After my exciting travels
with the supremely hospitable members of ZAR, I settled into the more mundane
environs of the Bazaleti Hotel in Tbilisi (pictured at right) for my week-long
TLG training. TLG, short for “Teach and Learn with Georgia,” is a program run
through the Georgian Ministry of Science and Education, whose aim is to bring
native speakers of English to help teach in public schools. Their emphasis is
definitely on quantity: there were over 50 new volunteers in my training group,
with another 50 set to arrive the next week, in addition to the hundreds
already in schools scattered throughout Georgia. There have been articles
written various places about this program, which highlight different strengths
and flaws. I won’t dwell too much on the training, which was incredibly boring
(except for the Georgian language classes, which I quite enjoyed), and
simultaneously too long and too short. Too short in the sense that there’s no
way to get anywhere in a language (especially one as different from
Indo-European languages as Georgian is), or thoroughly learn about a culture,
in one week. By comparison, Peace Corps volunteers (of whom there are a number
in Georgia, mostly also doing English language teaching, I understand) are
trained in-country for I think two months before being sent to their
destination. The TLG training was too long in the sense of each day (session
after session with short breaks from 8am-7pm) and in the sense that each
session could be boiled down to: “this is a different culture with different
resources and expectations – be prepared to improvise.” Of course, TLG has to
try to cover enough bases so the less culturally-adept volunteers don’t
experience complete culture shock.
One view from my window: the police station is the orange building to the left, my school the yellow one to the right.
Anyway, enough about that.
Only after five days of training did I actually find out my placement:
Kobuleti, a coastal town in the southwestern region of Adjara. (Which could
also be spelled Achara, or the way that I notate Georgian sounds for myself,
Ach’ara). Adjara is technically an autonomous republic, though today its
relations with the national government are pretty normalized. I haven’t noticed
too much in my short amount of time to indicate any kind of difference in
services or administration. The
landscape in this region is really stunning. We’re right on the eastern coast
of the Black Sea. The house where I’m living is about 200 meters from the
water. The whole town is basically two long streets (David Aghmashenebeli and
Rustaveli, like in every other Georgian city) that run parallel to the beach,
with cross streets in between, so my proximity to the sea isn’t anything
special here. What is special, though, are the mountains that rise high up, a
mere 5-10km or less from the beach. You can see them from my bedroom window.
The only place I’ve seen pictures of that seems to compare would be Chile,
where the Andes mountains rise directly from the coastal plains. As I
understand it, there aren’t many established trails in the mountains near
Kobuleti, so they tend to be explored only during the warmer months, when the
snow and subsequent mud have somewhat receded.
My host family has been
extremely welcoming and generous. There are four children, two parents, and two
grandparents. The oldest child, who speaks English very well, is at the
university in Tbilisi, so I’ve only seen her a few times. The mother speaks
some English, enough to give essential information, though not necessarily
enough to always know what I’m saying. With the father, grandparents, and the
three youngest kids, then, I’m mostly stuck with my less-than-rudimentary
Georgian. But it’s an ideal environment in which to improve, or so I keep
telling myself.
First glimpse of the Black Sea
My first night in Kobuleti,
I was immediately put in the archetypal situation of a Georgian supra. It was my host mother’s birthday,
and I was literally delivered to the restaurant after an excruciating 6-hour marshutka ride from Tbilisi. I got to
taste some delicious Adjarian food right away (similar in many ways to other
parts of Georgia, but with a healthy dose of Turkish and Middle Eastern spices
and techniques), and had to take part in many toasts, followed by dancing. My
proudest moment was when I offered to sing a “Mravalzhamier,” a classic
Georgian toast song, wishing long life to someone. The only one I know was part
of a Double Edge Theatre performance (The
Firebird, in 2010), and I didn’t know if it would be well-known in this particular
region, but as soon as I finished the first phrase, the priest’s wife joined in
on another part and others joined in. We got about halfway through before the
harmonies fell apart (which easily could have been my fault, given the number
of toasts that had preceded this moment). Immediately after this song, the
local priest, who was also the tamada
(toastmaster) of the supra, asked “Do
you want a Georgian wife?”
(One recording from YouTube of the "Aslanuri Mravalzhamier")
In general, I’ve been less
active in music-gathering since arriving in Kobuleti. The job has been
challenging, working in grades 1-9, with about five lessons a day, always with
a Georgian co-teacher. We’re planning a Valentine’s Day party, though, which
will involve some singing (I taught some of the classes the Beatles’ “All You
Need is Love”, not fully realizing how difficult the verses would be for
non-native speakers). It’s also been difficult finding many musical events in
town, though I suspect there’s more going on in Batumi, the regional capital,
which is about 30 minutes away by marshutka.
As the weather warms up, also, I imagine there will be more folk music and
dancing going on. All three children in the house take traditional dance
classes, and they’ve offered to bring me along to watch at some point. The
oldest boy also taught me the words and melody to a Georgian folk song, which
I’ve been slowly learning. It seems to be a two-part song, accompanied most
often, I think, by a changuri (small
three-string lute) and possibly drums. Here’s a performance from YouTube:
It looks like I’ll have to
sing this song also at the Valentine’s Day party (with help from the children).
So far, things are good in Kobuleti – I’m well-fed, adjacent to a great deal of
natural beauty, and healthily challenged by working with young, rambunctious
Georgian children.
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