A Quick Observation.......................

In Georgia, all physical maladies can be cured in one of two ways. You need either to eat a certain type of Georgian food or to go to a certain location in Georgia and breathe the air. The foods and locations vary depending on what ails you. In a place with no medical insurance, it's nice to know that there's always a quick fix for any problem that may arise!!

The US Peace Corps Director comes to Georgia!

We had an interesting week. Ron Tschetter, the US Director of the Peace Corps, was in Georgia for a visit. Since the Peace Corps is now actively attempting to enlist older volunteers, we were invited to meet and have lunch with him as the local poster children for this new initiative. However, in order for us to do so, we needed to travel to another city in Georgia (Zestafoni) where the luncheon was scheduled to be held. That required that first we go to Kutaisi, where we were to stay overnight at a guest house, and then travel to Zestafoni the following morning in order to arrive in time for lunch. Unfortunately, our get-together was set to occur on the same day as a large rally in opposition to the current government was to take place in Tbilisi, the capital. Small rallies have been held in various regions of the country over the past few weeks and they were set to culminate in a very large rally in Tbilisi to be held on the same day as we were to have lunch. A regional opposition rally that was held in Zugdidi a couple of weeks ago turned violent when persons supporting the current government clashed with opposition supporters, and pictures of the violence in Zugdidi were shown on TV all over the country. When we went to catch a marshutka or bus from Zugdidi to Kutaisi the day before the lunch (and the rally in Tbilisi) we were told that no marshutkas or buses would be operating between Zugdidi and the larger cities to the East until after the rally was over. We could only speculate as to why. We managed to identify and board a rogue marshutka that was traveling in the correct direction (without a destination sign in its window), but we were stopped by the police about 15 miles outside of town. After a great deal of agitated conversation and the arrival of additional police, the passengers on the marshutka were ushered off onto the shoulder of the highway and the marshutka was taken by the police back in the direction of Zugdidi. We latched on to a lady who was a fellow passenger in the marshutka who was also heading to Kutaisi and decided that whatever she did to deal with the situation we were going to do as well! Fortune shined upon us a short time later when we caught a taxi and completed the rest of the trip without incident. We enjoyed a nice dinner at a restaurant with two fellow Peace Corps volunteers and then returned to the guest house where we spent the rest of the evening talking with the owner (who spoke pretty good English) and a young couple from France who were in the last month of a seven month road trip which they started from Beijing. The following morning we caught a marshutka to Zestafoni without any problem, had our lunch with the Director and our Country Director (at a table for 4) and caught a (very) slow train back to Zugdidi. The Director seemed to be a pretty regular guy, who was genuinely interested in our experiences so far and our suggestions as to how the Peace Corps might better achieve its goal of attracting older volunteers. Of course, we had to have a picture taken with him. It appears below.

Yesterday..................................

(written Friday, 10/19/07). Yesterday was a big day. First, when I got to the office and checked my email I found I had email messages from both my son Craig and my daughter Molly which asked that we call them right away concerning an emergency involving our son Drew, who is a Peace Corps volunteer in Panama. They had each tried to call us, but neither could get through (no one can). Of course it was the middle of the night for both of them at that point, but I tried unsuccessfully to reach them by phone none-the-less. When they didn't pick up, I left messages for each. The emails which they sent were not particularly enlightening as to the precise nature of Drew's problem, which caused us additional angst. As far as we understood, he was in a hospital with what was thought to be Dengue Fever. Since Drew was just about to get get out of the Peace Corps to begin a two month trip around South America before returning to Panama to serve a 6 month stint in the Crisis Corps (an adjunct organization of the Peace Corps), we didn't know if he was in Panama or in a hospital somewhere else in South America. After a flurry of calls, we finally succeeded in getting in touch with our son Craig who said that he had received a voice mail message from Drew the day before asking him to get in touch with us to let us know. He said that Drew didn't sound good on the message, and that prompted him to "declare an emergency". As it turned out, Drew was scheduled to end his Peace Corps service and fly to Lima, Peru on the first leg of his South American adventure two days after he became ill. He is presently in a hospital in Panama City where he is recovering from Dengue Fever. We were able to get in touch with him by phone and he sounds like he is on the road to recovery. However, because of the nature of the disease, they want to be sure that he is okay before turning him loose. Apparently there are two varieties of illness, one "not so bad" and the other "very bad". They want to be sure that he has the former variety and not the latter. Hopefully, he will be out of the hospital within a week. The Peace Corps has administratively extended his Peace Corps service, and they are supervising (and paying for) his care. I guess if this had to happen, it was better that it happened when it did, rather than few days later when he would have no longer been in the Peace Corps and would have been on his own in Peru.

The second thing of significance that happened yesterday was that I got back my computer that had basically gotten so many viruses that it stopped working. After unsuccessfully trying to deal with the problems myself, I brought the computer in to a computer store in Zugdidi, where they said they would take a look at it and see what they could do. Of course, I did not bring to Georgia any of the original installation disks for the programs I have on the computer, and I was also concerned that something they might do would endanger either the data in those programs or the many pictures which I have taken since our arrival in Georgia back in June. Fortunately, no data was lost and the computer now works again, although I did lose some of my programs. All in all, I feel fortunate. The results could have been much worse.

The final item of particular significance which rounded out the day yesterday was that I received the World Space Satellite Radio that I ordered about 6 weeks ago. It will allow us to receive some English language programming (NPR!!). For reasons that are not worth the telling, the radio was shipped from Dubai to Glens Falls and then to Georgia. The radio arrived a month and a day after it was sent by the USPS express delivery service from GF! I was beginning to think that it it had gotten "misdirected" along the way and that I would never get it. You can imagine my joy when someone delivered a note to my office that said I had a package at the post office. Now I've just got to figure out how to set it up.

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Today, a Georgian fellow who I had earlier met took me out to have Khashi for breakfast. Khashi is cow's feet which have been boiled. It is sometimes served in a soup made of broth and milk. You put salt and hot mustard on Khashi before you eat it (probably to help mask the taste), and you either drink beer or vodka when you eat it. There are only a few restaurants in the area that serve Khashi, which is always eaten in the morning (the place we went to served Khashi from 7 am to 10 am). The restaurant was packed with other Khashi eaters when we got there, all of whom were men. Apparently, only men go out to eat Khashi (when I was invited to go, I suggested that maybe Lisa would like to come, and it was explained to me that women generally don't go out to eat Khashi). We had vodka with our Khashi (at 8 am!). Khashi is traditionally eaten by those who have had too much to drink the night before; kind of like a "hair of the dog" approach. Depending on how late the festivities run the night before, revelers can go directly to eat some Khashi before retiring. It is supposed to settle your stomach and counter the ill-effects resulting from the over-consumption of alcohol.

Georgian Food....................

I had no intention of writing a blog entry today. I came home from school at 4pm not having eaten since breakfast, so I naturally stuck my head in the fridge. To my surprise I was greeted by a large bowl of pigs feet, another bowl containing a huge heart, liver and other entrails, and finally, the piece de resistance, a whole (roasted) pig's head. That made me decide it was now time to launch into making that blog entry I have been planning regarding Georgian food.

As it turns out, our neighbor Anzor slaughtered one of his pigs on Sunday. Mark was home to hear the squeals and observe the process. Luckily for me, I was in Tbilisi and didn't return home until the late afternoon. So last night we were treated to a feast of fresh (and I mean fresh!) roast pork with all the fixins. The fixins are pretty much the same as we have at every meal: sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, jalapenos and salt, massive amounts of fresh bread, sliced cheese that is somewhat salty and a meat sauce made from sour plums with some hot spices. Other high frequency foods are natural casing long frankfurters, sliced salami, chicken legs (don't know where the breasts go but I've never seen one here) and 60/40 ground beef. Just about all food preparation is on the cooktop with the exception of cakes. Also, you can pretty much be sure that whatever you are eating has been prepared using lots of cooking oil.

The food section at the bazaar is fabulous. There are bountiful vegis, but you won't find any type of lettuce there (although parsley, cilantro and basil are plentiful). There are lots of apples, peaches, plums, fresh figs (before they are dried) and cherries (in June), and I am told the mandarini (small orange) season is in winter and they are everywhere in massive amounts. They had a surplus last year and apparently dumped tons in the Black Sea! There are also many varieties of nuts. Georgia is especially known for its hazelnuts and walnuts. Recently, I was treated to a tour of the local hazelnut packaging factory, which is one of the main businesses here in the city of Zugdidi. One whole section of the bazaar is devoted to just spices, which are displayed in large sacks. Another huge section is strictly cheeses (most vendors selling exactly the same product as the person next to him). Most of the cheeses are very salty. Cheddar or swiss cheese is nowhere to be found. There is also a big area where various grains are for sale and the vendors are all armed with big scoops and ancient looking weight measuring scales. Perhaps the most striking part of the bazaar though is the area where the fresh meat is sold. There is no refrigeration, of course. The meat hangs from hooks, and the flies appear to be having a field day! Also, if you are one of the "roll your own" crowd, you can pick up just about any kind of tobacco you are looking for from one of the many tobacco vendors stationed at the bazaar. Every city, town or village of any size in Georgia has a bazaar, where almost everything you might need can be found.

The food specialities here are : khachapuri, sort of like a cheese only pizza (served at almost every meal) and khink'ali, a dumpling filled with spicy meat which is boiled and eaten smothered in pepper (and is always served with beer). Also, there are many bean dishes. They also make unsweet pastries filled with mashed potatoes. As you can imagine, Mark's Atkins Diet has fallen by the wayside here in Georgia. They also serve seasoned pork on skewers, which is known as mtsvati.

Our family is always harvesting something, usually various fruits or nuts. The nuts are dried and jam or mouraba is made from the fruit. Mouraba is juicier than jam and is served with homemade yogurt known as matsoni. Dannons will never taste the same to me! Honey is a local product so that is also a popular condiment.

We have introduced the family to popcorn (bati-buti), which is hard to come by here, and they really love it. They couldn't believe that so much popcorn could be produced from what seemed like such a small number of popcorn kernels.

The cakes made here are always from scratch and are huge. Most are at least 16" in diameter and 3 layers tall. Although these huge cakes are heavy, they are very light to the taste and have a not too sweet custard type frosting. Often they are garnished with glazed fruits.

As you can see we are eating well. We like the food, but the only problem is repetition. The same foods are at every meal and each restaurant has identical menus. I never realized how fortunate we are in the United States to have so many ethnic foods to choose from as well as access to just about any food ingredient you can think of. We also have so many food preparation methods with microwaves, gas grills, crock pots and ovens. No one here has any idea what a microwave oven is.

I have had fun trying to cook on occasion. So far I have made applesauce, eggplant parmesean, french onion soup and blackbean soup.

So back to the beginning. After surveying the possibilities in the refrigerator (monsivari), I settled for popcorn for my snack. So be sure to savor whatever delicious American food you may be having tonight! !!!

The Pig's head

The feet

The other stuff

Beso cleaning out our non-frost free refrigerator. It is so rare for a man to do something in the kitchen that we had to take a picture!

Eka (right) and her sister trying to fit the requisite number of candles on my birthday cake

Getting ready for my birthday supra to begin.

A bit of smoke fills the kitchen. The red thing on the floor is what they used to bake my cake. The stove oven doesn't work.

Giving Mom a smooch in the kitchen.

Helping with the canning out back.

Mark stringing up an extra length of clotesline to make room for the nuts drying on the line.

A lady who has a cake shop in a tunnel under the street (used by people to cross the street to minimize the risk of getting knocked off by a passing motorist)

A meat stand set up on the street on the way to school. Notice the ax on the table.

The spot where the meat vendor butchered what ever is was that he was selling.

Youth Bank.......................

I have just returned from a 5 day training at a hotel outside Tbilisi (the capital), which is about 6 hours away from Zugdidi where we live.The training related to a project sponsored by the Eurasia Foundation known as Youth Bank. The concept originated in 1999 in Northern Ireland and now there are Youth Banks which have been set up all over the world. Here in Georgia interested people between the ages of 16 and 24 completed applications, and each applicant was interviewed by representatives of the Eurasia Foundation. Seven people were then chosen from each of five different socio-economically challenged regions of the country, including Samegrelo, where Zugdidi is located. All 35 Youth Bank members then traveled to Tbilisi for the conference, which was held in a hotel/conference center about 10 km outside of town. I'm sure it was the first time some of the kids had ever been to the capital and the first time that others had ever stayed in a hotel. Some were from minority areas of the Country and barely speak Georgian! They speak Armenian or Azeri instead. The six trainers were from Northern Ireland, and the brogue which some of them had made it difficult to understand them as well!! You can imagine the linguistic nightmare that the training presented, but surprisingly, things went fairly well. There were 3 interpreters in attendence at all times, and the training went from 9:30 each morning to 9:30 each evening, with breaks for meals at the hotel. The Youth Bank concept is that the Youth Bank is given a sum of money which it then disburses to fund small community development projects proposed by other youths from the region. I think the Eurasia Foundation intends to provide initial funding of 7,500 GEL to each of the five Youth Banks being established in Georgia. The training related to the methodology which the Bank's members are to use in soliciting and evaluating project proposals, interviewing applicants, selecting projects to be funded, entering into contracts with successful applicants, and finally, monitoring and evaluating funded projects. The training was very professionally done and was specifically oriented toward the 16-24 year old crowd it was aimed at. For instance, at one point, a film clip of a love scene from a movie was shown. The scene was quite graphic, but no sex was actually depicted. The kids then broke into groups and individually wrote down everything they had seen in the film clip. Of course, most of them said that the couple had had sex. The exercise was intended to to make the point that when an interviewer is reporting to the full board on a project proposal, he is to report only that which he actually observes or which he is told. Interviewers are not supposed to interject their own personal thoughts or conclusions regarding project proposals. If the kids did not see the couple having sex they should not have reported that they did! The training is now over and everyone has gone back to their respective homes across the country. In the upcoming months we will see whether or not the concept of a Youth Bank will work here in Georgia.

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In Georgia, almost everyone has a cell phone (kids included), and among the kids, the kind of cell phone you have is a status symbol. The more bells and whistles the better. At the conference, one kid even had a video cell phone, where each party to the call could see the other person (or anything else the camera was aimed at) in surprisingly good video (both parties had to have similarly equipped phones of course)!!

The Start of School...................

(Written September 18, 2007). September 17th finally arrived. As is the Lebowitz Family tradition, Mark took my picture with my host sister Nino as we left the house all shiny and clean for the first day of school. The only thing missing was the school bus approaching from the rear on West River Road. We have taken that picture every year since Craig's first year in Kindergarten. As Nino and I proceeded on the 25 minute walk to school I began to hear very loud music playing, as though either a band was tuning up to play for a wedding or a car with a supersized boom box was approaching. The music grew louder until I realized it was coming from the front yard of a school (not mine) along our way, where many students were milling around. As we continued toward our school, I began to see many parents and children all heading in the same direction. Many were holding hands with each other, but what caught my eye in particular was how finely everyone seemed to be dressed and how nice everyone seemed to be "fixed up".
As we approached the school building we heard different music which grew in volume as we got closer. When I saw the building I was quite amazed. It is a large building, 2 stories high, which houses 1200 students. It is surrounded by a tall iron fence and a large paved enclosure. The place was teeming with people, mothers and fathers, teachers and students, big and small. Almost half of them were carrying large, beautiful flower arrangements. There were flower peddlers who had set up shop for the day outside the gates. Music was blasting and the children were running around like whirling dervishes, greeting friends, teachers and relatives. The traditional greeting here is either an "air kiss" or a regular kiss on the left cheek. This is done by everyone, regardless of sex or age. As is also the cultural norm here, there is no such thing as personal space, so you are constantly being squeezed, bumped into or or leaned upon by others who are going about their business.
Eventually I attempted to make my way to the main entrance to greet the director of the school ("superintendent"), Nino. Before I got there though, I was intercepted by the head of the English department, another Nino, who escorted me through the crowd to an area where her collegues were hanging out. (By the way, in case you have not surmised, Nino is a very popular name here for girls, just as Giorgi is for boys. If your name is Nino or Giorgi you get to celebrate on your birthday and on St. Nino's Day or St. George's Day as well!) Anyway, on the top steps of the school there was assembled a mixed group of children and administrators. As I was waiting for the opening words to mark the beginning of the new school year, I realized that the Director was already speaking into the microphone. The problem was that the crowd was making so much noise and running around that you could not hear anything. Eventually, the national anthem was played over the P.A. system and it managed to catch everyone's ear, afterwhich a small mixed choral group began to sing. The sound system failed twice during their performance, but they made a quick recovery each time. Then a girl, who must have been the student body president, addressed the group. Since I couldn't understand what she was saying in Georgian I became fixed on her outfit as she spoke. She wore a frilly blouse, short skirt and white Go-Go boots topped with white feathers! The girls here are stick thin from pre-pubescence until they reach middleage. It really looks as though they eat nothing (in another entry I'll tell you about all the great food they are not eating).
At the assigned moment the throngs began pulsing toward the door. We made our way up to the room where the English department hangs out. My immediate supervisor was so busy orchestrating so many people that she didn't have time to give me direction. I had asked for a schedule in advance but she said we would figure it out later. It is very Georgian to change plans at the last minute or not to make a big fuss about preplanning; so there I sat for the first hour of the first day of the school year. Eventually, a school business person showed up with a ledger. That really got all the teachers buzzing. Because they work part time for hardly any pay, each of them wanted to make sure she (there are no male English teachers in the school) was being properly compensated for the number of classes she was assigned to teach. I don't blame them. I feel that I am back in the pre-computer age of the 60's, where everything is recorded in longhand---the schedules, the business ledger and attendance at school. The Georgian Education Ministry had promised computers in the school by the start of the school year, but it hasn't happened yet. I think their attention would better be directed toward getting heat of some sort in the school building first. There is no heat, and in the winter everyone wears their long underwear, coats and boots during an abbreviated school day.
Well back to the first day. Finally, the teachers started to feel sorry for me and asked what I would be doing. At about that time Nino came up for air and said, "Maybe you could talk to the classes about why you are here and what you will be doing. I will be right back." That gave me a leisurely 10 minutes to come up with a plan. Following that 10 minutes, I was escorted to a classroom with 35 5th year students. One girl actually had her little brother sitting in the seat with her. There I was, with my immediate supervisor in attendance, ill-prepared to dazzle them with information about the goals of Peace Corps. Fortunately, however, the creativity Gods smiled on me and my " Dog and Pony Show" was launched!
In Georgia, all students refer to their teacher as "Mast". That is short for mastavlabeli, which means "teacher" in Georgian. Imagine an atmosphere where every kid is beckoning you as "Mast". The thought seemed to me to be very impersonal. After all, I wasn't going to call them "student". To avoid the uncomfortable feeling associated with being called "Mast", I had asked the kids in my camp to call me "Miss Lisa" ( the counter to "Measter Mark"), and I decided to go with that in school as well. "Mrs. Lebowitz" seemed way too long, "Lisa" seemed too informal and "Mrs. Lisa" didn't have the proper ring to me. Maybe it is my way of feeling more youthful. Soon after adopting that name though, the teachers also started calling me "Miss Lisa", but fortunately I nipped that in the bud and have since encouraged them to call me just plain ole "Lisa".
In my introductory lesson, I used a world map and my cell phone as classroom "realia" and tried to elicit from the kids the reasons why a middleaged, retired teacher might want to say good bye to her family and friends and come to Georgia for 27 months.

1. So Americans can learn about Georgians.
2. So Georgians can learn about Americans.
3. To let the Georgian students work with a native English speaker.

After my presentation, the kids posed questions to me. The rules were simple: "You may ask me anything except how much I weigh." I had to whisper in the ears of many who were paralyzed by the thought of asking a question. Ask me, "Do you have a husband?". Ask me," Do you have a dog?". We then pulled our chairs in a circle and had a pretend conversation "at the cafe".The most interesting question by far was put forth by two girls in different classes. "What is your dream?". When you see how poor these kids are and feel the discouragement of their parents with life in general, it's uplifting know that the kids still have hope and dreams for a better future. Things are changing in Georgia, and these kids represent the future of this country. The question session was a lot of fun and when the bell rang before all the questions were answered the kids actually groaned, which made me happy. After hugs and kisses all around, the class was off to run and socialize in the hall. I felt happy that they were enthused. I know this initial enthusiasm will wear off, but nonetheless, I am excited about working with all the students who seem so excited to learn English. A number of the students found it very difficult to formulate a question in English, and surprisingly, their teachers were eager to pass them by, but I made a point of trying to get something from everyone. Eventually everyone asked a question, although the contribution of some may have been as little as two words out of a five word sentence.
Following the trauma of teaching my first class, I delivered 3 more classes and that was it for the day. I took a wilted but beautiful bouquet I was given by one of my co-English teachers and left. Mark's office is only 2 big blocks away. He had texted me during the morning to see how it was going, but at the time I was too busy to respond. After I left the school grounds I leaned against a tree and texted him back. We met under a big tree in the park for lunch. If you have been following our blog, this was the same day as Mark's legendary blisters so it is better said that he "hobbled over to the park". At any rate, he totally enjoyed the rendition of my first day at school, and he filled me in with what was happening at his office . That is our life here in Zugdidi. After lunch, Mark went back to his office, and I walked home in the blazing sun with my umbrella for heat protection as all the women do here. I got home at 4 pm, just in time to dive into my book, "Ahab's Wife", and escape. I am happy. I am finally doing what I came here to do.


Typical seventh form students














Hanging by the water fountain between classes. No such thing as a line in Georgia!













Typical chaos in the halls between classes.

Brothers on the way to school.

My director Nino (left) and some of the other English teachers.

Campers at my English camp during the two weeks before the school year began.

internet update......................

Lisa has been running an English camp for the past couple of weeks at the school where she will be teaching. She has two groups of approximately 20 kids each (older and younger) who come to the camp each day to play games, read books and sing songs, while speaking only English. The camp has been a big success, as evidenced by the fact that each day more kids show up than were there the day before. The mother of one of the boys in the camp somehow communicated to Lisa that her daughter had just returned from America (Ohio) where she had spent the past year as a foreign exchange student. On Sunday, Lisa and I were in town together on a family shopping trip to the bazaar (to buy more clothesline and clothespins), and who should we run into but the mother and daughter. The daughter speaks perfect English, and as a consequence, she immediately became my new best friend. It didn't take me long to enlist her services in my attempt to sort out my internet problems. She agreed to accompany me to the phone company guy to see what the real scoop is on getting DSL service at our home. We arranged to meet today and to visit his office together. Unfortunately, however, I mistakenly decided to wear my new shoes today. Although they are new shoes that I brought from home, I hadn't worn them until today. As I previously mentioned, it is close to 2 miles from our house to my office, and I generally walk back and forth (unless I am able to cajole a ride from some good samaritan). This morning I was about half way when I realized my new shoes were causing blisters on the heels of both of my feet. By the time I got to my office I was in major pain and was barely shuffling my feet as I walked. I would have taken my shoes off and walked barefoot if I didn't have such tender soles (Lisa calls them"baby feet"). As soon as I got to my office I took my shoes off, but when Gvantsa (the daughter) called I was forced to put them back on and shuffle off to meet her. The way I was forced to walk down the street was somewhat embarrassing, but I didn't want to miss the opportunity to get things straight with the phone company. We got there and pushed our way to the front of the crush of people hanging around, and I watched as Gvantsa engaged in an animated conversation with the telephone guy (actually it appears that there is more than one telephone guy, since we were dealing with someone other than the person that I had dealt with before). Soon a question came up that required a phone call to my host mother, and before I knew what was happening she had left her work and joined us in the telephone guy's office. Jumping to the end of the story, I am now told that we CAN get DSL service here. However, it is DSL service that is routed over the "2" exchange, rather than the standard DSL service routed over the "5" exchange (whatever that means). Apparently, only the "2" exchange is available where we live. It appears that "2" exchange DSL is vastly inferior to "5" exchange DSL, but it still is DSL and is supposedly better than dial-up. The down side is that it will be "a month or two" before it can be installed. Using the Georgian multiplier of 3 (used when estimating the actual time of an occurrence vs. the expressed time of the occurrence), it will be from 3 to 6 months before this actually happens (and even then the performance of this connection will be suspect). None-the-less, I am now pleased and satisfied that we have done all that we can do, and I am no longer distressed over the absence of internet access at our home.

P.S. In case you are wondering, one of my co-workers took pity on me and had her husband come to the office with his car and give me a ride home tonight.

Anzor and Nani................

Our immediate neighbors are Anzor and Nani. They live in a very large house next door. I say "very large house", but I mean it is a very large skeleton of a house. Their house, like many others in the neighborhood, is a large masonry structure, without almost any interior improvements (i.e. it is a block shell of a house). Anzor and Nani are at our house often, and they frequently eat with us. They are always bringing things over that come from Anzor's garden or which Nani has cooked. All our left-overs travel in the opposite direction to Anzor's pigs (who are especially fond of watermelon rinds). We have never been invited over to Anzor and Nani's house, and perhaps that is because it is very spartan in nature. From the looks of it, they have constructed perhaps two rooms within an immense masonry infrastructure. From the outside, the house has a very haunted house-like look to it. Anzor works at the local Coca-Cola company, but I'm not sure what it is that he does there. He is missing lots of teeth, but the ones he has are all gold in color. Nani works in the same government office as our host mother Eka, and in fact, she is Eka's boss. Nani frequently doesn't get home from work until 8 each night, and often it is dark by the time she gets here. Nonetheless, she always walks the approximately 2 mile long route home along our very dangerous road, because the 2 Lari cab ride (approx.$1.33) is a budget breaker. Anzor and Nani speak no English whatsoever (actually that's not true, Anzor likes to say "thank-you"). The first night we met our host family, they had organized a big Supra (a special Georgian dinner, with lots of food and drink) for us. Anzor and Nani were there and Anzor acted as the Tamada. At some point during the course of the evening we were asked where in New York we were from, and we told everyone we were from Glens Falls. Immediately, Anzor jumped to his feet and shouted "James Fenimore Cooper"!! Anzor is a big reader, and he was familiar with The Last of the Mohicans and Cooper's Cave. We were shocked. Who woulda thunk?? Although Anzor and Nani live a simple life and have little in the way of money, they are very well self-educated, and they have perpetuated that trait in their children. Their oldest daughter is a doctor in Tbilisi. She speaks perfect English and accompanied Eka and Nino to our swearing in ceremony in Tbilisi. Afterward, she came with us to the bus station and made sure that we all got safely off to Zugdidi from the big city. Their second child, also a daughter, left two days before we arrived to start college at Harvard in the US, where she is "on a full ride", and their third child, a son, has just accepted a high Federal governmental position in Tbilisi. Simple, yet very caring neighbors who quite obviously value education.

P.S. Coincidentally, Nani just knocked on our window and presented Lisa with a bouquet of flowers she picked from her garden.

Here is Anzor about to have breakfast at our kitchen table. He brought over a melon from his garden (look at the size of it!) and is preparing to eat a piece after first having a shot of his home made cha-cha (moonshine). Apparently, that's the way you eat melon here.

Anzor cutting his "lawn" with a scythe . It certainly beats our host sister's effort to cut our "lawn" with a pair of scissors.

Nani in our kitchen.

Nani and Anzor's house from the road.

telephone pole...........

This is a telephone pole on the way from the center of town to my house. Double click on it to get a good view. And I wonder why it is that I can't get an internet connection where I live???

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There is an area of Georgia that is famous for the wine which is made there (think the Georgian equivalent of the Napa Valley). It is located around Telavi, which is the nearest city of any size. Wine from this region is supposed to be very good and recently we noticed that there are places in Zugdidi where it is sold in BIG jugs. Yesterday, on her way home from school, Lisa stopped at a roadside stand and prepared to buy a jug for us to try. Fortunately, before the purchase was completed, she somehow realized that the stuff in the jugs that the guy was selling was not Telavi wine, but rather benzene. Guess we dodged a bullet there!! ************************************************************************ I couldn't resist posting this picture of Lisa, enjoying some wine in the yard with our host father Beso and a couple of his childhood friends, who also happen to be neighbors (the guy with the cigarette is a doctor). Notice that the wine glasses are full, as they always must be. You only drink wine when there is a toast and not casually inbetween toasts. Fortunately, the toasts are made frequently and generally the entire glass of wine is then drunk. You don't have to drink the entire glass, but most of the Georgians seem to do it that way. No matter how much you drink, however, the glass is always refilled to the top after the toast is completed, in preparation for the next one.

internet woes..................

Well, my level of frustration is running high at the moment. In Gori, we had the luxury of a DSL internet connection in the home of our host family. Even though it is outrageously expensive here by Georgian standards (about $64 US/mo), it is something that I wanted and was willing to pay for. About two weeks ago, I got my host mother to take time off from her job to take me to the "phone company" to make the necessary arrangements for a DSL connection. It was hot as hell that day. After going from one dingy office building to another and from office to office within each of them (each 4th floor walkups I might add), we finally located the indidvual who appeared to be in charge of such things. He said "no problem" and that the phone company would do what needed to be done within a week. In fact, someone from the phone company showed up at our house the very next day. They checked out the line and told my host father that we would need to get a new telephone wire (we don't have a landline phone now, but the family used to have one) and run it from the house to the telephone pole in the street. In the succeeding days my host father (who, by the way, is approximately 13 years younger than I am) went to the Bazaar and bought the specified kind of wire, and then, with the aid of some people that he hired to help him, took down the old wire and restrung 130 meters of new wire from the house to the pole. Then he drilled holes and ran the wire from the point where it reached the side of the house at the roofline down to our room. When I tried to pay him at least his out of pocket costs to do all of this he absolutely refused to accept anything (that made me feel bad because I know that money is not in abundant supply in this household). Then nothing happened for the next week and one-half. Finally, I asked my host mother if she would again inquire of the man in charge of the phone company as to what was to happen next. This is not the kind of thing that you call someone on the phone about here. You must present yourself at the office, wait in line (more about lines in Georgia in a future posting) and then speak to the guy directly. This actually required 3 additional visits to the office of the phone company over a period of three days, since the only guy who apparently runs the phone company was out of town on the first attempt and was at lunch on the second try. Yesterday, my host mother finally succeeded in talking with the guy. Shortly after her meeting she showed up at my office (another 4th floor walkup in an only slightly less dingy building) and delivered the good news to me through the only person in my office who speaks both Georgian and English (needless to say I lean on her language skills a great deal). Apparently, it has now been determined, for the first time, that the telephone infrastructure in this neighborhood is such that DSL is unavailable here. This is after the phone company guy told us "no problem" in our first meeting and after the phone company crew came to the house and directed the installation of a new line from the house to the pole in order to make the necessary DSL connection!!! Needless to say, I was not happy, and now, a day later, I'm still not happy. Part of the problem is my own inability to communicate directly with the people in charge of such things. I have to rely on my host mother to convey what I want to ask and/or say, and she really doesn't speak more than a few words of English, so it's difficult to communicate with her. I am not giving up yet. I will either get the English speaker in my office to accompany me to the phone company or ask one of the very few other people that I have met who speak English to go with me. We do have a DSL internet connection at my office, but in order to make use of it I must do so at someone else's desk, which is inconvenient for me and a pain for the guy whose computer I am using. Also, the time here is 8 hours ahead of the US, and direct communications to the US really can't be made during my work hours because everyone is in bed then at home. I will report on my success or failure with respect to my efforts to obtain internet access in a future posting. I just felt the need to vent my spleen at this point.