Picnicing (sort of) in the country side
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Friday, July 29, 2005
Bland and boring
So in case you’ve been wondering what I’ve been up to all this week, unfortunately, I don’t have any exciting news for you. Mainly because my belly is still feeling quite sick and I’ve been attempting to nurse it back to health which means staying home a lot and not going out for lavish, delicious dinners. It’s getting a little better but just in case, I am sticking to rather bland and boring food, mainly consisting of potatoes and bread. Eating bland and boring food is making my life really bland and boring. The worst thing is that I am constantly starving. And feeling exhausted and completely drained of any energy. Today I spent a few hours in the city and once got home at 6pm, I had to take a long nap to feel a little more like a normally functioning person. All I want to do is just eat a sizzling chunk of shashlik and drink some beer. Due to all this starvation, I’ve been dreaming about American hamburgers -- my dreams consist of back yards, grills, and juicy, medium rare burgers. Fortunately, I have friends who happen to be burger lovers and we’ve already arranged for a burger munching get-together immediately upon my arrival to the States.
Speaking of arrival to the States, I would like to thank anyone who had kindly prayed to his/her god(s) and performed any other rituals to increase my chances of changing my departure day. My ticket has been extended and I will be going back in mid-August. A minor thing that took several visits to KLM and Airzena offices and my writing a really angry email to KLM. Although my travel agent claims it was all her doing but I really doubt it because no one has paid for my new tickets yet, so technically speaking, although I can leave later, I can’t until someone pays for my ticket. If my travel agent was so vigilant, shouldn’t the ticket be paid already? But whatever, a minor detail. Let’s hope that the latest rumors about changes in visa rules will work out in my favor because apparently, if you overstay your visa (which I have), they charge you a ton of money. According to the latest rumors, Americans now can stay up to 90 days, if anyone out there reading this can verify it, I would appreciate it. Clearly, I am too lazy to do so myself.
Oh man, I am starving. Time to fill up on some bread.
Speaking of arrival to the States, I would like to thank anyone who had kindly prayed to his/her god(s) and performed any other rituals to increase my chances of changing my departure day. My ticket has been extended and I will be going back in mid-August. A minor thing that took several visits to KLM and Airzena offices and my writing a really angry email to KLM. Although my travel agent claims it was all her doing but I really doubt it because no one has paid for my new tickets yet, so technically speaking, although I can leave later, I can’t until someone pays for my ticket. If my travel agent was so vigilant, shouldn’t the ticket be paid already? But whatever, a minor detail. Let’s hope that the latest rumors about changes in visa rules will work out in my favor because apparently, if you overstay your visa (which I have), they charge you a ton of money. According to the latest rumors, Americans now can stay up to 90 days, if anyone out there reading this can verify it, I would appreciate it. Clearly, I am too lazy to do so myself.
Oh man, I am starving. Time to fill up on some bread.
Monday, July 25, 2005
This is a disclaimer
For the record, I got sick either from eating something rotten or drinking crappy tap water. Not from drinking alcohol! I am sure projectile diarrhea does not happen from drinking a couple of glasses of wine. Unless it’s crappy wine. But this one came from a bottle from a reputable place. I know I drink a lot, but this time, please send me comforting emails, asking me how I am feeling and if my belly has stopped rumbling... not making fun of my drinking problems... Oops, did I say problem?
Whao!
Your Inner European is Russian! |
 Mysterious and exotic. You've got a great balance of danger and allure. |
“S” is for sh*t
After losing my sandals to Chavchavadze avenue, my weekend took a spiraling downturn. Well, Friday night was really nice, I went to dinner with a friend and we laughed a whole lot. Then passed out in bed completely exhausted (removing tar from one’s foot with nail polish remover is hard work).
Anyways, I woke up on Saturday, feeling a little queasy. The queasiness did not go away until Sunday evening when I was able to eat solids. And by solids, I mean some mashed potatoes. Ugh, at some point, there was stuff (and by stuff, I mean the other word that starts with a letter “s”) coming out of every hole and crevice of my body. At some point, I thought I was going to pass out, and thus fall off the toilet and bash my head onto the tiled floor which would lead to my “stuff” covered death due to profuse and unstoppable bleeding from a gash in my head.
Sunday evening, feeling hot and irritated, I decided to go see a movie in hopes that a cool movie theater would make me feel a little better. I guess I must have forgotten that I am not in the States any more because the movie theater was stuffy and hot. And my stomach kept rumbling and making funny noises throughout the movie. Not to mention that I was sweating profusely.
We saw The Interpreter (arg, they still don’t have Willy Wonka here) which made no sense to me. This could have been due to the fact that the movie was dubbed in Russian and since they spoke really fast and Russian is now littered with English words pronounced in Russian, at times, I did not understand a word that was said on the screen. Then again, my belly was rumbling throughout the movie and I kept looking around for a quick exit in case I had to bolt for the toilet. And I was sweating profusely. But overall, the plot of the movie was cheesy. Allowing a man who led genocide in his country live because there was an explanation of an African tradition in the middle of the movie was a classic. Was there also a statement of the West’s (aka white people) support of leaders of some of the African countries who then turn “bad”? And how charming was it that Nicole Kidman can speak Ku (? – hey, the movie was in Russian) and she single-handedly managed to show the world the faults of a criminal? And technically speaking, shouldn’t she be imprisoned for threatening a life of a leader of a nation? I mean, haven’t you seen pictures of that Georgian (of course, in Georgia, they pointed out the fact that he is ethnically Armenian or Azeri, I can’t remember which one) who threw a bomb at Bush during his visit to Tbilisi; I am sure Bush’s people are all over him.
Anyways, I am sure The Interpreter is a great movie, if you wanted to see it, go see it. Remember, when I watched it, I was delirious from throwing up for a day and then not eating for another. Plus, they spoke in Russian really fast and I was too busy checking out the exit doors. Then again, during a scene when MTA bus blew up, I started laughing uncontrollably.
Anyways, I woke up on Saturday, feeling a little queasy. The queasiness did not go away until Sunday evening when I was able to eat solids. And by solids, I mean some mashed potatoes. Ugh, at some point, there was stuff (and by stuff, I mean the other word that starts with a letter “s”) coming out of every hole and crevice of my body. At some point, I thought I was going to pass out, and thus fall off the toilet and bash my head onto the tiled floor which would lead to my “stuff” covered death due to profuse and unstoppable bleeding from a gash in my head.
Sunday evening, feeling hot and irritated, I decided to go see a movie in hopes that a cool movie theater would make me feel a little better. I guess I must have forgotten that I am not in the States any more because the movie theater was stuffy and hot. And my stomach kept rumbling and making funny noises throughout the movie. Not to mention that I was sweating profusely.
We saw The Interpreter (arg, they still don’t have Willy Wonka here) which made no sense to me. This could have been due to the fact that the movie was dubbed in Russian and since they spoke really fast and Russian is now littered with English words pronounced in Russian, at times, I did not understand a word that was said on the screen. Then again, my belly was rumbling throughout the movie and I kept looking around for a quick exit in case I had to bolt for the toilet. And I was sweating profusely. But overall, the plot of the movie was cheesy. Allowing a man who led genocide in his country live because there was an explanation of an African tradition in the middle of the movie was a classic. Was there also a statement of the West’s (aka white people) support of leaders of some of the African countries who then turn “bad”? And how charming was it that Nicole Kidman can speak Ku (? – hey, the movie was in Russian) and she single-handedly managed to show the world the faults of a criminal? And technically speaking, shouldn’t she be imprisoned for threatening a life of a leader of a nation? I mean, haven’t you seen pictures of that Georgian (of course, in Georgia, they pointed out the fact that he is ethnically Armenian or Azeri, I can’t remember which one) who threw a bomb at Bush during his visit to Tbilisi; I am sure Bush’s people are all over him.
Anyways, I am sure The Interpreter is a great movie, if you wanted to see it, go see it. Remember, when I watched it, I was delirious from throwing up for a day and then not eating for another. Plus, they spoke in Russian really fast and I was too busy checking out the exit doors. Then again, during a scene when MTA bus blew up, I started laughing uncontrollably.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Well, today I managed to do one of the stupidest things ever
I decided to walk home from Rustaveli (which some say is a stupid thing) as I had time to kill and it’s one of the few ways I get any physical activity around here. For those who are currently outside of Tbilisi, Chavchavadze Avenue is being repaved. They’ve been repaving it for over two weeks or something along those lines. Slightly irritating. For those who have never been on Chavchavadze, it is one of the main streets in Tbilisi and it’s also one of the oldest. There are fairly posh shops and it has amazing architecture which reminds me a little of European towns.
So somehow I forgot that Chavchavadze is being repaved and I decided to take my usual route home. As I approached Chavchavadze, there were no cars on it so instead of taking an underpath, I did the amazing thing of crossing right over the part that was covered in tar. Needless to say, my shoes stuck to the tar, then one fell off which resulted in me stepping barefoot right on the tar thus getting tar all over my foot and then, after I fished out the sandal, I got tar all over it as well. Some Georgian dude stared at me in disbelief and then proceeded to tell me something in Georgian while pointing to the tar and then the underpath. Being cool, I attempted to scrape the tar off my sandals and shrugged my shoulders. And then continued my walk home which took about another 20 minutes. Of course, every little piece of grass, dirt, little rocks, and other things that you may find on the street stuck to my sandals. It was a nightmare. But I kept on walking, holding my head up high.
Thank god for nail polish remover which took off the layers of tar off my foot. I used up most of my cotton balls and most of the polish remover (not to confuse with Polish remover – hi Nick!). Below, you can find a pic of my sandals. I am saddened by our sudden departure as they are headed straight for the trash. I liked them very much. So I guess it’s time to go sandal shopping…
So somehow I forgot that Chavchavadze is being repaved and I decided to take my usual route home. As I approached Chavchavadze, there were no cars on it so instead of taking an underpath, I did the amazing thing of crossing right over the part that was covered in tar. Needless to say, my shoes stuck to the tar, then one fell off which resulted in me stepping barefoot right on the tar thus getting tar all over my foot and then, after I fished out the sandal, I got tar all over it as well. Some Georgian dude stared at me in disbelief and then proceeded to tell me something in Georgian while pointing to the tar and then the underpath. Being cool, I attempted to scrape the tar off my sandals and shrugged my shoulders. And then continued my walk home which took about another 20 minutes. Of course, every little piece of grass, dirt, little rocks, and other things that you may find on the street stuck to my sandals. It was a nightmare. But I kept on walking, holding my head up high.
Thank god for nail polish remover which took off the layers of tar off my foot. I used up most of my cotton balls and most of the polish remover (not to confuse with Polish remover – hi Nick!). Below, you can find a pic of my sandals. I am saddened by our sudden departure as they are headed straight for the trash. I liked them very much. So I guess it’s time to go sandal shopping…
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Hello, I came to see if I can change my departure date.
Arg, if I have to say this phrase one more time, I am going to explode. I spent most of yesterday running around town in 30+ degree (that’s Celsius), begging people to find seats for a later departure. Although I should commend Airzena people, they are really nice and explained to me the ins and outs of the airline industry. Now I know what the little letters and numbers mean on tickets. The KLM people were assholes, the ticket agent told me that there are no seats available for the Georgian market although there are plenty seats available on the plane that departs on the date I would like to leave. Hmm, I don’t know about you, but doesn’t that sound a little fishy? So, at this point, I would like to recommend to anyone who has the option not to fly KLM.
Actually, someone told me last night that there are agreements between governments about allotted airline seats. Sounds very plausible to me, especially since it came from a Columbia and Harvard graduate…
On a more positive side, I took the Metro for the first time. It was cute. And by saying “cute” I mean, really, it was cute. There are only two lines and it’s about 4 cars long. It also reminded me of Moscow’s Metro – escalators take you deep underground and stations are similar to those in Moscow except that they are not as lavish. And it smelled similar to Moscow’s Metro – stale, slightly mothball-like cool air. For those who have taken the Paris Metro, here it smells completely different, none of that body odor, trash, and garlic smell (and I like Paris so this is not an attempt to trash the French). A Georgian, who now lives in Switzerland, told me that one doesn’t get to know Tbilisi until he takes the Metro. Incidentally, I know several Georgians who have never taken the Metro here in Tbilisi.
Despite its small size, I wasn’t sure which direction to go and where I had to buy a little token so I approached a little babushka by the turnstiles who turned out to be really excited to talk to me and showed me the token booth and then proceeded to tell me which line to take and how many stops until Rustaveli stop. To explain herself clearly, she gesticulated and used her body to give me directions. Needless to say, she got really into it and spent about two minutes, waving her hands in the air and positioning her body to indicate the direction that I should take. All this to explain that I should go downstairs, get into the car that will pull up on the right side and then get out 2 stops later. But she was sweet and got a little disappointed when I told her that I am from Latvia. I guess she thought she was giving direction for a real foreigner, not just another fellow post-Communist compatriot.
So I’ve been telling people, mainly taxi drivers, that I am from Latvia. It’s an attempt to prevent them from ripping me off since if I don’t negotiate prices before I get into a taxi. My strategy doesn’t really work so usually I just give them the amount I think is fair and walk away quickly if they start yelling that I underpaid them. But most of the time, when I tell people that I am from the Baltics, they start remembering times when they visited Jurmala (resort-like town on the Baltic coast) or when they sang in a chorus in Riga. Ok, only one person remembered singing in a chorus. One taxi driver told me that people in Latvia really know how to party. I had no reason to disagree. Another one wondered out loud who had let such a beautiful young woman to Georgia all by herself. Remembering my mother’s nagging warning against hot-blooded Georgian men, I chuckled and asked him how he knew I was all by myself.
But anyways, back to the tickets. It looks like I will not be able to extend them. Unless there is a last minute cancellation and I probably will not know until literally last minute. So please, keep your fingers cross, pray to your Gods, do whatever else your traditions dictate for you to do in order for me to stay here just two more weeks. I am in no rush to return, I hear New York City is incredibly hot.
Actually, someone told me last night that there are agreements between governments about allotted airline seats. Sounds very plausible to me, especially since it came from a Columbia and Harvard graduate…
On a more positive side, I took the Metro for the first time. It was cute. And by saying “cute” I mean, really, it was cute. There are only two lines and it’s about 4 cars long. It also reminded me of Moscow’s Metro – escalators take you deep underground and stations are similar to those in Moscow except that they are not as lavish. And it smelled similar to Moscow’s Metro – stale, slightly mothball-like cool air. For those who have taken the Paris Metro, here it smells completely different, none of that body odor, trash, and garlic smell (and I like Paris so this is not an attempt to trash the French). A Georgian, who now lives in Switzerland, told me that one doesn’t get to know Tbilisi until he takes the Metro. Incidentally, I know several Georgians who have never taken the Metro here in Tbilisi.
Despite its small size, I wasn’t sure which direction to go and where I had to buy a little token so I approached a little babushka by the turnstiles who turned out to be really excited to talk to me and showed me the token booth and then proceeded to tell me which line to take and how many stops until Rustaveli stop. To explain herself clearly, she gesticulated and used her body to give me directions. Needless to say, she got really into it and spent about two minutes, waving her hands in the air and positioning her body to indicate the direction that I should take. All this to explain that I should go downstairs, get into the car that will pull up on the right side and then get out 2 stops later. But she was sweet and got a little disappointed when I told her that I am from Latvia. I guess she thought she was giving direction for a real foreigner, not just another fellow post-Communist compatriot.
So I’ve been telling people, mainly taxi drivers, that I am from Latvia. It’s an attempt to prevent them from ripping me off since if I don’t negotiate prices before I get into a taxi. My strategy doesn’t really work so usually I just give them the amount I think is fair and walk away quickly if they start yelling that I underpaid them. But most of the time, when I tell people that I am from the Baltics, they start remembering times when they visited Jurmala (resort-like town on the Baltic coast) or when they sang in a chorus in Riga. Ok, only one person remembered singing in a chorus. One taxi driver told me that people in Latvia really know how to party. I had no reason to disagree. Another one wondered out loud who had let such a beautiful young woman to Georgia all by herself. Remembering my mother’s nagging warning against hot-blooded Georgian men, I chuckled and asked him how he knew I was all by myself.
But anyways, back to the tickets. It looks like I will not be able to extend them. Unless there is a last minute cancellation and I probably will not know until literally last minute. So please, keep your fingers cross, pray to your Gods, do whatever else your traditions dictate for you to do in order for me to stay here just two more weeks. I am in no rush to return, I hear New York City is incredibly hot.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Too much fish and frisbee
The last time I saw Inga she was fading away after a Sunday afternoon of fish, beer and sun. I've been trying to catch up with her ever since. I feel that it is my duty to the Betty McBoob community to let everyone know that she is not only back on her feet but in fact spent the day chasing law enforcement officials for certain facts regarding the hard truth (something not easy to come by here in the Caucasus). This sort of dogged journalism is exactly what we need here in Georgia (and if you can go out for Chinese afterwards it helps) and lets not forget the frisbee game in between topped off by a screening of Casablanca ... "Here's looking at you hill of beans."
Monday, July 18, 2005
Can someone explain this to me?
I've been trying to extend my stay here until mid-August and every travel agent that I've turned to has told me that there are no seats available at all for August. Well, when I checked KLM and Northwestern (KLM's partner) websites, both have economy class tickets available for the 17th. So why can't they change my ticket? I am so peeved, I just sent a nice but somewhat direct email to my travel agent, asking her what the hell is going on! Ok, well, I didn't write "hell" but pretty much everything else. Stupid airlines, they all suck!
Perfection in a nutshell
This weekend was fairly uneventful yet looking back at it, I wish I had my camera to document it. I need to get me one of those camera phones, dammit!
Friday we went to a birthday party for a friend’s son. The son asked for a water gun and it turns out that it’s somewhat hard to find a water gun in toy stores in Tbilisi. Until you look for it at the Bazaar or the Bazroba as it is called by the locals. Friday afternoon I met a friend, who was working on an article for a local magazine, for coffee. After coffee, he decided to skip work and took me to the Bazaar which is located on the other bank, across the river, near a train station. That place is ridiculous. You can find anything in the world there – from bras to instant ice-cream (yea, I don’t know what that tastes like) to loofahs to tea pots. There is no real organization to the Bazaar, you just kind of wonder around until you find what you need. Oh, I almost forgot, I spent about two weeks looking for gift wrapping paper in the downtown area and look and behold, there was tons of it at the Bazaar. Actually, let me take that back, there is some organization to the Bazaar, there is a food section and then there is anything-goes section. The food section is where I wish I had my camera, we chatted with a lady who was selling cow snout, brain, and tongue. All these delicious sounding cow parts were laid out on a butcher-type table in little pools of blood and whatever other cow part fluids with flies buzzing around. It was slightly gross and most definitely not appetizing. The lady was telling me different ways to cook the brain, including a basic sauté, cutlet style. I will be glad to part with this information with anyone who requests it, especially Jeff P.
Then there were mounds of flour. Huge mounts. With old ladies perching on high stools, waving us over to buy some flour. I bought wild strawberries instead.
I had a tough time with the water gun since my friend requested that I bought a “quality product.” What is “quality” in Georgia? I am not sure. But since the friend was working, it was up to me and my other friend to pick one. So we examined our choices and after lengthy discussions of what a seven year old kid would like, I decided to pick one of the largest ones, the kind that apparently squirts water up to 35 feet. Or maybe meters? I can’t remember. Anyways, it turned out that the water gun was almost the size of the kid and upon receiving it, he immediately filled it with water and proceeded to happily squirt his gigantic, hairy, bear-like dog. Which lead to his mother getting upset and hastily removing the gun.
The birthday party took place about 30 minutes outside of Tbilisi, in a little summer house located in the mountains. It was a really beautiful place where it is generally much cooler than in Tbilisi. And it’s been hot here, so hot that I try not to leave the house as much as possible. The hosts brought khinkali and khachapuri and cooked shashlik. I ate tons, it was delicious. Mmm, shashlik. By the way, for those who don’t know what is shashlik, it’s basically marinated meat, cooked on open fire. It’s your basic Georgian barbeque.
As I am typing this, there is a news report about Japanese tourists who come to Russia to garden. Apparently, land is expensive in Japan and many of these Japanese tourists used garden when they were young so this brings back pleasant memories. The report was wrapped up with an interview from the owner of the land who said that he was happy that the Japanese dug out his potatoes so he fed them with dark bread, salty fish, and vodka.
What else, Saturday was a lazy day, I ate some Adjaran khachapuri (this is the kind looks like a boat and it’s filled with cheese, runny egg and lots of butter – it was that kind of day). We also went to see the film “Tbilisi, Tbilisi” which was written and shot here. Looking back at the film, I am not sure how I feel about it, it tugged at the strings of the movie goers’ hearts as it took place in Tbilisi right after the war in Abkhazia. It showed the poverty and the humanity that was, and in some parts, still is present in Georgia so in some ways, it wasn’t imaginative or drastically different from other movies that portray a similar situation. Yet it had some witty dialogue which I felt showed well Georgian sarcastic and dry humor.
Sunday I met up with a couple of Americans and after having drinks at an outdoor bar owned by a German, we wondered across the bridge to the Kazbegi brewery. Kazbegi is a region not too far away from Tbilisi and it is also the name of a local brewery which makes pretty decent and cheap beer. Once you arrive to the brewery, you can buy a container from one of the old ladies to have it filled with fresh, cold beer. We also bought some fish. Then crossed the street and sat by the river bank, drinking and munching. Eventually we joined a group of old Georgian geezers who told us dirty jokes and promised young Georgian women for my male friends. Before we joined the geezers, I swear, some Georgian guy was trying to sell me his kid. The kid was really cute, about 5 or so, with huge eyes, but having a variety of things going on in my life, I decided not take him. Besides, the cost was a little high as well, I don’t have 10K laying around. I am sure I could have bargained but I didn’t want to be tempted. Needless to say, I got really trashed, we stumbled back, caught a marshrutka to Saburtalo, our hood, and ate a pizza at our local pizza joint that’s run by some Georgian dude who employs really cute English speaking waiters. Ah, drunken flirtation. Then I got home and passed out. Now, that’s a perfect, not so eventful weekend!
Friday we went to a birthday party for a friend’s son. The son asked for a water gun and it turns out that it’s somewhat hard to find a water gun in toy stores in Tbilisi. Until you look for it at the Bazaar or the Bazroba as it is called by the locals. Friday afternoon I met a friend, who was working on an article for a local magazine, for coffee. After coffee, he decided to skip work and took me to the Bazaar which is located on the other bank, across the river, near a train station. That place is ridiculous. You can find anything in the world there – from bras to instant ice-cream (yea, I don’t know what that tastes like) to loofahs to tea pots. There is no real organization to the Bazaar, you just kind of wonder around until you find what you need. Oh, I almost forgot, I spent about two weeks looking for gift wrapping paper in the downtown area and look and behold, there was tons of it at the Bazaar. Actually, let me take that back, there is some organization to the Bazaar, there is a food section and then there is anything-goes section. The food section is where I wish I had my camera, we chatted with a lady who was selling cow snout, brain, and tongue. All these delicious sounding cow parts were laid out on a butcher-type table in little pools of blood and whatever other cow part fluids with flies buzzing around. It was slightly gross and most definitely not appetizing. The lady was telling me different ways to cook the brain, including a basic sauté, cutlet style. I will be glad to part with this information with anyone who requests it, especially Jeff P.
Then there were mounds of flour. Huge mounts. With old ladies perching on high stools, waving us over to buy some flour. I bought wild strawberries instead.
I had a tough time with the water gun since my friend requested that I bought a “quality product.” What is “quality” in Georgia? I am not sure. But since the friend was working, it was up to me and my other friend to pick one. So we examined our choices and after lengthy discussions of what a seven year old kid would like, I decided to pick one of the largest ones, the kind that apparently squirts water up to 35 feet. Or maybe meters? I can’t remember. Anyways, it turned out that the water gun was almost the size of the kid and upon receiving it, he immediately filled it with water and proceeded to happily squirt his gigantic, hairy, bear-like dog. Which lead to his mother getting upset and hastily removing the gun.
The birthday party took place about 30 minutes outside of Tbilisi, in a little summer house located in the mountains. It was a really beautiful place where it is generally much cooler than in Tbilisi. And it’s been hot here, so hot that I try not to leave the house as much as possible. The hosts brought khinkali and khachapuri and cooked shashlik. I ate tons, it was delicious. Mmm, shashlik. By the way, for those who don’t know what is shashlik, it’s basically marinated meat, cooked on open fire. It’s your basic Georgian barbeque.
As I am typing this, there is a news report about Japanese tourists who come to Russia to garden. Apparently, land is expensive in Japan and many of these Japanese tourists used garden when they were young so this brings back pleasant memories. The report was wrapped up with an interview from the owner of the land who said that he was happy that the Japanese dug out his potatoes so he fed them with dark bread, salty fish, and vodka.
What else, Saturday was a lazy day, I ate some Adjaran khachapuri (this is the kind looks like a boat and it’s filled with cheese, runny egg and lots of butter – it was that kind of day). We also went to see the film “Tbilisi, Tbilisi” which was written and shot here. Looking back at the film, I am not sure how I feel about it, it tugged at the strings of the movie goers’ hearts as it took place in Tbilisi right after the war in Abkhazia. It showed the poverty and the humanity that was, and in some parts, still is present in Georgia so in some ways, it wasn’t imaginative or drastically different from other movies that portray a similar situation. Yet it had some witty dialogue which I felt showed well Georgian sarcastic and dry humor.
Sunday I met up with a couple of Americans and after having drinks at an outdoor bar owned by a German, we wondered across the bridge to the Kazbegi brewery. Kazbegi is a region not too far away from Tbilisi and it is also the name of a local brewery which makes pretty decent and cheap beer. Once you arrive to the brewery, you can buy a container from one of the old ladies to have it filled with fresh, cold beer. We also bought some fish. Then crossed the street and sat by the river bank, drinking and munching. Eventually we joined a group of old Georgian geezers who told us dirty jokes and promised young Georgian women for my male friends. Before we joined the geezers, I swear, some Georgian guy was trying to sell me his kid. The kid was really cute, about 5 or so, with huge eyes, but having a variety of things going on in my life, I decided not take him. Besides, the cost was a little high as well, I don’t have 10K laying around. I am sure I could have bargained but I didn’t want to be tempted. Needless to say, I got really trashed, we stumbled back, caught a marshrutka to Saburtalo, our hood, and ate a pizza at our local pizza joint that’s run by some Georgian dude who employs really cute English speaking waiters. Ah, drunken flirtation. Then I got home and passed out. Now, that’s a perfect, not so eventful weekend!
So in case you are wondering what this khinkali talk is all about, I took a bunch of khinkali eating pics for you. Khinkali is a popular dish here in Georgia, they are basically meat filled dumplings. There is a skill to eating khinkalis, it is important not to leave any dumpling juices on the plate. So when you bite into them, you gotta to suck the juice out. Yea, it sounds a little dirty. And yea, it's a little loud. But it's fun to eat and they are tasty. So here are some pics of non-Georgians eating khinkalis.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
So the fields (or the Hippodrome as it is called around here) are used for soccer games and horse riding. I think the delapitated stand was used to watch horse riding competitions. It's actually crazy, as we play frisbee, a bunch of horses wonder around, I think they let them roam while no one is using them.
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