The whirlwind that is the holiday season in Georgia has come and gone. The holidays last longer here than in America, and because their Christmas is different than ours, we Americans get 5 holidays to celebrate.
St. Barbara's Day (Barbaroba)- With 2 weeks left in the year, Georgian’s celebrate St. Barbara’s Day. Interestingly, St. Barbara in most other cultures is the patron saint of children. In Georgia, St. Barbara is the patron saint of welders and other industrial workers. At midnight the morning of the day, a supra (traditional large meal) is prepared and the family waits. They wait for a special guest who has previously been invited. Tradition says that the first guest to the house on this day must be someone they respect and who will bring warm wishes. However one acts and whatever happens on this day sets the tone for the next year. People therefore try to be as friendly, and positive as possible. Because my mom’s name is Barbara (my real mom), my family told me that this is her day. So go you mom! :)
Christmas Eve/ Day- The 24
th and 25
th of December are no longer the days Georgians celebrate Christmas. For this day, which is my favorite holiday in the states, I opted to spend it with 12 other volunteers at a friend’s apartment. The meal that we all had on Christmas Eve was epic. We had borsch prepared by the hostess, Nastai, originally from Russian, so it was the best borsch I’ve ever had. We also had cabbage pie (which to my surprise was amazing), curry sauce, mashed potatoes, and chicken. For dessert we had apple pie, my favorite, and baked applies! It was unlike any Christmas dinner I have ever had. I missed my mom's dressing and homemade noodles more than I ever thought possible. Since it was also the first Christmas away from my family, I welcomed the unique feast and I could not have been happier with so many other volunteers! Caitlin M. deserves a great deal of credit for the pies and the rest of the feast! I cut the carrots. :) Claire and I were also responsible for the decorations! Two different strands of the lights were broken, and I repaired them. I also plugged in one of the strands to test them while still holding the circuit. Fortunately, I did not shock myself too badly and the lights still worked! Like I said; epic.
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| Cabbage Pies and Apple Pies |
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| Cabbage Pie Close-up |
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| Borsch! | |
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| Baked Applies |
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| Volunteer Christmas Dinner! |
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| Thank you/ Madloba/Spasiba Nastia! |
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New Year’s- New Year’s is the biggest holiday of the holiday season for Georgians. Gifts are not given to the extent they are in America, but when they are given it is for this day, not Christmas. I spent New Year's at Claire’s house in Zestaponi with her host family. Fireworks are just as much a staple of ringing in the New Year here as they are in America. On the railing on Claire’s balcony Claire’s family attached a bazooka-like tube from which to launch artillery shells. I was a little afraid it would blow the balcony off, but all was well. From said balcony, one has an expansive view of the city, which has a population of about 22,000 people. At exactly midnight the sky lit up like something I had never seen in my life. For at least 10 minutes I watched an endless symphony of firework explosions all across the city. It was a beautiful way to start the New Year. Of course, after all the excitement had died down, we had a supra with her family that lasted until at least 3 in the morning. By 9 A.M. New Year's Day, at least 15 people were at her house already partaking in the "real deal" supra where, like at all supras, the wine flowed freely. I have yet to figure out the wonder that is the Georgians' ability to sleep very little and still have more energy than I after a full night’s rest.
*Fun fact about Santa Clause in Georgian- his name is Tovlis Papa or Tovlis Babua which means Grandfather Snow.
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| Tree in Zestaponi (Claire's City) |
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| Note the way happy is spelled. |
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| Eleniko, Claire's Host Sister :) |
Shoba- January 7 is Christmas for Georgians. This day is not near as anticipated or celebrated as New Year’s, but a supra is still held to commemorate the day. At midnight my host dad brought me to the large church in Lagodekhi for the Orthodox version of midnight mass. In Georgian Orthodox churches there are no pews; people stand for the entire service. On this day, there was barely standing room; people were packed in very tightly together. I did not mind this as much as I once would have, as my desire for personal space has been trumped regularly by the Georgian belief there is no such thing. However, candles are very prominent in the worshiping rituals in these churches and I was very afraid of lighting my hair or scarf on fire. (Women are required to wear skirts and head coverings in the church.) My host dad is one of the nicest and most sincere individuals I have met in this country. He loves sharing his culture with me and he always looks out for me. For this experience, he made sure that I was exposed to all aspects of it. For the service, boys were singing at the front right, and girls were alternating with them reading passages to the left. The church was not all together segregated, but on the whole, women tended to stand to the left by the girls reading reading scripture and the men to the right by the boys singing. Why they did this or if it is actually a "thing", I have no idea. Often here, supras are similarly segregated, with women at one end of the table and men at the other. There was a great deal of back and forth in the ceremony between the girls reading and the guys singing. This service was still not like any church service I had ever attended in America. People were coming and going for the duration of my time there, and while most everyone was somewhat attentive, it was not the all eyes on the front of the room and listening attentively behavior to which we are accustomed. At one point, someone from the church hierarchy came around with what I presumed to be incense. At this time, the crowds parted, pushing everyone even closer together and greatly increasing the likelihood of my being lit on fire. There was not a clear rhythm to these proceedings, so I was lost the entire time I was there. At another juncture in the service, when I was still on the “men’s side”, all the men around me knelt on the ground. Protocol for this kind of thing is not always the same for men and women so I was entirely unsure what the appropriate step for me to take was. For example, at supras, men will often stand to partake in toasts of oober importance, while it is inappropriate for a woman to ever stand and toast. There was one other young girl and a bebia (grandma) in my vicinity, so I watched to see what they did. As is usually the case in this country, I was very aware of the multiple sets of eyes watching me, the strange foreigner, at all times. Since the other two women around me remained standing, and given that I was in a skirt and wasn’t in a hurry to try and maneuver kneeling in it, I remained standing also. Now imagine all the stares I solicited standing among a sea of kneeling men. It was slightly daunting, but I’m starting to get used to the stares. I usually just start laughing when it is very blatant; which probably makes them think I am even more odd when I am always laughing to myself. We eventually made our way to the “women’s side”, where after a while a different member of the church order came out into the crowd. When he came out I was standing directly next to the pedestal in which they place their candles in sand where they remain burning. I have never been shoved and crammed into a herd of other humans more in my life than I was when he came out. He had a glass of oil, what kind I do not know, and a paint brush. One by one individuals would approach him and he would paint a cross on their forehead. My host dad asked if I wanted to participate, so getting the green light on it being acceptable for me to do it even though I am not Orthodox, I went for it. This time, my scarf really did almost catch. Multiple times my host father shoved me back into the throngs of eager worshipers so I would not be engulfed in flames. This was also the first time I have ever seen a line enforced- EVER in this country! When some children ran up to the man, out of turn, he promptly informed them they had to get in line. It was remarkable. We stayed for more of the service, during which the man whom I presume was the big guns came out and read from a Bible which another man held over his head for him to see. We did not leave until almost 2 in the morning! I asked my host dad when the service was complete, and he told me they do it for the entire day! People may come and go as they please to be a part of the Shoba service at any point during that time.
Dzveli Axal Tsels (Old New Year)- According to the old Orthodox calendar, the new year falls on January 14. This is the last of the holidays celebrated in the long line of them. This time Goodloe was at my house, which always makes the supra process a little easier. Eventually, our individual language skills always run out, especially at supras, where we are typically the center of attention for a decent amount of time. When there is a fellow volunteer present, it makes communicating a little easier, since we can help each other. This feast, like all the others, began at midnight. Many people in my town set off fireworks for this day also. When Goodloe and I heard them going off, we went outside to watch. We heard one that seemed particularly loud, but we just assumed it was an artillery shell. When we exited the front gate we came upon my host dad wielding a shot gun. He smiled at me and just said it’s tradition. At that point, we realized he had shot the gun into the air as some sort of symbolic gesture. I am glad that I did not come outside until after that one. At around 3 in the morning we excused ourselves from the table as we were no longer able to function well in English much less Georgian, but I am sure they kept going at least another hour. Before we excused ourselves we tried the traditional foods for the day. This included the pig pictured above. It was not the traditional pieces of meat which we were eating. There was some kind of jellied food which we were pretty confident was the brains of the pig. It wasn’t exactly my favorite.
