There is where I want to live!
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
An update
I haven’t posted much lately because I managed to forget my camera every time anything of interest was occurring. Sunday my friends took me to see a Georgian Orthodox church from the 5th Century, if not older, a few miles outside of Tbilisi. Albeit small and dark, it was magnificent, nested on top of hills (or maybe mountains?), overlooking a valley dotted with small tiny Georgian country houses. While standing on top of the mountain, it was extremely windy and I thought I would be blown away, past the cliffs, tumbling down into the brown river below. And there were rain clouds just touching the surrounding mountains, making the whole scenery even more impressive. The church, which was shaped like a cross, didn’t have much inside of it besides a small altar. There were some icons on the walls with tall candles in front of them. But otherwise, it’s was dark and scary since the wind kept howling. Also, the Orthodox priests or some sort of religious figures, were peering at the visitors as they poured over a book, making the setting perfect for a creepy movie set. And apparently, the church needs a lot of restoration work so pay for filming location may come in very handy for them!
Since it was freezing cold and about to pour, we returned back to Tbilisi for a nice dinner which was finished with a nice hot tea with red wine in it. It tasted a little strange, not exactly like mulled red wine and not exactly like tea. But it made me feel all fuzzy and warm inside. I am easy to please. Oh yea, I also got all the dirt on dating in Georgia. Apparently, Georgian men having fun with Russian women but marry Georgian. I guess there isn’t much dirt. But seems like perfect set up for Georgian men to me.
I can’t remember much of what happened yesterday – oh, yea, I met my friend’s friend who has been living here for about two years. We had beers and eavesdropped on the conversation between two German soldiers. I kept wanting to ask them how to say Georgia in German but never got around to it. There was also some expat teaching another newly arrived foreigner Georgian culture, language, and way of life. The conversation sounded completely ridiculous although I can’t remember what was said. I had a lot of beer.
And I think I have managed to find myself a lackey. I am almost settled for a dashing young Georgian lad who seemed to be terrified of me during our “informal” interview. But he works with IDUs and does outreach work in the streets. And he has a law background and has been working on decriminalization of drug use. He seemed to be in tune with things. Some of the other candidates were just ridiculous. One woman thought that the discrimination that sex workers face is being hired to have sex with one man but then being forced to have sex with several men. Not exactly what I hope to work on.
Anyways, I am going to Batumi by train on Thursday morning with my Georgian friend Nino. She has to do some sort of needs assessment for her NGO and I am going to meet with the Batumi branch of the organization that is helping me here. Batumi is, apparently, a nice resort town, a few miles from Turkey and it serves as a transit point for a lot of sex workers who go work abroad. It should be an interesting experience. And hopefully, I’ll be able to take a dip into the Black Sea. Or at least find out why it is called the Black Sea. We are coming back on Saturday so I will have pictures and maybe a posting. So keep your pants on.
Since it was freezing cold and about to pour, we returned back to Tbilisi for a nice dinner which was finished with a nice hot tea with red wine in it. It tasted a little strange, not exactly like mulled red wine and not exactly like tea. But it made me feel all fuzzy and warm inside. I am easy to please. Oh yea, I also got all the dirt on dating in Georgia. Apparently, Georgian men having fun with Russian women but marry Georgian. I guess there isn’t much dirt. But seems like perfect set up for Georgian men to me.
I can’t remember much of what happened yesterday – oh, yea, I met my friend’s friend who has been living here for about two years. We had beers and eavesdropped on the conversation between two German soldiers. I kept wanting to ask them how to say Georgia in German but never got around to it. There was also some expat teaching another newly arrived foreigner Georgian culture, language, and way of life. The conversation sounded completely ridiculous although I can’t remember what was said. I had a lot of beer.
And I think I have managed to find myself a lackey. I am almost settled for a dashing young Georgian lad who seemed to be terrified of me during our “informal” interview. But he works with IDUs and does outreach work in the streets. And he has a law background and has been working on decriminalization of drug use. He seemed to be in tune with things. Some of the other candidates were just ridiculous. One woman thought that the discrimination that sex workers face is being hired to have sex with one man but then being forced to have sex with several men. Not exactly what I hope to work on.
Anyways, I am going to Batumi by train on Thursday morning with my Georgian friend Nino. She has to do some sort of needs assessment for her NGO and I am going to meet with the Batumi branch of the organization that is helping me here. Batumi is, apparently, a nice resort town, a few miles from Turkey and it serves as a transit point for a lot of sex workers who go work abroad. It should be an interesting experience. And hopefully, I’ll be able to take a dip into the Black Sea. Or at least find out why it is called the Black Sea. We are coming back on Saturday so I will have pictures and maybe a posting. So keep your pants on.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Baths, Part II
Since not much was going yesterday, I decided to try out the sulfur baths and see what the stink was all about. Ok, so I finally figured out how to spell sulfur for those who pointed such nonsense out to me.
I went to the baths that someone had shown to me earlier in the week. These baths are mainly for tourists and locals, generally men, who are more interested in a happy ending than bathing. In fact, if you stand around long enough, surely a local man will go in with some overdressed woman. Therefore, in addition to taking a bath, I was officially doing research.
The downside of these baths is that they are all private, meaning you get your own little room with a little tub or a square tiled pool filled with stinky piping hot water, a massage table, and in some more expensive rooms, a small sauna. It’s great if you have company with you, but if you’re alone, it’s hard to say how long you’ve been there and whether it’s time to go or not. I asked for the rub down which is essentially someone scrubbing me with a wickedly itchy and harsh wool mitten to shed off layers of old skin. I am sure you’re thinking that a mitten can’t be that bad but the lady scrubbed so hard that blackened chunks (oh thank you New York for all the pollution) of skin were shedding from me left and right. It was actually kind of gross. And for some reason, she scrubbed my butt like there was no tomorrow, I wasn’t sure if she had some sort of S&M undertones to her scrubbing technique or if my butt was really dirty. Then she soaped me up and I rested a little bit more in the sulfur bath.
The whole thing was a little disappointing because in Turkey, the scrubbing and soaping is part of a ceremony and the women scrubbing and soaping really go nuts. Here it was monotonous work done by a woman in her underwear who seems to scrub down tourists every day. There was no ceremony, no umph, nothing really. But I left squeaky clean and pink like a piglet.
There are a couple of pics that I took for you all.
I went to the baths that someone had shown to me earlier in the week. These baths are mainly for tourists and locals, generally men, who are more interested in a happy ending than bathing. In fact, if you stand around long enough, surely a local man will go in with some overdressed woman. Therefore, in addition to taking a bath, I was officially doing research.
The downside of these baths is that they are all private, meaning you get your own little room with a little tub or a square tiled pool filled with stinky piping hot water, a massage table, and in some more expensive rooms, a small sauna. It’s great if you have company with you, but if you’re alone, it’s hard to say how long you’ve been there and whether it’s time to go or not. I asked for the rub down which is essentially someone scrubbing me with a wickedly itchy and harsh wool mitten to shed off layers of old skin. I am sure you’re thinking that a mitten can’t be that bad but the lady scrubbed so hard that blackened chunks (oh thank you New York for all the pollution) of skin were shedding from me left and right. It was actually kind of gross. And for some reason, she scrubbed my butt like there was no tomorrow, I wasn’t sure if she had some sort of S&M undertones to her scrubbing technique or if my butt was really dirty. Then she soaped me up and I rested a little bit more in the sulfur bath.
The whole thing was a little disappointing because in Turkey, the scrubbing and soaping is part of a ceremony and the women scrubbing and soaping really go nuts. Here it was monotonous work done by a woman in her underwear who seems to scrub down tourists every day. There was no ceremony, no umph, nothing really. But I left squeaky clean and pink like a piglet.
There are a couple of pics that I took for you all.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Pick pocketers
What annoys the crap out of me here is everyone constantly reminding me to be wary of pick-pocketers and how awfully dangerous it is to walk around after dark. Incidentally, it’s men who constantly remind me to be careful rather than women. Well, women do it as well and their concern is more about walking around on my own at night.
It annoys the crap out of me because it’s virtually impossible for me to walk around on my own at night. Considering my confusion walking around in daylight, clearly, walking around at night is not really an option for me. It’s so dark and streets are so poorly lit that I cannot see anything. So why the hell would I walk around on my own when I can get a taxi for $2?
The pick-pocketing warning is just as annoying because I tend to carry stuff in my pockets, like my cellphone (or mobile phone in this country) and whatever small amount of cash I have on me at the time. Several times, men (not women) have suggested that I carry everything in a bag. Apparently, my small bag with a clasp is not enough and I really should get one with a zipper. Now, although men here tend to have homoerotic tendencies – kissing on the cheek, hugging, walking arm in arm or arm around shoulders – I have yet to see a man carry around a purse. Therefore I fail to understand their presumptions that a bag with a clasp is less safe than a bag with a zipper. (Of course, I am operating on a presumption that a gay man would be able to provide insightful information on different types of bags and the level of accessibility to their contents.) Not to mention the fact that if someone really wanted to rob me, it would be just easier to snatch my bag with everything in it and keep on walking really fast. Which is basically what happened when I got mugged back in Brooklyn. Fishing anything out of my bag with a clasp is virtually impossible since the lining in shredded and when I try to retrieve items from it, everything is tangled and, with great embarrassment, I have to untangle each item from the raggedy lining.
Clearly pick-pocketers exist and I don’t want to say that I gaily skip down the street with my pockets bulging with stuff. But I am not so retarded that I stand out like an American tourist in a t-shirt, khaki shorts and white sneakers outfitted with a camera dangling from the neck and a secret (or really not so secret) money and passport holder worn under the t-shirt.
I mean, c’mon, I am from New York!
Note: the previous sentence is meant to carry a great deal of sarcasm, followed by an eyeroll. Being lazy at the moment, I don’t feel conveying it to anyone who may not know me well enough to be aware of the depths of its meaning. I hope this explanation will clarify such matters.
Lastly, I just became nostalgic for the days when an American tourist, such as the one mentioned above, would be described carrying a Polaroid camera. Now it’s more likely to be digital camera. I feel so old.
It annoys the crap out of me because it’s virtually impossible for me to walk around on my own at night. Considering my confusion walking around in daylight, clearly, walking around at night is not really an option for me. It’s so dark and streets are so poorly lit that I cannot see anything. So why the hell would I walk around on my own when I can get a taxi for $2?
The pick-pocketing warning is just as annoying because I tend to carry stuff in my pockets, like my cellphone (or mobile phone in this country) and whatever small amount of cash I have on me at the time. Several times, men (not women) have suggested that I carry everything in a bag. Apparently, my small bag with a clasp is not enough and I really should get one with a zipper. Now, although men here tend to have homoerotic tendencies – kissing on the cheek, hugging, walking arm in arm or arm around shoulders – I have yet to see a man carry around a purse. Therefore I fail to understand their presumptions that a bag with a clasp is less safe than a bag with a zipper. (Of course, I am operating on a presumption that a gay man would be able to provide insightful information on different types of bags and the level of accessibility to their contents.) Not to mention the fact that if someone really wanted to rob me, it would be just easier to snatch my bag with everything in it and keep on walking really fast. Which is basically what happened when I got mugged back in Brooklyn. Fishing anything out of my bag with a clasp is virtually impossible since the lining in shredded and when I try to retrieve items from it, everything is tangled and, with great embarrassment, I have to untangle each item from the raggedy lining.
Clearly pick-pocketers exist and I don’t want to say that I gaily skip down the street with my pockets bulging with stuff. But I am not so retarded that I stand out like an American tourist in a t-shirt, khaki shorts and white sneakers outfitted with a camera dangling from the neck and a secret (or really not so secret) money and passport holder worn under the t-shirt.
I mean, c’mon, I am from New York!
Note: the previous sentence is meant to carry a great deal of sarcasm, followed by an eyeroll. Being lazy at the moment, I don’t feel conveying it to anyone who may not know me well enough to be aware of the depths of its meaning. I hope this explanation will clarify such matters.
Lastly, I just became nostalgic for the days when an American tourist, such as the one mentioned above, would be described carrying a Polaroid camera. Now it’s more likely to be digital camera. I feel so old.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Thank God for blue eyeballs
Georgia is a fairly traditional and sexist society. Young women are meant to be looked at, married women are meant to be child bearers and housekeepers. I am not sure what old women do around here. I think sell cucumbers and tomatoes on the streetside. Anyways, having blue eyes and being young, or at least young looking, I managed a two hour meeting on anti-trafficking initiatives in Georgia. Apparently, there really are none. Or very little. But it took two hours for a dude to explain all this to me. An additional smile got me an invitation to an anti-trafficking training for police officers.
Oh thank you, blue eyeballs! (Ok, maybe my brain has something to with this as well, but I think the blue eyeballs have come in very handy.)
Oh thank you, blue eyeballs! (Ok, maybe my brain has something to with this as well, but I think the blue eyeballs have come in very handy.)
Baths!
It’s been raining here a lot, apparently so much that some of the water supply was polluted due to all the rain. Fortunately for me, besides occasional power outage, the water is flowing clean in my apartment.
Sunday I met with a couple of expats at a small café that clearly caters to tourists. It has a very Western feel to it – coffee brewing, books everywhere, little tables – your typical “Friends” café sans annoying Joey or anal character who is married to David Arquette. I guess it’s also one of the main hang out spots for expats since a couple started to tournament of Scrabble. Being a non-Scrabbled, I took an opportunity to wonder around a city with an expat who has lived here for about three years. He showed me the local outdoor market but since it was drizzling, not many people were selling their stuff. We also wondered around the old town which is really cool. Next time I am there, I’ll take pictures. The old town used to be the primary quarters for merchants who were passing through town and some of the buildings that have been recently renovated but still maintain the appearance of a merchant hotel. According to the expat, the ground floor housed camels while the third floor of such hotel was designated as resting quarters. Second floor was used to business and entertainment. I am not sure how much of this is true but judging by the structure of the buildings, it seemed plausible. He also seemed to be one of those “know-it-alls” – the type that would not stop blabbering, showing off the ever expansive knowledge about Georgia and pretty much everything else in the world. Even weirder, he insisted speaking in Russian with younger Georgians who spoke in English and did not know any Russian. Not only the unfortunate Georgians were completely confused on what he was asking, I was perplexed on why he insisted on speaking in his awfully sounding Russian. I am such a snob. I am sure his Russian is great, I just hate blatant, in-your-face show-offs.
Being an insane banya affectionato, the expat also showed me the local baths. They appear to be Turkish style but a little different. Although the roofs of the baths are rounded like the Turkish ones, there isn’t a huge round hot slab in the middle of the bath where you can sweat your heart out. But, and I smelled this a good mile away, Georgian baths have a large whirl-pool like bath full of warm sulphur water. In addition, the bigger ones also have a warm sauna. I say warm because it didn’t feel very hot when I peeked in. And each room has a small table where a masseuse or masseur (whomever you prefer) would scrub the hell out of you with a wool mitt and then wash you with crazy bubbly soap water so you look like Michelin tire man. And then they rinse you. Very Turkish. The baths that I was shown are private, meaning, you walk into a building, there are separate rooms, each equipped with a dressing/resting area which lead to another room that has a sulphur bath and a massage table. The larger and more expensive ones have saunas and additional rest area rooms. One large one shown to me had a bed. As you can tell, I’ve started doing some “research” and learning that baths are fully equipped with staff that can provide “happy endings.” pending the customer’s wishes and desires.
After all the wondering and “research,” I got trashed at small ‘hole in a wall’ type of local drinking establishment by having half a pint of beer. Yea, I’m turning into a lush from a half a pint! I blame it on its high alcohol volume (12.5%!). And lack of food in my belly. Fortunately, everyone was starving and we got some Azeri food at a nearby restaurant. I was so happy to get home that night; I think the Azeri food, although delicious, didn’t really agree with my poor trashed belly. Mmm, Sultan’s revenge!
Sunday I met with a couple of expats at a small café that clearly caters to tourists. It has a very Western feel to it – coffee brewing, books everywhere, little tables – your typical “Friends” café sans annoying Joey or anal character who is married to David Arquette. I guess it’s also one of the main hang out spots for expats since a couple started to tournament of Scrabble. Being a non-Scrabbled, I took an opportunity to wonder around a city with an expat who has lived here for about three years. He showed me the local outdoor market but since it was drizzling, not many people were selling their stuff. We also wondered around the old town which is really cool. Next time I am there, I’ll take pictures. The old town used to be the primary quarters for merchants who were passing through town and some of the buildings that have been recently renovated but still maintain the appearance of a merchant hotel. According to the expat, the ground floor housed camels while the third floor of such hotel was designated as resting quarters. Second floor was used to business and entertainment. I am not sure how much of this is true but judging by the structure of the buildings, it seemed plausible. He also seemed to be one of those “know-it-alls” – the type that would not stop blabbering, showing off the ever expansive knowledge about Georgia and pretty much everything else in the world. Even weirder, he insisted speaking in Russian with younger Georgians who spoke in English and did not know any Russian. Not only the unfortunate Georgians were completely confused on what he was asking, I was perplexed on why he insisted on speaking in his awfully sounding Russian. I am such a snob. I am sure his Russian is great, I just hate blatant, in-your-face show-offs.
Being an insane banya affectionato, the expat also showed me the local baths. They appear to be Turkish style but a little different. Although the roofs of the baths are rounded like the Turkish ones, there isn’t a huge round hot slab in the middle of the bath where you can sweat your heart out. But, and I smelled this a good mile away, Georgian baths have a large whirl-pool like bath full of warm sulphur water. In addition, the bigger ones also have a warm sauna. I say warm because it didn’t feel very hot when I peeked in. And each room has a small table where a masseuse or masseur (whomever you prefer) would scrub the hell out of you with a wool mitt and then wash you with crazy bubbly soap water so you look like Michelin tire man. And then they rinse you. Very Turkish. The baths that I was shown are private, meaning, you walk into a building, there are separate rooms, each equipped with a dressing/resting area which lead to another room that has a sulphur bath and a massage table. The larger and more expensive ones have saunas and additional rest area rooms. One large one shown to me had a bed. As you can tell, I’ve started doing some “research” and learning that baths are fully equipped with staff that can provide “happy endings.” pending the customer’s wishes and desires.
After all the wondering and “research,” I got trashed at small ‘hole in a wall’ type of local drinking establishment by having half a pint of beer. Yea, I’m turning into a lush from a half a pint! I blame it on its high alcohol volume (12.5%!). And lack of food in my belly. Fortunately, everyone was starving and we got some Azeri food at a nearby restaurant. I was so happy to get home that night; I think the Azeri food, although delicious, didn’t really agree with my poor trashed belly. Mmm, Sultan’s revenge!
Monday, June 06, 2005
So this is Georgia?
I trekked to my sponsor’s office to get my visa extension. They told me to get there any time between 9am and 5pm. So I did. It took me forever to find the office because it was tucked away on some tiny, muddy street. Once I got there, it turned out that the woman whom I had to meet had her Georgian lesson. Something she didn’t mention to me when I originally made plans with her. And her assistant told me that I needed a passport size photo in order to apply for a visa extension. Something she didn’t tell me when I explicitly asked her what the visa extension procedure involved. Feeling really annoyed and exhausted, I went home with my visa extension form.
I realized in the past few days here in Georgia that if some says to meet him or her at 4pm, that actually means more around 4:30pm, if not even later. If someone says that he or she will be somewhere in 30 minutes, usually that means more like an hour and a half. If I ask a question, the answer will be contain information only pertaining to my question, there will not be any additional information that is vital to the question asked. For example, when I asked: “what do I need to do to extend my visa?” The answer was: “you will need to fill out a form. Please come to our office between 9am and 5pm.” It’s a little annoying but also great as I realize that I will never be later for anything. But like driving in Tbilisi where you anticipate the other driver’s move in order to avoid accidents, I also need to start asking more questions in anticipation of information that may not be otherwise said to me.
I realized in the past few days here in Georgia that if some says to meet him or her at 4pm, that actually means more around 4:30pm, if not even later. If someone says that he or she will be somewhere in 30 minutes, usually that means more like an hour and a half. If I ask a question, the answer will be contain information only pertaining to my question, there will not be any additional information that is vital to the question asked. For example, when I asked: “what do I need to do to extend my visa?” The answer was: “you will need to fill out a form. Please come to our office between 9am and 5pm.” It’s a little annoying but also great as I realize that I will never be later for anything. But like driving in Tbilisi where you anticipate the other driver’s move in order to avoid accidents, I also need to start asking more questions in anticipation of information that may not be otherwise said to me.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Dancing Revolution
Since Sleater Kinney is not touring in Tbilisi, last night I went to a Georgian folk dance performance. The company is apparently famous and has toured throughout the world since 1945. It was started by a couple and after their passing away, it has been taken over by their children and grandchildren. In addition, current dancers are the children and grandchildren of the original dancers, essentially making it a family run affair. The dances that were choreographed in 1940s were based on folk dances that were performed in villages in the old time Georgia and such public performances apparently did not exist until this specific dance company started.
The whole thing was really amazing. I’ve seen such dances performed on TV while growing up in Latvia but I never had a chance to see them live. Or at least, I don’t remember seeing them, I am sure my parents will have some say in this. Generally, most dances are performed by men and, as my friend explained, they are either showing off their mightiness or fighting over a woman. Women tiptoed and fluttered around, waving white flags of peace. Compared to men, their dancing was fairly stiff and not much was happening. My friend explained that traditionally women were required to act respectfully towards men with patients, gentleness, and passivity. Hence their rather passive dancing. Also, apparently, men were forbidden to touch women unless they are married, therefore there is not physical interaction between men and women on stage. You’ll notice in pictures below how stiff and symmetrical women and men are. Since the light was super low and I didn’t use flash or any special settings, some of the pictures didn’t come out too well although they look really cool.
Although all of the dances looked stunning due to the speed and crazy leg work, the most jaw-dropping dance was performed by men with daggers. It was insane, not only they were jumping and twirling on their feet and their knees (!), but they were also waving and hitting each other’s daggers to a point where sparks were flying left and right. And the dance lasted for a good 15- 20 minutes. I have no idea how no one was injured or cut. There are pictures below of this insanity.
Since the original directors of the company died, their grandchildren went a little wild and choreographed new dances with the same folk undertones but also incorporated elements that are now considered radical. For example, women wore pants under their dresses, something that was unheard of before the youngens took over. Unlike the stiff traditional dances, women were also jumping and kicking their feet into the air – very different from the tip-toeing in the traditional dances. One of the war dances was performed by women, which, as you can imagine, traditionally was reserved for men. Apparently, there are a lot of rumblings from purists who are annoyed by the new choreography but my friends were really enthusiastic as evident in their exuberant hand clapping and thought it was about time for women to be equal to men on stage, which, in their hopes, would transition into the general society. Since Georgia just had a Rose Revolution to overthrow Shevardnadze, I figured, why not Dancing Revolution for gender rights? Yes, I am full of wit.
Apparently, when Bush came to town, this company was performing throughout his visit here. I am sure you’ve seen a clip of him shaking his ass several times on TV. Well, since this was the company’s 50th Anniversary, they also played short clips of the performances from the 1940s and later. As they showed clips of the original directors, the crowd would clap and cheer. They ended with a short clip with Bush shaking his ass and then waving out of the limo with a HUGE grin on his face. The crowd went wild, people were clapping, cheering and whistling. Incidentally, the dagger dance was not performed when Bush was here for security reasons. But my friend informed me that he really liked the women’s worrier dance. I am not sure why, probably not because of the symbolism of women’s emancipation, but probably because they wore these metal coin-like breast shields that made a cool metallic jingle sound. Jingle, jingle!
Anyways, that was my adventure yesterday. The electricity has been good today (I’m knocking on wood) but it’s been cold and rainy. I hope it warms up soon because I didn’t bring a lot of cold weather clothing. And it’s bad news for my watermelons. Not those, silly, the ones that grow on land and need a lot of sunshine while awaiting my consumption. And the light bulb in the bathroom burned out so hopefully, I can figure out where to buy a light bulb soon.
The whole thing was really amazing. I’ve seen such dances performed on TV while growing up in Latvia but I never had a chance to see them live. Or at least, I don’t remember seeing them, I am sure my parents will have some say in this. Generally, most dances are performed by men and, as my friend explained, they are either showing off their mightiness or fighting over a woman. Women tiptoed and fluttered around, waving white flags of peace. Compared to men, their dancing was fairly stiff and not much was happening. My friend explained that traditionally women were required to act respectfully towards men with patients, gentleness, and passivity. Hence their rather passive dancing. Also, apparently, men were forbidden to touch women unless they are married, therefore there is not physical interaction between men and women on stage. You’ll notice in pictures below how stiff and symmetrical women and men are. Since the light was super low and I didn’t use flash or any special settings, some of the pictures didn’t come out too well although they look really cool.
Although all of the dances looked stunning due to the speed and crazy leg work, the most jaw-dropping dance was performed by men with daggers. It was insane, not only they were jumping and twirling on their feet and their knees (!), but they were also waving and hitting each other’s daggers to a point where sparks were flying left and right. And the dance lasted for a good 15- 20 minutes. I have no idea how no one was injured or cut. There are pictures below of this insanity.
Since the original directors of the company died, their grandchildren went a little wild and choreographed new dances with the same folk undertones but also incorporated elements that are now considered radical. For example, women wore pants under their dresses, something that was unheard of before the youngens took over. Unlike the stiff traditional dances, women were also jumping and kicking their feet into the air – very different from the tip-toeing in the traditional dances. One of the war dances was performed by women, which, as you can imagine, traditionally was reserved for men. Apparently, there are a lot of rumblings from purists who are annoyed by the new choreography but my friends were really enthusiastic as evident in their exuberant hand clapping and thought it was about time for women to be equal to men on stage, which, in their hopes, would transition into the general society. Since Georgia just had a Rose Revolution to overthrow Shevardnadze, I figured, why not Dancing Revolution for gender rights? Yes, I am full of wit.
Apparently, when Bush came to town, this company was performing throughout his visit here. I am sure you’ve seen a clip of him shaking his ass several times on TV. Well, since this was the company’s 50th Anniversary, they also played short clips of the performances from the 1940s and later. As they showed clips of the original directors, the crowd would clap and cheer. They ended with a short clip with Bush shaking his ass and then waving out of the limo with a HUGE grin on his face. The crowd went wild, people were clapping, cheering and whistling. Incidentally, the dagger dance was not performed when Bush was here for security reasons. But my friend informed me that he really liked the women’s worrier dance. I am not sure why, probably not because of the symbolism of women’s emancipation, but probably because they wore these metal coin-like breast shields that made a cool metallic jingle sound. Jingle, jingle!
Anyways, that was my adventure yesterday. The electricity has been good today (I’m knocking on wood) but it’s been cold and rainy. I hope it warms up soon because I didn’t bring a lot of cold weather clothing. And it’s bad news for my watermelons. Not those, silly, the ones that grow on land and need a lot of sunshine while awaiting my consumption. And the light bulb in the bathroom burned out so hopefully, I can figure out where to buy a light bulb soon.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
I am fairly sure I got ripped off by an old lady.
Tbilisi is a funny town. If shops bothered to put more signs in English, I am sure they would entice more foreigners to visit. After all, it’s an ancient city full of historical landmarks any European would love. Of course, note the fact that I wrote European, not American. There are, of course, adventurous types but most visit Italy. But the food here is delicious, people are, for most, helpful and it’s not expensive.
But since no much in Tbilisi makes sense, I can see why it is not on the route of the popular cruise ship liners. Well, I am pushing it a little since the nearest body of water is far away.
One of the things in Tbilisi that makes no sense is driving. Anyone who has been to a Central Asian country would agree with me. Although drivers somewhat obey light signals, any other driving rules are thrown out the window. As my landlord pointed out, it’s not about obeying traffic laws - it’s about guessing which driving rule the other driver will break. Last time I checked, if you approach a round-about, cars that are already driving around the round-about have the right of turn. Not here; you just drive and hope to God no one hits you. There is a whole lot of honking and break screeching. Instead of a two lane streets, they become three or four lane streets with white marking on the street lose all meaning. Repeatedly drivers run through the red light. Now, taking all this into an account, imagine what it feels like to cross the street when a car is barreling towards you at 40mph and honking. And I am talking about crossing the street at a designated pedestrian area with the green light for the pedestrian. Needless to say, at the end of 2 months here, I am sure I will be the queen of underground passages. Which are intermittent so you have to plan ahead of time to use the underground passages, otherwise you are stuck walking for an extra couple of blocks to cross the street. Or take you chances while dodging cars.
The other downside of Tbilisi is that there isn’t a very good public transportation system. Occasionally, I see a bus or a trolly but most people take privately run mini-vans that sort of function like buses. Except that their routes are written in Georgian and for a tourist, it’s hard to figure out which one will take you to the area where you want to get. My friend here told me not to take them anyways because apparently, in the summer time, “there are really bad smells.” Taxis are apparently cheap and there is a Metro that I think I may use. But for now, I am dodging cars as I cross the street and keep a mental map of underground passages.
Speaking of taking the Metro, there are a lot of power outages. In fact, as I write this, there is a power outage. During my three days here, this is the second one that I noticed because I was home during its occurrence. And since the Metro is run on electricity, I am not quite sure if taking it is more advantageous than putting up with the bad smells of the mini-van. I read somewhere that in a case of a power outage, one could sit in a tunnel for hours. And it’s been about couple of hours since the lights went off in the apartment.
On a more positive side, the food here is really good. The cucumbers taste like cucumbers; tomatoes are deep red and taste delicious! It seems that a lot of Georgian dishes also use cheese which is ready available. I am still on the look out for my beloved watermelon, right now, there are only raspberries and strawberries sold by old ladies on the street sides.
Speaking about old ladies, yesterday, I stopped by this little veggie stand that is run by an old Georgian lady right next to my apartment. My landlord told me that she is a neighbor so I figured she would be nice. When one buys groceries here, you must specify amounts in kilos or grams. It’s a little confusing since I wanted 2 cucumbers, 4 tomatoes, a handful of potatoes and some dill and I have no clue how many grams each item would weigh. Earlier I bought some cheese and the store lady asked me how much I wanted and since I had no clue, I showed her with my hands the width of the cheese wedge that I desired. It turned out to be 400 grams. But back to the cucumbers and tomatoes. As we measured the weight and calculated, I could have sworn she said 1 Lari and 80 Tetri. Well, actually, she didn’t say Lari, she said: “odin rublj i vosemdesjet” which in English is translated as “one ruble and eighty.” Oh, since I don’t speak Georgian, I’ve been speaking in Russian. Listening to a Latvian/American speaking in Russian with a Georgian is fairly comical since no one seems to know Russian that well and everyone has a funky accent. Anyways, so since I only had 20 Lari, the lady asked me to get smaller bills because she didn’t have change. I wondered around the neighborhood, trying to get change at a hair salon, then at a pharmacy, finally, I bought some yogurt at another market where the sales lady barked at me. Well, not literal bark but customer service here is something left desired. But I didn’t care about her barking, I was dodging cars on the street, trying to make it back to the vegetable stand, all happy with change in my hand. Upon my arrival, I gave the lady 1 Lari 80 to which she asked me why I was giving her the money. I reminder her about my vegetables and she screamed back, saying that I wasn’t giving her enough money and started saying something in an aggravated tone to the Georgian woman who was standing next to me. Then she told me that I owed her 3 Lari 85. I asked how that could be and she replied back by pointing at my vegetables and yelling how I had bought a lot of vegetables. At that point, I didn’t really care and gave her the requested amount so that I can get my vegetables and move on with my life. After all, instead of paying $1, I paid $2, which in the grand scheme of things, it’s not a huge amount and I am sure God will reward me one day for being such a benevolent human being. Of course, I will never go back to that vegetable stand since there are about 5 other vegetable stands near my apartment. All of which require dodging cars.
And there is still no electricity in the apartment. It’s been three hours. Not that it’s a big deal but I need to heat cold water to take a shower. Oh, never mind, it just came back on! Yey!
But since no much in Tbilisi makes sense, I can see why it is not on the route of the popular cruise ship liners. Well, I am pushing it a little since the nearest body of water is far away.
One of the things in Tbilisi that makes no sense is driving. Anyone who has been to a Central Asian country would agree with me. Although drivers somewhat obey light signals, any other driving rules are thrown out the window. As my landlord pointed out, it’s not about obeying traffic laws - it’s about guessing which driving rule the other driver will break. Last time I checked, if you approach a round-about, cars that are already driving around the round-about have the right of turn. Not here; you just drive and hope to God no one hits you. There is a whole lot of honking and break screeching. Instead of a two lane streets, they become three or four lane streets with white marking on the street lose all meaning. Repeatedly drivers run through the red light. Now, taking all this into an account, imagine what it feels like to cross the street when a car is barreling towards you at 40mph and honking. And I am talking about crossing the street at a designated pedestrian area with the green light for the pedestrian. Needless to say, at the end of 2 months here, I am sure I will be the queen of underground passages. Which are intermittent so you have to plan ahead of time to use the underground passages, otherwise you are stuck walking for an extra couple of blocks to cross the street. Or take you chances while dodging cars.
The other downside of Tbilisi is that there isn’t a very good public transportation system. Occasionally, I see a bus or a trolly but most people take privately run mini-vans that sort of function like buses. Except that their routes are written in Georgian and for a tourist, it’s hard to figure out which one will take you to the area where you want to get. My friend here told me not to take them anyways because apparently, in the summer time, “there are really bad smells.” Taxis are apparently cheap and there is a Metro that I think I may use. But for now, I am dodging cars as I cross the street and keep a mental map of underground passages.
Speaking of taking the Metro, there are a lot of power outages. In fact, as I write this, there is a power outage. During my three days here, this is the second one that I noticed because I was home during its occurrence. And since the Metro is run on electricity, I am not quite sure if taking it is more advantageous than putting up with the bad smells of the mini-van. I read somewhere that in a case of a power outage, one could sit in a tunnel for hours. And it’s been about couple of hours since the lights went off in the apartment.
On a more positive side, the food here is really good. The cucumbers taste like cucumbers; tomatoes are deep red and taste delicious! It seems that a lot of Georgian dishes also use cheese which is ready available. I am still on the look out for my beloved watermelon, right now, there are only raspberries and strawberries sold by old ladies on the street sides.
Speaking about old ladies, yesterday, I stopped by this little veggie stand that is run by an old Georgian lady right next to my apartment. My landlord told me that she is a neighbor so I figured she would be nice. When one buys groceries here, you must specify amounts in kilos or grams. It’s a little confusing since I wanted 2 cucumbers, 4 tomatoes, a handful of potatoes and some dill and I have no clue how many grams each item would weigh. Earlier I bought some cheese and the store lady asked me how much I wanted and since I had no clue, I showed her with my hands the width of the cheese wedge that I desired. It turned out to be 400 grams. But back to the cucumbers and tomatoes. As we measured the weight and calculated, I could have sworn she said 1 Lari and 80 Tetri. Well, actually, she didn’t say Lari, she said: “odin rublj i vosemdesjet” which in English is translated as “one ruble and eighty.” Oh, since I don’t speak Georgian, I’ve been speaking in Russian. Listening to a Latvian/American speaking in Russian with a Georgian is fairly comical since no one seems to know Russian that well and everyone has a funky accent. Anyways, so since I only had 20 Lari, the lady asked me to get smaller bills because she didn’t have change. I wondered around the neighborhood, trying to get change at a hair salon, then at a pharmacy, finally, I bought some yogurt at another market where the sales lady barked at me. Well, not literal bark but customer service here is something left desired. But I didn’t care about her barking, I was dodging cars on the street, trying to make it back to the vegetable stand, all happy with change in my hand. Upon my arrival, I gave the lady 1 Lari 80 to which she asked me why I was giving her the money. I reminder her about my vegetables and she screamed back, saying that I wasn’t giving her enough money and started saying something in an aggravated tone to the Georgian woman who was standing next to me. Then she told me that I owed her 3 Lari 85. I asked how that could be and she replied back by pointing at my vegetables and yelling how I had bought a lot of vegetables. At that point, I didn’t really care and gave her the requested amount so that I can get my vegetables and move on with my life. After all, instead of paying $1, I paid $2, which in the grand scheme of things, it’s not a huge amount and I am sure God will reward me one day for being such a benevolent human being. Of course, I will never go back to that vegetable stand since there are about 5 other vegetable stands near my apartment. All of which require dodging cars.
And there is still no electricity in the apartment. It’s been three hours. Not that it’s a big deal but I need to heat cold water to take a shower. Oh, never mind, it just came back on! Yey!
Friday, June 03, 2005
Safe & Sound
Whew! Made it to Tbilisi safe and sound. My sleeping patterns are out of wack - I wake up at an unheard hour of 6am (yes, 6am - I didn't know such hour exists since generally, I don't wake up before noon), I nap for hours in the afternoon and then lament over sleeplessness at 2am.
Anyways, I will post more fun facts and impressions in the upcoming days.
Anyways, I will post more fun facts and impressions in the upcoming days.
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