A Less-than-Normal Weekend in Tbilisi

I had an interesting last couple of days.  I managed to make it to Tbilisi by taking the 8:00 AM marshutka out of Ch'ik'aani (it arrives in Tbilisi at 10:00), which came 15 minutes early.  Luckily, my host father saw it coming (whether he just happened to see it or was watching for it, I don't know), because if he didn't, I would have walked out about five minutes later and have never seen it.

I started to feel a tad ill again (I had been feeling ill off-and-on for about a week and a half at this point), but as I was already in Tbilisi, I didn't see that it made much sense to fret about it.  So I called my new friend Giorgi (whom I met at Mama Davit's supra mentioned in my Oct. 24 blog entry), and in the afternoon he came and took me (along with his very pregnant wife Nino, and thus, their soon-to-be-born son Nik'alai or Nik'olai (it may actually be the normal Georgian Nik'alozi after Saint Nicholas, but I could have sworn I heard Giorgi say Nik'alai, and I know he's named after the saint--a variant spelling in Georgian?)) to his church, Bet'lemi.  It is dedicated to Christ's Nativity, and as the name implies, it is modeled on the church at the spot of Christ's birth in Bethlehem.  It even has a re-creation of the spot where, in the original church, Christ was born, complete with the seven lampadas and the silver star over the hole in the marble to the ground--people familiar with the original church should know what I'm talking about.  It was large, fully frescoed, and gorgeous.  In the arches were the feasts of the Church, the Last Judgement, the Ancient of Days, and so forth.  Of course, the Virgin with Child was in the apse and the Pantocrator (with thrones, cherubim, seraphim, and the ring of OT prophets) was in the dome.  And regardless of the impozing size and beauty of Sameba, this beautiful, fully-frescoed church, all told, is perhaps the most beautiful I have ever been in.

Saturday vigil started soon after we got there, and this fairly large church became very well packed.  It was Vespers and Matins followed by Hours--and I can say, they were some of the longest Vespers and Matins I have participated in (outside special feast days and Holy Week, etc.)--though you should temper that statement with the conditions of me understanding little of what was said and feeling very weak and bad from the illness (which had been worsening over the course of the day).  The priest seemed cool.  It was interesting to watch him cense.  First of all, in censing the higher frescoes, he swung the censer so high above his head I thought the ashes were going to fall out.  Second of all, he used more incense that I had ever seen a priest use before.  After censing the iconostasis and before moving on to the rest of the church he had an altar boy add more incense--which was amazing to me because the incense already in the censer was simply billowing into his face as he did so.  The priest would also stop a few more times as he censed to have more added.  The church, which was a bit hazy from incense before the services started, became wonderfully thick with it as the services continued.

Anyway, I only wish I hadn't been so sick, so I could have better appreciated the service.  At this point, I was already considering going to the hospital (having been sick off-and-on for so long, as I mentioned, I began to figure this was not normal adjustment or slight illness), but I decided to wait it out a bit more first.  So, we went to the bank and then back to Giorgi's house for some food.  Unfortunately, my fever returned in the evening, so I decided to call the insurance company.  It turns out that, even though Giorgi and his wife wanted to take me, and even though his wife is a doctor (which proved very useful, especially since she spoke quite good English) and suggested I go to the hospital, according to my policy, they are always required to send an ambulance and have the EMTs evaluate my condition before taking me.

Long story short, we made it to the hospital.  it was less modern that I would have expected from the capital city (and much smaller than I expected, though that could be because of how they break up the hospital buildings into different specialities and diagnoses), but clean.  The only thing I found less hygienic than I would have liked was the bathroom:  you had to bring your own toilet paper, and the used toilet paper went in the trash, not the toilet.  I've seen this other places, too, but only in very remote places out in the village or country.  I mean, come on--a hospital should be more hygienic, and I would think that in Tbilisi you could get a modern bathroom (like those I've seen all over other places in the city).  Unfortunately, the Georgians in the hospital worry no less than those outside it, and they made me wait for hours while they pumped 1500mL or 2000mL of a "ringer's injection" (i.e., fluid to replace that which I had lost in my illness) into me, while I simply needed to (and because of this, could not) sleep.  The heart of Georgian worrying is in the right place, generally, but sometimes the effect is quite counter-productive to the intent.  I really just went to the hospital to get some lab-work done, to see why I've been sick off-and-on for so long.  I can rehydrate myself anywhere.

Anyway, they let me out on Sunday (though they would have rather kept me longer), but nowhere near early enough to go to morning services.  It's okay, I suppose--I had enough time to read three more chapters of my Genesis book (i.e., Genesis, Creation and Early Man by Heiromonk Seraphim of Platina--the chapters are generally not particularly short).  I picked up a few things in town and had time to go to Giorgi's for a quick bite before getting on the marshutka back home.

So, as my title suggested, I had a less-than-normal weekend--but, though I didn't get everything done that I wanted to, I got everything I needed to done, and now I will know if I need any medicine or if my feeling better today will last, and it was just an odd string of sicknesses.  [As I am posting this on November 10th, while I originally handwrote it on October 31, I can happily say that, as it turns out, the latter was true, and I really was better.]  So, all-in-all, I guess it was a fruitful weekend.

In Christ,

Teopile/Theophilos Porter

Getting Sick in Georgia (And Playing Scrabble with Non-Native Speakers)

Well, I got a bit sick in the last couple days (it's bound to happen eventually when you enter a new country), and I can say from the experience that Georgians worry far too much.  The first thing Georgians will say if you tell them you're sick is "rat'om?" ("Why?"), which, unlike in English, means "What hurts?" or "What's wrong?"  Upon any explanations (regardless of how minor your illness may be), your host family will likely get medicine and want to take you immediately to the doctor--and may not understand why you may not be so worried as to do this.  Then they will probably want to bring you certain foods or juices (not that I doubt that some of these do legitimately help), and probably also what the Georgians seem to think is a cure-all--Borjomi, a natural mineral water (which they subsequently carbonate) bottled in Georgia.  They will bring this to you while putting your feet in hot water and (if one of your symptoms is a headache) possibly tying a bandana around your head (I'm not fully sure on the why of this one--it made my head hurt more).  It's a very odd (and sometimes more than a bit trying) method compared to the drink-your-fluids-and-go-get-some-sleep method I'm used to.  Calling TLG to them them you are sick and can't go to school results in the same:  "I will call the insurance company to get your doctor's information.  When should I tell him you're coming?"  Their philosophy is "Why wait when you can see the doctor and get medicine now?"; my philosophy is generally not to take medicine, and certainly not to bother going to the hospital, unless I really need it.  A slight clash in thinking, methinks.

Well, there's not a ton to report otherwise.  I introduced Scrabble to my host sister, who seemed to really enjoy it, though it was difficult for her.  She might know certain words she has available easily, but forming them on-the-spot with random letters was more difficult.  This being the case, when she found a spot to go on her own, without any of my help, she would often jump out of her chair, arms raised triumphantly.  It was also pretty hilarious when (especially in the beginning of the game) she tried to add her letters before and after each word on the board in the hopes that from my word "pig," "tpig" or "pigq" might mean something in English.  I think in the end I won something like 330 to 120, but it didn't pahse her much.  I'm sure we will be continuing to play it relatively often.

The only other thing is that I probably will be going to Tbilisi this weekend to go to the bank and the store and so forth; and, with any luck, to Sunday Liturgy at Sameba (where the patriarch serves and a glorious cathedral in and of itself).  Until then,

In Christ,

Teopile/Theophilos Porter

Metropolitans, Monasteries, English, and a Supra

I can't follow my own advice, it seems:  another week has already flown by, and I find myself without blog entries.  Hopefully, this doesn't become too much of a norm.  Also, hopefully I will soon be up to date on posting these entries--right now, I've posted two online.  I tried to put a third up, but as one of my fellow school faculty members said today of the internet at school, "modis, midis" ("it comes, it goes").

As I mentioned would happen, on Tuesday Mama Davit took me to see the metropolitan.  What I didn't know is that we were getting up at 6:30 for a reason--our priest also serves as the priest to a relatively nearby women's monastery on Tuesday mornings (if not on other days as well) before going to teach a few classes at the seminary in Gremi.  The monastery is beautiful and relatively small--around eight monks (or nuns, as they are commonly called in the West) and novices in total.  Their choir is really, really good.  It was a truly gorgeous service.  After that, we went to the seminary at Gremi, which was an ancient town, but is now the the site of this small seminary, a small museum, an old church, and a small castle, which was the king of K'akheti's residence of old.  On a clear day, you can see about 80% of K'akheti from the top of this castle--a considerable area.

Anyway, I was able to meet the metropolitan, and together with a couple other priests and an English teacher from the nearby 1-12th grade school (where, I believe, Mama Davit also teaches) for translation, we had a nice chat in an outdoor clearing.  As some of the seminarians had a break in classes, the metropolitan took them, the few resident monks at the seminary, and me to the monastery of Nek'resi.  It's up in the mountains (way up in the mountains) and, if you can see 80% of K'akheti from Gremi, you must be able to see clear into Kartli from Nek'resi on a clear day.  It was great--they have a couple nice, small churches (i.e., a small main church and a tiny chapel), a small museum, and the room (I forget the technical name) where they house the excavated bones of righteous monks who lived there (this is a common practice in older Orthodox monasteries, and is a testament to the holy history of the monastery)--which I was able to venerate.  Sadly, because of the seminary schedule, we soon had to go back to the seminary so they could finish their classes.  Mama Davit said that if the metropolitan agrees, I can teach English at the seminary on Tuesdays.  While that would be great, I do have mixed thoughts about his complete confidence that they will be able to convince my school and the whole TLG program (i.e., the Georgian government) to amend my contract and allow this (as I do normally have three classes to teach on Wednesdays).

Anyway, after the seminary got out for the day, we went to the main church (the old one I mentioned above) before heading back to town.  It was beautiful.  The entire inside was frescoed centuries ago with saints, many of whom I knew, along with a few Georgian saints who were new to me, and with a Theotokos-with-child aspe and a Pantorcrator dome (yes, I realize these terms mean very little to most non-Orthodox;they are easy to look up if you are truly interested).  I had never before been in a church fully frescoed like that, and it was truly beautiful.

They changed the schedule at school to where this is no longer true, but on Wednesdays I didn't use to have any morning classes, so I was actually able to go to the parish's festal liturgy the following fay for their patron, Ts'minda Toma (St. Thomas the Apostle) and still go to my classes in the afternoon.  Thursday and Friday were fairly uneventful, but on Saturday, some of the other teachers (that is, from my school, not other TLG volunteers) and I went on an excursion (here's the standard word Georgians will use whenever you go anywhere--probably because of its closeness to the Georgian word of equivalent meaning--though probably slightly different usage--eksk'ursia) to a few different churches and monasteries in and near Mtskheta.  First we went to Jvari Monastery (The Monastery of the Holy Cross, "Jvari" meaning "Cross"), a small monastery overlooking the joining of the two rivers on the border of Mtskheta.  It has an octagonal base and a giant cross in the middle of the church.  In fact, this cross was erected by Ts'minda Nino and King Mirian, and the actual encompassing church was a later addition.  At the moment, it has only one monk and five novices, if my information is correct.  Next we went to Shiomghvime, a large monastery of about 25 monks.  It is also up in the mountains, and is nestled to where two or three sides of the monastery complex are surrounded by what appears to be a mesa rather than a mountain.  I say this only judging by its great similarity in appearance to the mesas surrounding Archangel Michael's Skete in New Mexico, where I spent a month earlier this year--but as I have not been to the top of the one at Shiomghvime, I could easily be wrong.  Unlike the few caves in the mesas near this skete in New Mexico, which were made of a sort of sandstone and thus relatively uninhabitable, the caves at Shiomghvime are, apparently, habitable, as in the past they have housed all of the monks of the monastery.  The church itself was large and beautiful.  It was fully frescoed, like Gremi, but was more newly done, and in a more Western style which I cannot say I was particularly enthralled with.  The iconostasis and icons in the altar, however, were in traditional Georgian style and very beautiful.  Before we left, a monk who spoke a little English took me to the well (currently in a state of restoration) in which Ts'minda Shio (One of the Assyrian Fathers) spent his last years and was buried.  An absolutely wonderful place.  After this, we went to Svet'itskhoveli and the small Ts'minda Nino's convent in Mtskheta (which I had already been to the previous Saturday on my excursion with Mama Davit and company) before going to a restaurant for a supra of food (and wine, of course) both brought and bought.  After the singing, dancing (Georgian dance is so awesome!), eating, and drinking all subsided (and our waitress came to tell us, I assume, that they were closing soon), we headed back home.

After Church on Sunday, Mama told me to come back to his house at 2:00 for something involving the metropolitan.  All I can say is, this "something" was the largest supra I've been to yet.  It was over fifty people, and took up two rooms in Mama Davit's house.  The room I was in had the metropolitan, a couple priests, the monks from the convent Mama Davit serves, the seminarians and monks from Gremi, and myself and three other laymen.  The other room was full of other laymen, mostly from right here in Ch'ik'aani.  On each table was literally a pile of plates and glasses from head to foot--to get to most of the food, you had to pick up a couple overlapping plates full of food which were placed, by necessity, directly on top of the former; my glass was buried under a plate, and in the first fifteen minutes or so after I arrived (so about the first half-hour after it started), they kept bringing out more plates, platters, and full pots of food--and so the piles got higher.  After about an hour, the metropolitan (and monastic entourage) had to leave, but that just meant the supra went from two rooms to one.  I'll just say this:  you know it's a supra when you get there at two and leave around eight, with no real break in the meal.

Well, that's been the week.  All I can say of interest about today is that they changed the schedule (so that I can teach in all the I-VI classes; before some were being taught at the same time), and that today is the first day I've actually been able to sit down and plan lessons with my co-teachers, which I think will be very helpful for especially the younger and older grades.  I-IV are all in their first year learning English (the government just this year expanded the curriculum to include English in every grade), so it's very easy to teach on-the-spot; letters and basic words aren't particularly hard.  Having a few basic games prepared for them with the co-teacher, however, should keep the larger and younger classes better contained in terms of attention and noise (I have a few classes at more than twenty students, and a few under ten, so there's real variance in this aspect).  Sixth grade is the one for which it will be especially helpful to have prepared:  though it's only their second year (at least, as I understand it), they're already in the third-year book, and reading, translating, and commenting on longer dialogues and short stories.  I'm mostly glad just to have this chance for better communication with my co-teachers.

Next weekend, I hope to go to Tbilisi to buy a few things, do a little banking (we get paid by the 30th of Every month), and hopefully attend Sunday morning services at Sameba (meaning "Trinity," this is what the Georgians generally call Holy Trinity Cathedral in Tbilisi, the giant one where the Patriarch serves, and which I mentioned having gone to in my first or second blog entry)--we'll see if this little excursion actually happens or not.  Hopefully, to avoid such a long blog entry next week, I will blog a little again before then.

In Christ,

Teopile/Theophilos Porter

Ow...Writing Cramps

Well, it doesn't fell like it, but a week has already flown by since I wrote last.  Since then, I've had a week of school, and it went quite well.  I have three co-teachers, who each speak English reasonably well, but who each have their own hindrances in communicating with me.  If I speak a tad slowly, however, the full meaning almost always gets across.  It was very interesting seeing how heir teaching styles differed, and how teaching methods change from the extremes of first grade to twelfth.  We're just beginning to settle into varying levels of real co-teaching instead of having one teach and one stand around aimlessly, and I'm sure things will settle in nicely.  We also just got our teacher's books (or most of them), so soon we can actually start planning our lessons, instead of figuring out what to teach on-the-fly in class by looking at a student's book.  Luckily, it's not hard to arrange a class on the spot to teach first graders and such a couple new letters and a few new words--the higher the grade, however, the more difficult this becomes.

Last Wednesday (I think), my school principal Eva, two of my co-teachers (Lela B. and Lela D.; the third co-teacher is Tea), and I went to our orientation meeting in Telavi, a city about 45 minutes' drive from Ch'ik'aani.  Within about an hour's drive West of myself there are three other TLG volunteers, each of whom was there as well.  It was nice to speak English with other people completely fluent.  The meeting was about (a) the paperwork we have to do while we're here (luckily, it doesn't seem to be too horribly much, assuming we don't lose electricity at inopportune moments) and (b) co-teaching and class preparations.  I think this helped open the door of communication between my co-teachers and me as to lesson planning and the like, so I'm appreciative.  After that, we went out for some Georgian pizza (I specified a no-mayonnaise variety, so we ended up with a chicken pizza that was different, but very good), khachap'uri (of two very different varieties), and some q'ava (coffee).  We went home quite satisfied with a day well spent.

Friday there was no school because of the national holiday for the commemoration (Old Calendar, for you Orthodox out there) of the miracles wrought by our Saviour's Coat in Georgia and of the subsequent miracle of the seventh pillar in the church which still houses our Saviour's Coat, Svet'itskhoveli, in Mtskheta (this is the church I mentioned having gone to in my Oct. 10th blog, "The Glory of God in Georgia").  On Saturday, I went to Church at 3PM.  I think it was Vespers and Matins, but I could be wrong about the Vespers part.  I'm now a fully-fledged member of the choir.  They gave me the handwritten book for the choir's usage in the services on Saturday and Sunday.  Since I brought my service book (horologion), I'll be able to translate as well as transliterate the service.  This way, I can sing/read at the speed I need to (I can't read Georgian letters as fast as a native speaker, obviously) as well as being able to tell, at a glance, what we are singing in the service.  I'm looking forward to its eventual completion.  After Church, Mama Davit (Fr. Davit), a couple other parishioners (and informally, readers in the church) by the names of Ia and Diana, and I went to Mama Davit's house for some khink'ali and a chat.  Luckily, these two women speak very good English (some of the best I've encountered in Georgia so far).  I can speak to Ia at pretty much my regular talking speed, and she even knows some more obscure words, like "quirk," and things like that).

Everyone I meet seems to want to know at least a little English.  The biggest challenges are grammar (especially regarding verbs), forgetfulness of articles (an, the, etc.)--as Georgian doesn't use them (luckily, meaning is usually retained without them)--and, of course, pronunciation.  Georgians have trouble with "v" (which is weird, since they have this sound in their language--though depending on the person, I've heard it pronounced less or more like an English "v" than like and English "w"), "th" (especially the light pronunciation at the ends of words like "fourth" and "with"), and a lot of the vowels.  They have "a" as in "father," "i" as in "eel," "o" as in "low" or "no" (but without the light "oo" sound that we subconsciously add in English), "e" as in "led," and "u" as in "who."  Five nice, clean, straightforward, pure vowels.  Trying to get a good pronunciation of words like "view" or "of" (did I mention they don't have "f" or "w" in Georgian, either?) can be quite exasperating--or entertaining, depending on your mood.

Anyway, Sunday came and went, with another beautiful service and another large meal at Mama Davit's after it.  As this small supra was in the morning, I knew that I had a little more breathing room as to drink, so I will admit that I spent much of the afternoon working off the buzz from all the toasts.  I generally don't drink much, and do not like to get drunk--however, when the toasts are to departed family members, to God, and so forth, then if you can, you have to drink at least a little.  Then there are the certain toasts they tell you you should drink all the way down out of respect--it's definitely a balancing act, respecting the toasts and respecting how much alcohol you can reasonably allow yourself considering your later obligations and your limitations.  In Georgia, when in doubt, don't be too afraid to say "no."  Not only did we drink out of the normal small glasses and highballs (competitive Georgians will test each others' tolerance by downing these repeatedly), but also small bowls, which I thought was interesting, if a bit odd.  I have also now twice done the interlocked-arms drink with the priest here (the one normally seen in weddings in America, which here in the Georgia is for good friends, and is followed by three kisses on the cheeks).  Luckily, the ox-horn glasses didn't come out this time.

Yay!  The electricity's back again:  I was working by candle-light for a bit there (I have been hand-writing these first so far, because of my limited access to the internet), as, since the thunderstorm last night (ah, how the rain reminded me of home!), the electricity's been on-and-off.  Wow, was that a stream-of-consciousness sentence.  Anyway...

I guess the only other things of great importance would be a successful grape harvest earlier this week (and the supra which followed, at which the drinking horns did come out, though I was luckily not asked to drink from them) and a few of the upcoming excitements for me.  Firstly the harvest--this is something they take seriously here.  Each family ends up with quite a few large (i.e., 50-gallon) drums full of grapes.  On the way to Telavi earlier this week, I saw dump-trucks (and a lot of them) simply full to the brim of loose grapes.  We've already made the churchkhela (hazelnuts or walnuts strung together then coated in a grape juice-and-flour substance and left in the air to harden and called by Georgians "Georgian Snickers," despite the obviously complete difference--but mmm!), and I'd assume the actual wine-making begins relatively soon.

Tomorrow (at 6:30 AM--ugh), the priest is taking me to meet the metropolitan (for the non-Orthodox, this refers to either a bishop of a somewhat larger area than an average bishop or a bishop that oversees other bishops in smaller eparchs), Sergi.  I think we're going fishing some time tomorrow, and I may be giving an English lesson in some sort of school gymnasium--communication can be difficult sometimes, so I'm not at all clear on the details.  I figure I'll just go with the flow; it's worked for me so far here.  The following day is the church's feast day (i.e., that of the Apostle Thomas), so there will probably be a lot of people gone to the morning liturgy.  It probably wouldn't be a good idea for me to miss two days of school in a row, though, so I'll have to do without.

Long story short (if that can still be used to apply to this blog entry), all's well with me here in Georgia.  Sorry for my verbosity--I guess that's what happens when you go a week without writing anything.  Word to the wise for any new bloggers coming to Georgia:  if you have a tendency toward wordiness, to avioud serious hand cramps, don't go a week without writing.  :)

In Christ,

Teopile/Theophilos Porter

The Art and Rules of the Supra

I have begun to understand and have explained to me some of the finer points of the Georgian feast known as the supra.

Firstly, for the newcomers, there will be more food and wine than the group could possibly consume.  Secondly, I must say, the Georgians seem to want to try to anyway, and will try to get you to as well.  The first time you say you can't eat any more, they'll probably fill or half-fill your plate again--after that, they'll probably begin to believe you if you tell them again.

The wine is also a large deciding factor.  Because of how much Georgians always try to feed you, it may sometimes be hard to tell if you're in a supra or not.  I would say that if there are about 15 or more toasts, it's probably a supra.  Otherwise, them drinking a lot of wine by American standards isn't necessarily much of an indication.

Georgian toasts aren't short, willy-nilly snippets:  they tend to almost all be to holy things and places, to people present, to other family members and friends, and to reposed family members.  These can also be quite long; sometimes they are only a few short sentences, but often they last for minutes on end, and can then be picked up by others for minutes on end each.  I remember at one supra having explained to me what was being toasted; people continued talking and making toasts, and about fifteen minutes later, I asked what someone was toasting--turns out, it was one of many continuations of the same toast.  Anyway, only after these truly heartfelt toasts might you start getting toasts to things like summer or mountains or so forth.  Now for the rules of the toast:  first off, it's never with beer or water or juice, or anything like that, but with wine and liquors (although almost always it seems to be wine, and, thankfully, it's more normal to always sip the liquors).  When refilling glasses, it is traditionally a rule to fill every glass completely every time regardless of how drunk the person may or may not be.  But, while Georgians may down their glasses a great many times (whether these glasses be very small or highballs) to these toasts, it is not inherently offensive to drink at every other toast, or to just drink part of the glass.  However, it is generally the best to down the first toast, any toast made to you, any toasts you make (though this one can be less necessary, depending on context), and the last toast (if you are able), as the last toast is traditionally reserved for God or at least for the Theotokos.  The one making the toast (the tamada) will start speaking, and often go on for a couple of minutes before clinking glasses with everyone he can (and sometimes this glass-slinking happens multiple times before he might actually finish his toast).  At this point, let him drink first.  The toast-maker drinks first, then anyone to whom he deferred the toast (as in, to expand upon it), then everyone else.  I accidentally drank first once after having a toast deferred to me and almost incurred the traditional penalty of having to immediately down another glass of wine.  By following these rules, you can respect the importance of the toasts while respecting your host family by not getting completely drunk.

Anyway, have fun, you newbies to the Georgian supra.  If you know how to respectfully not explode from food or drink, it's an extremely wonderful occasion.  (And even if you don't, it will probably be great--though the next morning may not be.)  My last bit of advice:  try to avoid drinking out of the giant ox-, sheep-, or goat-horns as much as possible.  ;)

In Christ,

Teopile/Theophilos Porter

The Glory of God in Georgia

I went to church yesterday here in the village, and it was very wonderful. Ts'minda Toma Ek'lesia (Saint Thomas (the Apostle) Church) is a small church, and simple, but very beautiful. The choir is very good for such a small town (I wasn't expecting much, to be honest), and the priest is a good chanter and a very good man. His son, at either six or sixteen years old (I got mixed responses from my limited Georgian and their limited English) died some years ago and he, then a more secular man, began to more seriously go to Church. Long story short, he was transformed by the grace of God through this family tragedy and became a priest. He has helped especially the young people of the village to be more concerned with their actions and words--not to swear, for example, which I understand was formerly all too frequent for the youth of the village. He also gained permission to renovate the church, because of which there is currently (unfortunately) some scaffolding inside it.

After Church, he took me to Mtskheta and Rustavi with a few other men. I was able to go to the church which houses the burial robe of Christ and a convent, at which St. Nino received her first vision from God. It's amazing, some of the holy sites of this land. After this, we went to a couple supras held by friends and family of Fr. Davit (that's the name of the priest here in Ch'ik'aani), where I learned all of this about his past. Also, through a nearly fluent relation of Fr. Davit's, I was able to understand that he wants me to join the choir and to spend more time with me talking about all things Orthodox, to which news I was very glad.

It is easy to see the holiness of the history and people of this place. I believe these next few months will be for me truly transformative.

In Christ,
Teopile/Theophilos Porter

The Real World of Georgia

Well, yesterday I entered the real world of Georgia.  It turns out I am in the K'akheti region, the Q'vareli district, and the village of Ch'ik'aani.  They had our host families meet us at the hotel, all of them on one side of the lobby and all of us on the other, by calling out the host family and volunteer, having them meet in the middle.  Most people hugged and kissed cheeks--a common greeting in the country (and I should note here that unlike the Russians, who kiss thrice, and the Greeks, who kiss twice, they kiss just the once)--but there were a few entertaining exceptions.  The most notable was when one of the volunteers, who had been hugging and picking up all of us to say goodbye, did the same to say hello to his new host family, eliciting much in the way of red-faced laughter by the surprised family.

Anyway, I met my host mama ("father," ironically, in Georgian) Gia (i.e., Giorgi or George) and his brother Nik'a (i.e., Nik'alozi, or Nicholas).  It was probably a two-and-a-half hour drive or so, through some absolutely gorgeous landscapes, before we arrived in the quaint little village near the foot of the Caucuses where I will be living.  It was a good trip--we spent the time talking about each other (boy, am I glad for those Georgian lessons we had at orientation), explaining what various things were in English or Georgian, and finally talking about the Church and some of the various holy relics and sites they have here.

We finally got to the village about 4:00 or so and I met my host deda (mother), Maradi, my host da (sister), Salome, and my host dzma (brother), Lasha, and we had a small supra of fasting foods.  Variously throughout the evening I met more of the extended family, had some good food and ghvino (K'akheti is known as the wine country of Georgia) and drank to or made probably about 20 toasts, in total.  The people here are wonderful.

The actual home I'm staying in is pretty huge--one story plus a basement for making ghvino (and for other things, I think,but that's mostly what I saw).  Their yard is really nice, too; I wonder if I ate anything they didn't grow themselves.  They grow bananas, pomegranates, persimmons, grapes (of course), blackberries, apples, walnuts, chickens (and thus eggs), pigs, cows, and a LOT more of the like.  They have an outdoor "Turkish" toilet, but an indoor shower--I guess I'll see how well that works tomorrow.  Dinner consisted of an eggplant/pomegranate dish which was completely delicious, some pickled plant of some sort with onions, fried fish which I assume were caught by Gia (and didn't taste at all "fishy," despite them almost certainly being river fish), lots of p'uri (bread) with a few different spiced tomato dips, jug after jug of homemade ghvino, and so forth.  It was absolutely delicious.  To finish the day, I did small compline with my host siblings (in English) and went to bed.

Well, my host family is feeding me yet again (it's a fairly continual process), so I guess I'll talk more later.

In Christ,
Teopile/Theophilos Porter

Walking the Streets of Tbilisi

Yesterday, some of the other TLG volunteers and I spent most of the day walking around Tbilisi. First we took a cab to Freedom Square, then walked down Rustavi Avenue, one of the main roads and a shopping center. Perhaps the most important discovery was how very cheap food can be here. At a confections shop, we saw sweet treats bigger than our fists for 1.5-3 Lari (about 1-2 USD). Walking around more, we found that these weren't out-of-the-ordinary prices, and you know that prices must be higher in the capital city than in the countryside. I particularly enjoyed some of the shops and street markets that sold beautiful Orthodox icons (the metal-covered kind, mostly), vigil lamps, censers, gospels for the altar, chalices, and so forth--right alongside Georgian costume daggers and ox horn glasses. I had seen pictures of people drinking wine out of the smaller variety of these, but did not realize they also sold ones big enough to hold a liter or more each--I guess the Georgians really do like to drink!

The best part of it all for me, though, was the churches. In an hour's walk, you'll probably spot about five different churches--almost all a good bit larger than most I've been in back home. I've been in three so far now--a little chapel for the Department of Justice here (with a deacon whose job appears to be to sit in the altar all day in case anyone needs to talk or anything--how awesome is that!), a larger parish church (right after services finished, it appeared, guessing by the dispersing crowd of laity and the four priests standing around talking to people), and Ts'minda Sameba (Holy Trinity Cathedral), the largest church in Georgia and one of the larger Orthodox churches in the world. It was huge, and absolutely gorgeous. I was simply in awe. We saw three bride-and-groom couples outside the church proper, and when I went in, there was a wedding taking place. Meanwhile, the rest of the believers were milling about the rest of the church, kissing icons and lighting candles. I went downstairs to find one, if not two, more churches on subsequent floors. In the one that was open, there was yet another wedding waiting to take place. Luckily, there was no shortage of priests to ask for a blessing before I left. I'm still
somewhat shocked with awe the next day. If you haven't heard about the cathedral yet, please look it up now.

After that, we took a taxi back and spent the rest of our last free day relaxing. In about ten minutes, I start the next week's schedule of class after class after class after class. Regardless of the business, I am looking forward to what I can take in these next few days.

In Christ,
Teopile/Theophilos Porter