Party just for me

Sunday my assistant invited Barry, one of the American interns, and me to a party. A party thrown in my honor. I was glad Barry came since I didn’t want to go by myself and hang out with people I didn’t know. Well, I know my assistant but it’s a little weird, I felt I may be overstepping that employer-employee line by going by myself.

Anyways, so my assistant and his friend met us at Prospero’s, the local overpriced coffee shop that caters to foreigners, and we took a marshrutka to what felt like the other side of Georgia. Tbilisi is set up so that the central part is mainly populated by wealthier members of the society and the suburbs are where the not so wealthy people live. And when I say suburbs, I don’t mean picket fences with luscious green lawns, I mean blocks and blocks of pre-fabricated post-Soviet buildings. Interestingly, each apartment in each of such buildings is drastically different. The inhabitants have a free-for-all with constructing whatever they want so sometimes you will see balconies jutting out past any other balconies, sometimes the interiors are actually two apartments put together. For example, last night, I went to an apartment that looks like an expensive New York City apartment. It had nice hardwood floors, IKEA type furniture, tons of light. I live in an apartment that still has the drab Soviet-style wallpaper and tacky lights.

When we arrived to the apartment, the assistant’s friend laid out several books about bands such as Deep Purple, Grant Funk Railroad, and the Beatles. I felt a little like I was in high school with posters of White Snake (hmm, is that actually the name of the band or did I just make that up?) tacked onto the wall and band cutouts from magazines attached to cardboard. Turns out that the friend is a huge fan of classic rock and has a band that plays classic rock. Except that they need a drummer so if you’re looking to play, there is a spot in Georgia. He played some stuff from his band which was fairly comical.

The friend’s mom made khinkali. Khinkali are the local version of the pelemeni – another meat filled dumpling, readily available in Russia. Khinkalis are a little bigger and you don’t eat them with sour cream. And you can only drink beer with them. So after sitting around for three hours, I was trashed from beer and stuffed from eating khinkalis. The rest of the party was spent watching Grand Funk Railroad video.

The other thing about such parties or meals in a Georgian house is that it is generally really hard to leave. The hosts insist that you have another khinkali or more to dink which ends up taking another hour for you to muster enough strength to say that you need to leave. Fortunately, Barry had a Russian lesson so he was persistent and since he lives near-by, it was a perfect excuse for me to leave. So that was my party, thrown just for me. Completely exhausting, full of food, beer, and classic rock.