The Day We Hiked Among the Clouds

The Thursday after I started at the organization, it had a birthday. To celebrate, the whole office closed, we piled on a marshutka, and we drove a few hours north into the mountains to a place called Kazbegi. Kazbegi is the home to Mount Kazbeg and a mountaintop monastery named Gergeti. Every time I researched Georgia, I saw pictures of this place. It’s world famous and for good reason. It was quite a hike to get there, but when I got there, I was breathless for a different reason.

My words can’t do justice to how beautiful this place is. We were so high in the mountains that we were literally in the clouds. We could see them below and as the wind passed, it would obscure the church for a minute or two. The church was built right at the peak of a mountain among the mountains. I was blown away (not literally, even though it was windy), and I never wanted to leave. This place made its way into heart and my list of most beautiful places I’ve ever been (on that list includes Guilin, China and Havasupai, Arizona.) Since my words fail me, I took lots of pictures. Look at them instead.

360 Degree Pano

Afterwards, in proper Georgian tradition, we feasted. There was mtsvadi (Georgian barbequed meat), khinkali, salads, watermelon, and even s’mores! No Georgian supra is complete without toasts and laughter. We even danced. This was a wonderful way to get to know my coworkers better and experience the incredible beauty of the Caucuses. 

The Day I Started as an Official PCV

We swore in on Friday and then started at our organizations on Monday. I was so lucky in my assignment – the organization For Better Future. My counterpart is Nana – an incredibly active and tenderhearted woman who is involved with basically anything that happens here in Tserovani. She’s also a bit of a foodie, speaks English well, and has even been to Utah. (Which is incredible, because most Georgians just give me blank look when I say I’m from Utah.) There’s also Eka, who just graduated college and she’ll be helping with our social enterprises. One of them is an enamel jewelry making business. We have three full time artisans (Matsi, Tiko, and Tako) who make beautiful rings, pendants, earrings, and cufflinks. It’s so cool to watch them work. Our other enterprise is a café here in the settlement. It’s brand new and just getting started, so I’m excited to help with the progress there. We also have other projects with other settlements. We have the Bookmobile, which is an American Corner library that rotates around the four settlements in the area. Another project that is starting this fall is for youth civics clubs. I’ll write about each project specifically in their own blog post, because they deserve their own.

The organization is busy and full of amazing people. I’m so excited to be working here and I know it will be an amazing experience. Two years is going to fly by!

The day we swore...in

They day finally came. We had passed our language exams, proved ourselves capable in our technical trainings, and cramped our hands filling out paperwork. We were officially ready to become official Peace Corps Volunteers. The day started early with leaving our PST Host Families. It was an emotional moment. It was hard to say goodbye to these wonderful people who had introduced us to Georgia and been patient enough to take care of us until we had mastered simple phrases like “I need to go to the bathroom” and “I really can’t eat any more of your delicious food.” But luckily we can still go back and visit while we’re here.

As a G15 group, we traveled together to Tbilisi, loaded with anticipation and all of our physical belongings. We got all dressed up and after a rehearsal, welcomed the U.S. Ambassador to Georgia, old host families, new host families, and future counterparts for our swearing-in ceremony.

In a small choir, I sang the Georgian and American National Anthems. We definitely did better on the American one, but they still applauded us for effort on the Georgian one. There were speeches and cameras and pomp and circumstance. It was a very special moment as our names were read, then the Ambassador had us raise our right hands and swear-in as official Volunteers.

After a reception and cake, we all headed our separate ways to start what we came here to do. As our group has said at every big milestone, “it just got real”.  Congrats and good luck to all my fellow G15s!

The day we partied like it was 1777

July rolled around and that means hot weather and American Independence Day. We may be in the good ol’ US of A, but we are a sizeable group of Americans, so of course we’re going to find a way to party. Luckily it was a Saturday, so PC gave us a break from Saturday classes and told us to bring our host families to a barbeque. It’s not 4^th of July without hamburgers and hotdogs.

The party had been in the works for about a month, and it was quite the event. It really felt like home for a while.  There was watermelon, potato salad, and we (the Ruisi cluster) even tried to make a cherry pie. (It turned out alright, but it was quite the ordeal. Basically I didn’t know where to get some of the ingredients or a pie tin, but we made it work, not without a frantic call home to my mom.  One day I’ll be able to cook properly without her. Not yet though.)

There was face painting and tug of war and all sorts of shenanigans. I’m glad we got to bring our host families, it was fun to host them for a while and be able to share our culture, since they have been so giving of theirs.

Happy Birthday, America! 

The day like all the others

Even if it is seemingly uneventful, I want to document a normal day of PST.  It may not be exciting or grand, but it’s this slice of life in the sopeli that gives the truest taste of Georgian living.

I wake up in the morning feeling like P.Diddy. JK. I’m sorry I made a Ke$ha reference circa 2010. I only feel like P Diddy if when he wakes up he has to psych himself up to walk to the outhouse first thing. And then he gets ready and goes to school in the neighbor’s marshutka with all the other neighbor children and Fellow Trainee Kyle.

The mornings pass in a blur of poorly pronounced Georgian and fierce competitions for the colorful paper stars that will determine one of us superior.  Maybe I should explain what “us” is: we call ourselves the Ruisi Cluster. We do so because the Peace Corps called us that and we do everything as they say. We are six brave Americans on a quest to advance world peace and friendship. We have assembled from all parts of the continental United States and Guam. JK. I wish one of us was from Guam. I’ve never actually met anyone from there.

I tried to sneak a picture. Obviously I wasn't that sneaky.

Anyway, we study beginner Georgian for four hours a day from our LCF (Language and Cultural Facilitator), Maka. Maka is a wonderful Georgian human who not only schools us in all things Georgian, she actually seems to like us. She has more patience and composure than you know. After class, we have lunch together at one of our host family’s houses. This is the real reason any of us wake up in the morning. Georgians know how to host a dinner party, I’ll tell you what.

Just as my tea gets cool enough to drink, Maka gets a suspicious call from an unknown number: “The marshutka has left Tiniskhidi.” We all know what that means. An unmarked van is about to pick us up and deliver us to Kareli. Actually, it usually has a sign that says PST. But they may be agents, because I never seem to be able to drink all my chai, I think they have us bugged or something. The rides to Kareli are shared with the Tiniskhidi cluster, and even though we are all fighting off the post-meal exhaustion, the marshutka is usually full of talking and the occasional outburst of song. Good times are had by all.

In Kareli, we have our Technical Specific trainings.  These are to help us be the best Individual and Organizational development volunteers we can be. We learned about how to plan and implement projects and trainings, as well as other Georgian-organization specific information. We only have 20 IOD volunteers, so we are a close knit little group. It’s good fun.

Basically we are at trainings until the cows come home. Literally. We usually have to share the road with at least the cows, if not other livestock. Makes for some smelly traffic jams. 

About the time we are waiting for the cattle to clear, one of us looks to the others and says: “ნაყინი დღო?” (Ice cream time?), to which the answer is invariably yes. We then convene the “AmerikeliBirzha”, a title we have appropriated from the groups of men that gather in the streets in the evenings. Many times they drink, but we have our ice cream. We all have our vices.

And then we go home to our respective houses. We usually have homework due the next day. If it’s Monday, I’ll watch Georgian X Factor with Nazi and Rezo. Other nights we eat dinner and hang out with the neighbors. Life is good in the sopeli.  

The Day I Made Khinkali

One typical evening in Ruisi, seven o’clock rolled around and my hungry alarms were going off. Luckly it seemed that my host family’s were too, as they looked to each other and asked: “What should we eat tonight?” After some discussion, it was decided that tonight would be our khinkali night.

In the most basic way, khinkali is the Georgian version of dumplings. But that fails to fully describe the beauty. They are delicious little pockets of juicy goodness, complete with a little dough knob that serves as both a handle and a way to number your conquests. Behold:

The process of making khinkali is not for the faint of heart. First you have to make the filling. Typically, this is  a mix of ground meat and various spices: we used fresh cilantro, coriander, peppers, and of course, salt.

Then you have to make the dough and work it till it’s though enough to hold in its tasty contents. The dough is then rolled out into Fruit Roll-Up sized circles

Next you get to put it all together. A heaping spoonful of meat mixture goes into one dough circle, and then you fold. The folding is a work of art. The best of the khinkali makers can get 18+ folds on one khinkali. I am not a professional, but I’m good enough to make sure that all the filling doesn’t get out. I’ve got my priorities. Nino and Nazi even taught me a fancy way to make them look like fish. It’s adorable and delicious!

After you’ve made a heaping pile of khinkalis, you’re ready to boil.

And in 7-9 minutes, they’re done! That is, 7-9 minutes in the water. At this point it had been nearly three hours and we were all starving. But luckily it was time to eat ourselves silly. The act of eating khinkali is one of the best parts. It’s so fun. You get a whole pile placed on the table, they get covered in pepper, and then it’s a frenzy.

At least, it’s a very organized frenzy, because there are some very specific rules about how you eat khinkali:

·         No forks allowed. You grab that khinkali by the nob and nom nomnom, but

·         Don’t drop any of the juice. It would be an offense to the cook. You take a bite, and then sip it like a gentleman/woman. (You can choose if you want pinkies out, that’s flexible.)

·         Don’t slurp it. This isn’t 7/11. (Can someone please send me a Slurpee though? That sounds amazing right now.)

·         Don’t eat the nobs. They’re not usually cooked all the way through, plus you want to pile them up and prove you can eat more than Giorgi over there.

There you go, now you and I are both khinkali experts! See you at the next supra!