There's A Wocket In My Pocket

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 This would not have been an issue if some of the teachers had not already with withdrawn the money, spent it, and now the bank wanted it back.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.

Please Mr. Postman Look and See, Is There a Letter, A Letter For Me

I know there has been a lot of interest in sending me things in the mail to Georgia. I have also got quite a few requests for postcards, letters, and such. A few weeks ago I decided to send a card to Ukraine to a friend. How hard could it be to post something from here, right? 

First I asked one of my co-teachers if there was a post office in Lagodekhi (The closest big town to my village), you know to mail a letter? She looked at me like I had three heads and then asked, you want to send an e-mail? You can use the computer lab. I tried explaining over again a few times and she still had no idea what I was talking about. You see in Georgia, no one gets mail. There is no reason for them to get mail, no magazines, catalogs, credit cards offers. Chances are all of your family lives in the same village as you and no one ever really leaves Georgia, so why would you ever need to send anything? 

A few days after I asked my co-teacher about mailing things, I went with my other co-teacher to Lagodekhi to pick something up at one of the Teach and Learn with Georgia offices. We got there early so we had nothing to do for about a half hour. I asked this co-teacher if she knew where the post office was here. She also looked at me like I was crazy, I was starting to think that I was. I didn’t have the time to play games and make her guess what I was talking about, so I dialed up my regional representative and asked her to explain. After a minuet or two the point had come across to my teacher and she understood what I was trying to do. She question why I would even send something physical to a person in the first place if they had e-mail or Facebook. I tried to explain the joy that friends get with receiving letters and cards from me and the fact that when you mail something now a days it shows that you put some thought into things and that you care and are trying to go above and beyond to show that. Anyone can spend 20 seconds writing on your Facebook wall I miss you.

We trudged through the snow covered town, stopping to ask people along the way, just where the post office was. Some people had no idea, but finally we got to what we were told was the building with the post office in it. We walked into a big room with a massive wood counter and some tables. Everything was empty and no one looked to be around. My teacher suggested that we try upstairs. We climbed to the second floor and went into a random office and they told us that we did indeed have the right room and we went back down. 

When we went into the room again there was someone there this time. We explained that I needed to send my homemade card to Ukraine and were ushered into a smaller room that had a wood stove, desks, but still did not look like a post office. She pulled an envelope out of a random draw and I stuffed it in. I wrote my friends address on the front and then they instructed me to write my return address. This is where things got tricky. In Georgia, unless you are in a big city, people do not have actual addresses, everyone just knows where you live. My co-teacher and the post worker bantered back and forth about what I should write. At one point they wanted me to write my passport number on there. (What?!) I said I could just write my return address in the States on it, but this also would not do. It ended up coming out like this:

Emily

Tamariani Village

Lagodekhi

Georgia  

It was one of the moments I just think Oh Georgia. The post person hand wrote my receipt, stamped it and I handed over my 5.20GEL (a little over $3) to send one card off to Ukraine. When I left the post office with my co-teacher she told me that it would take two to three weeks for my card to get to Ukraine. She then said I don’t understand what you didn’t just send an E-mail. It’s so much faster. 

This Isn't Everything That You Are

*These pictures were taken on January 2nd, 2011 in Ukraine and the blog was written in late January in Georgia. The photos are meant more to evoke a feeling or mood rather then show information about my setting*

On January second I was suffering from a slight post holiday depression and woke up really, really angry. A feeling that I could not shake and might have been a slight carry over from the night before when I was over tired and all I want to do was enjoy my horrible hang over at home, but I was told to shower, because I kind of smelled. Brush my teeth, because my breath still reeked of alcohol from New Year’s Eve, and put on something other then a god damn, hoodie, jeans, and L.L. Bean slippers to show that I had some pride (Um hello, I was sporting Mainer pride clearly by my slippers) and go out to a going away party. I remember muttering that if I was in America I could have gone out like this. Yes I played the “if this was America” card with my roommate. He was right though. I was a horrible wreck that needed to be cleaned up to go to a going away party for a good friend, however that did not fix my mood.

The morning of the second I got up and showered before my roommate was up. By the time I was done he had woke and I stayed silent out of fear of an angry outburst. He could tell that I was upset, it was probably the way I was violently drying my hair with my head upside down so it would be done faster. I dressed in silence, cursing under my breath, when I realized that I had left my knit winter hat in Georgia, having only brought my fur Mad bomber hat. I was going to wear my hat so I didn’t have to do my hair, but now that was out of the question. My hair is currently divided into thirds. The two side parts are shaved completely and the midsection is left long. (I also have had it dyed this amazing bright orange- red color, that looks great with my complexion. The girls in the hair salon kept oooing, and awing over it after it was done, and I was like “Um you guys did it, but I guess I did pick out the awesome color.”) So with my hair being dried in such a way it kind of just fell everywhere and I ended up pulled it back into a high ponytail in frustration and was done with it. I threw on some clothes and packed my camera bag and started to put on my jacket.

My roommate finally asked what was wrong and in one rushed sentence in a slightly harsh tone I let out, “I just want to go out, get coffee to go, I would really like Starbucks right now, but that’s not going to happen, because I’m in Ukraine, take my to go coffee, get on a marshooka to who knows where, until I am in the middle of no where, take photos, and be completely alone, that is all I want right now.” He looked slightly startled and a little hurt. I said I was sorry and I knew that I had not been active enough in the passed few days and that can make me go a little crazy just sitting around. I promised that I would be better when I was done. 

He said it was ok and told me to have a good day, then the great coat debate begin. Something that pledged me the whole time I was in Ukraine. I brought 2 coats with me, a Gap moto jacket, that is mid weight and my heavy L.L. Bean Baxter State parker that I normally wear when it is around freezing. Everyone always wants me to wear the L.L. Bean one, because they think I am going to die from the cold and then I start throwing around my “I’m from Maine!” That day I explained that it wasn’t that cold out, I was going to wear my massive chunky cream wool scarf, it looks like a neck brace, and as soon as I got shooting I would warm up and start sweating if I worn the Bean’s coat. My roommate, smartly, knew not to fight with me. There was no point. We could either start a screaming match over a coat, that stubborn me would never give into or just let me freeze my ass off, if it really was that cold out and I couldn’t complain about it later.

I said goodbye and then booked it to the wannabe Starbucks. I went in and assessed the menu and confirmed that they indeed did not have “just coffee”. I asked for an Americano, in the largest paper cup that looked like a venti. The guy told me they don’t make it that big and pointed to a cup two sizes down that brought me to the size of about a tall. I muttered and said whatever and asked what kind of flavors they had to add to it, I went with the caramel trying to make it as much like as my Starbucks back home. I walked out of the coffee shop and took the first sip confirmed that it was indeed nothing like Starbucks. Epic fail. I jammed my headphones in and listened to Runaway by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

“I was feeling sad,

Can’t help looking back, 

Highways flew by, 

Run, runaway,

No sense of time.”

As I walked through the streets I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a car window and I thought I looked some what like a model, or at least very European, with my hair pulled back, my face freshly scrubbed with only tinted chap stick, my high Euro scarf/ neck-brace (they are all the rage over here right now. I seriously wished I bought the one in the other color now too), my coffee in hand, and this odd look, that said “I mean fucken business. Get the hell out of my way, I am more important then you.” It startled me, but made me smile to myself at the same time since I was in such a bad mood. 

When I got to the marshooka stop, I stood there drinking my coffee and watching the chaos ensue, as they had just changed all the bus routs with the start of the new year, for a good twenty minuets. Number 38 pulled up and I got on, with a sneaking suspicion I knew where it has headed.

We wined our way through Lviv, seeing parts I had never seen before. I saw some rundown industrial type buildings that would have done nicely shooting, but I just needed out of the city. It had become claustrophobic and suffocating. I needed air. The buildings thinned and I knew we were headed out by a store Metro, that happens to be the way marshooka 84A use to go. (Look at my previous blog, Simply Happy Again, May 2011) I knew I would be ok once I got there. This marshooka happened to go straight at the roundabout, unlike 84A that turned right.  

I saw a cemetery in the distance and got off as we pulled to a stop at the side of the road in a village. I took off at a determined pace, pretending not to notice the dogs that barked at me as I walked pass the houses that they guarded. I crossed a large road and walked through wetlands soaking my boots and up a hill to the cemetery. I walked threw it and thought of how its was in a nice location by farm land, rolling hills, and woods, but it could still not hold a candle to the main cemetery in Lviv. I slipped and slide through the muddy lanes casually looking over the graves, but after a while they all blurred together. No one I knew was there and my own was also missing, so I moved down a hill away from there, to a valley and then back up another hill that was farm land. At this point in time I put my headphones in and started to listen to Snow Patrol’s new CD Fallen Empires. Again it was another great music choice for the day. I have loved Snow Patrol for over half a decade now, and had only heard one song from this album, Call Out In The Dark, before today. I do believe in fate and such and I feel that someone, call them God if you will, knew that I needed to hear this. (Seriously, this album is amazing. I don’t care how you get your hands on it, but just do it.) I needed a day to think over my past four weeks away and how I felt about situations and issues that I was having. One song that kind of put some stuff in perspective for me was “This Isn’t Everything You Are”. It is a song about loosing someone you love and letting people help you to move on and see that this one moment in your life is not all you are about, there is more to you then one relationship. I remember standing in the middle a field so muddy it was hard to pick up my boots as I walked, and just closing my eyes, breathing deeply, and thinking “I can do this.” Whatever “this” was, was more of a general feeling of being able to deal with everything in my life at that at that exact moment, as a small panic about the fact that I had moved half way around the world for a year had set in and the changing of relationships in my life for the good or the worst.

I reached into my pocket to get my phone to text my roommate that I was fine, and I was half way through writing a message and my phone rang. It was him checking up on me. (I swear he just knows sometimes.) He asked if everything was ok and where I was, then he asked about my mood. I said I was ok and I could be better or worse. He said that he wanted me in a better mood and didn’t like to see me like this. I went into a philosophical Emily rant about how could I know what true happiness is if I didn’t experience an occasional bout of sadness and anger? I like to store emotions, tie them up to memories and recall them at later times to change or stable my mood. It’s a coping skill that I find works quite well, especially when a smell is involved. Think about your favorite food that your mother or grandmother use to cook when you were a child, do you relax and feel a warm fuzzy feeling inside as your gut reaction? I am betting yes. It works like that for me some what. 

I then explained to him that I was truly fine, I just needed more time where I currently was, inhaling the dirt into my nasal passages, seeing what my camera lens wanted to show me, and listening to the advice my iPod was spewing. He again knew that there was no fighting with me and told me to take care and be safe after finding out ruffly where I was incase I never came back.

I walked in the fields, much slower then I normally would, taking in everything in the over cast day. Letting the wind hit my cheeks without flinching at the cold. I stopped and looked at the forest, thinking if I should go in or not and decided that I was much happier out in the open. I walked and came across some dead sunflowers and took some pictures for my mother. I always associate these flowers with her. 

I was coming closer to the houses that were being built and I felt calmer and called my roommate and asked him if he wanted to meet me at the grocery store out by my fields to pick up some food for the apartment. He agreed to and I knew that I had about an hour or so until I had to meet him. I went to inspect the house a little closer, but I was loosing motivation in photographing anything else that day. I just wanted to spend the time alone to think. I also used the outhouse. (See the Awwww Shit blog)

I walked along a field that seemed to stretch on and on, now having switched over to listening to Eddie Vedder and the sound track from Into The Wild, an old stand by for when I am feeling lost. The song “Guaranteed” was a perfect close to my day, because let’s face it, I am living in a small village in Georgia, where I am prone to spend my days teaching, reading, writing, taking photos, going for walks and spending a lot of time deep in thought.

On bended knee is no way to be free
Lifting up an empty cup, I ask silently
All my destinations will accept the one that's me
So I can breathe...

Circles they grow and they swallow people whole
Half their lives they say goodnight to wives they'll never know
A mind full of questions, and a teacher in my soul
And so it goes...

Don't come closer or I'll have to go
Holding me like gravity are places that pull
If ever there was someone to keep me at home
It would be you...

Everyone I come across, in cages they bought
They think of me and my wandering, but I'm never what they thought
I've got my indignation, but I'm pure in all my thoughts
I'm alive...

Wind in my hair, I feel part of everywhere
Underneath my being is a road that disappeared
Late at night I hear the trees, they're singing with the dead
Overhead...

Leave it to me as I find a way to be
Consider me a satellite, forever orbiting
I knew all the rules, but the rules did not know me
Guaranteed

I Told You No Gifts!

On Ukrainian Christmas Eve morning I was impatiently waiting for my roommate to get back home from going out to get a gift bag for our host’s gift for the holiday. He had been gone for close the thirty minuets and I was starting to get really pissed. We were going to be be late and miss our bus if he didn’t come soon. I called to ask where he was and he said he would be back really, really soon. I had everything packed and I was just waiting on him. When he came home he yelled Merry Christmas with a huge shit eating grin on his face and thrust a Pull and Bear bag at me. I was shocked for a few seconds, as I had kind of forgotten what the day was, then I started stomping my feet and mutter about how I had said no Christmas presents for me. I sat down on my bed and pulled out a box wrapped in brown paper bags mixed with gift wrap and my friend apologized for it not looking pretty, but all the shops had been closed. I told him it was fine and in the States I wrap gifts with news paper. I was more concerned with the amount of what looked like packing tape that had been used and how I was going to open it. When I tore off the first piece of paper and saw a box for a new Cannon 75-300mm zoom lens. I might have started crying a bit, yeah I did, and I was over joyed to say the least. I also got a new 8GB memory card, which was a huge improvement over my 1GB.

(My arms are folded to show that I am mad for the gift giving, but seriously look at that face. Not mad one bit)

I thanked him and complained that it was too much, but he said no it wasn’t because I need it and deserve it. The whole walk to the bus stop I am pretty sure I was glowing I was so happy. He turned around and asked if everything was ok and my smart ass reply was something along the lines of “I’m horrible. I don’t know how I could possibly be happy right now. It’s not like I just got the most awesome Christmas present ever or anything.” The shit eating grin had now been transferred to me. The more I thought about it, the more impressed I became of how well thought out this gift was. It was probably the most perfect thing I could have ever been given and I didn’t even know that I had wanted it until I had gotten it. 

I have only been using my new lens for about a week now, as Ukrainian Christmas is on January 7th, but already I am ecstatic about my new toy. I have been going around Lviv using it to stalk people and photograph them. I feel like I am paparazzi or something. It is truly amazing the freedom I have been feeling with it. I feel like the possibilities are endless right now. I also truly do thank my friend, even though it was too much. I wonder what he will get from my birthday...