On the last day of January I was very excited when my texts from the bank came saying that I had been paid. I am sure my co-teachers were just as excited when they were informed that they had also been paid. The teachers I work with make about $100 a month, yes that is not a typo I meant to write $100 a month. There was one small issue, some of the teachers at my school had been over paid by about $50, from what I gather. I know that may not seem like a lot, but think of what you make a month (unless you are a bum, that doesn’t have a job) and imagine half of that is in your bank account randomly.
The teachers got paid on February 1st, and by the 2nd someone had realized that the teachers had been over paid. This would not have been an issue if some of the teachers had not already with withdrawn the money, spent it, and now the bank wanted it back. Most people in this country live on very little money, so coming up with this extra $50 that was already spent on things that were necessary to live, naturally caused panic and a few pissed off teachers. I do not blame the teachers at all for being upset. Whoever was in charge of their pay should have known better then to make this mistake, granted I don’t know the whole story, but this is also Georgia so issues like this always seem come up in one form or another. It would be like the average American being asked to come up with between $500-$1,000 oh a day’s notice.
My English co-teacher was one of the teachers who had to go to the bank and deal with the money matters, along with her sister who teacher history at my school. She asked me if I wanted to go to Lagodekhi (the nearest town which is about 15 or 20 minuets by car) that afternoon after school with her, her husband, daughter, and sister. I am course always up for a trip into town, even if it did mean just going to the bank.
After my lessons for the day ended I went home to drop my school bag off and grab my camera. When I came back to school some of the students in fifth form where out playing in the snow. I think it was gym for them. I stood there for a bit taking photos. I then went up and collected my teachers and we made our way through the snowball fights to my co-teacher’s car. Her daughter was super excited to meet me, which naturally meant when I got in the car and said hello she was shy and would not look at me. Fare enough, I’m a big scary American. I understand.
We drove into town and I was told that if might take a while at the bank so I could go off on my own if I wanted to. I spent my time walking into random markets and ended up buying some clementines and pastries. It had snowed earlier in the day, so walking on the street was very much a game of slipping and sliding over the slightly hilly town. I made my way back to the car and we pilled in and went off to get some food.
We went to three different restaurants and they were all busy and had about an hour wait and we wanted food then. In the mean time someone had called family that lived in the town and they said that they would be more then happy to have us. I was slightly hesitant, because all I could think was, Oh god I am in for another supra, I don’t know if I can handle this. I also have that fear of meeting new people.
We were greeted by a lovely older woman, two young girls, and a male that was most likely in his thirties. They got to work cooking khinkali, meat filled dumpling like things. Other food was brought out as well and my co-teacher is a vegetarian so I was pleased to see a healthy representation of fruit and vegetables.
When everything was being prepared some of us went upstairs to get the traditional drinking horns. They were quite impressive, especially when put on someone’s head so they look like a creature out of a Dr. Seuss book. The sun had also come out and made everything look like a winter wonder land.
Eventually we did get on to eating after being hungry all afternoon. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that my co-teachers had a rather liberal attitude toward female drinking (perhaps it was those few years they had spent living in Ukraine when they were young?) and I was offered vodka and wine. I stuck to the wine and I can’t not even begin to guess at how many glasses I drank, it was also almost two weeks ago now. We toasted to everything; God, family, dead loved ones, American and Georgia, children (I dedicated that toast to my students), and I think there was even a toast to me being the most amazing American ever or something along those lines.
During all that drinking, there was just as much eating going on and I almost died. I sprinkled some pepper on some of my khinkali and you see when you are eating these you have to bite in and suck out the juice at the same time. I accidentally inhaled some of the pepper that was still dry and had a small coughing fit as everyone watched. I tried to assure them that I was fine, which worked well until about three seconds later when I took another bite and inhaled even more pepper and started coughing even more. I also had gotten some in my right eye, so it started watering uncontrollable. I was so embarrassed and was ushered into another room to die in peace, or get the pepper out of my eye and lungs. You pick.
When I came back no one laughed too hard and we continued to eat and drink some more. I banned myself from pepper. Drinking horns were brought out. These bad boys were wooden and could hold about two glasses. The men wanted to see the American try to attempt this and I knew that sooner or later in my year here I would have to give these a go and then seemed like as good as time or any. I knew my co-teacher’s family would not make fun of me too much for failing, that is if I did fail. The men went first and then I had my turn. I didn’t drink it all in one chug, but I got it down and felt like I had accomplished something in my life. (Got to love thinking you rule the world when you are drunk.) I then ate some more pepper free food to off set all the wine.
We soon wrapped up our small supra, which as much as I enjoyed it, at that point in time I knew I was going to enjoy getting home to my bed just as much. Before we got back into the car they made sure that they got one parting photo with me, which I honestly think is amazing. Looking at it, reminds me of Christmas card pictures with my brothers, if both my brothers were older then me and more Georgian. Looking at it almost even makes me miss my American brothers and Maine... almost.
No comments:
Post a Comment