babies, biases & patriarchy

A shameless inclusion from a few months back.

There's no way around it. I'm biased. But I believe I have a truly adorable embodiment of babyhood in my little guy. It would not be an exaggeration to say that when he was born, it was like a new star was discovered in the universe to which we reoriented our existence. And I'm including the girls in this too -- the whole family -- we LOVE this boy.

More recent pic of little guy looking virile.

The baby has always gotten the lion's share of attention in the family, so at first I didn't notice, but now that we've been here nearly a month, there's no denying that this guy garners more attention in Georgia because he's a boy. Georgia, to put it bluntly, is a patriarchal country. The Georgian lifestyle is traditional and family-oriented. Most unmarried adult women continue to live with their parents until marriage, rendering fathers control over their employment and lifestyle, and when women marry, they move in with their new husband's family. It's very common for women to stay in the home and not have a job even after their children are grown.

The balance of power may be headed in a new direction, but it's a long way from arriving. The men are polite and gracious . . . and used to being in charge. There's a real sense of exclusive fraternity here that I never picked up on in the politically-correct States.

With our driver, having second thoughts about Georgian women squeezing his chubbalicious thighs.

Georgian men (and women, for that matter) love little baby boys that will grow up to be other men. I have all three children with me much of the time and it's clear that the girls are fine and well, but the boy (oh boy!) is really a spectacle, particularly if he does something distinctly masculine, like grunt, throw something, or smack a nearby face. I've seen stone-faced Georgian cable repairmen, security agents, and handymen melt in a second when baby let's out a well-timed uh!  None of my (subjectively) adorable children have ever before commanded this kind of attention.

Hangin tough.

We have yet to know what long-term results this developing situation will yield. He has always seemed very boyish to me already, will he turn super-macho? Grow an early beard? With two very girly sisters let's hope for now he can at least bring balance to our newly-oriented universe.

Pekini Avenue

Saturday brought a welcome change of pace. We decided to do a little exploring on foot.
 

Pekini Avenue is a busy main street in Saburtalo with shops, hotels, churches, parks, and traffic.

We stopped at this little park along the way to enjoy the view,

find refreshment,

and indulge in some gummy candies.

In covered pavilions men of all ages gather

for an afternoon game of chess.

Flowers are sold on the street,

causing 7-year-old girls to wax theatrical.

The boys stuck together

for our afternoon walk.

Creature comforts

After living out of our suitcases for a month, the first shipment of our things arrived and it was like Christmas morning. It's a small shipment meant to hold us over for the next 2-3 months (let's hope it's not really that long) until the rest arrives by boat.

They supply us with what they call a "welcome kit" when we arrive, which has a number of semi-decent and other nearly disposable items to use temporarily. After a few weeks, I'm ready to kick the kit to the curb. Call me materialistic or what you will, but it's a good feeling to see your stuff again. Here are a few of my current favorite things:

My battery-powered clocks. I packed them all. It's a challenge to adjust to a new time zone when you never know what time it is.

My favorite kitchen utensils, especially the garlic press (oh! the garlic press!) and the can opener.

Storage bins. We packed some things in these bins and now can use them for sorting laundry. No more piles of clothes on the floor.

Shoes! I only packed 2 pairs, so I am relishing the variety.

Little guy's high chair. We've been feeding him scraps from the table like a puppy, so even he was happy to see this.

My bathrobe. Hubby got his too. Feels like home.

The most highly anticipated item by far was my comforter and pillows. The rock-hard mattress, pancake pillows, and single-layer felt blanket they provided left me almost crying every night for something soft.

Today I offer no insight into life in Georgia, but with the arrival of these things I feel a little closer to calling Georgia home.

Soviet Legacy

The ridge line slicing through the bottom third of the frame separates Vake (foreground) from Saburtalo (background).

We observed the federal holiday by taking a driving tour in part of Tbilisi. The city is situated in a river valley surrounded on all sides by mountains that provide lovely vistas from many perspectives. Although there were natural and historical sites to take in, what interested me most was the ubiquitous Communist-era construction.

Towering in the morning light.

These buildings cover the mountain's ascent in Saburtalo, a district of Tbilisi. From a distance they shine like white limestone. The sight reminded me of my first view of Jerusalem many years ago.

Up close they are less appealing and more, well, peeling. And cracking and crumbling. They call these apartment highrises Brezhnev's buildings, they top off at 16 floors and are the legacy of the latter Soviet leader. These are not to be confused with Krushchev's buildings, the Khrushchyovka, which never exceed 5 stories and were built earlier, with pre-fab concrete walls, no elevators, and a 25-year (long since expired) shelf life.

Growing up in 1980s America, I never heard about Communism without a reference to oppression and evil.  It was understood that every member of the Soviet Union was like a prisoner that longed to escape, probably to America; and every Soviet pursuit was tantamount to an act of war. Consequently, the act of witnessing in person these innocuous, protective structures, full of striving people, brought a profound new awareness.

I'll admit the first time I saw these towers it was hard to think they were anything but ugly, but they've grown on me. There is some mysterious appeal to their motley uniformity. And despite the flawed system that Soviet Communism turned out to be, I have to stand in awe of the noble attempt to provide affordable (free) housing for every individual.

Silent Giant

Intersection

During the months leading up to our departure I felt like I was in the midst of a carnival of noise and action, surrounded by dozens of attractions vying for my attention. When we arrived here it was like being dropped into a dark silent room. At first it was a relief, but as the past two weeks have carried on it has started to feel stifling and I wonder what I am supposed to do. My family has jobs and school to occupy them, but I have precious little to do, and without the language I have no voice, and no independence.

Quite often in life you have a general idea of where you are headed and what to expect in your future, but at certain junctures you find you have no idea what is in store. At all. In some ways it's paralyzing, What am I going to do with myself?, but in other ways it's exciting and empowering I can do anything! I reached a critical juncture many years ago which left me broken, so I hope to learn from my previous mistakes and rely more heavily this time on faith, decision, and action.

I was looking over this map of Tbilisi and an image keeps coming to my mind of an intersecting point of roads, all leading to yet unknown choices.  I must have left the dark room because now I'm circling the roundabout, weighing my options. These past two weeks have felt both like an eternity and not nearly long enough to make any lasting decisions.

New Friends

After one week in a new school, the girls were invited to a birthday party,

complete with decorations

and tennis lessons.

It was a brilliant idea: chaos within an enclosed space.

And birthday bedlam, we learned, is the same in any language.

Finally the candle was lit, a wish was made,

and the birthday fun peaked with the sharing of cake.

But most importantly, new friendship began

in lovely Vake Park.

a touch rustic

I don't want to make any sweeping generalizations about life in Georgia until we've been here a while--because I'm sure my views will evolve with time and exposure--but it would not be premature to say that life here is more rustic than where we came from. Two examples:

I have to preface the first by explaining that we hired a driver to get us around. It sounds posh, but really we just don't have our car yet and drivers here are affordable. Our driver, undoubtedly like many in the business, knows every nook and cranny of the city. The other day as he was showing us around, the baby got really fussy--he was hungry and we were far from home. We suggested he stop at any corner and we'd jump out quickly. He asked us what the baby would like, and we thought bread would be easy enough. There were numerous street vendors and corner shops available. He sped past what we thought were many perfectly suitable options and swerved onto a nameless side street, then pulled into an even more obscure alley. We thought surely it was too narrow for the car to even fit through, but that wasn't what he was trying to do. On our left was a cinderblock building with a rough-hewn window. He stopped the car, reached up to the window, tossed in a few coins, and a burly man inside handed him a piping hot, crispy-on-the-outside, chewy-on-the-inside, perfect specimen of bread.

This Yoda-shaped marvel, Shoti, is delicious and dangerous.

It was like a drive-thru, Georgian style, except he had to reverse his way out of the alley. Needless to say, the baby was satisfied (as were we, with our choice of driver).

Example number two: a friend of mine picked up some groceries for us the other day, including lettuce. When I went to wash it, I noticed that it was bound with a peculiar cord, and for a moment I thought an overly resourceful Georgian had resorted to a coated strip of wire to tie my lettuce.

I take dirt on my lettuce as a good sign.

But as I unwound the cord I discovered that it was in fact a flexible branch. Wow. SUPER rustic!

I love that my lettuce was tied with a stick.

And let me just add that this lettuce came not from a street vendor (that would hardly phase me), but from a shiny swanky western-style grocery store. No doubt this is just the beginning of the rustic delights Georgia has to offer.

First. Sabbath

"Mommy, how come you're always right and Daddy's always wrong?" Sweet, sweet innocence.

Unfortunately I did not get any pictures of our first day of church. We attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints which has one (count 'em one) branch for the entire country. Missionaries were only introduced here in 2005, so the Church is in its infancy; and because many of the materials are not yet translated into Georgian, it's a multilingual affair. The chapel is a rented building with a clean exterior that is otherwise quite unremarkable. The interior I found to be lovely and, frankly, more impressive (this appears to be a theme in Georgia). It has a marble bannister on the staircase leading to an open high-ceilinged chapel lined with tall windows. It's small but just the right size for the congregation. The primary children meet on the top floor which has several rooms including a stage. The main floor has classrooms, bathrooms, and a kitchen.

The meeting is conducted primarily in Georgian, with intermittent use of Russian, but when it comes to the hymns, it's a sloshy Georgian/Russian/English free-for-all. During the talks we wear headphones on which missionaries provide us with English translations. The girls thought the headphones were cool for maybe five minutes. All the people seemed to really love the baby though (there were very few children), and they all gave his chubby legs a squeeze as they passed by. Overall they were very gracious and kind, we made quite a stir when we walked in. I conversed semi-successfully with a number of people in a sort of English/pidgin-Russian/sign-language mix, I hope to vastly improve my language skills during our three-year tour.

But despite all these quirky new things, I have to say that the one thing on my mind now is how normal and similar it is in most ways. The people were warm and inviting; the chapel was organized, peaceful, and had a familiar spirit; and as a congregation we worshiped God in the same way I have my whole life. I look forward to fostering meaningful relationships and finding ways to serve.

snow days, grey haze & birthdays

We recently awoke to this snowy scene. When the sky is clear you can see mountains above the rooftops.

As the day wore on we remarked that many of the nearby houses resemble the color of old snow slush.

We celebrated our first birthday in Georgia. We planned a simple affair, I sent my husband to the corner shop for a ready-made cake. He came home empty-handed, but with a smile.

Fifteen minutes later the shop owner dropped by with this bakery-fresh cake (and candle), welcoming us to the neighborhood. Our first taste of Georgian hospitality.

Little guy couldn't wait to get his hands on it. The cake was delicious -- and burned going down, we think there was a little something extra in the icing.

Big sister shared a few words of prose about her best friend, the birthday girl. All in all a lovely time.

most days we just lay around ze castle

This house is filled with things we've never had before: a fireplace,

a sweeping front staircase,

decorative parkay floors,

a swirling staircase,

a spacious master suite,

substantial safety features on windows,

(edible!) grapes on terrace,

and enough s p a c e  f o r  e v e r y o n e.

It's only been a few days, but we are enjoying some serious down time. After months of operating at a frenetic pace, nobody seems to mind that we spend a lot of time at home. And by home, I mean our ridiculously large new house in which we could fit five of our old houses. This house is really lovely and peculiar at the same time. This post is undoubtedly the first of many highlighting the many details I am still discovering.

Unlike our former wood-and-plaster home which creaked, groaned, and shifted with the seasons, this one is built of concrete, as many of the local homes are, and it's like living inside a rock. It's clearly built for entertaining, so hopefully we'll soon have enough friends here to fill the space. I believe the bones are good, but there have been certain additions that leave me dumbfounded. If I had to describe the house in two words, they would be tacky elegance.

We are adjusting to the 9-hour time difference. The first few days were messy, one night we all woke up ravenous at 3am, so I made a second dinner. I realized later on that it was, in fact, dinner time where we came from. Things are better now. The girls love the new space, but baby is still uncertain. I think the swirling staircase will eventually win him over.