What I've been doing...

One of my responsibilities at IOCC Georgia is to write beneficiary stories. Here is one of them.

Chargali

Yesterday (July 5), I visited Chargali, the birthplace and home of Vazha-Pshavela, in the Pshavi region of Georgia (~60 kilometers north-north east of Tbilisi).

The trip was organized by my former Georgian teacher, Nana. During my previous stay in Georgia, it was through Nana's trips that I visited Gergeti and Bodbe Monastery. I enjoy going on Nana's trips, not only because they're great opportunities to visit extraordinary parts of Georgia, but because Nana always manages to invite such an interesting and fun-loving group of Georgians.

This time, we were a party of nine: Nana, five middle-aged Georgian women (Nino, Tiniko, another Nana (Tiniko's sister), Gunda, and a half-Russian whose name I've forgotten), Temo (my Georgian host-dad and good friend of Nana), Adam (a PhD student from the States, who is doing research on the Georgian wine industry--lucky fellow--and is also a student of Nana), and myself.

Chargali is a tiny little village tucked away in the green foothills of the Caucasus. The first half of the drive was along the relatively well-maintained Georgian Military Highway, but once we reached the Zhinvali reservoir dam, we went off the highway onto a very poorly maintained road which followed the Aragvi River up to Chargali.

Besides Vazha-Pshavela's two-room house, which is now a museum, and the beautiful surroundings, Chargali is an unremarkable village. Nonetheless, Georgians revere this poet and writer, and still flock to his birthplace. As Temo explained to me, Vazha-Pshavela's (whose real name was Luka Razikashvili) poems while beautiful in their own right, all contain a strong political message: Don't mess with Georgia. Since last August's war, Vazha-Pshavela, not surprisingly, has become rather popular again.

After touring Vazha's bedroom, complete with a butter-churner and 19th century German sewing machine, we piled back into our marshrutka in anticipation of the main event of the day: our supra. We each had brought food for our picnic feast. I provided cheese, cucumbers, tomatoes, and apricots; Adam, of course, wine. We found a nice shady spot by the river and began to feast. Nana told me earlier that Tiniko was a great singer, and sure enough, after a few glasses of Saperavi, she was belting out Georgian folk songs. A few glasses later, I found myself trying to learn a traditional Georgian dance from the other Nana, and failing miserably.

Just about when we had finished the last of our wine, it began to rain, and so we quickly packed our things and headed back to Tbilisi. We all had such a good time, that we're thinking of where we should go next weekend. Right now, it's looking like Lagodekhi (a state-protected area in eastern Georgia).

Meanwhile, I have Temo's birthday party today to attend... My goodness, I think Georgian hospitality is going to kill me this time around!

In Tbilisi

I'm back in Tbilisi, and it's as if I never left.

My 22-hour journey from DC to Tbilisi, with a 10+ hour layover in Munich, went by without a hitch. During my layover in Munich, I left the airport and went into the city center. I walked around the city and saw a few sites, but just after buying a crepe slathered with nutella (I know, I know, what am I doing eating a crepe in Germany?) the skies opened up and it began to pour rain. I took refuge in a doorway and tried to wait it out, but the rain kept coming and my things were starting to get wet. So I bought an umbrella. For those of you who know me well, I've never owned an umbrella. This one was both crappy and expensive, but it did the job.

Relatively dry, I returned to the airport where I divided the remaining four hours before my flight to Tbilisi between taking naps in the terminal and exploring the half-dozen or so identical duty-free shops. As my departure neared, I realized that I had been sitting at the wrong gate. There had been a change. I knew I had found the right gate when I saw Georgians surrounded by mounds of carry-on luggage. Lufthansa now limits economy class passengers to just one carry-on (plus a "personal item"), but that didn't stop some of the passengers on my flight from bringing four or more large items. One passenger had a half-dozen and was asking those who had only one or two items to take them on board for him.

I arrived in Tbilisi at 3 am, breezed through passport control (I was afraid they would see my Afghan visa and not let me through...), collected my bags, and was met by Levan from the NGO for whom I am working. During the brief 20 minute drive from the airport to my apartment, I could see that Tbilisi had changed quite a bit since I was last here in March of 2008. New buildings line the highway (the "George W. Bush Street"), including a new glass structure that is now home to the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Saakashvili has a new residence on a hillside (next to the Mother of Georgia statue) overlooking Old Tbilisi that is also made out of glass. Rumors are that due to harassment by opposition protesters, Saakashvili is spending more of his time at his vacation residence in the West Georgian province of Adjara. Instead of driving the more direct route of going along Rustaveli Avenue to my apartment in Vera, Levan made a detour along the Mtkvari River. Rustaveli Avenue by the Parliament building and Freedom Square has been closed due to ongoing opposition protests. There, the street is occupied with mock cells that were erected when the protests began on April 9.

My apartment in Vera is quite nice, almost too nice. It is a one bedroom apartment with a huge living room, kitchen, and balcony. You can see photos on my flickr page. It's beautifully furnished. My apartment is also conveniently located withing walking distance from the NGO's office. This means that I won't have to take any marshrutkas!! (Read about my marshrutka experiences in Bishkek here.)

Even though I got to my apartment by 4am, I couldn't go to sleep until about 7am, and even then, I only slept for four hours. When I got up, I realized that I had no way of getting in touch with anybody: my cell phone which I used when I was in Tbilisi last year had broken, and I had lost the SIM card along with all the phone numbers stored in it. The first order of business, then, was to get a phone. But I knew I needed some help from a Georgian friend to make sure that I wouldn't be ripped off, so I headed out to Sameba Cathedral where I knew I could count on finding some of my friends. Sure enough, Kuku and Natia were there. They were very happy to see me, and I them.

Once liturgy was over (the Patriarch serves here, so liturgy usually lasts a minimum of 3 1/2 hours), we left for the bazaar where I managed to buy a sweet phone for a good price (by the way, feel free to call me! +995 57 343873). Next, Kuku and Natia took me to another old friend's place nearby, where we celebrated my return Georgian style (chacha...). I and my friends were surprised and happy to see that I had forgotten very little of my Georgian. I was expecting that it would take a couple of weeks at least before I could speak fluently again, but I've been chatting away in Georgian the moment I set foot on Georgian soil (in fact, I didn't speak a word of English on Sunday until my family called me that night).

On Monday, I had my first day at work. I've been asked not to write about my work at this NGO, so unfortunately, I can't go into too much detail. I'll just say that everyone at the office is extremely friendly, and that I'm being challenged in a good way. A large part of my responsibility will be to write beneficiary stories. And since the beneficiaries live in impoverished regions outside of Tbilisi, that's where I'll be spending a day or two every week doing interviews and monitoring the NGO in action.

Today, I will be going to the Shida Kartli region, and will be visiting villages just mere kilometers from the South Ossetian border...

Here I go again...

It has been nearly a year since I last posted. It also happens to be nearly a year since I had an adventure.

But that's about to change.

In just a couple of weeks, I will be arriving in... yup, you guessed it, Tbilisi, Georgia. This time, I will be traveling to Georgia as a summer intern for a humanitarian and developmental aid NGO. I am still somewhat short on details for exactly what I will be doing, but from what I know, some of my responsibilities will include evaluating their programs (which include: A school lunch program, food distribution program for refugees from last year's war, HIV/AIDS awareness, and an agricultural development program, among others) and writing articles for their newsletter.

When I left Georgia at the end of March last year, I didn't think I would be coming back for at least another two years. But even though only 14 1/2 months have passed since I last set foot on Georgia, Georgia has changed a lot. Yes, there was a war last August. But the crisis in Georgia has anything but abated. There have been nonstop street protests in Tbilisi since April 9. The protesters are demanding that President Saakashvili resign. Recently, the protesters have taken to disrupting daily life in any way. A week or so ago, they shut down Tbilisi's train station, and later threatened to shut down the airport... Let's just hope my plane gets to land when I arrive on June 21st!

It looks like I'm going to have an interesting summer!

Home; New Blog

For those who still visit this blog hoping to find out if I survived my trip to Tajikistan, well I have. It was an amazing trip; almost too amazing to put into words (for example, this picture is of an Afghan Caravan in the Wakhan Valley. We were in Tajikistan, they were in Afghanistan--we were all at the edge of the world)--though fear not! When I have time/don't feel lazy, I'll try to write all the details of the trip. Meanwhile, take a look at my pictures.

I'd also like to mention that I've created a new blog. Unlike this blog, tarjimani.blogspot.com was created for me, not necessarily for readers. As you might have gathered from reading this blog, I've learned a couple of languages during my year abroad (Georgian and Russian), and I don't want to forget them. That's why I've made it a summer project of mine to translate Russian and Georgian materials (news articles and literature, mostly) and post them online. Read my first blog entry for a more detailed description of the blog's aims.

Tajikistan

Many apologies… long time no post. I didn’t expect to find myself adjusting so quickly to life in Kyrgyzstan, but I have, and I don’t feel touristy enough to write about things in Bishkek. But bug me about it enough and I will.

A brief description of what I’m doing currently:

I’m going on my 4^th week of living in an apartment with another student (Chris) from the London School. I left my homestay after 5 weeks because I wasn’t getting much conversation practice out of it, wasn’t being fed very well, and didn’t ever really feel at home. The apartment is only a 10 minute walk from school (compared to 45 minutes before) and has a breath-taking view of the mountains (we’re on the 8^th floor). Pictures soon.

I’m still studying at the London School, where I continue to be impressed by the quality of teaching. The three teachers I’ve had (Sveta, Kaira, and Olga) have really pushed me and, though I wouldn’t quite consider myself fluent yet, I can now speak Russian with much greater ease. My two hours of reading/listening Russian literature (Nabokov, Bunin, Aldanov…) with Kaira each day has helped me the most. I chose to only do 16 hours a week (4 hours/day, Monday – Thursday) for my most recent contract which began 3 weeks ago so that I could use the three day weekend to make more substantial trips out of the city…

…Such as going to Tajikistan. This is not a three day trip—it’s a 12 day one on the Pamir Highway, the second highest highway in the world (most of it is well over 4000 meters or 13,200 ft with the highest pass at 4,655 meters or 15,360 ft—that’s higher than any mountain in the lower 48). Chris, Rory (another London School student), and I decided only last Sunday to go to Tajikistan. The conversation pretty much went like this: “Hey, let’s go to Tajikistan next week!” “Sounds cool! Let’s do it!” Since that conversation, we’ve applied and received our Tajik Visas and GBAO Permits (necessary to travel the Pamir Highway), bought one-way tickets from Dushanbe to Bishkek, reserved land transportation, and contacted a community based tourism (CBT) agency in Tajikistan to arrange our home (yurt) stays.

Here’s the plan:

Tuesday (3 June) morning, we’ll leave bright and early from Bishkek, probably hiring a taxi from Osh Bazaar, for the 10-12 hour drive to Osh, the largest city in Southern Kyrgyzstan. Arrive in Osh in the evening, see if we can get a few supplies, exchange money, and spend the night in the Osh Guesthouse.

Wednesday (4 June) morning, we’ll again get up quite early for the ~7 hour drive from Osh to Karakul (a Tajik lake formed by a meteor impact) where we’ll stay in a house or yurt. Karakul is almost at an elevation of 4000 meters, which means we won’t be acclimatizing to the elevation gradually, as we should (oh well…).

Thursday (5 June) we’ll get up from our smelly yurt, see Karakul properly before getting back in the car for the 5+ hour drive to Murgab. Murgab is home to META (Murgab Ecotourism Association) which can arrange amazing things like staying in yurts. Hikes between yurts. Camel trekking through the mountains from one yurt to another. But seriously, we plan to stay in the Murgab area for at least 3 days doing all of the above.

Saturday/Sunday we’ll leave Murgab for another yurt/home stay in Bulunkul (probably).

Monday-ish we’ll head for the next yurt in Ishkashim, a small town that is interesting because it borders Afghanistan… On the way, we’ll be sure to stop and admire the Hindu Kush Mountains and maybe see a snow leopard or some Marco Polo sheep.

Tuesday-ish we’ll make it to Khorog. Not sure what we’re going to do there.

Wednesday-ish head for Dushanbe, most likely breaking up the 21 hour drive with a night somewhere in the middle.

Thursday-ish be in Dushanbe. Eat at the Georgian restaurant. See what else there is to do.

Friday-ish, go to Khojand in the north. Drop off Chris, who’ll continue his adventures by making a land-crossing into Uzbekistan.

Saturday-ish, Rory and I will return to Dushanbe. Eat at the other Georgian restaurant.

On Sunday we kind of have to be in Dushanbe to catch our flight back to Bishkek (but our tickets are refundable…).

As you’ve seen, our itinerary quickly becomes quite useless after Murgab, which is fine by us—as long as we’re looking out of a yurt at the peaks of the Pamir Mountains.

Bishkek: First Impressions

I’ve been in Bishkek for almost 2 weeks now (wow…), and am starting to get a feel for the city. Of course, I find myself comparing everything in Bishkek to what I’ve experienced in Tbilisi. Before coming to Bishkek, I was expecting to find a city that was “Tbilisi 10 years ago” (this is actually from a Kyrgyz friend I met in Tbilisi, though she hadn’t been in Bishkek for almost two years)—one that was rife with corruption, power outages, and a generally poor infrastructure. In Georgia, whenever I mentioned my next destination, I received responses that boiled down to “why would you ever want to go there?”

But I’ve been pleasantly surprised.

True, I would never call Bishkek a beautiful city. It is a relatively new city (nothing much until it was built up by the Soviets) with no “old town” with pretty architecture. But it’s apparent that it was a planned city. Unlike Tbilisi with its winding streets and a city plan that can best be described as illogical or “historic”, Bishkek is blessed with wide perpendicular streets that rarely get clogged with traffic. In the center of town, lush bench-filled parks are interspersed among the various government buildings. Even away from the center, the soviet-era block apartment buildings (like the one I live in) are usually separated from each other by trees and small playgrounds. I was shocked to find that Bishkek is home to a handful of malls, some of which might as well have been transplanted from the West—Tbilisi has a grand total of zero malls. Then there are the nice little touches like having not only water 24/7 (in my district in Tbilisi, water is shut off 12 hours every day), but centrally heated hot water. Even the dreaded marshrutkas (more on that later) are regulated, being more or less all the same model of Mercedes van, unlike Tbilisi’s as-long-as-it-moves-and-can-hold-more-people-than-it-should marshrutkas.

But I’m constantly reminded that I am in a very poor, post-soviet country in Central Asia. Just last Tuesday, while walking the 100 meters to the marshrutka stop from my home, I saw my neighbors slaughtering a sheep, the father deftly removing the fleece while the mother held the sheep still and the children looked on with interest. Or then there are the death-trap marshrutkas, which despite all being the same model, still hold way too many people. Last Friday, I noticed an unusually large number of people waiting for marshrutkas (there are several, each with its own route, which run by my place) at my stop, and after waiting for 20 minutes, realized that something was wrong. Finally, my marshrutka showed up and I barely squeezed on. The driver explained each time he stopped to pick up more (yes, more) people that they better get on his marshrutka since the other drivers were on strike to demand that fares be doubled from 5 to 10 soms (1 som = ~2.8 USA cents). By the time that it came close for me to get off, I counted 40 people on a van that has seats for 11 or 12. Not fun.

Then there are the inconveniences like not having cheap or easy access to internet because one of the main internet providers in Bishkek charges by the kilobyte of traffic, which has made it difficult to find a place to upload my photos. Or the worry of being stopped by the Militsia on the street without my passport on me, and having to make the decision of either taking the easy way out and just pay a bribe or being taken in to be shouted at for half an hour. (Fortunately, I am much less likely to be stopped than my other American friends because I look Central Asian, specifically Uzbek, according to one of my teachers.) Then there’s the fragile political situation, with a very unpopular president (he was never elected; rather, he made himself president), who until he returned to Bishkek two weeks ago, was rumored to be seriously ill or dead after being absent from the public scene for one month, and the brewing dissatisfaction which makes revolution only a question of when (according to my conversation teacher, 20% chance this spring).

I like to think of it as making life more interesting.

Next: My language school and host family