Fresh, Cheap Powda

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Originally uploaded by SethTri

This past weekend, Meg & I headed up to Gudauri to get some skiing/snowboarding in and just to get away from the city for a few days. We stayed in a really nice hotel, that included two meals apiece for pretty cheap.

The lift was a 5 minute walk from the hotel and the powder was awesome. This was the first weekend Gudauri had been open and they had about 2-3 feet of powder that had generally been untouched except for a few "groomed" areas. Saturday was spent getting my board back under my feet and playing in the powder with a few USAID guys I bumped into on the mountain. Sunday I put on the new splitboard got a few turns in with that, then split it apart and hiked up a bit. It's reasonably easy to take the board apart and make it into skinable skis, and I'm sure with more practice I'll get faster.

Once I got accustomed to the new board, it proved its value. Despite the split down the middle, the board does its job and keeps me on top of the powder MUCH better than my shorter resort board. In bounds the board doesn't respond as well, but a good portion of that is probably due to the fact that it's longer and I've pushed my center of gravity way towards the back for the powder. Skinning isn't exactly as fun as riding down hill, but it's certainly easier than hiking and being able to access untouched powder in the future will be great. That said, on Sunday we didn't need the skins to get to the powder, as they opened up the high lift and the steep, deep untouched snow was awesome.

Meg rented a pair of skis (for 30 Lari! Less than $20!) and skied the easy slopes for a while and felt pretty good about it. This place is a little over 90 minutes from home and will be a great place for most of the winter.

Here's a shot of the high lift, there are more shots on flickr that you can find by clicking on the flickr badge to the right.

Phone tag in Georgia

I swear. Someone has seriously got to teach these people how to use the phone. When you dial the wrong number, hitting redial, will likely result in the same. Wrong. Number. Also when the person on the other end of the phone call does not speak your language, continuing to talk in aforeign language will not change his mind to actually speak your language. To help clarify, let me give you and example of a series of phone calls I received from my friend at (899)751-394. (For those of you not in Georgia, that's +995-99-751-394. Feel free to give my friend a call. I hear skype is cheap.)

First call:
Me: Hello?
Him: Hallo?
Me: Hello?
Him: Hallo?
Me: I only speak english. Can I help you?
Him: Garmarjobat, goopity goop goop lots of Georgian here...
Me: I'm sorry, I don't speak Georgian, just English. Try again.
Him: (Lots of Georgian)
Me: Sorry, wrong number. (I hang up.)

10 seconds later. Same number. (Note: I've played this game before, so I'm getting better at it.)

Me: Domino's Pizza can I take your order, please?
Him: Vova? (more Georgian follows)
Me: Let me get that straight, you want a Pepperoni pizza and two cokes, is that right?
Him: Click. (finally)

10 seconds later. (Seriously, you can't type the number in that fast.)
Me: (Like Friend's) How you doin'?
Him: (Click -- I think he saw that episode.)

10 seconds later. (What does this guys seriously expect?)
Me: I still don't know Georgian. Wrong Number.
Him: Rattles off a huge line of Georgian.
Me: (Click)

10 seconds later. (This is costing him money by the way. Costs me nothing.)
Me: Sir, this is not your lucky number. You did not win the lottery. Calling again will not increase your chances.
Him: Click.
(FINALLY!!!!)


This happens ALL the time. And not just to me. I can't tell you how often I talk to people at work who complain about the same thing. None of us can figure out any explanation for why this would ever occur. It must be a Georgian thing.

Snow in Georgia

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Originally uploaded by SethTri

This past weekend, after unpacking the household effects for a few days and celebrating Thanksgiving with some friends, Meg & I went for a 2 hr drive north up to Gadauri to check out the snow. It turns out we didn't have to go that far. When we woke up, there was snow on our roof top and the foothills around town had about 3-4 inches on 'em! We still went for the drive though. (Secretly, so I could check to see what the ski resort was like and if they were open yet.)

The ski resort isn't open yet, but a couple more decent sized dumps will probably do it. They already had about 2 feet of powder, and I saw the chair lift moving. The whole region was super gorgeous though. I'm starting to suspect this winter might be a lot of fun.

We both got a nice run in on Sunday through the snow. For the first time since I got here, I was able to run 90 minutes and felt strong enough to keep running. I'm suspecting the arrival of the camelback and some nutritional products helped. Awesome, beautiful run.

I'll have to get some photos up in flickr, but for now, this is what you get. A quiet town along side a river in the mountains of Georgia.

Tbilisi Protests get Teargassed

Just in case you guys are hearing about Georgian politics, I thought I'd make sure everyone knew that we're fine and haven't had any real impact by the local protests. For those that may not have heard, there has been some protests against the government by the opposition for the last 6 days now. For the first time today, they got dispersed with teargas and water canons. You can read some articles on the Guardian the Herald Tribune or at the BBC .

For us, all is fine, just avoiding the neighborhood around the protests. More later, if we get a chance.

Just a Regular Tuesday Night

Last night Seth and I went out to dinner. It was a spur of the moment decision made by people every day but it turned out to be a great night in Georgia.

We had intended to meet some of Seth's colleagues for dinner, but when they canceled he came to pick my up at work and take me home as it was a rainy, chilly night. On the way home we passed a restaurant, saw an available parking space and decided to give it a try.

The place was small, and sparsely furnished with wooden tables and chairs. After several awkward instances of lingering at the door of restaurants we have learned that in Georgia, you always seat yourself, so we walked to the back of the room and found a table.

The waitress came over, spoke English and handed us a menu in English, a much appreciated gesture to these 2 tired Americans. They had beer on tap and the table behind us was crowded by a group of men who would spontaneously break into traditional Georgian song. It is difficult to describe this style of singing, acapella with layers of harmony, hauntingly beautiful. After their songs those of us sitting near by applauded or raised a glass in a toast.

The food came and it was delicious, roast pork, meatloaf stuffed with herbs and cheese with an over-medium egg on top and French fries! We ate, we talked about our day and told each other stories like any other dinner out.

One of the men at the table behind us got up to leave, apparently having had a few too many glasses of wine. He took a few missteps dropping his coat in the process. When Seth got up to help him he shook our hands and said "Nakhvamdis!" ("Good bye") We exchanged laughs and smiles with his table of friends. A few moments later the waitress came over with 2 shot glasses of Georgian whiskey and said, "I'm sorry but these are from the table behind you." We toasted them thankfully and tossed back the shot. After the waitress convinced me to have one more beer, "A small one!" We packed ourselves up and headed home.

When we got in the car I looked at Seth and said, "We just had a completely unplanned and fantastic night. You can tell that we are beginning to feel more at home here because nothing about tonight felt unusual or out of the ordinary, but when was the last time in the States that you went out to dinner, had the table behind you break into beautiful song throughout the meal while we talked and then bought us a shot?"

This night was a perfect example of the "Georgian hospitality" everyone talks about. It can take you awhile to find it, but once you do, you will begin to notice it in the most unlikely places and it will endear this country to your heart.

The Land of Big Dreams

Georgian claims ear-pull world record

Mon 29 Oct 2007, 15:16 GMT

TBILISI, Georgia (Reuters) - Georgian athlete Lasha Pataraia might not be the strongest man on earth but he may have the strongest ears.

Pataraia believes he has dragged himself into the record books at the Alexeyevka military airfield near the Georgian capital Tbilisi on the weekend when he pulled a 7,734 kg (17,050 lb) military helicopter for 26.3 metres (yards) with his ear.

Pataraia, 27, encouraged by a crowd of his family, friends and supporters, attached one end of the rope to his ear while the other end was tied to the front wheel of the helicopter.

Followed by the cheering crowd, he pulled it for about 20 seconds, almost fainting after he finished.

Just minutes after setting a new world record, Pataraia told reporters he was already planning to set another record.

"It was very difficult, I was very nervous. But I hope in the future with both my ears to move a subject twice as heavy as this one," Pataraia told Reuters Television.

The organisers of the event claimed that Pataraia has set both the world and the Guinness record although a representative of the Guinness Book of Records was not present.

© Reuters 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Rules of the Road

You've all heard the stories, one of the charming idiosyncrasies of living in Tbilisi is the appalling driving displayed by the locals. You hear the jokes and wise cracks and think, "They're bad drivers, I get it, so are half the people on the Beltway." Oh, but you don't 'get it.' In an effort to broaden your cross cultural understanding we have compiled the following list of driving guidelines (because in Tbilisi, as in hashing, there are no rules.)

The Traffic Circle


Unlike the in US, where it is taken for granted that drivers approaching a traffic circle understand that they must yield the right of way to the traffic that is already in the circle, Georgian drivers approach traffic circles with a level of stammering discomfort similar to a guy at a party who reaches for the last beer only to brush the hand of the most beautiful girl in the room who is reaching for the same beer. The exchange goes something like this:

"Oh! I'm sorry, did you-"
"Oh, I didn't-"
"No, please. I can get-"
"No, no. It's not a prob-"
"I insist. Please, it's on me." (attempt at 'charming')
"Well, alright."

Now replace the beer with honking horns, the brushing hands with screeching tires, and the polite insistances with halting brakes and you have the dance that is the Georgian traffic circle. The exchange goes something like this:

"Is he gonna go or not?"
"Don't they know they have the right of way if they're in the circle?!"
"They're not going to move, just go."
"WAIT! WAIT! They're going!"
Hoooooonk, honk, honk.
"Freakin' Georgian drivers."

Lines Are for Beginners

One of the first things we noticed about drivers in Georgia is that no one seems to believe that the lines painted on the road are meant for them. Cars are constantly pulling out into on coming traffic to get around the rare driver who is not treating his commute to work like a drag race, only to squeeze back over the line an instant before what would surely be a fatal head on collision. What may appear to be a 2 lane road to the Western eye will be transformed to a 6 lane super highway by Georgian drivers. Silly girl, that's not a shoulder. It's a bus stop/parking space/passing lane.

The lack of attention paid to obvious traffic markings is not an original or rare complaint among Westerners here. A few weeks ago Seth and a couple other guys were joking about it over lunch and decided to ask a local "What gives?"

"The lines?" he asked. "Oh, those are just for beginners."

and that's no lie.



One Way, Schmun Way

How many times have you found yourself face-to-face with a one way street that is the only thing standing between you and your destination? "Damn!" you think, "If I could just get down that street!"


Well in Georgia, you can! Corporate monkeys sitting around their conference tables brainstorming solutions to the recent fall in profits could stand to take a page out of the Georgian Drivers Manual (excuse me, I just snorted Diet Coke out my nose at the thought of such a tome.) These people invented "thinking outside the box."

The street you need is one way in the opposite direction? No problem, simply make sure that your car is pointed in the correct direction and then throw it in reverse. Proceed to weave in and out of the oncoming traffic and feel free to honk at any inconsiderate drivers who wont get out of your way. I mean, after all, you're the one who has to drive looking backwards over your shoulder. Surely they can avoid you while looking straight ahead!

Do You Speak Horn?

In Tbilisi there are 4 forms of communication: Non-verbal, spoken, written and horn. Americans, listen up! We have been underutilizing that soft, squishy area in the center of our steering wheel for too long! Gone are the days when honking your horn meant "Hey watch it jack-ass!" or "Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO DIE!" Leave it to the Georgian driver to once again open your eyes to new possibilities.

In Georgia, honking one's horn is merely a form of communication, with different honks conveying a veritable cornucopia of meanings. For example:

a short, non-aggressive honk = "I'm in your blind spot. Don't move, I'll pass you in a second."
a long, protracted blast with no break = "The light is about to turn green, why are we still sitting here? Go already! I'll pass you in a second."
2 short honks followed by a moderate blast = "Good morning Giorgi, my wife tells me that your wife is pregnant. Congratulations on your fertile seed! I'll pass you in a second."

We hope that these simple guidelines will enhance your future travels.

Little House in Tbilisi

So, Meg and I seem to be living on the TV set to Little House on the Prairie. Between the Conestoga Wagon we spotted a few weeks ago and the preparations for the winter we're doing now, I'm convinced.

This weekend we decided to take advantage of the dirt cheap fruit & veggie prices and our own bountiful harvest and start getting ready for the upcoming shortages. We went down the street and bought about 18 tomatoes and made some homemade spaghetti
sauce. We used some fresh bay leaves from the tree in the back yard as well and canned them in old pickle jars we had. (Since we're going to freeze it, we're not too concerned about truly canning them, but we did boil the jars and the button is now showing a vacuum seal.) For about the cost of 4 Georgian Lari (GEL), we made 3 jars that probably would have cost us 15 GEL. Who knows what they'll cost in February.


Also, our pomegranate trees are dumping a LOT of fruit right now. So between last weekend and this weekend we spent about 6 or so hours cutting into them and picking out the tasty seeds and sticking them into freezer bags so that we can have them throughout the winter. They're pretty good on cereal in the morning and Meg got adventurous and made pomegranate syrup one day. Maybe we'll track down a juicer and juice some. Maybe.

We've also harvested the hazelnuts from our tree, though without a nut cracker, they're just sitting there taunting me. We haven't exactly figured out what we're supposed to do with them, so odds are, we'll screw up somehow and we'll have a tupperware full of a science experiment that used to be Hazelnuts, but now is threatening to provide us penicillin.



The dried fruit experiment we tried last week, didn't work out so well. After 5 hours of drying, the apple slices weren't really that dry. They were close, but we probably need to cut them thinner or they'll probably rot pretty quickly.

In short, if our survival for the coming winter is dependent on our food stores and proper preparation, we're doomed. We may wind up foraging for katchupuri scraps with the local ferrel dogs. (We're not in east Asia, so I think the dogs are safe here.) Thankfully there are also sushi restaurants, though given the surroundings, they're a little suspect.

Meg's Lake Run

On Saturday morning we decided to make our way to Lisi Lake. We have been meaning to get to this lake set back in the hills North of our house to explore and go for a run. After breakfast we filled up our water bottles and head out. No sooner have we gotten out of the truck before I had to go to the bathroom (and I'm not talkin' #1 if you catch my drift!)

After some reproachful looks from Seth (who always remembers to evacuate his body before leaving home) and wandering around the old Soviet ruins on the lake shore looking for an out house or toilet of some kind, we finally approach two old Georgian men who are sitting on a bench. In broken Georgian we say "Good Morning" and communicate my "need." They point in a general direction past the parking lot.

We head that way and climb a small set of stairs to a crumbling concrete structure that looks like something out of the movie Hostel (thank God it is daylight or I may have lost my nerve.) Seth and I walk in and find 3 holes in the ground full of shit and garbage that look like they haven't been used in years.

I don't have a choice, either I add my donation to the hole or I take the truck home. I am really looking forward to this run. Seth and I walk back outside and each take out the photo copy of our passports that we run with in case of emergency. We tear the edges of blank paper around the copy off for me to use as toilet paper. Seth, the constant gentleman, crinkles his paper until it takes on the softness of Quilted Northern. After I drop the kids off at the town landfill, we head out for a truly cool run along the ridge line surrounding the lake.

Now, If I don't get some serious "tough chick" points for that there is a problem with the world as we know it.

Tbilisi HHH Celebrates #200 in Telavi

What better way to celebrate your 200th hash in a country that is known for its wines, than by going to a wine tasting? On Saturday morning, Meg & I packed our bags for the weekend and met some folks to drive the 2 hrs to Telavi. The drive was overall uneventful and much better than the drive to Shatili. (Read: the roads were paved the entire way.) We showed up, checked into our hotel -- which was surprisingly quite nice, though they didn't have enough beds for all of us due to a shipment problem earlier in the week. (Somehow they found enough cots to fill our needs.) We went for a hash in the beautiful country side around two old monasteries (one seen here). The run was great fun, despite the trail disappearing at points.

The guy who had set the trail earlier that morning came back with stories of highly agitated shepherds who were beside themselves when they spotted him running through their pastures dropping handfuls of flour every 20 feet or so. One shepherd approached him and gestured to see this mysterious white powder that he was dotting their fields with. When he handed over the bag of flour the shepherd reached a hand inside and took a handful, asked in Russian, "May I?" and proceeded to put the handful of flour into his shirt pocket.

After hearing this we were not surprised to discover that many of the trail marks which had been carefully laid earlier that day had disappeared. Either the shepherds diligently rubbed out the marks to keep the crazy Westerner from returning with his friends or they scooped up each little mound of grain to run home and start baking bread for the coming winter.

We then went home and had a "supra-lite" -- which is to say a supra composed mostly of foreigners and only lasting 6 hours. (That's a lot of heavy wine drinking in my book.) The food was great and I think the wine was good, but who really knows. (For real supras, apparently they budget 20L PER PERSON.)

Some of us staggered up in the morning for breakfast, then we had a quick little hangover hash outside the hotel. (I got nominated to live hare it as I think I was the only one really willing to carry a 5 lb bag of flour around in the morning. I found another shepard that was none too thrilled about me throwing white stuff on the ground.) We came back, cleaned up a bit and went wine tasting before we drove back home.

Man's Best Friend, Meg's New Nemesis

I write today in an appeal for help. Family, friends, I have come to you for guidance and trusted advice over the past 30 years. I come to you today because I need to find a way to deal with the feral dogs outside my apartment window. For the past 3 nights I have been treated to, what sounds like, several stray dogs intent on killing, or at least slowly torturing, one another in the parking lot behind my apartment. They hold a standing appointment at 2:45 am with encore performances at 4:15 and 5:45. These are not merely obnoxious barks, these are calls to attack mingled with the agonizing cries of the defeated. I nearly broke down this morning and committed the classic ghetto act of screaming out the window: "SHUT THE BLANKETY-BLANK UP!"

Fortunately I was able to maintain a shred of dignity and instead, got dressed and walked over to the house at 6:30am

My trusted confidants, if you have any guidance (or a small handgun) I would be in your debt.

This blog enters the 21 Century. (Beating Georgia by miles...)

Hey, so for those of you who have made some comments, I made some technical changes / discoveries this week with the blog.

• For those looking for RSS Feeds. You can put the following into your RSS reader (Firefox for me) and it should give you the feed.

• http://spartanoverseas.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss

• Also, for those who were trying to post comments but found you had to log in to do that: I believe I have changed it so that anonymous posts now work. If you're going to be anonymous tho, please at least sign it so that I know you're there.

I may change the RSS feed to feedburner to keep better stats of who's subscribed to the feed, etc, but I need to look at that more. Changes to that feature will be posted here first.

Thanks for reading all. Send us comments as its the only way we know you're reading it!

What is that? A Conestoga Wagon?

On our way home from a run the other night we took a wrong turn somewhere between Vazha Pshavela Ave. and Nutzibidze St. We caught our mistake, but not before it resulted in a serious detour onto the Oregon Trail.

What's worse than a Hedgehog?

Too funny: from a speech the President of Georgia (Saakishvili) said the other day:
(Full Text: http://www.president.gov.ge/?l=E&id=2315)


We want peace, but we must ensure that all prospective provocateurs and all prospective troublemakers understand well that they will be met here not by a hedgehog, but by a creature far worse than a hedgehog, thanks to our preparedness, our resources and our motivation.

What's worse than a hedgehog?

Ill tempered mutated hedgehogs with freakin' laser beams on their heads!

Shatili, Georgia (It's near those friendly guys in Chechnya)

Over Labor Day weekend we traveled to a small village near the Russian-Georgian border called Shatili. This village is located in a region known as Khevsureti. Historically the Khevsurians patrolled the Northern border with Russia. This way of life is reflected in their architecture. Hundreds of towers connected to one another by narrow bridges and corridors created fortified towns. The tower systems usually had a few narrow entrances followed by a series of loop holes and secret passageways that served to trap invading forces in their labyrinth while the Khevsurians attacked from above.


Of the hundreds of original towers, only several dozen remain. This is where we stayed for 3 days and 2 nights, sleeping in one of the original towers which had been modestly refurbished. I was amazed that we were allowed to stay in these towers, realizing that a similar anthropological site in the U.S. would never permit this. What an incredible opportunity to experience this culture.



The drive to Shatili was an adventure in itself with the 120km drive taking just over 4 hours. Once outside T'bilisi the road quickly became a network of patched asphalt and potholes. From there it shortly became a dirt road with even larger potholes which switched back through the mountains with numerous river crossings over a series of rickety steel plate bridges.





Upon arrival our guide, Shalva, took us on a brief "excursion" through the towers, teaching us some of the history of the area. We navigated the network of corridors and climbed to the roofs which were once covered in grass for insulation. He pointed out windows in the upper levels that were used to empty cauldrons of boiling water on invading armies and a brewery where women were historically forbidden from entering. In an effort to honor the Khevsurian culture the women on the trip had to stay back while Seth and Shalva enjoyed the "Man Privileges" of a brewery tour. (Yes, Shalva actually said, "Come. We have Man Privilege." This became a recurring joke of the weekend. Seth's other "Man Privileges" also included bringing all the luggage down from the hill we had to park the cars on and making sure our wine glasses were never dry.)

Authentic Georgian meals were provided everyday including staple dishes like khachapuri (cheese bread), khinkali (spicy meat dumplings), fried potatoes, fresh honey, breads, fresh milk (like, from the cow that morning) and tomato and cucumber salads. We were well fed and we needed it to fuel up for the daily hikes to explore this beautiful region.

Russian Border Guards and the Death Houses

Inside the Death House

After unpacking and having lunch our guide took us on a 2 km walk to the Russian border. Along the way we passed by cows grazing on the side of the path and a Caucasian Shepherd Dog puppy which looked like a bear cub. As we approached the border guards located high on the mountain side we could spot 3 guards looking down at us through their binoculars. Shalva waved and they waved back, apparently we were "cool" to keep going. There were a series of boulders painted white marking the border. A bit further along the path, where 2 rivers met, we came upon a group of low, stone buildings with small windows. These were the death houses. During the times of plague villagers who became sick were sent away from the towns to die in these rooms. Human bones still lie on the ground inside, visible through the small windows. We saw whole vertebrae and spinal columns intact.

The Germans and Their "Nut Liquor"

When we returned from our walk we came home to find that a group of German travelers had arrived to share the towers with us for the weekend. After introductions we sat down for dinner on wooden benches (actually, I think they were large tree trunks) around a low table. After dinner we sat around telling stories and homemade wine one of our friends had brought. One of the Germans went outside and came back with a 20 oz. Coke bottle, only what was inside didn't look like Coke. They began pouring small cups and passing them around. Seth asked the German next to me what it was and he said:

"Nut liquor."

"It's not liquor?" Seth asked.

"No, it is nut liquor. made from walnuts."

"Oh, I thought you said 'not liquor'."

"Ah, no, it is nut liquor."

Sitting in between this exchange it took all of my self control not to squirt wine out of my nose. The girls across the table from me understood my dilemma as we all struggled not to fall off our benches in hysterics. You see, to us it sounded like the boys kept repeating...well, if you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not going to spell it out here.

Mutso

Mutso Towers

The following day we headed 13 km down river to one of the oldest and largest fortresses in Khevsureti, Mutso. Built on a rocky hill 150 meters high is another tower system which served as a place for the people of the village to gather to discuss their problems, it was their parliament. The climb up to the towers was more technical that the climb to the towers we were staying in. We followed our guide up the rocky hillside, picking our way among the vegetation and crumbling shale. Another group visiting Mutso had a dog with them that would run ahead and behind us on the trail. It was trying to herd us, but mostly succeeded in tripping us up on these narrow paths. We named him Shmagi, one of the worst Georgian names we have heard yet. Once we reached the tower system we roamed freely, ducking into rooms which the plant life has begun to reclaim for the mountain. The architecture was impressive to say the least. After refilling our water bottles in the mountain stream (something Seth and I were both wary of doing but everyone assured us they had drank it and had been fine) everyone except Seth piled back into the cars to drive home. He strapped on his trail shoes and enjoyed a 13 km run along the river back to the towers we were staying in.

Monday Morning Run and the Spanish Boxer

While the rest of our group dozed on our last morning in Shatili, Seth and I headed out for a run. He had been eying a particularly steep path up the mountain that we could see from our balcony and I wanted to explore the other end of the river. It was a beautiful morning, cool breeze and bright sky. We headed out together and split off at the mountain path. As I ran along the river I saw a man and a young boy running toward me. As we passed I smiled and said, "Gamarjobat." which means "Hello" in Georgian. The man wheeled around and jogged after me. I thought, "Nice one Meg. Now what have you gotten yourself into." He started talking excitedly to me in Georgian to which I could only smile, laugh and shrug. After a moment he turned and went back the way he came with a wave.

On my way back toward the towers I ran into Seth who had come to find me. He took me home a different route (that means "harder" for those who don't know Seth's running style.) On the way back I told him about my encounter with the Georgian. As we neared the top of the path I spotted the man again and said, "That's him!" When we reached a clearing to stretch and cool down he came over and tried to talk to us in English. We were so grateful he knew a little, because our knowledge of Georgian was no help. It turns out he is a professional boxer in Madrid and was in Shatili visiting his family. When we got back to the towers and told our hosts who we had met they knew exactly who he was. It is very humbling to realize how many people know at least some English. I have been here for almost 1 month and I can say 4 things in Georgian. If it wasn't for their knowledge of English we would just be smiling and shrugging. I feel grateful to them and a little embarassed at how we often expect others to learn our language but are not as willing to learn theirs.

Welcome to the late 20th Century!

Technically we officially have internet at the house. But only technically. One might think that four men would be able to rig something that was reasonably well designed and reliable. But then you'd be wrong. Because we're living in Georgia -- a country that appears to just be entering the 20th century. Much like the state, I suppose.

The internet is "provided" by a dish that points at the TV tower across town. Since I conveniently live in a house that is on a hill with a SUPER clear line of sight to this tower you'd think it would be reliable. Reliable that is until the power blips a little bit, or as happened today, it rains. Now, it may do just fine in normal drizzle or even steady rain, we have no idea yet. Today, after about 45 minutes of feeling like she was on X, Meg was pushed back into the bunker, cut off from the world as it started to rain.

It rained. And then it REALLY rained. Apparently cars were floating down the hill like logs and homes on a California hillside. She bailed on work due to the lack of cabbies driving Arks and even after the rain subsided, I had to fight drivers on the way home from work. These guys make Maryland drivers look like geniuses. (Go talk to Strange Ground Chuck for more info on geniuses. I hear he's in Mensa.) Normally, they're reasonably decent about stop lights. Today, once the light turns red, they all flooded into the intersection. As if traffic was going to clear out for them magically after they jammed it up. I almost got out and walked. That is until I realized I had the big D plates on the car and just went through the intersection in the middle of a red light and pushed my way through. What are they going to do, pull me over?

We'll talk more about driving here later, I'm sure. But for now, at least the internet is up. It's slow. It's finicky. But it's here. It's good, 'cause it means my posts can't possibly be random as much as usual (yeah right) otherwise, the internet will cut out in the middle of my post.

Better go before it starts to fog.

The Adventure Begins....

Well folks, this is definitely going to be quite the adventure. Meg arrived in the weeee hours of Wednesday morning (3:00am) which meant I had to get a cab out there and back because while I had figured out how to drive there during the day, there was no way I going to make the trip without any visual queues in the middle of a sleep induced stupor. Thankfully, it all worked out and she's here.

Internet access has yet to be figured out for the residences, so right now, I'm posting from an Internet cafe. GEL 2 / hour = $1.25 per hour. Not too shabby. Catch is, Google appears to be smart enough to try to use Russian. Which doesn't really work out so well for me. It took me a few minutes to figure out how to post here.

Meg's still working on her first week here, while I'm pushing into my second week. So far, we've figured out how to:

• Buy groceries (a bit comical I'm sure since there's a lot of pointing and use of calculators to explain how much things cost)




• Buy gas. Also an adventure as we seem to have moved to NJ where we can't pump our own gas. (The similiarities between Tbilisi & NJ are kinda creepy, but I'll save that for a future post.)




• Get air put in the tires of the truck




• Figure out how to park the pickup in the super tight garage




• Order dinner at restaurants




• I've found the local beach, but Meg hasn't gone yet. (Was hoping to do that today, but the weather is kinda cool and overcast today, so maybe next weekend.)




• Get a cab to take us where we want to go




• Get a cab to take us to places we don't want to go. (Go figure, this is easier than the one above.)




• Get cell phones working in town that don't cost us a fortune in roaming charges. (Email us if you want the #.)




• Found a horse track that is being used by folks to run around. 1.8 km around of C&O trail type of running. Not bad to start with and pretty close to home.

It's quite humbling how challenging things can be when you can't speak the language, can't read the signs and generally are living in your own world. Meg feels pretty vulnerable right now, but I think that'll wear off as she gets used to living here. She's shown quite the adventuresome spirit so far, and seems to be increasing her confidence as it goes on.

Work was SUPER busy for me for the first week with a turn over and a number of visitors showing up that I had to help take care of. That's finished now, so I can finally work on settling into a routine. The new Embassy is GEORGOUS and certainly makes it easy for me. We'll see what Meg's office is like, but she already has two half-days scheduled this week and is looking forward to being gainfully employed in the city. (Colombo Charlie I'm sure knows all about this problem.)

We'll go to our first hash on Sunday and hopefully meet some folks from outside the Embassy community there. We've started making friends with random folks that I've found at the cafeteria and through the CLO, and I'm sure it'll be very soon before our social schedule is packed again.

Ok, I've rambled enough for today. Again, as soon as I have legit internet, I'll try to post more frequently and some photos. Hope all is well for you guys out there.

Pete's Outdoorsman Honor Badge Recinded

A quick update on my friend Pete who did the below trip to Rainier. We've been good buddies for quite a while and he's got quite a history of doing outdoorsy stuff. I like to think I can handle myself outdoors, but Pete certainly has more experience than I do.

Well, the other day, we were out on a camping trip which involved a bit of a hike, followed by lunch then tubing. Well, Pete decided he needed to take care of some business in the woods (kinda like a bear, if you know what I mean). He figured he'd use the river to clean up a bit. Well.. he's squatting there, and looks up and sees this group of perfect sized leaves to use for TP instead.

A few hours later, he wonders why his butt it kinda itchy. I mean, really itchy. Hrm... it was a group of three leaves..... uh oh.

That's right. Pete wiped his butt with Poison Ivy. We've all made the jokes but he did it. It took me a week to write this because I was laughing my butt off so hard I could hardly type. He's feeling a little better.. doc says it should clear up in about a week.

Sorry Pete, but I had to post it somewhere.

Mt. Rainier or Bust

So a few weekends ago, two friends of mine (Pete & Stephen) along with 2 friends of Pete's (Kelsey and Joe) made an attempt at the Kautz route up Mt. Rainier. I had a great time and despite getting sick and a failed summit bid due to high winds and slow progress, I would absolutely do it again.





The trip started out kind of on a bad note when we finally hit the trail at 9pm rather than our goal of 5pm. We eventually got a little lost on the snow covered trail and instead of following a relatively easy series of switchbacks up to a ridgeline, we went straight up 40+ degree slippery rock/mud for about 300 feet -- did I mention that the 3 guys from DC had already been up for 20+ hrs at this point? Well, we eventually made it to camp, had our dinner and went to sleep about 2am. (Thursday: Van Trump park at about 5400 ft.)





We got moving in the morning, had food, broke down camp and got moving around noon. Weather was kinda crappy as it had drizzled overnight and we were clearly inside a cloud. Visibility was terrible, but at least it wasn't raining/snowing. We continued up the mountain, though route finding was challenging. We roped up when we saw a crevasse and at one point were a little surprised by a 100' rock outcropping that suddenly appeared about 100 feet ahead of us. (It was HUGE! But the visibility was so terrible we almost walked right into it!) We continued our trek, kicking in lots of steps into the mountain, putting on crampons and finally making it to camp at the lower Turtle snowfield at about 8:30pm. It was getting dark again while we set up camp, but all was well. (Friday: Turtle snowfield, 9300 ft.)



Saturday morning we woke up to see the georgeous view we had around us. The Wilson glacier along with the Kautz ice walls made the place awesome. However, during the night, I had noticed that Pete & Stephen both had sweatshirts and hats on while sleeping and I was in a t-shirt, sweating my butt off, shaking. (Can we say fever?) In the morning, we made the call that no matter how much better I felt, it probably wasn't a good plan for me to be making a summit attempt. Pete & Stephen decided to make their attempt at 9pm that night, so we just putzed around camp, taking naps, reading a bit, and gathering water. Overall a very relaxing day.






As the day went on though, the early morning sunny skies above the cloud line disappeared as the clouds rose to our level and produced flurries and high winds throughout much of the day. By about 6pm the snow had stopped but the wind was still pretty strong. At 9pm, the wind had diminished a bit, and Pete & Stephen decided to make their run for the top. They didn't move as fast as they had hoped though, and on their way up, bumped into a crew that was spending the night near by. This crew had left camp at 5am, made it up to 13,000 ft where they sat for 6 hours waiting for the wind to break. It never did so they turned around and went back to camp. Pete & Stephen continued their attempt, but after reaching about 11,700 ft, (Camp Hazard area) they weren't making their time goals, were getting quite tired and decided to come back to camp. They arrived back at camp at about 3am. (Saturday night, lower Turtle Snowfield.)





Sunday morning the weather was about the same. Decent views of Mt. Baker from our location, but definite clouds beneath us. We packed up and moved out of camp around 10am. descending was definitely much faster than on the way up and we were able to get some glissading in, though the snow was very slushy and sticky so it was kinda slow going. On the way down, we found the thinning in the woods were we got a little lost on the way up and confirmed that the trail was definitely much easier than our route, though it would have been nearly impossible to find at night. Even during the day it would have been challenging. We arrived back at the cars around 4pm, (we took it easy taking quite a few photos along the way), packed up the truck and headed home. (Sunday night: Portland Holiday Inn, 400 ft)







Monday morning = plane ride so back home we go. Lots of fun had by all, I met two new friends through Pete and had a good time catching up with good friends. I also seem to have found another expensive sport that I enjoy. Though if I continue to do this, don't be surprised if I start hauling a splitboard snowboard with me.

What the heck was I thinkin'

One would think I was drunk at the time, but this isn't one of those stories. Some reason I decided to start a blog just to see what I can do. Here goes.