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.