Yesterday was the most eventful day I have had since I arrived at permanent site in Ambrolauri.

The day started out seemingly quite normal. My site-mate Scott and I went to our English lesson around 1:00PM because we were informed that the Minister was coming for a 3:00PM meeting at Scott’s school. We were both under the impression that this meant we were going to be meeting the Minister of Education, though the previous week we had attended a meeting with someone from the Ministry of Education and Science. I guess we just figured that maybe there was something else extremely important that they had to say.

Our class ended around 2, and my director told us that we were actually going to meet the Prime Minister in a neighboring village. So we were told to be in front of the government building a little before 3 o’clock so we could take a bus to the next village. No problem. I ran home to change and eat a little bit before the meeting, because in Georgia, usually things take a  bit longer than planned. I walked down the road to the government building, found my colleagues and Scott’s colleagues all standing under separate trees, talking and anticipating what was going to happen at the meeting. At around 3:40, the bus arrived for us to board, a big red bus with Georgian flags painted on the sides, and we got on, heading for the next village. About every 100 meters or so, there were police officers stationed on the side of the road, sitting under trees and waiting for the arrival of the government official. It was a bigger deal than I had assumed. As soon as we got off the bus, it turned around to head back and grab the rest of the teachers from our two schools.

The school that the meeting was being held at looked brand new: the walls had been painted a neon lime green with yellow accents, and white pillars to boot. It was actually quite picturesque, framed nicely by the surrounding hills and blue sky. The school was down a small slope, and there were police officers checking bags and checking persons for weapons and the like. I decided to take off my sunglasses and just open my backpack, hoping that there wouldn’t be any problems and I could mosey on through, though I have yet to hear that I look like I could be Georgian. As soon as Scott opened his mouth, they knew we weren’t and started asking us questions about where we lived, where we were from, and what we were doing. I was already past the check point when this occurred, so one of the nice police officers held his arm out in front of the stairs before I could pass.

“And you?”

“Ambrolauri.”

“You live there?”

“Yes, I’m an English teacher at the school. I’m a volunteer.”

This would have been a great time to have my passport, or my Residency card for that matter.

They finally called a woman who was either affiliated with our schools or knew us, but she spoke on our behalf and we were in the clear. This, of course, drew much more attention, and everyone in the vicinity was, if had not been already, looking at us. We slowly made our way down the metal staircase and walked to the back of the school where some of our colleagues had gathered.

To cut to the chase, after shooting the breeze with many many Georgians for about three hours, and hearing differences between who was actually going to be presenting some sort of speech (no meeting), we found out President Saakashvili would be coming. Cool. We waited. And we waited. Then we waited some more. We watched little kids throw rocks into the trees, I was told I shouldn’t sit directly on the ground because it was dirty, and I played so many games of Snake on my telephone that I had finally beaten 4 of the 5 top scores that my host brother had created, though he’s still holding the number one slot. We also watched a few military men patrol the scene with some large guns and massive black walkie-talkies.

Finally we watched a hummer full of very buff Georgian men wearing stealthy sunglasses stop at the top of the hill, and three more cars drive in. This was it. Clapping and cheering was heard throughout the crowd, along with screams of “Misha! Misha! Misha!” and about a dozen small Georgian kids wearing “I love Georgia” hats and shirts waving Georgian flags. The president jumped out of his car, ran down the stairs followed by videocameras and photographers, and shook hands and kissed cheeks as he made his way to the platform. He spoke for about five minutes, and with my lack of Georgian skills, I made out as much as I could from what was said. It was over as soon as it had started, and I was able to deter all of the questions concerning what I thought of it and of Saakashvili with more ease than I thought I would have been able. We all left the scene as quickly as we could to get a marshutka back to Ambrolauri.

Hungry and tired, we ate dinner in a rush because my host mom and I needed to attend a birthday supra.

We got there, the table was set, and as soon as we sat down to start eating, the electricity went out. Usually when the electricity goes out during a meal it’s a blessing in disguise for me, because I can get away with not eating as much (seeing as how I had already had my first dinner about an hour before hand). Thunder shook the house and lightning lit up the sky, along with a straight downpour of rain on the gravel roads. The table was lit by one candle, which at the point, was close to going out anyway. At least I was able to drink more wine in the darkness without having to eat my body weight in fried potatoes, eggs in mayo, beans and eggplant. I couldn’t say no to the potatoes, though.

After about twenty minutes of darkness, the lights came back on and we toasted to that.

Thirty minutes later, lightning cracked outside the window and the lights clicked off once more. That’s when the crystal bells were brought out. We toasted to the birthday girl’s life, her family, peace, and I added in “to beautiful women”, drank the wine down in one big gulp, and turned it over to ring it. I guess there’s a first time for everything.

Around 11PM, I was getting tired of being awake, but I had kept myself entertained with the black puppy nipping at my toes and the little girl who wanted to tell me all of her stories about school, her family, dogs in the neighborhood, and a Christmas card that was sitting on the shelf. I understood almost all of what she said, partly because I had been drinking wine, but mostly because she enunciated quite well and our vocabulary was on about the same level.

Unfortunately she left and then I attempted to listen and understand the rest of the conversation at the table. I managed to get by, and at least I could be somewhat entertaining when I was asked about my “shekvarebuli” (lover, or in America, boyfriend), stated I didn’t have one, and was able to say enough about being young, not wanting a husband or kids (with my host mother adding in “yet”), and saying that boys are silly. They laughed. Then one of the women told me about her husband’s brother’s son who lives in San Francisco, is my age, and speaks English very well. She told me that I must come over and speak with him on the phone or on Skype. I smiled and nodded. I’m always being told that I should have a Georgian for a boyfriend, so I guess it doesn’t phase me as much anymore. As we were getting ready to leave, the electricity came back on and the rain lightened up just enough for us to make it home, dodging massive puddles the entire way.

I finally fell into bed, exhausted, and extremely full. It started to rain again, but I sleep better when it’s raining outside, plus the smells of fresh rain and clean mountain air work wonders. At some point during the night, I woke up to the image of my host mother and host brother staring at me from the well-lit hallway with puzzled looks on their faces. I was lop-sided from my horizontal position but all I could think to myself was “Why am I awake right now?” I turned my head into my pillow and fell back asleep.

This morning I woke up to a phone call from my site-mate asking me if I had noticed the earthquake last night. Now it made sense why they were looking at me. Two minutes into our conversation, I received a text message from one of Scott’s counterparts that said “Hi mikaela how are you? Are you o k don’t worry the god is with us:)”. So awesome. All the Georgians that I’ve met are so caring and it was probably the best way I could have started my day.

That is the most eventful day I’ve had in Ambrolauri (thus far).

On a side note:

Me Mikvars Racha (I love Racha) This video was made in my region and in parts of Ambrolauri. I couldn’t find a traditional video but this one is pretty cool anyway.

Turkish Men Raging Phish This one just makes me happy.