Leaving Oni for a while...

Saturday there was an earthquake—the second since I arrived in Oni. The day was generally busy. I packed for Istanbul, celebrated Barbaroba and celebrated Giorgi’s birthday. Barbaroba is Saint Barbara’s day. The night before, people put new ornaments on their New Year’s trees. Then, early in the morning, the “first foot” stumrad modis. It has been decided in advance that a close friend or neighbor will be the “first foot,” and if he or she is the first guest of Barbaroba then the family will have good luck for the New Year. It is tradition to eat pumpkin and lobiani on this holiday, and people give each other (and especially children) a lot of candy (milk-free because they’re in the middle of their big Christmas fast). The holiday is about peace, friendship, and hope for the New Year. It is also a special day for children, and people give children small gifts. When I went shopping for Giorgi’s birthday present, the shop-keepers wouldn’t let me pay for it…which probably has something to do with the way the women here refer to me as bavshvi (child).  They also gave me a piece of chocolate and a glass of wine. These things would just never happen at Waterloo!

I went to visit Keti for a little while. I just wanted to see her before leaving for my trip; however, I soon realized that going visiting something people do to celebrate Barbaroba. I like this holiday. Keti and I talked about the evolution of Georgian, which is always fascinating. She has more exposure to local languages than I do, and so she can tell me which words come from Russian, Persian, Turkish, old Iranian, etc.

Later, my family went to Giorgi’s birthday supra. We arrived late and left early. At the time, I wanted to stay longer. Now I’m glad we didn’t. The one horn of wine that I drank left me sicker than I’ve been in years. I actually bought medicine (which is something I really only do when desperate)! Aside from realizing after the fact that the wine was bad, I also realized belatedly that the stuffed animal I gave Gio as a present is actually a New Year’s toy. It’s a dragon. I just thought it was cute, but Matsatso told me that the Georgians personify the old year as a rabbit and the New Year as a dragon (which, I think, eats the rabbit…).

Yesterday, Eka and I spent the day in a marshutka coming to Tbilisi. We’re staying with a friend of hers here. We watched an Indian film dubbed in Russian, went out to dinner with her friends (who were offended that I wasn’t eating even though I explained that I really am too sick to eat), and admired the Christmas lights.

Aside from being violently ill, this has been lovely. In a bit, we’re going to go walk around the city and run some errands. I’ve realized that Eka likes slow mornings. She packed a lot of pretty clothes and make-up…as opposed to my two-pairs-of-jeans-and-sneakers approach to packing. This will be an interesting trip. Although—to think of it—when one considers that I ripped one of my pairs of jeans yesterday, maybe a middle way makes more sense…

I want to photograph these buildings before we leave…

Mere

About that walking around that I wanted…oh well. I should know better than to hold anyone to promises made in translation. We went to the place where the post office used to be, but there was no post anymore. Actually, the whole building was in the process of being gutted, so we stood there in confusion and awe. Then Eka called her uncle. He picked us up with his car and brought us to the place where the post office is now. The lady wanted 27 gel to mail 6 Christmas postcards to America. I told her that they could all go in one envelope, and then she charged me 7 gel instead. Ridiculous. I can imagine many things, but a country that wants to join the EU that doesn’t have a postal system…that’s a bit ridiculous. My postcards will arrive in 3 weeks. Ridiculous.

Then Eka’s uncle drove us to her aunt’s home (he didn’t stay). The home was like I imagine mine will someday be: books, eclectic decorations arranged with care, a piano, a big table for guests, and tea already waiting for us. Eka spent the whole time on the phone, and her aunt was upset both by this and by the fact that I wasn’t eating (still sick here!).

The concept of not eating is foreign here. I’m sick! I can’t eat! (They have different forms of negation for things one chooses not to do and things one is unable to do due to external causes) (PS That’s a super difficult sentence for ESL studentsL) I keep insisting “ver shemidzlia!” but there’s constant pressure. “Eat! Drink! You must!” I tried explaining that the company made me happier than food ever could, but they don’t get it. There was so much pressure that I felt violated. This is my body we’re talking about! My body! And if I don’t want to eat fried things and drink super strong alcohol when I’m sick then you can’t guilt me into it no matter how you try! But yikes. I love these people, but they make me be very firm and insistent. It’s not quite my personality…maybe this is part of that personal growth that I’m supposed to experience here.