OK, That's Different.

We went to dinner in a delicious restaurant.  Apparently it's a famous one that the President of Georgia frequents.  The food, atmosphere and ambiance were wonderful - and high class.

At the end of dinner, we got our bill.....and this:

I guess Wrigley's is a little posher here in the Caucuses. 

James is the Michael Jordan Of Georgia

James is the Cultural Affairs Officer over here in the G.A. (Georgia), which means he is supposed to end a cultural event almost every night.  Georgia is a huge cultural hub in this part of the world - who knew?  The U.S. has given them oodles of money, so you can imagine the love is strong for us Americans.  Maybe the last place in the world that feels this way.  So, you know, that's nice.

On Friday night my mom said she would babysit so that I could go with James to see a new exhibit for his job, and so that we could have a real date night.  

These clothes are completely, 100%, spit up free.

When we got to the museum, we were late.  Taxi drivers in Georgia are notorious for not knowing where anything is.  I kind of assume that to be one of, if not their only duty, but I guess it's optional.

Upon arriving we saw the last remnants of people in a courtyard with a couple of tables of wine and appetizers.  Someone asked who James was, and when they heard he was the cultural attache from the U.S. Embassy, they immediately grabbed the curator/ head honcho, who was super excited to meet us.  He insisted on re-opening the museum essentially and taking us on a tour.

Every description was punctuated with comments illustrating his great love for America and American money.  People looked at us like we were VIPs and treated us with respect (what??) and I think mistakenly thought that WE actually donated the money.  They were all deferential to James and laughed heartily at his jokes.  I did too, even though they were in Georgian and I had no idea what he was saying.  Why not?  He's important, you should laugh.

After the event, we grabbed a taxi to go get dinner.  Once again, as soon as the taxi driver learned what James did he became very animated.  And here is something I have NEVER seen, and believe only happens to, like, Michael Jordan.

The taxi driver didn't want James to pay.

What????  Apparently it was just a pleasure to get to drive James.  We insisted, but come on.  I dare you to tell me that James is NOT the Michael Jordan of Georgia.  This could be fun.

The Help: Circa 2013

I live in a strange place.  And I'm not talking about Georgia.  The street I live on is odd.  

This is my house.  It's a really nice house.

It's the same as every other house on the street.  Although some are a little bigger.  Most people work at the embassy. 

You see everyone leaving in the morning, and barbequing in their backyards, and playing at our fenced in playground at the end of the street.  There are about 16 houses on our street.

There is nothing else around our little well-developed modern complex.  So it's odd....because it feels like it got dropped out of nowhere (The Truman Show), into this rural part of the world with a small group of people who work and play together, and only see each other every day. 

(Our moving truck - this is what surrounds our house.)

And everyone is from 50's America.  The day I was moving in we had about 4 neighbors pop in at different times to see if they could get me vegetables while they were at the market, to bring us muffins, to ask if we could come by soon for coffee, and to bring us a casserole.  How nice can people be??  But it's a little eerie.  I keep looking around for the cameras.

And while I could spend a whole post dedicated to the similarities my neighborhood has to The Truman Show, what really has me "trippin'" is how much it reminds me of the movie "The Help." 

It's not that there is racism, or people being treated poorly at all, but everyone on the street has "help."  They all have nannies and drivers and housekeepers.  And what's strange about it, is the street has two groups and two cultures.  The Americans, and the Nannies/Housekeepers.  Mainly Nannies. 

The first day we were here, my mom and I put Cora in a stroller and decided to walk down the street.  As we walked we kept bumping in to women with children.  I thought, "how nice to meet our neighbors."  But none of them lived here - they just work here.  It was all the nannies out walking and playing with the children.  Most didn't speak English, so they just smiled at us and cooed over Cora, but I could feel there was an unspoken divide between us and them.  I'm sure they were wondering what I was doing walking my own child.

Since that first day, I have come to understand more their little world. I learned that there is a "head nanny" on the street that they all listen to and that is the big boss.  There is all kinds of categorizing going on within the nanny group, and lots and lots of gossip. 

It's fascinating.   I'm still not sure how comfortable I am with having my own "help", but I figure if I'm going to live here in Truman-Town and make it work....well...if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.   And you really can't beat the price.  With Delsa leaving next week, nanny interviews start today. 

Welcome to Georgia. The Country.

Georgia.  The country.

Just 18 short hours after take off we arrived.  18 hours of standing on a plane bouncing a certain baby girl.  Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.  The good news is we made no one angry on our flight because she hardly ever cried.  Why would she?  She was bounced and held the whole time.  The rest of the good news?  My calfs, thighs, back and arms have never been stronger.  Of course, that's not saying much.

First impression of Georgia?  Not good.  The view on the drive home left me feeling like we were in a third world country and not in Europe.  Old, dilapidated apartment high rises - not old like Europe old - old like 70's in Mexico old.  People burning trash.  Brown landscape everywhere.  I was feeling sleep deprived, scared and a little homesick...and the view brought me little comfort.

The next week and a half was mostly about unpacking, trying to get over jet lag, and making lists of things to do to settle in to home.  We never left our house except for one trip to the grocery store.  I will say that I was pleasantly surprised by our house.  It's large, but not uncomfortably large, and it is pretty modern with large bathtubs.  This is important.  Our street is a story for another post.

I would like to give a huge shout out to Delsa.  I spent some serious time crying to her the first couple days thinking that after all the work she had to do to help me unpack, after her all-nighters with Cora, and her unforced house arrest, that she would never want to come back and see us again.  That she would tell everyone that Georgia sucked and then no one else would come either.

I know I would never want to come back if my decision was based on my first 10 days here.

But then we were saved.  A neighbor invited us to leave the house and go with her to a little town called Mtskheta and we learned that this country actually had charm, personality and most importantly delicious food.  Oh, and things we wanted to buy.  Always important to be able to shop.

Here are some pictures of our trip to Jvari Monastery and Mtskheta:

Jvari Monastery

Our new friend and tour guide Lauren.

Cora loves everything.  Such a happy child.

What's not fun about a place that let's you dress up in far and play a musical instrument?

And what's not to love about a place that let's you borrow a skirt and scarf to go in their church so you can feed your child?  The best part is that a tourist with rough English came up to us and asked if she could take our picture.  I guess we look native.  Or just really odd.  "Hey Martha - check out this photo...hilarious, right?"

I think I might be able to love Georgia after all.  If I can convince Delsa to stay and be my friend for 2 years.