Yesterday I experienced my first massage in Georgia. Let me paint you a little picture - awhile back I came to find out there was a place to get massages right on my walk to school. It didn’t look like a spa that’s for sure, but I thought great, I can get a relaxing massage right down the road whenever I want one and for only 10 lari (about $6.50). My host mother set up an appointment for me for Saturday at 1 pm. I arrive there realizing it doubles as an aptiaqi (pharmacy) for women. There’s various hair products and maxi pads lining the shelves...literally, I think that’s all had. I’m directed to sit down in a chair next to a tarp hanging up, which provides the sole privacy I will be afforded during my pending massage. It’s now my turn and so I walk into the separate area where she directs me to undress. As a side-note, I’ve been to a few spas over the years in the US and of course they’re all about affording you some privacy, such as when you are asked to undress they leave the room and wait for you to get covered under the sheets...I should have known better. Here in Georgia that kind of privacy is a foreign concept (pun intended). I realized she has no intention of going anywhere so I better get to it...when in Georgia after all. It’s no big deal so long as I don’t make it one. I strip down to the point where I realize my choice of underwear on that one particular day out of all the days I’ve been here is definitely the worst for this particular occasion. I lie down on my stomach, trying to forget that right now she has an up close and personal view of my butt and am relieved when she places a cover over my lower half. The massage is underway and it’s great, I’m relaxed and soaking up my extremely cheap massage. I hear the familiar voice of one of my 9th grade students Tamuna. She is in my class of about 12 students, which I teach by myself twice a week. My masseur is using her as a translator and after about a minute of conversation I realize she’s not conversing with us beyond the tarp, but is in fact directly behind the massage table. Skip ahead about 10 minutes when it’s time to massage my legs and feet - that cover I enjoyed is now carelessly tossed aside and there is my a** in circus underwear, as my mother affectionately calls it, exposed to the world. Tamuna occasionally ventures back to chat so more, all the while I’m repeating over and over in my head ‘when in Georgia, when in Georgia’ - my 13 year old student has now seen my a**. Like any massage at some point you turn over to have your front half massaged --- there was no cover offered at all and Tamuna was once again asking me some questions from behind the massage bed....when in Georgia - my 13 year old student has now seen me almost completely naked. An experience for the books most definitely.
I haven’t spent a great deal of time wandering around my village. The weather has been really nice lately, not too hot but still sunny and warm, my kind of fall. As I ventured home from my massage, laughing to myself about the ridiculousness of the whole situation, enjoying a sweet pomegranate I picked off a neighbor’s tree, I realized this is the perfect day to do a bit of exploring. Pomegranate in hand, I start down the road aiming for the foothills in the distance that one day I am determined to climb to the top of. I follow the dirt road for a good 20 or 30 minutes when I come upon a small river. In the summer the kids talk about how they like to spend their summers at the Black Sea or the river. While I’m pretty sure I’ve discovered that same river I believe further downstream several rivers converge and I imagine some great swimming spots are provided. I ended up rock hopping upstream for a bit and eventually looping back home. Tiko’s there and I decide to introduce her to the new exercise program I plan to start at school for the girls and so we do a bit of dancing on the porch. Fresh grapes and various fruit are served and then as the rest of the family gets home from their days’ activities everyone sits down to enjoy a bit more food. I take up residence at my new favorite spot and spend the rest of the afternoon writing this blog and reading. It was a good day, a day to remind me why I really do love it here -- fresh fruit just a fingertip away, every meal served outside on the porch, my teachers assuring me they consider me a good girl and a hard worker...and seeing my host dad getting wasted at a supra.
My final story for this blog post - A few days ago I come to find out we're going somewhere. Of course I have no idea where they're saying we're going, but, when in Georgia, so we all pile in the car and head off down the road. Eventually we pull into someone's house and I come to realize it's Judith's host family's house, who I originally drove back to the village with that first day we met our families. Turns out it's her birthday and we're here for a supra (feast). The food is delicious and the company very warm and welcoming. My host dad keeps insisting I drink more wine, which I politely refuse to do (I'm still not digging the wine just yet, but here's to hoping), while he continues enjoying all of his. As the night goes on Valeri, my host dad and Judith's have consumed an impressive amount of wine. The toasts start to become a bit repetitive and suddenly both men are very keen to make toasts using the English they're provided by Judith's little host sister. I think the two main phrases they each took away from that night were drink!, I heard that a lot over the course of the evening, and children - there were a lot of toasts to children...of Georgia, of the world, in our families, etc. Overall, it was a very fun and memorable evening here in Georgia.
P.S. A story I forgot to mention. Jenna and I went to Kutaisi last weekend to get online for a bit. While waiting at my marshutka stop a man in a truck asked if we needed a ride. In our broken Georgian we tried to say we were going to Kutaisi, but we could also go to Bagdati and catch a ride from there. He rambled off a lot we didn't understand but we sort of assumed he said he'd drive us to Bagdati. We get in his truck and just before we reach Bagdati he turns of on a side road. We're making our way up into a housing area and after a 10 minute trek we reach a spot where he apparently has to unload the pipes in the back of his truck? This was a surprise to us not realizing we had agreed to go with him while he finishes...work? We wait for a good 20 minutes at this point, laughing about how ridiculous this all is also hoping he isn't just going to drop us off in Bagdati, which was literally just down the road from where we originally turned off, but at least taking us the whole way to Kutaisi. Turns out that's just what he did, drove us all the way to Kutaisi saving us our 2 lari and providing us with yet another good Georgian story, thanks random truck driver.
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| One of Tiko's photos she took from our backyard |
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| The man who helped our driver to Kutaisi unload his supplies |
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| See the P.S. above, just chilling in the truck |
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| At least we had a nice view while we waited |
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| View from my backyard |
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| Another view. If you see the house in the middle, it's up into the valley in the middle I followed the river |
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| Our next door neighbor's house |
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| In that big trough in the back is where the grapes are dumped and later squished to create the wine. I hope at some point to take part in that escapade. |
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| Persimmons - it took a long time to figure out quite what these are but they are delicious. Yet another delicious fruit right at my fingertips! |
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| My toilet - got locked in there a few days ago by the 2 year old neighbor and had to climb out the back window. Current score, Manana -1, Carly - 0 |
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| Our porch where I spend practically my entire afternoon most days either eating, reading, or playing cards |
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| My new favorite spot, outdoor bed on the porch that's great for reading |
