Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Happy Saint Giorgi's Day!


Today is “Giorgioba,” Saint George’s feast day. I have off school, and I’ll head off to church in a little bit. But I’m very behind on my writing. In part this is because I’ve been sharing my computer with our guests. Usually by the time they’re in bed, I’m far too tired to write.
I’ve wanted to jot down many things. Like how lovely I found the sight of frozen persimmons sitting on the stark white windowsill during the blizzard. Or how bebia’s mother has laugh lines that look like wings, and how I’ve decided that such regal wrinkles are something I should aspire to. How a 2nd grader made me a very pretty necklace, how the 8th graders want to teach me to dance, and how the 9th grade boys now tend to answer me with “Kalo” (“lady” kindof)…
There have been many funny moments that I’ve wanted to record, too. A few days ago, I caught babua staring at my fingers. He told me that I have beautiful hands and so should get a manicure (aka paint my nails). I laughed and asked what color, and he responded that I should get a French manicure so that they stay close to their natural colors. I remember being in 5th grade and being old enough to be socially involved but not old enough to be able to afford (or allowed to attend) big parties. So my friends and I put a lot of effort into braiding my hair, painting our nails, and changing our earrings and lip-gloss often. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been able to display my sociability by going out places and by hostessing, and I don’t pay attention to how I look so much because my actions say everything I want known about me. I notice here (where there is nowhere to go, there are few opportunities for adventuring, and street behavior is as a rule conservative) that people put a lot of care into their appearances and they love to host guests. I think that there could be a kind of bell-graph made about this: people with few resources display sociability by caring a lot about personal appearance, people with more resources care less because they spend their time doing things, and people with a lot of resources care a lot again…both because they want to display position and because they have time to do so. Or maybe this is all nonsense…I have a lot of time to think here.
Another funny moment (or, rather, two hours) was the day after my birthday. I walked into both my seventh and eighth grade classes pretending that I hadn’t understood the puppet-show the day before. I asked them to explain it to me. At first, my co-teacher was translating everything. I make a pointed joke about her not helping them, and she joined my side—pretending that she didn’t understand so that they had to creatively use the words they did know (and occasionally pantomime) to explain the story. It was a lot of fun.
I’ve learned to make khinkhali and to sing two Georgian songs. I haven’t figured out how everyone lights candles at church without  setting each other on fire, but I have learned that the priest—who is the father of two of my students—doesn’t like women who wear pants. Oops. I’m learning useful vocabulary, like the words for “snowflake” and “mountain” and “swan.” I’ve taught my host-grandparents “good” “ok” “I love you, too” “only a little” and “goodness!” We’ve been busy.
For the holiday today, we didn’t have school. Instead, I went to church and then had a snowball fight with our guests. As we walked home from church, we stopped for mineral water. Then Giorgi drove past and we waved him down SO we were able to hop onto his bus. He drove us to the synagogue and our guests went inside to admire the beautiful painted ceiling. Having been a few times already, I stayed outside and hoped that Giorgi’s friend would talk to me so I could practice a bit of Georgian (I’ve been teaching a lot of English lately and not studying so much myself). He didn’t, but a woman came up and started talking to me. She was smoking and had a lot of make-up on…things women don’t generally do in public here, so I was a bit wary. Soon enough, everyone was back on the bus and we went home. Lasha and I went to the store to pick up ingredients for blinis, and the rest of the night has been pretty quiet.
Happy Saint George’s Day!

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