Just finished another busy, but awesome weekend/week. I finally started to actually teach classes this week, which was good. I’m working with so many classes and teachers that it’s taken me nearly three weeks to meet all of them. And I still have a few to go. Making a schedule and planning lessons with the teachers has been frustrating but is slowly starting to work out. If my timing is correct, I should have things worked out by…sometime next semester. But that seems to be the case for everyone else, so I’m in good company.
Anyways, most of my kids are great and very eager to have an American in class. Which hopefully means they’ll pay attention – I am not above using my novelty status to knock a little English into their brains. I’m finding out what they want to learn and what types of activities work best for each group, so I am optimistic. Classes are always exhausting, but fun. We’ve had discussions about chewing gum made out of Christmas trees (yes, I’m serious), khinkali, wrestling, and some of my students even danced for me. Which was awesome! I was doing a lesson where the students had to discuss their strengths and weaknesses. One of the guys said he did traditional Georgian dancing. I made an offhanded comment about how much I like their dancing and the next thing I know, they’ve moved all the desks to the back of the room, someone has out their phone with a folk song blaring on it, and two of my students are at the front of the class dancing. Okay, so we didn’t exactly practice English, but it was a lot of fun and it helped everyone relax (they are still nervous to speak in front of a native speaker).
On Friday afternoon, I decided to join some of the other Fulbrighters in crashing a Peace Corps party in Rustavi (a city outside Tbilisi)/celebrating one of our friend’s birthday. I hop a marshrutka and make my way to Tbilisi. After finding Chase – which was an entertaining experience in and of itself – we wait for the other Fulbrighters to join us. After an hour or so, we finally figure out that we are at completely different metro stations. We finally find each other and head off for Rustavi. An hour later, after getting shushed by an old Georgian lady and ending up in the middle of nowhere – we find our way to the center for a makeshift dinner of khachipuri (why with all the khachipuri?!? Why?!?) before heading off to the party. Which was…fun? Interesting? So, as it turns out, Peace Corps parties are essentially the expat community’s equivalent of a frat party. Still, everyone was very nice and it was fun.
After the party, we head back to Tbilisi for the night and early the next morning I head back to Gori for…grape harvesting! Our adopted “family” here in Georgia owns a house in a small village called Ateni outside Gori. Everyone in Georgia – and I mean everyone – makes their own wine. Apparently, it’s almost shameful not to do so. So they have this large plot of land complete with an orchard, nut trees, and grape vines. We spent all of Saturday harvesting the grapes and showing the Georgians that, yes, Americans can work. It was an absolute blast. I haven’t worked with my hands since coming to Georgia and all this brain work gets tiring. The day was beautiful – a little cool but sunny. The village is situated right along the mountains and the view from the top of the grapes vines is stunning. I’ve said it before, but Georgia really is one of the most beautiful places in the world.
With a full day’s work behind us, they prepared a mini-supra complete with wine from last year’s harvest. We went home, exhausted but happy and ready to start the “fun” part of the harvest on Sunday. That morning, we went back to the village and went hunting for walnuts and hazelnuts while they guys finished up the last of the picking. (How cool is it that we can just go outside and pick all these different wild fruits and nuts? I spent the entire day eating persimmons, apples, grapes, pears, and nuts right off the trees and vines. Go Georgia!). There is an old superstition that if a woman stomps the grapes the next year’s harvest will be poor. But, well, there are a lot of superstitions that center on how women ruin everything. Mostly made up, I assume, by all the men smoking on the street corners all day while the women are at work. Plus, this year’s crop was the best they’ve had in years, apparently, and our “brother’s” girlfriend did the stomping last year. Myth debunked.
Anyways, grape stomping is just like how you imagine it. You get a big tub with a small hole in the bottom, throw in the grapes, and start stomping. Then, the leftovers go through a press to get the last of the juice out (which is delicious fresh, by the way). The leftover skins and stems are used to make chacha – Georgia’s version of moonshine, pretty much – a potent liquor which I have made a point to avoid like the plague. But it natural, which means it’s good for you! (At least, that’s what everyone tells me. I still think I’ll stay away, thank you very much.)
We spent most of the day stomping the grapes, with Corrie and I taking turns. It’s a great way to get some exercise and do some healthy anger management while having fun. In the end, we filled up a barrel bigger than me with about a dozen liters left over. We some of the leftovers they made tatara – this dessert made of boiled grape juice. Sooo good. And really easy to make, too. Afterwards, we had another mini-supra with shashliki made over the fire. So, all-in-all, perhaps the best weekend so far in Georgia. Tomorrow, it’s back to work. This Thursday is an annual holiday so we are going on a road trip. And this weekend – off on a excursion to Kutaisi with the chitlins!
