tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74059976630237019012024-03-19T05:26:57.753-07:00Kargaaad! An adventure in GeorgiaTyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-53826283543839823852013-01-15T13:38:00.000-08:002013-01-15T13:38:18.748-08:00Conclusion Post<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Last post,
folks. I'm here to tell of my last two weeks of teaching.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The second to
last week, I ran the classrooms, and my Co-teacher provided translation wherever
needed. One of the activities I made up was a way for the students to tell the
time. I would send one student up to the front of the classroom, and they would
think of a time in their heads. With their arms acting as arms of a clock, they
would show the class their time. I would then ask "What time is so-and-so?"
And the students would try and respond to the correct time. I had to tell the
clocks to think of more difficult times, because the class was getting the idea
so quickly!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Once each
student got to go up, and if there was any extra time, I would teach the
students Hangman. I realize now that hangman teaches not only spelling, but classroom
management. I would only call on the students sitting quietly and raising their
hand. My once unruly and chaotic students have suddenly become well behaved! I
should have done this months ago. Hangman would also teach students the subtle
differences between English letters and how they are spoken. Oftentimes
students will confuse 'c' for 's' or 'k' for 'c', or 'e' for 'i'. When saying
the alphabet in Georgian, you don't say the name, but the sound. So ATM would
be 'ahh tuh mm' I have needed to explain the importance of the difference,
being as the sounds of the letters change, and can cause confusion if they are
pronounced phonetically. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The reason why I
have been playing games was to instill a bit of a legacy in my Co-teachers. I
have often wondered how the English lessons will run when I'm gone. I hope my
two Co-teachers will carry on with different lesson plans. If not, than I just
taught my students games to play. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">From teaching at
the primary level, I realize just how little you learn at school. What is more
important the student discovers how to learn, and the techniques taught to them
will aid them when they finally settle down!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I am surprised
at how many of my students have learned these past few months. My students are
much more adept in carrying on a conversation. No longer do they keep to the
basics, but can babble fluently, even if we throw in some Georgian vocabulary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Walking home with
of my students has been more of an impact when compared to the classroom. We
are able to freely communicate about our surroundings. My walking companions
are able to speak about their surroundings. They can converse about trees,
oranges, mandarins, stones, snakes, flowers, butterflies...and cow poop!
"What is it?" Asked one of my students, as he pointed to a fresh cow-patty
in the road. Unable to refrain from ignoring him, I replied 'defecation.' The
word soon spread to the rest of the students, and 'defecation' became the most
English word of them all. Another question asked, "Taylor, what means Opo
Gangnam style?" That question stumped me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The last week of
school had ended as the school had begun: a large chaotic mess where little
learning was accomplished. I wouldn't call it a waste of time. This lack of
classes was due to a end of the year concert performance. The children would
put on singing, comedy, dance, and musical acts. Christmas themed, colorful,
the whole school was decorated in a Christmas decor. Among the acts, two of my eighth
grade students had requested me to teach them a Cha-Cha-Cha routine with some
music. The past two weeks were spent finalizing the performance. Along with
theirs, the staff and students wanted to see me dance, so I threw in a short
Salsa routine as well with another one of my students. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">When it came
time for the concert, the school faculty and parents were in attendance. The
concert went smoothly, and the acts were heartwarming and cute. The dances went
well and got a good reaction out of the crowd. I'm so proud of my dance
students! Together we introduced Latin dance into the village!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I wrote this
message a month from when school ended. Since then, I was traveling in Turkey.
This is a story in itself, and would distract the reader too much on the aims
of the blog ( to highlight the travels and insight I gained while teaching and
living in Georgia.) I went back to Georgia after the new year, to spend the
rest of the time with my host family for a few days of celebrating Orthodox
Christmas on the 6th. Although the final day was stressful, due to my bags
being lost while in Turkey. I had to deal with one airline company while
planning on how to get to Tbilisi before my flight. At the same time, I was
giving my goodbyes and collecting souvenirs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">And that is the
end of the blog. I hope you enjoyed reading about one English teachers
experience in the Republic of Georgia. In sum, I've seen a peaceful regime
change, had coffee with boarder guards, made my own wine, explored cave cities,
learned a foreign language, gained teaching experience, met some awesome
people, and saw a lot of history! I thoroughly enjoyed writing this blog, and
sharing what I have seen with you all. If you ever are considering visiting
Georgia or teaching English abroad, I highly recommend visiting this little
part of the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-42515339676811353672012-12-03T03:54:00.003-08:002012-12-03T04:15:39.777-08:00Friday, November 17th to Monday, December 3rd: Georgian wedding<h1>
</h1>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">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! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">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 <u>Ivanhoe</u>, 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. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">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 . <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">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!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">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!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">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 <u>Ivanhoe</u>, and
its remedy for my boredom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">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!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">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.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">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.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd66UL6WIPEf_yWAXh0WwffDq6sMwfjW0NmvUbaIlZ_Rst8Vlz3goyTNEhbkO-waRz5nXLStTNC0rehuRWGEUsqlXkIfSXZkX7VIAya4jOoXRkvEQkilmxby4Fu0IWs1qUPsjkn8_Wqfo/s1600/DSCF0980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd66UL6WIPEf_yWAXh0WwffDq6sMwfjW0NmvUbaIlZ_Rst8Vlz3goyTNEhbkO-waRz5nXLStTNC0rehuRWGEUsqlXkIfSXZkX7VIAya4jOoXRkvEQkilmxby4Fu0IWs1qUPsjkn8_Wqfo/s320/DSCF0980.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Land lubbers on the Batumi cruise.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNAFJJ5BCzxdZjApbx6yay7rumIoxCKEiv2Q_H4c7xh-ukDSYcv7dcBI0z3ytAGVKaMWVQY8qtJfmCr8f7MjXI3FeCQPcQ0mnwMCqV_x0SYeuhMtIZdNZ3GZsn5hu-prN8bCxgI9yVsNY/s1600/DSCF1001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNAFJJ5BCzxdZjApbx6yay7rumIoxCKEiv2Q_H4c7xh-ukDSYcv7dcBI0z3ytAGVKaMWVQY8qtJfmCr8f7MjXI3FeCQPcQ0mnwMCqV_x0SYeuhMtIZdNZ3GZsn5hu-prN8bCxgI9yVsNY/s320/DSCF1001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture was taken before our dance.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirzu3fyZFwHfvOuO4bYmZObwtUDrbzw4LY6mX5yXulp-uUWyGoj5rlZSrEq0hRg2N_4mLIdOhJYvJ-YyVabU_8jjgACFdhyQYj-RWLmXjb0v1-i_ByjtxbOn5DQKKu_oIQNAmr77nU_08/s1600/DSCF1008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirzu3fyZFwHfvOuO4bYmZObwtUDrbzw4LY6mX5yXulp-uUWyGoj5rlZSrEq0hRg2N_4mLIdOhJYvJ-YyVabU_8jjgACFdhyQYj-RWLmXjb0v1-i_ByjtxbOn5DQKKu_oIQNAmr77nU_08/s320/DSCF1008.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little girl and I were so bored, we would make faces at each other through out the evening.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZcRL7oFdcyxqpN4q5xhaRx1DnsbFDMQOoHr2zBsfHHUJve8iZk21SPSQVtc2EkHgnjjzMKETRBYURvosoAksIg3Aul4bSi39dspuNLIeImM457qBC5K2wsx5zuyTRpdS2TltNIyaznkI/s1600/DSCF1019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZcRL7oFdcyxqpN4q5xhaRx1DnsbFDMQOoHr2zBsfHHUJve8iZk21SPSQVtc2EkHgnjjzMKETRBYURvosoAksIg3Aul4bSi39dspuNLIeImM457qBC5K2wsx5zuyTRpdS2TltNIyaznkI/s320/DSCF1019.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My brother, Levani</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqffQFZPyZyAQDyC2I8P9nA2n0Lq4hMI4qb7fZrbwbrSlolIEOqY5-81pOoEGa1mgdAKerK4aCe7Es5EuFeOp1Pnofi-vYfW__l2YBsee-vluOEtNbtO6Llc9-QMPQElSzw_0jxhMR3o/s1600/DSCF1023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqffQFZPyZyAQDyC2I8P9nA2n0Lq4hMI4qb7fZrbwbrSlolIEOqY5-81pOoEGa1mgdAKerK4aCe7Es5EuFeOp1Pnofi-vYfW__l2YBsee-vluOEtNbtO6Llc9-QMPQElSzw_0jxhMR3o/s320/DSCF1023.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sisters, Shorena to the left, and Khatuna to the right.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsyY63tHpLbHgZ8vWAOf7W045jopwZEycpEeptIgZNQqvzHOY62uPlP8R8DGumBy8y2DvViu6rmCiCRD4nwuB4GNPkf61PpDFuKXgSnSBryBhfJvPyDMFAUI5axq9bA-uuDEAR6WMmxtA/s1600/DSCF1033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsyY63tHpLbHgZ8vWAOf7W045jopwZEycpEeptIgZNQqvzHOY62uPlP8R8DGumBy8y2DvViu6rmCiCRD4nwuB4GNPkf61PpDFuKXgSnSBryBhfJvPyDMFAUI5axq9bA-uuDEAR6WMmxtA/s320/DSCF1033.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shorena and I at Khatuna's birthday party.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilSjTE74PNiWknzeTx2UP3Y7e2Lps4BEpgt4zmYAuMna4SRLqACk_mJzJmKd9bjqKjbgPEjuZjYAVjMxhIV8P3AQlgngEj0LrD6zxdI3H3XLG6QW6K-UJJ-DhowkQQT16ny6CZ8okQtTA/s1600/DSCF1088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilSjTE74PNiWknzeTx2UP3Y7e2Lps4BEpgt4zmYAuMna4SRLqACk_mJzJmKd9bjqKjbgPEjuZjYAVjMxhIV8P3AQlgngEj0LrD6zxdI3H3XLG6QW6K-UJJ-DhowkQQT16ny6CZ8okQtTA/s320/DSCF1088.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mother Naira.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_VlcG6XYoMgjW4fXzxqNSAHzQ7pNkaDDEmvG2ybE0YlslvpL1uihKCau-xH69o51P4VIrxrau8-fNbjJkO_SklUpc1WtR1BZEL5B8i81zDDGWudrLzT0Cji6Lbg55amwcf8ttLNiCzkw/s1600/DSCF1093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_VlcG6XYoMgjW4fXzxqNSAHzQ7pNkaDDEmvG2ybE0YlslvpL1uihKCau-xH69o51P4VIrxrau8-fNbjJkO_SklUpc1WtR1BZEL5B8i81zDDGWudrLzT0Cji6Lbg55amwcf8ttLNiCzkw/s320/DSCF1093.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We kept one of the kittens, now named Kato. This cat now spends its time crying and being pampered.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcjq3Qu3mxgS7P0sD13l-qNANsQgAurFd9xxeggyKkbxMkdF1bnSx5_VQOr8i9kpjLSMcGl5scyyE-zCNekYw-g84AqT8J3Qq7BdsoBwB1YrJHVQubyZJ8VY1m-4TWjLHL86Z_whlWYLk/s1600/DSCF1099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcjq3Qu3mxgS7P0sD13l-qNANsQgAurFd9xxeggyKkbxMkdF1bnSx5_VQOr8i9kpjLSMcGl5scyyE-zCNekYw-g84AqT8J3Qq7BdsoBwB1YrJHVQubyZJ8VY1m-4TWjLHL86Z_whlWYLk/s320/DSCF1099.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fraction of the mandarin harvest.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyXBB4rn3RiNoqPP_LUvJNE-FxrRO0lW3NSQn2V07U5aFdeSxhF07I1WMZtOa2ELhg25JcLbuG1dZLqm7XyjOzdnHR3qgdZn67aRLyeH-9iDvQBrHA1n6wrRSLfDU2pDXcL5E1HuwLX-k/s1600/DSCF1103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyXBB4rn3RiNoqPP_LUvJNE-FxrRO0lW3NSQn2V07U5aFdeSxhF07I1WMZtOa2ELhg25JcLbuG1dZLqm7XyjOzdnHR3qgdZn67aRLyeH-9iDvQBrHA1n6wrRSLfDU2pDXcL5E1HuwLX-k/s320/DSCF1103.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">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. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJt1ag-XXhm2nDGBSjUeuscV7rS5ats_Eu8wWMOOoibx6ZlOhPyahYXb9Gpakhz-Owy8uqbPRRZVn82nWgUZ6ULkl_7mk6Q5hLgYk8z5q71EFuOT_P1_ySilu4_Nh1W34d3f1dc713BYw/s1600/DSCF0986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJt1ag-XXhm2nDGBSjUeuscV7rS5ats_Eu8wWMOOoibx6ZlOhPyahYXb9Gpakhz-Owy8uqbPRRZVn82nWgUZ6ULkl_7mk6Q5hLgYk8z5q71EFuOT_P1_ySilu4_Nh1W34d3f1dc713BYw/s320/DSCF0986.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jellyfish!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span>
TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-47065077413492230332012-12-01T01:35:00.000-08:002012-12-03T04:02:33.524-08:00October 31st Halloween<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">As part
of a cultural exchange, I felt inclined to show the children the customs of
Halloween. Some of the other volunteers had designs of their own, mostly
including pumpkin carving, and candy. I decided to so something similar.
Firstly, I had to gather the materials. Luckily, the Bazaar had the required
paper supplies for masks and spooky decorations. Although the paper was in small
demand, it was still quite expensive in Georgian terms, at 20 pages per Lari. Candy
however was inexpensive and readily available. The best candy shops and stalls
were located in a half cylinder warehouse of corrugated steel, near the bus
station. A kilogram of hard candy was sufficient, and would prove useful for my
other designs. The pumpkins were more difficult matter of obtaining. The
regular, rounded pumpkins so necessary for carving were in short supply.
Instead, of being orange and round, they were ellipsoidal and pale green. The
flesh was much too thick for any carving, even with the proper knife and I had
only a pocket knife with a smooth blade. Luckily, after a further digging into
other areas of the market, I did find two perfect specimens, and purchased them
at the asking price. With two pumpkins, matches, candles, 80 sheets of paper
and a kilogram of candy, I had the supplies needed for the holiday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">My
family was quite curious about why I had bought two pumpkins, when there we had
a garden of ripe pumpkins already at home. I explained by drawing a pumpkin on
a piece of paper, followed by an arrow to a new drawing of a pumpkin of
identical shape and size, with the standard Jack-o'-lantern face. In all
respect, they probably didn't understand, but just accepted that they will find
out in time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Before Wednesday
October 31 rolled around. I notified my students and co teachers of the Halloween
event, my students were enthusiastic on learning. I told them to bring paper
for mask making, unsure if I had enough. That day, I brought colored pencils,
crayons, scissors string, and of course two pumpkins. My first class, the 6th
graders were very excited on learning about Halloween. I had planned on having
an impromptu meeting with interested students after the school lessons were
over. Instead, my co-teacher thought would be better for the 4th grade to spend
their time making masks. With the knowledge I know now, it was better that I
celebrated Halloween with a limited number of students. The contents of this
post will reveal why. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">With multi-colored
paper in their hands, my 4th grade class was ready for mask making. I drew on
the board: a bear mask, a mummy mask, a fish mask, a scarecrow mask, a cat
mask, and a dog mask. A few had chosen a mummy for a face; most however, were
quite taken with the bear. The class time was spent making these masks. I hovered
around, providing advice, encouragement, and input. When it came time for the
string, I cut into 18 inch long strips, the twine required to fit the masks to
their faces. A simple double knot through two small holes, cut into the sides
of the faces, just under the eyes did the trick. Some students were independent,
the majority was not so independent. I had to do a lot of knot tying that day! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">With the
masks complete I had to show them how to trick or treat. I had them don their
many-colored bear masks, and a few mummies and dogs. I wrote on the board
"Trick or Treat" and had them pronounce it. Then, I kicked them out
of the classroom and into the hallway. The door closed. I waited for a knock.
The knock never came. I again, opened the door and told them to knock. This
time, I herd a rattle. When I opened the door, I opened it with a kilogram of
candy in my hands. A few students greeted me with a "Trick or Treat!"
but most just glared at the bag of candy held in my arms. I wish I had taken a
picture of all the masked faces staring at me. I partitioned the candy out to
the children and had them enter the classroom. By the time the students each
had a piece of candy, the class was over. My reward: an enormous applause and "Thank
You."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I had
another class that day, it was with the 2nd graders. The co-teacher and I
decided that it wasn't best to have the same treatment. The classroom was too
ill managed, and we didn't find it correct. I would have liked to do the same
with them, but I didn't push the motion any further. The second grade class was
shorter anyways. To make masks and hand out candy in such short
time...impossible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">With the
my daily classes at an end, it was time to carve the pumpkins. I gathered the
two pumpkins, stored in the room. My staff didn't know what I was doing, they
kept on telling me it was food, and that we should cook them up and eat them. I
had to ignore them, it would become clear to them once they see the spooky
faces leering projected candle light towards them. With my pocket knife and the
two pumpkins, I withdrew to the front of the school. In the open air, I proceeded
to carve. From the start, I could tell it wasn't going to work. The knife was
much too soft. I need a carving knife to use. What is more, the students
watching became too riled up. They didn't know what I was doing, and like the
staff, tried to explain to me that these were for food. They crowded around me,
getting too close to the blade. I didn't want to cut anyone! They didn't
understand, and didn't have the patience to just watch. Some students even took
the pumpkin I wasn't working on, and were tossing it up into the air and
catching it! The plans and Ideas I was making were quickly failing. I am trying
to make a fun lesson for them, but once again, they proved too unruly. This is
why there isn't an English club. This is why I don't attend the older students'
classes. They act like clowns when together. I wasn't going to tolerate it any
longer. I gave up. I put the knife in my pocket, and gathered my two pumpkins.
I was to retreat into the teachers lounge and from there, carve a pumpkin to
show them. They could just wait or go home, from the behavior of the worst I no
longer cared. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">At that
moment of dejection, my 8th grade class came to the rescue. My 8th grade class,
had me come into their classroom. Giuli was teaching her English class at that
time. With the help of my Co-teacher I explained what I was doing and were able
to understand what was going on. Giuli and I decided to have a Halloween party
similar to earlier that day. In addition mask making, we were pumpkin carving. From
that class, one of the students had got a large knife from a nearby house. The
10 inch blade was just what was needed for carving. I was able to make two
small trapezoidal eyes, a triangular nose and a mouth with a few square teeth. You
couldn't do these things in America, bringing a knife into a public school is
considered a notch down from an act of terror. While I was carving one
jack-o'-lantern, I had the students scrape guts out of the other. In that 45
minutes, We managed to carve two pumpkins make masks, and enjoy another round
of trick-or-treating. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">It is
amazing how plans in this country can go from failure and frustration to a
startling success. You can not plan on anything working as you hope. One can only
put faith in its people and hope for something unexpected to ensue, it always
does.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9FfA2aOkP4jSEj7fknlhhR1wirMCPzdA4vQUBA5tjLM3IXP-d-FsUcBx_61hIMyt3wH_NQOeoXdmjRkX7CtYbXy1qxVfVY9vqipWIkW547oZRQWClflq4rVAfoYB92sw5DwgZH4IdYs/s1600/DSCF1010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9FfA2aOkP4jSEj7fknlhhR1wirMCPzdA4vQUBA5tjLM3IXP-d-FsUcBx_61hIMyt3wH_NQOeoXdmjRkX7CtYbXy1qxVfVY9vqipWIkW547oZRQWClflq4rVAfoYB92sw5DwgZH4IdYs/s320/DSCF1010.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pumpkin with Cote.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-23744140703460737842012-11-08T08:18:00.001-08:002012-11-08T08:18:13.186-08:00Saturday November 3rd: Stalin Museum<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">This
weekend, I decided to visit the Stalin museum. Situated in the city of Gori, it
was a great building dedicated to the most famous Georgian of all time. The
museum is famous for being slanted towards Stalin, who is seen as a hero of the
people in Gori.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The city
is nestled in the plains a few hours west of Tbilisi. The surrounding hillsides
are bare and dun. Early November weather is cold with grey clouds blocking out
the sun. The buildings were all built cement square block common during the
communist era. Businesses are on the bottom floors, and apartments make up the
top. Instead of painting the otherwise dull buildings in bright colors, like
Batumi or Tbilisi, Gori embraces the brown and the grey colors. From far away,
Gori blends in with its surrounding hillsides. The residents walked quietly
down the streets, conservatively dressed. From what I have seen, I imagine the
city motto as: "Don't stick out."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
museum itself is a great square structure, reminding one of the Dodge's palace
in Venice. Having little ornamentation, the veneer of the museum predicts a
cold interior which is exactly what is in store for the museum's patrons. In
the front of the museum, under a columned shelter, lies Stalin's childhood
home. Made of brick and mortar, his home shows the world his humble origin,
located in the town center in the middle of a park.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Inside
the museum are many marble busts, statues, portraits, engravings and embroidery,
all with Stalin's image. My favorite medium: traditional rugs of various
peoples from central Asia. Each rug has Stalin's face in the center, with
traditional design patterns around the edges. Contrary to a persistent belief
that Soviet times were culturally oppressive, Soviet policy was not
Russo-centered. The Soviet Union was an attempt to forge a new society of many
peoples, and locals were encouraged to embrace their heritage. These rugs
retain their cultural uniqueness, simultaneously giving praise to the Soviet
cult leader. Similar examples could be see in other tributes to Stalin: Wood
carvings, jewelry, porcelain all had regional uniqueness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Aside
from a security guard in the front, I didn't see a single man working in that
museum. Most of the employees were past middle age. They would conduct tours in
Russian or Georgian, or occasionally English. Those that weren't conducting
tours were hover ghost-like around the rooms. Always watching you to see if
your going to touch anything!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
rooms are of walled with marble, and
with floors tiled. Pale winter sunlight filtered through smoky glass windows, providing
more light than the yellow incandescent lights would yield. The museum was kept
cold. Voices barely rose above a whisper. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
displays looked as if they haven't been changed in decades. Faded brown, gold
and red colors framed the numerous portraits, pictures, and memorabilia.
Browned paper under the displays were first in Russian, followed by Georgian,
and sometimes English.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">From the
first few chambers of the museum, followed the death mask room. A striking
contrast to the previous three, the room was the most memorable by far. On
entering the round room, you walk along the walls up to an elevated platform.
There, laying in the middle of the room, is a bronzed death mask of Stalin. The
room is dimly lit, no windows and only two doors. If the museum is quiet, this
room is dead silent. Thick rich red, almost purple fabric lines the walls and
ceiling, swallowing all sound. I was so quiet, you could hear your breakfast
digest and your breathing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In that
room I stood for two whole minutes, transfixed on the bronzed figure
slumbering. All the while, I was being watched by one of the specters. From the
other room, through the doorway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">At the
front of the exhibit, like in many museums, was a guestbook. Many of the
entries were written by upset and disgusted guests. Phrases like "This is
a lie!" and "War criminal" were scrawled in angry lettering. They
were angered by the museum's lack of truth. The museum ignored the atrocities,
and that the museum painted him as a hero. Though technically they are right, I
don't believe that is the purpose of this museum is to tell 'the truth'. Part Stalin's
élan was to capture peoples affections and admiration. To the patrons of the
museum, Gorians, and many other people, they still believe Stalin is a hero. They
cherish their beloved local hero, and are entitled to show him as a charitable
figure. The museum opinion is a bizarre, eerie opinion but exists nonetheless.
The rest us must acknowledge their opinion, and respect the museum as it is.
The point of the museum is for one to observe the man, his background and more
importantly, the influence he still carries over us all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAVWVXa7EgvD9ty0sd3GvV9YztH9cJYtS_1mEplOLGUGi6lhRZxtCls20kFAKpBc0QuSzKIYg3GfExjgkOW3iqEH29xiyIeV_Lo3qJRKlVSOqJPLFImZl8_c8gz5poMLoi8Y79O6kZik/s1600/2012-11-02+12.31.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAVWVXa7EgvD9ty0sd3GvV9YztH9cJYtS_1mEplOLGUGi6lhRZxtCls20kFAKpBc0QuSzKIYg3GfExjgkOW3iqEH29xiyIeV_Lo3qJRKlVSOqJPLFImZl8_c8gz5poMLoi8Y79O6kZik/s320/2012-11-02+12.31.04.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stalin as a young man</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxFwQ5NQQUNnUk3uLpieReEKmjQAFoQpbyJCRdxpxZmGDG8I-BqQk7VqeAGiupkQ9JsuZEnjRW_SeFaBFj0xWelSybpT5Sh_Ng00c8kVh0aH2b7sR4Bo0ZVy9TQIiDPlcQRvshO7Zh5M/s1600/2012-11-02+12.46.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxFwQ5NQQUNnUk3uLpieReEKmjQAFoQpbyJCRdxpxZmGDG8I-BqQk7VqeAGiupkQ9JsuZEnjRW_SeFaBFj0xWelSybpT5Sh_Ng00c8kVh0aH2b7sR4Bo0ZVy9TQIiDPlcQRvshO7Zh5M/s320/2012-11-02+12.46.32.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The death mask room. You can see the curator hovering in the open doorway</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDv9Dt9AuYQ2RQRhACaUNUuFvVCLgvUgbDOEFTE4jxBmolVQ4kmBrFjhwkTVl2reSAh8Hl4ykHczWtFwgm7wpQ1PyD65vRwyeAE93yusaJmf2D-8kalrAgXgGgcPNdr72Szb6hdxj7Xo/s1600/2012-11-02+12.46.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDv9Dt9AuYQ2RQRhACaUNUuFvVCLgvUgbDOEFTE4jxBmolVQ4kmBrFjhwkTVl2reSAh8Hl4ykHczWtFwgm7wpQ1PyD65vRwyeAE93yusaJmf2D-8kalrAgXgGgcPNdr72Szb6hdxj7Xo/s320/2012-11-02+12.46.42.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXU8b3ZGmtpxAy1DLgyayGp9mZ3pf3WsvRAur4r3x1WXthiw8aNGHJI_L_xxr-9qNM0IBFPDs2NSTa5otpTyM1iriRVdAhE_vRg-uy67mwJdA7cmK-YyViOeXjCUwp-vGPf40U2UKSQY/s1600/2012-11-02+13.00.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXU8b3ZGmtpxAy1DLgyayGp9mZ3pf3WsvRAur4r3x1WXthiw8aNGHJI_L_xxr-9qNM0IBFPDs2NSTa5otpTyM1iriRVdAhE_vRg-uy67mwJdA7cmK-YyViOeXjCUwp-vGPf40U2UKSQY/s320/2012-11-02+13.00.03.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was a fun picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRSDYwxRKsHZyc3JXONFkMJcS7Ez3D6bk0Lxf8loDkK3Uxq2cMSCHPiwjO0cpINae0TNjkAUgqJcteUkCqbPiM4gWlfkXEr17pjKxUDU6z9ooHveAVNuenbhtCN0xVo3BpTHSPyxRkvs/s1600/2012-11-02+13.02.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRSDYwxRKsHZyc3JXONFkMJcS7Ez3D6bk0Lxf8loDkK3Uxq2cMSCHPiwjO0cpINae0TNjkAUgqJcteUkCqbPiM4gWlfkXEr17pjKxUDU6z9ooHveAVNuenbhtCN0xVo3BpTHSPyxRkvs/s320/2012-11-02+13.02.19.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here is Adam, being inappropriate.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCugkuK75tNaLhBASDd1fmcvvSmBi4Lf_uT6nMZBXFWF2ROMGuQQZM1lr9Ujq2AglxDP5IzIN30i6xkuINhdReMcWFpADJ39oW7szniHtGgJaxdmKw_OMm1BHk2M24amFhiVSFAJfBJEA/s1600/2012-11-02+14.29.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCugkuK75tNaLhBASDd1fmcvvSmBi4Lf_uT6nMZBXFWF2ROMGuQQZM1lr9Ujq2AglxDP5IzIN30i6xkuINhdReMcWFpADJ39oW7szniHtGgJaxdmKw_OMm1BHk2M24amFhiVSFAJfBJEA/s320/2012-11-02+14.29.10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uplisikhe, a cave city nearby. There were plenty of great boulders to climb on.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQihs1hN6eVPuVNR7qpsAKrdIC3_ITEKweWZtaEJK_Eyy4RS9VyjgE1uw-HMwjMFX6_qg1YVVqlvmP3bM0JmOZ4rZQQIxAcd-iYyQw8y5n34C6MA9C-fQVKw13wVpHPkNEO1zIkmJowcU/s1600/2012-11-02+14.39.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQihs1hN6eVPuVNR7qpsAKrdIC3_ITEKweWZtaEJK_Eyy4RS9VyjgE1uw-HMwjMFX6_qg1YVVqlvmP3bM0JmOZ4rZQQIxAcd-iYyQw8y5n34C6MA9C-fQVKw13wVpHPkNEO1zIkmJowcU/s320/2012-11-02+14.39.43.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Surrounding countryside of Uplisikhe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEesxRKiP5YaRjEXi8yeSovbswwi4tsOeDSfBbJERmYSC59mxKCR887N6TLlfAVx2Vi7BRuLsUKItwUhyjC7mhgqc2HufSs86V6SjKS4AU_08-x6Bqzz017ugyDvcBuXTFw0tqCpSRtQg/s1600/2012-11-02+15.14.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEesxRKiP5YaRjEXi8yeSovbswwi4tsOeDSfBbJERmYSC59mxKCR887N6TLlfAVx2Vi7BRuLsUKItwUhyjC7mhgqc2HufSs86V6SjKS4AU_08-x6Bqzz017ugyDvcBuXTFw0tqCpSRtQg/s320/2012-11-02+15.14.04.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-17930379442932969612012-10-30T22:34:00.003-07:002012-10-30T22:52:43.869-07:00 Thursday, October 18th to Sunday October 21st: Kazbegi<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thursday, October 18th to Sunday October 21st<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The fifth week of school was over. It was during this week,
I watched the film, "Dinner With Andre." The movie is dialogue
entire, between two men in a restaurant. A deeply philosophical movie, one of
the things they talk about is going to places, to break their routine. I wont
go much further into the movie, I only speak of it because it gave me
motivation to go on an excursion to Mt. Kazbegi in the North Caucus mountains,
even though the other volunteers couldn't make it. Traveling alone, I would
have a different experience than traveling in a group.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having taken Friday off, and having no classes scheduled for
me on Thursday, I was free to take the train to Tbilisi, and from there to
Kazbegi. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The train ride was another joyful trip, before sleep took
over, I spoke with two men who shared my cab. The younger, more talkative one
bought some beer at the Kobuleti stop, and we drank to our health and to
Georgia and America, and to our families. The older one, a small man in a
leather jacket, was going to Tbilisi for surgery. He works in Istanbul. For
twenty five years, he has been working as a sailor. I hope the man's health
picks up, I enjoyed speaking with him. Soon after drinking and eating chips, I
fell asleep. Waking up in Tbilisi, I said my goodbyes to my cab-mates, and stepped
off the train. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the station, a bus was scheduled to leave to Kazbegi, a
short walk and a few inquiry's later brought me to the proper minibus, scheduled
to drive to Stephantsminda, the village closest to Mt Kazbegi. The bus was
piled to capacity, mostly European travelers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The road to Stephansminda is an ancient rout known as the
Georgian Millitary highway. The rout travels through a pass cut by glaciers.
The was built by Russian soldiers to connect Georgia to the Russian province of
Chechnya, before the highway was only a dirt track. This is the place where
Pompey of Rome traveled in conquest. He came, he stopped, and he turned back.
Scythia, the steppe north of the Mountains was believed to be the end of the
world and not worth the visit. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day I traveled the Georgian military highway, the hill
country's deciduous forest was ablaze with Autumn colors. Up at a higher
elevation, the forest advances no further up the steepening slopes, yielding to
subalpine grasses and sporadic birch and pine groves. The narrow river valley
we are traveling in widens into a broad flat plain, carved from glaciers. From
this valley, the road turned into a wide dirt track, designed for tanks and
machines of war, whose treads eat asphalt that tires glide over. Our bus
bounced past other cars, buses, and semi-trucks. I had read the Russian border
was closed, but the stream of traffic indicated otherwise. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Across the river adjacent to the road, a village lies on
slope, above a steep drop into the river
below. There was no road or bridge from where we were. The only rout I observed
into that village was by a cable-car. The car looked like it could fit only two
people, and hangs suspended over the river. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Past the isolated village, we drove through more towns
before making our final destination to Stephantsminda.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stepping off the bus, I was struck by the Fall aroma from
the beach trees. The thin, cold air seemed to amplify the decaying leaves.
Instantaneously, I liked this place more than Mestia in Svaneti. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having first acquired a guest house, I spend the day
exploring the town. I walked up to the pine forest above the town, and was able
to read a great deal of Cormac McCarthy's book <u>The Crossing. </u>Sitting in
the sun, overlooking the town with a view of the church and Mt. Kazbegi. This
first day, I didn't want to go on excursions, but to just enjoy the mountains
by simply being in them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Early the next morning, after eating a home cooked meal of
mashed potatoes with cheese, I walked to the town center and rented a bicycle.
South along the river, I rode towards Sno Valley. When I arrived at the village
of Sno, I stopped to view the town's sole tower, overlooking the city. I parked
my bike by an ancient wall, and looked for an entrance. While searching, an old
man came by in a cart drawn by a donkey. We spoke, but I couldn't understand
him at all, as if he has had a stroke. I held donkey by the reins, as he
fetched some water from some spring, for his burro. From there, I found the way
up into the tower. I climbed the narrow ladder up to the head. The interior was
cramped and dark. The top yielded view of the surrounding town and mountains.
Soon after, I was back on the road heading further up the valley.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Past several other villages, I rode on. The land was
populated by grazing cows, sheep and horses. The animals were accompanied by
either shepherds or their special breed of dog. The dogs were huge, and with
cropped ears, with a friendly disposition. In the villages, pigs hung about the
muddy streets, scattering when they saw me riding towards them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The dirt road to the final town of Juta ran up a mountain
side. The temperatures fluctuated in the extreme, thanks to the combination of
sun, shade and wind; rest and activity. Looking up, I spotted circling birds
overhead. In this windswept mountainside of no trees, herds, water, or shelter,
I felt completely isolated, almost like I was on a Martian planet. There was no
sign of the village, or of any people whatsoever. Quite a unique feeling. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I arrived at Juta, I came upon a source of water for
which I was thankful for, having run out on the road. By then, it was noon and
I was exhausted from riding/walking up to Juta. After moving past Juta, I left
my bike locked to a fencepost and continued on up the valley. Where the road
ends and only a dirt track is there, which is traversed by horse drawn carts or
by foot. Wind would gust through the valley, shared by cows and horses.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
squat, square structures came into view in the distance,
which when I got closer, I could see was a military outpost. A man waved me
over, for which I waved back and walked to. They invited me over to speak,
curious to see a lone foreigner in the mountains. I was curious why they were
there as well. I was told that past the mountain in the north, laid Chechnya
and to the south east was Ratcha, accessible after a 8 hour hike through a
pass. We had coffee inside their camp, which was occupied by three friendly Georgian
military men. I wanted to take more pictures, but I did not think it wise to
take pictures of their camp, however friendly my hosts were.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the hot cup of coffee, I gave my thanks and headed
back to Stephantsminda. The bike ride down the mountain was exhilarating. I
didn't realize the climb I had made. On the way down, I hardly had to do any
pedaling!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Within forty-five minutes, I had arrived back in
Stephantsminda. The sun was still high up in the sky, and I still had the
energy, so I decided to continue past the town, heading North on the highway. A
few kilometers up the road, lay the Georgian Russian border.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Soon after Stephansminda, the terrain becomes rugged, gone
is the flat and grass-covered glacial plain that Stephansminda rests on. Here cragged
peaks dip down steeply into a narrow and rocky riverbed. Shrubs and Pines cling
to the mountains' shanks as the road, built alongside a cliff face winds down
in elevation. Aside from one village adjacent to the riverbed, the land along
the highway is wilderness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was on this rout, that I came across a tunnel. two
hundred meters bored through the mountain side created a menacing, unlit gaping
mouth. Having stopped at the entrance, I continued down into the tunnel as blackness
overtook me. I continued on, picking up speed naturally from gravity until the
light was not even enough to distinguish shapes, where the road was and where
the stone walls were.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Riding a bike in darkness is an exhilarating feeling. You
feel the wind on your face, and can hear the wheels spinning on, yet you are
unable to have a sense of direction. As your sight dims to memory of the
terrain, you become disoriented, as though your bike stirs itself. It becomes
impossible to continue this way, only after dismounting does the spinning
wheels respond to your control. Through that thin cool air, you walk along side
the road, until your surroundings are lit once again from the end of the
tunnel. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Upon reaching the Georgian checkpoint, I knew it wasn't going
to get any further. Cars coming from Russia were stopped several lanes in. As I
entered the fenced compound guard dogs barked incessantly at my passing. A far
cry from the outpost I encountered earlier. Here, the guards were armed with
black metallic guns, slung over their shoulder. "Sad Midixar?" One of
them asked me, as I approached him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tyler: Do you speak English?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Border guard: A little. Passport?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tyler: I don't have it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Border Guard: Do you want to go to Russia?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tyler: No, I want to see the border with Chechnya.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A long pause, the other guard was curious and came over. He
replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Border Guard: I'm sorry you must go back. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Going back was a two hour bike ride up back to
Stephantsminda. By the time I reached the top, my legs were jelly. The bike was
returned as the sun was setting, having just slid behind the frosted peaks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although I traveled alone on this trip, I was never isolated from other travelers, and had a few beers with them after the daily excursions. I feel that branching out from the TLG group is better than just being with the same people. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpS482Yg-IJ3TD0zTLOD6bK0wibpo2c58ExZNiMLsAhxo6lJQGeZRdDXo9HW_MaKXhDkNxDaLqnEw_1ePdzaCoETmCD-o7Y0Vo_KccqJPETSaeLGIASyx4twsbF_NrZNFij5LK6H2EnrY/s1600/2012-10-17+12.56.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpS482Yg-IJ3TD0zTLOD6bK0wibpo2c58ExZNiMLsAhxo6lJQGeZRdDXo9HW_MaKXhDkNxDaLqnEw_1ePdzaCoETmCD-o7Y0Vo_KccqJPETSaeLGIASyx4twsbF_NrZNFij5LK6H2EnrY/s320/2012-10-17+12.56.11.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the GMH.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rV3JUlmYzTmqjQw3sWmWvNBrL1-MzuAJFpvzcRSsCAnr6SWhSryeXcy3_b5HfbFXz3ky8m9URn6FaqFLHjOx99FKVwQm_L02dslCL2n3SfWQbYcj12XItmdnIBu4TC9llQVNMzaVbQ0/s1600/2012-10-17+18.09.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rV3JUlmYzTmqjQw3sWmWvNBrL1-MzuAJFpvzcRSsCAnr6SWhSryeXcy3_b5HfbFXz3ky8m9URn6FaqFLHjOx99FKVwQm_L02dslCL2n3SfWQbYcj12XItmdnIBu4TC9llQVNMzaVbQ0/s320/2012-10-17+18.09.25.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheep dog puppy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9bQBJIVJwIoQN4Jin7kpun03GDOgerR-lP5pSDkSw5htWrXUUjhPQfbvVHDkNCpFLNu1ZLe5Z-1beJHz1FS_T1iN9LmYkCsRSK1978TMbXdQPvXcEo7-sn3XUKv0I8aYVkc4hWCOokY/s1600/2012-10-18+11.10.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9bQBJIVJwIoQN4Jin7kpun03GDOgerR-lP5pSDkSw5htWrXUUjhPQfbvVHDkNCpFLNu1ZLe5Z-1beJHz1FS_T1iN9LmYkCsRSK1978TMbXdQPvXcEo7-sn3XUKv0I8aYVkc4hWCOokY/s320/2012-10-18+11.10.47.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GMH going away from Stephantsminda</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-l4QGFPFKAf6XoBGprCJXww3HnldetWZ7Ib5v0haDBgUVOeNqZCyLU8C_qv1g3ayJNVGKdDSQcPzniBlrRaftIyLQtTYsmUT4n5buWvHHCSoMv03FjILSc32JPMzDGQ2pU6fI5rbq1IU/s1600/2012-10-18+11.21.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-l4QGFPFKAf6XoBGprCJXww3HnldetWZ7Ib5v0haDBgUVOeNqZCyLU8C_qv1g3ayJNVGKdDSQcPzniBlrRaftIyLQtTYsmUT4n5buWvHHCSoMv03FjILSc32JPMzDGQ2pU6fI5rbq1IU/s320/2012-10-18+11.21.22.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tower at Sno village.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTZiYP6YRe9xY6pDwnlZBSRZh8BxG7b2qrNGYZIKOyybkIb_Tqy0QrlSPdhC3AEyyCoMyhLq6tKlvdknCJY8afj-h94b1bp-SiwOFyF2muVUZkQTI7zucjRe4QPqSyb-s0bhPyrYJUv5I/s1600/2012-10-18+11.26.59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTZiYP6YRe9xY6pDwnlZBSRZh8BxG7b2qrNGYZIKOyybkIb_Tqy0QrlSPdhC3AEyyCoMyhLq6tKlvdknCJY8afj-h94b1bp-SiwOFyF2muVUZkQTI7zucjRe4QPqSyb-s0bhPyrYJUv5I/s320/2012-10-18+11.26.59.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9TQ0uRbN_q9-zmzJUibPuXn6OEOT3aiWXWbFdQm1GlpX1Ec8qQhyM7o0WUIQ_zq5BNsIa7L5zkuDaLoiFhshPn48JYrtna0iYkkHBW4EvJ5NfJhFsvLqGuStfC0zu1EoyRhEN2ndXvf0/s1600/2012-10-18+13.52.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9TQ0uRbN_q9-zmzJUibPuXn6OEOT3aiWXWbFdQm1GlpX1Ec8qQhyM7o0WUIQ_zq5BNsIa7L5zkuDaLoiFhshPn48JYrtna0iYkkHBW4EvJ5NfJhFsvLqGuStfC0zu1EoyRhEN2ndXvf0/s320/2012-10-18+13.52.13.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Upper Sno valley. You can see the military outpost to the left.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ez1KgQNP-as_12k3OycPrBPCdOi-LjPfK6qyp0TaB6GgzRpJt5jJdFOSxd3qMqmAWYCvgmbcLGB5HTozlww7rsQUdhRjZzILeuZc4qBGlc1o_X6TAMlK22esO2T-apxV1y1rkhfiZBA/s1600/2012-10-18+13.53.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="23" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ez1KgQNP-as_12k3OycPrBPCdOi-LjPfK6qyp0TaB6GgzRpJt5jJdFOSxd3qMqmAWYCvgmbcLGB5HTozlww7rsQUdhRjZzILeuZc4qBGlc1o_X6TAMlK22esO2T-apxV1y1rkhfiZBA/s320/2012-10-18+13.53.35.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Panorama </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEGum_C2BN-aGJGTo6_FLRgLv-vHHL08MSglLzE-nUcLt7ijd9GaPTrlZfqyQfj7z9xdk64MQ38WBpdL4gkA2Kp7iMwQ0OCPadi4VfYz2X4YLB86f17Nxfqp30khzar_sbawWkbxnmCs/s1600/2012-10-18+15.46.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEGum_C2BN-aGJGTo6_FLRgLv-vHHL08MSglLzE-nUcLt7ijd9GaPTrlZfqyQfj7z9xdk64MQ38WBpdL4gkA2Kp7iMwQ0OCPadi4VfYz2X4YLB86f17Nxfqp30khzar_sbawWkbxnmCs/s320/2012-10-18+15.46.17.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are what the villages look like up here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEJEzcyWacMR50Pg9-UbvjEN9Pe_sbb5ZlhSclQc4vwI8-ORe_jVtBEpjWivruD2bTesr67Hfxs2Rjfcsd6kF5epw91YygVkQwKr_4vQ4S3LjdbIDhAXjCcyjPb45hT_1ctcGDg5VbllU/s1600/2012-10-18+15.59.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEJEzcyWacMR50Pg9-UbvjEN9Pe_sbb5ZlhSclQc4vwI8-ORe_jVtBEpjWivruD2bTesr67Hfxs2Rjfcsd6kF5epw91YygVkQwKr_4vQ4S3LjdbIDhAXjCcyjPb45hT_1ctcGDg5VbllU/s320/2012-10-18+15.59.09.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I missed this when I rode by it the first time. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1o6xiSHDbGWHq5HyHrsgBrjV1AO-NAISGNoCFn5FnUqk7gzSV6BiO5zKkcUjAOhb5quzVgPlNFUmDVqk40IDKgJPwKLXT-cCYWtcKCl-ZWwKfWjwoeuF3k6qfhthk6yvKaw-4mfEpRwc/s1600/2012-10-18+16.21.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1o6xiSHDbGWHq5HyHrsgBrjV1AO-NAISGNoCFn5FnUqk7gzSV6BiO5zKkcUjAOhb5quzVgPlNFUmDVqk40IDKgJPwKLXT-cCYWtcKCl-ZWwKfWjwoeuF3k6qfhthk6yvKaw-4mfEpRwc/s320/2012-10-18+16.21.44.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road to Russia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdgVVfJRt5QA1iCbXYf5H1BXBJQ9al-7xdcckzS-tCojmTok5YYjWVWHCB5zfeK1sgs1V7_xq3LJGf3kPUG7sI-ZRBD5wUe-qhksaAv9JJJrCdBJvCM9G0FxUlQNA1Shoi-7N20TTE9k/s1600/2012-10-18+16.43.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdgVVfJRt5QA1iCbXYf5H1BXBJQ9al-7xdcckzS-tCojmTok5YYjWVWHCB5zfeK1sgs1V7_xq3LJGf3kPUG7sI-ZRBD5wUe-qhksaAv9JJJrCdBJvCM9G0FxUlQNA1Shoi-7N20TTE9k/s320/2012-10-18+16.43.28.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Georgian checkpoint</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizly35hl7rjhljEmE2tWq1fG12fn6fI2NXWYCozsFqz2yMQA3vbYGuoKKqr9zUPYwlP2JSHZBf22j1lgSG7N4Nmzh2e7n9YyvyoJg_sHAy0hSXsZ5pGEtS_7QOE6-TtRl_aEaYsfOUqxU/s1600/2012-10-18+17.43.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizly35hl7rjhljEmE2tWq1fG12fn6fI2NXWYCozsFqz2yMQA3vbYGuoKKqr9zUPYwlP2JSHZBf22j1lgSG7N4Nmzh2e7n9YyvyoJg_sHAy0hSXsZ5pGEtS_7QOE6-TtRl_aEaYsfOUqxU/s320/2012-10-18+17.43.55.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tunnel I rode through in pitch darkness.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZgM_LMxQ-WMpbgQN2H_AgOSjq4Yh8DSJZ3SIiAn_E7FxBnC4zJ92cVGDb1cw4PVSob6pzMKzbl7qOzyV40mP-JopRNWrV3asl0-HmD55dfh4PwgUvmgJUI4mXYKa0Gs5-1Iep55AX2xk/s1600/DSCF0962.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZgM_LMxQ-WMpbgQN2H_AgOSjq4Yh8DSJZ3SIiAn_E7FxBnC4zJ92cVGDb1cw4PVSob6pzMKzbl7qOzyV40mP-JopRNWrV3asl0-HmD55dfh4PwgUvmgJUI4mXYKa0Gs5-1Iep55AX2xk/s320/DSCF0962.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitty news: 'Knuti' is kitten in Georgian. They are now wondering the property . </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-41665933244988413962012-10-22T23:17:00.000-07:002012-10-31T06:16:51.142-07:00Monday October 8th to Sunday October 14th: Week 4 of school and Chakvistavi part two<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I first came to Gorgadzeebi, I wrote about the trip to
Mtiarla national park with some of my students. And that, although we stayed a
night, I wasn't able get to go on a longer hike. That we had stayed at the park
headquarters, having stayed only a short
while. I have been meaning to go back to the park for some time, until another
opportunity presents itself. One such opportunity has been sighted; My school
faculty have been meaning to take me to Chakvistavi (the village that is
nestled in the park) for the past few weeks and at last I am able to once again
visit the park.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went on a picnic with my school faculty to Chakvistavi. A
dozen teachers and I piled into a rented Marshutka and departed up into the
mountains. It was a fun spending time with my teachers on the road. We made a
few stops, sometimes to view the lake, sometimes to push the marshutka out of a
ditch (the road was recovering from a hard rains earlier in the week.) When we
reached Chakvistavi, we all went to the local restaurant, which we had rented
out to our large party of two dozen. From there, we had one of the best meals
I've had in Georgia. Lots of traditional Georgian dishes: including beef,
chicken, wine, and chacha. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The picnic was a supra, so a great quantity of wine was
consumed. I myself participated as much as I could. The Tamada (toastmaster)
was directly to my right. He could always see if I was drinking, so I tried to
keep up with him. Fortunately, he was less strict than other tamadas I've seen,
so I didn't have to drink at every toast. There were a lot, and although I
can't understand what is being said, I just listen to good prose and diction to
the people speaking. At intermittent periods of the picnic there would be
dancing. Urged by the staff, I did try the steps, but I have only a vague idea
of Georgian dancing. Even so, the staff loved it. Pridon, the school director
also tried dancing with me in a hustle like dance. It was fun, except I'm a
terrible follow. I'd like to stick with Georgian dancing, in the future.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day I wrote this entry, I woke up in the mountains,
after a day of feasting and drinking in Chakvistavi, the village at Mtiarla
park. I was staying at a guest house; a older, wooden home. Surprisingly, they
had more television channels than my house. The guest house had two children.
In the main room, a fire was burning in a huge fireplace. The room was snug and
warm as I sat by the fire, drinking coffee and helping the family's children
with their homework. I think those two children will be the only one's in their
village to be able to make the 'th' sound. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back to this morning, I decided to walk back home, first
before doing so, I went to see a waterfall in the mountains. A half an hour of
walking up a mountainside, I hit the falls. An impressive sight, mist was
everywhere, and it was very cold, being in the morning the sun hadn't quite hit
the falls, so it was darker. The trail continued, so I said (out loud) "Why
not" and headed up the mountain, deeper into the forest. This trail
continued on, up a steep hillside. The trail was switching left and right, up
further and further. As the elevation increased, the forest switched from mixed
trees to strictly beech. The top of the mountain was completely covered with
old-growth beech groves. The huge silvery trunks looked like columns,
supporting a canopy of green shimmering leaves, swishing and swaying from a
constant breeze flowing through the foliage. After encountering such wonder, I
had to continue on further. I began debating in my mind if I should not head
back, but instead walk the entire loop. I wasn't sure how far or long it would
take. So much of the decision was based on pathos, and pathos was winning over
logos.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before making full resolve, the debate continued-out loud
with puppet hands. I figure, I'm in the woods, I can make all the noise I like.
In support of my soliloquy, the noise will alert the bears, who now know that
I'm a crazy person who talks to themselves. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I ended up walking in an eight kilometer loop back to
Chakvistavi.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I reached the rangers' station at the park entrance. A long
rest, a drink of cool water, a long read from The Iliad and a big plate of
potatoes later. While eating and reading, I met a Georgian couple. The husband
incidentally was an architect, and had designed the ranger's station at
Chakvistavi, along with several other parks. The buildings are of a stone and
wood bottom, like an Edwardian structure, but instead of plaster, are stone.
The top was wood paneling. I do like the structures. They blend in well with
the old houses and forest, while still looking modern. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Getting back on track, They agreed to give me a ride in
their car to the entrance of my village. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Their car was so spotless and new. I'm used to sitting on
stained upholstery, on dusty concrete, leaning up against trees, this is not a
clean country. It was strange to be sitting in a new car, I didn't want to
corrupt this sporadic beacon of sterility.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had agreed to accept any consequences that would befall on
me after making the spontaneous decision to go on a 8 km hike alone in the
woods. This time, the consequences were in my favor.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyNIENEcm39JRSIJE9ZEb6FNMtKi_U2B_ZkZLFNzrfCka2lq5LbBpdHSVkWNQdvY4sgqm03QTXS9Dwh9Mv3HZCBgMYhun54aRg8AzxXkLjxEOSStrSCDHLVgX8ySuGx1wYF2YXqxaXtnA/s1600/2012-10-12+17.45.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyNIENEcm39JRSIJE9ZEb6FNMtKi_U2B_ZkZLFNzrfCka2lq5LbBpdHSVkWNQdvY4sgqm03QTXS9Dwh9Mv3HZCBgMYhun54aRg8AzxXkLjxEOSStrSCDHLVgX8ySuGx1wYF2YXqxaXtnA/s320/2012-10-12+17.45.22.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feast at Chakvistavi. Lots of good food sitting on that table.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9bejKOHCzIt7Ctk56662vAFrHIWgrnePvXcA0yocsZRP3svsYvm92Z3rn0VPjjXO12tlXCyJXHKC5wWhJkkgwDKeOgETgb9-F5DrR4Zze7RINfw0NjMvBBFswBBo8A21wuH7xP3Qh3vk/s1600/2012-10-13+10.37.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9bejKOHCzIt7Ctk56662vAFrHIWgrnePvXcA0yocsZRP3svsYvm92Z3rn0VPjjXO12tlXCyJXHKC5wWhJkkgwDKeOgETgb9-F5DrR4Zze7RINfw0NjMvBBFswBBo8A21wuH7xP3Qh3vk/s320/2012-10-13+10.37.36.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chantchkari!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFlgx_aY6w7-vfypaUt01xxjKpCPcamnY6mMq0ssUHFgrAd_Jj3boYkHr-FkmblQXjMWLRR8qdkew1oMQ5pyvPx1oVKm4DOWnhkoo3KzPJeg-hncV_YMh7QXXrseBtnauTFdB-Kl-Gac/s1600/2012-10-13+10.50.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFlgx_aY6w7-vfypaUt01xxjKpCPcamnY6mMq0ssUHFgrAd_Jj3boYkHr-FkmblQXjMWLRR8qdkew1oMQ5pyvPx1oVKm4DOWnhkoo3KzPJeg-hncV_YMh7QXXrseBtnauTFdB-Kl-Gac/s320/2012-10-13+10.50.49.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trail was roped off with dozens of these webs. You can see the spider in the middle. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHV15FtKwrLfp6p8ZnddMlMf0vAtUGH8VpWps-BzIGECV-u-c9_LLvqImspWn4uInBT_V4QHVEQCVmdXw1GXwW_SXB8pMrTIc8_usBOjgDDfWbj4gLnj1Mdy8nkiYvc5FZMmM1xsYwdUs/s1600/2012-10-13+11.21.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHV15FtKwrLfp6p8ZnddMlMf0vAtUGH8VpWps-BzIGECV-u-c9_LLvqImspWn4uInBT_V4QHVEQCVmdXw1GXwW_SXB8pMrTIc8_usBOjgDDfWbj4gLnj1Mdy8nkiYvc5FZMmM1xsYwdUs/s320/2012-10-13+11.21.42.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big beach tree. The canopy provided shade and a nice rustling sound.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnToxyvuRyc1MC8Bux9IJDF_H3atjR-3s2tFPMfP5UP7OhSOVfxNcRTyw-01JWczZ8KUIz6qiPZrqmPx8Po1iMiV-sMwbT-eFG9wJC4OZ3rhyphenhyphenPDIEf2dC3P5hO-fi2Vei8q1WIr1GVVRw/s1600/2012-10-13+11.22.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnToxyvuRyc1MC8Bux9IJDF_H3atjR-3s2tFPMfP5UP7OhSOVfxNcRTyw-01JWczZ8KUIz6qiPZrqmPx8Po1iMiV-sMwbT-eFG9wJC4OZ3rhyphenhyphenPDIEf2dC3P5hO-fi2Vei8q1WIr1GVVRw/s320/2012-10-13+11.22.05.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big Beach tree.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_VraX5-2bHAXy0WVZJ2oreDdB3DQlmoJaOQhYsWR_5JjWj1zdTt9ZrTCEo24CSDLqNknQVyHbLMl8i1H6yu9qhtLfKFhxzVXlkBEpfcv0PwhfsyfDC9722fb34RU-IvKcSAU-o1N1o0Q/s1600/2012-10-13+11.29.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_VraX5-2bHAXy0WVZJ2oreDdB3DQlmoJaOQhYsWR_5JjWj1zdTt9ZrTCEo24CSDLqNknQVyHbLMl8i1H6yu9qhtLfKFhxzVXlkBEpfcv0PwhfsyfDC9722fb34RU-IvKcSAU-o1N1o0Q/s320/2012-10-13+11.29.04.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fungus among us.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic8OaxBFXELl52Jj3kVDmhTMKlya2Ihv4TK2H9HLezxyMb2QMqa0xhboW44vegrE7G-U1yt90RRszlERGV1Txm64kTu1si-CEH1JUwUxCS86sGIFo56pI75T-nDzt-9q1RyfAhw7eZ1r8/s1600/2012-10-13+11.42.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic8OaxBFXELl52Jj3kVDmhTMKlya2Ihv4TK2H9HLezxyMb2QMqa0xhboW44vegrE7G-U1yt90RRszlERGV1Txm64kTu1si-CEH1JUwUxCS86sGIFo56pI75T-nDzt-9q1RyfAhw7eZ1r8/s320/2012-10-13+11.42.03.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beech forest.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJPotPMUAwTsjYGL63IKZ-15lZh4C4Y7j6JcmgYK4oKfYQPI2-IQ4LJS_nA8wllTVdRtykmNp8zpfVh34Vb4dQIWLAmvsWlzLimMy3WEjrej-D6bJevOd-S_ja_xYYfRuRklckTjixiZ0/s1600/2012-10-13+12.50.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJPotPMUAwTsjYGL63IKZ-15lZh4C4Y7j6JcmgYK4oKfYQPI2-IQ4LJS_nA8wllTVdRtykmNp8zpfVh34Vb4dQIWLAmvsWlzLimMy3WEjrej-D6bJevOd-S_ja_xYYfRuRklckTjixiZ0/s320/2012-10-13+12.50.03.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South Caucus mountains. Distinctively more green than the North</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhizj-pLAtGacvpjxWSnQavWHFuWlJrBqAMZmZS-Gl-oMQ4oao017i60IWVsRwj_8-KH6kb2Mw9x3XapJ1fMhlsD7oxvNpUzZNTQOmBhp51r40N8_pOjMhAlnaFAwCfWczvYhr-AWg9X2g/s1600/2012-10-12+14.20.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhizj-pLAtGacvpjxWSnQavWHFuWlJrBqAMZmZS-Gl-oMQ4oao017i60IWVsRwj_8-KH6kb2Mw9x3XapJ1fMhlsD7oxvNpUzZNTQOmBhp51r40N8_pOjMhAlnaFAwCfWczvYhr-AWg9X2g/s320/2012-10-12+14.20.12.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My school staff in the marshutka.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigw5uESPns9HMRRAuM3MK0GIdQKRmajy1jceCBTRI7QAw9HdLE13ozpty5mlCh4DuSMQuUHMWA2OWfcbIxlgYYLgbZw6zJRVjcPpEudCuUKFpcjcP8YXf4C7c6YltvYXUA4EGgodIrEDU/s1600/2012-10-12+14.20.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigw5uESPns9HMRRAuM3MK0GIdQKRmajy1jceCBTRI7QAw9HdLE13ozpty5mlCh4DuSMQuUHMWA2OWfcbIxlgYYLgbZw6zJRVjcPpEudCuUKFpcjcP8YXf4C7c6YltvYXUA4EGgodIrEDU/s320/2012-10-12+14.20.45.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our math teacher and myself.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlN3EJW7mFTOLKvTn_E4S5mBBNrv7Deq-m7peGFle7QPmbu2H9sV8d5vcxApZbBzQd4F7sPuwR78FsvcMHSUGYdureLr4QmDGZt-7Ljlsexsk1G7yayw0xyqHAyFnzPjSj6Xc7KXnc240/s1600/2012-10-12+14.51.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlN3EJW7mFTOLKvTn_E4S5mBBNrv7Deq-m7peGFle7QPmbu2H9sV8d5vcxApZbBzQd4F7sPuwR78FsvcMHSUGYdureLr4QmDGZt-7Ljlsexsk1G7yayw0xyqHAyFnzPjSj6Xc7KXnc240/s320/2012-10-12+14.51.25.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We could never get a proper pose, no one could pay enough attention to the camera.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-30660876821540510272012-10-10T23:13:00.001-07:002012-10-10T23:13:36.487-07:00Friday, September 28th to Friday, October 5th.<div class="MsoNormal">
Monday elections: In my school grounds was held the Georgian
parliamentary elections. To stay neutral, I am claiming ignorance of political
parties, politicians and viewpoints. Many volunteers were worried about
violence on election day, however Batumi was as tranquil as it has been. Voters
were seen at their appropriate stations in an ordered fashion, although there
still was no lines be seen. My marshutka to Gorgadzeebi wasn't running this
day, so I had to get a ride to the next village and walk the rest of the way.
When I arrived in my village, I stopped by my school to see the democratic
process take place. Many of the residents were loitering outside the school.
Inside was a ordered process, helped along by volunteers, clad in green vests.
Among them was my host father Romani. It was an exciting day, however peaceful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My first planned lesson took place this week. The lesson, run by myself, involves reading,
spelling and pronunciation. The children would receive their own flashcard with
an image of an object. The object is something that they should already know in
English, but may not be able to say or spell correctly. One by one, they would
come up to the chalk board, and find their object's name on the board. They
would then point to the word, say, and spell it out loud. A simple procedure,
and it ended a bit early, but was still effective. The children were able to
help each other out, and they liked being called up to point out a word. The lesson gave the students confidence in their reading. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Apart from giving encouragement and confidence in the
students, I'd like to make more creative lectures. The current lessons involve
reading dialogue, writing vocabulary, or
drilling grammar. There is nothing wrong with these methods, and should
make up the majority of the class; however, if used too much, students get
bored, and some become discouraged, due to their slow progress. They
often are corrected while reading or writing, and never learn the
reason of their mistake. Introducing a few new methods would invigorate the dull lessons, bringing back interest to the classroom. For instance, the
students would be taught days of the week, where they write it down or speak it
out. Instead of that, putting the list to a melody, and having the children
sing it could be more effective. The remainder of my classroom time will be
planning more interactive, creative, and fun lessons. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Outside the classroom, I am available for homework help,
although no one has come to me for help yet. I have been teaching some more
dances, and have downloaded some music for the children to listen to. Next week,
I'll teach some more waltz, this time with music. The lessons are impromptu,
but the children learn from it anyways. I also have a nice time walking home
with some of my students, where I practice my Georgian, and they their English.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Earlier in the week, I read other volunteers' blogs and
lesson plans, and extracurricular activities. Each one stated how involved
their students are, and how much progress was being made. After hearing a
number triumphs in teaching, I became discouraged with my self, since I have not been as involved and have't been able to make as bit an impact. Partly, it is due to their lack of English,
and partly due to the ingrained systems of teaching of my village, and partly
due to the study habits of most of my students (non-existent). I feared I was
not making progress due to my own inhibitions, that that I don't know what I am
doing, that I don't know how to teach. On looking deeper into the blog posts, I
realized these success stories were told by volunteers with previous teaching
experience and those who have been in Georgia longer than I. Even more so, the
regions they taught in were in bigger cities, or regions that have seen
previous volunteers, who have paved the way for more advanced lessons and
extracurricular activities. Here in Gorgadzeebi, I feel that I am pioneering
everything I do here. Progress, as a result is slower than I think it should
be, and complicated lesson plans are reserved as lofty ambitions. I can only
pave the way for my successors.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On further reflection, one small contribution I have begun
to make has been an increased emphasis in having children say and spell a word
correctly. Oftentimes, when a student is corrected in their spelling or speech,
the teachers do not have them repeat the word, but instead move on to their
next blunder. The student doesn't learn why they make a mistake, only that they
made one. They are doomed to repeat the same errors. I see the folly in
progressing for progress's sake, and have been asking the students to repeat or
spell the word correctly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And now for some photos.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjccuwOK3koDN-rAIXRNQTlSrtOaBcdnYDhXEffP6pb3xHssmfOstag3Wy8aXZxhZVN4AHDRgxgctUkhHDoY7i1f3hLACUKu7jQMdPZ9iwdccqF-WmYgI1WdnNBcQwSmpQjJlCd2Yeziaw/s1600/DSCF0560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjccuwOK3koDN-rAIXRNQTlSrtOaBcdnYDhXEffP6pb3xHssmfOstag3Wy8aXZxhZVN4AHDRgxgctUkhHDoY7i1f3hLACUKu7jQMdPZ9iwdccqF-WmYgI1WdnNBcQwSmpQjJlCd2Yeziaw/s320/DSCF0560.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aya Sophia fresco roof in Trebzon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLScFXkTm72AjN_fSv_VaMg8Y-DP0wnA8_0hxcq4oBw2BVfbpGfB7Q5GcMDXd_nAEdwdEOOztA9ElO0_kPIuOyJIY2z40JfHrK3jpnpxrZ72Uwxen_8S_nYY_Oq4RnY3l9cgHUZgQCBJE/s1600/DSCF0562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLScFXkTm72AjN_fSv_VaMg8Y-DP0wnA8_0hxcq4oBw2BVfbpGfB7Q5GcMDXd_nAEdwdEOOztA9ElO0_kPIuOyJIY2z40JfHrK3jpnpxrZ72Uwxen_8S_nYY_Oq4RnY3l9cgHUZgQCBJE/s320/DSCF0562.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the Aya Sophia museum/church in Turkey, a group of students wanted to take a picture with me. This happened more than once in Turkey.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpMGnCqw1eK1nSxEvpBj0JK5nzCIl5o_jscbfGysVQsF0zkltndIrwPOAfBr3xXHylwUAipylJJxWqN_Xf-IuPBuqGGyTW32l5uA7jnlRmuKkpUNGcFDM6UvWWn1cKG9fVyClVOy9iC5s/s1600/DSCF0567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpMGnCqw1eK1nSxEvpBj0JK5nzCIl5o_jscbfGysVQsF0zkltndIrwPOAfBr3xXHylwUAipylJJxWqN_Xf-IuPBuqGGyTW32l5uA7jnlRmuKkpUNGcFDM6UvWWn1cKG9fVyClVOy9iC5s/s320/DSCF0567.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of Trebzon from make-out point.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uMlJosPO3z97YxF4AKXA4yFFbZJ1KdXbcgRMX2XK9YOMGKhBGA1ES32wx5J94QyAulTgFneWmFveIM_7PHU6CMA8PrWNRSVElHw2IfbKl2slX5P4KpqPO49IUy3pVPIhm-oV8F_YPQE/s1600/DSCF0573.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uMlJosPO3z97YxF4AKXA4yFFbZJ1KdXbcgRMX2XK9YOMGKhBGA1ES32wx5J94QyAulTgFneWmFveIM_7PHU6CMA8PrWNRSVElHw2IfbKl2slX5P4KpqPO49IUy3pVPIhm-oV8F_YPQE/s320/DSCF0573.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sumela monestary, an hours drive in the mountains from Trebzon, Turkey</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj82WhwcGroh3DK1yl7FIS-Tp_7xJGBi6LplerDL6AZnTXYLyWe-BR8oOn3Ha6zrDOh6knPrl_3pGWdK5DCbYpY_-ZcWkAS78EaE5CqGQoKK0MsZ9Or-0C8CjEORmnSjv0LYxJyw6kEPSc/s1600/DSCF0595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj82WhwcGroh3DK1yl7FIS-Tp_7xJGBi6LplerDL6AZnTXYLyWe-BR8oOn3Ha6zrDOh6knPrl_3pGWdK5DCbYpY_-ZcWkAS78EaE5CqGQoKK0MsZ9Or-0C8CjEORmnSjv0LYxJyw6kEPSc/s320/DSCF0595.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was a lot of really nice, though faded and vandalized Byzantine art at Sumela</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwCHOlYSGXI7yf8JQmfSWoq7bRnfo91THhnULh2ILCLcWKORI7Ku0QFc4JRikROoocoosckdzskrvZ2FRsGPuccZNDOJHaX5COj0pgVDfb_OyNM3n5sJlBKuiP7VDBG6LDDxa-vRECKmM/s1600/DSCF0602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwCHOlYSGXI7yf8JQmfSWoq7bRnfo91THhnULh2ILCLcWKORI7Ku0QFc4JRikROoocoosckdzskrvZ2FRsGPuccZNDOJHaX5COj0pgVDfb_OyNM3n5sJlBKuiP7VDBG6LDDxa-vRECKmM/s320/DSCF0602.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So much vandalism! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlIY7haqRWVN4-64E4H_1vPXMrDDu24qhoSMVGEu61MncIeD3-GXYwlUEDp2YxVxGgpDFUjP6pRWh0TyNFJqm79sr8cBBXcL0VgVl0jUHqxWUiqd0DINFI-ZJ_XMc5VwKhOd-SotqaHo/s1600/DSCF0614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlIY7haqRWVN4-64E4H_1vPXMrDDu24qhoSMVGEu61MncIeD3-GXYwlUEDp2YxVxGgpDFUjP6pRWh0TyNFJqm79sr8cBBXcL0VgVl0jUHqxWUiqd0DINFI-ZJ_XMc5VwKhOd-SotqaHo/s320/DSCF0614.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sumela Monestary</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkSonTdsXusKQOYXhyphenhyphenmc45y44_MyC0EJDSGm8ihFSObBofzcUXHpkXGwv4b5WCa3TbAV_T7WoLipFGkcBixXdLuVpieigBc-ZRX7W8YtQn1kIHwcZ45DdvMphK1dHNBzpK8GLEtFydepE/s1600/DSCF0622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkSonTdsXusKQOYXhyphenhyphenmc45y44_MyC0EJDSGm8ihFSObBofzcUXHpkXGwv4b5WCa3TbAV_T7WoLipFGkcBixXdLuVpieigBc-ZRX7W8YtQn1kIHwcZ45DdvMphK1dHNBzpK8GLEtFydepE/s320/DSCF0622.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cats at my house are growing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnsi7HjPoXYP0iOisJHsNSMqmNwuQrbJlOudZyu7UEAAgS5dtC8Awr2jVZ9MSnzWHQsUW-6j6Z0SrebUO6wJWCPsHelOJbkrvI61erMWKnbpnlddSoVlg95xeg0X9sAfaxKSGQO3ey0r0/s1600/DSCF0624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnsi7HjPoXYP0iOisJHsNSMqmNwuQrbJlOudZyu7UEAAgS5dtC8Awr2jVZ9MSnzWHQsUW-6j6Z0SrebUO6wJWCPsHelOJbkrvI61erMWKnbpnlddSoVlg95xeg0X9sAfaxKSGQO3ey0r0/s320/DSCF0624.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some are more shy than others</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcLvy4AmwpKBAZWukqsAKc6TFgjusQDCJ-TIJYXrb2Rdt-jlwJTkV3MTd7uwXPsoYyq2XOKLcJgdEJ8wFpUoe-AiaxQnpTrbVKAtDOp22kWUWwDcVPy-ECevfL0h9tLLDPWIPJMfAEsiw/s1600/DSCF0626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcLvy4AmwpKBAZWukqsAKc6TFgjusQDCJ-TIJYXrb2Rdt-jlwJTkV3MTd7uwXPsoYyq2XOKLcJgdEJ8wFpUoe-AiaxQnpTrbVKAtDOp22kWUWwDcVPy-ECevfL0h9tLLDPWIPJMfAEsiw/s320/DSCF0626.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jRK9EnsD-rwI7dxJaJdx5p9BHEWBIdBg600B1RC0HQWUMGm_wCotAs9VaE9QIjBrGpQj3yu7PXkh7N_eKtiHw2yQShbWvPzyTKGwh8MzmI4ITV9HAl5MQOQ4knVs7r1_YeXA2fyWLVA/s1600/DSCF0641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jRK9EnsD-rwI7dxJaJdx5p9BHEWBIdBg600B1RC0HQWUMGm_wCotAs9VaE9QIjBrGpQj3yu7PXkh7N_eKtiHw2yQShbWvPzyTKGwh8MzmI4ITV9HAl5MQOQ4knVs7r1_YeXA2fyWLVA/s320/DSCF0641.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did you know that Batumi has a dolphen tank?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm2g5OsVZqNWh6xUoKe3WZE577HLE4-M-gqjojlbmOPmGkYPRmu3HcDIKySKwEXFFvCHJ5lAHO9Iucb4ON1OaxLDHoZivwBN2VUiTQPXvTkeZzcu0F8hZ2_CfNzuB4iSARK81Iu1Mz1AQ/s1600/DSCF0655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm2g5OsVZqNWh6xUoKe3WZE577HLE4-M-gqjojlbmOPmGkYPRmu3HcDIKySKwEXFFvCHJ5lAHO9Iucb4ON1OaxLDHoZivwBN2VUiTQPXvTkeZzcu0F8hZ2_CfNzuB4iSARK81Iu1Mz1AQ/s320/DSCF0655.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quite a good show for 12 lari.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwjuXuu4Lfo6kYoWUncNJ2pJMWAT9Q67M90xcafK3ZCaxpEpX-Uh7xSKG7V6FDd2vPE7AP3wJg1OtdBvpxX1KfT_XFk3vtTfGePk3RU_1UEZAUWG4TWfPyQO6jSzL_FtaTwLEYvnYhdKw/s1600/DSCF0660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwjuXuu4Lfo6kYoWUncNJ2pJMWAT9Q67M90xcafK3ZCaxpEpX-Uh7xSKG7V6FDd2vPE7AP3wJg1OtdBvpxX1KfT_XFk3vtTfGePk3RU_1UEZAUWG4TWfPyQO6jSzL_FtaTwLEYvnYhdKw/s320/DSCF0660.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sister Shorena loved it. I'm so happy I got to see the show with her.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-53709395942851184842012-09-28T03:53:00.002-07:002012-10-09T05:42:36.638-07:00September 17th to September 28th: first and second week of school<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
My first week of teaching has been stunning, teaching at
this school is fantastic, and I enjoy coming in to work, these two weeks has past
by so quickly, I fear the second half of my stay in Georgia will zoom by before
I realize that it is over. My work schedule is sparse, I teach one or two, and
sometimes three classes a day. I have a lot of free-time in the village, so I
usually come to school early, around ten and leave much later usually at two or
three. While I'm at school, I attend my designated lessons, and sometimes I go
to extra lessons! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Students are very happy to see me. I am accosted frequently
between and during my lessons. I have conversations of varying complexity to
almost student. Some are more shy, and others will jump right out in front of
me with a hearty "Hello! How are you!" or simply speak and try to
explain Georgian to me. I often try to sneak English words into their
vocabulary, often saying "I will see you later" "I am
glad/well/happy." instead of a simple "Good" or "Goodbye."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Inside the classroom, I try not to be too much of a
distraction, regardless if the students would be distracted with out my
presence! Most of my duties inside the classroom consist of helping with
pronunciation or spelling. Both of my co-teachers are adequate in explaining
material, but sometimes will have difficulty in idiomatic expressions and with
pronunciation themselves. Apart from an occasional comment, I try not to
distract too much attention from my co-teachers. They are the main teacher, and
I am their auxiliary. Because they will be their when I leave, I want the
students to have complete confidence in them. Outside the classroom however, I
try to get the students more involved in their English. I challenge their
lexicon and conversational skills. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Walking home is an enjoyment in itself, I often am
accompanied by a party of children and teenagers. We get to speak to each other
much more than at school. Conversations in English are so abundant during these
walks I'm starting to believe that I am doing more help outside of the
classroom than when I am actually working.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
School is in remarkable condition, being renovated a few
years ago by an American NGO. My school is made up of thirteen classrooms,
covering two floors, which are connected by two staircases often heavy with
traffic of students uniformed in black and white. Portraits of famous Georgians,
poets, writers, politicians and artists are hung along the staircase walls,
giving their name and birth/death date in Georgian script underneath their
black and white image. The floors of the classrooms are made of unpainted wooden
planks, which make a earthy sound when walked on, and give the rooms a
pleasant, fresh-cut timber smell. The walls of the classrooms are covered in
smooth plaster, painted a pleasant light yellow. In the second-floor common
area, hung from the walls, before and after photographs of the school are
displayed, showing the crumbling facility of only a few years back. The school
has new windows, often open, letting in sunlight and a cool breeze; It being early
fall, my village is still frequently hot during the day. In each classroom are
radiators, newly installed. The students, staff and faculty are very proud of
their renovated school, and have been taking good care of it. Of all the
students I've spoke with, all have a profound respect for their school, and are
keen on showing me their facility often asking me "Do you like our
school?" Already I hold this school as dear as I do the schools of my
childhood. The memories and experiences inside these walls will be cherished.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
On the second floor, the teacher's lounge is often loud, but
always the mood of the room is of jubilance. A group of teachers may be
complaining loudly of their students, or laughing about how the new English
teacher speaks Georgian. The school director may be giving a speech, oftentimes
hotly interrupted by another one of the staff. The room's conversations,
speeches and arguments often overlap with each other, it is not uncommon to be
speaking several conversations at once!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A small room, away from the din of the teachers lounge is
the coffee room. On waist-high cabinet, A propane gas burner, a jar of coffee
and a canister of sugar make the coffee station. Second hand tables, desks and
chairs make up its furniture. My co-teacher, our Russian/music teacher take
breaks before and after our lessons here at least once a day. The room is more
peaceful than the teacher's lounge, and we are able to communicate and speak
about things (and gossip about the other teachers)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This week, I attended my other co-teacher, Mariami's class.
Most of the classes I sat in they were about older students, and were
enthusiastic about speaking to me. Classroom was still chaotic, but more English
was spoken. The students are very inquisitive on who I am, and about America. I
try to answer all of their appropriate questions, and ignore the inappropriate,
questions such as: "Do you like Georgian Girls?" or "Do you like
Georgian wine?" are ignored. My future plans at Gorgadzeebi involve me
attending these upper classes, although TLG doesn't allow volunteers to teach
grades 6th thru 12th. The past volunteers must have had disciplinary issues
with the older students, causing complaints. As a result, TLG forbade their
volunteers from having mandatory lessons with the older students. I however,
see no harm in attending, provided my presence in their lectures are productive.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I spent time speaking with the math teacher, about math and
such. She seems enthusiastic about having me be more involved in math classes.
I hope to become more involved in teaching math. If not, I can always start an
English club. Many of the students would benefit tremendously if they had a
quiet place to do their translations and grammar exercises. I hope to set up a
time and place for such a club, my co-teachers think this may be a good idea.
Next week, I'll ask my school director if we can make the arrangements for an
English studying center.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The highlight of the two weeks was when I taught the
children cha cha cha. Ballroom dancing has been my hobby for the last three
years. On Monday, At the request of some of my students, who were interested in
dancing, I showed the basic steps of cha-cha-cha in one of the classrooms after
school. The children are hilarious to watch, but they learned the steps so
quickly! This first lesson was such a success, I must try and make more
lessons, or even start a dance club. When I teach, I teach in English,
introducing new vocabulary by pointing to the body. Similar to the song
"Head, shoulders, knees and toes" will say "Step forward"
or "Straighten you leg" and do the action. I would like to get more
students involved. Dancing lessons were a trade of dance ideas as well as a lesson
of English. Studying has its place, but these lessons could motivate students,
making them want to learn and study English.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
September 18th: Wine making.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, I participated in making homemade wine! Grape vines
surround my house. Vines are present above the garden, along the stairs up to
the second floor, and along hill, flanking the yard in the back of the house.
The harvesting began earlier this week, with gathering the grapes. Today, the
vines were stripped bare, their leaves given to the neighborhood cattle. The
grapes were all gathered in wooden boxes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the afternoon, I came home from teaching my second day of
school, to find my sisters sorting. In our driveway, there they were, sorting
the good grapes from the leaves, spiders, and other un-savorables. Quickly, I
donned some work clothes and went out to help sort. An hour later, I found
myself in galoshes, ankle deep in assorted grape, separating the grape juice
from its flesh and skin. Together, Romani and I poured the grape mixture
(seeds, skin and flesh included) into a 50 galleon plastic tank. I asked my
father (ramdeni tvit?) Which means "For how many months?" where he
responded by holding up all his ten fingers, replying "Ati dghes" The
grape mixture shall ferment for only ten days! From visiting wineries in
California, I thought making wine would be a more complicated process, however
I can't assume the wine will taste like a Merlot, I am excited to taste
something I had a part in making.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqznjNT8xcAkzNfl5lZEiPTI9T-yFswy8RQft1h9qoq_lYWvn7_OSL2uq_94jPIwYKduBLtMzb2ehA0gTRhwJnTRLpPyTh2I-pqX5d5ss1A4Tu5RRslSYVQCcfmPySoe8pQYvCOSiM7sU/s1600/DSCF0468.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqznjNT8xcAkzNfl5lZEiPTI9T-yFswy8RQft1h9qoq_lYWvn7_OSL2uq_94jPIwYKduBLtMzb2ehA0gTRhwJnTRLpPyTh2I-pqX5d5ss1A4Tu5RRslSYVQCcfmPySoe8pQYvCOSiM7sU/s320/DSCF0468.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once the grapes are properly smashed, they are placed in this blue barrel. The mixture ferments and is stirred twice a day, to release the CO2 gasses from the wine. As it ferments, the sugars are consumed, the alcohol is a byproduct of the reaction.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNvDRSNlQpGiMdA26YAXS7c-JnkQCFnlRhIpI8nLZvZvMYcD3XlTSRpyKTs3fM1w-e3dILKEnHqruo71G2V6bzYyV7o9NWmbEQoYZXBSjZ0T9ZuLWlqG2cH9hpvwUHN8ShNTNrkVNbsA/s1600/DSCF0470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNvDRSNlQpGiMdA26YAXS7c-JnkQCFnlRhIpI8nLZvZvMYcD3XlTSRpyKTs3fM1w-e3dILKEnHqruo71G2V6bzYyV7o9NWmbEQoYZXBSjZ0T9ZuLWlqG2cH9hpvwUHN8ShNTNrkVNbsA/s320/DSCF0470.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is my driveway. Past the gates, you can see the bare vines after the harvest.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaNNcYCL6JJRU0zSurrEOAA6TZp_Ph3aQo-d6BIXsXd1jYpWl-wIeobzGsW4ydnXC1-4LB2A4ibLY9Yd8XYnMI5z5bHtwW5eLWvZTa1SyhYuq02UZwhbYhMKMyckb7BryL8ZI-fMKcYQ4/s1600/DSCF0534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaNNcYCL6JJRU0zSurrEOAA6TZp_Ph3aQo-d6BIXsXd1jYpWl-wIeobzGsW4ydnXC1-4LB2A4ibLY9Yd8XYnMI5z5bHtwW5eLWvZTa1SyhYuq02UZwhbYhMKMyckb7BryL8ZI-fMKcYQ4/s320/DSCF0534.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a Saturday, my sisters and I were going to go to a dolphen show in Batumi. Unfortunatly, the weather became so bad and we called it a day. To the right is my sister Khatuna, to my left is my friend Nino.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimk_VII69LNt4KwBMSC9wsUnkR0yE0wxJidHy3j16OhnPnpl8v9fjNgg0pEJRaAq-_J8DoMdPdMsE5mLGfEyxB3_QvOPAeB2VSNsf_pAXcX5ABzZLKDwICEG563LOhWkoLSMfwkXEIl0k/s1600/DSCF0474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimk_VII69LNt4KwBMSC9wsUnkR0yE0wxJidHy3j16OhnPnpl8v9fjNgg0pEJRaAq-_J8DoMdPdMsE5mLGfEyxB3_QvOPAeB2VSNsf_pAXcX5ABzZLKDwICEG563LOhWkoLSMfwkXEIl0k/s320/DSCF0474.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sisters Shorena (middle) and Khatuna (top) and my friend Mari (bottom)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeXp6kg17CTmErwYZjeVf6dZUsTuHzXQ35wfPIXhYPAFD7k59TIi_nTDtkMeOSxsSyXcZRfg86ZHUQ5nqqB-FzmML8ZPSRceW8lb3Hcq7bSAQyc5VreeH4clQnl8fx7WvJE8svqdMcko/s1600/DSCF0484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeXp6kg17CTmErwYZjeVf6dZUsTuHzXQ35wfPIXhYPAFD7k59TIi_nTDtkMeOSxsSyXcZRfg86ZHUQ5nqqB-FzmML8ZPSRceW8lb3Hcq7bSAQyc5VreeH4clQnl8fx7WvJE8svqdMcko/s320/DSCF0484.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All of us together!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzOtEPF3nbj1ZGWZ54AjuD4wA-cQQnposcqSZHwpl0FJ8-uy_lO_zHYs1LchdloCjLYAx20ZJlipxT9znvTDCb4n-OtbC1VE5F1dae63m6jpww28g_J4GUh7v8zi6Y5N4j5wI_KB9LKg/s1600/DSCF0473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzOtEPF3nbj1ZGWZ54AjuD4wA-cQQnposcqSZHwpl0FJ8-uy_lO_zHYs1LchdloCjLYAx20ZJlipxT9znvTDCb4n-OtbC1VE5F1dae63m6jpww28g_J4GUh7v8zi6Y5N4j5wI_KB9LKg/s320/DSCF0473.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I took this picture at my house. Can you see the ship floating on the water? Are you able to distinguish between sea and sky? I thought this was so neat!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNo3OgYjOjSQ8IJpwnWWdqin4tiST60nUmHXf1I067tkdR9kMLmMApZGnQ1apIxvmRdJA8QpnaDG0QT-6mniNLPh6VXlKp0RxtOx6EgkTFV_WdS5pf6Xl2vr1_r3yKjkJnvtlsBVriPo/s1600/DSCF0536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNo3OgYjOjSQ8IJpwnWWdqin4tiST60nUmHXf1I067tkdR9kMLmMApZGnQ1apIxvmRdJA8QpnaDG0QT-6mniNLPh6VXlKp0RxtOx6EgkTFV_WdS5pf6Xl2vr1_r3yKjkJnvtlsBVriPo/s320/DSCF0536.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My directors office.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS737y5XTUtQXRSb406yJjg7fB4rEadL897aC5mb7NkOH-zozNKaEjUcd3ABhNpVRksUQlppZVULgnX-yTzynXrtNZ6Pi2K-QEd-A-MflbZm8xY_KiOX4nl5Bmsd6lw3IxybgRaXU2nRk/s1600/DSCF0538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS737y5XTUtQXRSb406yJjg7fB4rEadL897aC5mb7NkOH-zozNKaEjUcd3ABhNpVRksUQlppZVULgnX-yTzynXrtNZ6Pi2K-QEd-A-MflbZm8xY_KiOX4nl5Bmsd6lw3IxybgRaXU2nRk/s320/DSCF0538.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The students and I. My school is to our left.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3t_i0ZvoFKgTCAdaMUuKkNHD4us9J8_CCYfaCWLybTj8Je5ytHCjIQy6Df7QdSH2pEmNxj4lhOl5za02ENiWVXVuPcCFBaiGHvZbd6K0dbWm3nLtsoCkCsrHQ31nIgkpnTk733cZ8X44/s1600/DSCF0539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3t_i0ZvoFKgTCAdaMUuKkNHD4us9J8_CCYfaCWLybTj8Je5ytHCjIQy6Df7QdSH2pEmNxj4lhOl5za02ENiWVXVuPcCFBaiGHvZbd6K0dbWm3nLtsoCkCsrHQ31nIgkpnTk733cZ8X44/s320/DSCF0539.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My school. The facade needs painting, but the inside is perfect.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNG2hsSAdSsQgtlkEGkSnHxmZAUSROwVIPdD4SpNYVCVrtrLZYUkfJ-DerX5IRz_E_kPItbnqVsSSX7KnYJqTHi3jElnWuTgyXBXT-kolsl7bABDiWvR3a501o7EglNnc_Dsnl5sth6c/s1600/DSCF0540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNG2hsSAdSsQgtlkEGkSnHxmZAUSROwVIPdD4SpNYVCVrtrLZYUkfJ-DerX5IRz_E_kPItbnqVsSSX7KnYJqTHi3jElnWuTgyXBXT-kolsl7bABDiWvR3a501o7EglNnc_Dsnl5sth6c/s320/DSCF0540.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More kittens!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRAm9CINwcJS4Yw2dP5tFZsmDilGAK7XqZ0jB5RLHYUp8xcyKhzkwrjmpYOmp6uSeFkEiRYmVVOkkackiT8H1Iig9gEmlPzS0_-cDKvtJZEDcqemGiRkqCvgH7AXbbO7Rm-wcgmb3SfE/s1600/DSCF0545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRAm9CINwcJS4Yw2dP5tFZsmDilGAK7XqZ0jB5RLHYUp8xcyKhzkwrjmpYOmp6uSeFkEiRYmVVOkkackiT8H1Iig9gEmlPzS0_-cDKvtJZEDcqemGiRkqCvgH7AXbbO7Rm-wcgmb3SfE/s320/DSCF0545.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my students gave me this letter today, I think they like me.</td></tr>
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TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-68410059173453850372012-09-28T02:59:00.004-07:002012-09-28T03:05:15.587-07:00Tbilisi for the third time: September 7th to September 13th<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">
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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ZLVNVSkS1TSljVuDYZqMHL9Iv7Bc68tY5esXt0leQ-dSiQyWP-Q-mSG3enWUzvirRvTFzbqPnA5zjitnhZCAxAZd-oOLbBQpzG2AdQmbhLAYX_L9nAJXrpfXUUlJbkj86IrKHG-GwPo/s1600/DSCF0457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ZLVNVSkS1TSljVuDYZqMHL9Iv7Bc68tY5esXt0leQ-dSiQyWP-Q-mSG3enWUzvirRvTFzbqPnA5zjitnhZCAxAZd-oOLbBQpzG2AdQmbhLAYX_L9nAJXrpfXUUlJbkj86IrKHG-GwPo/s320/DSCF0457.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can walk on water. The photo was taken in Tbilisi.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheN9Veu1WLJaPc1_bb50c6JPAmqdrbuHVK6UL1kl5QNipor-EddC6yLMy4CnhCmIxLqYT3RkwTn-XcA8xCtMKr8z8XkyDPcmIK4FA11OxQaY0Lz9VcF3yPdKdauqvCwMBP97JKqu5-ayY/s1600/DSCF0464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheN9Veu1WLJaPc1_bb50c6JPAmqdrbuHVK6UL1kl5QNipor-EddC6yLMy4CnhCmIxLqYT3RkwTn-XcA8xCtMKr8z8XkyDPcmIK4FA11OxQaY0Lz9VcF3yPdKdauqvCwMBP97JKqu5-ayY/s320/DSCF0464.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With friends in our hostel.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDE31g69vAXNiac-Q96__LOwRcGUhPsL2g_osiSHgPsstVFunpNtPIJ3kT2LWx53DBzub3zNElHuFUM31GhwmxS9QHz_-b1qlWDYB8OJ1JkzjLf_SqkWK4tx4ZfUE5CcPYtshHxu8USmU/s1600/DSCF0466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDE31g69vAXNiac-Q96__LOwRcGUhPsL2g_osiSHgPsstVFunpNtPIJ3kT2LWx53DBzub3zNElHuFUM31GhwmxS9QHz_-b1qlWDYB8OJ1JkzjLf_SqkWK4tx4ZfUE5CcPYtshHxu8USmU/s320/DSCF0466.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thought this was really cool. You don't get this in America.</td></tr>
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TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-65486748464610411532012-09-08T12:24:00.003-07:002012-09-08T12:24:56.435-07:00August 24th to August 27th, Sighnaghi and Lagodecki<br />
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A week before the events in this entry occurred, I had made
an acquaintance of a peace corps volunteer named John, from Chicago, who after
twenty four months of being stationed in Kenya, had signed up for another four
months to work at Mtiarla national park near my town. John's term with the
peace corps was at an end, and he had some time off to travel and see some more
of Georgia. John had a good friend who was also from the peace corps living in
Lagodecki, who entreated us to stay at his guesthouse and visit Lagodecki
national park. After taking the night train to Tbilisi, I met up with John and
we set out on Friday morning on a Marshutka to the eastern region of Georgia,
Kakheti.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Before meeting up with Shannon, John and I went to
Sighnaghi, which was to be a slight detour to Lagodecki. The marshutka ride was
uneventful, much of Kakheti reminded me of the central valley of California in
climate and in appearance. The valley was flat but fertile, the hillsides were
browned grass and the summer air was dry. Sighnaghi is however, located on a
mountain range that splits Kakheti in two regions. The town itself is perched
at the top of a mountain overlooking the eastern valley below. Further east, at
the foot of the next mountain range is the town of Lagodecki. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The township had been redone a few years ago and is now a
major tourist destination, due to its scenery, an adjacent monastery, its wine
production and for it having a large wall. John and I
first started out exploring the wall. We started at one section and was charged
a lari by an old man, who urged us to put it in a tin cup. I know he was not a legitimate
museum curator or groundskeeper, but simply a local trying to make a dollar. I
simply wanted to be left alone, and was more than willing to depart from a lari
so that I could depart from this persistent denizen of Sighnaghi's wall. John
and I were able to explore most of the wall, which is entirely intact, and stretches
around a circle. The modern city itself is built on both sides of the southern
wall. Climbing on and walking the crenulations and towers commanded exceptional
views of the township mountains and valley below, which is shown in the photos
on this post. <o:p></o:p></div>
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John and I also visited the monastery, which I highly
recommend on seeing. The walk there was about a one and a half kilometers long outside
Sighnaghi, and mostly in the shade. We decided upon reaching a fork in the road
to take a side trip to some holy springs, apparently adjacent to the monastery.
We could see the monastery from where we were, and was only a short walk from
the fork, we figured the springs to be close, but after a half an hour walk
down the mountain and no sign of any springs, I made the decision to trudge
back up the road to the monastery. At the time, I was hot and frustrated at how
far a walk it was taking to get to the springs. I felt that it was not worth
actually going to the springs themselves, because they were so far away, and
the sign at the fork in the road said nothing about how long of a trek it was.
Its silly to have walked such a long way and to not have seen them. The
monastery complex itself was very beautiful. The church gardens were
exceptionally beautiful. They were covered in grass and greenery and the view
from them spectacular. John and I did, after the holy spring fiasco, came upon
a direct walking path down to the springs from the garden itself, to our
agitation! We decided against going down the path, since it was still too far
away, and the day was waning. Adjacent to the gardens was a old church with
fantastic icons and paintings on the inside walls, and I also got to hear a
choir sing! Other than the garden and the church, the monastery is closed off
to the rest of the public. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Heading back to Sighnaghi was uneventful, and when reaching
the city again, we found the major winery there was reserved for a huge
supra/party, and was closed to the public, which was a shame since I was really
interested in the wine culture in Georiga. Apparently the production,
distribution and consumption of wine is incredibly ancient and sacred, especially
in Kakheti. What is interesting to me especially is that production of the wine
is different from every wine producing region. The grapes are essentially
pressed and their juices are poured into large clay amphoras buried in the
ground. There they ferment for a number of months and are dug up and consumed.
I'd highly advise learning more about the wine culture and the process here. It
says so much about Georgian custom, where wine holds a strong part of. The wine
culture also says something about Georgian hospitality, where refusing a toast
or a glass of wine is a much greater insult than one may expect.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Having nothing left to see, and evening approaching, John
and I decided to take a cab over to Lagodecki. Two hours drive down one
mountain range, through the valley, to the foot of the eastern mountains, we
arrived to the city. The guesthouse was located off the main street, towards
the park, which is the mountains north of the city. We ended up staying for two
nights, had three meals, for a total of 25 lari each! I have never stayed at a
hostel for so cheep, and having meals included fortunate.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In Lagodecki, John and I met up with two other TLG'ers from
South Africa. Shannon, the peace corps volunteer who works at the park, led us
to the park and up the trail to a waterfall. Lagodecki National park is
comprised of forested mountains and alpine wilderness at higher elevations, our
hike consisted of following a river, up the forest. The trees were humongous,
and there was a dense canopy, providing shade for most of the way there. The
trail was well marked, and at times times extremely steep. The waterfall we went
to was smaller than I expected, but was still a pleasant end to a hike. The
South Africans were as into hiking as John, Shannon and I, so going on a simple
hike was ideal. To see more of the park, John and I did plan on going on a
larger hike the next day, where we could walk to our hearts content without
making our<o:p></o:p></div>
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The hike that John and I took the next day was more
difficult, as the trail was difficult to find, being placed upon a dry
riverbed. Getting lost however is out of the question, being as the trail would
simply follow the river and the river was confined in a narrow valley. About
two hours later, we reached another waterfall, much bigger than the first we
saw. The falls went about 30 meters down, and we were able to climb up to the
top of the falls and look out through the side, a bit frightening, but fun! At
the end of the hike, we hitchhiked back to our guesthouse. I really enjoyed one
particular car. The three men that picked us up bought a two and a half liter
bottle of Kazbegi beer, and urged us to have a few glasses with them on the
side of the road. I now consider that brand of Georgian beer to be my favorite,
it was a perfect end to a wonderful hike.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After the marshutka ride back to Tbilisi, we reached the
train station, only to discover the night train had sold out all of its seats.
I had to stay at Tbilisi an extra night, but I would still be getting home by
Monday night. Staying with John an extra night was pleasant enough. Tbilisi has
more of a variety (we had shwarma for dinner!) and I got to learn more about
John's stay in the peace corps, and about his term in Kenya. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I would like to stay in Kakheti longer, however I wanted to
make it back to my host mother, Naira's birthday. I feel that I have been
neglecting my family this past week, and I've been meaning to spend more time
with them. When I get back to Gorgadzeebi, I plan on sticking around there for
a about a week. School is starting in Mid September, and although I don't quite
know when the exact date is (the sources vary from September 17th to the 20th)
I should start thinking about lesson plans and preparing for my actual job.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZh7jNmty5YgILmbPOLu6D6bChkVxdcLtY6fNQl9P8Iitwf3QbLTjzyRn429o8smEauVI_7V6Qedk0HdcQN2hGc0Kw62lcNiNJv8va_8opfHBHq9xXsUh3ToWA-D6owfCxlDoCg0lqIdM/s1600/DSCF0371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZh7jNmty5YgILmbPOLu6D6bChkVxdcLtY6fNQl9P8Iitwf3QbLTjzyRn429o8smEauVI_7V6Qedk0HdcQN2hGc0Kw62lcNiNJv8va_8opfHBHq9xXsUh3ToWA-D6owfCxlDoCg0lqIdM/s320/DSCF0371.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sighnaghi: Looks like a village in Italy right?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRS85R8bswsQbog7YSFXdtMquaK_xykD7Vj1V7RQ_1VoHwAbYZMNt1OuYar9sb0n52CQdL9nyMdC0iECCt713_KyLZpOSzaBiQt5GfTxa8mtv8S9p5g45Ar1i0FPO4TmS71iVp0s1WEs/s1600/DSCF0379.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRS85R8bswsQbog7YSFXdtMquaK_xykD7Vj1V7RQ_1VoHwAbYZMNt1OuYar9sb0n52CQdL9nyMdC0iECCt713_KyLZpOSzaBiQt5GfTxa8mtv8S9p5g45Ar1i0FPO4TmS71iVp0s1WEs/s320/DSCF0379.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbed myself a city wall, you can do this in Georgia without any concern of someone telling you not to.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmf2ahRjlVkHnGCS0v2rgd0YDg4FRyc7Igi1qZrdjrHZdKvGuXNoB1S0Gh5IyfzbrhG4DEL8xYrWGNkBPOo91EhjmUvFafyostdFfbD_1L8qC8B0SX18wDXznnW5VQPoKdtyd98PTwMw/s1600/DSCF0387.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmf2ahRjlVkHnGCS0v2rgd0YDg4FRyc7Igi1qZrdjrHZdKvGuXNoB1S0Gh5IyfzbrhG4DEL8xYrWGNkBPOo91EhjmUvFafyostdFfbD_1L8qC8B0SX18wDXznnW5VQPoKdtyd98PTwMw/s320/DSCF0387.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John, My peace core friend. Behind him lies the valley Sighnaghi overlooks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXMblOTSgqJIrLchzGkzp2-d9MAyYCdVjxI0xnUiGo0UJN6sk6gKRhvgjBIY2g9X_LksM8oPuf2v7nFIBPe2cSGzsbLYPmWCnZD1pe6dtenc8wo9L-PUi40cPWogj5OrsGbOaVLlGXLdw/s1600/DSCF0405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXMblOTSgqJIrLchzGkzp2-d9MAyYCdVjxI0xnUiGo0UJN6sk6gKRhvgjBIY2g9X_LksM8oPuf2v7nFIBPe2cSGzsbLYPmWCnZD1pe6dtenc8wo9L-PUi40cPWogj5OrsGbOaVLlGXLdw/s320/DSCF0405.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big waterfall at Lagodecki.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbp3BV9rdPyAIWDpHYEnQ1psznqL7CiWt3jGWVCbqc6jePA7EuSjxwKp03qzk8fqt4Aml409Dzq2vXzIzaxFD_ZFmjTEZxkKCk5AZx1FQPdyVkfVEgN22yKLXupwrxRo-KXErmV2_KDBc/s1600/DSCF0407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbp3BV9rdPyAIWDpHYEnQ1psznqL7CiWt3jGWVCbqc6jePA7EuSjxwKp03qzk8fqt4Aml409Dzq2vXzIzaxFD_ZFmjTEZxkKCk5AZx1FQPdyVkfVEgN22yKLXupwrxRo-KXErmV2_KDBc/s320/DSCF0407.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John and I climbed to the top of the waterfall and took a picture off the edge, quite a thrilling experience. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_U2NtfK70SjrHvlbZDXiUIEMwEuFBBoWfzqFxR6lH2sC69b9qI0nn91gNf4QiWj1envZ-q4v_qLubCAFrsIqyc1_sVSUtyopa6sbpoT2Jc46zY1Rjxa2nS0rjjWszXEqwbOKILDWuXZw/s1600/DSCF0420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_U2NtfK70SjrHvlbZDXiUIEMwEuFBBoWfzqFxR6lH2sC69b9qI0nn91gNf4QiWj1envZ-q4v_qLubCAFrsIqyc1_sVSUtyopa6sbpoT2Jc46zY1Rjxa2nS0rjjWszXEqwbOKILDWuXZw/s320/DSCF0420.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Further up the river, we came upon a smaller waterfall, you don't know how cold this water was.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiURFfpP4RJmOZvTaEzT-Ul84mEng39rEtVE0scEDzwfu76mWxCgl3_a4ImnR3FRLPS4uQz3QPnZR8UaJARo8OuMYnX5TFCVFoQImCneYw8mZgVfINKPp8Fu-xcEQB5egEVVgPbcp4uA70/s1600/DSCF0437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiURFfpP4RJmOZvTaEzT-Ul84mEng39rEtVE0scEDzwfu76mWxCgl3_a4ImnR3FRLPS4uQz3QPnZR8UaJARo8OuMYnX5TFCVFoQImCneYw8mZgVfINKPp8Fu-xcEQB5egEVVgPbcp4uA70/s320/DSCF0437.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you see the rainbow? The area below this waterfall is absolutely splattered with vapor. Standing there for 30 seconds gets you completely soaked. A bizarre piece of land where the distinction of water and air are blurred.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL1Jm0KS51D4fZPQvXugvWasjE-J_qLSkWA1fIOZzi15ystYxTKaB7umjZvOj7SSlp-fxYunpVkjZFIptofbDn9TPSczjPraUgH5b2y80Nd3Vskrzd2OUvSSkWNV0AnEocmmaQk5thnSg/s1600/DSCF0445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL1Jm0KS51D4fZPQvXugvWasjE-J_qLSkWA1fIOZzi15ystYxTKaB7umjZvOj7SSlp-fxYunpVkjZFIptofbDn9TPSczjPraUgH5b2y80Nd3Vskrzd2OUvSSkWNV0AnEocmmaQk5thnSg/s320/DSCF0445.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big trees at Lagodecki</td></tr>
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TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-68531219256732428082012-08-22T00:26:00.001-07:002012-09-28T04:20:43.354-07:00August 11th-August 14th. Bookstore pilgrimage to Tbilisi.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The time after coming back from Mestia and Zugdidi was spent
in a combination of family-time and exploration around Batumi and Gorgadzeebi. Untill
school starting on September 20th, village activity is scarce. For some of the
volunteers, staying in a quiet village is a tedious and boring time, but I like
it. Spending time in the village slows the hours of the day, allowing for
reflection, relaxation and above all else, it give time to read pages and pages
of books. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reading is one of my favorite pastimes. I have been able to
read without disruption here for hours and hours. Yet, at the rate I am
currently reading at, I'll run out of material in a matter of weeks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I decided to look for a bookstore in Batumi, and buy up some
literature in English. Unfortunately, the several bookstores have Georgian and
Russian literature, and none in English (although later on, I found a bookstore
with a limited section of English classics). Online sources tell of an
extensive bookstore in Tbilisi, which has a wide selection of books in English.
I felt more driven than I had in days at the idea of going all the way to
Tbilisi just for books, an idea akin to a pilgrimage. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A six hour Marshutka ride from Batumi landed me in Tbilisi,
where I met up with two of my friends there, Megan and Griffin. They are living
in an apartment, which was a built in 1907 by an Armenian man. The ceiling was
4 meters high, it had air conditioning, hot water, and was fully furnished. The
jar of honey made in Chakvistavi in Mtiarla National Park, which I gave them as
thanks for letting me stay at their apartment was too small for this sort of
luxury. I'm used to spring beds, cold showers and sweltering heat. The
apartment made me realize how Tbilisi is indeed a modern city, setting it apart
from my rural area, and even Batumi.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tbilisi does have an abundance of modern amenities, among
them are crosswalks, streetlights, and subways. The part of Tbilisi I really
appreciated was the restaurants. Griffin and Megan took me to European cafes,
with sandwiches, American coffee, and Gelato; all nostalgic food from the west
and well worth the inflated city prices. For a change of cuisine, Tbilisi also
has an Indian restaurant. Georgian food isn't traditionally spicy, aside for
some small peppers my grandmother Nanuli puts in my salad. The Indian
restaurant, although good in itself was a well appreciated alternative to
Georgian food. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Prospero's bookstore, located at 32 Rustaveli avenue had
many travel guides, coffee table books, a few shelves of fiction, and a lot of
classics. Although a modest selection by most standards, in my eyes, Prospero's
was the library at Alexandria. I walked out of that bookstore with six more
novels and fifty less lari. The pilgrim is satisfied. The books should keep me
busy for the next few months. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Taking the train to Batumi is a much more pleasant ride,
although getting a ticket is a difficult matter. I was shuffled around to
different counters only to find out from the clerk that the train is sold out.
When I asked for a ticket for the next day, she gave me a ticket for the
"sold out" train. I boarded soon after and was put in a sleeper car. Traveling
by train is a much better way for long distances. The price is competitive to
the buses, but there is much more room. Plus, being able to sleep laying down
in the train, as opposed to sitting up in a marshutka is worth the few extra
lari. Another bonus, the trains have air conditioning!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOUelcX8cVrOPfK8_7TVQHOeZMm_3sHZaVF58pG-fTMv24C8tHUmlFrsF1jHSbNYCFnqjLTshAlFUdM_nYzOyMCIcEUuckg2k5gm5iBLer58rATO6wi_3tyUwnQckugZkgiB52yHCbdgc/s1600/2012-08-11+16.27.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOUelcX8cVrOPfK8_7TVQHOeZMm_3sHZaVF58pG-fTMv24C8tHUmlFrsF1jHSbNYCFnqjLTshAlFUdM_nYzOyMCIcEUuckg2k5gm5iBLer58rATO6wi_3tyUwnQckugZkgiB52yHCbdgc/s320/2012-08-11+16.27.02.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The spoils of my Tbilisi trip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA41fGScjHzypcefXG_PjkdrVXqDDHNXU1TcqrL86XnE4kvSMQnKCLZ3AbpavSD-6iFZZT0g2gf4HKRleLb_BIw0HXQWr62d6KO-bXLI1tWiNa5LlCdEeFl4p6OCwup4JgBD8OFIoIc6c/s1600/2012-08-12+16.04.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA41fGScjHzypcefXG_PjkdrVXqDDHNXU1TcqrL86XnE4kvSMQnKCLZ3AbpavSD-6iFZZT0g2gf4HKRleLb_BIw0HXQWr62d6KO-bXLI1tWiNa5LlCdEeFl4p6OCwup4JgBD8OFIoIc6c/s320/2012-08-12+16.04.28.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tbilisi has a cathedral. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5KOHpaXzRvxT2wDS09v3Vl-wiDekCWiiNZDilRdFqw0gnWqzM_BbKAyqzfgnxke-XmXi8SAxZT2NJ5HQnfPAsGNVp8CB8tphmVtzZPeYdBclKLsS4_6yVlbKGZM0P1vTOTS3yjENgxg/s1600/2012-08-12+16.13.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5KOHpaXzRvxT2wDS09v3Vl-wiDekCWiiNZDilRdFqw0gnWqzM_BbKAyqzfgnxke-XmXi8SAxZT2NJ5HQnfPAsGNVp8CB8tphmVtzZPeYdBclKLsS4_6yVlbKGZM0P1vTOTS3yjENgxg/s320/2012-08-12+16.13.23.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside of Tbilisi's cathedral. </td></tr>
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TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-27931766759009761232012-08-14T07:34:00.003-07:002012-08-14T07:34:48.584-07:00An apology, a defense and a few links.<br />
A month after I wrote this blog, I came back and reread the posts, and discovered a number of grammar mistakes, colloquialism and altogether bad writing. I apologize.<br />
<br />
I should provide an explanation of TLG role is in education. A copy of the teaching statement on the TLG website, found here <a href="http://www.tlg.gov.ge/content.php?id=94&lang=eng">http://www.tlg.gov.ge/content.php?id=94&lang=eng</a><br />
<br />
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', tahoma, verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">
The Ministry of Education and Science of Georgia has designed Teach and Learn with Georgia to:</div>
<ul style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', tahoma, verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">
<li>Recruit native and fluent English speakers to co-teach in Georgian public schools</li>
<li>Promote English language education across Georgia</li>
<li>Implement new teaching methodologies focusing on listening and speaking skills</li>
<li>Track progress and tackle challenges in the Georgian education system</li>
<li>Provide an opportunity for Georgian communities to share their values and engage in a cultural exchange with people from all over the world</li>
</ul>
<br />
The teaching methodology during Georgia's soviet past was grammar based. The native English speakers role is to teach English, but using methodologies that have little focus on grammar or writing, to depart from soviet teaching methodologies.<br />
<br />
Aside from a collage diploma, the volunteers have no educational requirements to participate in TLG. Most of the volunteers I have met have no teaching experience, myself included.<br />
<br />
A really good blog entry brings up different ideas and issues on teaching Georgians proper English grammar or conversation. I recommend reading <a href="http://teachandlearnwithgeorgia.wordpress.com/2012/03/13/what-to-teach-pet-peeves/">http://teachandlearnwithgeorgia.wordpress.com/2012/03/13/what-to-teach-pet-peeves/</a>. I'd like to hear your thoughts, concerns, etc on the matter.<br />
<br />
This is, however no excuse for my blog. In the meantime I'll work on my writing.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-8658425269300484302012-08-10T11:25:00.001-07:002012-09-28T04:19:56.391-07:00August 5th to August 7th. Mestia<br />
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The ride to Mestia was thrilling. The sweltering city of
Zugdidi was behind us, and within a half an hour of departure, we were in the
mountains. The lower elevation was covered in forest, but there were also
landslide scars and quite a few rocks on the newly-built road at times. The
road twisted through a steep river valley, the bottom was a large
turquoise-colored reservoir, used for hydroelectric power. When the Soviet
Union collapsed, Georgia's power infrastructure was in shambles. Seeing this
feat of engineering is a testament of how far this nation has come in only
twenty years.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As we reached higher elevation, the valley widened into
farmland and pastures. There were cows, but no fences. Our marshutka driver had
to occasionally dodge a cow. We had a few fearful moments when the marshutka
swerved out of the way of some stupid animal deciding to cross the road. Swerving
from cows through high alpine roads fed our appetite for beef. Because we
departed early in the morning, we didn't have time to stop anywhere and eat.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When we reached the towns before Mestia, it was like
traveling through medieval cities. Most of the buildings were made of stone,
the streets were narrow, and each town had several stone towers projecting past
the other buildings' rooftops. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Mestia itself was similar to the other towns, except it was
larger, and the entire main street was under construction. Apparently, Georgia
is trying to turn Mestia into a ski resort. There was so much dust and debris
in the streets, it was a bit surprising to come across. When you hear about
Svaneti, you think of an ancient and isolated land. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Their also as a lot of litter in Mestia. Usually my village
has some, but not like this. We were literally walking on garbage, the river
had garbage floating down its rapids, and garbage lined its shores. Usually my
village burns its garbage, plastic and all, but in Mestia it just piles.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When we arrived, it was still too early to eat, so we went exploring
the city's back roads, and climbed up a hill to get a better view of Mestia. After
that, there wasn't much to do in the city itself. Mestia is too small to have
significant sights in the city itself. I consider it to be another stopping off
point to its surroundings. Outside the city, there are monasteries, glaciers,
and hiking trails. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I was hoping we could continue the trip to Ushguli, the
highest year round occupied city in Europe, but it was a 200 lari cab ride, and
that was one way! The group and I are too cheap to spend that kind of money, so
instead we went on a hike to Chalaadi glacier. To save time, a cab took us
where the road ends. From there, a hiking trail winds up a steep river valley
to the glacier, which is approximately 5 miles from the city. The hike was
beautiful, we went through pines and birch trees along a river. The Temperature
was around 70F, but was much cooler by the river, the turbulent waters sprayed
cool water into the adjacent air. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The hike to the glacier was a bit crowded with people.
Mestia has many tourists visiting: Swedes, Russians, British, Italians, other
Georgians, etc. Many of the Svans we met spoke more English, compared to people
living in Tbilisi or Batumi.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Glacier was an amazing sight, and we were able to walk
along boulders to get close to it. When we arrived at the edge of the glacier,
you could see water trickling down into the river. Water would surge up from
underneath the ice, creating the river that we were traveling alongside the
trail. One of my thoughts on seeing a glacier for the first time was how much
movement is occuring. Water is pouring down its sides, and small rocks and
pebbles continually slide off it into the water. It was defiantly not a boring
block of ice, but a dynamic landmark, with a mind of its own. The sounds were
trickles of water, splashing rapids, a clatter of rocks and pebbles. <o:p></o:p></div>
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A bit of knowledge our group picked up in Mestia is that in
Georgian restaurants, you never know what your going to get. There are menus,
and you can read them, find something and order. When the waiter frowns and
shakes his head, you know they don't have what you ordered. After a few shakes
of the head, you eventually find something, I've been lucky with ordering fried
pork and potatoes. They have a lot of pork and potatoes in Mestia. To my
traveling companions dismay, sometimes fried chicken isn't fried at all, but
served in a soup. Sometimes you will order and pay for coffee and it never
comes. Once I've gone without paying for my entire meal. I had the money, I
handed it to the cashier, and she just waved me away! <o:p></o:p></div>
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There was an unfortunate event for my friend happened when
we both ordered the same thing, which was fried pork. Our waitress brought to
us one plate of the predictably delicious menu item. Adam, being the generous
friend that he is, allowed me to eat the first plate. Twenty minutes later, we
find out from the waitress that the plate she brought out was two servings of
fried pork! We found this out only after I had eaten it all. I still feel bad
about this, and I am sorry for Adam. What is funny is that Adam has had
horrible luck in Georgian restaurants. What he wants is almost always not on
the menu, His food always comes out last, and he is given his beer/drinks last
as well. He ordered what I ordered first specifically because I had good luck
getting what I wanted, and he figured they can't mess up fried pork,
specifically when I order it!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUvJYcW-KH7d703-dsVLcjLvcOPcQ2BfuxJbYTysc5-geKaKWEQ-TNLGZtVng8ggLbZ7WjcBD1mCvsKPnmejS8X5xHhmGiiEPSQZUUg9_6ucvCDC-7IlScknrAyuxGirttLod16ZW1CMA/s1600/2012-08-04+11.43.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUvJYcW-KH7d703-dsVLcjLvcOPcQ2BfuxJbYTysc5-geKaKWEQ-TNLGZtVng8ggLbZ7WjcBD1mCvsKPnmejS8X5xHhmGiiEPSQZUUg9_6ucvCDC-7IlScknrAyuxGirttLod16ZW1CMA/s320/2012-08-04+11.43.31.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mestia's main road. Like I said earlier, the city is being rebuilt.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmQrGmUAds3a8GEHvtGOwCE8e-AVWGauJ4-F-NsiX5aVX9N9yF3ZigFOlYAfcIjvAAEn3HQILu7vdPJIjfTjtXYnIq8CELBTYkWY4cyw-5TVJlz0PtECxhdUhDxFTg-f1TCtULFlLYGo/s1600/2012-08-04+13.05.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmQrGmUAds3a8GEHvtGOwCE8e-AVWGauJ4-F-NsiX5aVX9N9yF3ZigFOlYAfcIjvAAEn3HQILu7vdPJIjfTjtXYnIq8CELBTYkWY4cyw-5TVJlz0PtECxhdUhDxFTg-f1TCtULFlLYGo/s320/2012-08-04+13.05.35.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful from far away. The city I mean, not Adam.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSEKiQ0JuQzFDGksspOmfg0rOJgVvSBvd86If3REAp90wcOwObv1NzaKDjZ73jSWXGetMrEshQ7g86XGmVXWBavKIOsIGwq3C_tgCMGOYNZuVSYWvAyBIyUCgZcYQ7zHA1AZ7HK95P1w/s1600/2012-08-04+13.42.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSEKiQ0JuQzFDGksspOmfg0rOJgVvSBvd86If3REAp90wcOwObv1NzaKDjZ73jSWXGetMrEshQ7g86XGmVXWBavKIOsIGwq3C_tgCMGOYNZuVSYWvAyBIyUCgZcYQ7zHA1AZ7HK95P1w/s320/2012-08-04+13.42.47.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes. That is a cow inside this building.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTnniF6EQ3yMIBIQBaljA6x9-bOKnNSy59C1J3CTj-cZ9iebFHmdgiCw6JeZa2Cy35kZhCXrbsb8WUvzRz0uykcwWq45Fc0QR1PkgiU-NEtyrMRePe_Igl8ILt9pMemjatcJ8xWrv6G0c/s1600/2012-08-04+15.21.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTnniF6EQ3yMIBIQBaljA6x9-bOKnNSy59C1J3CTj-cZ9iebFHmdgiCw6JeZa2Cy35kZhCXrbsb8WUvzRz0uykcwWq45Fc0QR1PkgiU-NEtyrMRePe_Igl8ILt9pMemjatcJ8xWrv6G0c/s320/2012-08-04+15.21.19.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our new hostel. Adam is laying down on the left and Ryan is climbing to the right.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVSX0a8Qr_aeUgds5z3jj5aorHPHx52QzkNUquIcnEpAOV6bHi11ApbNuYQBxZa5-oqhCzaOJDLP68Byl45Bj1bdSrn64rEaqAy3CHqh4MlGy61sXy20B9bWyZb2Zg1gLlYyPQazgqTFI/s1600/2012-08-05+13.46.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVSX0a8Qr_aeUgds5z3jj5aorHPHx52QzkNUquIcnEpAOV6bHi11ApbNuYQBxZa5-oqhCzaOJDLP68Byl45Bj1bdSrn64rEaqAy3CHqh4MlGy61sXy20B9bWyZb2Zg1gLlYyPQazgqTFI/s320/2012-08-05+13.46.21.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me crossing a bridge on the way to the Glacier.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO2Lyh6hL50a-Rll7QMFOFAJSD3y5EXRUF-p79-MkQvb-q3MIDECNeHOSsfFvMmG3-KVKJxVVvtCj6-BbuTGa_MwaivTVj9k5vMSi8tQ-0ioyM8LUw2ummdV96lprjwjLpvyO_vzjLgkk/s1600/2012-08-05+14.32.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO2Lyh6hL50a-Rll7QMFOFAJSD3y5EXRUF-p79-MkQvb-q3MIDECNeHOSsfFvMmG3-KVKJxVVvtCj6-BbuTGa_MwaivTVj9k5vMSi8tQ-0ioyM8LUw2ummdV96lprjwjLpvyO_vzjLgkk/s320/2012-08-05+14.32.07.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The glacier.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFTY9MxbwhVqURLuvUam9XLbLW_go9irwUfeU1pnpEexBCr5motCjUSTagzUcDhKXABET3A_9jTtwP6RYY234d1SNlgu-0p_2wSGi3PLLZo_q5Z8Iy8Z5bbL3XgGYHfNTaDy3SbgHl5Qc/s1600/2012-08-05+14.57.54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFTY9MxbwhVqURLuvUam9XLbLW_go9irwUfeU1pnpEexBCr5motCjUSTagzUcDhKXABET3A_9jTtwP6RYY234d1SNlgu-0p_2wSGi3PLLZo_q5Z8Iy8Z5bbL3XgGYHfNTaDy3SbgHl5Qc/s320/2012-08-05+14.57.54.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me reading at the base of a glacier. I did this to annoy Brian Johnson who does not to understand why people like to read while on vacation.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-87055562472064390902012-08-10T11:09:00.003-07:002012-09-28T04:18:09.722-07:00August 3rd-August 7th Zugdidi<br />
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Zugdidi means "Big Hill" but the city itself was
flat. I met up with two other TLGers named Tara and Rachael in Kobuleti, where
we all paid a cab driver 12 lari each to drive us to Zugdidi. Driving to the
city brought us through the Guria and Samegrelo regions. From what I saw, the
land is flat and fertile, but altogether, I am glad to be living in Adjara. I
would take hills and mountains any day, and it was unbearably hot during the
journey. A marshutka ride would have been an inferno, getting a cab to take us
was a benevolent luxury.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Zugdidi is a moderately sized city, located about 30 km from
the coastline. We were dropped off at a train station. From their, we made our
way to the city center. A long, thin park at the city center provided shade and
a fountain, where, eventually the TLG volunteers converged. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The TLGers and I told about each others' stories and descriptions
of our families, over pizza and burgers at a fast food restaurant. A note of
interest, Pizzas in Georgia are usually topped with mayonnaise. From what I
heard, the families are awesome like mine, or have little quirks. One
volunteer's family pushes too much alcohol on him. Another family doesn't want
her to leave...ever. One family even has a horrible animal-child that bites,
scratches and claws at their adopted volunteer!<o:p></o:p></div>
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My family policy for me so far has been very hands off. They
are great to be around with when they are home, but usually are busy during the
day, and are out of the house. My father Romani, either comes home at night, or
not at all. My brother, Levani operates machinery in Batumi during the weekdays,
and stays there for long periods of time. Xatuna works in Chakvi as a server at
the Oasis Hotel, the resort town next to mine, and her schedule is like her
father's. The only two family members that have been consistently home have
been my host sister Shorena and my Grandmother, Nanuli. They didn't mind me
leaving, just were curious on where I was going and when I should be back. I
like being treated as an adult here, and expect this to work out really well, especially
since I plan on traveling some more before school starts. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Soon after arriving, I came to the conclusion that Zugdidi is
a boring city. Aside from a museum, the city has no other real attractions. For
lodgings, we stayed in a quaint hostel a half-an-hour walk from the city
center. The hostel was run by an ex-TLG member and gave us a five lari each
discount! It was the first hostel I've stayed at and was pleasantly surprised.
The beds were confortable, their was a shower, and the other travelers were
friendly. The road to the hostel, was a dusty, their was no shade and at night,
packs of wild dogs would roam the streets. To paint a picture, it was great
seeing everyone, but I consider the city to be more of a stopping off point to
Svaneti to the North. At the hostel, the previous occupants left maps of
Georgia in the common area. The map of Svaneti had mountains and snow, and
glaciers, compared to humidity, dust and wild dogs in Zugdidi. I became intrigued
with the idea of visiting Svaneti from Zugdidi.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The first night in Zugididi, we spent our time drinking Georgian
wine at a bar called "Amerikidan" which was a good night of parting.
We all had a lot to drink, enough make us think we were all good dancers, a lot
of memorable moments were made that night. The owner of the bar was an American
who said the bar has all kinds of good holiday events, (Halloween, Thankgiving,
Christmas, etc) but, I wouldn't want to come back to Zugdidi just for a party. I'm
not inclined to stay at a bar for too long. A few hours hanging out is nice,
but continuous drinking becomes wearisome...and expensive. Four hours of
dancing, I was ready to go home and sleep, but the other TLG-ers wanted to stay
much longer. To get out of the bar, I took my friend Cameron home, who had
actually fallen asleep sitting up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next day, we went to Anaklia, which is a coastal town.
Resorts and abandoned hotels lined the beaches. Georgia is a combination of
ruins and new construction. There were crowds before apparently, and there will
be in the future, but the present has sparsely populated beaches and hotels
with low rates. The beach at Anaklia had actual sand and not the smooth stones
at the beaches at Chakvi and Batumi. What I liked the most was a half-constructed,
abandoned cement pier jutting into the sea. People were climbing up it, and
jumping off down a 15 foot drop. Of course I wanted to jump off it too, so
Rachael and I climbed up this makeshift ladder (A branch of some tree) at the
base of the pier. We maneuvered through the half constructed deck to where the
water was deep enough and jumped!. Jumping off was the highlight of the day,
unfortunately, I didn't take any pictures. I'll hopefully poach someone else's
picture of the pier. Anaklia also has a water park which was going to open up
the next day. We walked by it, and It looked awesome, but I didn't want to stay
in Zugdidi an extra day, I wanted to move on to visit other places.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I convinced Five of us to visit the city of Mestia in
Svaneti. Svaneti is located in the Greater Caucasus mountains in the north, and
is apparently a cold and harsh climate. The summer months are much cooler than
the rest of Georgia, and has some of the best mountain scenery in the country.
From what I've heard, the people are extremely rough and independent. They have
their own language, culture and customs. Even their religion is a mix of
Christianity and pagan religions. One of my goals for this trip was to visit
Svaneti, and perhaps make it up to Ushguli. Comprised of several villages,
Ushguli, is the highest year-round occupied town in Europe. Svaneti was never
conquered by foreign invaders, and many ancient Georgian artifacts, art and
treasures were housed here during wars and invasions, and remain in the it's
museums. The highland towns have declined to give up their artifacts to the
Georgian government, leaving Mestia's museums empty of most of Georgian art,
icons and history. Extending our trip from Zugdidi to Mestia was exciting. I
was surprised on how flexible everyone was, being paid to travel in Georgia
really frees everyone's schedules. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The last night in Zugdidi was quiet . Some were
heading home, others were going to Turkey, and others were leaving to Armenia. Paul
was even traveling to Sicily for a wedding. Five of us were to take a six hour
marshutka ride up through a newly built road through the mountains to Mestia.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw53Ych66MhfnRoPNdIeRzCxm56EeRuSbplQ9LcTgA6Aqx1IKVI39KMAQrprKLAtUiMCuTRMvVHHz3pt96hDEt619XvqNXkeQ6wYxp4xtUnawBWV3zgJmZ0eUf5GOqB72w2dLzZAKaym4/s1600/2012-08-02+13.54.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw53Ych66MhfnRoPNdIeRzCxm56EeRuSbplQ9LcTgA6Aqx1IKVI39KMAQrprKLAtUiMCuTRMvVHHz3pt96hDEt619XvqNXkeQ6wYxp4xtUnawBWV3zgJmZ0eUf5GOqB72w2dLzZAKaym4/s320/2012-08-02+13.54.55.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tara on the left (Marskhniv) and Caitlin on the right (Marjviniv) Posing in front of one of the two fountains in Zugdidi. It is hot and humid there, I've dunked my head in that fountain more than once.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7DvUgmdo3_TtZT59n-_pkueIaeMMIX0v1GCdGSDfRCAeZOVoHj_rXMC0F_mSKDxv2BjTVLuumKsF6lL1pkC6O5FD9Qb0XffY9xevrjGitUORPqO8jHhEFSdoMbaQHeFyRGdx-8THBaJI/s1600/2012-08-02+15.14.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7DvUgmdo3_TtZT59n-_pkueIaeMMIX0v1GCdGSDfRCAeZOVoHj_rXMC0F_mSKDxv2BjTVLuumKsF6lL1pkC6O5FD9Qb0XffY9xevrjGitUORPqO8jHhEFSdoMbaQHeFyRGdx-8THBaJI/s320/2012-08-02+15.14.32.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This house is the Diadani museum. We were rushed through paintings, furniture, antique silverware and Napoleon's death mask by some Georgian friends.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfHQYfJniyNPvqySZjuFJCze3nWAlx4NgWEqg9vn7NHIQ0gVfRsP2DA05ChHiaVizc1ZkrTuNzxUAIDUdjUR9hXVe613cAB_K58zQbbUKvzuuUf-vbg7QM4pquZfAAXEJGBVB2imjoM7g/s1600/2012-08-02+15.15.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfHQYfJniyNPvqySZjuFJCze3nWAlx4NgWEqg9vn7NHIQ0gVfRsP2DA05ChHiaVizc1ZkrTuNzxUAIDUdjUR9hXVe613cAB_K58zQbbUKvzuuUf-vbg7QM4pquZfAAXEJGBVB2imjoM7g/s320/2012-08-02+15.15.36.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me being cheesy.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh32Y1uIf6S6fo7ZuxcV39XdRek4H7Xre4ZbCjGzj1r2wQQh0TL0rxqw0qZSSwQwINHig4v_rZmScCriQFHsLUvdGATEKrLZ3iRkO19oj47bFmcKdfxFq3i1aHNiaXqJH_xi4F6GAHsVSs/s1600/2012-08-03+01.37.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh32Y1uIf6S6fo7ZuxcV39XdRek4H7Xre4ZbCjGzj1r2wQQh0TL0rxqw0qZSSwQwINHig4v_rZmScCriQFHsLUvdGATEKrLZ3iRkO19oj47bFmcKdfxFq3i1aHNiaXqJH_xi4F6GAHsVSs/s320/2012-08-03+01.37.08.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We drank a lot at Amerakidan, but the bill for the wine was only 97 lari. Go Figure.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwZ0S5sF58XYoiriu6I0jQI2W-p93Xq3-896YM8Oq0MU71mm19thUTyzW-uTtSkvRTGgi6V7V9t2gxwYxWJ6cd8uUJfnFJG5Qe-IrtjNdGX_EpTkxoXwlVJoQFsMQ7Wwwn71ftE_o1vUo/s1600/2012-08-03+14.40.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwZ0S5sF58XYoiriu6I0jQI2W-p93Xq3-896YM8Oq0MU71mm19thUTyzW-uTtSkvRTGgi6V7V9t2gxwYxWJ6cd8uUJfnFJG5Qe-IrtjNdGX_EpTkxoXwlVJoQFsMQ7Wwwn71ftE_o1vUo/s320/2012-08-03+14.40.02.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another old abandoned building in the park next to the museum. Did I mention I like old abandoned buildings? I'd live in one, but it would defeat the purpose.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeaEOpGj5PpoYCDqJCyYVaQUoV5C6KgHPH-G0fBSeBU-NtNpna-GWagtb0VkXRPGYYYd-RGwnwHKwFTPHDKjkoWtUn0FIopYWtO7Gru8Nd96me6_6Gs4k_nRp3bZtKoV6d6PczNsZ1CDE/s1600/2012-08-03+17.22.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeaEOpGj5PpoYCDqJCyYVaQUoV5C6KgHPH-G0fBSeBU-NtNpna-GWagtb0VkXRPGYYYd-RGwnwHKwFTPHDKjkoWtUn0FIopYWtO7Gru8Nd96me6_6Gs4k_nRp3bZtKoV6d6PczNsZ1CDE/s320/2012-08-03+17.22.06.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anaklia! To the left is the pier I jumped off of, to the right is a waterpark that promises to be open tomorrow. Nice try Georgia, I've been lied to before here.</td></tr>
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TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-43879235349261298892012-08-10T09:29:00.002-07:002012-09-28T04:16:09.097-07:00August 1st. Botanical Gardens<br />
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Today I went to go see an Byzantine fortress called Petra.
Located 7 km away from my village, I decided it is close enough to walk. My
village, perched on a hill, was easy to walk down. Chakvi, the seaside town
next to Gorgadzeebi took about a mile to get to. From there, Petra is 5 km
north. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I also was hoping to stop at the Chakvi train station, which
was on the way there to find out about train schedules. I could see it on
Google maps, though it never mentioned that it was empty. The station only has
trains stop there. There were no ticket stands, people or any information.
Google maps failed me. Already, the day wasn't turning out so well, and that is
when the rain started pouring in from the black sea. The "train"
station had some covered benches that was shared by roadside workers, waiting
for the storm to let up. The weather can be unpredictable in Adjara, when I
started walking, it was hot and sunny, with very little clouds.<o:p></o:p></div>
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An hour later, the storm was reduced to a drizzle. I decided
to continue north some more, when I hit some costal hills. Walking up those was
a bit daunting, since there was no sidewalk. I had to walk along the road
itself, which was heavily trafficked. It started pouring again, and there was
no sight of the fortress, and I did not trust the awareness of the other cars,
I felt it was time to call it a day and head back. I was able to hail a
Marshutka heading to Batumi and head home. Although the transportation system
of Georgia is haphazard, it somehow is extremely efficient. I have never felt
stranded during my time here. There was also buses and I could always call up a
taxi, and hitchhiking, although frowned upon, is always an option.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Marshutka dropped me off at Chakvi and that was when the
rain stopped and it became gorgeous. Instead of heading back home though, I
decided to explore some more. One kilometer south of Chakvi is the Batumi
Botanical gardens. There was some breathtaking Georgian scenery on the way
there, proven in the photos given below.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Batumi's botanical gardens are an enormous park hugging the
coastline, extending into the hills a kilometer inland. Composed of many
sections, the gardens house a variety plant and tree species from all over the
world. Green houses, headquarters, and a few houses dotted the park, but it was
still so open! I highly recommend visiting these gardens. My favorite part of
the park was old and run-down greenhouses. The plants outside are literally
swallowing these buildings, while the plants inside are bursting out their
broken panes, windows, and walls. I love old and abandoned buildings, something
Georgia has in abundance. I would and plan on, going back with more volunteers
just so see the greenhouses again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I mentioned earlier how huge the park was, I spent about 5
hours inside, and saw about half of it. It was so amazing, that I missed the
last shuttle into my village and had to walk the entire way back. Totally worth
it, since I spent the next day lazing about the house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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On Friday, I am going to Zugdidi, a city in the <span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Samegrelo</span>
region, north of where I am staying. A number of the TLG volunteers want to
meet up and hang out. It has been about two weeks since I last spoke with
native English speakers, and am excited to hear about everyone's families,
regions, et cetra. Mostly, It is good to explore Georgia. TLG is literally
paying us while we are on vacation and when school starts at the end of
September, my time would limited to weekend excursions. Expect great stories
and adventures in the next blog!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0mBH0uC6Pk0vgr5feAKe6HnTwBC0tc2VbyOyMkKx6VEo-kNpiYjlgdLcchkfLVWyOZ4CkGwLGGE18GAxD3Dx9g_a4bKr416TnegSPl4HnW-Zf4IqSG_K4ggDQPvw4ZPfy1nMTczs8_k/s1600/2012-07-31+15.48.53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0mBH0uC6Pk0vgr5feAKe6HnTwBC0tc2VbyOyMkKx6VEo-kNpiYjlgdLcchkfLVWyOZ4CkGwLGGE18GAxD3Dx9g_a4bKr416TnegSPl4HnW-Zf4IqSG_K4ggDQPvw4ZPfy1nMTczs8_k/s320/2012-07-31+15.48.53.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Botanical Garden train stop. The platform was abandoned.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuXT1KBoeIvvbd9MLPyfzGzgIdQtanIE9zb2KyL6rFJd0JlGm45jLpQSGcyQ3Emlxnbqyqo49BVp2VBIApBybDZ6FLFhCbt9rg6zFOJ-pSy2Z3-1gk2556llPHAagANLh7lIZ6zRweMBM/s1600/2012-07-31+16.00.54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuXT1KBoeIvvbd9MLPyfzGzgIdQtanIE9zb2KyL6rFJd0JlGm45jLpQSGcyQ3Emlxnbqyqo49BVp2VBIApBybDZ6FLFhCbt9rg6zFOJ-pSy2Z3-1gk2556llPHAagANLh7lIZ6zRweMBM/s320/2012-07-31+16.00.54.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Batumi Botanical Gardens (BBG). The stairs were fantastically straight, all the way up the hill. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTI4eNFMCh0QzMPMGgU6vw0cXa_eBL6ZASEDKyMlJXN8DaRLinU6fFHhoa65_XlfKDiLVSGEg0m3YeQ3JxhmKixlilZlRFsWPxmK6p45Dr7sGmoBv6AYzfcYui9fq3E40BaMcMFPTQOc0/s1600/2012-07-31+16.08.48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTI4eNFMCh0QzMPMGgU6vw0cXa_eBL6ZASEDKyMlJXN8DaRLinU6fFHhoa65_XlfKDiLVSGEg0m3YeQ3JxhmKixlilZlRFsWPxmK6p45Dr7sGmoBv6AYzfcYui9fq3E40BaMcMFPTQOc0/s320/2012-07-31+16.08.48.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neat tree in BBG</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig1c8YwoChcVThp0Uqe_7urbAlTF5BkM3XzEIErY9MMei1g7L4aaRUDTS9VMKtvJdkGrihYXZELFuznv_e_MFYXDjadYF5zcsQW1ICFD0PLlQNsliPFZvaZ1i9CoIAYrgxmNWqUcp02IQ/s1600/2012-07-31+16.17.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig1c8YwoChcVThp0Uqe_7urbAlTF5BkM3XzEIErY9MMei1g7L4aaRUDTS9VMKtvJdkGrihYXZELFuznv_e_MFYXDjadYF5zcsQW1ICFD0PLlQNsliPFZvaZ1i9CoIAYrgxmNWqUcp02IQ/s320/2012-07-31+16.17.55.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite part of the gardens was the greenhouses. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioW_ewpBJyzGoQbgG2ZHQIU-du8VlE5WMcbdBecc9qs_z4Tv44CEed5VX-UMfgzS99KIOiMd947ZXLTPMAEJDprf15QMuWhHFVXGs-b2bnErnLMuCeSD-Jn_Tqubum3Xo3JbzL8qBQSfU/s1600/2012-07-31+16.20.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioW_ewpBJyzGoQbgG2ZHQIU-du8VlE5WMcbdBecc9qs_z4Tv44CEed5VX-UMfgzS99KIOiMd947ZXLTPMAEJDprf15QMuWhHFVXGs-b2bnErnLMuCeSD-Jn_Tqubum3Xo3JbzL8qBQSfU/s320/2012-07-31+16.20.35.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty flower posing, with a onlooker in the background</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL754FWFqMRkVCKYKzSuJP6EboUjRMe4i078rZxEU90rRcX77koLbbd9g7iktqULOIBfbGw9xnkJxEio_72-pv9yIhHwqUBNYVZEwUPg7Q0SbUkmbJF6kOPTfj2LQ1Q6K2h7WIFaQLQ7E/s1600/2012-07-31+16.41.53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL754FWFqMRkVCKYKzSuJP6EboUjRMe4i078rZxEU90rRcX77koLbbd9g7iktqULOIBfbGw9xnkJxEio_72-pv9yIhHwqUBNYVZEwUPg7Q0SbUkmbJF6kOPTfj2LQ1Q6K2h7WIFaQLQ7E/s320/2012-07-31+16.41.53.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amazing view at the BBG. Would you believe it, only an two hours ago, it was pouring rain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Du4dts1w7kyb0xERZpTClQfKcOeH3as6WlvuTkeTAJY0uQlEojN6yJeCoOmrtndutI3tss4pbp9GHORwEurZEsN0A6uSdsfebDJ6yPYb0QgnhiEYsW3DN4Li9zS847Wgv6ky0RAy4jw/s1600/2012-08-01+14.35.56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Du4dts1w7kyb0xERZpTClQfKcOeH3as6WlvuTkeTAJY0uQlEojN6yJeCoOmrtndutI3tss4pbp9GHORwEurZEsN0A6uSdsfebDJ6yPYb0QgnhiEYsW3DN4Li9zS847Wgv6ky0RAy4jw/s320/2012-08-01+14.35.56.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doesn't have much to do with this entry. I just want to show you the quantity of food I'm expected to eat during a meal.</td></tr>
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TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-47543007701163223692012-07-31T21:02:00.000-07:002012-09-28T04:14:46.295-07:00July 24th Black Sea trip, Batumi fun, Mtiarla<br />
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The trip to the Black Sea was with my host sister Shorena
and her friends. We took the Marshutka to Chakvi, a resort town on the coast
two miles from Gorgadzeebi. We met up with my other sister, Khatuna and her
friends. The beaches are much more rocky and gravely than California's sandy
beaches, but the water is so much warmer! You can actually stand to be in it
for as long as you want! The sea water is more saline than the Pacific Ocean, you
can almost float in it. Of course, I had to bring a book, just to spite my
girlfriend's brother Brian who doesn't understand why anyone would read during
vacation. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I met more of Shorena's teenager girlfriends a nearby house.
They were asking me if I was single, and if I had a girlfriend, I felt like an
adonis, or would have, but my stomach was hurting from drinking the water. I
could hardly stand at times; Montezuma's revenge exists, even in Georgia. Its
not that the water is bad, its that the things living in all water are new to
your body. Once exposed, you build a tolerance. Even so, it was miserable, but
how else will one get used to the water?<o:p></o:p></div>
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That evening, we met up with the rest of the family in
Romani's taxi and we drove to Batumi to pick up my host mother Naira.
Afterword's we walked around downtown Batumi, taking some great pictures of the
promenades and fountains, as well as catching a show of a fire-breather. We
were there for approximately an hour or two. Batumi is a resort/vacation town
that is booming during the summer and dormant during the winter. New
skyscrapers and hotels have sprung up in the past few years, yet the old city
remains underneath. The architecture remind me of New Orleans in a way, where
as the new resorts and casinos look and feel like Las Vegas. I need to see more
of this city, go to an opera or see some Georgian dancing, two hours aren't
enough. The transportation in Georgia is much easier, thanks to Marshutkas, so transportation
won't be a problem.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Later on we all went to pick up my host brother, Levani. He
is a sailor who works machinery, and lives in an apartment south of Batumi. On
our way back I was really hurting from the water. Naira commanded us to stop at
a pharmacy and they got some medicine, which cleared things up the next day. My
vigor has returned, thank you Naira!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black sea coast</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Surprise, my camera is waterproof! Its fun to see the look on peoples faces when I first dip the camera in the water.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host sister, Shorena is to my left, To my right is my other sister, khatuna. To the far left is their cousin</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Batumi...or Disneyland?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice place to propose I suppose.</td></tr>
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My teenage students took me to Mtiarla national park, which
was about 7 km east of my village. I originally thought we were walking it. We
walked until we hit a dirt road that wound up through the mountains into the
park. From there we waited until a car large enough to carry us all picked us
up. Hitchhiking is advised against, according to TLG, but a small ride through
the woods close to home among friends couldn't hurt! Interestingly enough, in
the heart of the park is an old village called Chakvistavi, nestled in a small
valley.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My neighbor's family is from this town, as are many more
families living in Gorgadzeebi. I'm curious to hear more about the history of
this region, I have been told once that my village was founded some years ago
because of an Ottoman (Turkish) influence, which had forced mountain
populations to resettle into the foothills, closer to the sea. I'm sure it will
be a good story, and look forward to hearing more about it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At Chakvistavi the four of us went along the river
Chakvistskali through an extremely dense subtropical forest. I have never
experienced that level of humidity! Luckily, it was during a temporary 'dry'
spell, so it didn't rain. Not that rain is a big problem. Unlike California
rain, you don't get cold, just more wet than you were before. On our hike, we
didn't go very far. About a mile up along the river, we came to a picnic area
and a swimming hole. Moss grew along the rocks, and was a challenge to climb up
an embankment along the river, but we all managed to climb up and jump into the
swimming hole. Afterwards we had a huge feast of bread, sausage, tomatoes cucumbers,
wine and beer. We stumbled back to Chakvistavi and rented a tent to sleep in.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My day was over and all I wanted to was sleep, but my
younger companions wanted to goof off all night. Its kind of a recurring
scenario I've noticed. I like to sleep and relax, and my younger companions
want to stay up, or go swimming, or goof off at camp. I suppose its an age
difference. They are all under 18, and have more energy, plus, I'm not used to
drinking so much wine and beer! I probably should have not drank with my future
students, and will be avoid it in the future.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I didn't get to stay there for as long as I wanted to, and I
will surely have to come back. My companions did have the stamina or equipment
to actually go backpacking. I'll have to find myself another TLG volunteer
who'd be willing to stay there a few days, instead of that short amount of
time. The park is staggeringly beautiful, but I didn't get to see much of it.
Oh well, I still have so much more time to explore Georgia, and this park is so
close, it shall be done!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3lsUzigRkhrHIXdheca-u1OfkprBZiYaT6x6U_nVyZBGdjSHcumjKWv3oqFagVoHcFWtwry4oeaM6rnvAefxob4abER_p0s3XiauA_BXe9hzws0zO4brvUuXprabW0vhjC87yQn5ZusM/s1600/2012-07-27+17.17.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3lsUzigRkhrHIXdheca-u1OfkprBZiYaT6x6U_nVyZBGdjSHcumjKWv3oqFagVoHcFWtwry4oeaM6rnvAefxob4abER_p0s3XiauA_BXe9hzws0zO4brvUuXprabW0vhjC87yQn5ZusM/s320/2012-07-27+17.17.58.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mtiarla National Park</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mtiarla National Park</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Behind me is a trail leading to the waterfall...for a later day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNVpXY0kdiiHHL0L6gJ2rYS_QXTJxXxlpWnBNXzJRhBXF3jOgm3CA3Br15zwHWiXeUolpjmE5h2ETBRQjIM5b3FYvBLX4MEBi6-el3Jihy3XWYW_6NwQCJs_EGY5vqkdt8qnWndewsTs/s1600/2012-07-27+17.44.36-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNVpXY0kdiiHHL0L6gJ2rYS_QXTJxXxlpWnBNXzJRhBXF3jOgm3CA3Br15zwHWiXeUolpjmE5h2ETBRQjIM5b3FYvBLX4MEBi6-el3Jihy3XWYW_6NwQCJs_EGY5vqkdt8qnWndewsTs/s320/2012-07-27+17.44.36-1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swimming hole, with a lofty rock to jump off of.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mtiarla National Park</td></tr>
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TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-87973329038282253422012-07-31T11:09:00.000-07:002012-09-28T04:07:47.064-07:00July 23rd-July 27th. Getting acquainted with GorgadzeebiToday I began to explore the village after breakfast. The
roads of Gorgadzeebi are mostly dirt, sometimes there is pavement or remnants
of them. A car's suspension doesn't last long here. I walked north along a
village path, soon running into a pair of women. I could only say
"Gamarjobat" to them. I found out that one of the women is an English
teacher who works in Chakvi, and the other is her mother, Neli. I wandered up
the mountains. Later that day, Neli came by my home with her two grandsons,
Giorgi and Giga. Later that day, I came over to their house and played soccer
with them. They both knew some English, and would frequently say "What
your name?"<br />
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The village has such a warm atmosphere, As I wandered up
into the hillsides I met a family sitting outside their homestead. In broken
English and in broken Georgian, I somehow remembered the phrase "ingliseli
ena mastavlebeli var" or I am an English language teacher, and pointed
back to Gorgadzeebi. Instantly we all understood and they invited me to drink
with them. Reader, the top questions Georgians ask you is: Georgia is good, no?
You like Georgian wine/vodka/chacha? (moonshine derived from grapes, similar to
grappa) What your name?, Where are you from? Are you English or American?
Georgian music/dance/women, you like? Each time you answer any of these questions in
Georgian, their faces light up, and the feeling of being welcomed soon follows.
I am ashamed to say that I did not eat with them, I was a bit shy and didn't
want to feel overwhelmed. Learning a language is a humbling experience. I am a
college graduate, from UCSD, but that means nothing now. Here I have the
vocabulary of a 5 year old and need to be led around by my host family or
villagers. Later on I went back to say hello to that house, and to have a
dinner with them...and three glasses of wine.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Georgian people on a whole are the most hospitable people I
have met. At every house visited, I have had chocolate, candy, ice cream,
fruit, tea, coffee, vodka and wine offered to me as soon as I sit down. I am
not kidding, you do not go hungry here. When I am walking through the village,
I am offered grapes, plums, and hazelnuts, which are everywhere. If I do go
without eating, my own babia brings a half dozen plates out demanding "tchame,
tchame Tariel!" which is the translates to "eat eat, Tyler!"
Yes, there is an equivalent name for Tyler in Georgia, to the delight of
everyone I meet.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I have also met more of the neighborhood boys. One in
particular, Miriani and I are good friends. So far he has introduced me to
dozens of houses and people all over the village. My days are usually spent
hanging out with Miriani and his friends, doing small chores (I'm not allowed
to help, just watch) going to the local river, or playing soccer. We are also
going to go to the national park on Saturday and Sunday with a few other
teenagers and Pridon, the school director. I am so excited! Adjara is beautiful
in the costal foothills, but I really am curious to see some wilderness, not to
mention cloud forest! The mountains east of Gorgadzeebi have been constantly
covered in clouds since I've arrived here. I've never been backpacking in a subtropical rainforest before stay tuned for
some awesome photos. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Hanging out by the river is one of the best pastimes in
Gorgadzeebi. It is hot here, and humid! The water though, is nice and cool.
There is a swimming hole people converge on, where everyone swims, gossips, ask
the American teacher questions. We also played a game of volleyball. I noticed
the way people play sports here is much less competitive. It may be attributed
to the small town atmosphere, but the volleyball game was more about keeping
the ball active, and including everyone. I'm convinced that it is due to being
in a small community. These people have been living together for generations,
and will be continuing to live with each other for generations. Being nice is
much more than being polite, it is essential for living in a small community. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This first week was a blast, in sum, Gorgadzeebi is perfect
for me, and I am having an awesome time. There is lots to do, and I even have
to slow down from time to time and study some Georgian or write home.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFv91o9kzbpjwSP3dyNgXbQObnYW8LTY_miCTZWLo-tlaKP-StpVA80oMqpZwirAqQ7w35xZL04bcUC-fe77LnT0I0JkI0_lVSnifEg7hFS7pN4QsFzGnwIp-Ko_qgIKHDZ5lyXS0Xpk/s1600/2012-07-22+10.38.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFv91o9kzbpjwSP3dyNgXbQObnYW8LTY_miCTZWLo-tlaKP-StpVA80oMqpZwirAqQ7w35xZL04bcUC-fe77LnT0I0JkI0_lVSnifEg7hFS7pN4QsFzGnwIp-Ko_qgIKHDZ5lyXS0Xpk/s320/2012-07-22+10.38.35.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roads of Gorgadzeebi, you can see the dog at the end of the road. Also a part of Gorgadzeebi.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBzSfTkvCTmmjwKhJEr0EeOY9q4OtjWBmGEr07L0BjpRmGwPrIeiVIDiH_CpDpGFitztBq7deJNBgL5fbGY2oydOgwYGUiBmvCWX2jL7sEhO120q3OcJ5fn9qLCl5o6FPM7P9bTUa-xQQ/s1600/2012-07-30+18.59.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBzSfTkvCTmmjwKhJEr0EeOY9q4OtjWBmGEr07L0BjpRmGwPrIeiVIDiH_CpDpGFitztBq7deJNBgL5fbGY2oydOgwYGUiBmvCWX2jL7sEhO120q3OcJ5fn9qLCl5o6FPM7P9bTUa-xQQ/s320/2012-07-30+18.59.45.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I went back to that house that invited me to eat with them a few weeks later. They were having another feast and I was obliged to drink three glasses of wine. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7xf9Ugzo1k1hF1zYK5G5ziMNMZgM9F2OTJTAYgaxRF4Wv4YLVll60DX_oy4K7zEBgm98ci_qRNHPdeLKLZCrpAcFTXzmZDzMMwWEQl3kKPNIl4snNJddTXv-U8PIECAQ1iVolSvdWxk/s1600/2012-07-24+20.36.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7xf9Ugzo1k1hF1zYK5G5ziMNMZgM9F2OTJTAYgaxRF4Wv4YLVll60DX_oy4K7zEBgm98ci_qRNHPdeLKLZCrpAcFTXzmZDzMMwWEQl3kKPNIl4snNJddTXv-U8PIECAQ1iVolSvdWxk/s320/2012-07-24+20.36.47.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miriani with the volleyball at the river.</td></tr>
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TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-2474254778962731232012-07-30T01:36:00.002-07:002012-09-28T04:06:26.340-07:00Sunday July 22nd. Journey to Gorgadzeebi<br />
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I write this message on Wednesday. So much has happened
these past few days, I can compare it to when I first moved to Lincoln, or when
I moved to San Diego, or when I went on vacation in Europe and the Caribbean.
So much action, I must take constant notes, and everything is important enough
to write down. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The person who met me at our hotel was our schools director,
Pridon (like freedom.) Pridon does not speak English, but that didn't stop him
from telling me his hopes and aspirations for him, the school and Gorgadzeebi.
He was accompanied by a man named mahmood, who translated for Pridon (Pridoni
hopes to teach me Georgian and I teach him English) as well as a man with the Georgian
name for Alexander (Zandari) Mahmood and Zandari dropped Pridon and I off at
the Marshutka station. My belongings were shoved in the Marshutka and we took
off out of Tbilisi. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Let me just say that the driving in Georgia isn't bad, its nerve-wracking.
People often take too many chances on the road. Although there are rarely and
collisions, there are plenty of close calls. I keep telling myself we aren't
driving fast, so any head on collisions will only result in a exchange of verbal
insults and rude hand gestures. The lanes on Georgian roads are more of an
implication, rather than a designated area. This includes the lane with
incoming traffic! The roads are two lanes officially, but they make them wide
enough for three cars to pass abreast, which we did frequently, to my dismay.
We poor souls in this minibus, who are cramped together, some of which haven't
bathed in days, pray for a breeze to pass through the bus (air conditioning is
a luxury), such is the price for a 12 lari ticket. I try to console myself of
the stark fact of there being no seat belts by thinking "Not only are we traveling
slow, but I'm surrounded by soft flesh, if we crash, it will like being tossed
about in a pillowed room, we don't need to stinking seatbelts!" I am
grasping for optimism, I know but its better than having a nervous breakdown,
or worse, getting out and refusing to go to Adjara entirely. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We traveled through fertile valleys marked with small towns
and hamlets. The mountains surrounding us on both sides were covered with thick
trees. The weather was unseasonably cool, to our luck until we passed through
the mountains into the next valley. The mountains themselves are stunningly
beautiful. Different than the Sierra Nevada, the mountains here are covered by
green, dense woods. The Marshutka would stop often (every hour or two) for a
smoking/bathroom/meal. Pridon and I said little. I was too shy to say anything
at this time, luckily Tara, another volunteer was on the bus with me, so we
didn't spend the entire time in silence. Our final smoking stop was in Kutaisi,
situated in the valley, surrounded by beautiful mountains. At the time, Kutaisi
was ungodly hot, humid and windy. As we neared the Black sea coast the humidity
increased from San Diego Bay to Costa Rican Rainforest levels. By now I'm used
to the smell, the cramped conditions and the hot sticky air; after all, I'm an
American, and we breed tough individuals who can handle extremes. The black sea
coast is rich in produce and greenery. Farmland, fields, floodplains, estuaries
and bays dot the landscape. As we came closer to Batumi, the city in the southern
part of Adjara, the coast revealed itself through campsites and resort hotels. The
resort town of Kobuleti is where Tara was dropped off.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Pridon and I were dropped off at a coastal town called Chakvi,
where we were picked up by my host father, Romani. Romani owns a car, he is a
taxi driver. We drove east into the mountains/foothills where Gorgadzeebi lies.
From Google maps, Gorgadzeebi looks like a cluster of homes in green fields
scarred by dirt roads, along a river which is an absurd perception when you
actually see it. The village is a jumble of square houses on a steep mountain,
the river is hundreds of feet below from where I am staying. The square houses
are actually made of cement blocks, each one is a unique piece of archecture.
Some are in ruins, occupied only by cattle, trees and gardens. Some are quite
nice, covered in plaster and painted in white or cream colors. Most are a mix
of the two. Reader be aware, I am not in a poor country, but in a diverse and
rich land where flora actually flows out of the ground, without the assistance of
its citizens. Gorgadzeebi and the surrounding villages are an amazing site to
behold, I can compare it only to a rainforest like the ones I have seen outside
San Jose, Costa Rica. By the time we reached Romani's home (after dropping of
Pridoni) It was evening. I couldn't see much but I could hear hundreds of birds
calling. Again, imagine rainforest. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Here I met Romani's daughter (da) Shorena, who knows a lot
of English, as well as her grandmother (babia), who is perhaps of the sweetest
person I've ever met. Soon after eating a meal of Khachapuri (cheesebread),
cucumbers, berry juice, tea, etc I went to bed. My room is on the second floor
of the house, where I was soon fast asleep. Situated on the hillside, my host
family's home has a commanding view of the valley, and far away Batumi, cooler
airs stir through my room through an open window, and flows through the open
doors into the balcony. Although Gorgadzeebi is very humid, and reaches
temperature of 30C and up, my room is always cool. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Well that is about it. I didn't expect to write so much, but
as I said earlier, so much is going on, and I can't spare you the juicy
details, dear reader. Stay stalwart, I will start posting shorter entries. Now, some more pictures<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUN8ZgVFEFoN-XDskLP_TvdWn0bPb82C_6QI0V2dNJvIlA_Gl3fA3fvk4TdQai0vYukhKM42D9uSmLI17F9gR1O-MQpx3o6eN91P1iHpt7p5_xPF29-eoej7VLKhfRCZy82bKbiGzuYKE/s1600/2012-07-21+21.37.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUN8ZgVFEFoN-XDskLP_TvdWn0bPb82C_6QI0V2dNJvIlA_Gl3fA3fvk4TdQai0vYukhKM42D9uSmLI17F9gR1O-MQpx3o6eN91P1iHpt7p5_xPF29-eoej7VLKhfRCZy82bKbiGzuYKE/s320/2012-07-21+21.37.31.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coti the cat. This ball of shadow with eyes and claws has helped me in my second stage of culture shock.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWh0uGNuLv1phWbObz7EHyGtYD9ogVa-y157Gd8q0R2ZFZnQTV1E7pqUZYqSL6kN5JcZNgEJae6-jOrpx5b-xM81vrFyyAJ8I4crZNPe6r3PGT7Vkgx507bTX0n2vqsUxBkMDXA4AKPYY/s1600/2012-07-21+21.39.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWh0uGNuLv1phWbObz7EHyGtYD9ogVa-y157Gd8q0R2ZFZnQTV1E7pqUZYqSL6kN5JcZNgEJae6-jOrpx5b-xM81vrFyyAJ8I4crZNPe6r3PGT7Vkgx507bTX0n2vqsUxBkMDXA4AKPYY/s320/2012-07-21+21.39.21.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My House, perched on a mountain side</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwJAPSjSIshPV4wEMy_YPpVTDcsYClt80LEwkyfmLq4k1lkffv09uVvm9r8omwNRpI5y7pZEZSilXE5dHofEnUhyIeQQ1WDHVJG5ls3THMK6HWiV_g6Fp3fBzHTf_F3BhUkvT412g0bk/s1600/2012-07-22+09.45.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwJAPSjSIshPV4wEMy_YPpVTDcsYClt80LEwkyfmLq4k1lkffv09uVvm9r8omwNRpI5y7pZEZSilXE5dHofEnUhyIeQQ1WDHVJG5ls3THMK6HWiV_g6Fp3fBzHTf_F3BhUkvT412g0bk/s320/2012-07-22+09.45.36.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty nice view of my neighborhood.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcBACvjPkT6oHY9RBTPB0GSIX21JF3GYk4p-nYI3c3HsTSKRsTrtCOxqlzInU641NknAMNac5LoGK0R1jqoH2M5w6jnTxVuZ4CK82ai_wUMaSEOLPntWs2DimmxSfh9jhQj-tKE8ZQBw/s1600/2012-07-23+21.26.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcBACvjPkT6oHY9RBTPB0GSIX21JF3GYk4p-nYI3c3HsTSKRsTrtCOxqlzInU641NknAMNac5LoGK0R1jqoH2M5w6jnTxVuZ4CK82ai_wUMaSEOLPntWs2DimmxSfh9jhQj-tKE8ZQBw/s320/2012-07-23+21.26.34.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host sister Shorena (to my right) and cousin near the Black Sea</td></tr>
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TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405997663023701901.post-25417230913311206692012-07-21T23:48:00.002-07:002012-09-28T04:05:08.143-07:00Flying to, Training in and exploring Tbilisi<br />
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First off, welcome to my blog. I am a volunteer residing in
the Republic of Georgia. The program which I am involved in is called TLG (Teach
and Learn with Georgia) which is a program geared towards teaching English in primary
and secondary schools. In 2010, the government of Georgia started the program, to forge closer ties with the Western world, as opposed to Russia in Georgia's Soviet past. This blog is just my experience of
the program and of the country, I hope you enjoy it! <o:p></o:p></div>
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July 15th. The flight.<br />
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My flight from LA to Istanbul was going smoothly. The two
people I sat with were friendly. One neighbor was a Mexican lady going to
volunteer in Nirobi but when I asked her what country Nirobi was in she told me
"Africa". Shouldn't you know which country (Kenya) you are
volunteering before you get on the plane? The other neighbor was a Turkish man
about my age who was going home after a month of learning English at Berkley.
What I liked most about them was they were not babies, and that the back of my
airline was very quite. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When we were flying over the great lakes, a doctor was requested
several times by the pilot. A child with epilepsy had a seizure on board, so we
had to land. The captain announced that we were to land in Winnipeg, about an
hour ride back from where we came. After landing in Winnipeg, the plane
remained in on the tarmac...for two hours. We weren't allowed to leave the
cabin. Many of the passengers had layovers in Istanbul, and already our flight
was three hours behind schedule. I was convinced that my flight wouldn't leave
with out me, since my layover was much later than three hours.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When we landed, my companions had already missed their
flight and my flight was boarding. A brusque goodbye and good luck to them and
a couple minutes later, I found myself shoving and pushing people out of the
way (as politely as I could) as I scrambled for my final plane to Tibilisi. In
a Ferris Bueler-like fashion (the one when he is racing home across the
neighborhood before his family gets home), I landed in my seat before the plane
took off. Unbeknownst to me, my bags were not in any hurry, and they had
decided to stay in Istanbul...ugh.<o:p></o:p></div>
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July 16th till the 21st. Training.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The training we are going through is very relaxed. It starts
at around 9 and ends at 6, but with frequent coffee breaks and an hour for
lunch. Its nice to learn what about Georgia and the public schools. Coming to
Georgia is a leap into the unknown, and the training is gives a refined
description of what we are getting involved with. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I especially enjoy to hear stories of past volunteers, specifically,
the stories pertaining to the first volunteers. They are the pioneers that had
to undergo the troubles, TLG is constantly evolving and the first volunteers
had the roughest time. The program was much smaller, the early volunteers did
not have the support staff that we had. Some of them were placed in very
isolated locations. One volunteer in particular was sent to Ushguli, one of the
most isolated places in Georgia. Located in the mountains, the village usually
gets snowed in for months at a time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Aside from fighting off jetlag, training is pleasant. I just
slept for about 12 hours today, so hopefully I don't have any more trouble with
nodding off in language class, which is my favorite. Or teacher Neli is so
animated, and the material is especially helpful for me, since I decided on
going way back in March. I understand the alphabet, so I can focus on grammar,
pronunciation and word recognition. Some of the volunteers didn't decide until
about a month before leaving and were lost for large swaths of the lecture! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Learning Georgian (or Kartuli) is easier when your immersed
in it. I'm able to hear many words when I eavesdrop on people in the street. It's
much easier to listen for than Spanish, because people don't speak so quickly.
In pronunciation, consonant clusters are lumped together, for example, I have
"mkavs" is one syllable.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The best part of the day is going out to the old part of
town afterwards, There is nice atmosphere of Tbilisians, old and young, just
hanging out. The old town is about a half an hours walk from the hotel, where
one must j-walk frequently. A goal of mine is to get a j-walking ticket, that
way I know it did it right! Luckily, a few days ago I got honked at, so I guess
I'm getting better at it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The driving here is bad, as expected. But it wasn't as bad
as the drivers in Italy. We didn't encounter any cars on sidewalks, or any excessive
tailgating. Drivers <i>do</i> like to use their
horns frequently, as a tell-all phrase. The volunteers and I got our first dose
of the driving when we were taken through Tbilisi for the medical checkup. We were
able to see good sections to explore on foot. Another thing we all saw is the
massive amount of "hanging out" the men like to do. The city, filled
with men, young and old alike in the streets, day and night. <o:p></o:p></div>
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On Thursday we all found out about where we are staying, and
some information about our host families! After grumbling and wondering all
this time, I found out I am living in a village called Gorgadzeebi in the
Adjara region. Adjara is the south westernmost Provence. Stay tuned for more
information on the host family when I get there! Most of us are stationed along
the western part of Georgia, so going out and visiting everyone is on the
schedule! We all don't have any work to do until September, so we are all thinking
of ways to spend the money we are being paid.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Friday is the day when older volunteers come and share their
experiences. One volunteer, Andrew is living in Tbilisi and has two host
families. He is currently teaching police and security. Reggie, who is from the
Philippines is living in a village forty minutes from Kutaisi. His family
doesn't drink any alcohol at all. They are very protective over Reggie and
whenever he visits neighbors or goes to a supra (a feast in essence) , everyone
knows not to pass him any drinks. He says it's important to set expectations
early on, otherwise be prepared to enjoy drinks only when you are out of your
town/village! Jason was a little bit older and gave some very good advice on
lesson planning. Its best to stay flexible and don't expect too much progress.<o:p></o:p></div>
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For the most part, our group follows the curfews and doesn't
drink at all, until we talked to the older volunteers whom had spoken. By
Friday, a group of eight people in training were confident enough to hail a cab
to Freedom Square and meet up with other TLG volunteers whom had come a month
ago. Like us, they have no work over the summer and are left to their own
devices. Either they stay with their host family, or they travel around
Georgia. They told us about their host families and how different they are from
the Georgian stereotype. The gist of the lesson is don't expect to know what
they will be like. Georgians are just as varied as anyone else. One family was
considered "Gruff" which I think could mean rugged. The volunteers
host family lets him wander and isn't very protective. Crystal-day has a host
mother whom is two years older than her. <o:p></o:p></div>
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On our final day of training, we went to the bazaar!
Georgian bazaars are similar to any of the other open air markets. Although
haggling is an important part of the Bazaar, don't expect a huge drop in price,
twenty percent to thirty percent off is considered generous. The highlight of
my day was spent walking the crowded, cracked and oftentimes muddy streets
looking at the goods on sale. The market was broken up into sections. The front
being the high end clothing and jewelry, which was in an air-conditioned room,
similar to a shopping mall. Behind the mall was where the cheap clothing was. I
ended bought a pair of capri shorts, since its a bit taboo to wear them in the
states (Wouldn't it be great to live in a world that allows men to wear them?)</div>
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I also bought some stickers behind the clothing section and food sections of
the bazaar. They are for the children I will be teaching at my school. Influenced
by my animal-training girlfriend, I want to be a strict teacher, but will
reward good behavior with prizes. It is forbidden for volunteers to discipline
students, so I have to influence, instead of enforce. </div>
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Regardless of what I bought, I can't haggle, or even count past
ten, so I paid full price for everything, spending a total of 21 lari. Its was
a bit daunting to initiate any speaking because they would speak so fast, and
sometimes in Russian (the language of foreigners) making what little Georgian I
knew useless. Asking prices is "ra ghame?" for those who are curious.
I would take pictures of some stalls after asking "tu shedzleba?"
which is the Georgian for "If it is possible?". Unfortunately, I
never took a picture of the cobblers section of the bazaar, which was my
favorite part. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So now I write this long post in the hotel eating area,
avoiding to pack. Were meeting our host families today at 12:30 and are in for
a long journey in marshutkas (minibuses), trains or cars. Sorry for the long
post, a lot of things happened this past week, I plan on making the rest of the
blogs shorter! Kargaaad! (bye!)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrIsj-kCXNROGubPrfU0b6WzMYfV9etQ37khChS8jLo41b8dm5g1JmGMmx5pQoU_BJmqYmo3_mBp7FTjgojvE8mloI9towLVonbWevM-fkvIIQpOm47inYf4Wxz8pWYLh5j_7falL-Js/s1600/2012-07-15+14.54.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrIsj-kCXNROGubPrfU0b6WzMYfV9etQ37khChS8jLo41b8dm5g1JmGMmx5pQoU_BJmqYmo3_mBp7FTjgojvE8mloI9towLVonbWevM-fkvIIQpOm47inYf4Wxz8pWYLh5j_7falL-Js/s320/2012-07-15+14.54.41.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">River by our hotel. Fisherman line the bridges casting nets on fishing rods. Haven't seen what they've been pulling out yet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJk7m2JVWgGt20kRdrbB1EU_x0rMVDRf9CSo0Hq-iWEENErUA8e188_qX_TV_V1gTqPzWCeo6lTNxPwxTP0QRO3PKLRekw8VKJyD62uycPomIN7mkkV8Gt4IxbVaDQ3A4mTWBN1VI0s9Y/s1600/2012-07-16+21.40.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJk7m2JVWgGt20kRdrbB1EU_x0rMVDRf9CSo0Hq-iWEENErUA8e188_qX_TV_V1gTqPzWCeo6lTNxPwxTP0QRO3PKLRekw8VKJyD62uycPomIN7mkkV8Gt4IxbVaDQ3A4mTWBN1VI0s9Y/s320/2012-07-16+21.40.04.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a square with a fountain, where the locals hang out at. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFXnzEFfPTUsW5nZdqTXW4jFkE-KxO3EpsklhNkKudnW6tIfoZ9QMIg26p1SeZxZpNaJwe-KpbIKRc_ya1lT7AbzS-Y9mhcc7K0Ek_Z2YIbq7j-odEpOn79wquXBOWeasa_bgrjI5dPKw/s1600/2012-07-20+15.15.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFXnzEFfPTUsW5nZdqTXW4jFkE-KxO3EpsklhNkKudnW6tIfoZ9QMIg26p1SeZxZpNaJwe-KpbIKRc_ya1lT7AbzS-Y9mhcc7K0Ek_Z2YIbq7j-odEpOn79wquXBOWeasa_bgrjI5dPKw/s320/2012-07-20+15.15.55.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet sweet meat...The lady running the stand smiled and shyed away when I pulled out my camera.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWNtdgUJXgBoji8BW1hyphenhyphenALTs_0k3WaQdZL_aiySarY5K20Epg5DD2eqRPjrL1ixggy39DL59UJHP8jaeHT9GNDynDOosyO9F58BhoaUUxvqwn6Mwoo5j_S3Nlreld8ima0jEzlIQSw3U/s1600/2012-07-20+15.25.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWNtdgUJXgBoji8BW1hyphenhyphenALTs_0k3WaQdZL_aiySarY5K20Epg5DD2eqRPjrL1ixggy39DL59UJHP8jaeHT9GNDynDOosyO9F58BhoaUUxvqwn6Mwoo5j_S3Nlreld8ima0jEzlIQSw3U/s320/2012-07-20+15.25.32.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loads of spices, no tobasco or jalapenos though.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinb4Bx2i0tE52tj2VKrRfDZlTX1JaCGwneC61XB30rtn7d8OuTUFb_euVREVKGKo-RkT1ZLZX0xwn69TSFVhkXfP4wABTGgK-fNn1pCcH0BsiyEZuTVJyCCgl8d_PhC6zwDkqik1FeAP4/s1600/2012-07-20+15.14.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinb4Bx2i0tE52tj2VKrRfDZlTX1JaCGwneC61XB30rtn7d8OuTUFb_euVREVKGKo-RkT1ZLZX0xwn69TSFVhkXfP4wABTGgK-fNn1pCcH0BsiyEZuTVJyCCgl8d_PhC6zwDkqik1FeAP4/s320/2012-07-20+15.14.44.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The proud owner was happy to show off his trout.</td></tr>
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TyRyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03371969366869511091noreply@blogger.com0