Dear all,
They have this lovely sweet here, called a Kinder Suprise. It is German chocolate and I have been told it is very popular worldwide (except apparently at home). It is this deliciouse chocolate egg with a toy inside. As I am a very mature adult, I purchase one of these when I go into town. They are really just too cool for words. One of the toys I got is this little blue man that is holding a frisbee! Also he changes color in the sun. I ask you, could there be anything cooler?! I submit that there could not! Anywho, I just got word today that we should get out flight info by the end of next week, so I will start looking for it a week after that.
Hey, HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYBODY!!!!!!!! I almost forgot! Here are ten things I am grateful for!
1- Kinder Suprises!
2- Warm socks!
3- My mom!
4- The internet!
5- The Scriptures! (right now I am reading in 3rd Nephi were Jesus vists the Nephites!)
6- Shelia Collins, Christina Peebles, and Jaime Mcllwraith!
7- Good long hikes!
8- Naval fiction! (It can be a bit violent at times, but it is good. I came across eight books for about 50 cents a piece, so that has been my reading material of late.)
9- Mandarins!
10- Last but not least, all my dear family and friends at home!
Love
Katie
* At the top it says that I posted this on Wednesday, but it is definetely Thursday here, and properly Thanksgiving. PS, give my love to the turkey.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
I bought the greatest ever fingerless gloves at what appeared to be the worlds largest open air thrift store.
Dear all,
Really though, the gloves are great. I also got some great green knee high socks, some lovely maroon socks, and some bright yellow mittens that are pretty small, but I wear then anyways, because they are sooo yellow! If you did not notice the trend in my clothing purchases, it is warmth. I am so cold here! It is like all my blood has been replaced by ice! It is not even that cold, but my once majestic curculation is failing I think! Every night before bed I jog in place for a half an hour. If I don't I can't go to sleep because my toes do not thaw out otherwise!
Anywho, life is great. Last night I had this salt/cheese/salt/rice/salt dish. It was sort of like drinking a salt solution that had as much salt dissolved in it as physically possible, and then they put more junks of salt in it, for fun. Actually, that is what it was. I don't know if I have mentioned this, but Georgians really, really dig salt. They put it in milk. I am not kidding. My host dad always tries to get me to salt stuff. He also tries to get me to drink, all the time. Oh, they also put salt in their beers, and sometimes in the wine. I have a feeling that salt is the biggest industry here. After wine I mean.
I don't drink, ever. You would think that you would need to tell people that only a few times before they realised that you actually never did consume alchohol. But it just doesn't sink in. No matter how many times I decline some wine, saying that it is against my religion, or that I won't drink it, or that tiny gremlins will pop out of my forehead if I have a drop, they still try.
It is a lot of work declining some things here. I was rushing through a market in Tbilisi one day with some friends, on the way to the metro, when this rather frightening man blocks my path. He offers me some rotten looking fruit and seems determined to make me eat it. I declined kindly, saying, "ara, madloba" (no, thank you) and yet he persisted. So after a few minutes, I looked him in the eyes and almost yelled, "Me ar minda! (I don't want it)." After this senior creepy laughed and stepped out of my way. Thank goodness. But, since I had had to raise me voice to make him move, the entire surrounding area was now staring and laughing, suprised to see that such an obviously not Georgian girl was able to stand up to that guy. I was, needless to say, frazzled, and I was more than glad to finally get onto the Metro, where I had only to worry about small gypseys trying to steal from me.
Love you all!
Katie
PS: Georgia is the best country in the whole world. I learned that important fact from a man who has never been more than a twenty minute drive from the house where he was born. Just so you know.
Really though, the gloves are great. I also got some great green knee high socks, some lovely maroon socks, and some bright yellow mittens that are pretty small, but I wear then anyways, because they are sooo yellow! If you did not notice the trend in my clothing purchases, it is warmth. I am so cold here! It is like all my blood has been replaced by ice! It is not even that cold, but my once majestic curculation is failing I think! Every night before bed I jog in place for a half an hour. If I don't I can't go to sleep because my toes do not thaw out otherwise!
Anywho, life is great. Last night I had this salt/cheese/salt/rice/salt dish. It was sort of like drinking a salt solution that had as much salt dissolved in it as physically possible, and then they put more junks of salt in it, for fun. Actually, that is what it was. I don't know if I have mentioned this, but Georgians really, really dig salt. They put it in milk. I am not kidding. My host dad always tries to get me to salt stuff. He also tries to get me to drink, all the time. Oh, they also put salt in their beers, and sometimes in the wine. I have a feeling that salt is the biggest industry here. After wine I mean.
I don't drink, ever. You would think that you would need to tell people that only a few times before they realised that you actually never did consume alchohol. But it just doesn't sink in. No matter how many times I decline some wine, saying that it is against my religion, or that I won't drink it, or that tiny gremlins will pop out of my forehead if I have a drop, they still try.
It is a lot of work declining some things here. I was rushing through a market in Tbilisi one day with some friends, on the way to the metro, when this rather frightening man blocks my path. He offers me some rotten looking fruit and seems determined to make me eat it. I declined kindly, saying, "ara, madloba" (no, thank you) and yet he persisted. So after a few minutes, I looked him in the eyes and almost yelled, "Me ar minda! (I don't want it)." After this senior creepy laughed and stepped out of my way. Thank goodness. But, since I had had to raise me voice to make him move, the entire surrounding area was now staring and laughing, suprised to see that such an obviously not Georgian girl was able to stand up to that guy. I was, needless to say, frazzled, and I was more than glad to finally get onto the Metro, where I had only to worry about small gypseys trying to steal from me.
Love you all!
Katie
PS: Georgia is the best country in the whole world. I learned that important fact from a man who has never been more than a twenty minute drive from the house where he was born. Just so you know.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
I made a ghost out of a napkin to help me celebrate Halloween.
Dear all,
So, it is official! When I come home at Christmas I will not be returning to Georgia. I am excited but I also feel guilty, despite the lovely words of comfort from everybody. But, I am pretty sure my guilt will fade fast! Ok, so, I have just a few things to go over:
1) I lied a while back. On accident! the Lyrics to that song are "Pride is really falling, I'm proud that I'm not proud." I missheard. So Lynsey, dear, I am sorry. It is from an awesome song called "Here's to Now" by Ugly Casanova.
2)Turns out I only had one thing! Great!
Love you all and I cannot wait to see you!
Katie
So, it is official! When I come home at Christmas I will not be returning to Georgia. I am excited but I also feel guilty, despite the lovely words of comfort from everybody. But, I am pretty sure my guilt will fade fast! Ok, so, I have just a few things to go over:
1) I lied a while back. On accident! the Lyrics to that song are "Pride is really falling, I'm proud that I'm not proud." I missheard. So Lynsey, dear, I am sorry. It is from an awesome song called "Here's to Now" by Ugly Casanova.
2)Turns out I only had one thing! Great!
Love you all and I cannot wait to see you!
Katie
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
An exceedingly boring post that Anika wants...
Dear all,
Anika has asked repeatedly what I do on a day to day basis.
So, here goes:
On every school day except for blessed Tuesdays (my lie in day, as Shelia calls it ), I wake up at about 8:30, get dressed as fast as I can, brush my teeth and my hair, and leave the house before 8:45. School starts at 9 in the morning. Tragically, today is a Tuesday, and in my haste to leave the house, I did not recognize that. So I missed on of the things I look forward to all week. Sleeping in on Tuesday. So, anyway, once I get to school, I go to class. I teach three classes a week with a teacher named Zhana. She speaks very little English, and the kids speak even less. I don't really do much in those classes. I correct a lot of mistakes, and act as the tape player, in reading out English passages in my best slow monotone voice.
The rest of my classes I teach with Ia. We have a lot of classes. Every week they seem to be giving me more. In the classes with Ia I am more involved, but sometimes I really feel like it is pretty pointless, my being here and all. In classes with Ia I am more involved, but I still feel like I don't do much. But it is exhausting.
I spend all day making sure that I do not commit any offenses. And I do anyway. The kids laugh at me for no apparent reason, and no matter what I wear, I am judged. My shoes especially seem to be some sort of village discussion topic. When I wore my Chacos for the first month and a half, every old lady in town would shake her head when she looked at my feet. The kids would point them out to each other. Then, one cool morning when I wore my black trainers, It was like I was an alien. It is because all the teachers here wear these horrible high heeled black boot things. Not only can I not afford them, I also really don't want to wear them. The others will get used to the differences in dress, or at least they will shut up about it. Maybe.
Anyway, after school on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday I teach the older kids who never had a chance to learn English. The president apparently initiated a sort of exit exam, that includes an English portion. This really peeved the Russian and German teachers, as well as basically everybody, off. So, pretty soon here I am going to be teaching that class all alone. As soon as my co teacher has "taught them the alphabet" she will abandon them to me. I told her that I did not want to do it and that I have no teaching experience and other stuff. But the administrators think that if one volunteer can do something, we all can. I think there is some sort of heroic super teacher out there, screwing over the rest of us teachers, making us all look bad.
Once I am finally home, exhausted from school, I generally curl up in my freezing room and try to take a nap, or I sit next to the fire and read my book. Not much of anything happens. On Wednesdays I go to Sachkhere and meet up with Shelia, Christina, and Jaime, and maybe a few others, for some food and conversation. At other times throughout the week I do this and that. I may go on a run or a walk, peel a mound of potatoes, pop the corn off dried cobbs for the chickens, or do varous other activities. On the weekends I either stay at home and do nothing, or I travel! I have been to Batumi once, Tbilisi four times, and Chiatura once.
I have been blessed enough to go to church three times already, and I really love it. I am making tons of good friends, and learning a lot.
Love Katie
Anika has asked repeatedly what I do on a day to day basis.
So, here goes:
On every school day except for blessed Tuesdays (my lie in day, as Shelia calls it ), I wake up at about 8:30, get dressed as fast as I can, brush my teeth and my hair, and leave the house before 8:45. School starts at 9 in the morning. Tragically, today is a Tuesday, and in my haste to leave the house, I did not recognize that. So I missed on of the things I look forward to all week. Sleeping in on Tuesday. So, anyway, once I get to school, I go to class. I teach three classes a week with a teacher named Zhana. She speaks very little English, and the kids speak even less. I don't really do much in those classes. I correct a lot of mistakes, and act as the tape player, in reading out English passages in my best slow monotone voice.
The rest of my classes I teach with Ia. We have a lot of classes. Every week they seem to be giving me more. In the classes with Ia I am more involved, but sometimes I really feel like it is pretty pointless, my being here and all. In classes with Ia I am more involved, but I still feel like I don't do much. But it is exhausting.
I spend all day making sure that I do not commit any offenses. And I do anyway. The kids laugh at me for no apparent reason, and no matter what I wear, I am judged. My shoes especially seem to be some sort of village discussion topic. When I wore my Chacos for the first month and a half, every old lady in town would shake her head when she looked at my feet. The kids would point them out to each other. Then, one cool morning when I wore my black trainers, It was like I was an alien. It is because all the teachers here wear these horrible high heeled black boot things. Not only can I not afford them, I also really don't want to wear them. The others will get used to the differences in dress, or at least they will shut up about it. Maybe.
Anyway, after school on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday I teach the older kids who never had a chance to learn English. The president apparently initiated a sort of exit exam, that includes an English portion. This really peeved the Russian and German teachers, as well as basically everybody, off. So, pretty soon here I am going to be teaching that class all alone. As soon as my co teacher has "taught them the alphabet" she will abandon them to me. I told her that I did not want to do it and that I have no teaching experience and other stuff. But the administrators think that if one volunteer can do something, we all can. I think there is some sort of heroic super teacher out there, screwing over the rest of us teachers, making us all look bad.
Once I am finally home, exhausted from school, I generally curl up in my freezing room and try to take a nap, or I sit next to the fire and read my book. Not much of anything happens. On Wednesdays I go to Sachkhere and meet up with Shelia, Christina, and Jaime, and maybe a few others, for some food and conversation. At other times throughout the week I do this and that. I may go on a run or a walk, peel a mound of potatoes, pop the corn off dried cobbs for the chickens, or do varous other activities. On the weekends I either stay at home and do nothing, or I travel! I have been to Batumi once, Tbilisi four times, and Chiatura once.
I have been blessed enough to go to church three times already, and I really love it. I am making tons of good friends, and learning a lot.
Love Katie
Saturday, October 23, 2010
If prides my only folly, I'm proud that I'm not proud
Dear all,
First, ten points to whoever tells me who sings those lyrics. No internet cheating please!
Next. Pride. I am way to proud. It makes a fool of me. Here is a story which proves what a proud fool I am:
One Friday last I was trying to make my way to Tbilisi. I walked from my house to the nearest off time frequent marshutka stop. (Marshutkas and their mysterious schedules are not a thing to be trifled with.) I waited patiently for a few minutes for a ride to come along. Eventually one of the white minibuses showed up, so I hopped inside. It was fantastically crowded. It started off in a direction I had never gone before. I was under the impression that the marshutka would simply drive a ways down the road, turn around, and take me to my desired destination. But that was not my fate. After about thirty minutes of driving, stopping, people getting on and off, driving, stopping, people getting on and off, driving, and so on, the marshutka came to a stop. A real stop this time. Not the previous idle. The driver had backed the marshutka into what seemed to be a shady little glen. I think it must be his normal spot. Because there was no need to park for shade, as it was raining.
At this point, I was sitting in the front seat of the marshutka, nearest the door. Here is where my pride hit me first. This was not my desired destination. I honestly had no idea where we were. The driver and most of the passengers were staring at me with this look that clearly stated, "Silly girl, she does not know where we are!" But rather than shake my head stupidly and remain seated, I bounced off the marshutka, gave the driver some money, and bounded off down a street. I almost wrote "bounded off down the street" but the article "the" would imply that I had some vauge ideas about it. But I did not. I walked down a street (it was a lovely little walk) for about fifteen minutes, at which time I did an about face and began to walk back the way I had come. I figured that I had walked long enough for most of the people to have dispersed, or that they would think I had completed an actual task. Just as I rounded the corner that gave me the first view of where the marshutka had parked, I saw it driving away.
So I walked. I walked for about an hour and a half, with my backpack and everything. I still had no idea where I was, so I just followed the road most traveled. The man in that poem had more time than I had. Anyway, at one point I can to a T in the road. I was so happy, because I recognized right where I was. But then I did not know if I should go left or right. So I swallowed that stupid pride, and asked this boy sitting on a fence which way to Savane. I am glad I asked, because he told me the opposite of the way I was inclined to go. So, eventually, I ended up back in the right place. Stupid pride.
Katie
*Mom guessed John Gorka. She was wrong. Any other guesses?
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Why my Mom is awesome. Also, I am still alive.
This is an email my mom sent me after my last post. It contains the truth:
Katie dearest,
I just wanted to make sure you survived the possible clown invasion. You speak the truth about those varmits and I support your efforts to eradicate their very existence. You see, clowns are the only known zombies that roam in licensed packs. That's why they are kept in tents. That is a natural defense to their venomous breath. OK live well, keep the world free from the notion that clowns can and will stay contained.
MY LOVE TO YOU, MA
Turns out the "circus" was not of the clown variety. Thank heavens. It was a man in a big tie, doing silly little magic tricks. The little kids were all crowded around at the bottom of the auditorium, and they were so cute. They gasped and laughed in all the right places. The older kids and a few adults at the top mostly just laughed. But then the assistant started doing his tricks, and it was not so fun anymore. His tricks were the gross kind. Like laying on nails and knifes and stepping on glass. It was most likely not as bad as I think it was, but I could not actually see what was going on. It turned my stomach. Then right at the end, he jumped on the glass, and it made the exact same sound that was made when I stepped on a beer bottle at the end of the Tomatina. Ew. I was frazzled.
I recovered. Eventually.
Katie dearest,
I just wanted to make sure you survived the possible clown invasion. You speak the truth about those varmits and I support your efforts to eradicate their very existence. You see, clowns are the only known zombies that roam in licensed packs. That's why they are kept in tents. That is a natural defense to their venomous breath. OK live well, keep the world free from the notion that clowns can and will stay contained.
MY LOVE TO YOU, MA
Turns out the "circus" was not of the clown variety. Thank heavens. It was a man in a big tie, doing silly little magic tricks. The little kids were all crowded around at the bottom of the auditorium, and they were so cute. They gasped and laughed in all the right places. The older kids and a few adults at the top mostly just laughed. But then the assistant started doing his tricks, and it was not so fun anymore. His tricks were the gross kind. Like laying on nails and knifes and stepping on glass. It was most likely not as bad as I think it was, but I could not actually see what was going on. It turned my stomach. Then right at the end, he jumped on the glass, and it made the exact same sound that was made when I stepped on a beer bottle at the end of the Tomatina. Ew. I was frazzled.
I recovered. Eventually.
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