There's Fruit In Them Thar Hills

The weeks have become rather formulaic, hence the real absence of updates (that and I'm lazy). This formula is not a bad thing mind you, it's just part of being a grown up I guess. Well, “grown up”. I guess “overgrown child” is more fitting for me. The days consist mostly of teaching and hanging out with the family, as well as sporadic incidents of me falling off of soviet-era farm equipment or slipping in piles of animal excrement. Corn season is over (thank the sweet, merciful, kernel god), and we've moved into bean season, so the nights often consist of me and the family sitting by the stove, shelling beans and watching a variety of imported or locally filmed shows, ranging from:

-Wipeout [Americans embarrassing themselves is a huge source of entertainment in this part of the world, let me tell you]

-Georgian dubbed tele novelas, which have some of the most gratuitous product placement in the world, (especially for pickup trucks and corn chips), second only to Georgian parliament sessions, where every politician has a clearly displayed bottle of Coke in front of them.

and my favorite personal favorite

-Georgian Dancing with the Stars, which is not dubbed American Dancing with the Stars mind you, but rather Dancing with the Stars with Georgian celebrities, [and a whole host of culturally offensive performances, including one routine performed to “In the Jungle” in blackface].

Along with beans and racism, clementines are also presently in season here in Georgia . They are tiny orange spheres of goodness and bounty amidst a diet consisting primarily of oily and/or fried things. I was actually feeling a little drained of vitamins in early November, when lo and behold, my family was like

“LOL, silly American, we have an entire orchard of citrus fruit!”

I was obviously like

“SWEET JESUS WHERE, YOU CRAZY MOUNTAIN PEOPLE!?!”

Their answer: up on the tippity tip tip top of that gigantic hill (see: mountain) behind our house (see: trololol) Georgians invented trolling, I'm not even kidding you. Well if gravity and a 65 degree incline thought they were going to keep me from oranges, they had another thing coming. I hiked (see: scrambled, with much slipping, falling, swearing, and clawing at vegetation) my way up that hill and consumed twice my body weight in fruit. And life was good. Getting down that hill however was quite bad.

Meanwhile, travels around parts of Georgia that are not in my village have been lacking as of late. I've been nursing a four week cold thanks to my gremlins and their sticky, sticky hands.

“TEACHER TEACHER TEACHER HERE IS MY HOMEWORK I DIDN'T ACTUALLY WRITE ANYTHING ON IT BUT I DID SNEEZE ON IT AND HERE IS SOMETHING THAT WAS IN MY MOUTH LET ME PUT IT IN YOUR MOUTH WE'RE BEST FRIENDS NOW *cough cough cough*!!!!”

I swear, children really are little petri dishes.

I did however make it to Armenia a few weeks ago (with nary a Kardashian in sight), and it was absolutely stunning. The capital city of Yerevan is a magical place, deserving of water color paintings, poetry, and many a spontaneous musical montage (a la Disney films).

First day in the city: classically trained orchestral concert

Second day in the city: churches, mosques, art galleries, and a breathtaking view of Mount Ararat.

Third day: tour of two UNESCO World Heritage sites.

BOOM. Culture.

Add to that the fact that the Armenians are soft spoken, generous people, and add again that their language sounds like birdsong and you have a magical weekend.

Upon our reentry into Georgia, we were greeted by packs of loitering men arguing with one another in Kartuli. *facepalm*

WELCOME HOME LOL!!!