Home, sweet home

---

I’d be hard pushed to describe the atmosphere in the hotel on the morning we left. Some of us had planned to have one last look around Tbilisi before we met our host families at 12pm but it didn’t happen. There was packing to be done and then Georgian people started arriving in the lobby so we sort of hid in our rooms or in the bar, not really knowing what to do. Many of us were on our laptops trying to find out something, anything, about where we’ve been sent, not least of which was how far it is from where our friends are being sent. I think everyone is feeling a combination of excitement, impatience and nervousness. And a hint of sadness, of course. We’ve spent the last week together in an unprecedented situation and now we’re all heading off in different directions. Who knows when we’ll meet again?! (Next weekend probably). One of the girls is walking around with a massive McDonalds cup of coke into which she has ingeniously emptied a bottle of whisky for Dutch courage. I am eternally grateful. Finally the time arrives and we congregate in the lobby with our luggage. We realise that we’ll have scant time to say goodbye once our names are called so everyone wanders around hugging and kissing and then stands there feeling foolish as our names aren’t called for ages. Ally and I cling to each other like scared puppies in an animal shelter. Who will pick us? The names are called and each time we clap. The host family or school representative comes forward to collect their volunteer and there are hugs and kisses all round. It’s nerve wrecking and quite sweet all at the same time. The crowd starts to thin out but I can tell my turn’s coming as they begin to call the names of the others placed in my region. Finally it’s my turn and I’m scooped up by a fairly young Georgian woman and we grab my luggage and step outside into the dazzling sunshine. Her name is Eka and she speaks to me in pretty good English. I tell her her English is really good and ask her where she learnt and that’s when I find out I’ll be living with my co-teacher. I couldn’t be more thrilled by this. One of my biggest concerns was not being able to communicate with my host family and now I know it won’t be a problem. We collect a box of books and some posters from the back of a van and then head to my family’s car. In the car with us are Eka’s husband, Gala, his brother and Eka’s brother in law. Eka explains to me that we are going to see her sister who lives in Tbilisi before we drive to their house in Koki. Fine by me. We drive for a while and every 30 seconds or so Eka’s phone rings and she has a brief conversation with someone. Every time I hear the word ‘gogo’ which means girl so I know they’re phoning up to ask ‘Who did you get?’ I wish my Georgian was good enough to understand what she’s saying about me! I optimistically tell myself that she’s pleased with her prize. My biggest fear all this time was that they would take one look at me and try to give me back!
We arrive at Eka’s sister’s flat and she has a little one-year old boy so every fawns over him and plays for a while and then we have lunch which turns out to be a little mini Supra (the word for Georgian table/party/feast). We eat some beautiful food and out comes a bottle of Russian vodka and the toasts start. Obviously I feel the need to prove myself so I keep saying ‘one more’ until the bottle is empty. Hmm, five shots of vodka and a shit load of food before a five hour car journey – probably not my smartest move! They drink to me and my country. Then they drink to those who are not with us, which is traditional. I gather that both Gala’s parents are dead so it’s a sombre toast. Then, emboldened by the vodka, I ask if I can say something. I say that I know it’s not traditional for me to make a toast but I hope they won’t mind (normally at a Georgian Supra there is a Tamada, usually the head of the household, who acts as toast master.) I say that I’m very happy to be in Georgia and very grateful to be with their family and that I hope I can make a valuable contribution in the following weeks. Eka translates and we all drink. I’m not sure how it’s received but I wanted to express my gratitude somehow. Eventually at around 5pm we pile back into the car, leaving behind Eka’s brother in law at the flat. We drop Gala’s brother off at the side of the road somewhere outside of Tbilisi and, for a while, it’s just the three of us until we stop once again in a seemingly random place and pick up Gala’s sister and her son (they live in the next village along from us). The landscape changes dramatically just a short distance outside of Tbilisi but unfortunately it soon begins to get dark so I can’t see much. Just before it does though I catch a glimpse of my first snow-capped mountain in the distance, which is very exciting. We also pass fields filled with row upon row of identical small green houses and I ask Eka about them. She tells me they are refugee camps for families displaced from Abkhazia. It transpires that Gala is from Moscow and Eka from Abkhazia. From the small article I found about my school online I know that it contains about 80 students displaced from the region. By this point the alcohol is taking its toll and I’m desperately trying to stay awake but my head keeps dropping onto my chest. I really don’t want the first thing I do after meeting these people to be falling asleep in their car but it’s so hard to stay awake. The journey takes about five hours so it’s after 10pm by the time we arrive ‘home’. Along the way various things happen that nobody explains to me so I have no idea what’s going on. My particular favourite is when we stop in the middle of nowhere for no apparent reason. We’re opposite a shop so I think maybe Gala is going to get out to buy something but no. Eventually a woman appears at the driver’s window and Gala winds it down and hands her some money…and then we drive off. Nothing else changes hands and I can think of no explanation for what’s happened. I assume I will never know! As we drive I can tell we’re passing through mountains (or possibly large hills) but it’s too dark to see much. When I next make the journey back to Tbilisi I will try to make sure it’s during the day because I desperately want to see the countryside. At one point towards the end of our journey we stop at a petrol station and Gala exchanges pleasantries with the men working there. As we drive off Eka tells me that this is where Gala works and I think we must be nearly home but we drive for another 40 minutes and I think it’s a shame that Gala has to work so far from home, particularly since we pass another station of the same chain much closer to Koki. Eventually we drive through Zugdidi and out the other side towards Koki. We overshoot our house to drop Gala’s sister at her home and then backtrack to our house. We are finally here. I meet the children – Gio (short for Giorgi; about half of all Georgian men are called this it seems) who’s 14 and Mari who’s eight. They also live with Eka’s brother, Levani. I guess you would call him my host uncle, although he’s only 23. We are greeted as soon as we arrive by Ritchie, the most excitable dog in the world. I think he’s a puppy he’s so sprightly but Eka tells me he’s actually 10! Eka shows me to my room and I begin to unpack but I am so tired it’s really only a token effort. My room contains bunk beds and I have a fear (later confirmed) that this is the children’s room and they are sleeping in the living room. Eka makes up my bed on the bottom bunk. My room also contains a desk and chair and a wardrobe. The window looks out onto the yard, although this stretches all around the house so this would be true wherever it was. We have tea and some bread and cheese and chat for a while. Eka says to me, “Tonight you are my guest, tomorrow, this is your home.” I think this is a good thing but there’s also something strangely ominous about it! Once the kids leave (I’m waiting for them to go because I didn’t bring anything for them!) I give Eka and Gala the gifts I’ve brought. I’m sure Gala is pleased with the whisky and cigarettes but I’m not sure about Eka and her gifts. Women are so much harder to buy for; especially those you’ve never met! Eka asks me if the cigarettes were very expensive, I suspect as a direct result of me telling them in the car earlier, purely as a means of making conversation, that a pack of 20 cigarettes in England would cost about 18 Lari (as opposed to around 1.2 Lari here) and I say yes and then immediately realise that I’ve basically said that I’ve bought them a very expensive gift so I start desperately back peddling and explain that they are not expensive in England, just expensive compared with here. As it gets on for midnight I make my excuses and go to bed. This seems so silly looking back now but as I lay in bed that night I genuinely thought, ‘How am I going to get out of this?’ I really don’t want to sound spoilt and ungrateful but I am deeply disturbed by the fact that I’ve clearly stolen the children’s bedroom. In addition my room leads directly off the living room and has frosted glass in the door which means that I feel that if I’m going to bed then I have to either leave the light on until they go to bed so that they don’t feel that they’re disturbing me when they see my light go off, or if they turn the light off and go to bed then I have to as well because I don’t want to disturb them. I also feel I can make no noise in my room because one thin wall is all that separates us. There go my plans to form a one-woman brass band. The other problem is that the bathroom and toilet are outside. This wouldn’t be a problem in itself, I’ve peed in places immeasurably worse, except that obviously I have to walk through the living room to get to them. The issue hasn’t arisen yet thankfully but I’ve already decided that if I wake up in the middle of the night desperate for a piss then I am fully prepared to climb out of my bedroom window rather than wake them up. I just couldn’t ever imagine myself being comfortable here. But tomorrow’s another day.

---