tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50312837319189699862024-03-19T15:30:23.312-07:00Jana Dene AdventuresJana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-60584890511546081282013-04-03T08:50:00.002-07:002013-04-03T11:09:49.819-07:00A Snapshot of My Life in 20 Pictures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpla14LAfA_Nu2kL2nTK73C8FSsChk3kQNdkU1kgEZio2TxM9zbnNAMNCZEFkE1jN4BkithI_xMJ2LXTbGdgI8M5iz0ULLnHw2uoGhPLeqGLVY0n-olddeuIs4_VuKlvvPdNBXycsiHim/s1600/DSCN4162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpla14LAfA_Nu2kL2nTK73C8FSsChk3kQNdkU1kgEZio2TxM9zbnNAMNCZEFkE1jN4BkithI_xMJ2LXTbGdgI8M5iz0ULLnHw2uoGhPLeqGLVY0n-olddeuIs4_VuKlvvPdNBXycsiHim/s400/DSCN4162.jpg" style="color: black;" width="400" /></a><span style="color: black;">In this picture my </span>darling Claire and I are at the marshutka station in my town. The mountains behind us are the Caucasus Mountains which create a natural and political border border between Russia (or rather the volatile region known as Dagestan) and Georgia. Marshutka rides have gone from being one of the greatest anxiety-inducing experiences in Georgia, to a minor nuisance that I now accept as part of the reality of getting around. I have made friends with the nice lady who sells tickets and the man in charge of corralling passengers. Now, when it is cold she brings me back into her office area to sit by the stove and I get VIP treatment from the man who even tells the drivers to let me sit up front (a coveted seat on most marshutkas in which one must get special permission to sit).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVT0BPwE_hmViRbW3A70wI_SHIQhzLxvuvV35Xbeu3Rn1hVpVc_pRjmmWTvJqVCmPEr20jrhDEnpzNe4np6irTD3Zuej7oek9XTZ5Er13LiOKhXG8wg7ia352_wl8FahIJpISL-Aahoe5g/s1600/LagoToiletReno.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVT0BPwE_hmViRbW3A70wI_SHIQhzLxvuvV35Xbeu3Rn1hVpVc_pRjmmWTvJqVCmPEr20jrhDEnpzNe4np6irTD3Zuej7oek9XTZ5Er13LiOKhXG8wg7ia352_wl8FahIJpISL-Aahoe5g/s640/LagoToiletReno.jpg" width="480" /></a> I was awarded for my school a USAID Small Projects Assistance Grant to
renovate the restroom facilities. For
years the school has been without running water inside. This is not
atypical in Georgia, however, the school has had indoor facilities all this time. Just
use your imagination to figure out the major issue with having indoor
facilities with no running water, manual flushing, and 700 students.
Beyond the germ factor, it was less than pleasant aromatically speaking. Unfortunately,
schools often times do not receive large enough budgets to achieve the
full extent of the repairs necessary for these kinds of renovations.
So, with 25% contribution from my school and with the rest coming from
the grant, we were able to have 17 toilets either replaced or fully
renovated, as well as restore running water capabilities to 8 sinks, 2
of which had to be replaced. Because of the large number of toilets and
sinks, we were unable to have a budget large enough to do superficial
renovations. Students and teachers were thrilled nonetheless with the
makeover!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfZyx7hTPIDgW6O9c_uD-gkiYhhvrkdPvO6-XsyALD04EYxx0w8_LwnQxyWC-FtYvksGhfqFjId2kXva9-oXF5CQKD_74JBnVzbo-TCtiP_5GjfkSLq978HTCSsF0mPeTqKcubG5QjbbFG/s1600/LagoSinkReno.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfZyx7hTPIDgW6O9c_uD-gkiYhhvrkdPvO6-XsyALD04EYxx0w8_LwnQxyWC-FtYvksGhfqFjId2kXva9-oXF5CQKD_74JBnVzbo-TCtiP_5GjfkSLq978HTCSsF0mPeTqKcubG5QjbbFG/s400/LagoSinkReno.jpg" width="400" /></a> I did not simply want to do a physical improvement project, but ever in
the mindset of youth development, we agreed if we did the renovation
that I would be allowed to have health trainings to tie in with the
project. I had a training of trainers (ToT) with my wonderful 10th grade
students in which we discussed basic hygiene, the spread of germs and
disease through unclean hands, how to properly wash one's hands, and the
importance of water sanitation. Then, for two days, the students and
my counterpart Lina held this training for nearly every class in the
school. All in all, close to 650 students participated in the
trainings. One of the greatest achievements of the project was that I
only facilitated the ToT and from there, they completely took ownership
of the project. These are the types of projects that reaffirm the
meaning in volunteers' services!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2F4rV4JUzEUvwXdsGTBp-gL1gxAGu04wS6PUbzkqqqqbg8N9gAZ4TeOrVtniNCQDYEVa_X5nazZwpvDSUMRz9gtxPxK_xow60P1xWVYvBlatNAIJYlpIfegSXT0fPKQ0Yg6giFt61HNb2/s1600/DSCN4204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2F4rV4JUzEUvwXdsGTBp-gL1gxAGu04wS6PUbzkqqqqbg8N9gAZ4TeOrVtniNCQDYEVa_X5nazZwpvDSUMRz9gtxPxK_xow60P1xWVYvBlatNAIJYlpIfegSXT0fPKQ0Yg6giFt61HNb2/s640/DSCN4204.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the room in which I have lived and called home for 18 months.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfo1UqxjBXNZ2MZTvFtv4rdaqzdcZZayDYU7jESt410h0dXEBhSW9W3n3tHCYF9KI21eYGLLOBDEJqCuBDfRFh2nzDAlo0njyfcVstZBhh9cNzSyrQMvqZX85UcWBtHYTSLG613zgIShI/s1600/DSCN4214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfo1UqxjBXNZ2MZTvFtv4rdaqzdcZZayDYU7jESt410h0dXEBhSW9W3n3tHCYF9KI21eYGLLOBDEJqCuBDfRFh2nzDAlo0njyfcVstZBhh9cNzSyrQMvqZX85UcWBtHYTSLG613zgIShI/s320/DSCN4214.jpg" width="320" /></a> On the bed is the sleeping bag that I have spent no less than 10 months of my life hunkered in. While this winter is nowhere near the arctic conditions of last winter, when you live in a concrete house, even when it is nice Spring weather outside, it is quite like living inside a refrigerator. On the desk in the corner is a shelving unit which Claire and I constructed out of USPS boxes from my care packages. Although my beds are two twins pushed together, I have spent a year and half sleeping basically in the crack for want of an ability to pick a side. And yes, that is my Titanic towel in the chair, and I am very proud to own it. The rug in the middle of the floor with rectangles is my version of a yoga mat. I was unaware of the one place in the country where the genuine article is sold when I decided to make do. To make do is the necessary Peace Corps Volunteer mantra.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-_XS2-5qjJN-R71I0DKYi02RJbgiAMuliJAgXhj-PhlFG_1B9TDKs81exBrv-M4q6mMVD9W9QiSB9Vy_eW8KfC0dLvo0ykzZJCl7rMxa44P5GCmihgsXKFAMLrF2ZFkLk3J97vtkylB3k/s1600/DSCN4267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-_XS2-5qjJN-R71I0DKYi02RJbgiAMuliJAgXhj-PhlFG_1B9TDKs81exBrv-M4q6mMVD9W9QiSB9Vy_eW8KfC0dLvo0ykzZJCl7rMxa44P5GCmihgsXKFAMLrF2ZFkLk3J97vtkylB3k/s400/DSCN4267.jpg" width="400" /></a>Nearly every item in this cabinet is a vessel from which Georgians drink. The little crystal glasses on the top shelf are from what wine is typically drunk. Typically at supras (Georgian dinner parties), men will drink their entire glass every time the Tamada (toastmaster) makes a toast. Someone will usually exclaim "bolomde", which literally translates to "to the end" - the end being the end of the glass. The bell in the middle of the second shelf, is, in fact, a drinking vessel. The idea of both the bell, and the horns to either side of it being that once one has wine in the vessel, it is impossible to place said vessel back down, so the contents must be consumed. Once the bell is emptied, it is usually rung, while all other vessels are held upside down over the table to prove they are empty. Recently my host dad was having a supra with his friends and tried to hand me the horn. Initially, I thought it would be an affront to not accept it, but there are also always delicate rules which females must navigate. I am part of the family enough that I would not have been at risk of being looked down upon, but I was not particularly interested in chugging a horn's worth of wine. My host mom gave me an amused look letting me know the decision was entirely mine. So, after initially accepting I instantly handed it back to my host father. At which point my host mom told me, "If you don't want it, then don't put out your hand to accept, because technically once you have accepted, the responsibility to empty the vessel and render it able to be set back down is yours." (No I don't know "render" in Georgian, but that was the gist.) In the middle of the bottom shelf there are small terracotta bowls which also serve as drinking containers, but since they can be set down even with liquid inside of them, I do not know what their special purpose is. The final vessel, which is not pictured, is a shingle. Yes, a shingle. As in the terracotta semi-cylindrical objects of which roofs are made. Although I have never personally encountered this practice, many volunteers have participated in the act of placing a shingle to his or her mouth and the wine then being poured into it. </div>
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This is the view from my front window. It is gorgeous. No explanation necessary.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSY385lK0aVUqs70IzvNAmaiXqvMEHn9jnr5etzfji1jJ5ytHUydzoh6CZx_qlSB7_jn46cSOwl6uiIZQYJPLuh8Kug4qvWsOpIt0KvgEDD-WAmk4g1oot89E9mGB32sK8rOHcb3YS_mJc/s1600/DSCN4184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSY385lK0aVUqs70IzvNAmaiXqvMEHn9jnr5etzfji1jJ5ytHUydzoh6CZx_qlSB7_jn46cSOwl6uiIZQYJPLuh8Kug4qvWsOpIt0KvgEDD-WAmk4g1oot89E9mGB32sK8rOHcb3YS_mJc/s400/DSCN4184.jpg" width="400" /></a>In the beginning of tackling the challenge of hanging clothes on the line, I was, in a word, terrible. It usually took me a good half of an hour to hang a load of laundry. Despite how many episodes of "Little House on the Prairie" I watched when I was younger, and other educational period movies, I really did not know what I was doing. Regardless of what you may think, it is not a very intuitive chore. Some things hang by the bottom, others by the top, others are spread out completely. Then there is the sharing of clothes pins that most items require, because there never seem to be enough pins for all of the articles of clothing. On top of all of that, Georgians are particular about the way in which laundry is hung. It is not okay to have pants, and then a shirt, then a long-sleeved shirt, then a skirt. Things must be grouped together and hung in an orderly fashion. It is a sign of being tidy to the neighbors. Well I am proud to report, after nearly two years, I have just about mastered the process! This picture is my recent handy-work. I am also saddened to report a bird mistook one of my articles of clothing for a litter box. I look forward to using a dryer once again soon.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpS78pOT5FGQ9mx80nbJjVxD5TaBOeiuBANIvljLYigLipQqISUoCuyEmOweumgq2yj92umpmZmzZjXwCnbrrc9vSV6681BOEKtHgG48R9IcDpi5ITizDOzCEfhAPGbsVb1xXxJYizVgrL/s1600/DSCN4159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpS78pOT5FGQ9mx80nbJjVxD5TaBOeiuBANIvljLYigLipQqISUoCuyEmOweumgq2yj92umpmZmzZjXwCnbrrc9vSV6681BOEKtHgG48R9IcDpi5ITizDOzCEfhAPGbsVb1xXxJYizVgrL/s400/DSCN4159.jpg" width="400" /></a>This is my host dad's still in our back yard. Here, chacha (Georgian
hard alcohol which can only be made from grapes) is being made. The pot in the bottom
of the picture is the final product and ready to be consumed. When a
new batch is made, it is not very easy to refuse the proud maker when
(s)he offers you a taste of the chach of his/her labor... I only choked a
little bit. Another fun fact - my host dad made mtsvadi over the fire
while the alcohol was processing. (Is that right word? I'm not realy up
on technical alcohol making lingo.) Nevertheless, to make mtsvadi, the meat is cut into roughly 2x2
inch pieces, coated in salt, and cooked on skewers on an open fire.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEims65Ikvyyjv5oqdhXSTopgJ_z5NQBMHVmHfE_CGKMFNB09C1ka37LYCASKJ8KPjxhm0nVeWZ-dW0BLjYDBRUJgs0WKmW8Oskj8pdgLudHgaNqZmauE_qh-hiXHtiErntbF_DrPnpNmJ8b/s1600/DSCN4193.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEims65Ikvyyjv5oqdhXSTopgJ_z5NQBMHVmHfE_CGKMFNB09C1ka37LYCASKJ8KPjxhm0nVeWZ-dW0BLjYDBRUJgs0WKmW8Oskj8pdgLudHgaNqZmauE_qh-hiXHtiErntbF_DrPnpNmJ8b/s400/DSCN4193.jpg" width="400" /></a> This kind of decorating, which is commonplace in the States does not really take place here all that often. Last year, my counterpart and I, on multiple occasions, hung things in the hallways only to discover they had been destroyed within a few minutes. This year we tried again, only now we hang everything where only extremely tall students can reach the students' artwork on a chair. It seems the students either really cannot reach what we put on the walls, or they too have come to appreciate the brightening up of the hallway. I always loved holiday artwork when I was in school, and I get a great deal of joy out of passing this on to my students now. This Easter artwork is particularly exciting because Easter eggs in Georgia are traditionally only died red, so it was nice to see the students embracing the American style of decorating their eggs and expressing themselves and being creative.</div>
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I know, I'm being such a doting teacher right now, but I am so proud of my little kiddos. Sometimes, as a remnant from the Soviet system of education, it can be a bit of a struggle to draw out students' creativity here. With this activity, the kids just ran with it!</div>
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I believe I may have posted this picture before, but it never really
gets old. It says "school" in Russian. I like it for a number of
reasons. I had earlier believed it to simply be a relic from the Soviet past when it was upside down and lying to the side of the road. But
since then, someone has put it back in place. The kicker is, it is not
pointing in the direction of either school in town, so it continues to
boggle the mind. I was on a run recently, which is always a possibly
more stressful task than stress relieving here, and I ran past this
sign. Dogs tend to be problems in this country, but I personally had
never really had a problem with them on my runs. On this particular
day, I was scared senseless multiple times by particularly ferocious
canines. My system was to keep running and they generally left me
alone. As I was passing my beloved sign, a dog came at me which I
wasn't particularly concerned about as one of the three men staring at
me as I passed by had just been playing with it. I slowed down just a
bit so as to not antagonize it further, and thinking the man would call
it off. I slowed down just enough for it to nip at my leg. Fortunately
I had on baggy enough running pants that it didn't break the skin. I
would have been none too pleased if my run turned into needing Rabies
shots. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkaLecxqyXTpz_Lf1HkKjlbs0hqPxK7QAo8XbIuXdI_LTuntcJQO2_bJayTJ0s1szZVBKcrkxXCk4bHM5dBWJTcouFHyC5t6AjGX1hGAVraHXZ0562S-sFYOrNId4vm-YTmKilJDfPvM4C/s1600/DSCN3415.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkaLecxqyXTpz_Lf1HkKjlbs0hqPxK7QAo8XbIuXdI_LTuntcJQO2_bJayTJ0s1szZVBKcrkxXCk4bHM5dBWJTcouFHyC5t6AjGX1hGAVraHXZ0562S-sFYOrNId4vm-YTmKilJDfPvM4C/s400/DSCN3415.jpg" width="400" /></a> These are piglets at my host family's village house. I have enough farm to table food experience, from living here, that I am well aware that it was a few pigs ago that
these little cuties were alive. Now that I have been faced with this fact, I don't see how vegetarianism wasn't a
bigger social phenomenon sooner . Full disclosure: I
still eat my family's mtsvadi (Georgian pork BBQ). So, I guess I do.</div>
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This is one of the most amazing places I have ever visited. I went to it this past year on a camping trip with fellow volunteers that one of our staff members coordinated. It is called "The Balcony of the Earth". It is positioned so that one can see the deep valley below and the mountains in the distance for miles - truly breathtaking! </div>
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A few of us on the balcony. The mural is made up of many vibrant and intricate historical representations of Georgian history.<br />
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View from the balcony! This group of people is known around here as the Wolf Pack or Mglis Khrova in Georgian. We have been together since the very beginning, when we were in a training group together for our first three months in country. I do not know what my service would have been like without them. Our friendships and what they have contributed to my success as a volunteer cannot be overstated. I love each of them and we will be life long friends! Insert cheesy "aww" here. But seriously, I mean it, I love them.<br />
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This is the trek up to Gergeti Trinity church, one of the most notable places to visit in Georgia, which is across the valley from Mount Kazbegi. This is another volunteer and me going directly up the side of the mountain (the hard way) rather than taking the road around. It was quite difficult, but it took considerably less time.</div>
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And this is the view from the top! It is absolutely worth the hike. Fun fact about the way I am sitting: here in Georgia this stance is known as a birzha squat. A birzha is typically a group of men who sit in groups talking, playing games, and often drinking some form of alcohol. In lieu of adequate seating, the individuals in these groups will often sit just like this - thus the name. However, one does not have to be in a birzha for it to be absolutely socially acceptable to sit like this. So, when waiting for public transportation, in line, or anywhere really where there isn't seating available and one does not feel like standing for a long time, this is a viable option. I am particularly fond of this given that I practice this in the States. Although there I am often met with strange stares. But not in Georgia! Win for the birzha squat!</div>
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Here is the actual church. Half of the reason for the arduous hike is to take in the scenery and the other is to see the church itself. Historical churches are very common in Georgia. Given their thriving Orthodoxy membership, they have done a lot to preserve the many churches throughout the country. The dome in the background is typical for Georgian Orthodox church architecture.</div>
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Another view from the top. It never gets old. Georgia truly has beautiful and diverse nature that I am going to miss a great deal when I leave. In two years I have never tired of going down the road and frequently seeing centuries old fortresses or churches nestled in scarcely developed natural surroundings. </div>
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Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-56976877936953290412012-12-16T14:23:00.004-08:002012-12-16T14:41:01.625-08:00A Day to Celebrate Family, Near and Far<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Well, it is that time of year again. To me, holiday season, in Georgia, begins
with Barbaroba or St. Barbara’s Day, on December 17. It does not feel like it has been all that long
since I last wrote about this special day, but here we are again. Something about having a holiday with my own
mother’s namesake makes it more special.<o:p></o:p></div>
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An interesting element of Georgian holidays is that they are
very often celebrated beginning at midnight, rather than the evening of the day
of the holiday. So, it is 1:30 in the
morning and I have just come from a supra (Georgian fest) and I was the first
to leave. Another fun fact is that any
Georgian family I have ever stayed or lived with has been able to stay up much
later than I, and they wake up earlier!<o:p></o:p></div>
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This was not an all out feast, only my host parents and two neighbors,
even still it was one of those times that while it is happening one knows will
become a special memory. As I sat in
the same place I sat a year ago, understanding significantly more of the
conversation, I did my best to enjoy the time I have left with my second
family. There was banter between my host
father and me, hugs with my host mom, and shared conversation with our guests. My host dad toasted Americans and said ours
is a country with good ladies, which he now knows because of knowing me. There was nothing particularly special or out
of the ordinary about this evening compared to the many other supras at which
we have spent time together, but it was just the kind of memory the Peace Corps
experience is all about. It was another
night of spending time celebrating a holiday from a different culture with
people whom I will always treasure and who have taken me into their home and
family.<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-75758048348990605762012-10-30T12:16:00.000-07:002012-10-30T12:16:03.632-07:00Making Chorchkhela "Georgian Snicker's" with the Fam and Neighbors<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Chorchkhela is a traditional Georgian food which they often refer to as Georgian Snickers. The remaining bits of grape and juice left over after making wine are saved, mixed with flour, and boiled for many hours. The concoction is a natural sweet goo. Hazelnuts and walnuts are strung prior to the day of making the treats. The string is held in the middle with nuts on either side and then dipped into the vat of grape blend. Then the string is slowly pulled out as a coating of the grape mixture sticks to the nuts. They are then hung to dry and saved to be eaten all throughout the winter.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNepApBdUGJYEG9LDwN7tRJ3sZdgH1G9k0qlIDpVWSMkEHVucmn17fnyKjZ-x0TPylYok2sf6YFhHJuO5OhJbkeTxQZ0WRTTsTckDJQxH4Zgx2i-RSjOWesmIxpKvzl6sj89Im7lbvQytR/s1600/Ch3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNepApBdUGJYEG9LDwN7tRJ3sZdgH1G9k0qlIDpVWSMkEHVucmn17fnyKjZ-x0TPylYok2sf6YFhHJuO5OhJbkeTxQZ0WRTTsTckDJQxH4Zgx2i-RSjOWesmIxpKvzl6sj89Im7lbvQytR/s320/Ch3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The neighbors all came over to help to make an assembly line.</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/AVvXsEg7fDjN5-Nbjs7HF_nzu606-7WQa0g-1VpV4SOkSZnE-_nzCUEh0rDx9iLTGBhARYh2ylLCiqZE5ITYlQpST7lvSS5ATF9T1gbOilr8v3aD5Qa45taSvpiTC9mWdEWtrx5JO1nwK2khBmWO/s1600/Ch1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7fDjN5-Nbjs7HF_nzu606-7WQa0g-1VpV4SOkSZnE-_nzCUEh0rDx9iLTGBhARYh2ylLCiqZE5ITYlQpST7lvSS5ATF9T1gbOilr8v3aD5Qa45taSvpiTC9mWdEWtrx5JO1nwK2khBmWO/s320/Ch1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host Mom Ketino stirring the grape mixture.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXUqFYy5U-0shxX6ChRbfJSgsgnDaTtkIlOBaTslGMBan_7df5y0CV6yfa_WwJqDZhNpiqdVtZK0fZ_gwwB2s7X0ExDeA3BGke_-uGsGTh60kKWSZE41pswn_YeS3XwzEdv-ER_n4ZfDN/s1600/DSCN4109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXUqFYy5U-0shxX6ChRbfJSgsgnDaTtkIlOBaTslGMBan_7df5y0CV6yfa_WwJqDZhNpiqdVtZK0fZ_gwwB2s7X0ExDeA3BGke_-uGsGTh60kKWSZE41pswn_YeS3XwzEdv-ER_n4ZfDN/s320/DSCN4109.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The steaming grape mix.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimXFQa5fu8tBFbXQqCeXfcagdQWIXSUM82c48TV02s99gx1E3htcwBdU8Ixbvtv3n2kYG7p3nKcn_vwCKmODuuh1JPfUNYSBNIGlnm0F28632Z749zNPrkYLkHTecM8HqRySrnyLmohnZo/s1600/CH2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimXFQa5fu8tBFbXQqCeXfcagdQWIXSUM82c48TV02s99gx1E3htcwBdU8Ixbvtv3n2kYG7p3nKcn_vwCKmODuuh1JPfUNYSBNIGlnm0F28632Z749zNPrkYLkHTecM8HqRySrnyLmohnZo/s320/CH2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging them to dry.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqgBZy8nX10sEbvyduw5XuBmERSxhZCtbbgm3Q6D0S42dBDqt0FDTHd_JIx0ee6IO8M7BcypN1hWoMgpdW6tIxt7GhG-C6BVIW7_mzuIVMNLKpectzgejcpAWuxRGl7lcWlcf8X5iZZf8/s1600/Ch4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqgBZy8nX10sEbvyduw5XuBmERSxhZCtbbgm3Q6D0S42dBDqt0FDTHd_JIx0ee6IO8M7BcypN1hWoMgpdW6tIxt7GhG-C6BVIW7_mzuIVMNLKpectzgejcpAWuxRGl7lcWlcf8X5iZZf8/s320/Ch4.jpg" width="240" /></a><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IDJyl9cbYvwkfoRrcPp1oglnKNOA8jGO0XEjcQ8j7Ba8YssUMME2GMoOdUfLWmXRBP3oUux_YoH1lfLCEwNqEW-dL0DJfCk3-F8gZzNMVghNfys1dLx_4izRWwPyrEemS9E1HGCYKN4_/s1600/Ch5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IDJyl9cbYvwkfoRrcPp1oglnKNOA8jGO0XEjcQ8j7Ba8YssUMME2GMoOdUfLWmXRBP3oUux_YoH1lfLCEwNqEW-dL0DJfCk3-F8gZzNMVghNfys1dLx_4izRWwPyrEemS9E1HGCYKN4_/s320/Ch5.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My turn!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiT-F8AJq3hz_Yy_mLw6q9F6mmYmddUNAWqnXAKNCoTNEqm9JuUm39vUFVPuqvpxDx-nfEXRsJU_e-X2bDy-A1aW-8sHzG23VjtE1C9AVoZ1ZNL47EGyHaEvKxM_59ADjSC3nCtxOT0mVm/s1600/Ch6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiT-F8AJq3hz_Yy_mLw6q9F6mmYmddUNAWqnXAKNCoTNEqm9JuUm39vUFVPuqvpxDx-nfEXRsJU_e-X2bDy-A1aW-8sHzG23VjtE1C9AVoZ1ZNL47EGyHaEvKxM_59ADjSC3nCtxOT0mVm/s320/Ch6.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ketino coaches me.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirG31jjdVsVAFmnW544EYoZxs7gg5BtCAjoWsdGywj1ae7ucXEW5xgm32I_o_QlQpKf9ae96xxGT-44t4pA1xo3zxY0rsvdBXEEUtW6GisN1vLZ3L_POvhbsja9Gy0rWR9reFIlQoVrQuG/s1600/Ch7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirG31jjdVsVAFmnW544EYoZxs7gg5BtCAjoWsdGywj1ae7ucXEW5xgm32I_o_QlQpKf9ae96xxGT-44t4pA1xo3zxY0rsvdBXEEUtW6GisN1vLZ3L_POvhbsja9Gy0rWR9reFIlQoVrQuG/s320/Ch7.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not half bad!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigRgYfrCn9yirPRFNBtflnCtVmGumW3oneI-XRxEQp3U-k0GGlQpATmL4UbRV_5nzBABuJz3_HnZAv4fLELplWmIsUNos-z2JMrW2P4SEC03urDs823I_wBysyQqomA9ZDieqtnDSqBSqZ/s1600/DSCN4124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigRgYfrCn9yirPRFNBtflnCtVmGumW3oneI-XRxEQp3U-k0GGlQpATmL4UbRV_5nzBABuJz3_HnZAv4fLELplWmIsUNos-z2JMrW2P4SEC03urDs823I_wBysyQqomA9ZDieqtnDSqBSqZ/s320/DSCN4124.JPG" width="320" /></a><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host dad Giorgi counting our finished products.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All of the finished Chorchkhela!</td></tr>
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Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-37217436132593099832012-10-30T11:02:00.000-07:002012-10-30T11:02:20.927-07:00Turning 25 in My Third Birthday Abroad!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Birthdays abroad are always an adventure and this one was no different! I spent the weekend before with dear friends in Tbilisi and celebrated with teachers at school on the actual day.</div>
<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3gKOySuM4hu5Cpd25sc6QJd9RMpyvFzHzZiolGJo540UTx3WQlaGhLQdmwiY7EPJUJWz2qRWWhmuHblxUE-rnDtN31EcSWwnAdQ7kbbvH765onn5EdZKizbfoG-Ug_rBpttWlYej0lqkA/s1600/DSCN4104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3gKOySuM4hu5Cpd25sc6QJd9RMpyvFzHzZiolGJo540UTx3WQlaGhLQdmwiY7EPJUJWz2qRWWhmuHblxUE-rnDtN31EcSWwnAdQ7kbbvH765onn5EdZKizbfoG-Ug_rBpttWlYej0lqkA/s400/DSCN4104.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My counterpart Lina had this written on the board when I came in! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lina, my counterpart and dear friend celebrating my birthday in my classroom! I love her!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgms_GA9ZXZak5JWUHlPevnYjw_Mi0ddAjavqGysufpF2BOWz4wtV4OmYjsr3uEgqRNpCvw5TOV9sGBx2fDvm1LMUHItUvTPR46YBX8-oGnUpzPBEmbWVff5aQapArEXYQSYZ7bZnoWz-9P/s1600/DSCN4106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgms_GA9ZXZak5JWUHlPevnYjw_Mi0ddAjavqGysufpF2BOWz4wtV4OmYjsr3uEgqRNpCvw5TOV9sGBx2fDvm1LMUHItUvTPR46YBX8-oGnUpzPBEmbWVff5aQapArEXYQSYZ7bZnoWz-9P/s320/DSCN4106.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My birthday cake and khinkali (meat dumplings) the teachers got for me to celebrate with me. (There was also wine, because it's Georgian tradition.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bCAHQDp8o6PP4CMPyWqLl4KfSmCzFdHfhotewstJP1MZzU4ncLlPwazBbGfwQ0WlLkcDzbyr4qs7LMBErbuXVUbdjIukWkV3Q2-1ScTg3CF_U6_79v5Vc0DpTdCnxTla645flaB0wJBv/s1600/DSCN4107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bCAHQDp8o6PP4CMPyWqLl4KfSmCzFdHfhotewstJP1MZzU4ncLlPwazBbGfwQ0WlLkcDzbyr4qs7LMBErbuXVUbdjIukWkV3Q2-1ScTg3CF_U6_79v5Vc0DpTdCnxTla645flaB0wJBv/s320/DSCN4107.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teachers celebrating with me.</td></tr>
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Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-81626526809306104822012-10-27T01:57:00.002-07:002012-10-27T01:57:30.281-07:00Nothing is Ever Normal...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here in Georgia there is almost never a time when things go absolutely as planned and what one would call routine. I will say, that I have only lived here as a blonde-haired (which they call a 'kara'), green-eyed foreigner, so maybe for the more dark featured not-so-obviously-foreign-looking volunteers this is not quite so, and I suppose the locals also do just fine. Nevertheless, it is a fact of living here that I will stand out no matter where I go. This is more often than not not a danger to me, it is simply an interruption to what otherwise would be normal days. I understand a major element of being a Peace Corps volunteer is being the American for locals to interact with, without whom they may not otherwise have the chance. So, despite how unnerving it is to always be a novelty, I do try my best to politely oblige when Georgians want my time and attention. Here are some examples of routine occurrences, (usually on public transportation): 1.) My hair is regularly petted, caressed, and played with by random women. They do, however, usually remark on its beauty when doing so, so I tend to let this one slide. 2.) If I speak basic Georgian, just as a matter of necessity, the next remarks out of anyone sitting next to me's mouth are, "Oh, you know Georgian? Great! Do you like it? Do you want to get married and stay here forever?" I am more forceful when answering these questions with a resounding "Yes. Yes. Absolutely not." 3.) Again if I open my mouth to speak Georgian - "Where are you from? Oh you're from America? How much money do you make?" 4.) When I don't open my mouth to speak Georgian - "Russian, Russian, Russian, and more Russian." (For anyone who didn't already know, let me clarify, I speak less than 10 words of Russian. This is a fact lost on many who cannot reconcile my appearance with my inability to speak Russian rather than Georgian). 5.) I have had nice old ladies who speak to me regularly in town finagle the seating so that I sit beside some man for whom they decide I would make a good bride. When said gentleman finally departs the mini-bus, they then spend the duration of the trip explaining to me the error of my refusal and why he is such a catch. 7.) The woman and men alike regularly try to feed me, but this happens to all volunteers, not just karas. 8.) I am asked to take pictures with strangers, and at a recent public event in the capital city, which was full of ex-pats, I at one time had no fewer than six cameras pointed at me as I was fixing my pony-tail.<br />
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Those are all things that have happened more times than I count. I began this post to tell a slightly more unique story that happened to me recently when traveling back from a friend's site. First, I waited along the side of the highway in his tiny village for a marshutka (mini-bus) to come for close to an hour. During this time I counted along the shoulder of the road 14 syringes, 3 IV bags, and 3 viles. To be fair, the old hospital was across the street up a hill and the new one was just down the street a ways, so maybe a trash bag from one of them fell off a truck, but that is nevertheless not the type of trash one likes to stand amongst for an hour. After waiting patiently (because what other choice did I have) to no avail, two villagers in a car, a nice old man and a middle aged man, asked if I was going to a specific destination, which I was and told me to get in and that they would take me. This is not atypical for Georgians to randomly offer others rides because they too know how long people generally have to wait for public transportation. With this in mind, I was not as afraid to take a ride as I might have been otherwise, but being that I am a foreign girl I was still reluctant to accept. My friend Colin lives in a pretty small village and everyone knows him and when he has foreign guests, so I knew if they tried to kidnap me, they were not likely to get away with it; I was still at the beginning of a 7 hour trek cross country; and I did not want to wait another hour, so I accepted. <br />
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Then the conversation began, since nothing is really free. For the thirty minutes of the trip I was bombarded with questions for 27 of them. Because most conversations with strangers go the same way in this country, by understanding this one dialogue, you can get the gist of most. The questions are usually as follows: "Are you and the foreign boy you were visiting/ hanging out with dating?", "Do you want to marry a Georgian?, "What places have you seen in Georgia?", "When will you come back to the village?", "Where are you from in the states?", "Do you have parents?", "Do you have children or a husband?", "Are you sure you don't want children and a husband in Georgia?", "Which Georgian foods do you like?", "Are students good students in Georgia?", "How long have you been here?", "Do you like America or Georgia better?", "Do you like President Saakasvhili?", "Do you like President Obama?", "Where do you live in Georgia?", "Do you like it there?", "Don't you love Georgia's nature?", "Don't you love the air in Georgia?", "Isn't it such good air?", and "How much does X item cost in America?". I have literally had this same conversation hundreds of times. If nothing else, I am getting pretty good at the answers. <br />
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But back to the trip. When we were almost to the town to which they were bringing me, we stopped for gas. Another thing to understand about daily life in Georgia is that the concept of lines do not really exist here. There are usually clusters of people crowded around any ticket window, cashier register, or the entrance to board any type of transportation. The same rules apply for cars. So, at gas stations there are cars going every which direction, wedged in front of each other, at each pump. They are also full service stations. When they young gas attendant did not come to our vehicle in a timely manner, the man who had been making friendly conversation with me for the past half an hour took less than two seconds to yell at him for slighting us. The kid tried to explain that the other vehicle was there first, but realistically who could tell? The man did not agree and continued to yell at the young man, at which point the young man began to mouth off in response. Then, the man was out of the car in less than another two seconds and was in the attendant's face in a full on rage verbally slaying him. This was the closet I have been to seeing a real life Hulk situation ever. All the other men at the station saw me in the back seat and tried to pull the men apart. Still, because this type of uproar between men is not really that uncommon here, no one was really all that excited about the situation, except for Hulk and his prey. He finally got back into the car and we continued into town. Not another word was said about the altercation. They then tried to take me to the newly renovated castle atop the hill in this town. I explained to them I was in a hurry and had already seen it and they finally agreed to forgo the trip and simply dropped me at the station. The man had turned back into his cordial self and escorted me to the marshutka. He then proceeded to pay for my ride and even when I adamantly refused, he explained that I am their guest in Georgia and it was only right that he pay for it. He also told the driver that I am their American guest and that he should protect me and look out for me for the duration of the trip. I thanked him emphatically, thrilled to have received a free ride being that I am a volunteer and all, and boarded the marshutka, ready to spend the next four and half hours reading and listening to my ipod unmolested.<br />
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Fast forward two hours when the man, who had not so subtly been staring at me, sitting beside me finally got the gumption to talk to me. Because the original nice man made such an ordeal out of announcing that I was the American guest, all of the other passengers knew that as well. The man beside me, who it turns out is a mayor of a small neighboring village to my friend's, decided he too needed to impress upon me the hospitality of Georgians. So, when we stopped for a rest stop he bought xatchapuri (Georgian cheesy bread), despite my many refusals, for us to eat during the break. There comes a time in these instances when it is simply easier to acquiesce than to try to refuse. Many times the problem with saying yes to offers of food of conversation with a man is that as a foreign girl it can be perceived as an acceptance of a much larger invitation, i.e. for marriage or other less than PG acts. By the same token, to blatantly ignore the man who had just seen me speaking to another and to refuse his hospitality when he is a man of distinguished standing in the community would be a slight that could ultimately reflect poorly on my friend, the Peace Corps, and America. No pressure, just the entire reputation of my program, country, gender, and friend. It is a fine line that us female volunteers must constantly navigate. Fun fact, having lighter features can also signify to many people one is a woman of less than pure virtue. I realized I was less in danger of procuring a husband accidentally than of being rude, so I ate the cheese bread and had the same conversation with him that I had with the other man a few hours before. I finally feigned sleeping so I could get out of it. Seven hours later I arrived back home with relatively few occurrences, but not none, because nothing is ever normal.<br />
Just another day in the life of a volunteer.</div>
Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-38927061754396318282012-06-12T07:30:00.000-07:002012-06-12T07:31:10.491-07:00Gamarjoba Madame Secretary!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Secretary Hillary Clinton and Ambassador John Bass</td></tr>
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Have you ever met someone to whom you look up to so greatly, that the encounter actually brought you to tears? Well, thanks to a recent visit by none other than Secretary Clinton, I have. In one leg of a 3 country tour in the Caucasus region, Secretary Clinton visited Georgia as part of an ongoing celebration of 20 years of official relations between The United States and the country of Georgia. After her official meetings with Georgian President Saakashvili and other members of the Georgian government, on her last day, she took time to address the Embassy staff and Peace Corps volunteers. In a brief speech to all of us expats she specifically gave a shout out to the Peace Corps. She thanked us for all of the work we are doing on behalf of the nation and said we are "ambassadors" of goodwill and friendship for our nation to others around the world. As I have looked up to this woman for as long as I can remember, this was a particularly special day for me. After her speech she approached all of us on the front row to shake our hands. The volunteer beside me gave a very distinguished "Madame Secretary thank you for your visit." I must have looked like a combination of a deer caught in headlights and a child about to get her first ever Popsicle, because when she proceeded to me she spoke first, asking if I am having fun in my service. Try as I might to remain dignified, I responded with something to the effect of how much I love it, and then proceeded to barely hold back my tears as I told her in a significantly higher pitched voice than I normally communicate with "It's so nice to meet you!" She really was the epitome of charm and grace, and rather than look at me like a weirdo she smiled graciously and was exceedingly friendly. She also informed us when she had moved on to shaking Claire's hand to my left, that she had never eaten so much cheese in her life as she had here in Georgia. We refrained from taking that conversation in the usual direction Peace Corps volunteers have a habit of taking conversations about dairy or food of any type for that matter. She did a few more hand shakes all the while I literally was fighting back my tears of joy. As soon as she left the room I could not contain myself and actually cried! My country director (A.K.A. the big guns of the program here, or better yet, mine and everyone else's boss) gave me his handkerchief. I truly was overcome with joy. Overall it was absolutely amazing!<br />
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</div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-5436197650354793662012-05-07T02:09:00.001-07:002012-05-13T12:36:38.197-07:00Earthquakes, Goodbyes, and Casting Calls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So, I guess the most important thing to mention is I have experienced my first very, very personal loss while serving in the Peace Corps. It is not my first loved one to die since I've been here, a dear friend's mother, to whom I was also very close, passed away when I was still in training. That was devastating enough, even though we weren't technically related. This time, I had to say goodbye to my Grandma Leree. People say that because this is the natural order of things that it is somehow easier to deal with the loss. Intrinsically, I know this must be true, but when it is my own grandmother to whom I must say goodbye, it isn't as simple as the acknowledgement of the "circle of life". This is one of the greatest challenges individuals face when joining the Peace Corps and also our greatest fear. We all dread the call informing us that something terrible has happened to someone we love back home. There is nothing I could have done to have prevented this, again, a fact of which I am well aware. However, being here, without friends from home or family, it yields a sense of powerlessness and isolation that can never really be anticipated until one is in the situation. I do not say these things to solicit sympathy or to scare off potential volunteers. It is a fact of life as a volunteer that I simply wish to point out. I knew when I joined and departed America there was a very real chance one of my grandparents, and maybe even others would not make it through the 2 years. An unfortunate consequence of going off and seeing the world and pursuing one's dreams is the inevitable missing out on so many milestones, both good and bad. I was not there to see my nephews' Christmas pageant, or my baby sister go to the Neches River Festival, or help her get ready for prom, I missed the birth of my best friend's first baby, will not get to attend and be a bridesmaid in a lifelong friend's wedding, was not there for another life long friend's mother's passing, and I was not there to see my Grandmother in her last year on Earth, or to tell her goodbye. I am happy with the path I have chosen for myself, and I knew what I was giving up when I joined, but it doesn't make the loss any easier. I guess for me, one of the greatest challenges with coming to terms with this loss is that I had every intention to go to Kansas and spend some real quality time with my family, as I have not been able to do in years past in university in New York and as a child growing up in Texas. Sure, I have spent time with my family, and my grandma even got to attend my graduation from NYU (the last time I saw her), but I was so looking forward to the little bit of free time I would have after my service ended and the next chapter of my life began where I could learn where it is that I came from, all about our family's history, and just get to know them better. Of course I have plenty of family to still do that with, but there is something about Grandma that was kind of the glue of the operation, and the vacancy she left with always be felt. I wasn't ready to tell her goodbye, but in the end it wasn't really my choice, nor were the circumstances under which she departed. At least with modern technology I was able to speak to my family before she actually passed, and even if for the briefest moment, I did not feel so alone in this difficult time.<br />
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Now on a much lighter note, I would like to inform you, dear reader, that today I experienced a 5.7 earthquake. The epicenter was in Azerbaijan, which as most of you now know, is the border on which I live. At around 8:40 this morning I was startled from my sleep from an intense rattling, and in my delirium felt the Earth shake for I'm guessing close to 30 seconds, but I could be wrong. It is a bizarre thing when your whole world literally shakes beneath you. I have in my life been through hurricanes, tornadoes, a flood, an ice storm, a record breaking blizzard, and now a relatively significant earthquake. It was not significant enough to cause severe damage, but according to this site which tracks earthquakes, it was on the scale to cause some.<br />
This is the local map of where it originated from and Lagodekhi is in the picture. <br />
<a href="http://www.emsc-csem.org/Images/EVID/26/265/265439/265439.local.jpg">http://www.emsc-csem.org/Images/EVID/26/265/265439/265439.local.jpg </a><br />
<br />
Here is all of the information on the quake, should you be interested.<br />
<a href="http://www.emsc-csem.org/Earthquake/earthquake.php?id=265439#">http://www.emsc-csem.org/Earthquake/earthquake.php?id=265439#</a><br />
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<br />
Last weekend, I was in Tbilisi for several committee meetings. On Sunday, the U.S. embassy hosted a concert with Terrence Simian's Zydeco Experience performing. It was a free concert as a celebration marking 20 years of American, Georgian relations. It was honestly one of the most exciting times I have had in the country! There were quite a few Americans there, but there were also loads of Georgians, especially younger Georgians. It felt even more special since Zydeco music feels so close to home, given the strong Cajun influence in Beaumont. For hours, Georgians and Americans alike let loose and danced and just enjoyed the care free atmosphere all together! It truly was a wonderful celebration!<br />
As part of the evening, Goodloe and I decided to get dressed (I dare not say up, but more up than normal), and go to dinner to feel like normal people for a night. As we were leaving the restaurant, a man ran out after us and stopped us. He informed us he is a director and is directing a commercial soon, which he wanted us to be in! It was very tempting, and he called Goodloe later so we could go to the studio. The commercial was for a casino. However, given the economic issues already plaguing this country and the devastating effects casinos can have on people's lives (from individuals to the entire society) and in our positions as volunteers here to promote peace and understanding, we thought it might be a conflict of interest, so we opted out. The main things to take from this last story are: I am still a diva, even when showers are few and far between for me, people still recognize my star power, I'm kind of a big deal, and I've still got it! :)<br />
<br /></div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-71432268279217231342012-04-24T15:08:00.000-07:002012-04-24T15:08:17.006-07:00I'm a Celebrity! On the local news!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I</div>
<br /></div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-79774602680583220972012-04-24T11:42:00.001-07:002012-04-24T11:55:21.023-07:00ქრისტე აღსდგა! (Christ has risen!), ჭეშმარიტად! (Truly has risen!)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Easter this year in Georgia
was on Sunday April 15 (the week after the day in America),
according to the Orthodox calendar. To
me, it felt as though Easter was as a big of a deal, if not bigger than
Christmas is here. Lint begins around the
same time as it does for those who follow those traditions in America. However, it is not the same as just giving up
something one cares about in respect of Jesus’ sacrifice. It is a more concrete foregoing of certain
food products for the duration of Lint that the more devout Georgians observe. Most of the individuals I
encountered said they could not eat meat the entire time, versus only on Friday
for Catholics. Dairy products were also
primarily not allowed, and the consumption of alcohol was limited to a few
glasses of wine a week (depending on who you asked). In an effort to somewhat take part in the
tradition I abstained from drinking all dark soda (and only drank a sprite
twice). This of course
is the Catholic way of practicing Lint, but I wouldn’t be able to survive on
potatoes and bread alone for 40 days. </div>
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The Thursday and Friday before Easter we were let out of
school. Many individuals went to church
on that Wednesday, although I’m not sure I ever entirely figured out why. Then, midnight
on Saturday is the main time to attend church in observance of Jesus’
resurrection. When greeting individuals on Easter Sunday you do not simply say
“Hello”, but rather “<span style="font-family: Sylfaen;">ქრისტე</span> <span style="font-family: Sylfaen;">აღსდგა</span>!” (Christ has risen!), to which one responds with “<span style="font-family: Sylfaen;">ჭეშმარიტად</span>!”
(Truly has risen!).</div>
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Eggs are died red and only red from the branches of a fruit
tree, and onion leaves. The red
represents Christ’s blood. My host mom
decorated the eggs the day before Easter. She made designs, only in
a different way than to which we are accustomed. She took children’s modeling clay and made
designs on the eggs with it. Then she
boiled the eggs in the aforementioned produce mixture and wherever the clay was
stayed white. It worked much like the white crayon we write with on eggs.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished product on the Supra table.</td></tr>
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The day or two before Easter, a special cake is made by virtually
every woman in the country, called Pasca.
It is only made for Easter, as my neighbor explained to me, that you
don’t want it any other time of year. It
was the best treat I have eaten yet in this country- as most people know I am
not particularly fond of treats and I ate 5 or 6 pieces in 2 days! It is not
very sweet, with a taste comparable to an unsweetened cupcake or panettone. There are different variations, and
one of the other versions I ate tasted quite like a cinnamon roll- again
without all the icing. Some of them have
dried fruit pieces throughout, nuts, or both.
I am not keen on dried fruit typically, but I loved it in these little
cakes. There are different ways to make
them, but the gist is evidently a large amount of yeast (which I surmise is
symbolic of Christ’s rising). They
can be made in a regular oven, but the traditional way is in a large brick
oven. My family has one, so it was a day for us to spend time with the neighbors as they prepared their cakes in our
oven. </div>
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1.) First they get a roaring fire in
the oven. </div>
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2.)Then, they clean away all of the fire trash, let it cool, and then
put the doughy cakes in different metal containers into the oven. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for the Oven</td></tr>
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3.) They cover the opening and let the cakes sit
in the oven for about 20 minutes. My
host mom was literally in the oven which hours later was still exceedingly hot
putting them into position. Then 25
minutes later we were able to eat them and they were fully cooked through! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqYMJSExoACIV88QH4AmRrGvyM-fcjcDy-jJIwbLiZDdZuZbs6A77F0zzkfwc92KpPvhFfbg6Phrzm2bOlC7U8C5DlEt44pGvK_MudfgJhpzBxThV1wLQZhEX3GbnaqxjHCuZrcfhLWNs/s1600/P1010611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqYMJSExoACIV88QH4AmRrGvyM-fcjcDy-jJIwbLiZDdZuZbs6A77F0zzkfwc92KpPvhFfbg6Phrzm2bOlC7U8C5DlEt44pGvK_MudfgJhpzBxThV1wLQZhEX3GbnaqxjHCuZrcfhLWNs/s320/P1010611.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My neighbor and host mom. :)</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/AVvXsEjjOTftND5km1hLTX8eBSYflQ-SiwQSHT3sZ5J4NiFEIcw_nkSjNOtTp1DL34wC4zKcSCeabqDYZfLHpSU3ERwzRhhp-ONqVhkkROJtqR817djHO5XKl6ZL6bADy15HffA72fUpaG00Bnl0/s1600/P1010610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjOTftND5km1hLTX8eBSYflQ-SiwQSHT3sZ5J4NiFEIcw_nkSjNOtTp1DL34wC4zKcSCeabqDYZfLHpSU3ERwzRhhp-ONqVhkkROJtqR817djHO5XKl6ZL6bADy15HffA72fUpaG00Bnl0/s320/P1010610.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My neighbor taking the cakes out of the tins (post-oven).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table 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/AVvXsEhOeKBPqiqUTla9XpdlQkzH9M-CkeIxBwsJ309pM277sgNDhbV8_Re3h8pJFDl0SDa3i9nT0aBia5KcZoxe0fn-b6bT6Go7fymFB0y0CxyAtN5CrAYgYTIIEZii6A3Te_Ve8U0QOAlVXJYU/s1600/P1010614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeKBPqiqUTla9XpdlQkzH9M-CkeIxBwsJ309pM277sgNDhbV8_Re3h8pJFDl0SDa3i9nT0aBia5KcZoxe0fn-b6bT6Go7fymFB0y0CxyAtN5CrAYgYTIIEZii6A3Te_Ve8U0QOAlVXJYU/s320/P1010614.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The little cylindrical ones are my favorite.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmM3mdg1Z11bfTCimr3qykK22lG78w8ixN77buKxKa89QCwqndeE8OU56SB28Uep-8zZkQegqrSNYQsD_vF_5GYVPCjAqEI5ki5_ObLhtL5RUaJ-mSKp26ZjEw_xfT8Jwkx7UfBMYfYZNV/s1600/P1010612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmM3mdg1Z11bfTCimr3qykK22lG78w8ixN77buKxKa89QCwqndeE8OU56SB28Uep-8zZkQegqrSNYQsD_vF_5GYVPCjAqEI5ki5_ObLhtL5RUaJ-mSKp26ZjEw_xfT8Jwkx7UfBMYfYZNV/s320/P1010612.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The larger ones taste somewhat like cinnamon rolls.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdZfo_LRDJyYY7FAtRPkhuiBDTkCWtPnPLJnjsEuYEx94TWN2xk8033hrQSNvrOpUYaLW7AY0BCQb-1TL45Y7_EpapZpOpWyDWw99nGJpfcPAl6PLvrTWFh8nmsU8NdtJ7JCL85s6XBu2/s1600/P1010618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdZfo_LRDJyYY7FAtRPkhuiBDTkCWtPnPLJnjsEuYEx94TWN2xk8033hrQSNvrOpUYaLW7AY0BCQb-1TL45Y7_EpapZpOpWyDWw99nGJpfcPAl6PLvrTWFh8nmsU8NdtJ7JCL85s6XBu2/s320/P1010618.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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In the evening on Easter Sunday, we had a large Supra. My host dad was the Tamada (toast master) at
one head of the table, and I was the Moadgile(literally second place, but
essentially I was the Supra’s first mate) at the other end of the table. Because I am a girl the rules usually don’t
apply to me and I can participate as I please in the toasts and the rest of the
Supra rituals. It is an interesting
position to be in as an American woman.
We are never viewed in the same way as Georgian women, and very often we
are treated as somewhat sort of the guys.
My host dad is very loving and protective of me and eager to share the
Georgian culture with me whenever he can.
So, although traditionally women do not attend Supras with only men, with
my host father I am able to participate when it is just his friends and
him. At Easter dinner, I was therefore
already acquainted with all of the men, and I guess they decided I have
graduated to following the guidelines a little more exactly, although I am
still a girl. Every time my host father
gave a toast, I was to repeat or reiterate its basic meaning followed by the
traditional “Garmarjos” (men typically are the only ones who address the entire table in toasts- women will usually only say them to each other more quietly). This is their
version of “Cheers” and it literally translates to victory. The Tamada is the first person to drink the
wine, and the Moadgili is the second. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXk6Sv4CrgtODatQqCKdMTp76z1aJrhqtoKKHmW9MHZsZd2JwBWUYvS9xy8jH9SD4uaAQoWJ7YRqgTqPNw_ryyDWXbXPJ05DWfoTVIPQXV83xeIALHnEmGD0wQUA2p0jdVUdBf1m_bSABZ/s1600/P1010623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXk6Sv4CrgtODatQqCKdMTp76z1aJrhqtoKKHmW9MHZsZd2JwBWUYvS9xy8jH9SD4uaAQoWJ7YRqgTqPNw_ryyDWXbXPJ05DWfoTVIPQXV83xeIALHnEmGD0wQUA2p0jdVUdBf1m_bSABZ/s320/P1010623.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host father Givi at the head of the table.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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No
one else at the table is permitted to partake of their wine until these two
individuals have taken a drink first. I
was very unaccustomed to this practice, especially since I usually can just do
whatever I want at the Supras. Repeatedly
I had other guests prodding me to at least take a sip of my wine so they could
drink. At one point one man for probably
the fifth time implored me to drink and then my host mom immediately told me to
first wait for my host father. It was
all very confusing, and I was learning as I went along, so I messed up a
lot. Mostly I just provided free
entertainment for the guests, and everyone continues to enjoy talking to the
Americans at the table. Despite my
repeated flubs, it was my most enjoyed Supra yet. Perhaps it is because as my language
continues to improve so too does my enjoyment of participating in the
festivities, but also this was the moment that I felt like one day I will look
back on remember I was truly acting as a member of this society. I wholly felt like a part of the family and
not as much as a foreigner or outsider anymore.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaq0eZ_sBvdnBjdmEk5DwnX-jvJQs9HzECKReZQyDGPTqBaQZvvPF7MooAsfZFuucnB1YK056m4lnPltyTYWKqB3ZWcAoOyFfhJliSa_0_SVD76gTsXNaHE-PVV75DqFQRvGgmoJ4eqgPu/s1600/P1010624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaq0eZ_sBvdnBjdmEk5DwnX-jvJQs9HzECKReZQyDGPTqBaQZvvPF7MooAsfZFuucnB1YK056m4lnPltyTYWKqB3ZWcAoOyFfhJliSa_0_SVD76gTsXNaHE-PVV75DqFQRvGgmoJ4eqgPu/s320/P1010624.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host mother Ketino on the right.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSPUm0QiI3NkhEO8v-phJV73cGzwsu6YReE6CaEzWQDg9hxZOTsF9Ea_RLB3p-7k3E1B9eDM5sXVOM4gjpGgZPdYw-9a0WdT-ENZWORN1Yvz7UnEuCQgz0lu8Tv8qk-jNNxlT7HmPPyx9T/s1600/P1010627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSPUm0QiI3NkhEO8v-phJV73cGzwsu6YReE6CaEzWQDg9hxZOTsF9Ea_RLB3p-7k3E1B9eDM5sXVOM4gjpGgZPdYw-9a0WdT-ENZWORN1Yvz7UnEuCQgz0lu8Tv8qk-jNNxlT7HmPPyx9T/s320/P1010627.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGRbYancGc_MBrkr0E1E7dnayDSUywHeth17AZierUnw5bAFw0bclYWHV9SL8I1uutywK3anqtmO44Oh7MeCNHpfOUgaWmPzEAL6OgKeooqqaFO-LNYiikhDS0qTmfO08481AnU0O0rYJv/s1600/P1010626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGRbYancGc_MBrkr0E1E7dnayDSUywHeth17AZierUnw5bAFw0bclYWHV9SL8I1uutywK3anqtmO44Oh7MeCNHpfOUgaWmPzEAL6OgKeooqqaFO-LNYiikhDS0qTmfO08481AnU0O0rYJv/s320/P1010626.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6SCOV3krul59VTvzdMMHFmvqbBwSHt6nV6OUewW2s1LzyAuTYJ4qrDfiWQ_UwRWdeH6lbH8FMGSj0ffiVadcxE1qMgR4WOBh30gXYCn8Sz9pSRuuRvuhMAH5zAHpQYhcsxksbiiZNkqV/s1600/P1010634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6SCOV3krul59VTvzdMMHFmvqbBwSHt6nV6OUewW2s1LzyAuTYJ4qrDfiWQ_UwRWdeH6lbH8FMGSj0ffiVadcxE1qMgR4WOBh30gXYCn8Sz9pSRuuRvuhMAH5zAHpQYhcsxksbiiZNkqV/s320/P1010634.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQM8HlLeu5HTy-kyto-Yk3nt8tpbcy4qsA768_eEDkfPTYgfkrmj_gABpLP6gysdUnW529UCXPAt2Wt7Q3hMmhVAhxueqAvJ3ba3c-o_qW56EGzIGrCXtrUCstsAjp33sc1k9wkdnq9Om3/s1600/P1010636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQM8HlLeu5HTy-kyto-Yk3nt8tpbcy4qsA768_eEDkfPTYgfkrmj_gABpLP6gysdUnW529UCXPAt2Wt7Q3hMmhVAhxueqAvJ3ba3c-o_qW56EGzIGrCXtrUCstsAjp33sc1k9wkdnq9Om3/s320/P1010636.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo12zCxjX0DsVVgG2E0QzsnJpo3C4oAKlI_hkVeiNndC84NVYcbJhDD755Sgs762PVIqps1gl1cUtAqpIG0HiU-KyXlsjd3etiUAGlfx4ZPg8qivDp3rHvCkzhtSMkYJ7RAOQyL9iwef9C/s1600/P1010637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo12zCxjX0DsVVgG2E0QzsnJpo3C4oAKlI_hkVeiNndC84NVYcbJhDD755Sgs762PVIqps1gl1cUtAqpIG0HiU-KyXlsjd3etiUAGlfx4ZPg8qivDp3rHvCkzhtSMkYJ7RAOQyL9iwef9C/s320/P1010637.JPG" width="240" /></a></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/AVvXsEhKo5kVj41rPT2qPE7SUHPGACmh4g3kAMGaP4KuCSDEpOzCkRlNT3NWUDcmbhTt1EAahy6JGe0osJt4bnBjdJN42nr8kWU-1NdaRsRevOn2l3kUMNvr7_24RNIFdPAFE09sqlbzsw1BnRhj/s1600/P1010643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKo5kVj41rPT2qPE7SUHPGACmh4g3kAMGaP4KuCSDEpOzCkRlNT3NWUDcmbhTt1EAahy6JGe0osJt4bnBjdJN42nr8kWU-1NdaRsRevOn2l3kUMNvr7_24RNIFdPAFE09sqlbzsw1BnRhj/s320/P1010643.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host brother Dato on the right.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Goodloe was a guest at my house for Easter. For certain toasts, which again I have never
fully figured out which ones or why they choose to do this, two individuals
will link arms and drink their wine this way.
In a toast that particularly related to Goodloe and me, we were prompted
to do this. We obliged, everyone clapped
and all was well. However, they subsequently all
began telling us to kiss. You have to
understand that although at times we now have the language abilities to have the most in-depth conversations,
on a dime conversations can turn and the language barrier is as if we just
arrived in country. This was foreign
territory and neither of us understood what they were getting at or why. Many people believe us when we say we are
only friends, although male and female friendships, not in a big group, are rare
once you are of marrying age i.e. post pubescent. We both smiled and laughed along and told
them no and grew progressively more confused.
Even if they thought we were an item we didn’t understand why they would
want us to kiss as PDA is also not common here, even among married
couples. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDoY1VJ10u1FEiMF_RAgwNQBUytOcxTGw4DVwv0tOG_nogD3IfzsMau6_aokuJO59LEXn5Oqn6d2o5r-1RLz_xzKr_EtxQznDXHqeKigkz3xnLzRHHsR_GjY1UikFL60gXqpBQZrXpHiGz/s1600/P1010625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDoY1VJ10u1FEiMF_RAgwNQBUytOcxTGw4DVwv0tOG_nogD3IfzsMau6_aokuJO59LEXn5Oqn6d2o5r-1RLz_xzKr_EtxQznDXHqeKigkz3xnLzRHHsR_GjY1UikFL60gXqpBQZrXpHiGz/s320/P1010625.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Eventually my host mother, who
was coming and going the whole meal refilling plates and tending to the guests,
explained that when friends do such a toast, which has a greater meaning tied
to it, then everyone always kisses each other on the cheek 3 times. People kiss their friends here, male and
female, almost every time they see one another so it made sense. Men and women both young and old are
significantly more touchy feely and affectionate with each other all the
time here than I have ever experienced in the West. So while relationshipy PDA is
scant, hyper-affection among friends is routine. We once again obliged and the toast was
officially concluded, but not before I blushed more than I ever have in my
entire life!</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQkpeJtOdw0ronvmGLFDY5iyyFEgD7Dshl0KLLMlEmotbuZF_swrzeS7rGGmfTstkalcJzImy0Gvg-8rPCZLJD5JA173fyDMVBXY9w8jmGZ5EngO_W6AdlpSuD4ssKBISXaBQbxLkFKRt/s1600/P1010620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQkpeJtOdw0ronvmGLFDY5iyyFEgD7Dshl0KLLMlEmotbuZF_swrzeS7rGGmfTstkalcJzImy0Gvg-8rPCZLJD5JA173fyDMVBXY9w8jmGZ5EngO_W6AdlpSuD4ssKBISXaBQbxLkFKRt/s320/P1010620.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She keeps me on top of the rules of the customs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2zYoH-Q8U9849dArv4SJUCYs30cY8byoLE1YgsJNCz9reutpAYhrB1BzTidcnkCM0pY0PDeMEDI0FDGTgn77O5QB_mk__hVkkmPMLXazNQlE_JjJmnp6O_OVXOtbOf1WQtSSgLBed3RCp/s1600/P1010629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2zYoH-Q8U9849dArv4SJUCYs30cY8byoLE1YgsJNCz9reutpAYhrB1BzTidcnkCM0pY0PDeMEDI0FDGTgn77O5QB_mk__hVkkmPMLXazNQlE_JjJmnp6O_OVXOtbOf1WQtSSgLBed3RCp/s320/P1010629.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wish you could actually see how red <br />
I was!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The friendship toast with my host papa!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think he's saying "See, it's the tradition."</td></tr>
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Last anecdote: They
play a fun little game with the boiled egg where you smack the egg on the egg
of someone else’s and the person whose cracks, eats it.
I don’t really know why, but it’s a fun way to crack them nonetheless. <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">:)</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Tamada is not to pour the wine, it is actually another designated position, although it usually gets spread around to multiple men.</td></tr>
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</div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-21278148849192352002012-04-10T15:07:00.001-07:002012-04-10T15:11:47.511-07:00A Day in the Life...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">There is nothing typical about life in Peace Corps Georgia, but here is what passes for ordinary- enjoy.<br />
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8:00 - Wake up. For no reason. Look at my phone and try very, very hard to comprehend why I would be awake at such an hour. Decide I have no reason to get out of bed before absolutely necessary, roll over, and attempt to go back to sleep. Something about knowing I have to get up in the next two hours always makes going back to sleep a challenge for me.<br />
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9:15 - I finally start slipping into a relaxed sleep.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">9:20 - Alarm goes off. The nice British lady, who is inside my phone, politely tells me it is 9:20 and time to get up. I hit snooze.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">9:25 - I know I will get no pleasure out of snoozing this late in the game so I reluctantly roll out of bed before she comes back to tell me it is ten minutes later than the last time we spoke.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">9:30 - Get dressed, brush teeth with bottled water, take a baby wipe bath, traipse downstairs to the outside loo (we may not have running water for the next two months, so the upstairs facility is out of commission until further notice- it’s not much fun to lug sufficient amount of water for flushing up and down the stairs everyday- shocking I know), sing some jams while I continue to get dressed upstairs, dawdle, sing some more, use up the rest of my dry shampoo (perfect timing on the water breakdown), add baby powder to my do for good measure, and head downstairs for good.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">9:50 – Call Claire. Part of both of our morning ritual is calling the other as we are frantically make our way from our houses to our schools just in the nick of time. I refill my water bottle from my filter, and put my two boiled eggs, which are waiting on the table for me when I come downstairs every morning (because my host parents love me, and want to ensure I don’t starve to death after I think they figured out I was never going to get up early enough to cook for myself), and head out the door. I New York stride to work and got their just in time for the bell, which actually means I’m still technically early as no one is in the classroom until after the bell.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">9:55 – I have the pleasure, nay, the privilege of starting my day off every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday with teenagers! These teenagers are my 10<sup>th</sup> graders. The one thing I have going for me is half of them believe they will be pro footballers some day and thus cannot be bothered to go to class most days. I do not encourage truancy, but at least it makes the class size more manageable and lends the classroom to an actual learning environment when most of the students there actually want to be, or at least feel it is an important enough use of their time. Today they are eerily quiet, even though most of the aforementioned students are actually here today. I think having Monday off yesterday (to commemorate the Tbilisi Massacre) and knowing we only have school tomorrow until Easter break begins must have a subduing effect on them. Today we are working on a surprise for my big sister’s class in America! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">10:45 – 7<sup>th</sup> grade. This class is comprised of 31 kids all stuck in the middle. They are a lot of work, even with two teachers in the room, but I actually greatly enjoy this class. I feel they are one of the classes where I have the most opportunity to have an impact on the English learning in the future, as well as their true understanding of American culture and work ethic. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">11:35 – “Jana Mas!” “Jana Mas!” “Jana Mas!” This is their way of saying “Ms. Price”, (Mastsavlebeli is teacher in Georgian) and anytime they have an issue it is all I hear. Many “one minutes” follow. Fighting and shoving commences over who is in whose seat. Tears flow. The offended students are upset because they want to sit as close to me as possible. I’m not going to lie, I kind of relish in how big of a deal I am, even if it is to 10 year olds. Everyone is ordered to the back of the room. I tell students to randomly choose a number between one and six, the number of rows in our room, and assign seats randomly according to these numbers. Everyone seems to be happy in the end. No more tears for the rest of the day. I realize at the end of the lesson that we do not have a lesson tomorrow, and will thus not get to do our Easter lesson before Easter, but oh well.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">12:20 – Seniors’ abilities to stay focused on school is not just a thing in America. However, senioritis for Georgian students is American senioritis on steroids. There are few good things to say about a class full of know it all teenagers who pretty much downright refuse to do anything we ask of them. I use this time to prepare for my after school classes with students who actually want to learn from me. Word on the street is these students used to be one of the best and most dedicated classes in the school, but I have never seen anything but the exact opposite; like I said, senioritis on steroids. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">1:00 – My counterpart and I have a brief meeting discussing the meeting we would like to have tomorrow with our town’s mayor about the project we are trying to kick off. Fingers crossed it all works out! Details to follow. I eat my breakfast finally, as I did not have time during the breaks due to the Jana Mas symphony. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">1:10 – I work out a few more activities I will do in my after school clubs and leave school. I cannot do the collage activity I want to do, because we do not have a classroom pair of scissors and the last time we borrowed some from my director she apparently had very important working that required cutting at that exact moment, and we were later screamed at for using them in our lesson.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">2:00 – The adult English class I teach twice a week at an NGO in my town actually begins on time. I used our class never starting on time as an example last week, just to show the different times to use prepositions in time speech, but it may have been a subtle hint, that I had not even intended. Subtlety isn’t my strong suit as most of my peeps can attest to, so it really was innocent, but it seems to have worked nonetheless which is O.K. with me. I look forward to these classes every week perhaps more than any others. For one, teaching adults is much different than teaching children. Not that I don’t love the kids in school, but the exhaustion level is much lower after working with grown-ups. Also, I have about 20% of the number of students in my school lessons as I do in my adult class- fewer students always equals teacher’s relief. We continue studying daily routines and times, and the glory that is the existence of “do/does” in our language, which has no equivalent in Georgian.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">3:00 – Some of the students who come to my youth English club at the organization also attend a computer class at the same facility. The students come in and tell us the computer teacher did not have lessons yesterday and informed them they are having it today. Of course no mention of this was made to me prior to the 5 minutes before beginning the club. Time to begin. No computer teacher after all. We go on as usual. Normally there are close to 20 kids in the club, but today there are only 9. It is a holiday week so I am not too upset by it. They are all very active and engaged in the class/ activities, which feels nice. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">3:30 – 8:00 – I go to a fellow Western English teacher’s house who works for the Georgian program Teach and Learn Georgia. The program aims to have as many native speakers in the country as possible, I think with the idea that if there are loads of English speakers running about, it is bound to transfer to the country nationals. He teaches at the 3<sup>rd</sup> school in town, and I at the 1<sup>st</sup>. There are rules against the overlapping in organizations of our two programs. We get to his house and discuss how long we will be able to handle the water shortage with a smile on our faces. His host mom has everyone in the house round up as many empty water bottles as they can find and sends his host brother to a tap in the park, which apparently still has running water, with a wheel barrow full of said bottles. We eat beans which may or may not have been made from the illusive tap water, have no immediate side effects, and decide the water might be alright, at least cooked into food. His host brother, one of my students, after much prodding, begins his English homework for the night. Close to an hour later, I have helped him write his 10 sentences using present simple tense with two verbs in each. It is cruel for a teacher to encounter any students after teaching all day long. Cruel. After being cornered by his host sister, who is in the other 10<sup>th</sup> grade class, as to why I do not teach her class, and kindly explaining to her I do not make the schedule which disables me from working with more than one teacher, I decide it is time to head home.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">8:20 - The TLG and I stop to say our goodbyes on the main street, as he was kind enough to walk me home in the dark. Three men approach him and are speaking with him as they have spoken before. We both surmise they have been drinking as they are all stumbling, struggling to keep their eyes open, and not all together making sense with their conversation. Despite the content of one of the man’s speech not entirely being all aboard the coherent train, his grammar was excellent. He informed my friend that he does not ever drink alcohol, which can only leave other things to the imagination. Who knows? After 5 minutes of rather unintelligible conversation, a fellow local is kind enough to interrupt and we make our get away. Once we arrive at my house, we discuss what we tried to speak about before on the main street. Another man comes stumbling up to us asking for the head of the house. The ether on this one’s breath is unmistakable and is easily detected from 6 feet away. I understand his Georgian perfectly well, but pretend not to as I have no idea who this questionable character is, and sometimes if I pretend not to understand people in situations like that they will just move along on their merry way. He is persistent. When he switches to Russian to say what I have already understood in Georgian, I go get my host father. Apparently, he was buying something to do with agriculture, but I couldn’t quite work out what my host parents were talking about.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">8:25 – I sit with my host mother and have a nice conversation about our days and this and that. We always end up talking about history in our long talks and how things used to be here. I continue to be amazed. We saw Trump on T.V. and his plans to take over this country as well, and discussed the merits of that venture, as well as the continued government push and economic support of all things related to tourism, while people still struggle to get by from month to month on their salaries and pensions. I am not asserting my opinion on the matter, merely relaying what we were discussing. It is a complex issue, but I do feel for those still struggling so greatly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">9:50 – Finally make my way back to my room. Talk on the phone for about 30 minutes doing my daily recap with my BFF.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">10:35 – Begin the 15 minute Ab Ripper X portion of P90X.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">10:50 – Confirm what I already knew to be true, that Georgian mineral water, while absolutely amazing, is not an appropriate method of hydration when working out, and I must go refill my water bottle.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">10:52 – Begin the hour long Arms and Back portion of P90X. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">11:52 – Decide my body could not hurt in more places than it does right now. Have my final nightly recap with Claire.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">11:55- Practice the guitar, though not as much as I’d like, but in the interest of typing this here post for you kind folks, I had to cut my time short.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">2:00 – Finally finish this literary masterpiece. Goodnight.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-81075824537189098832012-02-18T11:38:00.002-08:002012-03-01T00:06:31.579-08:00Kartuli Graffiti<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I have always had an appreciation for graffiti that goes beyond blasting one's opposition crew or declaring __ was here. I think in its own right, it can very often be considered art, especially when it is found on temporary walls and does not permanently deface anything. Mom, I know at this point you are probably like "Seriously Jana?" and are ready to call and tell me how wrong I am, but take a look at all of this amazing art first. :)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't know- but it seems poignant</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1gkIVGctaDarxrd5XfYVHZD0rQvuEJVjNI3YruiZ1qIwH-KcjqcVCdj-zwb7EWBACHQLZMx4n4edaHSAjL2w9xTFjPrsL2iNJZrM3Gs2VYzuOOa5NN7mqh1TdYTB_mpq5VBbtnK7-CFc0/s1600/Georgiaround2+020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1gkIVGctaDarxrd5XfYVHZD0rQvuEJVjNI3YruiZ1qIwH-KcjqcVCdj-zwb7EWBACHQLZMx4n4edaHSAjL2w9xTFjPrsL2iNJZrM3Gs2VYzuOOa5NN7mqh1TdYTB_mpq5VBbtnK7-CFc0/s320/Georgiaround2+020.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie Chaplin</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite Ninja Turtle!! This was in the stairwell of Goodloe's host family's apartment in Tbilisi.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ujXNvXkfLBY1Ym0ZTvVge25_Fth8K1Z0xCLXzuwJeUJeUJs3XUegPtGT97TdaQXcjEMJl44EViuahWMTC5nBwnqDp9xWfR9aCfoAf2-z4dECJcElI9gCrJ-IR46xoqex9S3qfNK7vUTn/s1600/DSCN0593%5B1%5D" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ujXNvXkfLBY1Ym0ZTvVge25_Fth8K1Z0xCLXzuwJeUJeUJs3XUegPtGT97TdaQXcjEMJl44EViuahWMTC5nBwnqDp9xWfR9aCfoAf2-z4dECJcElI9gCrJ-IR46xoqex9S3qfNK7vUTn/s320/DSCN0593%5B1%5D" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">O.K. not exactly art, but you find these type of individuals celebrated all over the place, which I find notable. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqxuAuMVtMw9UiS01DDkNDIHQEpbI95Tgrmczy9ZZCtY2DCXnvIt_Pp-iHsr0gGOGaYiaok5zpjDbw4Vhy1gbFS8Cg41Q7qBA5GhBhvMy-n5Bd1IIFcgxWdNTTeoBmpNwTXV0tPWr0Rg-/s1600/DSCN0367%5B1%5D" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqxuAuMVtMw9UiS01DDkNDIHQEpbI95Tgrmczy9ZZCtY2DCXnvIt_Pp-iHsr0gGOGaYiaok5zpjDbw4Vhy1gbFS8Cg41Q7qBA5GhBhvMy-n5Bd1IIFcgxWdNTTeoBmpNwTXV0tPWr0Rg-/s320/DSCN0367%5B1%5D" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love superheroes!</td></tr>
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</div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-87029445754494889172012-02-18T04:12:00.001-08:002012-02-29T23:31:09.396-08:00Winter Rages On!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It snowed on Thanksgiving, the weather was milder, but nonetheless cold on Christmas and New Year's. Then it snowed again on Valentine's Day. It was -12 degrees Celsius here the other day, which is in the teens in Fahrenheit. In America, it isn't that big of a deal because we have adequate heating. Here on the other hand, it hurts...down to the bone. I didn't know what cold was until I spent weeks on end in an uninsulated house without heat in below freezing temperatures! My one consolation is, it really is beautiful!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgro64kUP0JRnxrnI68hy32eOtiZ4iZNJT0sanTm3T8X2A4xq1og-9-IOg4nr4GYlwATAiqPE4Z1gZfkl9L3lZHTfqfFb0dDVPr3VC85xj4B1rvf8nIWMoNcQ3MNoMveEzIy8UIgHgRGFcN/s1600/Georgiaround2+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgro64kUP0JRnxrnI68hy32eOtiZ4iZNJT0sanTm3T8X2A4xq1og-9-IOg4nr4GYlwATAiqPE4Z1gZfkl9L3lZHTfqfFb0dDVPr3VC85xj4B1rvf8nIWMoNcQ3MNoMveEzIy8UIgHgRGFcN/s400/Georgiaround2+002.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love My Counterpart</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKKSQKOW1jZc1ybIzvL1bMuHHPHbl_L_GYkltZKYfQ191BDMlmIFp1kyTvov3qu8KswYK4l7YCKyKW1fgwiUjOX1hGOCs-vgwAsKrNuolvZ9FKwEV5b_qEPEzqrkDNCJ-BFc7eJMXF87m8/s1600/Georgiaround2+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKKSQKOW1jZc1ybIzvL1bMuHHPHbl_L_GYkltZKYfQ191BDMlmIFp1kyTvov3qu8KswYK4l7YCKyKW1fgwiUjOX1hGOCs-vgwAsKrNuolvZ9FKwEV5b_qEPEzqrkDNCJ-BFc7eJMXF87m8/s400/Georgiaround2+001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Us in Front of School</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhns-zxd6Ni9uvzMgBdCmiDtBCO07pOuX1oPcy_VQaYv8c0g5iAtkglkgLv_EUDRef4m3aOM8tauHDEDriB5gydqwEwIjuvykbeEuoWkONUGFVgtg_VwrTypi-1L2XU5EZL3hKZtOYgJIQH/s1600/Georgiaround2+023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhns-zxd6Ni9uvzMgBdCmiDtBCO07pOuX1oPcy_VQaYv8c0g5iAtkglkgLv_EUDRef4m3aOM8tauHDEDriB5gydqwEwIjuvykbeEuoWkONUGFVgtg_VwrTypi-1L2XU5EZL3hKZtOYgJIQH/s320/Georgiaround2+023.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the secretary's room- it's snowed a few feet since this picture</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjckF1RK65_FFORjnh_uxURjL4tY4mXMrQ5jLrGYz0l0pA7b1_uMFpaWuZGTUf_qDi2ZvcE32yZJMh1AQZt1rIQjPQoxLK0eqzUhI2OU40kyAgc_zMoLBD61ITe2ZeJg_fj5atMqz-668g/s1600/Georgiaround2+024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjckF1RK65_FFORjnh_uxURjL4tY4mXMrQ5jLrGYz0l0pA7b1_uMFpaWuZGTUf_qDi2ZvcE32yZJMh1AQZt1rIQjPQoxLK0eqzUhI2OU40kyAgc_zMoLBD61ITe2ZeJg_fj5atMqz-668g/s320/Georgiaround2+024.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the tap at my house that constantly runs which has frozen into a solid mass.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Uftg8ezmqSQQoeO7xZmSGZuAcMFX9EgzUKsojQQuvImTM4Ud7lkESjWaDDcXZh8AnkdC0tfLlqx9Fa5yqw9xlByccnGuqc0S6rtr73ef85B4-V_641MjF5f_w-2zFjKD1qV8AeZYgFL1/s1600/Georgiaround2+026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Uftg8ezmqSQQoeO7xZmSGZuAcMFX9EgzUKsojQQuvImTM4Ud7lkESjWaDDcXZh8AnkdC0tfLlqx9Fa5yqw9xlByccnGuqc0S6rtr73ef85B4-V_641MjF5f_w-2zFjKD1qV8AeZYgFL1/s320/Georgiaround2+026.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My family's maghazia on the right and my house on the left.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHk1e4L11M-XTSmO5GHc15UEOoTdj1SS_4MqC4lZM8bAEZcFZb04ZEC159Wz8LcFm51TC878zgRLQZOfAw5-rmgccVws8RLHbMYTvY7rhnEKlFEzor7qH2J_-l0rGqFafziM2Ha7H7gn5G/s1600/Georgiaround2+025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHk1e4L11M-XTSmO5GHc15UEOoTdj1SS_4MqC4lZM8bAEZcFZb04ZEC159Wz8LcFm51TC878zgRLQZOfAw5-rmgccVws8RLHbMYTvY7rhnEKlFEzor7qH2J_-l0rGqFafziM2Ha7H7gn5G/s320/Georgiaround2+025.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View down my street.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAz1wfzERL6MGpPfVq78xDeCEIgWD3aGMG4J2cCf6k6j-GZsfE5gwWousDLxa5Mhq77ctEzeWIxvSAMYetwgMWEavdQHZ1WCdTQzR8AGJ1ATGLF8ZQefEqgBfcB0ufBqKu-B8GQP0huYwy/s1600/Georgiaround2+028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAz1wfzERL6MGpPfVq78xDeCEIgWD3aGMG4J2cCf6k6j-GZsfE5gwWousDLxa5Mhq77ctEzeWIxvSAMYetwgMWEavdQHZ1WCdTQzR8AGJ1ATGLF8ZQefEqgBfcB0ufBqKu-B8GQP0huYwy/s320/Georgiaround2+028.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcmA0L6IwA8qxO8zUcAz5lAzL7bxL4sQ82EiHxHGVgGFIjln96ON2ACO-xIKAwj3V-4AF-5mS295dKPqjPD8gyKuZJ0tki9e8v4ybIQDsBF_tc9gpuAwv9UNHMBtBUb0MeZTCjRYkY001/s1600/Georgiaround2+027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcmA0L6IwA8qxO8zUcAz5lAzL7bxL4sQ82EiHxHGVgGFIjln96ON2ACO-xIKAwj3V-4AF-5mS295dKPqjPD8gyKuZJ0tki9e8v4ybIQDsBF_tc9gpuAwv9UNHMBtBUb0MeZTCjRYkY001/s320/Georgiaround2+027.jpg" width="240" /></a></div> These are some of the largest icicles I have ever seen! They are like this everywhere around! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7VmQ5qGcKksE1i49JbFpOYAJcNnxCJ4VyRidD2jJh9TYgHDSlDZyKo16tnxPt8tKJ8aM36tE-d5e6oVgS8qi22W1l2-WGijr2lvsmCRjpgK0BU0DSg8GLGQ5gWcLM0j6LqkskQ1FJdpsX/s1600/Georgiaround2+029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7VmQ5qGcKksE1i49JbFpOYAJcNnxCJ4VyRidD2jJh9TYgHDSlDZyKo16tnxPt8tKJ8aM36tE-d5e6oVgS8qi22W1l2-WGijr2lvsmCRjpgK0BU0DSg8GLGQ5gWcLM0j6LqkskQ1FJdpsX/s320/Georgiaround2+029.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJG3JOwYZnRm3LiO2JAv25s1PHTLFP4edTacy2f8iQvIod6pv9DtpZ6Ze81FkpkwTZpywpzCb3sWUa4upqosJ3XZVH45_cCT1NRDUjzu75RZABl7-7nm9G9grOI0Y4uFd4Gtc2nFIUWzHY/s1600/Georgiaround2+030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJG3JOwYZnRm3LiO2JAv25s1PHTLFP4edTacy2f8iQvIod6pv9DtpZ6Ze81FkpkwTZpywpzCb3sWUa4upqosJ3XZVH45_cCT1NRDUjzu75RZABl7-7nm9G9grOI0Y4uFd4Gtc2nFIUWzHY/s320/Georgiaround2+030.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
This is my host mom shoveling snow off of her plants into our swimming pool. :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECizQ5wfBfmGnE381QZlkdPsfAGTWwgt4BxYx1a5Kfw5nVASVRrXgE3CR5QwbypOfqN2S_YjaquGJNz38Aa_KKnrKtS2AmlfGeU_rrNGWXWG9Sg281SbxaUgPJ8BJIJc0cEQCEhjLa1Bi/s1600/Georgiaround2+031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECizQ5wfBfmGnE381QZlkdPsfAGTWwgt4BxYx1a5Kfw5nVASVRrXgE3CR5QwbypOfqN2S_YjaquGJNz38Aa_KKnrKtS2AmlfGeU_rrNGWXWG9Sg281SbxaUgPJ8BJIJc0cEQCEhjLa1Bi/s320/Georgiaround2+031.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The workshop/ garage area. The white glare is a pile of snow.</td></tr>
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</div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-70211731431617951012012-02-18T03:33:00.001-08:002012-03-01T03:20:46.506-08:00Holidays in Sakartvelo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">St. Barbara's Day (Barbaroba)- </b>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! :)<span style="font-family: Wingdings;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7jQ5C6Xejagc5Tqoy3YVG6aCe0QrcgYkXksHOWZJXSjyLSFsI0BE706gVe0Ero6wz9dYRjHtdYaifr4bPRf-wfwAV4uGPPfVWJMr1X9idla-Cs5hfpMuxa1emhnu4sLVWvJ4AB-nfoaW/s1600/blog-girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7jQ5C6Xejagc5Tqoy3YVG6aCe0QrcgYkXksHOWZJXSjyLSFsI0BE706gVe0Ero6wz9dYRjHtdYaifr4bPRf-wfwAV4uGPPfVWJMr1X9idla-Cs5hfpMuxa1emhnu4sLVWvJ4AB-nfoaW/s320/blog-girls.jpg" width="320" /></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Christmas Eve/ Day- </b>The 24<sup>th</sup> and 25<sup>th</sup> 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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPuGqXPopMkt0CpO6haLeMePtsLjhyphenhyphenvTx9I6bPY-A_Ow_QrV-PqMHnX5k_uMASIEEUFJUxl-wcO68otbjZpiJQFJlEPH51p3ek78kk2X-lBwxRomOVB8wLKHOm3_g_LStTS3_IGMXUlmDG/s1600/Georgiaround2+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPuGqXPopMkt0CpO6haLeMePtsLjhyphenhyphenvTx9I6bPY-A_Ow_QrV-PqMHnX5k_uMASIEEUFJUxl-wcO68otbjZpiJQFJlEPH51p3ek78kk2X-lBwxRomOVB8wLKHOm3_g_LStTS3_IGMXUlmDG/s320/Georgiaround2+005.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjRgAoZU3xHIqAbnJCyMhtCVMP-O9bk_w-XE1IzxehZ0g0oX6pPSDPpICpRQDN47aqDsRIZdPBnwkyt6NXqdXwoPe7YCYLp1CAoixOegoHF-GCT229ixRNaW7Q4N0k2r_kXQGqyMCVEZCy/s1600/Georgiaround2+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjRgAoZU3xHIqAbnJCyMhtCVMP-O9bk_w-XE1IzxehZ0g0oX6pPSDPpICpRQDN47aqDsRIZdPBnwkyt6NXqdXwoPe7YCYLp1CAoixOegoHF-GCT229ixRNaW7Q4N0k2r_kXQGqyMCVEZCy/s320/Georgiaround2+006.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeehKWByXhQuBZlGXJwUnKmvQeju6KLjhXldSevNg_mDDF2KKTmH1804rzVoJbhhy5BCoTCxS49ZscLJ_scQ024ROQx2SCMLu9xbJcBc501YQ2RAq_YQZvgcX_sLJlElkhHgR4A6cICw1C/s1600/blog-pies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeehKWByXhQuBZlGXJwUnKmvQeju6KLjhXldSevNg_mDDF2KKTmH1804rzVoJbhhy5BCoTCxS49ZscLJ_scQ024ROQx2SCMLu9xbJcBc501YQ2RAq_YQZvgcX_sLJlElkhHgR4A6cICw1C/s320/blog-pies.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabbage Pies and Apple Pies</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvEeWM4ha2UbZ3_DNkD8WTQL_YadSH4agQ_pfLl7UopFqT8V3OBbwObMcljxq4AB3TQu1EL43qf7xWbKnZJDOnXiT4LmhIf73I57ACU1dO1l_VMArThlly84CbU7cuKj0ErEuzM_3uR1_/s1600/blog-cabbage+pie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvEeWM4ha2UbZ3_DNkD8WTQL_YadSH4agQ_pfLl7UopFqT8V3OBbwObMcljxq4AB3TQu1EL43qf7xWbKnZJDOnXiT4LmhIf73I57ACU1dO1l_VMArThlly84CbU7cuKj0ErEuzM_3uR1_/s320/blog-cabbage+pie.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabbage Pie Close-up</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNTSmy16WmokO5nRn7VAS-TdzmIbnRvYzw9U2vNw3pxFm4c6drq2k1bWd83P9qCSUl52XYDV6HbFfjTseVLMTjhyU_b7pjKvUvpS8boBHebmP31v-V81_EnsiCwlRhU3SIYMwwcjVRUol/s1600/blog-borsch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNTSmy16WmokO5nRn7VAS-TdzmIbnRvYzw9U2vNw3pxFm4c6drq2k1bWd83P9qCSUl52XYDV6HbFfjTseVLMTjhyU_b7pjKvUvpS8boBHebmP31v-V81_EnsiCwlRhU3SIYMwwcjVRUol/s320/blog-borsch.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Borsch!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vgQ-36oUkXcKe9H02wcIsExgAvrq757OLSSIf1JHcEMCnpzbcGHzKIKtO_0vU2tqHFu2pXzlpgN52_5ZVs6uFJpZlS82EkH5_AzMnKAucLh5aki1MEJa7VrV2DOP628Dm2xW1Nbo_Ojb/s1600/blog-baked+apples.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vgQ-36oUkXcKe9H02wcIsExgAvrq757OLSSIf1JHcEMCnpzbcGHzKIKtO_0vU2tqHFu2pXzlpgN52_5ZVs6uFJpZlS82EkH5_AzMnKAucLh5aki1MEJa7VrV2DOP628Dm2xW1Nbo_Ojb/s320/blog-baked+apples.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baked Applies</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8tZlZLRf9zEVoaTbN-mwYRBcd1OSIXuzIvo_LhxKgNcxkp-K0GZcb1reBuk2pdGHwt4lcAKCtpI9fdURJ0mqz12qNn3Dh3Hyvt-V-SpVS2AsqCDGwipKw4iGrE-boPAXu06F696AjkXDd/s1600/blog-dinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8tZlZLRf9zEVoaTbN-mwYRBcd1OSIXuzIvo_LhxKgNcxkp-K0GZcb1reBuk2pdGHwt4lcAKCtpI9fdURJ0mqz12qNn3Dh3Hyvt-V-SpVS2AsqCDGwipKw4iGrE-boPAXu06F696AjkXDd/s400/blog-dinner.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Volunteer Christmas Dinner!</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpSj4BxWbfYfwzeAnkxCI1btdhqpKS6Vs_C7D8GE06f8oSILCHfJRj7oTIOmxJbOi7tDQTB6HdGopxXL4yY2sKGU2X7Fnulxj_nC1gyUH2TKF3t_ic8_vZn2bqrnFtDEgheuDP9puvp5pc/s1600/blog-girls2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpSj4BxWbfYfwzeAnkxCI1btdhqpKS6Vs_C7D8GE06f8oSILCHfJRj7oTIOmxJbOi7tDQTB6HdGopxXL4yY2sKGU2X7Fnulxj_nC1gyUH2TKF3t_ic8_vZn2bqrnFtDEgheuDP9puvp5pc/s320/blog-girls2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKUw5wULTbgjrS6QttxWGg3nOxa-8joVA1wWoKF5L20XQ-439xmHn-E_7y3bPDEQVv7OZ1jNhXaJcv-K3Icc9GeNAwedWrpUYYn2N_kRWWSeiXNXAOdaWKUBrP8Nw4gzLjtExYovJQ5se/s1600/blog-boys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKUw5wULTbgjrS6QttxWGg3nOxa-8joVA1wWoKF5L20XQ-439xmHn-E_7y3bPDEQVv7OZ1jNhXaJcv-K3Icc9GeNAwedWrpUYYn2N_kRWWSeiXNXAOdaWKUBrP8Nw4gzLjtExYovJQ5se/s320/blog-boys.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57ws_Ux1wdCrYOadEIuYcxBo1urCMCkWpY_9EW_SfXLBvpuNfkG1y4S-__qKtWKseQn4NKM4ww0x7JpCXGmrnTQ9o0x-UJX8ANetRteB6dwiYTXkvCR7AC-_fD6Yge7nQe-Bv_k7JsFB9/s1600/blog-+reindeer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57ws_Ux1wdCrYOadEIuYcxBo1urCMCkWpY_9EW_SfXLBvpuNfkG1y4S-__qKtWKseQn4NKM4ww0x7JpCXGmrnTQ9o0x-UJX8ANetRteB6dwiYTXkvCR7AC-_fD6Yge7nQe-Bv_k7JsFB9/s320/blog-+reindeer.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9kvKDxwD-0kHVuxXqX13CCQ1DZDGXHuVpPDJVZCzA7XRz4tRzHCXLmg9hBijdgkadkstwlKTxrxNP15xutmnJXC3ErOU7GStEpQWQoFWIAAZ5cnfh5ztWKoCr4QqBV7sVd9SwmtG5fLi/s1600/blog-dviri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9kvKDxwD-0kHVuxXqX13CCQ1DZDGXHuVpPDJVZCzA7XRz4tRzHCXLmg9hBijdgkadkstwlKTxrxNP15xutmnJXC3ErOU7GStEpQWQoFWIAAZ5cnfh5ztWKoCr4QqBV7sVd9SwmtG5fLi/s320/blog-dviri.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaLsACjQsjzlEVZNzWQsjjiNQlu36bqed7r4ex9jxnzRVG3kwIHoqy3yR85wPzOjAQI9Ie_kdIn6CC2vausab7QJZuRbu-gj30ZhU-MncJylo4k5Fy9ewYl9BdiT_5wbcqbtVe2ZCdFktU/s1600/blog-group.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaLsACjQsjzlEVZNzWQsjjiNQlu36bqed7r4ex9jxnzRVG3kwIHoqy3yR85wPzOjAQI9Ie_kdIn6CC2vausab7QJZuRbu-gj30ZhU-MncJylo4k5Fy9ewYl9BdiT_5wbcqbtVe2ZCdFktU/s400/blog-group.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyxKkaB4jl0GuXiIv2E3Exs5Neljl68kF888G35IcB7VIU7V5xFYnZ7qaOoM6IW9jYJ6PoW5bKHLKKIDLTrHvputOoWXWJr6E7SRgDh5hCdDxbA7DFdMto5bQenV7TQwRhF7ngzjM8AFW/s1600/blog-me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyxKkaB4jl0GuXiIv2E3Exs5Neljl68kF888G35IcB7VIU7V5xFYnZ7qaOoM6IW9jYJ6PoW5bKHLKKIDLTrHvputOoWXWJr6E7SRgDh5hCdDxbA7DFdMto5bQenV7TQwRhF7ngzjM8AFW/s320/blog-me.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_NWyUTkkmhyphenhyphenjHXE8xNNGiD3W7U4AZW6DMsJddBlvW1Y50OAaJuE9hlQEIqP9rLUL_GIpbBC3lKNIDgy0uHaOYd8gIA1JjD0R3tcSSV6b-4EXmEIQm0MeHUG_ypo5aCZR2lR2mjZYw633L/s1600/blog-thank+you+to+nastia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_NWyUTkkmhyphenhyphenjHXE8xNNGiD3W7U4AZW6DMsJddBlvW1Y50OAaJuE9hlQEIqP9rLUL_GIpbBC3lKNIDgy0uHaOYd8gIA1JjD0R3tcSSV6b-4EXmEIQm0MeHUG_ypo5aCZR2lR2mjZYw633L/s320/blog-thank+you+to+nastia.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you/ Madloba/Spasiba Nastia!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Wingdings;"> </span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">New Year’s-</b> 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.</div><div class="MsoNormal">*Fun fact about Santa Clause in Georgian- his name is Tovlis Papa or Tovlis Babua which means Grandfather Snow.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifU3ivyPvSlvDojGDtC_h1S-5At69x9lQe7ZIIvONOBliMAuOfmBqofHr-zlQZGE-yS1_tKwhEQvkYmBjmucr1hOV2hYpbPkxKOCYwL6Nx-NesirbnA_9RW7eCk2h1MWnxMCKXqMigIjwK/s1600/blog-christmas+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifU3ivyPvSlvDojGDtC_h1S-5At69x9lQe7ZIIvONOBliMAuOfmBqofHr-zlQZGE-yS1_tKwhEQvkYmBjmucr1hOV2hYpbPkxKOCYwL6Nx-NesirbnA_9RW7eCk2h1MWnxMCKXqMigIjwK/s320/blog-christmas+tree.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tree in Zestaponi (Claire's City)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT8jF7a6yVwq69MDZLD-jBZkdNCnYcVqr9LUbPCBFjt7hyx4fjNWqj3O9byIsvCeizwGoB7lcTTn2LTDOvVNSSmHfZl_VsEw8cy9KJUBOVp7EAPGrWbLOU2lCUfY9YaLxM4lXiOTqpqgYb/s1600/Copy+of+Georgiaround2+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT8jF7a6yVwq69MDZLD-jBZkdNCnYcVqr9LUbPCBFjt7hyx4fjNWqj3O9byIsvCeizwGoB7lcTTn2LTDOvVNSSmHfZl_VsEw8cy9KJUBOVp7EAPGrWbLOU2lCUfY9YaLxM4lXiOTqpqgYb/s400/Copy+of+Georgiaround2+010.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the way happy is spelled.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM4zDXOUELcD0Cg_ukuixNc7vQBuXwBMB6wMw1skFfFkdA9j4wBdfzEGi9rUebyTRPtui4QwBt9f8sC8S6ychPljjQPix_i3n4hdMuMf4b9B-WnOWz58_6XaX0uBbfbyLs3x8t16jND52b/s1600/blog-elenijo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM4zDXOUELcD0Cg_ukuixNc7vQBuXwBMB6wMw1skFfFkdA9j4wBdfzEGi9rUebyTRPtui4QwBt9f8sC8S6ychPljjQPix_i3n4hdMuMf4b9B-WnOWz58_6XaX0uBbfbyLs3x8t16jND52b/s320/blog-elenijo.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eleniko, Claire's Host Sister :)</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Shoba- </b>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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Dzveli Axal Tsels (Old New Year)- </b>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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Wingdings;"> </span> </div></div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-2680571882593101902011-12-21T04:37:00.000-08:002011-12-24T00:19:13.147-08:00The Sound of Music- Georgian Style<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Recently 10 of us volunteers went to a town in the west for the 10th anniversary of a language competition. 120 students from the region competed in English, Russian, German, and French, with the majority being in English. We volunteers were responsible for proctoring, grading the essays, and conducting the interviews. I recalled my language tests here in Georgian, and other foreign language classes throughout my education, while giving the interviews and the stress I used to feel during them. It was nice to be on the other end of the interviews for once. Although it was still somewhat stressful! Our country director of Peace Corps Georgia came to the event and was my co-grader for the interviews! :) On top of all that we had random Georgian business people in the room observing us and the news was there the entire time with his red light on almost constantly!</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><br />
One of the most exciting parts about the event was seeing the creativity in the students' essays. One of the essay topics was: "If you were an animal, what would it be and why?"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the most epic lines I've ever read in an essay- "I have thought so much about being an animal, I am afraid I don't want to be human anymore." Adorable.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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At the awards assembly students from the host school put on a slightly abridged version of "The Sound of Music". But not without the younger students first doing a dance to a techno Christmas classic. There is not a song in Georgia that they do not find a way to make a techno version out of.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sisters</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Goodbye Scene</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carston, Amy, Ariana, Anastasia, Claire, Jana, Goodloe, Conner</td></tr>
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</div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-88191693246190856362011-12-21T03:54:00.000-08:002011-12-21T03:54:16.986-08:00Some sites from Tbilisi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">These are just a few interesting and nice pictures from the capital city, Tbilisi. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-iJFgysesJUCBU2vwFOikGtRO1O3F-IisZVjDZ0VQiBQDBr-Vfafbcz0yK5XE46NK9zrjTS6OegJVlJ7WETTZW8Q7ad2hGLEVqR0-WdDD7vE8BIUqz0ryJeuUW06JsVvC_eADoFCCtbc/s320/P1000923.JPG" width="320" /></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgygW3lTIUoWCe9hVfTRXDBDajza0ibuxEoAs5dnAEiKntsuMB6YTasWU73Ma5Em7wg1Ls-caySOGjia8B5tJa-TgGFiNAfB0wiLhgYQ_7EzYMkMsua_AwUNoyHkNPXSkS-hm40uVZ4Mwpu/s1600/P1000924.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgygW3lTIUoWCe9hVfTRXDBDajza0ibuxEoAs5dnAEiKntsuMB6YTasWU73Ma5Em7wg1Ls-caySOGjia8B5tJa-TgGFiNAfB0wiLhgYQ_7EzYMkMsua_AwUNoyHkNPXSkS-hm40uVZ4Mwpu/s320/P1000924.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicFCy3LVp0OswddmGjkSmpPbx4FGD7SSJsArGPUb7tdS9CXMsgGvmLKKJ1VIFiti007xxmjEvBxmOI4ZrGZUhuJaXXaBR9KHlIm4pqj09GMMdhgHr_gV0b-0nUri-KeIPxv50jRmIt9H7u/s1600/P1000928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicFCy3LVp0OswddmGjkSmpPbx4FGD7SSJsArGPUb7tdS9CXMsgGvmLKKJ1VIFiti007xxmjEvBxmOI4ZrGZUhuJaXXaBR9KHlIm4pqj09GMMdhgHr_gV0b-0nUri-KeIPxv50jRmIt9H7u/s320/P1000928.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">This is one of the most beautiful buildings in the city, the parliament building all decorated for Christmas!</span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is Rustavi Street, one of the most prominent streets in the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dare I say it actually almost looks like the <em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Champs</span></em><span class="st"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">-</i></span><em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Élysées?</span></em></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span>McDonald's worldwide tend to have special dishes depending on the local cuisine. They also have certain decorations very specific to the regions. Here in Georgia, it is 2 orthodox churches at the base of the arch.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwY4KaLiEIZb_kL9KRKpskB-XQTgtWxuVvOSHza1ivvakh8Igsfvz6pryindDnlspTYNHfh-GIYmW0iVyNSyWTSgJQrgi7EK4CYC4oIdfT6j7SIf41KkHRoeh7tCkdmOajmSn7ivJrrbX/s1600/DSCN0650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwY4KaLiEIZb_kL9KRKpskB-XQTgtWxuVvOSHza1ivvakh8Igsfvz6pryindDnlspTYNHfh-GIYmW0iVyNSyWTSgJQrgi7EK4CYC4oIdfT6j7SIf41KkHRoeh7tCkdmOajmSn7ivJrrbX/s320/DSCN0650.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxEPfpyDtl8G3CD7pumGS9uU6YPPjewZO8DTrO8-kbLhPHyopWXrNNA8IxZE8VJp-aKprKvXXjfIrLw5DnfI92-XbyDRd2B0T8z33c-vPX78-Q2zL1HzsicDvJmdAQzGZQX4buvHkN9Vn/s1600/DSCN0752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxEPfpyDtl8G3CD7pumGS9uU6YPPjewZO8DTrO8-kbLhPHyopWXrNNA8IxZE8VJp-aKprKvXXjfIrLw5DnfI92-XbyDRd2B0T8z33c-vPX78-Q2zL1HzsicDvJmdAQzGZQX4buvHkN9Vn/s320/DSCN0752.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"> As an ardent fan of HGTV in the states I was more than thrilled to see a vertical garden outside of the Avlabari (what the Georgian letters say) Metro station!</span><br />
</div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-45877017433435165372011-12-21T03:02:00.000-08:002011-12-21T03:02:08.526-08:00Clairichka :)....and other tidbits from my life lately<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> This is a post dedicated to my one and only Claire. The girl without whom I would not have felt these past 8 months go by quite so quickly!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKkkTicrtHW52rZpEC11w1eC0sini5FXdc0MX6wvIhK-4K9daLuaQABzseG4KT29_ncpQQX2-_Si2QL71ruxwO5Jh2Uj_oqV1z_62QaTE6cvPBbHEOYEA5vlLSzHgwO0w7gdBQEzNYXbpd/s1600/P1000857.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKkkTicrtHW52rZpEC11w1eC0sini5FXdc0MX6wvIhK-4K9daLuaQABzseG4KT29_ncpQQX2-_Si2QL71ruxwO5Jh2Uj_oqV1z_62QaTE6cvPBbHEOYEA5vlLSzHgwO0w7gdBQEzNYXbpd/s320/P1000857.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy33eAaVk8qNVzAH7lwkxLr2WipxVKYewPK_zmf697oLJ96eRWKVXdAe7PGBXXaz39ZtzINBWdEVWd9I0_9oLzk2wV6a7LK5hsI2Fq1riLkklzt8ud5mgD-L2bgi_Ui5VSdPAtLQJM1wn2/s1600/P1000854.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy33eAaVk8qNVzAH7lwkxLr2WipxVKYewPK_zmf697oLJ96eRWKVXdAe7PGBXXaz39ZtzINBWdEVWd9I0_9oLzk2wV6a7LK5hsI2Fq1riLkklzt8ud5mgD-L2bgi_Ui5VSdPAtLQJM1wn2/s320/P1000854.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I love her!</div><div style="text-align: center;">(Note the amount of clothing we each have on just to sleep in, and that was the very beginning of December!)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1YkLFLvs8QxpuyCeu4Q1ISNmo73XyOXvqpxCLbuILVslKHLZYXlyGATdEbrfu2g_44BH4tyYGSTArcJBvH_11EikmzI02SQiEwtjDjLVLAs7CaxIqWb6wCWLcn_dQkWetf-ofya0SqJa/s1600/P1000913.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1YkLFLvs8QxpuyCeu4Q1ISNmo73XyOXvqpxCLbuILVslKHLZYXlyGATdEbrfu2g_44BH4tyYGSTArcJBvH_11EikmzI02SQiEwtjDjLVLAs7CaxIqWb6wCWLcn_dQkWetf-ofya0SqJa/s320/P1000913.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">We recently went to the beach town of Kobuleti for our project design management conference. We each went with our counterparts and courtesy of the Peace Corps got to stay in one of the nicest hotels in Georgia! For a week we were in plush queen sized beds, in centrally heated rooms, with unlimited access to hot showers, in remarkably large rooms for regular hotel rooms, and even with balconies that overlooked the Black Sea! This is the back side of the hotel that overlooks the pool and sea, and where my room was located. Every morning for breakfast we had the option of omelets, crepes, real cereal including coco puffs, an abundance of fruit, and various other goodies to which we are accustomed for breakfast in America! It was amazing!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span id="goog_702485756"></span><span id="goog_702485757"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77V9IpyoeNAoN0YQFWhcLUnU7UQOsOFwBcMw_0ah0P8MVWplWPaeTFHvq4DFs__kg3EsXi1fsqA0Q50SuoVJCuxf2nV5PABIjbZrYEETPDGhxvv6qXZbE9YlXHLoXYbxsejV5Rv5f_FjJ/s1600/P1000872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77V9IpyoeNAoN0YQFWhcLUnU7UQOsOFwBcMw_0ah0P8MVWplWPaeTFHvq4DFs__kg3EsXi1fsqA0Q50SuoVJCuxf2nV5PABIjbZrYEETPDGhxvv6qXZbE9YlXHLoXYbxsejV5Rv5f_FjJ/s320/P1000872.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">Claire and I had a dance party on the beds, just because we could. </div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqJPxd_x9h-jSfQJ__nAMnPZf4rHkU9sIZ6vTeB4_0z17dj5-s14Q9_QYQ2FbbvsnahQ1vvw9ExzPoCOUM9fI-VKO-_ykLAw0XTtWuXM8vc6_0tlQyFwmzfwT4fPWgWINayrk35TIz2Rw/s1600/P1000874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqJPxd_x9h-jSfQJ__nAMnPZf4rHkU9sIZ6vTeB4_0z17dj5-s14Q9_QYQ2FbbvsnahQ1vvw9ExzPoCOUM9fI-VKO-_ykLAw0XTtWuXM8vc6_0tlQyFwmzfwT4fPWgWINayrk35TIz2Rw/s320/P1000874.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> Because ridiculously<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4WH8v6p57ODVyk0fRP4JXm1GoxQ7lwdnM7MKiIO1JuHdy3vIe8NYBeqj9SCsUDLG9edZdWe6juBfWd4mkmMtGsEBhtTbdZp6RgCACM0CUSLSHAiqUG_UH7dOdooYYysuoyKI_wHtqU51/s1600/P1000876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4WH8v6p57ODVyk0fRP4JXm1GoxQ7lwdnM7MKiIO1JuHdy3vIe8NYBeqj9SCsUDLG9edZdWe6juBfWd4mkmMtGsEBhtTbdZp6RgCACM0CUSLSHAiqUG_UH7dOdooYYysuoyKI_wHtqU51/s320/P1000876.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> like-minded<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHht0IG7JtTPD5IulowOUNQW-ihualt0Otbea7jPdYLMtpWt3lafJ4AjlXyw9vK8tDJs3A1UCAhiBSFKLmhqGv2tm8QR7nJmpx_9Riu3ch-RbtWoYeqkNJglEczFxKlhCf8-mZPRJvDBjE/s1600/P1000886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHht0IG7JtTPD5IulowOUNQW-ihualt0Otbea7jPdYLMtpWt3lafJ4AjlXyw9vK8tDJs3A1UCAhiBSFKLmhqGv2tm8QR7nJmpx_9Riu3ch-RbtWoYeqkNJglEczFxKlhCf8-mZPRJvDBjE/s320/P1000886.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> friends<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHGgX4WsaFUzgit_Q-z5aVLHrxHs9cXCss2aFr9Q7IGf3QXilugaFNvhkog4JeO_fw2hCpbeEYuOhdaU4ijsy6nlih9vSSWuJluOr8AkTxK7jKeUTf6yCXZt0wFDHloIh_biFAZsP6SOw/s1600/P1000897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHGgX4WsaFUzgit_Q-z5aVLHrxHs9cXCss2aFr9Q7IGf3QXilugaFNvhkog4JeO_fw2hCpbeEYuOhdaU4ijsy6nlih9vSSWuJluOr8AkTxK7jKeUTf6yCXZt0wFDHloIh_biFAZsP6SOw/s320/P1000897.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv02a_xD3KkoOHcs7WvKXaacnxpJqAt4eZv6Vykh_J8SAPKgRDnvKl22ohZVZnWKSmfvvG58tlslqtp2PvTuONvRluZPzlKKuo_b6RbVEaz5rbhRMthEVBm8-qFfh6tK7Hg6qfIl4GzrgA/s1600/P1000896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv02a_xD3KkoOHcs7WvKXaacnxpJqAt4eZv6Vykh_J8SAPKgRDnvKl22ohZVZnWKSmfvvG58tlslqtp2PvTuONvRluZPzlKKuo_b6RbVEaz5rbhRMthEVBm8-qFfh6tK7Hg6qfIl4GzrgA/s320/P1000896.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>make life</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">This is my counterpart, Goodloe, and I with the sea behind us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were some of the most amazing sunsets I have ever seen in my life there that week!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRpoRtiPGoAhRJjzVP1IdRNDpPx2o87VteefSt_dhUVoy916XzTmXKnOlG9lAOFQbDDoVvRbduWA5SLe6WLWF02n84e-wzFX_RyV7bRpAXqSgvxQU8sSdfV4MwIQFTawkZSrUE7IN-ZG1/s1600/P1000901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_Ugm6UzWmPPLZk2cUTJRnFDmbSTjQ3t5SNbzLFqL_VuPWZOvvqA_XNTYb2Dvy0ljov9zgXaQCLYLXh25Ko3d3wrYkky81y5lvQDXS-5SbPFqgZPfP6ZEIklIowc9FURJO47grEEW2h4w/s1600/P1000900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQXbtjivHahMUGYPu2RtAbNEO8TZW14kukzPKx8j091jOOlhRIXC4eWLQobeWcg3sIbLC6zOMSNDEeIipZp8bm6BTrjKkO8ENd-T1b7GC0Lur9yn5DMzhWAJmKOeUmerLHIwz9RcBKNyN/s1600/P1000899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQXbtjivHahMUGYPu2RtAbNEO8TZW14kukzPKx8j091jOOlhRIXC4eWLQobeWcg3sIbLC6zOMSNDEeIipZp8bm6BTrjKkO8ENd-T1b7GC0Lur9yn5DMzhWAJmKOeUmerLHIwz9RcBKNyN/s320/P1000899.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_Ugm6UzWmPPLZk2cUTJRnFDmbSTjQ3t5SNbzLFqL_VuPWZOvvqA_XNTYb2Dvy0ljov9zgXaQCLYLXh25Ko3d3wrYkky81y5lvQDXS-5SbPFqgZPfP6ZEIklIowc9FURJO47grEEW2h4w/s1600/P1000900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_Ugm6UzWmPPLZk2cUTJRnFDmbSTjQ3t5SNbzLFqL_VuPWZOvvqA_XNTYb2Dvy0ljov9zgXaQCLYLXh25Ko3d3wrYkky81y5lvQDXS-5SbPFqgZPfP6ZEIklIowc9FURJO47grEEW2h4w/s320/P1000900.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-W8KybxTmmstL-gWrHbUG7HJ3gvXo2cKJryA-vfkSTPUj8EaLt6cgjgkvUNUY5oCHbqHMhlPrL6Po1YxZqoplCq1n4K2KG-KQiHQNN1plVj5SblTkt1Y3eHO3S355beXJIwIAu_NchcdQ/s1600/P1000909.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-W8KybxTmmstL-gWrHbUG7HJ3gvXo2cKJryA-vfkSTPUj8EaLt6cgjgkvUNUY5oCHbqHMhlPrL6Po1YxZqoplCq1n4K2KG-KQiHQNN1plVj5SblTkt1Y3eHO3S355beXJIwIAu_NchcdQ/s320/P1000909.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEA-Gp5IAYjybIUpt_ZOwRp9mq4yxQHEsjLYhQkWVn5c7VeYDfnq9ItXqtgI3S7fqvkGHOwG0a3uba3yzqEIfsucWzXaLrSPpLXUzLBYMaeueeR7mbvdWeL97EQsWpztqf636r6VkDK6oo/s1600/P1000910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEA-Gp5IAYjybIUpt_ZOwRp9mq4yxQHEsjLYhQkWVn5c7VeYDfnq9ItXqtgI3S7fqvkGHOwG0a3uba3yzqEIfsucWzXaLrSPpLXUzLBYMaeueeR7mbvdWeL97EQsWpztqf636r6VkDK6oo/s320/P1000910.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRpoRtiPGoAhRJjzVP1IdRNDpPx2o87VteefSt_dhUVoy916XzTmXKnOlG9lAOFQbDDoVvRbduWA5SLe6WLWF02n84e-wzFX_RyV7bRpAXqSgvxQU8sSdfV4MwIQFTawkZSrUE7IN-ZG1/s320/P1000901.JPG" width="320" /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbN7BXAhjcCriQTnLJD7U-TDgI_yGSiMTja0OBHzF1Qvw-WCmwG_-VA2fQpJHKS58_fRyCe2tzApDBk8x-M6fbczMnN8D-wdIEKxBbCKNq4OHi03PagZeP8_VIp3Tg7NijDlGXjM7t3wG/s1600/P1000907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbN7BXAhjcCriQTnLJD7U-TDgI_yGSiMTja0OBHzF1Qvw-WCmwG_-VA2fQpJHKS58_fRyCe2tzApDBk8x-M6fbczMnN8D-wdIEKxBbCKNq4OHi03PagZeP8_VIp3Tg7NijDlGXjM7t3wG/s320/P1000907.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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</div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-4228575821712659292011-12-03T07:41:00.000-08:002011-12-21T00:51:52.106-08:00School, school, school, and more school.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I have had a brand new classroom all semester. I painted it with Claire and Goodloe over the summer making it our second painting job in Georgia. Unfortunately, we have yet to actually use the room due to a lack of chairs available. My director has now promised we will have them by the start of the new semester next year. This is my counterpart Lina, with whom I teach everyday, she is in our room trying to figure out how we can finally make use of this valuable space dedicated purely to English once we get said chairs! :)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKY5Pu898lU-S-l9XbxzcZCaWFlQePVIWjkZge-0ttPD8FRqHnpFlfXQj21u7L6N-jcT2b65XyUfuF2sQ9K2tT_shgvlh0xDycv7YKm7n6HK7pn-n-jddKmkKzmBhuXy-Zlv1M4Pck3LfV/s1600/DSCN0674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKY5Pu898lU-S-l9XbxzcZCaWFlQePVIWjkZge-0ttPD8FRqHnpFlfXQj21u7L6N-jcT2b65XyUfuF2sQ9K2tT_shgvlh0xDycv7YKm7n6HK7pn-n-jddKmkKzmBhuXy-Zlv1M4Pck3LfV/s320/DSCN0674.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This is the room without all of the English decorations we have planned for it in its most bare condition. We plan on decorating further once we hold lessons in the room and see how the space is used. More pictures will be posted in the future. :) Cross your fingers that I get to use it at least once before the two years are over.<br />
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My students are all very enthusiastic about taking part in lessons focused on American holidays. For Halloween my 6th graders made masks and they really went wild with the creativity! It was exciting to see them really take advantage of the opportunity to do different tasks than normal. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoGpnKs7HFJSV1mM-mbhPtxC5e0r31lhpm3Ij9YJf-kbqrolH0gJ5p3xsfn5f4LxzXU6dfs9eESSMUgJOu1fhHAhx0w_QxTvDsW6qUSKq-AMpR2Tz-lC_rQ-nzFy1IaPq8ysyCi9_zJ6n/s1600/DSCN0727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoGpnKs7HFJSV1mM-mbhPtxC5e0r31lhpm3Ij9YJf-kbqrolH0gJ5p3xsfn5f4LxzXU6dfs9eESSMUgJOu1fhHAhx0w_QxTvDsW6qUSKq-AMpR2Tz-lC_rQ-nzFy1IaPq8ysyCi9_zJ6n/s320/DSCN0727.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMp6RVmrES_q5UnGBNf6lwCLVPG8QTjXws5hcPa8C3NkFjqtbk88ONeNPI3ul0AzfftF9P95f-xKfQkHGzEbG8a9HYSIW-qZpcWYjLlSbg4hVVVmZUDDe2cdhsBdyqDcXlE2hb6R0QkyV/s1600/DSCN0728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMp6RVmrES_q5UnGBNf6lwCLVPG8QTjXws5hcPa8C3NkFjqtbk88ONeNPI3ul0AzfftF9P95f-xKfQkHGzEbG8a9HYSIW-qZpcWYjLlSbg4hVVVmZUDDe2cdhsBdyqDcXlE2hb6R0QkyV/s320/DSCN0728.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
In my 6th and 7th grade classes I also carved pumpkins for Halloween. However, pumpkins in Georgia are not like the pumpkins in America. They are of a different breed. They have skins as thick as that guy from "Fantastic 4" Whose skin is like stone! I bent my stainless steel knife carving one and bent the tip off of one of my host family's knives on the other. oops. But the kids really loved the experience. Some of the other teachers just saw us in the courtyard in front of school and had an expression of "oh it's just the American doing another strange American thing." :)<br />
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It all turned out well.<br />
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I originally had no intention of letting the students carve the pumpkins. But after already bending a stainless steel knife, needles to say my hands were hurting. Also, I am not exactly known for my knife wielding ability, so it was a safe bet it was actually safer for them to take over the project than me. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRkevDWDIA9-SaVU0q_YvS1oY3f4TuMeac1i49IawTzB0yGs2GbFkP_UIWG0IfHulI1zTFV6wbDonQ_lC9uMMEcjzzGIvhz8aykkeOLkGwtiTRguoqll3WH1cbs_s7Q6LFBIySfq8kI_IC/s1600/DSCN0726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRkevDWDIA9-SaVU0q_YvS1oY3f4TuMeac1i49IawTzB0yGs2GbFkP_UIWG0IfHulI1zTFV6wbDonQ_lC9uMMEcjzzGIvhz8aykkeOLkGwtiTRguoqll3WH1cbs_s7Q6LFBIySfq8kI_IC/s320/DSCN0726.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-6946251092279785612011-12-03T06:07:00.000-08:002011-12-03T06:08:02.357-08:00ჩემი ახალი მასპინძელი ოჯახი!! (Chemi Ahali Maspindzeli Ojakhi- My New Host Family)So I have been in my new host family's house for about a month now and I could not be happier!! My host mother and father treat me like I am their own daughter and I could not be more thankful to be living with them! <br />
Winter is here in full force. This is my new house after the snowfall on Thanksgiving. The last picture is the view of our garden from our porch. I made the mistake of washing clothes and hanging them on the line a few nights later. I awoke to find my clothes completely frozen solid...SOLID! I literally knocked on my sweatshirt! I am convinced if I dropped it on the ground it would have shattered into a million little pieces. As if I did not dislike laundry enough already, winter has made it even more of an adventure. I also used the machine to wash the clothes and did not use the setting my host mom normally uses as I was not sure which was correct. Something went wrong and the spin cycle part of the process never happened so when my host mom opened the door to the machine the bathroom flooded. This was my second time to do this. :) I think at this point she might thing I am domestically inept, except for my uncanny ability to make a grilled cheese! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-m5CKwQOmWqOu9vcLQk8NAiT_-9YfJta-DJE8pRCMTMInhN3G46ljRfgpL-Q1Uo-0OW7C9uJf_yT__sFeWs9lUWsgQ5nJmsjyJOoSe77GO5xVpRmFeVHW1SeRQHuM2V5jxk-LiY7TbgaX/s1600/DSCN0743.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-m5CKwQOmWqOu9vcLQk8NAiT_-9YfJta-DJE8pRCMTMInhN3G46ljRfgpL-Q1Uo-0OW7C9uJf_yT__sFeWs9lUWsgQ5nJmsjyJOoSe77GO5xVpRmFeVHW1SeRQHuM2V5jxk-LiY7TbgaX/s320/DSCN0743.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6_55AWGFhwzlBP7h3tw0PqeXK8chl84AK34cUfGagNfaT8HO03G18gLZLlemKY_P4YQHOgxa0oZ1qz7v4FPl-MeqxGbh6tG1m5JFvmhpAvfs23dtA6RlyJykVRhWiiJEsn4UOcF4JASQT/s1600/DSCN0745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6_55AWGFhwzlBP7h3tw0PqeXK8chl84AK34cUfGagNfaT8HO03G18gLZLlemKY_P4YQHOgxa0oZ1qz7v4FPl-MeqxGbh6tG1m5JFvmhpAvfs23dtA6RlyJykVRhWiiJEsn4UOcF4JASQT/s320/DSCN0745.JPG" /></a></div>Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-39078445272500071942011-09-04T08:55:00.000-07:002011-09-04T08:55:30.104-07:00Return to DviriIn honor or Claire, Colin, Goodloe, and myself all returning to our training cluster for the harvest of the grapes, here is a picture of all of us with our host families (minues the host dads) from the fourth of July celebration.<br />
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Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-66933755438803501952011-08-31T10:46:00.000-07:002011-09-04T07:15:12.432-07:002 and a half hours to the Most Beautiful Waterfall!One of the biggest perks of living in my town is the Lagodekhi National Forest and all the surrounding nature in the mountains. Recently, I took a hike with my friends up through the mountains. Sometimes we were on a ledge no more than 8 inches wide all along a river and finally made it to our destination.<br />
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Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-37408847836142388422011-08-31T10:00:00.000-07:002011-09-04T08:31:45.422-07:00Jakheti MonasteryI got to go to a very old and very well preserved monastery. There were multiple churches on the grounds and afterwards we had a picnic outside of the gates, where the sunrise was breathtaking! It is the tradition in the Georgian Orthodox church for women to cover their heads when entering the churches, thus my scarf. :)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpSXjGQkMa6UgRnEi6AxTxyka3WImNyDLtGIzSHMgJrDJazkAM3AWnBfg_iyid02SCAUmE5zD7DUolRKDBsrWl8jxdOBmO2vFGlliRlpwz7TWHsr0oYwUKxDcIeqCMeV8z6uRhcTthLjp/s1600/janatamuna2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpSXjGQkMa6UgRnEi6AxTxyka3WImNyDLtGIzSHMgJrDJazkAM3AWnBfg_iyid02SCAUmE5zD7DUolRKDBsrWl8jxdOBmO2vFGlliRlpwz7TWHsr0oYwUKxDcIeqCMeV8z6uRhcTthLjp/s320/janatamuna2.jpg" /></a></div>I did not know how to tie it myself so Goodloe's partner teacher had to help me.<br />
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Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-23377047740436442842011-08-31T07:37:00.000-07:002011-09-04T07:31:53.078-07:00Black Sea AdventuresAfter a very long and grueling trek from one side of the country to the other I finally got to swim in the Black Sea!! It is absolutely beautiful. Initially I went to a smaller town that is not such a tourist destination which has regular sand beaches. Because this was my first time swimming in a sea and it felt so much like the ocean I kept forgetting I need not be worried about sharks. This is us on the beach and then lounging on the roof of a restaurant after swimming all day. We also eventually went and briefly joined the volleyball game.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinTgsSqmQwrt-FoBH71Z9TfWEFXO47jD1qUNvTHZYnbyhGj4yM1uQfJEn9kvGrKG6aL9XIO5iu55QXG7_CBkpNpDZS-y3i_EX-bQy8G7RqlCfmOUuSycyLnhyXYcNmuobphA0Tj-nEN9i/s1600/prettybuilding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinTgsSqmQwrt-FoBH71Z9TfWEFXO47jD1qUNvTHZYnbyhGj4yM1uQfJEn9kvGrKG6aL9XIO5iu55QXG7_CBkpNpDZS-y3i_EX-bQy8G7RqlCfmOUuSycyLnhyXYcNmuobphA0Tj-nEN9i/s320/prettybuilding.jpg" /></a></div>I also visited Batumi which is one of the hubs for vacationing in Georgia. The city itself has wonderful architecture and there is a very nice boardwalk on the sea. The only catch to the beach in Batumi is that in lieu of sand there are huge river rocks on the shore and in the water. They do a number on one's feet. Water shoes would have made it a less painful experience but it was a fun experience nonetheless. On the up side, there is no sand to get all of your belongings or clothes dirty.<br />
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Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-256081028477943262011-08-30T07:51:00.000-07:002011-09-04T07:38:01.846-07:00A whole lotta ladas! And other Cool Vehicles.I am rather fond of the old Soviet Ladas that are so common here, and I have taken pictures of my favorite ones. I will add to this post as often as I see one that excites me. :)<br />
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Additionally, I have taken pictures of other modes of transportation and/or machinery which I found unique.<br />
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The first time we saw the train going through Dviri.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Lz3RjZxGIPWeqw64KLsxcxNyOcyEKKr9aY_LBeS0z_8T_tR4QtTfXZSZjaR8FR8u6Kpr_-0HX2tHCkWErPPvioyt4fpMVo72ChDhSDdbEbJvgVisNC_NLNXWAGN-qvNaWvNd3U-4wdT8/s1600/tractor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Lz3RjZxGIPWeqw64KLsxcxNyOcyEKKr9aY_LBeS0z_8T_tR4QtTfXZSZjaR8FR8u6Kpr_-0HX2tHCkWErPPvioyt4fpMVo72ChDhSDdbEbJvgVisNC_NLNXWAGN-qvNaWvNd3U-4wdT8/s400/tractor.jpg" /></a></div>I think a tractor, or some other kind of farm equipment (just for you dad.)<br />
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Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-81667752514400738992011-07-16T06:56:00.000-07:002011-09-04T08:41:16.928-07:00I am officially a volunteer!!!!!SOOOOO many things have happened since my last blog, I have been too busy to breath let alone blog, so before I get to the most important piece of info and all the glorious details, I will share some other wonderful experiences that happened along the way.<br />
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I sang along with Goodloe playing guitar to all the students in Dviri on their last day of school. I felt what it is like to be a celebrity with all the picture requests from them, which I have to admit I didn't hate. :)<br />
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I went to Ahal Sitke with a big group of my friends a few weeks ago. We intended on going to the cave city of Vardzia but it wasn't feasible (I should have time in the next 2 years to make it so it wasn't a huge deal), but I really liked the city we were in. This is an old church with a museum that one of our host sister's brought us along to. The first picture is a normal picture, and the second one is our "Georgian picture". <br />
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This picture is from the day we found out our permanent placement sites. The staff laid out the shape of the country with the green rope on the floor. We all stood around the perimeter and one by one read the envelope and placement of the person whose envelope we had in our hands, until we all were standing in the relative location of our new homes! I am located in Lagodehki which is a relatively large town with a whole 8,500 people! We have three banks and a post office and multiple stores, suffice it to say I am ecstatic! It is Texas hot here however and air conditioners are not near as prevalent so I might melt.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_iakdf5NrT-RHY7WnSWi6RvIicxGgTRFC0FR7XZVvdqXJgqWgiVTLtk0BBEZm_SsR08VUCgMNIgvkXcXKFbjGEkZ8JnrQ8QJWtfpOROY4r1opKj5W118zT2GJnJcDaL3HTWyOACGkzpw6/s1600/DSCN0331%255B1%255D" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_iakdf5NrT-RHY7WnSWi6RvIicxGgTRFC0FR7XZVvdqXJgqWgiVTLtk0BBEZm_SsR08VUCgMNIgvkXcXKFbjGEkZ8JnrQ8QJWtfpOROY4r1opKj5W118zT2GJnJcDaL3HTWyOACGkzpw6/s320/DSCN0331%255B1%255D" /></a></div>Despite the heat I think I am absolutely going to love it here! There are 700 kids in my school and 5 English teachers that I have a chance to work with. On top of all that the volunteer who was here previously just got a grant to have the English room completely renovated in the school, so I will begin the year in September with amazing brand new facilities!<br />
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On another exciting note, we had a 4th of July celebration up above Borjomi Park that our host Families and all the trainees attended. We did sack racing with our Georgian siblings and balloon toss, and tug-of-war. Unfortunately, as soon as all roughly 50 people pulled on the strap we were using as a rope, it snapped and I flew feet over head on the concrete. I was not hurt but it was a very typical Jana moment. It was crazy to see a strap that strong snap so quickly! This is a picture of my friends and I above Borjomi park near the sky trolley.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFMM7vua99QBQeg41x9ZVr82l2DewzAwiYTBheSixzRkOXI_ko9taMUAs3gX3RIHiH8SpwHNmYVfOuIICKvlWnGOa5wZwdE8y2a6kvYxXPTXbOdz0trUJbdUEqk2yDoQnnKUVBZbsS6HQ/s1600/DSCN0351%255B1%255D" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFMM7vua99QBQeg41x9ZVr82l2DewzAwiYTBheSixzRkOXI_ko9taMUAs3gX3RIHiH8SpwHNmYVfOuIICKvlWnGOa5wZwdE8y2a6kvYxXPTXbOdz0trUJbdUEqk2yDoQnnKUVBZbsS6HQ/s320/DSCN0351%255B1%255D" /></a></div><br />
I of course felt the need to represent Texas on our festive day. We later sang the Georgian and American National anthems and the youngest person attending blew out the candles on our American Flag cake.<br />
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For one of our last project in Dviri, Colin, Claire, Goodloe, and I decided to overhaul the English classroom at the school which had been allowing us to use their facilities for the duration of our training.<br />
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This is the classroom pre-renovation. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_fJyaYPO6xemF8pXzV741Lma4lEpyPrlHILGXlOWQ-7Uq1vmuVbYmbzU78wUUvH_bPl74b6BA2MYyPDnaGQQ_vduobgybhXYL9NacaovKMfqQerl44TCcFoHjb_drGgFZrznKJzUB-uLv/s1600/DC24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_fJyaYPO6xemF8pXzV741Lma4lEpyPrlHILGXlOWQ-7Uq1vmuVbYmbzU78wUUvH_bPl74b6BA2MYyPDnaGQQ_vduobgybhXYL9NacaovKMfqQerl44TCcFoHjb_drGgFZrznKJzUB-uLv/s320/DC24.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscxk9vlMmnt0WY65QFN3ZBEw5NnBLyXOFR5Jl_L6xu6wKHsWtJjE4_i9s-w_xblv6lGmqEPJ67ghMSgKfm73JkRhV_LUXn6mlWh1X0avpTFsyy4Yr7Fi5d6MXtWi35hQ79E_R2sKZLsqY/s1600/DC22.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscxk9vlMmnt0WY65QFN3ZBEw5NnBLyXOFR5Jl_L6xu6wKHsWtJjE4_i9s-w_xblv6lGmqEPJ67ghMSgKfm73JkRhV_LUXn6mlWh1X0avpTFsyy4Yr7Fi5d6MXtWi35hQ79E_R2sKZLsqY/s320/DC22.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsnQJLautDErX2XjS6uTh3dZiENeR7aW3MSB_20SKUvTzyUH8Hqtp5PXmi85UHPi_rKi_-Bq69pqCplQU9J_1qHgypnPDZA8snplbF9TGKPJ_sWPDNiLT3p7kb6vhVA1vo_okXn7pTVLM5/s1600/DC23.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsnQJLautDErX2XjS6uTh3dZiENeR7aW3MSB_20SKUvTzyUH8Hqtp5PXmi85UHPi_rKi_-Bq69pqCplQU9J_1qHgypnPDZA8snplbF9TGKPJ_sWPDNiLT3p7kb6vhVA1vo_okXn7pTVLM5/s320/DC23.JPG" /></a></div>This is Claire and myself and scraping the very old, very sticky wallpaper from the walls.<br />
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.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7-NOWDjxcLcBjAKKttyFrV0C6GVTB0ARbUApdzgsGDghm4a1xjwcxlmoeRHe-vAe-y0of9XOli-8rY6lvdr3i5bWXWDfARTMw32tbVj5FukDPvmKu3C-xJjnoN2QeKYScG0EWl9UFefb/s1600/DC16.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7-NOWDjxcLcBjAKKttyFrV0C6GVTB0ARbUApdzgsGDghm4a1xjwcxlmoeRHe-vAe-y0of9XOli-8rY6lvdr3i5bWXWDfARTMw32tbVj5FukDPvmKu3C-xJjnoN2QeKYScG0EWl9UFefb/s320/DC16.JPG" /></a></div>Next, came very extensive cleaning of the walls and soot ridden ceiling from the fire burning stove that is used in the winter time<br />
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As you can see the students all eagerly helped us, even on the most uninteresting day of cleaning! One last step before painting- spackling with our hands! At one point we ran out of spackling, and since we were way over budget improvised with a small amount of dirt, like adobe to fill the remainders of holes in. :)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCokOoWba7Pjf7NuU68KIf42dEP3jKa_Zp2lOP3WOaIJ1IHApkKx9uZmxCunjBepA-ne7XUscrCxQktkrYgIczMEOihYMFnSuZ-FVeZd9i6p0KpfQYHy6Wg8AdmeuGeS2OgtSbQRHdbqcp/s1600/DC18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCokOoWba7Pjf7NuU68KIf42dEP3jKa_Zp2lOP3WOaIJ1IHApkKx9uZmxCunjBepA-ne7XUscrCxQktkrYgIczMEOihYMFnSuZ-FVeZd9i6p0KpfQYHy6Wg8AdmeuGeS2OgtSbQRHdbqcp/s320/DC18.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmMrhZA1kLS2zeXK0-V7LxOCrNhoIloHSSSLPU3tZd1xTnBl3IgCqFIb0fDysDkN_dQiz4Mfj5Q7Y94SEPrJTScVFYFr4M1U_g7Sm7qRDtZ0xj8rZ97yUGSLrNggBEdxZM7O-26dxTmqs8/s1600/DC12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmMrhZA1kLS2zeXK0-V7LxOCrNhoIloHSSSLPU3tZd1xTnBl3IgCqFIb0fDysDkN_dQiz4Mfj5Q7Y94SEPrJTScVFYFr4M1U_g7Sm7qRDtZ0xj8rZ97yUGSLrNggBEdxZM7O-26dxTmqs8/s320/DC12.JPG" /></a></div>Finally the painting began! And there are pictures of the four of us along the way...<br />
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Note the plastic bag on my head; if there is one thing I learned from painting in America, it is that paint in hair = not a good time! Once we got the first coat of yellow on Claire was able to begin her magnificent English Alphabet!<br />
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Finally we painted the floor.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqG5PE-_U2cIZuJ5sQdtPGGh1SbrpjPO1Xu9DUPzy1xvxF6PHr2Gr6VnGTQMKM9gD3rZsQlxYfxt-rf1l4g_7fjBcHPyvr37XLZAEFwAH6qfA9-8NuqE6eFHvlCa-N2RYBYWxPWg2QL3ga/s1600/DC4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqG5PE-_U2cIZuJ5sQdtPGGh1SbrpjPO1Xu9DUPzy1xvxF6PHr2Gr6VnGTQMKM9gD3rZsQlxYfxt-rf1l4g_7fjBcHPyvr37XLZAEFwAH6qfA9-8NuqE6eFHvlCa-N2RYBYWxPWg2QL3ga/s320/DC4.JPG" /></a></div>All the Children that helped with the room got to put their hand prints with their names on the cabinet.<br />
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A gift from the Peace Corps. (Claire did the flags :))<br />
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For summer camp we then had all the students who participated make different posters in English to even further decorate the room!<br />
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On a side not in Borjomi, I saw the best graffiti I have ever seen in my life! Superheroes! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsXipdeErO5k4m31A430CzbtSU7Yoenf8fs2dOLzeRAgAr08kLtDLzPZcQzsY9TVBvXK5peN5Typ92P6I1Mc8IEQosMtWmCMu-fpSIl-mWssH4waTs2hpbP0oyPGScJPAm-UkYMgvVLM9/s1600/DSCN0367%255B1%255D" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsXipdeErO5k4m31A430CzbtSU7Yoenf8fs2dOLzeRAgAr08kLtDLzPZcQzsY9TVBvXK5peN5Typ92P6I1Mc8IEQosMtWmCMu-fpSIl-mWssH4waTs2hpbP0oyPGScJPAm-UkYMgvVLM9/s320/DSCN0367%255B1%255D" /></a></div><br />
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There is a somewhat crumbling statue on a relatively isolated hill that my clustermates and I have passed everyday we have left our village and never ventured to it until last week on our last weekend. We still don't have the full story, but it was nice to see, and we visited the old Dviri train station. Claire's awesome friends from America and Germany are also in the picture! :)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3Hkkic-pr-wIEvnYZ4GIrLQoN-sGq0lwzVYiv_Rqe2X32WP_TnH5SWi9XKm9j0Kn-aZ5dUDNU1PNMhyj1Z9AUCpsUR0o3UzuaIbQ7q5uYpVkn7Vdj_TK3vtv_pzbR5FRJnY1TZ-ciPDx/s1600/DSCN0400%255B1%255D" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3Hkkic-pr-wIEvnYZ4GIrLQoN-sGq0lwzVYiv_Rqe2X32WP_TnH5SWi9XKm9j0Kn-aZ5dUDNU1PNMhyj1Z9AUCpsUR0o3UzuaIbQ7q5uYpVkn7Vdj_TK3vtv_pzbR5FRJnY1TZ-ciPDx/s320/DSCN0400%255B1%255D" /></a></div><br />
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A few weeks ago I had the opportunity with a few other friends to go to Tbilisi to run in the Susan G. Koleman Breast Cancer Awareness 5k run. It was a great experience to help support a cause I am already passionate about in the States. :)<br />
Brittany, Claire, Ariana, Myself, and Jack (all some of my favorite people here!)<br />
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Finally the day we had all been waiting for! On July 15, 2011 myself along with the other 41 trainees to an oath to the Constitution swearing us in as official Peace Corps volunteers! It was a wonderful day and celebration. Ambassador Bass, the Ambassador to Georgia gave a speech and amazing traditional songs and dances were performed for us. Myself with 4 other of the new volunteers performed the Georgian national anthem- slightly nerve wracking but very exciting! <br />
This is the last picture of the Dviri Crew before swearing in!Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5031283731918969986.post-90779361572326319402011-06-13T11:11:00.000-07:002011-06-13T11:21:56.503-07:00Americouli Satchmeli!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiolSV3AXQuPAMIGMMyHbSzPfahsXQC4LLUoEEhyphenhyphenfQZ3LWPrMvbbWVuJYiYOQAHMWZtLZK_MncNAX-pyGChxhD4ZI6itcyQNNKl0NHrf2_7tyo5OB1sQmyKr7I_9ZcHGn-efPlwcLDr1CkU/s1600/DSCN0259.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiolSV3AXQuPAMIGMMyHbSzPfahsXQC4LLUoEEhyphenhyphenfQZ3LWPrMvbbWVuJYiYOQAHMWZtLZK_MncNAX-pyGChxhD4ZI6itcyQNNKl0NHrf2_7tyo5OB1sQmyKr7I_9ZcHGn-efPlwcLDr1CkU/s320/DSCN0259.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCQzu-8hHFLDlAlg3170kYJDyO-LGhUfiFV81U64M2Nr2Vu088pt-I-F_T9ptE3dSi3hDmutF_tIU97Kp15z1dgzGZvnwrLkR-95lwfeYiK96uksnGrWFnXDCttWPqrFqy8R4-Mr3Ry1oX/s1600/DSCN0261.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCQzu-8hHFLDlAlg3170kYJDyO-LGhUfiFV81U64M2Nr2Vu088pt-I-F_T9ptE3dSi3hDmutF_tIU97Kp15z1dgzGZvnwrLkR-95lwfeYiK96uksnGrWFnXDCttWPqrFqy8R4-Mr3Ry1oX/s320/DSCN0261.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ORCKNE8V2v1Nzvt6tadYJk_-YqgUNJrVhWMIPtDow5v4ck3fDf9dSIuLZJdFimUxvQ1oYQPOU001k4fJ8SFh0Byy1PMHasoex3Bdja9wRFE6eb_FnDFnEmuBHSlUFRPGDEW7mXeP5bqF/s1600/DSCN0278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ORCKNE8V2v1Nzvt6tadYJk_-YqgUNJrVhWMIPtDow5v4ck3fDf9dSIuLZJdFimUxvQ1oYQPOU001k4fJ8SFh0Byy1PMHasoex3Bdja9wRFE6eb_FnDFnEmuBHSlUFRPGDEW7mXeP5bqF/s320/DSCN0278.jpg" /></a></div>Last weekend the other members of my cluster and myself all got together to make "American" food for our families. Being that the only really American cuisine are hamburgers and all that jazz we made our version of Tex-Mex and quasi-Italian inspired Americanish food. We made for them beans and rice with a little seasoning from home, salsa!, a salad with lettuce in it which I had never seen before here, homemade tortillas and chips, noodles without butter or oil, and an amazing pasta sauce made from fresh veggies in a saucepan. It was an experimental endeavor to say the least, and hardly really equated to the dishes back home just because of the difference in ingredients, but it was wonderful and our families seemed to really enjoy the whole operation! By the way hand making tortillas is quite the undertaking and one that I feel I am now an expert at from our hours of practice that day. :)<br />
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After the meal the two guy volunteers and us two girl volunteers all cleared the table and were doing the dishes together. Because of the very different dynamic in the homes here, my grandfather explained to the guys that this was a women's job and they should sit down. In the spirit of sharing all aspects of American mealtime traditions the boys continued to do all of the dishes and encouraged us girls to enjoy our evening and they finished all of them. :) Riotous laughter and some misunderstanding as to why this was happening were our families' greatest reactions to this little cultural exchange.Jana Denehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17267766134481791640noreply@blogger.com0