Wait Til You See My Smile

Mid-April has found me in a strange place. After being in Georgia for 10 months now, I’m halfway between “I’m used to things and I like it” and “There are still certain things that drive me INSANE” when it comes to Georgia.

And at the moment, I wasn’t thinking about the fact that “sanitary” is non-existent, and my former germ-a-phobe has withered away and died in so many ways. Hair in the food? Unwashed hands and then food preparation? Hacking coughs and phlegm in people’s faces? Oh yeah, all cool. Sure.

When my fellow G9s and I first arrived, every other thing was different, weird, funny, or foreign. We referred to moments that we just did NOT understand as “living in the twilight zone,” which would lead to texts, phone calls, or comments along the lines of “I’m twilight zoning right now.”

Obviously, living “in the field” this long means that certain things no longer seem strange—they are simply a part of life. I can’t wait for my visitors to arrive so I can re-live the oddness.

HOWEVER, on some occasions, the old feeling comes back, and I find myself asking, WHAT IS GOING ON HERE. THIS CANNOT BE REAL LIFE.

For example, last night, against my wishes, I was taken to the neighbor’s house to eat dinner. Now, in the US, I was not what I would consider a creature of habit. If anything, I was the opposite. But here in Georgia, my village altar ego gets annoyed when my routine is disturbed, particularly when it involves seeing the neighbors without a choice, who make gross food and whose wine is not delicious like my own family’s.

Now. It is a well-known fact that I like meat. It’s not that I have anything against vegetarian food (ok, I kind of just don’t like vegetarian food), but seriously, I want meat in my dinner. Now, I realize back at home you can make whatever French-delicious-light-frappe-bougie deliciousness you want. I am TOTALLY going to go full throttle when I get back home. I’m not judging you. But here it’s not like that.

So imagine my reaction when I was informed that the little fried meat cutlets on the table were purchased from a large city south of Tbilisi and made of…SOY. GROSS. The only thing worse than US soy is soy somehow purchased and acquired in Georgia. Now before I get any hipsters (lots of my friends are vegetarians/were vegans for about a week) decrying my decision to diss Georgian soy, you have to realize that Georgians do not CARE about “healthy” food. The main ingredients in Georgian food: Massive amounts of oil and salt and carbs. FACT. So, why buy soy? They bought fake meat because it was cheap.

How do I know this? Because despite the fact that they made that very point (“It’s so cheap!” Please Host Mom do not get any ideas), it was sitting on the table next to a plate full of salted, uncooked pig fat. JUST PIG FAT. And when I said, “No thank you, I don’t want that because I don’t like it,” the response of course was, “But it’s delicious and it’s VERY SALTY.” No. Just No.

So when I also rejected the mashed up walnut soup mess that everyone besides me seems to love, I was left with fried potatoes and SOY fried meat cutlets for dinner, in addition to the second-rate wine I was being chided by the neighbor man for not drinking enough of after every toast. And then the neighbor girl came out to show me her paper napkin collection. Now, I’m not one to hate on someone’s napkin collection. It’s not like they can go on down to the strip mall TJ Maxx and purchase lots of cool/pretty napkins. It’s the fact that this 11-year-old girl then plugged in a clothes iron and proceeded to IRON THE PAPER NAPKINS. All 50 of them. Where…am…I?

And I had my first animal attack in Georgia today. If you’re thinking, “It must have been a dog!” You are thinking incorrectly. It was a rooster! That came out of nowhere! By the time I realized the sucker had pecked me, with my leg smarting, the stupid thing had scuttled away. That’s right, it SCUTTLED. He is now my arch nemesis. I will kick him if I see him and probably end up eating it at some point. WE’LL SEE WHO HAS THE LAST CROW.

And my last little rant about something that really annoys me. Georgian people (particularly those that live in villages) are obsessed with people who are different. Predominantly, this means gay people, transsexuals, and African Americans. That means that my host mom always feels the need to talk about/let me know incessantly that gays are funny! And my host grandson who lives in Tbilisi is saying, “WHERE IS YOUR BLACK FRIEND?”

So many guys on TV dressing up like women for comedy shows! Look Lauren, that is a MAN. Dressed as a WOMAN. (Obviously that is a man, I’m not blind/stupid. I just DO NOT CARE/AGREE with you for perpetuating stereotypes that should have died long before the fall of the Soviet Union, let alone 2010!).

Anywaaaaaaaay…

I said that I was in a weird place because I’m halfway here and halfway in America. I like the fact that I can basically understand what people say most of the time (I will NEVER be fluent, and I’m not even close to the best Georgian speakers in our PCV group), and there are some genuinely sweet and kind people I’m associated with. I think that even if the impacts are small that the work I’m doing/will continue to do will help SOMEONE. And that’s good enough for me right now.

Always end on a positive note. Which reminds me! I'll be in TEXAS officially from August 24th to September 6th. So come and gape at the PCV! I'll give you a hug and possibly never let go.

Stay tuned for the next entry, which will discuss my weekend TRIP TO ARMENIA!

Talk to ya.

Lauren