Nov. 22-24 - Mestia Adventure Part 2

Monday
Linguist had school today, so Boston and I were left to our own devices. We slept very late; for the first time, she was up before me. We took our time getting ready, but then decided to hit the town. Sore muscles stretched and felt better as we moved, but my knees were in agony. My sinuses were also much worse. They hadn’t bothered me too much on the hike, but by this afternoon, I couldn’t breathe.

Since the day was cloudy and drizzly, Boston suggested that I just see a doctor in Mestia. I called the Insurance company and they contacted a clinic for me. I called the woman at the clinic to set up a time and get the address, and things started to get weird. The woman didn’t know the address. She just kept telling me to ask someone in the street and they will tell me where –clinic is. I couldn’t make out the name of the clinic, so I asked again for her just to give me the address (Boston and I had found a city map in the main square, so we were pretty sure we could find it). She kept telling me it was no problem, just ask someone. I explained that I don’t speak Georgian and most of the townspeople don’t speak English, but she repeated, "It’s no problem, just ask someone". I finally got forceful and demanded the address and she said she’d have to call me back. When she called me back, she rattled off the address in a rapid-fire Georgian accent and repeated that "It’s no problem, just ask someone where –clinic is." I still didn’t catch either name, and she decided to tell me the doctor’s name too. After a couple of minutes of this, I asked her to text the information to me. She didn’t answer and hung up (because Georgian’s don’t say good-bye on the phone). She did send a text, and good thing too, because she told me the clinic was number 12, but in the text she wrote 13 and 12 was NOT the right place. We finally figured out where to go and got to the clinic with no more mishaps.

At reception, I told the woman the name of the doctor and she led me down a dark, narrow and creepy hallway. It reminded me of the unused halls in Stephen King’s "Kingdom Hospital". The room she took me to was brightly lit and warm, thanks to a space heater and the doctor asked me what was wrong, in decent (but not excellent) English. (Boston stayed with me the whole time, which I wanted, but no one ever asked if I wanted privacy). I explained about my sinuses and what meds I had already tried. She put on the headband and flipped the mirror down to examine my throat. She made a weird noise and I can only assume that it’s because my throat looked as bad as it felt. Then she looked in my nose. When I started coughing, she decided that we had to go somewhere else, and gestured to her chest. I thought maybe for x-rays (though it seemed excessive) but no. We just had to go down the hall to the woman who had the stethoscope.

Doctor 2 listened to my chest and asked Doctor 1 questions in Georgian, which were then relayed to me. After answering all the questions, the second doctor pulled out a scrap of paper and started writing my perscription. She handed the finished product to the first doctor and we went back to the first room, where she explained what each item was for. There were anti-biotics, as well as cough syrup, throat lozenges and nose drops. Perscription in hand, I thanked the doctor and we left.

Having seen a sign for a pharmacy in the main square, we went back there. But the pharmacy wasn’t open. So I stopped a lady walking past and she pointed around the corner. We thanked her and went in that direction, but there were no signs on any of the doors. As we crossed the square, Boston said, "those people look like they came from a doctor, and they’re walking with purpose. Let’s follow them." So we did and they led us to the pharmacy, where I got all four perscriptions filled for approximately $7.

We went back to the house, through the drizzle, and decided to read by the fire. We settled in and got cozy, but Linguist’s 6 year-old host sister was home from school and she wanted attention. I had my phone on my lap while I read and she noticed the sticker I had on the back. So she went and got her own stickers to decorate my phone. When the sticker she wanted to give me was too big for the phone, she stuck it to the back of my Kobo. It was all very cute.

We spent the whole evening with Linguist and his host family. In preparation for the feastival, host mom and dad used the beeswax from their own bees, to make candles. They warmed the wax on the woodstove and then rolled it over the wick. They cut them apart and rubbed the end on the stove to flatten it. It was really cool to see.

Host dad invited Boston and I to come to the church with him in the morning to watch them bless the sheep for the festival. Since we wanted to go and the blessing needed to be done before sunrise, we went to bed early and got a good night sleep.

Tuesday
The festival today is called Giorgoba, or St George’s name day. In Mestia, to honour St. George, people take an animal to be blessed at church, before sunrise, and then sacrifice it and eat the meat. According to one Svan man, St. George likes sheep best. So before dawn, we were roused from our beds to walk with host dad and a ram through the dark, muddy streets to the church. There were a bunch of men standing around outside the church, some with animals to be blessed (there were many calves, but we had the only sheep), some with khajapuri and some with vodka. And no, the spirits were not for the blessing of the animals, those were for the people, standing in the cold, pre-dawn air.

While the officiant (don’t know if it’s a priest, minister, reverend, pastor or other) used a candle to make the sign of the cross around the sheep, we had a shot of vodka and khajapuri. The next step was turning the sheep 3 times in a circle, then we had to walk it once around the church, before making it turn 3 circles again. Blessing finished, we hung out and socialized for a while longer. The others had more vodka shots, while I watched the sun rise over the mountains behind the church. We walked the sheep back to the house, where host Dad told us to take a nap before the actual sacrifice.

We didn’t nap, but we did relax by the fire until we were called into Linguist’s room, where we could see the backyard through the window. It wasn’t time for the sheep, yet, but host dad’s brother and some friends had a bull, which they were skinning and carving before the sheep could happen. While we watched in horrified fascination, Linguist’s host sisters came in to watch as well. They’re hardy, rugged girls and handled the whole thing much better than me. We played around with the girls during the intermission between bull and sheep, and then finally it was time.

Linguist wanted to be right in the action, so he helped hold down the sheep, while Boston stood in the doorway and took pictures. I sat on the bed at the window, with both sisters on my lap. They killed the sheep by cutting it’s throat. Since sheep have small necks, they were able to cut right through and remove the head. Even with the head gone, the body was still trying to escape, which was actually less disturbing than the bull’s legs moving while they skinned it, because it still had it’s head and for a minute I thought it was still alive. The head and feet get set aside (to be made into a special dish), the horns are cleaned and used for drinking horns and the rest is partioned out and cooked for dinner.

While the men finished skinning the sheep, Boston and I played with the girls. Linguist came back in and we hungout in his room for a while. Once the meat was brought in, we went into the living room, to watch what happened. The testicles of the sheep were fried up and eaten as a delicacy. I had a lot of firsts this weekend, but eating sheep’s balls was not one of them, though Boston and Linguist both tried it. And apparently the right hind leg is particularily lucky, so it got roasted and then we had to pray to St George before they could eat it.

Since it’s a festival day and no one had school, Native (he’s British, but has lived in Georgia for 11 years) and Practically Georgian came over for feasting. Some police also stopped by, so we had a couple of drinks with them. When one of them (already drunk) toasted to "peace in the universe", I looked at Boston and promptly toasted "to the Federation" (a la Star Trek). That remained our fallback toast throughout the day. The food was put out around 1:30pm and we sat at the able eating and drinking for about 6 hours. Linguist’s host dad had been drinking all day, and took a liking to Boston and host mom had to put him to bed around 5, but he came back around 7. Boston, Practically Georgian and I also went for a walk down the main street, because Boston was looking for Mestia souvenirs. The day was beautiful and sunny, though brisk. I was really glad for my hat and scarf.

During the suphra, Boston and I both fielded calls from people expecting us to be home and wondering how our trip was. Tipsy as we were, there was not a whole lot of info shared. Eventually, the suphra wound down and host mom wanted to put host dad to bed for the night. Boston and I also got ready for bed, because the marshrutka to leave Mestia goes at 6am, so we have to be there at 5 to get seats. We said our goodbyes to the family, knowing that they wouldn’t be up in the morning and went to bed.

Wednesday
Another day of travelling. Yipee! We dragged our buts out of bed at 4:15 and got ready to go. Linguist’s host mom got up to put out some breakfast for us. Boston ate, but I only had some bread, not wanting to have a full stomach for the marshrutka ride. We got to the stop and managed to score the 2 front seats. There was a moment of concern when the marshrutka started going in the opposite direction and then turned down a creepy back alley that was barely wider than the vehicle. Three guys got out and disappeared into a building and came out carrying something that may or may not have been a dead body (human, cow, or possibly just a bag of flour). After that, though, we got going in the right direction and the rest of the trip to Zugdidi was uneventful. It was also far less terrifying, thanks to the darkness and the haze I was in from the antibiotics and gravol.

In Zugdidi, I decided to grab a snack (again, nothing big for fear of motion sickness) and went into a store. I wanted a pack of cookies that cost 1 lari, but only had a 5 lari bill on me. The woman couldn’t make change. Not didn’t know how, but didn’t have change for a 5. I was so angry. I found a little market stall and bought a banana and a different pack of cookies, which I shared with Boston while we waited for the marshrutka to leave.

The trip back to Batumi was really quick. There was little traffic, and aside from some near incidents with cows on the road, I didn’t fear for my life. I got out at the station in Kobuleti, though the driver didn’t want to let me. He kept telling me that it wasn’t Batumi. I finally convinced him that I knew what I was doing and he let me out. I caught a cab home. I ate and then had a nap when I finally arrived. I had some texts from various people asking me to confirm safe arrival, which I did. The rest of the day was spent the same as all others; internet, reading, eating, tv, and bed.

Oct. 15 - FML

Back to the regular routine, but it was still a long day. Had breakfast and went to school as usual. Except that with the holiday, the private schools got Thurs and Fri off. Since the kids had no school, and HM never works on Fridays, I was ready and leaving before the family was up. HM met me at the front door, which I opened to find my new best friend, the dog, waiting for me. I said hello and stopped him from jumping up (while HM watched without helping). Then he followed me to the gate and tried to come to school with me. I got it closed before he could get out.

At school, I met Co-teach in class, and most of the students were ready to work (surprising, I know). The grade 9s were making a poster and their homework was to find the info in the text. Most of them did it and they got right down to work. I was annoyed though, because even after instructions in English and Georgian and a diagram on the board, they still ALL did it wrong.
Grade 6 was next and they were fine. They liked the activity and the one really enthusiastic student wasn’t there, so class was easier to manage. On the break between period 2 and 4, managed to get a mosquito bite ON MY PALM. I don’t know how, but it’s really aggravating. My 7s as always were a dream and then there was grade 12.

On Friday, Co-teach and I have a break right before the grade 12 class in period 6. The gr 12s also have a break then, so they asked, the first week of school, if we could have class in period 5 instead and then we could all go early. Obviously, we agreed and we’ve been doing it that way since. Well today, they didn’t show up in period 5.

We went to the cafeteria and visited for a bit, until the bell rang to end class. I went up to class to be ready to start period 6 when the bell rang. 5 minutes later, Co-teach came up and there was still no class, so she went to look for them. Another 5 minutes and she’s back, because she couldn’t find them. We decided to go and packed up. We were literally walking out the door when 6 boys came to class, 15 minutes late.

During class, one had his cell phone out. He was given the option to put the phone away or give it to me. He put it away, until 10 minutes later it rang and he "had to take it". So I told him to leave. A few minutes later he called one of the other boys into the hall to talk, and then there were 4, though the other boy did come back.

Near the end of class, two boys left to catch the bus, leaving us with 3. We finished the activity we were doing and I sent them all home. Mostly because I, too, needed to catch the bus down the mountain.

I got home and changed, tossed what I needed into my new purse and was ready to go in about 10 minutes. I had to go to the library, to geocell and I’d made plans to have dinner with Joker. The whole family was outside when I got there, watching HD get ready to shoot things.
They had a target (which was an opened up box with a + printed on it) strung up in the tree opposite the gate, with nothing but (downward sloping) mountainside behind it. HD had a rifle-y-looking gun (I dunno what it was) and he was standing halfway up the outside stairs. He shot across the courtyard, over the perimetre wall and across the street at the target. It was loud and frightning. I think the scariest thing is that he had no visibility of the street. Anyone could have been walking by and you wouldn’t have known.

They flagged down a car for me and I escaped without injury. In Kobuleti I flagged down a marshrutka. It was really nice and only me and two other guys got on. They sat in the front so I had the whole back to myself. In spite of the crazy, windy detour, I got to Batumi without needing a gravol. Once in the city, though, things got weird. The driver turned down a street where marshrutkas don’t normally turn and dropped off the guys. Then he asked me where I was going.

In turn, I asked where he was going and he said the station. That was fine with me, so he took me to the station. He was very concerned for me, but I told him I was meeting a friend nearby and everything was fine. He wouldn’t let me pay him and told me to have a good day.

Unfortunately, because he drove around the station before letting me out, I’d lost my bearings. But I picked a direction and started walking like I knew right where I was going. I didn’t. I wandered around for a good 45 minutes, looking for the library. I’d spotted landmarks and made my way to them, but I was always just a little off. Finally Joker called just as I figured out where I was and how to get where I was going. I had been planning to run all of my errands before meeting him and instead, just met him at the Sheraton. On our way to dinner we passed the library street. Since he had books to return as well, we stopped in.

The restaurant that I thought was a Chinese restaurant wasn’t, but it was pretty cheap and had lots of veggie options and an English menu. Joker and I both had kartophili khingali (giant dumplings filled with mashed potatoes) and lobiani khadjapuri (bread boat filled with bean paste). It was really good and we watched a storm move in over the water while we ate.

After dinner we both had to go to Goodwill. I stocked up on cereal and chocolate, since I never know when I’ll be able to get to a store. I also bought a chocolate dessert. The bottom was about 1/4 inch of sponge cake and then a dome of chocolate mousse. Inside there was a pocket of liquid dark chocolate and nuts and the whole thing had a dark chocolate shell. It was quite possibly the best thing I’d ever eaten.

I was one of the first people on the marshrutka I caught to Kobuleti, so I got to sit in a single seat by the door. It was the second marshrutka today that had seatbelts. I was surprised, because no one wears seatbelts here, even in private vehicles. The trip back was uneventful and I easily caught a cab up the mountain.

At home, I read for a bit upstairs. Then I joined the family for a couple of cups of tea. I’m still feeling under the weather, and my throat is scratchy, so I went to bed early.