrons were worldly travelers. From many nations and regions of the world, the travelers came to this ex-brothel, attracted to the inexpensive rates (10 Lari a night) and the complimentary dinner. Every night, a meal of soup and wine was given at seven o'clock, served in clay vases and drank from clay bowels and amphorae. In the center of the hostel, a large common area, sprinkled with tables and chairs, connected the rooms. The other TLG volunteers and I spent much of our time in our subterranean hostel. Lounging about and meeting new travelers, which was a new concept of vacation for me. I'm used to continually moving and roaming through Georgia. Staying put while on vacation is new to me, surprisingly, I liked the relaxed atmosphere and the lack of urgency.

Each day, I woke up a little more sick. Due to my deteriorating health, I was ill suited for going out for long periods in Tbilisi, and making trips to Kazbegi and Gori. Plus, I was ordered by my doctor to relax and not strain myself climbing up mountains and exploring caves, or even drinking the complementary wine at my hostel! I did, however, went on small excursions, such as a walk with a few volunteers to a park, where they played American football.

On Tuesday, I managed to crawl out of the hostel and attend the Spain v. Georgia football game. Getting the tickets involved some work, and was a task in itself. The ticket stand was at another stadium, near my medical clinic on the outskirts of Tbilisi. Upon reaching our destination, we were reminded of how Georgians have a distaste for waiting in lines, and instead crowd around the counter. To make matters worse, there weren't any English speakers around and the teller was behind a one way window, making hand gestures and body language (the foreigner's best method of communication) impossible. Somehow, we managed to buy the right amount of tickets in the same section.

When it came time for the game, our hostel staff painted on our faces, with their own lipstick, the Georgian flag. With our faces emblazoned in sinful red color, we took the metro, and soon found ourselves among the throng heading to the game. Predictably, we were soon separated upon leaving the metro station. The streets were full of people in red and white, as well as cars and taxis which were hopelessly trying to get away from the stadium. Police officers in full riot gear patrolled stadium.

After reaching our seats and waiting for a spell of time, the volunteers and I met back up in time for the game to start. Spain was a very aggressive team and the ball was on Georgia's side most of the time. Having either anticipated or was their nature, Georgia played defensibly by keeping in a formation. Spain was not ably to score until late in the second quarter. Up until then Georgian moral was very high. Spain is at this time the number one team, and everyone I spoke with expected Spain to win, and having only scored one goal the entire game should be considered a victory in Georgia's part. The game ended and we hired a taxi (after walking a safe distance from the stadium) and headed back to the hostel. The metro station was absolutely packed, and any hope of getting back within a reasonable by subway time was hopeless.

On Wednesday, I saw for the third time the doctor. My health was worsening, I was running out of money, and my friends were going back to their villages. It was time to call. When I came into contact with the staff, they agreed to pick me up and drive me to the clinic. This time, I was given a personal ride by Maia from TLG. When the doctor saw me, I wasn't given a diagnosis, but I was given a prognosis, which was a cocktail of antibiotics, antiviral, and antifungal medications. The insurance policy of TLG has its volunteers pay 50% for prescriptions, which meant I had to pay about 100 lari for all of my medicine. September, although not the most extravagant month, has had the most superfluous spending. My sickness, I am convinced was caused by a bug bite near my swollen lymph node, which had caused the swelling, consequentially disrupting my immune system enough to allow in a common cold, most likely caught in a hostel, to invade. The antibiotics were very helpful, but everything else didn't make an effect. That afternoon, I purchased a train ticket back home for that morning. Train tickets are best bought in advance in Georgia, since they often sell out the day of the train departure. Fortunately, I didn't have to stay in the brothel again; my friends Griffin and Megan had me stay with them in their apartment.

When ill in another country, Getting better is more of a priority than thrift. Most of the medicine were profligacies, but I had to buy them, and I know that the antibiotics had helped me out. When I returned to my village, Maya would call periodically, to make sure I have been getting better, which fortunately, I was. After the ordeal, I feel that TLG did a good job taking care of me, and am able to start my first week of school, healthy and prepared. 

I can walk on water. The photo was taken in Tbilisi.

With friends in our hostel.

Thought this was really cool. You don't get this in America.