Friday, November 17th to Monday, December 3rd: Georgian wedding

At the far end of my village lies the home of my friend, Shorena. Her Sister, Salome was to have a wedding in Batumi. Georgian weddings are a big deal, and I was invited to come. In a addition to a free night of delicious food and ample drink, Shorena, being a dancer was to perform at the wedding reception. I told her my involvement in ballroom dancing, and was willing to teach it to her. Soon after learning this, Shorena requested that we dance at Salome's wedding. I imagined doing tango or cha-cha, but could see the guests forming all sorts of misinformed opinions of our otherwise platonic friendship. We decided to dance the jive. being that it is a light hearted dance, I felt it was appropriate for a wedding.

The request that we dance at Salome's wedding was made a two weeks before the date. I had to: teach Shorena jive steps, introduce to her the styling particular to that dance, and create a short choreographed routine to a song. Shorena had me come over to her house and we would practice on a covered porch on a smooth mosaic floor at the entrance to her house (after being royally fed). Miraculously, Shorena learned the dance quickly; obviously due to forte as a dance instructor, and partly due to her already being a dancer. Georgian dancing is highly energetic and there are kicking motions that are similar to jive. Within the first week, we had danced a number of moves to an array of songs. By the second week, we had just finished a routine to the tune "Why do fools fall in love?" Our last practice, I was notified that we were to have 500 spectators for this humble performance!

When it came to be the day of the wedding, my family demanded that I look my best. Donning my only suit, I walked to meet Shorena. I arrived that morning at Salome and Shorena's home. I brought with me Sir Walter Scott's Ivanhoe, which was a great asset in providing entertainment while waiting for the wedding to start. During this period, family and guests showed up to the house. After some greetings, pictures and toasts, we left in a column of cars, honking horns to announce the marriage. The first stop would be the church. 

Inside the parish's church, there was an orthodox priest who gave the wedding services. It was all in Georgian, but you could get the gist of it. At this wedding it was not all that important for people to be in attendance. Some were loitering outside the building and others were just casually standing in watch of the ceremony. It was surprising to me how light the actual ceremony was. At one point, the priest had to shush some of the more noisy of the crowd. On another occasion, the priest's I-phone went off; he simply handed it to his assistant, who answered the phone for him! From there, our caravan sped off to Batumi, wafts of dun air rotated ellipsoidal above as tires tore through the dirt road from the parish.

I had a really bad time at this point. Part of Georgian weddings consist of driving around town, honking horns, announcing to the world their flourishing matrimony. I didn't mind the gloating on an otherwise private event, what upset me was the bad driving. Georgian drivers already take risks, but this was too much. The driver who's car I was in was more fervent in his display of driving. He would tailgate, run red lights, go into opposing traffic, etc. Witnessing this on a daily basis, I am somewhat used to risk-taking, and for the most part, am able to tolerate a moderate amount. Our driver was much more avid on showing off, which I can not stand. I never felt the need to punch anyone in Georgia before now.

Once out of the car, the caravan stopped and got on a small ferry in Batumi harbor. We took off and went on a short trip along the Batumi shore. The boat traveled on a mirrored surface, the Black Sea was very calm this day. Opaque jellies swam just below the water's surface. We took pictures of the couple, and simply enjoyed the sunny day along the Black Sea coast. The boat ride lasted no more than forty minutes and the group once again piled into their cars. I went into a separate car this time. Thankfully not all of the drivers were so eager to die with their passengers.

The restaurant we arrived at was a banquet hall. Every table was filled with the rest of the guests. Up until now, our group was no more than twenty five people. The square hall contained the 475 other guests, already sitting on purple and white decorated tables, feasting and toasting to the newly arrived guests. At the end was an elevated platform where the bride and groom sat themselves, away from the other guests. Adjacent to their right were 4 singers and a keyboard. The group was hired to sing polyphonic Georgian music, as well as provide recorded music for dancing.

Right away we sat and ate among the revelers. It was Georgian traditional dishes, and a white wine especially made for weddings. The restaurant had a designated toast master, or Tamada. my neighbors applauded his eloquence and said he was a good tamada. By the way he was tosting, I imagined the message he carried sounded like this "Go forth and have lots of Georgian babies, which will strengthen our country against our sworn enemies! Meanwhile, we shall have yet another excuse to get really drunk!" It may be that I am just getting homesick or, I have become jaded to the whole supra tradition.

Having to constantly refuse alcohol being thrust upon me is a downer. Seriously, I'm don't like the feeling of drunkenness all that much. To many Georgians, getting drunk is the greatest feeling in the world. What is more, hospitality is tied into drinking. Men would hound me for not drinking, like that of a high school party. I was not going to be pressured to drink. Firmly refusing, however politely will inevitably leave most of them satisfied. Though with some, I have to just refuse several times, consequentially bringing on offence. In my mind, these hosts just want to see how an American gets drunk. I no longer care for offending, Their opinions I simply ignore.

Towards the end of the night, on of the children left an impression on my opinion of Georgian culture. I felt a tap on my shoulder. Spinning around on my chair, I faced this boy. His eyes were polished brown spheres wiggling in their sockets. His began to sway and stumble, holding himself up with tables and chairs. By then he and his sister had been swooping up the untended glasses of wine, in imitation of their elders. Trying to dissuade children to stop guzzling wine was an even bigger downer. I wish they knew what they were doing to themselves, but unfortunately they have few role models to look after. That being said, I am so thankful for my host family, who are much more moderate towards drinking. They are a beacon of moderation in a society that boosts of its dipsomaniac behavior.

Not all of the wedding was bad. I enjoyed spending time with my friends Nino, Shorena and Mari. Those gals are great! I feel deep friendship are more obtainable with Georgian women than with Georgian men. They do not thrust drinking upon me, or behave chauvinistically. Seriously, some men don't know how to act around foreigners! Puffing out their chests, driving erratically and pouring drinks down their guest's throat is not helping my opinion of them. Plus, women generally speak better English. Communication flows and friendships ensue .

We were able to dance to pop music, as well as traditional dancing. I am slowly getting the gist of Georgian dancing. The encouragement from my dance partners bears my courage to try it some more, and am ready to try again when the situation calls!

Towards the end of the night, I was able to witness justice upon the most wicked. The dipsomaniacs who professed their prodigal tolerance to drink could be seen in the parking lot, pouring onto the sidewalk all the night's toasts in jerking cathartic gestures.

Watching drunk uncles and cousins hit on my lady friends made me laugh. Watching drunk uncles and cousins fight in the parking lot at the end of the event (partly due to rejection) was a jewel of a memory!

After waking up at Shorena's house, my head awash with yester night's events. I was entreated to breakfast. Before I realized what was going on, we were returning to the banquet hall, for another round of reckless abandonment! I was thankful for Ivanhoe, and its remedy for my boredom.

I am so thankful for being included in events such as this wedding, and will note the good points as time passes, but I am starting to harbor ennui for my life here. I have had burst of homesickness during the wedding.

With only a few weeks left, I have the temptation to live on autopilot, and wait for the rest of my time to pass as quickly as possible. Living this way is rotten, and to combat this mindset, I remember what I came to Georgia for.

What has been helping my attitude are some of my students. Getting to learn from them and to see them communicate gives meaning to my work. There has been so much improvement in my students, and I can see that my influence on them shall continue in my absence!

Another activity which I have been enjoying is harvesting mandarins. This month, the mandarins, which provides as a source of income, to the homesteads of Gorgadzeebi, have ripened. A great amount of, picking, carrying, sorting and storing the citrus fruit has taken place in the village homesteads. Including my host family. I have been actively helping in the harvest. At first arrival, I was dissuaded by my family. I persisted my offers to help and they relented, there was far too much work to be done to pass any offers of assistance. Clippers were handed to me. Short instructions were given (the stem should be cut precisely where it attaches to the peel, so as to prevent the stem from puncturing neighboring fruit.) Next, I was with my family in our mandarin grove. My favorite part of the work is climbing the trees for the largest and juiciest mandarins on the high boughs . Being the most expensive, it is appropriate that they are the hardest to obtain. Up top, I am exposed to the warming sun, and to fantastic views of the valley. Although the work is long, I am warm in the sunny weather, and enjoying spending time with my family.

I didn't expect to get along so well with the Zoidze family, and it is going to be difficult to leave them. I never wanted my presence here to hurt anyone, and I never expected my leaving to cause pain. They want for me to come back and visit. I reciprocate their affections and wish to return, perhaps with friends or family of my own. I do not even have any plans for when I get back to the states, much less any plans on when to come back to Georgia. I am left with an uneasy feeling of the future, that nothing is settled and set.

Land lubbers on the Batumi cruise.

This picture was taken before our dance.

This little girl and I were so bored, we would make faces at each other through out the evening.

My brother, Levani

My sisters, Shorena to the left, and Khatuna to the right.

Shorena and I at Khatuna's birthday party.

My mother Naira.

We kept one of the kittens, now named Kato. This cat now spends its time crying and being pampered.

A fraction of the mandarin harvest.

Near my house, I found a perfect spot to read. On this rock, you are surrounded by falling leaves, under a canopy which block both wind and sun. 

Jellyfish!