tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58033643193643562682024-03-05T11:55:18.107+02:00Midnight Train to Georgia 2011Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-65967800033404513222012-06-23T16:28:00.003+03:002012-06-23T16:28:53.077+03:00The Long Goodbye Part 8 - Back to the village and to Gori<b>Saturday 23rd June 2012</b><br />
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We ran for the 7.30 train from Kaspi to Kareli which was no mean feat with two dodgy suitcases and a hangover. As is often the way in Georgia we were told the wrong time and it didn't turn up till nearer 8 so we were safe. The train is slow, slow, slow but the views are magnificent and the seats comfy. One of our unfulfilled plans was to travel in both directions on the "Electro" train to see where it took us as it seemed to be one of life mysteries. Anyway to tempt your appetite here is the view from the train, somewhere in Georgia. If there were station signs at one time then they have faded into oblivion - even the locals don't know where they are.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The view on the way to Kvemo Kvedureti</i></b></td></tr>
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We called into the village school but it was quiet and subdued and uneventful. Katie was on an excursion and the year 11s were doing exams and there were a few students in the playground but that was it. We had packed all our winter clothes into a suitcase and anything else we didn't think we could take with us due to the 20kg weight allowance and we left this at Juliet's house. We called into Manana's to say our final goodbyes and they immediately started to prepare a feast - make khachapuri and to grab and kill a chicken. We were adamant that we had to catch the next marshutka and that we had just come to say "Gamajoba Nakvamdis" (Hello Goodbye). We were already feeling the effects of our late night and early start and we still had loads to do. Juliet had told us that Eka was expecting a baby and so as we left I touched her belly and said "Good luck!" She burst into a fit of giggles as even though she didn't understand the actual words she was very good at intuiting what was meant in all our "conversations".<br />
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Onward to Gori to hand in our phones and MacMillan Books and to collect our Letters of Recommendation from the Educational Resource Centre (ERC) Khatuna has been a great support during our time here and it will seem funny not to have her around anymore. Even though I had emailed and texted our arrival date and time, the letters had not appeared and so I was allowed to keep my phone and to hand it in at the Ministry of education in Tbilisi where we could collect the documents. Sigh!!! but it at least meant that we could contact people for a little longer.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Good bye Khatuna! (TLG Co-ordinator)</i></b></td></tr>
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We really felt like we were on holiday after we'd handed in our books and so went to a restaurant, sat outside and drank beer and ate Khingali, kebab, khachapuri and salad. It was wonderful. Gori looked a whole lot different to what it did usually! We simply sat and enjoyed.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The latest fashions in Gori</i></b></td></tr>
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Couldn't resist taking a picture of this shop front. Now the summer is here, young Georgian women are abandoning black and jeans and donning all kinds of things! Which era would you say this was? Very 80's? late 70's? 90's? You decide.<br />
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Now we had to get back to Kaspi and pack up for real, plus clean the apartment. We got back at 3 at were hoping to catch the 5 o'clock marshutka but we couldn't do it! We made it for the 5.30 but couldn't be as thorough in the cleaning department! Avery hot marshutka ride then we had to drage the suitcases, rucksacks and laptop backs through the market to the metro underpass to weigh the luggage and see how much we were over. There is a woman who stands there all day calling out "come and weigh yourself only 10 tetris!" Or something like that anyway! Coming here at Christmas we paid £315 excess and we just couldn't do it this time. We had to lose about 15kg. We got a taxi to Dani's and we were SO EXHAUSTED by then. We showered and went to bed basically and were asleep before our heads touched the pillow.<br />
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The next morning Dani made us a great breakfast - an english fry-up! What a treat for our last day in Georgia!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Real Bacon - Dani cooks English for breakfast</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>"Wot No Tea?!" Champagne is the best thing to drink first thing</i></b>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Everyone got bored with waiting for me to keep my eyes <br />open for a picture so we used superglue.</i></b></td></tr>
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We had a nice last day. It was 42 degrees! We met up with Paula for a last chat and a felafal (yum), got our yellow fever jabs and bought lots of drugs as they are so cheap. We now have 8 months of malaria tablets. Went to the Ministry of Education and handed the phone and received our letters of recommendation and martin collected his completion certificate. Back to Dani's to be ruthless with the luggage and went to bed for a short sleep and before we knew it, we were off to the airport.<br />
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We will miss Dani - she is a character and a half and we always had a good time with her.<br />
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We only had a 20kg allowance as it turns out not he 23kg that was on the website and so we rearranged our luggage so that my coat and our rucksacks weighed a ton - well an extra 6kg - but our checked luggage was acceptably over.<br />
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Our time in Georgia over, we boarded our Aerosvit plane for Kiev then Gatwick, excited and exhausted.Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-7102930180553058382012-06-23T16:28:00.002+03:002012-06-23T16:28:44.622+03:00The Long Goodbye Part 7 - TLGers in Kaspi<b>Saturday 23rd June 2012</b><br />
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We were in a bit of a state back in the apartment as there was so much to pack and clean. Our last day in school was Tuesday and later that day someone was coming over to collect the printer and someone else to collect the last Magtie stick which was our only access to the internet. We knew we were leaving then! Not considering this level of disruption sufficient we had also invited a bunch of local TLGers for dinner and we had promised an English roast dinner as our farewell. So we had to clear up, pack stuff, shop and then cook ! Unfortunately, The TLG co-ordinator rang at this point and told us that the landlord wanted to come over and check over the apartment and discuss how much our bills should be for when we leave. I tried to get out of it, explaining all the things we had to do but it had to be and so he was due round at 4.30 in the middle of dinner. Oh well!<br />
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Of course it all went off ok! I cooked roast chicken with paxo stuffing, roast potatoes, carrots and stir-fried cabbage with onions and garlic. Yum yum. And then double bloody yum with an apricot crumble and yes the rumours were true - custard!!!! Treble yum yum.<br />
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Oh we had two unexpected Mexicans turn up but we fitted them in as well! They were friends of one of our guests and were making their way across to Telavi to do summer school. Unluckily for them they have been placed in the mountains and have no winter clothes (coming from me-hi-ko) and so raided the pile of "Martin's winter clothes to be taken to the village" pile which luckily for us meant that we had less to carry the next day. I threw in (literally) the remaining hot water bottle we hadn't sold. I don't think they quite believe that it will get that cold as it is really hot at the moment but we shall see.....<br />
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We had a good time. These are TLGers who have been coming round, eating, drinking, watching films, and are great conversationalists and we always have a good time with them and so it was yet another goodbye.<br />
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The landlord and his family timed their visit at a convenient lull in the conversation and I was in fighting mode prepared fully intending to not pay any utilities bills this month as we had paid well over the odds the first month. However, they were only expecting us to pay 2 weeks rent which was an added bonus and so I caved in and therefore all parties were satisfied that they had maintained their position!<br />
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We had a long day ahead of us the day after and had to make an early start. Our two overnight guests were asked to wash the dishes, give the cut flowers to the neighbours and then throw the key through the open bedroom window. Then to bed.Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-87640036378895701362012-06-23T16:28:00.001+03:002012-06-23T16:28:37.761+03:00The Long Goodbye part 6 - Kaspi School<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Saturday 23rd June 2012</b><br />
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Our last working day was Tuesday 12th June and so consisted on "Goodbye" Lessons. I felt a little sad as I was just getting into the swing of things and would have liked to have continued to build on what I had learned about them all. But in truth, I have done my time here and am looking forward to our next adventures. Maybe if we had no real plans it would have been different. I felt very, very sad at leaving the children in the village as I was very attached to them but possibly with a much bigger school in Kaspi, those attachments are slower to development. I will miss my lazy boys from the younger years and my year 6 groups certainly. I was given bunches of lillies and roses from all classes!<br />
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In terms of lesson content - games were the order of the day - games and singing! With year 3a my favourite little lazy boy is Giorgi (front right) a handsome boy who has ants in his pants. The girls in this class were particularly conscientious and far better than many of the older students.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Goodbye year 3a!</i></b></td></tr>
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Year 2b were also a good class but with only 1 lesson a week with them I didn't develop a strong attachment.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Goodbye Year 2b!</i></b></td></tr>
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Year 3b had a very broad ability mix and were hard to teach.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Goodbye Year 3b!</i></b></td></tr>
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The year 5a class were boisterous and charming. The more active activities I could find for them to do, the better! Lessons always seemed to work well with this class. They didn't get tired of the activity below where they had to choose one of the actions on the board and act it out so that the class could guess what it was. There were lots of great kids in this class who were enthusiastic and responsive!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Last Lesson - Can you guess what I'm doing?</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Goodbye Year 5a!</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Goodbye year 6b!</i></b></td></tr>
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With my year 6 classes I showed a youtube clip about making Seaside Rock. Many of you reading this probably wont know about it either, but it is a great tradition in coastal towns in England where seaside rock is sold to the day-trippers and holiday makers to take home as a treat or as gifts for friends. The stick of sweetness has a core of letters that spell the name of the town throughout it. So after the video and a slide show of photos from Southend-on-Sea we chopped up some genuine seaside rock and they had all had a bit!
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRyQCx9oByQJbRvnLqpfUQeidPttX1P6FsBoj2cDq_QclNOMc6oxXo5SKj2sq_i-l4UMsCBeIMIrGQKXcFZKnaBRub8cPecooWGDD8pOKB5YkFsCNQWo2rZg05wt0PT9cvGb3qBBi-5Xr/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRyQCx9oByQJbRvnLqpfUQeidPttX1P6FsBoj2cDq_QclNOMc6oxXo5SKj2sq_i-l4UMsCBeIMIrGQKXcFZKnaBRub8cPecooWGDD8pOKB5YkFsCNQWo2rZg05wt0PT9cvGb3qBBi-5Xr/s400/012.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Lesson for today - How to make seaside rock and then eat it!</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_AjvFbOBvSbs8_-OuZvx0jOd-QpH8eb7-HJQuvWHxPni-hx59_yDb_R9dE1vs_JCdf5jvKGDYkExgoQ8IjcM5F8NsnObmiYXNS5H8N83ME5F82ccI1VxVfnDd4lokzhFS6wclgJ0Lqk-A/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_AjvFbOBvSbs8_-OuZvx0jOd-QpH8eb7-HJQuvWHxPni-hx59_yDb_R9dE1vs_JCdf5jvKGDYkExgoQ8IjcM5F8NsnObmiYXNS5H8N83ME5F82ccI1VxVfnDd4lokzhFS6wclgJ0Lqk-A/s320/013.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The Jury's out! Natia and Ani are considering the merits of seaside rock.</i></b></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinb9C-rnvsEjGq7fJt3toZZVUEC_EglGuQnhxsronuHKsfJLS_LGabczZR6bJTIUEiDzSZJC6cK1rZsmz7gw-Ou1WjdheBIetdwo0Cz5OO3xhTMBfJ10KdqNfBZShQ_ylGmw_z95_ItUQp/s1600/014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinb9C-rnvsEjGq7fJt3toZZVUEC_EglGuQnhxsronuHKsfJLS_LGabczZR6bJTIUEiDzSZJC6cK1rZsmz7gw-Ou1WjdheBIetdwo0Cz5OO3xhTMBfJ10KdqNfBZShQ_ylGmw_z95_ItUQp/s320/014.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Koba and Luka give seaside rock the thumbs up!</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNBujl_1PnwVGevbYFLl0e3nAm_Rx7vw8evi_OeSQ-F7LSfDgSWfIwqso-oqa33Ba_6nPmkdN5WObCsDZAUqew5V-3xBXeGyRnOFD83KhSsR1efVd5KhxQz8viYGDDtt5USpXKkXS2bPqg/s1600/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNBujl_1PnwVGevbYFLl0e3nAm_Rx7vw8evi_OeSQ-F7LSfDgSWfIwqso-oqa33Ba_6nPmkdN5WObCsDZAUqew5V-3xBXeGyRnOFD83KhSsR1efVd5KhxQz8viYGDDtt5USpXKkXS2bPqg/s320/015.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Thumbs up from all but Giorgi who just wants to <br />write in the answers from the test they just had</i></b>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFgzEXg7maPL6EtJJR6gfDGIvHJKv3YIMyilrveXuQXwm7hvPHuqfYf3eu-YtIKr0fy7cg0xlJ8y8f8e_jVOMV5cU_Lz0SeyjMLFjk00-DWlkRA76luyyXQ2NZ4pzSvxFvwp4M62IwWm4/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFgzEXg7maPL6EtJJR6gfDGIvHJKv3YIMyilrveXuQXwm7hvPHuqfYf3eu-YtIKr0fy7cg0xlJ8y8f8e_jVOMV5cU_Lz0SeyjMLFjk00-DWlkRA76luyyXQ2NZ4pzSvxFvwp4M62IwWm4/s320/016.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goodbye Year 6a!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDeIP8rzproA9TjIJs0xk9ZZ5B0nvQS_IdsfOOANCK9MEEUhZl7MS1PrtrEAuqkj1KXHE6fDfg47XpSqdnV6o0WDGDgdhmo76LuyPWHvIz3QEuGN0XprOkop1WpQVwXOlDTcvyc-mHcnFl/s1600/018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDeIP8rzproA9TjIJs0xk9ZZ5B0nvQS_IdsfOOANCK9MEEUhZl7MS1PrtrEAuqkj1KXHE6fDfg47XpSqdnV6o0WDGDgdhmo76LuyPWHvIz3QEuGN0XprOkop1WpQVwXOlDTcvyc-mHcnFl/s320/018.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Goodbye some more year 6a!</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3pRG_ElqXBXLpLbrW1BemZ_GFpzVSC-hX1G1Jpd9oxrLGBdTPJR3Q-SG-Z7yaSNbtCsFH2HMcrvvaGU1pA0DbZKA5iZUBkpQuM7vzq2mcjtLAVz3GBXX-niLLq7UxOdOuHm9G_s9s7y3/s1600/019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3pRG_ElqXBXLpLbrW1BemZ_GFpzVSC-hX1G1Jpd9oxrLGBdTPJR3Q-SG-Z7yaSNbtCsFH2HMcrvvaGU1pA0DbZKA5iZUBkpQuM7vzq2mcjtLAVz3GBXX-niLLq7UxOdOuHm9G_s9s7y3/s320/019.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>No idea what this young lady is doing lol!</i></b></td></tr>
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A final picture was taken outside the school gates as we said more goodbyes. Unfortunately for Maka she had to come over later that day to mediate with the landlords as to how much we owed them!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfhKCP7xovuj2dqO0fpZSj8fHyEIoxT42Po__7noPv-fmPxVUvUkEfbHfIeIt6nvEHhqT1IqE5LJSkCbf85qZzOKj-84j7v8POGFQ34vWWXyCjC4YNi2Tx57y03sFFepjHGkRrhGeRVYhJ/s1600/029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfhKCP7xovuj2dqO0fpZSj8fHyEIoxT42Po__7noPv-fmPxVUvUkEfbHfIeIt6nvEHhqT1IqE5LJSkCbf85qZzOKj-84j7v8POGFQ34vWWXyCjC4YNi2Tx57y03sFFepjHGkRrhGeRVYhJ/s200/029.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Goodbye Maria, Tamta and Maka!</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYeA0-9VbGhvYUErrGWCbIN3fmU8sqvDpW1chytq60FZzzFC_knz3-SjmG-aNOcPjGSL8RRwiOBUTdPcsaBnu_BQmz-hfuy4UHeTLPdA_Tqtdd15rgnoUef4nNRV5_tXLmyS9ojKHJCEuc/s1600/028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYeA0-9VbGhvYUErrGWCbIN3fmU8sqvDpW1chytq60FZzzFC_knz3-SjmG-aNOcPjGSL8RRwiOBUTdPcsaBnu_BQmz-hfuy4UHeTLPdA_Tqtdd15rgnoUef4nNRV5_tXLmyS9ojKHJCEuc/s200/028.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Goodbye Tamta and Maria!</i></b></td></tr>
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</div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-47487163616479322382012-06-22T13:47:00.005+03:002012-06-22T13:47:51.646+03:00The Long Goodbye Part 5 - Completion Ceremony<br />
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<b>Sunday 10<sup>th</sup> June<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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The “Good-byes” keep on
coming thick and fast with the Completion Ceremony on Friday at the Sheraton
Hotel. Transport provided, with plenty
of delicious food and the chance to say goodbye to those people whom you have
met at various points during our time in Georgia. Martin decided not to go as he had been asked
to be a judge at the Georgia’s got Talent show at his school and he did miss
out.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5PP_7TLWjSrn-s_D2D4bklKx-QqzAi6waRJrlueoZRBA5XYQpmUMyUE9MZZedB5I5xQXwP0kG7Wlz8an0jDnlhpQvthOmkZ6d2QSAiQN4_WddY7iVWKkz7XuE8nbAuTpfaCy2ceJ1ixxq/s1600/057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5PP_7TLWjSrn-s_D2D4bklKx-QqzAi6waRJrlueoZRBA5XYQpmUMyUE9MZZedB5I5xQXwP0kG7Wlz8an0jDnlhpQvthOmkZ6d2QSAiQN4_WddY7iVWKkz7XuE8nbAuTpfaCy2ceJ1ixxq/s320/057.JPG" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Danielle</td></tr>
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It was a well thought
out event; we were seated according to region and then were called up to the
stage to receive our Completion Certificate.
We even had time for a practice run!
The Prime Minister and Minister of Education and Science was there and a
few people had been nominated to give a 2 minute speech each which added to the
occasion. There were four TLGers who
were still here after 2 years and part of the first group. They received a special award and their
marbles back. Spirits were high and
there was a vibrant energy as people were having their final chats, hugs and
photos. I had planned to meet up with
Paula (the person who told us about the Ethiopian School) but actually when it
came to it I just didn’t want to actually do it. In all the excitement about going home and
onto the next adventure the realisation comes that we are also leaving a lot
behind. I found I just didn’t want to
say goodbye to her. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3J4vWkLzrQEYTZTYCKjts5aJDUYZBDvSpWhfE2wdeff6t39Jwnt4gjYbU1uyocirfrYGqU5LiGy4dc6IA8CGWCIea48gPnRkNC8vK3WrEITNIUB1nAxK-hzHiYNByBaPkGCgrBRWSWSk4/s1600/090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3J4vWkLzrQEYTZTYCKjts5aJDUYZBDvSpWhfE2wdeff6t39Jwnt4gjYbU1uyocirfrYGqU5LiGy4dc6IA8CGWCIea48gPnRkNC8vK3WrEITNIUB1nAxK-hzHiYNByBaPkGCgrBRWSWSk4/s320/090.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left: Ren Sherrer, Caitlin O'Neill, Mark Coxen and me</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYWR-FHkduMOAIiF-8SaNnkvgtZhW3Pcp6P2fbveLPW1KShxENSAuCGWWZdiwkwjzvRNmqLTELHcT8CdnPXFGBa5uNZ6Ux3Z671g1_w4ZINK-1vUAyM_zTmdgto_WJjDl04Mui-0WUxm8/s1600/089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYWR-FHkduMOAIiF-8SaNnkvgtZhW3Pcp6P2fbveLPW1KShxENSAuCGWWZdiwkwjzvRNmqLTELHcT8CdnPXFGBa5uNZ6Ux3Z671g1_w4ZINK-1vUAyM_zTmdgto_WJjDl04Mui-0WUxm8/s320/089.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left: Ren Sherrer, Ellie Pullan, me and Justina Jenkins</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjH_AzWu4KmkVrKbLGwJ7pytfhMjXHGmF7-8SJuDdfF_vD-BdLEpqnL2Rot52M50VD0JV1RBNw63OO_Dje2m4wAXj5xlzhaXgos4w6vCwozEt4ZNmbKB6Ep1Sp33OsNinystp2Bf6Ebo30/s1600/088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjH_AzWu4KmkVrKbLGwJ7pytfhMjXHGmF7-8SJuDdfF_vD-BdLEpqnL2Rot52M50VD0JV1RBNw63OO_Dje2m4wAXj5xlzhaXgos4w6vCwozEt4ZNmbKB6Ep1Sp33OsNinystp2Bf6Ebo30/s320/088.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paula Diller and me</td></tr>
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I know I
have moaned and complained about Georgia and it has been tough, very tough at
times, when you put it into perspective it is a great country with great people
who are just struggling like the rest of us to get by and bring up our
families. It has been an amazing
experience, seeing the country, getting to know the people a little, working in
the schools and living in the grim conditions that your everyday Georgian
lives.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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NB when
Martin got to school he found out that Georgia’s Got Talent had been postponed
until Monday. That’s Georgia for you!<o:p></o:p></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-14936100945261511742012-06-22T13:47:00.004+03:002012-06-22T13:47:47.106+03:00The Long Goodbye Part 4 - Kaspi Teachers<br />
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<b>Sunday 10<sup>th</sup> June<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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On Thursday night we
went for a meal with the teachers from my school. We were treated like honoured guests, picked
up in a taxi and taken to a nice restaurant on the outskirts of Kaspi. The weather has been alternating between very
hot and sunny and humid thundery downpours and this was an evening of
downpours.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdM2YVsHolvBLOmutBls776P2DO78l2SV8nSgI_p9BisnPsBae3mXi_mXueToR3Oezfk7qxShH__-OFZWj3ENnMjycyZaIRSIn_yZJOs5LDiwxOVEMVTCliBFgecB4YfPSuB9AsdC8J33/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdM2YVsHolvBLOmutBls776P2DO78l2SV8nSgI_p9BisnPsBae3mXi_mXueToR3Oezfk7qxShH__-OFZWj3ENnMjycyZaIRSIn_yZJOs5LDiwxOVEMVTCliBFgecB4YfPSuB9AsdC8J33/s320/016.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Waiting for everyone to arrive</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg65ehPMHXpPsqPjoO9NbPZTkun13KDeu-iwUJIOm27Fk8H6LedApS6cB66_3TmBrzjPLN1t8QrxXfCiG61rzNbssJnbk930fufBwQvDKywewcj8P9LFXUthmoKDW3Nm3J6ZScet9yVOlm_/s1600/020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg65ehPMHXpPsqPjoO9NbPZTkun13KDeu-iwUJIOm27Fk8H6LedApS6cB66_3TmBrzjPLN1t8QrxXfCiG61rzNbssJnbk930fufBwQvDKywewcj8P9LFXUthmoKDW3Nm3J6ZScet9yVOlm_/s200/020.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Black is the in colour in Georgian fashion!</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglEJZxd0D-_D7U5t_0YyLchkSlIo1Lxsov1yHiLWSKH7_Wnuw2wiMowjJmeWLvv9OYcONdqvTouHqcrzokJNDzahmpcnAqF4OCDUpFmJkXnKHJLs2F4Ke-Icqfo_NiWRtg06eNv-6KPIbI/s1600/021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglEJZxd0D-_D7U5t_0YyLchkSlIo1Lxsov1yHiLWSKH7_Wnuw2wiMowjJmeWLvv9OYcONdqvTouHqcrzokJNDzahmpcnAqF4OCDUpFmJkXnKHJLs2F4Ke-Icqfo_NiWRtg06eNv-6KPIbI/s200/021.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>So many varieties of black!</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibyQMAI0aYaj78QazTUTgSJmKCyVyoIbRMXNnQAqniDJy_odFgthgCborrDIwbhcK0WcKslOgEa9334_1qJfzL9WQlemM-_IQ8N5k7wzJWFKTolnCBe53Iy_cZGGyiB91mWA1HSIik3vFX/s1600/017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibyQMAI0aYaj78QazTUTgSJmKCyVyoIbRMXNnQAqniDJy_odFgthgCborrDIwbhcK0WcKslOgEa9334_1qJfzL9WQlemM-_IQ8N5k7wzJWFKTolnCBe53Iy_cZGGyiB91mWA1HSIik3vFX/s200/017.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>A cozy corner to gossip</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizU3Z848kgtwCkc4Eo8d87TCnBE5asC9e8hJIP15_sMX2fLqtBmAPM8LUEY880cjx3oMV_KXjQGw9my1u98mZh5SeqbmNPGSRRto2U3PJJaZnR9hMWyQBPmon-xPpLq4T2oQRMruV3kjez/s1600/011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizU3Z848kgtwCkc4Eo8d87TCnBE5asC9e8hJIP15_sMX2fLqtBmAPM8LUEY880cjx3oMV_KXjQGw9my1u98mZh5SeqbmNPGSRRto2U3PJJaZnR9hMWyQBPmon-xPpLq4T2oQRMruV3kjez/s400/011.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>My Co-teachers from left, Maria, me, Tamta and Maka</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The restaurant was very
nice with a garden and pond outside and it was very pleasant just waiting for
the rest of the teachers to arrive. As
is often the case in Georgia the restaurant is not just one room but a number
of individual huts and we were placed in the largest room as there were 20 of
us. It was quite dark inside and then we
realised that there had been a power-cut and so eventually candles were brought
out. I think that was much nicer
anyway. The food was delicious and Maka
brought along her father’s wine. Nunu
was pronounced the Tamuda (toast master) for the evening and so it was a regular
supra with toasts to God, family, love, teachers and many more.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3lAUz_BKcqHVKO8LkK4asO4_8loqGBY2a3cfUY9w19_d4sciBzqcZgXWUhZs9JC7B7iC0I7qBOwCHOlu1ol66S5vxIQtnXysfxvS5oX7om-ftlliSJYyatjV5qqvJozLJ3LohTkdHr_rD/s1600/050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3lAUz_BKcqHVKO8LkK4asO4_8loqGBY2a3cfUY9w19_d4sciBzqcZgXWUhZs9JC7B7iC0I7qBOwCHOlu1ol66S5vxIQtnXysfxvS5oX7om-ftlliSJYyatjV5qqvJozLJ3LohTkdHr_rD/s400/050.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Powercut</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjwDFt8SwWXwKZ1ao7cbAuV36Ar8UfziUJ-bTkdMFVLjT4XywCoUISPkaiXYtQfsTLPTrKiDWndmnEmJ8tKM4Byn7MDYl4XkCHZezUomhxbrIxBpm-Coo4JrNcraJuw_YUhu4iOKxtHbF/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjwDFt8SwWXwKZ1ao7cbAuV36Ar8UfziUJ-bTkdMFVLjT4XywCoUISPkaiXYtQfsTLPTrKiDWndmnEmJ8tKM4Byn7MDYl4XkCHZezUomhxbrIxBpm-Coo4JrNcraJuw_YUhu4iOKxtHbF/s200/024.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fish followed <br />
by garlic chicken and pork casserole</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7PpFpY4MnQx6noIMYvIsdfFxtKVE-vtnQzAzUsdwzCh-W2dpz6mSqcMRYz9QgsTdAvDd014UyxrHvgLBy_TRsb7N5UhAv0x7VK0Y3umUTCYzzR-R3eYc8vCtuP2KuLwN1lhEDsFrhAUt9/s1600/022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7PpFpY4MnQx6noIMYvIsdfFxtKVE-vtnQzAzUsdwzCh-W2dpz6mSqcMRYz9QgsTdAvDd014UyxrHvgLBy_TRsb7N5UhAv0x7VK0Y3umUTCYzzR-R3eYc8vCtuP2KuLwN1lhEDsFrhAUt9/s200/022.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The food was lovely</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDubG-0BI6DmUk8XCXEw3Pg2X8Rr4aOxR9KevCB_xNZbcfPit8IOga5uGuJdq8JNCuGqzptXxxH2HI0w3ycmOPB_pZbHlEvzN_C0BjSIOrpXg8qJokRBcr5ee0ziNNXWHR0APpn-1eH1_2/s1600/023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDubG-0BI6DmUk8XCXEw3Pg2X8Rr4aOxR9KevCB_xNZbcfPit8IOga5uGuJdq8JNCuGqzptXxxH2HI0w3ycmOPB_pZbHlEvzN_C0BjSIOrpXg8qJokRBcr5ee0ziNNXWHR0APpn-1eH1_2/s200/023.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Salads and cornbread</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszs3nsPR_XNYPUiE8nVJ1cVjj4zOYUbGCQAkb1zcuNu6DQ27aUIE7sSXZb2uvcvRBdticvC7juJKmL9D_ZV522fxbxU4oA_mgL91wKbp7CHhkiQy2VZh5ZWKzqbM04uOSLysJfkx5tRkJ/s1600/029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszs3nsPR_XNYPUiE8nVJ1cVjj4zOYUbGCQAkb1zcuNu6DQ27aUIE7sSXZb2uvcvRBdticvC7juJKmL9D_ZV522fxbxU4oA_mgL91wKbp7CHhkiQy2VZh5ZWKzqbM04uOSLysJfkx5tRkJ/s400/029.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Gamarjos!</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I was very
surprised and touched that they had bought me a gift. They gave me a beautiful bracelet and a glass
globe on a gold stand. It was actually a
perfect gift and is something I will always treasure.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-3H-9D6Bvlj5Bb706iZwBAPsh_8EKqJVVBjgQ-J1DfN3UlUDYqNeqQ2Nod27fDldj9R6b1dellZmjoWIgLNY7XCiQ8LsY5O0SMUvq3HLZb4uX8nXz1_KOLw4qVDVh8OAtJary1CbACJpQ/s1600/032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-3H-9D6Bvlj5Bb706iZwBAPsh_8EKqJVVBjgQ-J1DfN3UlUDYqNeqQ2Nod27fDldj9R6b1dellZmjoWIgLNY7XCiQ8LsY5O0SMUvq3HLZb4uX8nXz1_KOLw4qVDVh8OAtJary1CbACJpQ/s320/032.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Tamuna my School Director presenting me with a gift</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVNPHxLpzzQVtiFyEHiywF9nXG0I1lP1MXLKwWmqoBrUHsVsGkfXbvNgx5UYoDvFyr0ADUZ2bYhX5ZUZsEmrY3iiptn9MZFkBQMnBkqebfrJCvg2sFoQ5AlBFEr35I3Ym8Sox149cOhFk/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVNPHxLpzzQVtiFyEHiywF9nXG0I1lP1MXLKwWmqoBrUHsVsGkfXbvNgx5UYoDvFyr0ADUZ2bYhX5ZUZsEmrY3iiptn9MZFkBQMnBkqebfrJCvg2sFoQ5AlBFEr35I3Ym8Sox149cOhFk/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Such a pretty box!</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBh1AavCDoMWwMBITRnH7CVL3IN1M2LnTWo9eEq4pZ85_pn-Qd9TJMcXE6wRAmHfc5DDilaPiPanUarV_yakDilV6wPLBDRKW87jSxV0FwgpD_B-jtthWZ4ZwbvzCqT3GJwMDfG97_J8SR/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBh1AavCDoMWwMBITRnH7CVL3IN1M2LnTWo9eEq4pZ85_pn-Qd9TJMcXE6wRAmHfc5DDilaPiPanUarV_yakDilV6wPLBDRKW87jSxV0FwgpD_B-jtthWZ4ZwbvzCqT3GJwMDfG97_J8SR/s320/008.JPG" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Just a perfect little present! Rotated to Africa - our next stop!</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBnZDPsF_tsSCzBVT0j1DVttiut7xIXTM0OnDkEfsQ2r-wPlEcqX0SOeclpZUEeV0mSpuObwMH_-eHKCBBJBDqvyDPml4EJt2qDpv4GaYbGHZDi3N1xb3qgacRYks1lugt0wvb7ypJVLQL/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="90" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBnZDPsF_tsSCzBVT0j1DVttiut7xIXTM0OnDkEfsQ2r-wPlEcqX0SOeclpZUEeV0mSpuObwMH_-eHKCBBJBDqvyDPml4EJt2qDpv4GaYbGHZDi3N1xb3qgacRYks1lugt0wvb7ypJVLQL/s400/009.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>A very unusual bracelet!</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There are of course obvious cultural differences but what seems to be the same as back home was how the old girls assumed authority over the younger women and got them running around. “My phone’s ringing, get my bag” “Gogo (girl) their (ours) wine glasses are empty” “We need a jug of water” “Go and dance” My young co-teachers were up and down all night, running around with the wine, dessert, the music. I had to laugh, it so reminded me of my Mum and what she’d be like. You can see in this next picture, two of my teachers running around – they are a blur!
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwFqzqsY6bPvEzvIBGQSYjFydWBJdH-Icn4ugKZlPDGPIucnvmRUlkw391eLwi9___aUOpN7ZIvljRqq2oU9YSehyphenhyphen1cQRKSH6l2jiOTsHySVc0B3Q-9UD3HSQykPrwrVoNhdmqKBIe9Ud/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwFqzqsY6bPvEzvIBGQSYjFydWBJdH-Icn4ugKZlPDGPIucnvmRUlkw391eLwi9___aUOpN7ZIvljRqq2oU9YSehyphenhyphen1cQRKSH6l2jiOTsHySVc0B3Q-9UD3HSQykPrwrVoNhdmqKBIe9Ud/s320/025.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Spot the blur in the background!</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Another surprise of the
evening was the singing. The ladies sang
lots of songs, harmonising with each other.
It was great! Maka told me that
it is a tradition because no matter what your problems are you can always sing
and feel better. At one point, the French teachers sang a French song, then the
Russian teachers countered with a Russian one and to top that the Maths teachers
sang a Georgian song entitled “Erti, Ori, Sami la la la” (One, two, three
lalala)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It’s no different to home really in that respect. I have fond memories of all the women sitting
in the kitchen at a barbeque singing all the songs we could remember, probably
spanning a century! <br />
<br />
To finish, what night out would be complete
without a dash around the tables doing a conga?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUs1Zb8vs0T2gFy45DILjpMCHZuFEtFP4AOXKJnApNb1ip2xusswRLlaNNaejRazlGOEvIWhZJ4tglE1027Mcq2-Z7AhGxSbMYC5zsT8UCnib3YSdhZOaFMePyMiyhNI_H7uBD_h37XZil/s1600/052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUs1Zb8vs0T2gFy45DILjpMCHZuFEtFP4AOXKJnApNb1ip2xusswRLlaNNaejRazlGOEvIWhZJ4tglE1027Mcq2-Z7AhGxSbMYC5zsT8UCnib3YSdhZOaFMePyMiyhNI_H7uBD_h37XZil/s400/052.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>La-La-la-la-la-la conga!</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP32g7e5sr6pOfK-PwvG869sfDUuN6S1Yiy5oKdDPk1gA_vC7B4JKmxX1P_9-brAdar0230Na0PAWJIA7Y2ZN0ZrYoPz5LSOuliFBUbElDfytlXYS8xgh7o208HkCRfAiR3_sSuVxrDQz5/s1600/055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP32g7e5sr6pOfK-PwvG869sfDUuN6S1Yiy5oKdDPk1gA_vC7B4JKmxX1P_9-brAdar0230Na0PAWJIA7Y2ZN0ZrYoPz5LSOuliFBUbElDfytlXYS8xgh7o208HkCRfAiR3_sSuVxrDQz5/s400/055.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The end of a very pleasant evening</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-77080610714171652572012-06-22T13:47:00.003+03:002012-06-22T13:47:37.946+03:00The Long Goodbye Part 3 - Bazaleti Hotel<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Sunday 10<sup>th</sup> June<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b> </b><span style="background-color: white;">After another rough night we emerged from the train at 7.30 in Tbilisi and headed to McDonalds</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">(where else?) for a wash and brush up, a burger and strong coffee to set ourselves up for the day.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">We were meeting up with people to exchange our worldly goods for much needed lari.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">Martin had been carrying around with him all weekend a very large Georgian - English Dictionary and it was a relief to get rid of it.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">We also ventured to the Bazaleti Hotel, where a new TLG arrival was buying one of our modems.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">Again, we had not been to the Bazaleti Hotel since our own orientation, 10 months ago and it was quite strange to be back there.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">We had a nice chat with our trainer, Tamara, and as we shared our experiences with her it felt like the circle was closing and our time in Georgia was coming to an end.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">At the end we were coming back to our beginnings.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The cable car base has now been built</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The cable cars hover over the ever-watchful Mother Georgia!</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-DFSOlX2vymmla435bZAhyphenhyphenSzDPjfUHcDf0Os6jpMFplEjOdohuTn01atXomhgRgY9lU3hoJupzylGrjMW44KDmoFp736TXBFAyrg65qItT55w5IexnEco7c4Oh1JKRef-EV8ShxxqC1i/s1600/136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-DFSOlX2vymmla435bZAhyphenhyphenSzDPjfUHcDf0Os6jpMFplEjOdohuTn01atXomhgRgY9lU3hoJupzylGrjMW44KDmoFp736TXBFAyrg65qItT55w5IexnEco7c4Oh1JKRef-EV8ShxxqC1i/s320/136.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>On they go</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>And on</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Final Destination</i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;">The weather
was gorgeous and we had time to wander around Europe Square and see the changes
that have taken place since our last visit.</span><span style="background-color: white;">
</span><span style="background-color: white;">Now the cable cars are in position.</span><span style="background-color: white;">
</span><span style="background-color: white;">Still a lot of work to be done, but they are getting there bit by bit. It will be a fantastic view of the city!</span></div>
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<br /></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-16487215769952707592012-06-22T13:47:00.002+03:002012-06-22T13:47:31.934+03:00The Long Good Bye Part 2 - Group 23 Batumi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Sunday 10<sup>th</sup> June<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">It is only since this last week that it feels like we are leaving Georgia. It started with the 1</span><sup style="background-color: white;">st</sup><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">years finishing, but that felt more like a little holiday from lessons rather than the beginning of the end. Ren, one of our cohort, got engaged and we were invited to the celebration bash to be held in Batumi last weekend. We have no money but it felt important to be there for this special event and also it would be the last time probably that all of the remaining Group 23 people would get together. So we went cattle class by train, up on the Friday night and back again on the Saturday night to make it as cheap as possible. Batumi is a coastal town on the Black sea and has been subjected to a lot of investment and is quite ‘glamorous’.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85Z5pUom06x-2ZyOQXFG94lCAROBDF9mre5Rp8qEWksOCTZWHPXzWwLam7i9iXvadZ7NA_rhd3HppR_Bvr24hssrnzHx1_ITZ3Wtgav-4U0J29isGtjjt1IfArQDNymjv8ss_GXPG6uvI/s1600/126+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85Z5pUom06x-2ZyOQXFG94lCAROBDF9mre5Rp8qEWksOCTZWHPXzWwLam7i9iXvadZ7NA_rhd3HppR_Bvr24hssrnzHx1_ITZ3Wtgav-4U0J29isGtjjt1IfArQDNymjv8ss_GXPG6uvI/s320/126+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>A beautiful day on the Black Sea</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>A new aquisition! A moving statue (we didn't see it move) <br />But there is a mechanism that rotates the man and the woman . Very interesting!</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhswFr7vTRh-5jS05FGlAHABnPAZDtXHipA_2c0MTdKj6kyf7UdgoFkomI1YREHbSZQ1sv0sZeQKAEUfoc1Ual34Pqz73Qvrt5lHle5egp2tSmFf7gt9_gslQNEuTCZ0pafwBBLhceAS5ej/s1600/130+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhswFr7vTRh-5jS05FGlAHABnPAZDtXHipA_2c0MTdKj6kyf7UdgoFkomI1YREHbSZQ1sv0sZeQKAEUfoc1Ual34Pqz73Qvrt5lHle5egp2tSmFf7gt9_gslQNEuTCZ0pafwBBLhceAS5ej/s320/130+-+Copy.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The Alphabet Tower</i></b></td></tr>
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We arrived
at 7.30 on the Saturday morning after a pretty restless night and found out
that many of the celebration party were on the same train and so we gathered
together then split into groups again with the plan being to meet up again
later. We had a fab breakfast of the
khatchapuri (cheese bread) with the egg on top washed down by a couple of pints
of beer. Very good and this set us up
nicely. We then took a leisurely stroll
to the beach and kind of settled down, with us preferring to have a little snooze
while the younger elements of the group ran around playing Frisbee. The beach consists of large pebbles and so it
is testament to our rough night that we managed to sleep haha.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJyuA2yVqqpfXHpbOT1604CJpIUBlGXutUTLm45uXE02tGykBxCELJLvTKojmZWppuVXQ6XXDDTOt9XIjzWuZCWO34j1jAOmr5HdBzLpFU9egc9sq1LvYQzs5RsQbcSiXjvj4ncxv9yVEl/s1600/466155_10100115476341486_334817911_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJyuA2yVqqpfXHpbOT1604CJpIUBlGXutUTLm45uXE02tGykBxCELJLvTKojmZWppuVXQ6XXDDTOt9XIjzWuZCWO34j1jAOmr5HdBzLpFU9egc9sq1LvYQzs5RsQbcSiXjvj4ncxv9yVEl/s320/466155_10100115476341486_334817911_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Sitting at the Pizza restaurant waiting for news about the wedding!</i></b></td></tr>
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We kind of
drifted somewhere else after a while and then Ren arrived and we were told that
the engagement might actually be a wedding if her fiancé Miriami could get the
registry office booked and so we were not sure what was happening. There was no restaurant actually booked
either and so we really didn’t have a clue what was going to happen! Another stroll to a pizza place for lunch and
then Miriami and his mates arrived and we were told “No wedding” and that they
had booked a Chinese restaurant and to meet there at 6.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEZU-lAyYeOxLuAyDgfb3lbv39EdRU3ie99W7-7vOeJ1h3amTXpX1GePUQ3DoRUM4uO9LuWRrErIxTnlIRD_tSgtqHM3_88U5uXDbacbl0l3a7u9hKeGjwFqv6eBGcaw6jVshVBEmNH5je/s1600/414825_10100115476755656_793014678_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEZU-lAyYeOxLuAyDgfb3lbv39EdRU3ie99W7-7vOeJ1h3amTXpX1GePUQ3DoRUM4uO9LuWRrErIxTnlIRD_tSgtqHM3_88U5uXDbacbl0l3a7u9hKeGjwFqv6eBGcaw6jVshVBEmNH5je/s320/414825_10100115476755656_793014678_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Wandering through the town centre of Batumi</i></b></td></tr>
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Batumi was
the first place we visited when we came to Georgia last August and it
co-incidentally it was with our group 23 and we had not been back since
then. So it was a funny kind of day with
the memories of what it was like to be a newbie and also looking at the changes
that had taken place since we were last there.
It was a good day. Here are some before and after pictures from both of our visits and while the weather makes everything seem a lot lovelier, you can see the changes!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The Lighthouse in the distance with the not yet finished Alphabet Tower (August 2011)</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFsriuHIrObMF7VKhunyQ3UfMyRIT_XGt-dA5yFvpwkDrwYcUFvtzbVleZZE9sbMqgqz35zBgQGtqJKkUccf20FDJL2mNJAoKtHGbuXy9XZLxnDL2U4OtlSXIfaMn7fMwiHkewLg2nShTp/s1600/127+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFsriuHIrObMF7VKhunyQ3UfMyRIT_XGt-dA5yFvpwkDrwYcUFvtzbVleZZE9sbMqgqz35zBgQGtqJKkUccf20FDJL2mNJAoKtHGbuXy9XZLxnDL2U4OtlSXIfaMn7fMwiHkewLg2nShTp/s320/127+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Taken from a different angle but you can see how the surroundings are developing (June 2012)</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQXUBmloA_edzbk_KuHiEgGvLN1qxayngxcvWdoqLYXBny53cGN9KxtvB3hyphenhyphenqy-EVIVYSMWQWRXLaocjM-tZKcjdM6kANHQ5OVb6k6awMQMeqxFQ8fQDtei2ZDKHMojnkYIUyJs3SSc-I/s1600/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQXUBmloA_edzbk_KuHiEgGvLN1qxayngxcvWdoqLYXBny53cGN9KxtvB3hyphenhyphenqy-EVIVYSMWQWRXLaocjM-tZKcjdM6kANHQ5OVb6k6awMQMeqxFQ8fQDtei2ZDKHMojnkYIUyJs3SSc-I/s320/015.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The Raddison hotel on the left,<br />unknown building and the Alphabet Tower (August 2011).</i></b> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVj4WjRlpGFW0HcMpXNt12imryozvXY1ghJ6a-uX3f9P6hs4SXAq1muAfu71CgBt7rCsPUQFqcdkrYxqPblF8hkohXj9x8dep38PaiylGc_JgEqKDIM-JJ3Xn7zYVostDXkoSloOm1Gw3M/s1600/097+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVj4WjRlpGFW0HcMpXNt12imryozvXY1ghJ6a-uX3f9P6hs4SXAq1muAfu71CgBt7rCsPUQFqcdkrYxqPblF8hkohXj9x8dep38PaiylGc_JgEqKDIM-JJ3Xn7zYVostDXkoSloOm1Gw3M/s320/097+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The Raddison hotel on the left plus new building, <br />unknown building and the Alphabet Tower with its roof on (June 2012).</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9MDJhMpNpUI3UQTtqRhRC5fSIi7ga7to1ehQIys7LMq5xRTWOGQKXHp4yLCdn9-Edt6vWnYVQEn3x8fERYry8ho31tnjxz_Dt1PwA0XIP2wC-V7xYrLtIAmvXl_1FJ7SKdEGnv6362Kf/s1600/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9MDJhMpNpUI3UQTtqRhRC5fSIi7ga7to1ehQIys7LMq5xRTWOGQKXHp4yLCdn9-Edt6vWnYVQEn3x8fERYry8ho31tnjxz_Dt1PwA0XIP2wC-V7xYrLtIAmvXl_1FJ7SKdEGnv6362Kf/s320/017.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The Ferris wheel all alone in August 2011</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpVNMDs4fOp1jM4S3eOQquXZ1_AoUOa2eHuhzuXkPOFA8P0tr62md5ad6LZAagQGNmxQFdMr4I-HWXY1luofdIFVWw9KYfq-weOOoFnCz7gB2IIvBVK42Qj79ATdVOcJThmG-WlcL8PodZ/s1600/131+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpVNMDs4fOp1jM4S3eOQquXZ1_AoUOa2eHuhzuXkPOFA8P0tr62md5ad6LZAagQGNmxQFdMr4I-HWXY1luofdIFVWw9KYfq-weOOoFnCz7gB2IIvBVK42Qj79ATdVOcJThmG-WlcL8PodZ/s320/131+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Much prettier in June 2012</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>I like this picture!</i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;">The Chinese restaurant was good and in the end there were about 30 of us in the party. Of course this was followed by Georgian dancing ! Emotions were running high. Who would have thought it that one year later 7 of the 8 remaining group 23ers would be here with 2 of the 8 singletons having met their future husbands? Because of course Justina also met Ola!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Ren and Miriani Louisiana meets Georgia</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN5W_jYl3fBs90C2EcU0dEMXwltIAn94pIJ6I_38xv8V6t7DL7bNcTZvcBgUyw74ZzXiFBy9sdcoS7un3gKgOpwSWGehPjdDZUr908zznJXNm5_7Fw1xM02HgPwoj4sq7xF7CTrt-P_t0g/s1600/551212_10101445314734715_392083445_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN5W_jYl3fBs90C2EcU0dEMXwltIAn94pIJ6I_38xv8V6t7DL7bNcTZvcBgUyw74ZzXiFBy9sdcoS7un3gKgOpwSWGehPjdDZUr908zznJXNm5_7Fw1xM02HgPwoj4sq7xF7CTrt-P_t0g/s320/551212_10101445314734715_392083445_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Kisses and Flowers</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Let the Dancing Begin!</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM6F2ZLMnOyMPiiZLaC27Srwn8AYs8-Mg3IfdJxaNk7B5ss5tA6G9gYhN6p3NoD8gSRoxJfMcv1XZ6vuYxlKRNOrRp-06OhmMd5zUfyFz_B2r1gBLOk0BF9kxkXSyj2q3hEemO85mURUlG/s1600/464254_10100114712522186_24940525_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM6F2ZLMnOyMPiiZLaC27Srwn8AYs8-Mg3IfdJxaNk7B5ss5tA6G9gYhN6p3NoD8gSRoxJfMcv1XZ6vuYxlKRNOrRp-06OhmMd5zUfyFz_B2r1gBLOk0BF9kxkXSyj2q3hEemO85mURUlG/s320/464254_10100114712522186_24940525_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Justina and Ola - 2 lovebirds!</i></b></td></tr>
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<br /></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-1203683830680442202012-06-22T13:47:00.001+03:002012-06-22T13:47:23.147+03:00The Long Goodbye - Part 1 - Goodbye 1st Years!<br />
<b>Sunday 10th June</b><br />
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The first years finished the semester 3 weeks early and so for their lesson, we went into the playground and we played some run-around games which they absolutely loved and couldn't believe their luck that English could be such fun.<br />
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It seemed like a good opportunity to try out “The Big Ship Sailed on the Alley-Alley-Oh” as with 22 children we needed space. I did this in the village school in the classroom as there were half the number of children but even with two teachers it proved to be an ambitious plan! Instead of moving in a line under the arms of the front 2 children they kind of randomly broke out of the line and went where ever they wanted. Never mind! We moved on to “What’s the Time Mr Wolf” and they soon got the hang of it and didn’t get tired of screaming as I turned into a fierce wolf at “Dinner Time” and chased them around the playground. The sun was beating down on us so we moved into the shade and did the “Hokey Cokey” which was they enjoyed particularly the boys when we did the running into the middle part as they could crash and fall over” What is it with boys that at any opportunity they do this? They are all the same worldwide!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The beautiful roses that filled every vase for <br />every teacher brought in by children from their gardens (or the local park ...!)</i></b></td></tr>
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There was of course an end of semester concert which I attended and enjoyed but didn’t understand any of it as it was all in Georgian and involved recitation and patriotism with the hand on the heart and the national anthem. Although some of them hadn’t quite got the hang of it! The girls were dressed in their finest and sang a song which involved the swishing of their skirts. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Recitation is a serious business in Georgia and students make the pledge</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Skirt swishing is about to happen!</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The children all learning dancing from a young age - the best are chosen to perform today</i></b></td></tr>
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It’s always interesting to look at the audience and these are 2 of my second years no doubt thinking that it seems a long time since they were first years. Just look at the mums with the mixture of anxiety and joy on their faces. Mums are the same the world over.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Mothers exhibiting an array of emotions as they watch their children - pleasure, anxiety and horror . I wonder if any of these is the mother of the girl who hd to run off the stage to get to the toilet VERY quickly?</i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>My second year class wondering where the years have gone</i></b></td></tr>
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<br /></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-80595192857554621762012-06-06T20:13:00.001+03:002012-06-06T20:13:47.108+03:00Lessons Learnt in Georgia<br />
<b>Tuesday 6th June 2012</b><br />
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As the end of our time in Georgia draws near everyone starts thinking about what they have discovered about themselves or the impact they have had here. I am no exception! But when it comes to it is hard to say what the effect of this experience has been. But here goes!<br />
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<b>You can always be more flexible</b><br />
I always considered myself a very flexible person in way I responded to new situations and in my willingness to look at things from a range of viewpoints and did not expect to have real difficulties in adjusting to a new culture. However, this was not the case at all. There were so many times that I wanted to scream in my head “NO, NO, NO!” and stamp my feet about a whole load of issues. Whether it was from my own resentments that come from living with a bunch of people or whether it came out of my intolerance towards my work colleagues. I can see that I have a long way to go before I get an award!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Candle in Davit Gareji Monastery</td></tr>
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<b>Being part of a faith community is important to me</b><br />
We have been going to mass in Tbilisi for a while most Sundays whenever we can. We sing in the choir too which has been really nice too and through that we have met and become involved in the ex-pat world here which consists mainly of US military people or those working for charities and NGOs. It was through the friendships that I made here that I was able to become involved in women’s health issues in Georgia and working with those who train teachers. It isn’t just about the social and community aspect of it though; I need to be around people who share my faith to help me keep grounded in my faith. When we worked out how to get to church regularly I felt such a sense of relief and peace, it was just missing before. Wherever we go in the world I would like to belong to a faith community in one form or another where possible.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrMBlriCYZIoIPdDQ-S7BXoQI0VUnH0aK9A-rAG_INvK3HOMJr0r1ZFXtNfXoaP0oRrVHarI0YrtFoilmT61hurvBIdd9buqOIRi-EYA6YrUMDQeTQoNcR8NLBs7Pmja3EPe66CTNS3Kn/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrMBlriCYZIoIPdDQ-S7BXoQI0VUnH0aK9A-rAG_INvK3HOMJr0r1ZFXtNfXoaP0oRrVHarI0YrtFoilmT61hurvBIdd9buqOIRi-EYA6YrUMDQeTQoNcR8NLBs7Pmja3EPe66CTNS3Kn/s320/012.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colouring in their Room</td></tr>
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<b>I love working with young children</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinj4kYcf4i0g4U9tfgnUzGIDzifUipmbRVAp-uobxdGX2XVAPuVCTJAbPdM2fs8snwYzueWf7DGbKfE00QViTm_dc3VpANZ8pkAGI_C2ipsUXm-ijwhhJ_s6YxeUSaZEYMRWsF8J47Wv_O/s1600/471662_412218972142115_100000620461653_19364478_941053977_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinj4kYcf4i0g4U9tfgnUzGIDzifUipmbRVAp-uobxdGX2XVAPuVCTJAbPdM2fs8snwYzueWf7DGbKfE00QViTm_dc3VpANZ8pkAGI_C2ipsUXm-ijwhhJ_s6YxeUSaZEYMRWsF8J47Wv_O/s320/471662_412218972142115_100000620461653_19364478_941053977_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Completed House</td></tr>
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I was disappointed when I was told that we were only allowed to work with students in years 1 to 6 when we came to Georgia. My background is with secondary school age and I was a bit “Why are they wasting my skills?” kind of thing. However, I have discovered that I love working with this age group. They are so lovely and open and natural and not yet caught up in the horrors of puberty and self-consciousness. It is very freeing for me to express myself and not get shot down in flames for being uncool. There is so much opportunity to love them and praise them up and to show them so many other things. (Of course you do that with the older ones but you have to think more carefully about how you do it.) I also love the opportunity to be creative and playful, making models, drawing, games, being silly and free. The look of wonder and excitement (on all our faces lol) when we turned 2-dimensional rooms into a 3-dimensional house or the realisation that all this paper folding and teacher’s one snip with scissors folded out into an 8 page book! Again you do all this with the older ones it is just done differently. I guess it takes me back to being a young mum again to a time when I saved insides of toilet rolls, cereal and egg boxes and all sorts to do “sticking”.<br />
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<b>Technology is a wonderful thing</b><br />
We can sometimes have a love-hate relationship with technology and it is often hard to see the relevance of it when we are getting along just fine without it. I am old enough to remember the time before remote control TVs and we were all a little bit dizzy as to why it was a big deal to have to get up and turn the TV over. Same with microwaves, we had saucepans, what did we need a microwave for? Obviously I used the internet and email at home but I didn’t do much in the way of everything else. However, this technology makes such an enormous difference to our lives here. With Skype I can see the people who I am talking to, walk my laptop around the apartment as a guided tour, free calls to people on their computer. It makes conversation so easy and family and friends so much more accessible. Seeing someone’s face, smiling, laughing and even crying, makes it less painful to be away from them and easier to be closer to them in every-day life. Facebook has it pluses and minuses but being away from home means that I still get to be part of your life in a small way and often it makes no difference as to whether I am in England or not. Playing online games with friends and family has been another great way of connecting although the downside is that I naturally become fixated on non-productive games like SIMS (please see previous post haha!) I have now discovered how to download other people’s books for my kindle which has been marvellous and the best of all is some software that allows me to watch programs on BBC I-player. I have only just discovered this but am very excited about it as it opens up a whole new world of entertainment possibilities!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-IPJ-dERP5hbqOVZGQtVHpp_IkuiDwe-sH1mryf7V3RikkBozu46IYf0lihq67xV-ie_MUcRDHcJ0ueA51deeaR-yrmTboXp-V4xBFG1-ViMALJmIt7K4jBZFLnxm7OVZO-9ht5eJil0E/s1600/398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-IPJ-dERP5hbqOVZGQtVHpp_IkuiDwe-sH1mryf7V3RikkBozu46IYf0lihq67xV-ie_MUcRDHcJ0ueA51deeaR-yrmTboXp-V4xBFG1-ViMALJmIt7K4jBZFLnxm7OVZO-9ht5eJil0E/s320/398.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working with a year 8 class - How to Make beans on Toast - <br />Essential Information!</td></tr>
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<b>I am becoming a better teacher</b><br />
I have definitely improved a great deal over the last year. Firstly, this is the first time I have taught English as a subject so there are lots of learning opportunities but I think it is also because I have been trying to teach the teachers modern teaching methods. Teaching someone something is always the best way to see how much you really know about a subject and because the bar is so low here it isn’t hard to be impressive. Basic stuff we would do in England seems pretty radical here for example students working in a group and make a presentation to the rest of the class, with each group covering a different aspect of the topic. Thus students as teachers. The teachers here are not going to know that it hasn’t turned out quite as was expected because this is all new stuff to them and so it is very freeing to try out new techniques.<br />
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<b>It is hard to learn a language</b><br />
I always prided myself on the fact that I was good at learning languages. You know what they say about pride coming before a fall? Georgian with its non-roman alphabet was a real challenge. It wasn’t just about memorising words which were basically variations on English words; instead every letter had to be learnt and sounded out and then so many Georgian words made no sense and were several syllables long. It was a tough call. I can now read Georgian although some letters are a challenge but as I don’t know what the word is that I am reading I can’t work out the letters logically. The words are so long that often I have forgotten what the first letters were but the time I have gotten halfway through! This gave me such an insight into what the kids were experiencing. I knew that in order to be able to read fluently I had to recognise each letter rapidly and not spend time trying to work it out. (Well it’s either a b or a g sound – now what is it?) Otherwise I could not really progress onto more complex reading. I also discovered that listening wasn’t sufficient to be able to learn new words. They needed to be said really frequently for that to happen. I have to write things down, but not knowing the letters well I couldn’t do that. I have made sure that where possible, students know the phonetic alphabet without hesitation as without that they simply cannot read and will always be held back because of that.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGR0TwFZHOJJ4mSomBapMiLCxBAmLimpuOwBsCmj6s815sav_axR286JLitcpLHkSiuVtr2GJzRIr80gyh0G6-BeCjw4UsIQr7Z8ee6y5q8zGxem-24uAdj5_O9TDBIvAfyoxVbySwXSy/s1600/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGR0TwFZHOJJ4mSomBapMiLCxBAmLimpuOwBsCmj6s815sav_axR286JLitcpLHkSiuVtr2GJzRIr80gyh0G6-BeCjw4UsIQr7Z8ee6y5q8zGxem-24uAdj5_O9TDBIvAfyoxVbySwXSy/s320/010.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were so excited to find fish fingers!</td></tr>
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<b>101 ways with eggs and becoming less attached to food</b><br />
It wasn’t long after we came to Georgia that we started to miss the food from home. You know - typical English food like eggs and bacon, roast dinners, Chinese and Indian. We loved the Georgian food at first but the day in and day out routine of eating local food all the time took its toll. Initially, we tried every type of food offered but then we settled into eating just what we liked and we lost weight in the first semester as a result. Living in a village, where a limited range of food was available and where meat is very expensive, eggs, frankfurters, pasta and bread were staples. We couldn’t wait to sample all the food we were missing on our Christmas break back in England and stocked up on some essentials like chilli-con-carne mix for our return to Georgia as we were now going to be in our own apartment and could eat what we wanted. We now had a toaster and bought marmalade, so breakfast was sorted. Chicken and minced beef was readily available and so we cooked shepherd’s pie, lots of chilli con carne, and roast chicken dinners (I also brought back sage and onion stuffing!) I made a few stews with dumplings (brought suet back as well) and with my hand-blender I made a load of really nice soups. <br />
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But meat is expensive so we had to return to the time honoured tradition of eggs, pasta, rice, potatoes and bread! Plus of course vegetables! What shall we have for dinner tonight? Well there are eggs and there’s pasta. Hmmm let me see ….! It feels like ready steady cook; make an amazing meal out of 4 ingredients! But overall I think I am less attached to food in general and it is more of a fuelling up rather than an event in itself. I am more interested in what is happening as a result of the food being there, like friends being over or the actual celebration. People are talking about their food plans for when they return but I don’t have strong feelings like I did last semester. Hmmm I could go for a sausage actually!<br />
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<br /></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-50980981170855720492012-06-06T19:59:00.001+03:002012-06-06T19:59:24.857+03:00Breast Cancer in Georgia<br />
Wednesday 6th June 2012<br />
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I like the music teacher at my school. One day she grabbed me and took me to the music room where they had a battered old piano and played and sang “Santa Lucia” to me. She told me she taught herself to play by ear and can’t read music and she sounded like a pub singer, the ones that I used to go to with my mum and dad in the late 70s. I’d given her 4 pairs of my trousers that were too big for me and she was always joking that she liked my tops (they weren’t black for starters!). Well I thought she was joking but it probably was a direct request. Anyhow she came over to me on Monday flapping around with her blouse saying something I couldn’t understand, and I thought she was talking about wanting my clothes. Then she lifted up her top to show me her bra and when I still looked puzzled she took my hand and gestured for me to touch her left breast. It was rock hard and I was thinking is that an implant? Can’t be; and then I fell in. She was pointing to the notice board and then back to her breast and I realised she was telling me that she had breast cancer. There was a notice about a presentation to be held the next day of Breast Cancer Prevention by the cancer Prevention unit in Tbilisi. I didn’t know what to say.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjHcyUV-zC46C4mzs0buNqa5gH9WrjX72b3UTZIR3xf0kTYkBMYiBmGVefIZb5Ipf3GPPnVOBNl46sPJxwnvPnVupz0exY4qvXFWGEzqgwbwd86WVdZcK5-Npc4UqxNl8pbdeGytA0TjJA/s1600/169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjHcyUV-zC46C4mzs0buNqa5gH9WrjX72b3UTZIR3xf0kTYkBMYiBmGVefIZb5Ipf3GPPnVOBNl46sPJxwnvPnVupz0exY4qvXFWGEzqgwbwd86WVdZcK5-Npc4UqxNl8pbdeGytA0TjJA/s320/169.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The notice board in our staff room at Kaspi school #1</td></tr>
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Four months ago I was introduced to a Fulbright scholar, Mahnaz, by another Fulbright Scholar, Del, who has started to come to church. She was in Georgia, working with the government to write health policies regarding cancer prevention, diagnosis, treatment and after care. She explained to me that in the USA 1 in 8 women were diagnosed with breast cancer but 93% of those women went on to have full and complete lives. But in Georgia a diagnosis of breast cancer was in fact a death sentence and that this was entirely preventable. She told me how Georgian women will not go and see their doctor if they found a lump or other concern with their breasts. They take the attitude that they feel ok and don’t want to worry their family; they don’t want to put a financial strain on their family; they are worried that their husbands will leave them for another woman. As a result, a diagnosis is made too late and it is too late to do anything about it. Ironically, the family end up spending as much money on care at the late stage as they would have in the early stage. Breast cancer is a taboo subject and women don’t like to discuss it; they keep their problems to themselves. Mahnaz went on to say that in Georgia, after surgery, there is no after care, the women just go home. There is no physiotherapy, no breast reconstruction, no psychological care or social support.<br />
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As part of her paid work as a Fulbright Scholar she is also involved in not-for-profit work and her focus was about educating women in Georgia about prevention and the need for early diagnosis and to help set up survivors support groups. I asked if I could help. Breast reconstruction was out of the financial reach of the vast majority of women and the lack of prosthesis available meant that breast cancer survivors had nothing to replace their missing breast that was the right shape and texture. As a result, women didn’t go out and preferred to stay in indoors as they felt embarrassed about their shape. She asked me if I would look into setting up a survivors group where women could get together to support each other and knit prosthesis for themselves and other women. She told me about websites that offered knitting patterns and said the International Women’s Association were trying to provide materials for this to happen. <br />
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I did ask my teachers at school if they knew people who may be interested in a group but they said that Georgian women didn’t do that kind of thing and they liked to be private. Without being able to speak Georgian, there wasn’t a lot I could do so instead I focussed on trying to organise health talks for the students which would include breast cancer prevention. I was directed to several sources who could be of help but with only 4 months before I left Georgia there wasn’t enough time. Instead we looked at inviting the Cancer Prevention Unit from Tbilisi to make a presentation at all 4 schools in Kaspi aimed at year 12, 11 and 10 girls and their mothers. There is a TLG volunteer teacher in all the schools in Kaspi and we planned to work together to make this happen.<br />
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I had to produce a “Project Proposal form” and send this to TLG which set out what the presentation was about and the steps involved in completing the project. I was getting a bit frustrated at this time as it seemed like a simple request to me and I think I put “Save Lives” as the final step in this project. We just wanted to hold a presentation at 3 in the afternoon straight after school for female students and their mothers. Why couldn’t the school director just say “Yes”? I spoke to my teachers, who spoke to the school director who spoke to the Education Resource Centre (ERC) who said “No”. We then decided to look for alternative venue in Kaspi to hold the talk and while we were researching this I got in back in touch with TLG and asked if they could help. The trouble is I just couldn’t see why they would not see it as a fantastic idea as the Director and teachers did? What reason did they give? “None”. TLG came back to me and said that we could go ahead if we got permission from the Ministry of Education. So I had to write a letter in English which had to be translated to Georgian and sent to the Ministry of Education. This process in itself took over a week as I didn’t realise I actually had to produce a formal letter from myself making a request to the Director. Time was ticking on and it was only 2 weeks before the talk was scheduled to take place. How long would it take to get permission from the Ministry of Education? No-one knew.<br />
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Because of the delays there was only time to schedule presentations at 2 schools and so we arranged them for the last possible dates, Tuesday 5th June and Monday 11th June. I emailed TLG again to ask them to check what was happening and when I still hadn’t heard anything by Monday 3rd I let Mahnaz know that we were not going to be able to go ahead and put our hopes in the presentation at school number 3 for the following week. However, at 10:40 the director came into the staffroom and told us that we had the go-ahead. I could only hope that we would be able to let people know that it was happening in time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifHut4W_UHm0RvCMAgtVl0v8lX4jMVyIwELBlBIEdMQMmmohgjyVPUKKTmMK8GFa4BUoU9VzVxRnJbysmkZCZhZzPESBLxZDV6djTbaACauAYy-EDV2rsbL3J7rqXjKmcK-8tx1MTlJ3Kw/s1600/162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifHut4W_UHm0RvCMAgtVl0v8lX4jMVyIwELBlBIEdMQMmmohgjyVPUKKTmMK8GFa4BUoU9VzVxRnJbysmkZCZhZzPESBLxZDV6djTbaACauAYy-EDV2rsbL3J7rqXjKmcK-8tx1MTlJ3Kw/s320/162.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
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We had a full house! We had filled a classroom with around 10 teachers and 20 year 10 students who heard about the things they couldn’t do to prevent breast cancer (genetics) and the things they could do to prevent cancer (healthy lifestyle – eating well and exercising, having children at a young age, breastfeeding, not using abortion as a contraceptive), how and when to examine their breasts and what to check for, the importance of making an early diagnosis, screening, and what happens if surgery is needed. It was all in Georgian and I didn’t understand a word of it but everyone looked interested. You have to remember that this kind of event doesn’t happen in Georgia. It’s not like the UK where personal health is part of the curriculum. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Year 10 students</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teachers</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwA9V67TNkXIua4AN5Jpvlv1j7at8u3pVbb9TGVio_ptysPnks7T6wf1L9rgUpRXJHe3h0iQ1KOwK1eCJkyFvUJBKsZx1T3CoozoWAp6kpVeZVopEYK6eWN3D1RNJVFVayzohzFOhlvwKy/s1600/167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwA9V67TNkXIua4AN5Jpvlv1j7at8u3pVbb9TGVio_ptysPnks7T6wf1L9rgUpRXJHe3h0iQ1KOwK1eCJkyFvUJBKsZx1T3CoozoWAp6kpVeZVopEYK6eWN3D1RNJVFVayzohzFOhlvwKy/s320/167.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left: maka (co-teacher),Mahnaz (Fulbirght Scholar), Tiko (Cancer Team)<br /> Soso (Doctor Cancer team) Me, Maria (co-teacher) holding the board <br />to show how to recognise problems</td></tr>
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Leaflets were left and placed in the staff room so that those who weren’t there could get the information and there were many positive comments were made.<br />
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Today in staff room, the music teacher came and sat next to me on the settee with a leaflet in her hand. We just sat there together, she didn’t say anything; but sometimes there is nothing to be said.<br />
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<br /></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-71267858771193707062012-06-06T19:45:00.003+03:002012-06-06T20:49:40.117+03:00Technology<br />
Saturday 12th May 2012<br />
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I have taken the brave step today of announcing that I am a SIMS addict and will no longer be playing the online game SIMS Social. Anyone who knows me knows that I can get ‘hooked’ into my computer very easily. I have played Tetris for 8 hours solid without leaving the armchair and purchased every SIMs PC game and played them to exhaustion. I removed them from my PC along when I started my degree in 2003 along with taking the pledge to no longer spend 12 hours a week watching soap operas. I never went back to soaps after I finished studying but the lure of the PC game is always ever present! <br />
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With cigarettes, I learnt from bitter experience that one puff and I would be back to 30 a day within a month and with computer games my harmless flirtation with ‘Bubble Witch Saga’ and ‘Words with Friends’ lead to being online all the time I was at home with SIMS Social. ‘Words with Friends’ an online scrabble game was no problem as it at least made you think a bit and also served as a nice link with friends at home in the UK and other places. ‘Bubble Witch Saga’ was a bit of mindless time wasting. But SIMS Social, with its constant demands to complete tasks for ‘Rewards’ and to ‘Invite Friends’ was exhausting. This is much more like stressful living. As with the real rat race, the realisation that as soon as one task was completed there were four more waiting in line and with no satisfaction at the end of it (other than getting through) was the wake-up call both to take a stand with SIMS Social and co-incidentally as it was with ‘real life’. Hence upping sticks and coming to Georgia.<br />
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The PC is a lifeline here as there is firstly a lot of down-time and secondly an essential communication tool with email, internet and Skype. We use it to make resources for school and to watch films and TV series that we downloaded or copied from other teachers here. Our kindles hold around 1000 books and are the same weight as a reporter’s note book. All this we know but at the same time I feel uncomfortable with my dependence on it. A previous blog entry highlighted my sheer panic at not having electricity which meant no computer. The other day I messed up my Kindle and it looked like I would have to get it fixed in the UK and until Martin sorted it for me I was in a bit of a state – “What am I gonna do?” Obviously I am old enough to remember a time before the internet – what did I do before then? – I used to talk on the phone a lot and watch TV and a lot of gardening.<br />
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A couple of the volunteers I have met here were not computer literate to start with and manage to live without the technology for the most part. A couple have made a deliberate decision to not bring a laptop or Kindle with them so that they can fully integrate into the culture and not use technology as a distraction from interacting with their families. <br />
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Gone are the days where our spare time was spent on basic survival needs such as making clothes, cooking and growing and preserving food for the winter. With my studying days in abeyance, I am at a loss what to do with all of my spare time and am looking for something that is not actually a complete and utter waste.<br />
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<br /></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-36664678308427707792012-06-06T19:41:00.000+03:002012-06-06T19:41:01.900+03:00Trains<br />
Saturday 12th May 2012<br />
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I like trains. I didn’t know this before I came to Georgia; it is a new discovery. I grew up living by railway lines. One of my Dad’s many jobs was in a station ticket office and I was very impressed that he knew by memory how much every ticket cost for every destination. Naturally this was before computers when people were made to think. But using trains in Georgia is like stepping back in time, not just in the past but also into a different era, another time. Martin has just been reading a science fiction book written by Mary Shelley called The Last Man. It was written in the 1800s but it is set in 2053 but disappointingly doesn’t refer to the imagined new gadgets of the future, rather it was still firmly fixed in Regency England with horse and carts as transport although there was mention of balloon travel. I couldn’t but think of Georgia, which has an antiquated transport infrastructure as it crawls in to 21st century.<br />
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We have been seeing a lot of trains. Kaspi, the town we live in, has a station and we have walked around it a few times en-route for country walks and there are loads of trains just sitting there. These aren’t passenger trains but some kind of industrial rolling stock. There doesn’t seem to be much activity during the day, but we hear the trains all through the night. They are completely functional and I kind of like that no-nonsense look. With the mountains in the background it looks like the Wild West!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like something out of the Wild West!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where does it go to? Nobody knows!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just chillin'</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for the train to cross</td></tr>
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We also have a thing for the Soviet style metro station in Tbilisi – Godsiridze. It is classic soviet style and looks like something out of 1970s futuristic films. So much concrete! This is the pedestrian bridge that stretches from the station over what seems like miles of railway tracks. This is a really bleak place in the winter. The car park round the corner from the station is just as bad!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Martin about to climb the crumbling stairs to the long footbridge</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The long footbridge over the railway tracks</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reminds me of Thomas the Tank engine Land</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Classic Soviet Crazy Concreting</td></tr>
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My first experience of Soviet style train travel was in 1973 when I went on a school trip to Russia and we travelled from Leningrad to Moscow via night train. As you may imagine, none of us slept and instead run up and down the corridors all night but I still vividly remember staring out of the window as we travelled through snow covered countryside, eating a stale bun and thinking “THIS IS RUSSIA!” I have to report that nothing much has changed since then.<br />
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Our first trip on the night train in Georgia was just as exciting but we did get a little more sleep! We paid for a first class carriage from Tbilisi to Zugdidi for the princely sum of 16 lari as opposed to 11 lari for 2nd class – we didn’t consider 3rd class as we were new to the country and still thought in sterling. (Unlike now of course 1 year later where we think twice about travelling even 3rd class!). In third class you do get bunks but it is in open carriages. While 2nd and 1st class are private 4 bunk rooms with 2 bunks removed for the 1st class. We loved our little journey, we picnicked and drank Armenian brandy (having just returned from the foresaid country) and slept pretty well. Our travelling companions got into a ruck with the very rude and abrupt Russian guard but maybe it wasn’t surprising as they forced their way into her guard bunk-room mistaking it for the toilet. We were sensible to give the washing and loo facilities a miss as one look was enough for me, but the Americans are much cleaner than us and so used them anyhow.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This in an older style Night Train the modern ones are much nicer<br /></td></tr>
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Our return journey by day train was very slow and very long and also very hot. We nipped into a café at Zugdidi station for some supplies for the journey and they made us Khatchapuri (cheese bread) fresh for us. We were so worried about missing our train that we had to leave before it was ready but they took a note of our seat number and brought it to us. <br />
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Trains are fairly comfortable but distinctly foreign for example on one train when we came across the boiler and coals for the guard to top up just off the corridor. Also there is a constant traffic of women dragging boxes, buckets and plastic sacks up and down the carriages calling out their wares. “Khatchapuri, sunflower seeds, ice-creams, chocolate, sweets, popcorn, polystyrene flavourless things, lemonade, tissues, bananas” It goes on and on. One guy sold knicker-elastic. This doesn’t happen on the metro interestingly enough, just the main trains and the “Electro trains”. <br />
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The “Electro “trains have automated doors and stop at the small towns from Tbilisi to who knows where. None of the trains have maps and none of the stations have signs so you really do not know what goes where or at what time. One time we waited for over an hour for a train at Kaspi to go to our old village but we misunderstood thinking that the sign for 4 and 5 meant 45 minutes but it meant 4 or 5 o’clock. Still that was a language problem rather than a train problem. Except that it didn’t actually leave until 5.50. The main trains are timetabled but it is still not clear how you actually buy tickets if you are not in Tbilisi as in the local stations the ticket office is not open. With the “Electro” trains you pay 1 lari (30p) wherever your destination. <br />
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We caught the 1902 small gauge train from Borjomi to Bakuriani at Easter. It cost 2 lari (60p) and takes 2 ½ hours to up to the ski resort at the top of the mountain, stopping at all the little villages on the way. The views are spectacular but the soporific effects of the train rocking can send to off to sleep! It is very slow and you could easily jump off and on again should you want to!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jennifer desperately trying not to blink as the 20th photo is taken</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting at Borjomi</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Martin casually relaxed safe in the knowledge that he is so photogenic</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyv0u_qE9FzRYB9va9iJ185kaHgk6TJ-ZTZpno_Tr3S0xv0mg3eJAWi_3ZgAV1vpk2MD834sJblii9UOehTCzy9Tkc-OXiveMXaWHvlnaCQKU8wKir6axoNaP_QNqQXiJA5xEo2Cg3AVLW/s1600/047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyv0u_qE9FzRYB9va9iJ185kaHgk6TJ-ZTZpno_Tr3S0xv0mg3eJAWi_3ZgAV1vpk2MD834sJblii9UOehTCzy9Tkc-OXiveMXaWHvlnaCQKU8wKir6axoNaP_QNqQXiJA5xEo2Cg3AVLW/s320/047.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting at Bakuriani</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We have just completed a return trip 3rd class night train to and from Batumi for a friend’s engagement party. We went up on the Friday night catching the 11:32pm train from Kaspi. We seemed to wait ages on the platform, all alone in the dark with a terrific wind blowing and we were both a bit windswept and panicking that we had missed the damn thing! However we settled into our bunks and tried to sleep but it is difficult. Martin was worried about rolling over on the top bunk and falling off as he has been known to do that at home even in a big bed but he was OK with some helpful prodding with my feet when I felt it was a close call. On the return journey on Saturday night the guy in the bunk opposite fell out of his top bunk but despite heroic efforts by his mate in the lower bunk he couldn’t get back up and he disappeared somewhere. I think the 20 bottles of beer they had each had something to do with it.<br />
<br />Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-53438143652231400052012-05-12T08:38:00.000+03:002012-05-12T08:39:56.721+03:00Child's Play<br />
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<b>Wednesday 9<sup>th</sup> May 2012<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK34N08G6SIuVWFq1pqboNFlx_eKsHd925lBAktAV7J2f7wS33lx1wFe_mOAeFmhC6SvwrL-4nBlyV9sQWJnQwCJ5_MrR37biHbMA1Agr_uBmFeOUa6x-iuZjobOkwsM6Z4APpCLman3CQ/s1600/426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK34N08G6SIuVWFq1pqboNFlx_eKsHd925lBAktAV7J2f7wS33lx1wFe_mOAeFmhC6SvwrL-4nBlyV9sQWJnQwCJ5_MrR37biHbMA1Agr_uBmFeOUa6x-iuZjobOkwsM6Z4APpCLman3CQ/s320/426.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The public walkway from the metro to the main road over the disused railway tracks at Godsiridze in Tbilisi</i></b></td></tr>
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I have said
before how Georgia reminds me of many ways of what it was like to be a child in
the 1970’s in the East End of London where I grew up. It isn’t quite the same of course - it has
that little Georgian twist - plus of course my memories are not necessarily
that accurate. When I see abandoned
buildings and large tracts of land I get nostalgic for my youth and my freedom
to roam around as I pleased, exploring exciting places. I was a big fan of Enid Blyton; the Famous
Five and the Secret Seven are deeply rooted in my psyche. But I did see, in
Kareli, the town near our first village, kids taking advantage of the road
works and jumping over ditches and playing in the concrete pipes that were
being laid. This is the kind of thing
that we would do as children using our environment to invent new games to
play. When the local council cut the
grass and left it in piles we made up games involving jumping over different
piles of grass, spreading it wide and building it high. When the prefabricated ‘temporary’ classrooms
were delivered to the school in our road (to remain for about 15 years I think
in the end) we ‘broke in’ through the thick plastic that encased these
buildings, opened doors and windows and made dens. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Tm52NRT8ovBorGZ1CDlkTxuHwViBHY4CqDxCPH-hMZyrx3BQHD-3_n4IPukGEC2YECiOscMJCYGOI42pxsIt7jcRcnzu0qGMk5IeM_BLZCz-rQ_Lw9KsZ8IxhVcUstjog6uOmy_b0UNY/s1600/019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Tm52NRT8ovBorGZ1CDlkTxuHwViBHY4CqDxCPH-hMZyrx3BQHD-3_n4IPukGEC2YECiOscMJCYGOI42pxsIt7jcRcnzu0qGMk5IeM_BLZCz-rQ_Lw9KsZ8IxhVcUstjog6uOmy_b0UNY/s320/019.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Children making the most of the roadworks</b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7QBYZ7bd8YF0SXZx8VsMCFWNzkfSg8yGKn1KGH3QoWAkrdQ_qtOPWBVe98XCOP8eLQq6HHbgHrDa_DUNMPk_hVv0hY3JkDTQqdN6rmSw6u0m1EeD2kQfoUOGNEa1v6YEAdrX1btIv-qvr/s1600/431.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7QBYZ7bd8YF0SXZx8VsMCFWNzkfSg8yGKn1KGH3QoWAkrdQ_qtOPWBVe98XCOP8eLQq6HHbgHrDa_DUNMPk_hVv0hY3JkDTQqdN6rmSw6u0m1EeD2kQfoUOGNEa1v6YEAdrX1btIv-qvr/s320/431.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Interesting makeshift set of steps leading to the disused railway stretch in Godsirize,</b></i> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br /></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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There are many
open spaces or buildings that are in a state of dilapidation in Georgia. When we go past I see them with the eyes of
my childhood, imagining what me and my little groups of friends would do. It takes me back and I get a thrill of newly
discovered treasure when I spot these opportunities. But you don’t often see children utilising
these exciting places. You don’t really see many children playing inside or
out; full stop.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FxG7qRKMGfMwDGE8D_laXkN4-mx-tbJUkh9WItiMbyr-m7_ZL2nh7E5cL2hoAvMY5jPTytAaUQl0YJj3mDefHAdjX5P4238wNpuD1jSgv4QSJA2815DgqSHjnaEX_UiDpv1KI_ZZDrGW/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FxG7qRKMGfMwDGE8D_laXkN4-mx-tbJUkh9WItiMbyr-m7_ZL2nh7E5cL2hoAvMY5jPTytAaUQl0YJj3mDefHAdjX5P4238wNpuD1jSgv4QSJA2815DgqSHjnaEX_UiDpv1KI_ZZDrGW/s320/016.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>An abandoned building in the middle of the small town of Kareli. This pic was taken inside the main building.</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8lyFcjeMPsi05-x3g55ZFnGg4mdZyLNAjdalxpnSrSw2TwaCBtp9LLED7-145bywvn4q8HS4r_ZDeHeWI_O68CYmVMSx0uBtsQZRcIZFiN84aSV91vpAY5avbALBn-owb3PbAPTgIq__u/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8lyFcjeMPsi05-x3g55ZFnGg4mdZyLNAjdalxpnSrSw2TwaCBtp9LLED7-145bywvn4q8HS4r_ZDeHeWI_O68CYmVMSx0uBtsQZRcIZFiN84aSV91vpAY5avbALBn-owb3PbAPTgIq__u/s320/006.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Further in side the same building. We discovered at a later date that this was still in fact a functioning building which among other things housed the town post office.</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
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Maybe it is
different in Tbilisi or in affluent families but the children I have seen have
few toys and I haven’t seen a book other than school text books. There are no public libraries certainly in
the villages and the smaller towns. There
are toy shops, however, so someone must be buying them. In the village I saw one of my year 2s
running a toy truck through the puddles in the road outside the school. You will of course recall what those puddles consisted
of as the village was in effect a working farm! But that is the extent of playing that I
witnessed. I haven’t seen groups of boys playing football either or using the
school volley ball nets (although other TLGers have mentioned this)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgc5kKgsjLtLqdVMAtfqGNuczydrs6pqeH2LgzhIyp030Hf-23KAh6rsNlqBvB6JsJgUX3r62vQyYHxNBerqbLMaCQ3ljo6I-YwwagAwJXO0QJX-Ntbqq-BG82vhzUv59PtxEiboAIUCl/s1600/Teddy+bear+on+wall.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgc5kKgsjLtLqdVMAtfqGNuczydrs6pqeH2LgzhIyp030Hf-23KAh6rsNlqBvB6JsJgUX3r62vQyYHxNBerqbLMaCQ3ljo6I-YwwagAwJXO0QJX-Ntbqq-BG82vhzUv59PtxEiboAIUCl/s320/Teddy+bear+on+wall.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>A friend took this this pick of a teddy nailed to the wall of her host sister's bedroom wall. Similarly our first host daughter (aged 16) had preserved her childhood Barbie dolls on her wall.</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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Many of the
village children had private lessons after school and at the weekend. This would either be in the village with the
same school teachers who were manifestly not providing sufficient education in
the classroom or in the local town which was a 15 minute bus ride or an hour’s
walk away. This would take up a lot of
student’s time I guess especially as they often were tutored at weekends too. In addition to this they would have helped on
the family farms. From what I saw,
children watched a lot of TV, for older students – the music channels – and
played the dreaded computer games along with Facebook. Everyone had mobile phones and like their UK
equivalents were constantly talking or texting.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Another
interesting thing is that children are pretty well behaved from what I have
seen. I don’t mean at school, which is another issue altogether, but when they
are with their parents. For example when
mothers with 2, 3 or 4 year olds came to visit they brought no toys to keep
their children quiet while they chatted.
The children didn’t run off either but stood around munching on
khatchapuri when it was offered. There
was no “When are we going?” whines or
tantrumming. They were undemanding and
passive generally speaking. This is
about expectations I think. I was
holding and playing with a 4 month old baby of a young neighbour. She took the baby off me when she saw me
jiggling him and holding him up in the air going “Whee!” “He shouldn’t be too excited” was her
reason. All part of the socialisation
process.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It seems to
me that children in Georgia have been / are missing out on an important part of
their development. Okay, there is no
need to play on the railway lines, but children need to be given encouragement
and freedom to roam and develop their imagination and social skills. Making a den for example involves planning,
evaluation, delegation, leadership and teamwork. Even if you are doing this behind the sofa
or at the end of the garden by the shed these skills are still being developed. For Georgian children, their spare time would
have been taken up with working the farm or with studying but now the
technological age is upon us naturally any spare time now will revolve around
these options. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Maybe it is
the same for young people in all developed countries, less activity outside the
home and more time spent in front of the computer or similar. But for the Georgians I think there is an
additional problem because unlike western cultures the cultural impetus here
has been to encourage people towards passivity rather than thinking and
activity. What should young Georgians be
doing with their newly acquired freedom from the demands of farming or factory
work? The last thing young people need is to do more of the same inadequate
lessons (at a price) and to be held captive by the mesmerising technology that
keeps them focussed on their phone or computer screen.<o:p></o:p><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZYGsTgp0sqLc2jmqJUkUPyGrw76s3gYnvLDQ1UCi7tlnq8GVVMp4AVEalK0gDm3pDD9X3Oo3FV45uOUXdG20Jk70viDAco7r-8KyMnzlOXbxWWUyB22yV1aa6liF2o-lrCB5yfiWJdas/s1600/scout+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZYGsTgp0sqLc2jmqJUkUPyGrw76s3gYnvLDQ1UCi7tlnq8GVVMp4AVEalK0gDm3pDD9X3Oo3FV45uOUXdG20Jk70viDAco7r-8KyMnzlOXbxWWUyB22yV1aa6liF2o-lrCB5yfiWJdas/s320/scout+10.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>1st Scout pack in Georgia</i></b> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6vQsmSspA7QLuE1VE8m0v4ya4xDofA0wtXBvFnrqfMO9-EZ3jC8pI91lhOMf5K0Ax1VKVkmAUG1AUpUII3DiY-bJ5vBVjkxmlEoXNuJJhLGh29UcUn4qdk4B3sqacETS4AVhOXvt04b11/s1600/civic+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6vQsmSspA7QLuE1VE8m0v4ya4xDofA0wtXBvFnrqfMO9-EZ3jC8pI91lhOMf5K0Ax1VKVkmAUG1AUpUII3DiY-bJ5vBVjkxmlEoXNuJJhLGh29UcUn4qdk4B3sqacETS4AVhOXvt04b11/s320/civic+11.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Many schools are taking part in this US funded scheme to encourage civic-mindedness and leadership skills in young people.</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
To finish on
an optimistic note however, the Scouts movement is taking root as is an
initiative to set up after school clubs to develop an interest in community
social issues such as drug use in young people, disabled access and poverty in
the elderly. Funded by overseas aid,
maybe these groups are the start of the waking up of young people to gain a
sense of empowerment and a desire to be involved in growing a new Georgia by developing leadership skills and a civic-centred mindset.<o:p></o:p></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-9880761804659410522012-04-30T21:37:00.001+03:002012-04-30T21:41:14.968+03:00It's the System<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Monday 30<sup>th</sup> April 2012<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwgr9HDGtqgutSFBRNDBz-OdZCARIoJ2YEZDpyWWcxd5U6qQI9ZamdaDq-LNz-HxpdLm7uwrN4zNL5c_mLSFpLfuppCRigWzL87i5ETNaKghwt4ISf6pIGbOzW8ptjma7pXRuLM5pupkqq/s1600/096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwgr9HDGtqgutSFBRNDBz-OdZCARIoJ2YEZDpyWWcxd5U6qQI9ZamdaDq-LNz-HxpdLm7uwrN4zNL5c_mLSFpLfuppCRigWzL87i5ETNaKghwt4ISf6pIGbOzW8ptjma7pXRuLM5pupkqq/s320/096.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Year 6 students learning prepositions in a fun way</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I have just tested all
the students in Maka’s year 6 class. I
have just recorded how many of the “Fry’s 100 Picture nouns” they recognise and
how many of the words they can read.
This set of words is a basic vocabulary and I think is a quick way to
assess the level of the student’s language even if it is just serves as a
comparison between the students themselves.
These words are very common and students should be able to sight read
them to ensure that reading is fluent as it will save them time and make
reading less painful.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
These
children have been studying English for 4 years but are not at the same level,
in fact there is a wide range of ability.
The system here is that teachers present information to students by
working through a text book with exercises and the teaching methods used are
translation and rote learning. Parents
also pay for students to have private lessons after school, often with the same
teachers as they have at school. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So based on
this I have split the year classes into 3 groups; those who can work with the
teacher and follow the text book; those who have very limited English and don’t
confidently know numbers, colours and sentence structure and those who cannot
read and do not have basic understanding of letter. I will teach them. The teachers are happy with this. IN a way it is business as usual for them as
they ignore those who are in my groups. I have had a few lessons and it is
going well. One of my lads is obviously
dyslexic and I have gone to great pains to let him know that he is clever but
just has a problem with writing and reading.
He is working well with me and I intend to make sure he can at least
read before I leave. I also am aiming to
increase vocabulary and get them to be more confident speakers and
listeners. Well there is so much you can
do really it is just a matter of what time is available. They are hard work too as they do not focus
well and don’t have the learning habit so to speak which means they stop doing
what I am asking them to do as soon as I turn to give attention to another
group.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The system
is so frustrating. Teach and Learn with
Georgia (TLG) are not part of the educational system and does not have any
authority as such, they are responsible for the volunteers and making sure we
are ok and interacting with the schools and families on our behalf. The Georgian government may well have a view
on how they expect the volunteers to work with teachers to demonstrate new
working methods and ways of teaching.
However the schools still work to the old system and usually see
volunteers as teaching assistants who should work in the old ways. All the volunteers are amazed and frustrated
at this and don not see what their role should be as they are actively
discouraged to really participate in the lesson. I guess a combination of my experiences of
teaching challenging students in the UK and the kind of personality that can
sometimes feel like railroading has made it different for me most of the
time. I do a lot of teaching using
modern methods and two out of the three co-teachers have taken some of this on
board.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvkUEyMQisGecxSKjdMIZRqknxtDTenQBfPzvjo23OlBdNq-TFTixNBc62qPMq_HFN2OOhr5Pxusov8MjbYcBHgRHgJc58lM363J2V-zDZ6_llh1pu-PUt8bGI48Tuy4VIOQV6GR7FKlBN/s1600/398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvkUEyMQisGecxSKjdMIZRqknxtDTenQBfPzvjo23OlBdNq-TFTixNBc62qPMq_HFN2OOhr5Pxusov8MjbYcBHgRHgJc58lM363J2V-zDZ6_llh1pu-PUt8bGI48Tuy4VIOQV6GR7FKlBN/s320/398.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>"How to make Beans on Toast" The most important lesson in life!</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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However, Maka, the most
experienced of my co-teachers went from “training” about the MacMillan books
(the new text books). She came back
somewhat distressed by this as she has been told that only the first years can
continue with the 1<sup>st</sup> book (Red Book) next year. The remaining classes can continue until
Christmas if they haven’t finished but must all be moved up to the 2<sup>nd</sup>
book in January. This is the complete opposite
of what we have been told in meetings where the Minister of Education has been
present. This is a complete
disaster. As I have said before, the
culture here is that you have to say what you think is the right response
rather than what is the right response.
Students are given marks based on what their position is relative to the
other students; no real assessment of ability.
This follows through into University where degrees are handed out effectively based on attendance rather than assessment where students have met
previously agreed criteria. Without this
culture of assessment then yes, it is acceptable to move onto the next book
even if most of the students have not met the criteria for finishing the
previous book. What a depressing state
of affairs!<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The
educational system cannot be based on a text book that has not been produced
specifically for the Georgian Education System.
The lessons in the book are not differentiated – does not allow for
different abilities and assumes that lessons are 1 hour. MacMillan say and indeed common sense has to
tell you that the text book is a guide and as a teacher you have to adapt it to
your students. As each book builds on
the previous book it is only logical that when you start a particular book you
make sure that the students have been taught (not just gone through in class but actually
taught) to make sure they have the prior knowledge to start this level
book. This of course does not
happen. Teachers are in the unenviable
position of looking bad if their students are not at the level they are “meant
to be at” as based on the number of years they have been studying English. The teacher doesn’t want to look bad, the
School Director doesn’t want to look bad and therefore the boxes are ticked and
it “looks” like the students are on the level that they claim to be on other
than the “lazy students who don’t want to do anything”. The further you go up the years the more
students are left behind and then they wonder why at Year 12 they cannot pass
the exams, even when they have been told the answers.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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At some point or the other all
the volunteers ask themselves whether they are making a difference here and if
so what it is. The answer that you tell
yourself depends on how long you have been here and how many setbacks you have
had. I know the students have made a lot
of progress in the time I have been here and I know that the teachers have seen
new techniques but my feeling is that they will go back to the old ways when I
leave. I get a standing ovation when I
walk into the class, literally. It isn’t
a joke, they are not yanking my chain, they really are thrilled to be having
decent lessons delivered in a fun and interesting way. Poor kids – I hope my replacement volunteer
if they get one will be interactive as well.<o:p></o:p></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-47967454253265904982012-04-30T21:29:00.002+03:002012-04-30T21:29:19.992+03:00Bills<br />
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<b>Friday 27<sup>th</sup> April 2012<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnkTw9Dq62oNiXcSVhSGcsdKLJ4FlVfSH7Bkh8Ohoco2tDifQ74OKXYUQ0RW75E5Wklx3S4rx_9coYQ-BGYeYC177VWpQY_b5xEEZ-p_lEar7texQLpeR-5udcaanfN2miUlBWov_2cU0P/s1600/088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnkTw9Dq62oNiXcSVhSGcsdKLJ4FlVfSH7Bkh8Ohoco2tDifQ74OKXYUQ0RW75E5Wklx3S4rx_9coYQ-BGYeYC177VWpQY_b5xEEZ-p_lEar7texQLpeR-5udcaanfN2miUlBWov_2cU0P/s320/088.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Martin was quite justified after all to save all those jam coffee and Branston pickle jars "Just in Case!"</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Our electricity was cut
off last week. I came home from school
and assumed that there had been a power cut but when it hadn’t come back by 7pm
I thought something must be up and knocked next door. “Shuki? Ara?” (Light? No?) I say to the old
boy. He presses the switch and light
shines therefore we are in no doubt we have been cut off. This is confirmed by his gesture of writing
on his hand saying “Puli” (Money). We
had been sent a bill but ignored it for
the first 4 days and then we went on our travels over the Easter break. This was meant to only be for 5 days but we
spontaneously extended it to 10 days and on our return was thinking in terms of
paying all the bills together when we got paid this week.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We paid the
bill Saturday morning and was told by our co-teacher that we would be connected
Monday. I was horrified and I must
confess in quite a panic. On returning
home I gathered clothes together for the weekend “We can get the 8 o’clock
train to Tbilisi!” I call out on the run
to pack the bag. At that point I just
thought we had no choice but to get out but only the thought of whether we
could afford a hostel for the weekend or should we ponce off a friend and at
stay at hers made me reconsider. We
could brave it out that night and go in the morning – maybe we had enough
charge on our laptops to survive the night.
In the end we stayed at home. We
DID charge our laptops at another teacher’s house but we were on rations. We read until the light faded, cooked by
candle-light and then watched TV on our laptops until we went to bed by
candle-light where we lay talking about this and that. On the Saturday we went for a long walk
around the town and stopped for tea at the teacher’s house. It was quite nice in the end; but it was
clear to me that the computer “had gotta
hold of me” and this has to stop. There has to be more to life that sitting at a
computer looking for things to do. (Like write this blog lol) <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We also knew
that we had to eat the meat in the freezer that we had been saving for a rainy
day so Martin made a wonderful minced beef casserole to which I added the most
fabulous dumplings (See Kim I finally used the suet taken from your store
cupboard last Christmas) We had two good
meals out of that and made lots of plans for the rest of the mince and
the 2 chicken breasts but unfortunately the electricity did not return until
Tuesday night by which time the meat had gone off and bled all over the last of
our parmesan cheese to add insult to injury. Damn and blast!
With pay day a week away this meant that we were going on potatoes, pasta and
eggs for a week. Martin switched the
mains on and off a few times and it returned so in all likelihood it was back
Monday and we just didn’t know.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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One of my
co-teachers was sympathetic as they assumed it was lack of funds and not
mismanagement that resulted in the disconnection. She said that every month “I am shaking”
because she is worried she won’t be able to pay her bills. Compared with England the Georgian approach
to utility payment is pretty draconian.
You receive bills monthly and have 3 weeks to pay it before you are cut
off without warning. This is how it is
for everyone. Although prices are cheap
compared to England it is expensive to live here if you live on Georgian
money. Our bill was only 14 lari (£5.30)
but there is no concession for the amount that is owed. Our gas bill this month was 106 lari
(£40). A teacher here earns only 200
lari a month. No wonder they live on
pasta, bread and potatoes and relish the 6 weeks of lent where they follow
virtually a vegan diet.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
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o:title="099"/>
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</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->When we at the Botanical
gardens a week or so ago we came across this huge modernistic building. We tried to think what it might be as it had
a huge silver sphere in a glass column, a helicopter pad, huge swimming pool
and was all in all a most interesting building.
It was in a great position, at the top of the hill looking over the
city. Eventually we stopped a couple of people and asked and they told us. A hotel?, Museum?, Government offices? No, it
was the home, yes home, of the leader of the opposition party. Really?
It seems to me to be in bad taste.
If I were an ordinary Georgian I would look at that and never vote for
that party. Do they under stand what it
is like for the common folk? I don’t
think so.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJrO_2ExnTd5D4QwEEJDBjrv0VX_dt0x1c0nZOIfrBmUtZudZXsOQMUgZn_yw2uAm00llFy_Cerh_qM5BsSxnxdF203m-m6XsaOnUipUJpNE_XUDw06EHGz0fHi-Ytmt8j6xaKvp0n5cQb/s1600/099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJrO_2ExnTd5D4QwEEJDBjrv0VX_dt0x1c0nZOIfrBmUtZudZXsOQMUgZn_yw2uAm00llFy_Cerh_qM5BsSxnxdF203m-m6XsaOnUipUJpNE_XUDw06EHGz0fHi-Ytmt8j6xaKvp0n5cQb/s320/099.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>A Carbunkle</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVC_bn9Wvc4Yp385dlEdU2mLTtSJw3lLU8Idzo4Jz0oc8cNbdqCPt0VsoQsaKNwQXgffxQDWmQhKdUGwsSYYwJcIlJ_xqHXffQLQ1nE_Y3pBFZeXedwZDf2nIT2CZZjW5nOPMkFAVgHknk/s1600/132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVC_bn9Wvc4Yp385dlEdU2mLTtSJw3lLU8Idzo4Jz0oc8cNbdqCPt0VsoQsaKNwQXgffxQDWmQhKdUGwsSYYwJcIlJ_xqHXffQLQ1nE_Y3pBFZeXedwZDf2nIT2CZZjW5nOPMkFAVgHknk/s320/132.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>View from the Carbunkle of the City and Sameba Cathedral</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
To end on an
amusing note however, I made sure we were not late with all the other bills
that were piling up I took them to the bank (with my passport – it is not clear
why I need this) of course I cannot read
what the bills are about other than where it says Gazi or Electro at the top of
the bill so I asked the cashier what a particular bill was for. She looked at it for a moment and then said
“This is a receipt for some medicines you bought in the pharmacy.” Oh how we laughed.<o:p></o:p></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-9366818833614118262012-04-30T21:13:00.000+03:002012-04-30T21:13:55.880+03:00Easter with the Beels<br />
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<b>Thursday 26<sup>th</sup> April 2012<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQKJyakgrB4i6l1sV_Ad7aB73pmAM-4NNDx5EXZjQTRDHK9PkAJynMw23RT6jW1VFpiElEiHotcb6omltwEi9iZV-1Sse_0iIkelMvTw-CEUkaZs8ehRWnzvK9Cu5NMRjtcGdcHHzIz7S/s1600/048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQKJyakgrB4i6l1sV_Ad7aB73pmAM-4NNDx5EXZjQTRDHK9PkAJynMw23RT6jW1VFpiElEiHotcb6omltwEi9iZV-1Sse_0iIkelMvTw-CEUkaZs8ehRWnzvK9Cu5NMRjtcGdcHHzIz7S/s320/048.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b>In the top right hand corner the statement "Europe starts here" is an interesting perspective,</b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It’s quite a difficult
thing, writing a blog. You have to
consider what the purpose of the blog is and who the intended audience is and
without these two points in mind a blog can become really boring and its focus weakened. I have read many blogs where this is the
case! I don’t intend it to be a
day-by-day record of my life in Georgia (I know many of you will be
disappointed! Haha) and I don’t intend it to be a “Travel Blog” containing
information about the different places to visit, how much it costs and tips on
hotels. There is also a lot to be said about the political system, the rapid
changes that are taking place here and who is financing them, the debate about
whether Georgia is “European or Asian”, the treatment of women, immigrants or
homosexuality; corruption – to what extent it still exists. There are many laudable topics that deserve
to be disseminated and discussed and maybe if this blog were to continue for a
long while I would draw your attention to these issues as I understood more
about them. So the difficulty when
writing this blog is what to leave out rather than what to include and I revisit
this question every now and again to make sure I remember it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So the
purpose of this blog is to share my experience of being a volunteer teacher in
Georgia, how I adapt and adjust to the educational system here and the impact
life in Georgia has on my life choices.
All about me really!!! Last year we
went to Armenia for a week. It was
great, we saw lovely places and I celebrated my birthday there but I didn’t
include this in my blog; I just put my photos up on Facebook. So I hesitate here to include a “what I did
in the school holidays” post. However,
as any teacher knows, the school holidays are eagerly awaited and it is no
different in Georgia. Also, we are
coming to the end of our time in this country and as we return to England
straight away this is the main opportunity to see places we haven’t yet seen. The long, cold winter put paid to being a
tourist. So this is a round-up of what
we did over the break.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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</div>
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The first event on the
Friday after school was to go to the circus.
It had arrived in Kaspi early in the week from Gori and was slowly
assembled. It would have been considered
a little tacky and unsophisticated by European standards but like so many
things in Georgia, takes me back to my very unsophisticated childhood and a
time that we “Didn’t know any different” and therefore was less critical and
discerning. The audience here enjoyed it
for what it was. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfwpFvTWPHvbAhSs5kyDT-k3yLuns47SS0_e1UF8kZxpXS8lqgeAQO7SWFNYvOZ50n1m7FeDzWvYj1LdSYia4FQMf0IcIXnKDUFipuL6uPujGOWgxdB7I0yImYrjT7RFrD4hF75mUIh2X/s1600/409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfwpFvTWPHvbAhSs5kyDT-k3yLuns47SS0_e1UF8kZxpXS8lqgeAQO7SWFNYvOZ50n1m7FeDzWvYj1LdSYia4FQMf0IcIXnKDUFipuL6uPujGOWgxdB7I0yImYrjT7RFrD4hF75mUIh2X/s320/409.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The Clown and the Ringmaster - Grandpa and Grandma</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There were
the usual circus acts, the clowns (or in this case the clown, the grandfather
of the family) and the ring master (The gran of the family) who also doubled as
the animal trainer) along with uni-cyclists and gymnastic displays (acrobatics
on a large ring hanging from the ceiling of the big top) . The clown got children from the audience to
be humiliated for the pleasure of all but it was harmless fun but interestingly
one pubescent boy didn’t take it too well.
The game was to get 4 boys of increasing height to bend over in a line
in leapfrog fashion with the purpose of each one to jump over the one in front
and the next one. However the “trick”
was to get the littlest one to pretend not to make it over the biggest one and
instead to cling to him piggy back style.
This little boy is one of my students and is part of the circus family
so obviously he played his part well.
But the victim wasn’t happy and really went into a sulk, kicking the
wall around the ring and really showing off for quite a while after it was
over. Lots of Georgian male strutting,
arm gestures, outraged face, needing to be held back by his mates allegedly for
everyone else’s protection. Someone
should have told him not to sit in the front row or to volunteer in the first
place.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9atP4VEhvJ-7veYOzo0XyO14NZQVbiAEHMnfzjd20hnyauXtcGBG4QY4358sqaG9IxQc8gN0T3wZeKrDei4bA7rNJlmGfTIQyst-9PAPnXiG-9yGTV8tRx4txZtbmCdX3toQ98UReEGt/s1600/circus+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9atP4VEhvJ-7veYOzo0XyO14NZQVbiAEHMnfzjd20hnyauXtcGBG4QY4358sqaG9IxQc8gN0T3wZeKrDei4bA7rNJlmGfTIQyst-9PAPnXiG-9yGTV8tRx4txZtbmCdX3toQ98UReEGt/s320/circus+4.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The Uni-cyclist and the Bear</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The Granny ring master /
animal trainer watched the other acts like a hawk and she was furious when any
of the acts made a mistake which I think made them even more nervous but her
animal acts were funny and piteous at the same time. I have no problem with the little poodles who
for some reason are dressed up in silver bikinis and walk on their hind legs
while she feeds them “doggy-bitz”. It
did go on for a long while with them parading around in gypsy outfits followed
by golden bikinis on their hind legs – the act wore thin. She tried to vary her acts by changing from
the spangles dress and blonde wig of the ring master to the black haired bitch
with the slutty bondage look as the snake charmer where she strutted around and
did what might be considered inappropriate activities with her mouth and the
snake’s head for what was a family audience.
The dogs pooped on the floor during the “Doggie – show-jumping” act
which surprising smelt incredibly nasty.
We had the pony act where the pony stamped his hooves to demand
“Donkley-bitz” which wasn’t pleasant to watch.
But the worst was yet to come with the young muzzled bear climbing on
boxes. No-one in the audience seemed to
think this was amusing at all which is a relief.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We travelled to Tbilisi
and the following day wewent to Kaheti region which is known as a wine region
and was very serene. It is surprising
how different geographically the different regions are to each other. Very green.
Naturally we visited many monasteries and churches as Georgia is full of
them and they are indeed very beautiful.
As always women have to cover their heads, shoulders, cleavage and any
hint of a vagina (for trouser wearers) and luckily they supply the necessary
scarves.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In this
region we paid a driver to take us to the sights around Telavi on the first day
and then to drive us to Signaghi to see the sights on the second day. We had a lovely Mexican meal (we were very
excited about this) and the restaurant had amazing views over the area.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next day
we took the marshutka over to Borjomi which is a spa town famed for its health
giving bottled water and was once a popular tourist town with the
Russians. The president has a house here
so that he can go skiing at the weekends at Bakuriani. We had a pleasant walk through nearby forests
and rivers which were running fast and furious but ironically the town itself
had a water problem and water was only appearing at 2 in the morning. The recent thawing of the heavy snow meant
that the water pipes that were damaged over the winter needed to be
repaired. Rather ironic that in the town
famed for its water there was none! <o:p></o:p></div>
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We spend the next day
travelling to and seeing the sights around Vardzia a cave city that was
constructed in 1256; but I guess that people lived in the “natural” caves there
for many years before that for protection.
This was such a strange and wonderful place – one of my favourites.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We took the
1902 train up to Bakuriani, a ski resort that took 2 ½ hours but was pleasant
and stopped at several pretty villages that had a distinctive Swiss Alpine feel
so yet another change in the geography with spectacular views of the mountains.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Back in Tbilisi we did a
day trip to the old capital Mtskheta which was quiet with a beautiful cathedral
(no surprises there of course!). <o:p></o:p></div>
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Didube bus
station was alive with Easter preparations with many stalls selling Easter food
and candles. They take Easter here very
seriously and many do actually fast vegan style for the 6 weeks of Lent. Unlike
in the UK where Christmas is the religious season of choice, Georgia pays
relatively little attention to Christmas and focusses instead on the more
significant event in the church calendar. Then back home to dear old Kaspi
where we chilled for the weekend before going back to school for the final half
term.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-37474105601339040122012-03-24T14:06:00.000+03:002012-03-24T14:06:40.994+03:00Where's a Dutch Boy When You Need One?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Tuesday 20th March 2012<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">The tap in the sink in the shower room has refused to turn off. Unfortunately this is the hot tap and although the water only runs twice a day for 3 hours we can’t really leave it like that, running the boiler, so we have had to turn the boiler off. This means that when we do want to actually use hot water we have to turn the boiler on again but now there is a reduced water pressure and as the tap is running which means that the SHOWER is a drip! Actually the switch on the shower that takes it from a shower to a tap is also broken so the shower really is now a little spray whist your knees and feet are run under the tap.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">We texted the owner on Sunday evening and he sent a man round that night which was very efficient. However he prodded and poked and then told Martin that he would have to buy new taps on Monday and sort it out himself. Really? I don’t think so. I get on the phone to our co-ordinator who speaks to the owner. He confirms that we have to sort it out as he bought new taps before we moved in and he ain’t gonna buy any more. Hmmm I am sure there is a logic to this somewhere but it bypassed me. So the co-ordinator now gets on the phone to our school Director who sends my 2 co-teachers round after school with the school handy man. Zaza is a good bloke and takes the taps off, makes lots of noises and says we need new taps. I would just like to give him the money and say get on with it but no, Zaza, me and my 2 co-teachers go down to the shops and hunt around the 3 builders merchants (you know I mean little shops with an assortment of boxes ? Like a crushed Jarvo’s) for a single tap as the decision is that we block the hot tap and just have a cold tap.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype
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o:title="099"/> <w:wrap type="square"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Against the odds we are successful and back we go. I am sure Zaza was saying “This is a pile of shit” when he was trying to attach the newly acquired tap but my Georgian isn’t good enough yet to know for sure. The upshot is that the water pipes themselves are no good. The building is not in very good condition as you may recall and it is this that is the problem. What is the answer? Just block off the pipes and take the tap back to the shop for a refund.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOr2pmj7BTWQ9E0YOGOn94QtmwZyEU4TPFb5__RWE_DQoUSicqGxjTLvQ7qxehga0lxYE5oIc8rSrROLyUg2DtYruztprWZZuVhWx_d4rhw-JVmW996zNMb5eKt7PP0aPrJDykAoIWgz5/s1600/099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOr2pmj7BTWQ9E0YOGOn94QtmwZyEU4TPFb5__RWE_DQoUSicqGxjTLvQ7qxehga0lxYE5oIc8rSrROLyUg2DtYruztprWZZuVhWx_d4rhw-JVmW996zNMb5eKt7PP0aPrJDykAoIWgz5/s320/099.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">They were trimming back trees round the corner and so Zaza forages for the perfect pipe sized branch and hammers it into the foresaid water pipes. At 7.30 when the water returns they hold out, a wooden version of the little Dutch boy who put his finger in the dyke.<o:p></o:p></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-84283393066193347922012-03-24T14:00:00.000+03:002012-03-24T14:00:32.655+03:00The Family come to Kaspi<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Tuesday 20th March 2012<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Our village family are coming to Kaspi for a traditional roast dinner. I feel like a newly married wife who are hosting “the family” for the first time. We don’t really know what this means. We know that there are 10 people coming and this includes my old teachers and there will be men there as well. We think this means that Martin will have to go to a restaurant and buy them wine and food. Apparently when I issued invites I invited everyone and told them that was what we would do. I was drunk and therefore do not remember this at all. Blame the cha-cha that’s what I say! <o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzm_R29c9hYYXimchsdcFNp4Omx9N4p1hh4ZSeZlaF5wZiyECKEqPVNAmGbNLsJZz0Rt0xqn6ukCfg5-JxFv9KHyltchSNoL9IIIMYC_bDMDg2WZLIhOk2dmuKU860J6xqCEjRWu3t_gzV/s1600/031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzm_R29c9hYYXimchsdcFNp4Omx9N4p1hh4ZSeZlaF5wZiyECKEqPVNAmGbNLsJZz0Rt0xqn6ukCfg5-JxFv9KHyltchSNoL9IIIMYC_bDMDg2WZLIhOk2dmuKU860J6xqCEjRWu3t_gzV/s320/031.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype
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o:title="031"/> <w:wrap type="square"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->There was quite a bit of preparation as you probably realise. First, the cleaning, which other than the obvious, no-one notices or appreciates. Martin had a thing about the curtains so we washed, dried and ironed the curtains! It was a windy day and so this wasn’t the usual 4 day turnaround for clothes-drying. I shouldn’t complain really – when I think of the work in running a home with 3 children this is nothing, but well, it’s what you get used to, isn’t it? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQo9xdCcK1L2p-NY3Le1OSOJ1jnV6MidgDD2SN7sucxVSzMryXGGcDnL49kx6yutz9fmHA5J0TirBWRdInlQCjprARfkBSbAD7lfd3ZSBNyh97qaGpnC0nRTOqzM37bMb1IuiGsgrmbLJD/s1600/030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQo9xdCcK1L2p-NY3Le1OSOJ1jnV6MidgDD2SN7sucxVSzMryXGGcDnL49kx6yutz9fmHA5J0TirBWRdInlQCjprARfkBSbAD7lfd3ZSBNyh97qaGpnC0nRTOqzM37bMb1IuiGsgrmbLJD/s320/030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">We were going for roast beef, Yorkshire pudding (Aunt Bessie’s generosity has meant I haven’t made this since 1998), roast potatoes, carrots, peas, runner beans and cauliflower cheese. For dessert there is a choice of apple crumble and custard, bread pudding and my newly traditional chocolate rice pudding, plus my old traditional coconut pyramids. Much discussion was had about this menu, not all things are possible in Georgia. Carrots and potatoes are plentiful but I forgot to buy the frozen veg in Tbilisi (you can’t buy it everywhere) so we had to make do with the little we had left in the freezer. I found 2 cauliflowers but the price! I paid 5 lari for 2 small cauliflowers. That’s the equivalent of 5 kilo of potatoes or my return bus ride to Tbilisi. Never one for economy I now think in Georgian money and not sterling and so £1 each – eek! The cheese is another concern – the village cheese is salty rather than cheesy and I have no idea what the cheese on the market stall tastes like but I take a chance and buy a small round of cheese. This is a big event inviting them round – like Christmas so we bite the bullet. This is only the second time we have bought meat in Georgia. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape
id="_x0000_s1026" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;margin-left:263.25pt;
margin-top:9.25pt;width:202.5pt;height:182.35pt;z-index:251655168'> <v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\JENNIF~1\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image003.jpg"
o:title="030" cropleft="11005f"/> <w:wrap type="square"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">The butcher’s is like the old, old days kind of butcher. I don’t recognise the cuts of meat and I ask “How much?” and point to what looks like a very large, thick steak and a man (there are 5 of them in the shop huddled round a bottle of cha-cha and a bowl of little fish) traces 12 on the glass cabinet with his finger. I confirm that the meat is beef by making little horn gestures with my fingers and saying “Droghes” (cow – but if you don’t say it perfectly they don’t seem to be able to work it out, hence the gestures) The total is 27 lari about £10 – that is expensive! (A teacher here earns 200 lari a month)<o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwRITCq36W16bS5RRSu3CklE6y2UI7SlTJlZy7djzwg8LJ_Y65QALtJxvef01cryWuyNShj9yIxCJhYS5vehBcw6tl-PrLosI_Idhzh4bgmzPGPPvmC4izJVtWerC6T7pWsCkzUbdzYRG/s1600/021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwRITCq36W16bS5RRSu3CklE6y2UI7SlTJlZy7djzwg8LJ_Y65QALtJxvef01cryWuyNShj9yIxCJhYS5vehBcw6tl-PrLosI_Idhzh4bgmzPGPPvmC4izJVtWerC6T7pWsCkzUbdzYRG/s320/021.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Martin prepped the veg – 1 bucket of potatoes and carrots while I make the desserts. The oven is temperamental and my skills uncertain and so burnt food is a serious option so I try to be careful. Also I have no weighing scales and an irregular sized tablespoon so accuracy is but a distant dream I’m afraid. However, I didn’t do too badly! The coconut pyramids were a bit dry and the bottoms <!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="_x0000_s1027" type="#_x0000_t75"
style='position:absolute;margin-left:207.75pt;margin-top:2.7pt;width:248.25pt;
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o:title="021"/> <w:wrap type="square"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->burnt – and it has to be said that they are less appealing visually without the glace cherry on top but the crumble was a delight as was the rice pudding a-la-choclat! The bread pudding was too sweet but nicely spiced. The Yorkshire Pudding – after much on-line consultation with Kim Bower (aka the cake lady) did rise on one side.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrp6tUIiXK3Mwqep96OcPXqEi1AecUrNxM010MlhAP_T1L1fPnNSgboPILkys8hnQkAWDMjHot4Wa1OfkgUeFiZ52IMcAcCcea-ZfZo5AJX688Wyyo0Z6GKT_WxZf8KuMGwG71PHwr2KY4/s1600/049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrp6tUIiXK3Mwqep96OcPXqEi1AecUrNxM010MlhAP_T1L1fPnNSgboPILkys8hnQkAWDMjHot4Wa1OfkgUeFiZ52IMcAcCcea-ZfZo5AJX688Wyyo0Z6GKT_WxZf8KuMGwG71PHwr2KY4/s320/049.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape
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o:title="080"/> <w:wrap type="square"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->So we are ready and waiting. ETA 2.00 but that may or may not mean anything to the Georgians. I have also invited my new co-teachers and they arrive on the dot at the expected hour bringing delicious chocolates and home-made wine. They arrive shortly after in a mini-bus laden with bags of food and alcohol streaming through the door “Hallo Jenni-fair, Mart-een – ee” Kiss, Kiss, Kiss. They get to work unloading their food (yes you heard right) onto the table and making themselves at home. I stick the roast potatoes in the oven. Hmmm. They have brought with them cha-cha, litres of wine, soft drinks made from fresh fruit, 6 large khachapuri, rice salads, vegetable salads, 1 huge jar of pickled tomatoes and peppers, 20 hard boiled eggs, roast chickens, about 12 of those rolls that are filled with rice I think I have covered it. “I hope they have room for my roast dinner” I say to my new co-teachers who are helping me in the kitchen. Suddenly they pour into the kitchen and pick up the kitchen table – they need more room – and in it goes. There is a rugby match between Russia and Georgia on at 3 and so there is a lot of fiddling and tuning of the TV to get it to the right channel.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">How fantastic they just made themselves at home just happy to be together with us and laughing and drinking and eating. The ladies (Manana, Eka (family), Julieta, Katy (my old co-teachers), Jana and Tamriko (teacher friends) and little Rusadan) had a good look around the apartment nodding approvingly – “It’s just you here? You have a lot of space!” The men, 3 husbands, my old school director and the driver Dato sat and drank and ate.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">By now my expectations for my perfectly timed roast beef dinner for 16 were very low! The food came out in bowls on the table and they tried it, but were not impressed. They loved the meat but didn’t see the point of the gravy and weren’t really hungry enough to eat much else also they did eat <!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape
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o:title="045"/> <w:wrap type="square"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->a little of the vegetables that I put onto their plates so that at least they tried them. Georgians eat from side plates with just a fork and use bread to push the food onto their forks. So they used the Yorkshire pudding in the same way – but who am I to argue? In the same way, because the English eat from big plates we take a bit of meat and potato and veg on the same forkful to get a blend of the flavours but they don’t do that. So it is a whole different way of doing it. But the reality is, they are not actually interested in trying anything new. It’s a bit like when package holidays first opened up in Spain and Brits would go there and want to eat fish and chips (they still do haha) and not that foreign muck. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYSYLElOVwtHykDJDcrmnbAbohc8JE15zP_TX2_5r-gCqvUeUL-ulsTykYOujQwKRQXIwwd1AAuJhYrGQmGPyyCh8sHvQiYhJqPMIFfCyNBhF-dG530T26Se4rFC2vHhODr75Vm0-gxipj/s1600/037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYSYLElOVwtHykDJDcrmnbAbohc8JE15zP_TX2_5r-gCqvUeUL-ulsTykYOujQwKRQXIwwd1AAuJhYrGQmGPyyCh8sHvQiYhJqPMIFfCyNBhF-dG530T26Se4rFC2vHhODr75Vm0-gxipj/s320/037.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEs_Hd64uS5pzjc04qkuasqONT7D8Rjuf9v9D699l3zYFDf3ZgKzAvEbfzlpIendL12MgxBaK6SA3E0yjv2-1U6v_dcFMpjZOqH5EjVxdvdx2us7ry8ysdy063iVbbmBjusxYd5Oc9ip0r/s1600/036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEs_Hd64uS5pzjc04qkuasqONT7D8Rjuf9v9D699l3zYFDf3ZgKzAvEbfzlpIendL12MgxBaK6SA3E0yjv2-1U6v_dcFMpjZOqH5EjVxdvdx2us7ry8ysdy063iVbbmBjusxYd5Oc9ip0r/s320/036.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZE1G4cpuqiZn-zTaFpeWvKAbnZ5gveIKdPnzaNtvMWiUsC2nCsHdLMbZKuhswnwNl5OngdpbEDFDpK9hZLbJ3x5aXoPF9-2wt330iYjVyIX8emtPsD3gbVGdSB9XNoj78ZqjTL3ah42o/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZE1G4cpuqiZn-zTaFpeWvKAbnZ5gveIKdPnzaNtvMWiUsC2nCsHdLMbZKuhswnwNl5OngdpbEDFDpK9hZLbJ3x5aXoPF9-2wt330iYjVyIX8emtPsD3gbVGdSB9XNoj78ZqjTL3ah42o/s320/025.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">They liked the bread pudding but were not too sure about the apple crumble or the chocolate rice pudding both of which were proved in the eating and were delicious by my standards!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_yM88nNPR0IXgbgTYHgo4YDrQrybIPAxivyofgeYwOiYWBYgPkk5Zsz2E9jJNNtrpc8cAw1y_kcZnLngdqjbQuT_1EUxo7zJochvnG3H-ufaIUQS8vpMhzIx766BYA6VHA1DriC0d2ezg/s1600/044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_yM88nNPR0IXgbgTYHgo4YDrQrybIPAxivyofgeYwOiYWBYgPkk5Zsz2E9jJNNtrpc8cAw1y_kcZnLngdqjbQuT_1EUxo7zJochvnG3H-ufaIUQS8vpMhzIx766BYA6VHA1DriC0d2ezg/s320/044.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape
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o:title="093"/> <w:wrap type="square"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->The Georgians won the rugby so much jubilation. My old teachers told my new teachers how wonderful me and Martin are and asked if I still arrived late for the 1<sup>st</sup> lesson. Rather embarrassingly I am late once a week at least and arrive as the lesson is starting. When I think that in England I had an hour’s journey and would get in an hour early and now I have a 7 minute walk and get there at 9. (See I have it timed to the minute). Julieta tells me they have now found another host family and I am to tell the co-ordinator that I want to go back to the village next semester. (Oh dear) At 6 they left as they arrived, packed their bags and streamed out with kisses and goodbyes and piled back into the mini-bus.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8XaCiu9hlfjWI7R4CYcqLWg5RLp9aE_vFyNK7JZlDnmQ7kvt2qst9FS9vzMj59Hc0bOA4H9LFStGVSYNg77sieYmYwllvOR6za-VGL-rep3CixtZVOzYgc0Ofd51byao0bW_kvbeWu__7/s1600/093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8XaCiu9hlfjWI7R4CYcqLWg5RLp9aE_vFyNK7JZlDnmQ7kvt2qst9FS9vzMj59Hc0bOA4H9LFStGVSYNg77sieYmYwllvOR6za-VGL-rep3CixtZVOzYgc0Ofd51byao0bW_kvbeWu__7/s320/093.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">We had a delicious roast dinner the next evening with the leftovers (there wasn’t much left over in the end) but we still have a week of rice pudding and crumble ahead of us!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-34213275098499033142012-03-09T22:28:00.001+03:002012-03-09T22:29:59.150+03:00Wash Day Blues<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Thursday 9th March 2012<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Today is International Women’s Day and we have a day off school. Hoorah! How am I going to celebrate this wonderful day? Doing the washing! Martin bless him has been doing the laundry because I have not been able to wring out clothes but I discovered last week that I can now do this when without thinking wrung out socks because they were dripping all over the lounge floor. So with great gusto I organised an assembly line of hot water bucket filling and cold water bottle filling to maximise the amount of water we could store before the water cut off at 10.30. But you know what? Because it was a special day they let us lady folk have an extra ½ hour of water time. Who ever said that women have a hard time of it here in Georgia?!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCX3ITHDcFjI7q3AI3Ie3P67Nt_1LS1yNYowsqIkeomhU9kApgsL7tU9Hr5hc1PlTnQhlhRhRQifpAoOgkAvwvLXMD1X0tq7U3ffZhy8ZnMrT1MgYHf3yvYAI37Lv5NleqQ7wS2mY9wp_m/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCX3ITHDcFjI7q3AI3Ie3P67Nt_1LS1yNYowsqIkeomhU9kApgsL7tU9Hr5hc1PlTnQhlhRhRQifpAoOgkAvwvLXMD1X0tq7U3ffZhy8ZnMrT1MgYHf3yvYAI37Lv5NleqQ7wS2mY9wp_m/s320/001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTEDgoSfVyRDdJZnxu_rb7rkU-V4wvbVrQt_NTx8lW5WJMZcqQ-xsMuLGjKw94rvs0zjYiIX8ab7MnYUwYEmHGULuYuAgYjlNjj_x1hISf8m5EhlS8xhWr9Xv3NMxgd5_elEy_XKv13KJE/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTEDgoSfVyRDdJZnxu_rb7rkU-V4wvbVrQt_NTx8lW5WJMZcqQ-xsMuLGjKw94rvs0zjYiIX8ab7MnYUwYEmHGULuYuAgYjlNjj_x1hISf8m5EhlS8xhWr9Xv3NMxgd5_elEy_XKv13KJE/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Because it is freezing cold in the shower room as soon as you turn on the shower it is like a steam room. <br />
We started panicking that the water would run out so we started to fill buckets while the twin-tub-without-the-twin chug-chugged.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RQsXQaug2mAOScaw4PIYJAdA2mI_26C0IPqph6Zk-35Xy0Ynf57DhSBB69fhU6fH0-45tHBUAH9cZISZ0loV-gAgrdowpAMNUFv6JdV46ynjU5Dd6DpwMUH1GDrGVbvoqMaGvS2CnjHx/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RQsXQaug2mAOScaw4PIYJAdA2mI_26C0IPqph6Zk-35Xy0Ynf57DhSBB69fhU6fH0-45tHBUAH9cZISZ0loV-gAgrdowpAMNUFv6JdV46ynjU5Dd6DpwMUH1GDrGVbvoqMaGvS2CnjHx/s320/002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_hvrRz3jlIzEaB6BkmEva7fX6LiiZWa3U6APKPXITldULMkZrck5lGRbCgexmWBcYAbOOqN_GaQBL2oRpo3ykbWJOQFDF2U0Vw2GqB5nvXKUzwkVxFTJ4tdpBSb0Qs1WTG_QPz0CNqX-o/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_hvrRz3jlIzEaB6BkmEva7fX6LiiZWa3U6APKPXITldULMkZrck5lGRbCgexmWBcYAbOOqN_GaQBL2oRpo3ykbWJOQFDF2U0Vw2GqB5nvXKUzwkVxFTJ4tdpBSb0Qs1WTG_QPz0CNqX-o/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">It was the first properly sunny day for two centuries and so Martin peeled back the plastic double glazing so that we could access the washing lines from inside the apartment through the window. We were working as a tag team, hanging out the washing from both windows at the same time and Martin – as enthusiastic as ever – thought he could treat the lines as if they were on pulleys and not manky old rope strung round two rusty old metal pipes. Consequently, the barely held together washing line broke dramatically under the strain of our PJs and fell to the floor. I was rendered speechless but my face said “What on earth possessed you to imagine for one brief moment that you could tug a Georgian washing line with 500 weight of wet washing on it without it giving up the will to live????” Actually speech returned fairly quickly after the initial shock and my face was no longer required. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-iCnsCKi37I6fcPzhhb5YGiC_yPT9cZ8EbpyBiTKdnEW2kSBr-dxuIg5K9O2cugZA_Aesnbe3MLL67eAh-nfkNTtGfdRLUXSwekWiBeMdeSa4RLnJggrwo-qDhUZDa7JHWLQKGlenaCp/s1600/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-iCnsCKi37I6fcPzhhb5YGiC_yPT9cZ8EbpyBiTKdnEW2kSBr-dxuIg5K9O2cugZA_Aesnbe3MLL67eAh-nfkNTtGfdRLUXSwekWiBeMdeSa4RLnJggrwo-qDhUZDa7JHWLQKGlenaCp/s320/010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Martin fixed the rope by tying many, many scout knots which has in fact stood the test of time – well at least until the next time. Look! I am a proper Georgian Housewife!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-71330070841472948812012-03-09T22:17:00.002+03:002012-03-09T22:17:58.127+03:00Doctor Doctor<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Wednesday 7<sup>th</sup> March 2012<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">My family doctor is in Tbilisi which is over an hour’s journey away and involves a marshutka, metro, a bus and a 10 minute walk. I had arranged to go on Monday this week which involved taking the day off and because we were in Tbilisi on Sunday, I stayed over at a fellow TLGer’s to make it easier. This is the first night in Georgia I have spent without Martin and only about the 3<sup>rd</sup> time since we have been married. So it felt a little odd! I was 3 minutes with the family doctor. “Come back tomorrow at 5, the rheumatologist is better than the one you are meant to see today.” Who am I to argue? So after school on Tuesday I return to the city and arrive early for the appointment having had a mooch around both the market at Didube and the one at Station Square. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">I have to say that this was very nice as Martin (Gawd luv im) is a hopeless shopping companion when you are looking for a mooch. He is great when there is a specific purchase to be had but otherwise he just stands there waiting when I want to peruse and it is very off-putting. Even worse though is when I ask him for his opinion about some casual bauble and he just ignores me. I bought a big bag of sweets, 3 more alien balls with the flashing lights and a wallet for Martin’s birthday. I popped into the Goodwill supermarket to get a ready-made filled roll for lunch (these are not easily found) and interestingly, the meat filled delights had been replaced by vegetarian options. Lenten fasting is taken pretty seriously here – eat as much cakes and sweets as you like but no meat, fish or dairy. So I had a delicious sesame seeded roll with a slice of fried potato and mushrooms in mayonnaise. It was a lucky surprise though as it was labelled chicken Caesar. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Anyway, I arrived 20 minutes early for the appointment as I was warned that the Rheumatologist had many patients and I was being slotted in at the last minute and if a Georgian emphasises the need to be on time then I knew it was serious. Waiting, waiting, waiting. “She is going to be half an hour late” I am reliably informed. Or unreliably as it turned out as she didn’t come at all. For those who know me well, do you remember the old days when I used to be a somewhat impatient kind of person??!! Well Georgia is doing its best to eradicate this delightful tendency by putting me in situations where I am forced to confront it on a daily basis. “Come back tomorrow and see the Rheumatologist that you were booked to see on Monday.” Then I am dismissed and told that a car will be taking me to the Marshutka station so that I can catch the last one home at 7 and that it will be there in 5 minutes. I ring the insurance company after 15 minutes of waiting in the cold. “Ah you are finished and want the driver to collect you now?” Should’ve rung straight away and not trusted what the doctor said, but ever the optimist that I am I thought they knew what they were talking about. I made it in time for the last Marshutka but a drunk kept falling on me as he slept. Still it makes a change, it’s normally me who falls asleep on everyone else.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Cannot face yet another trip to Tbilisi and so have arranged to try again next Tuesday with the Rheumatologist that I saw in the very first place who is the best one. The trouble is, I don’t really know if she is the better or not. She could be the family doctor’s friend or she could be getting a kick back if she passes on patients to them. It’s in the hands of the Gods!<o:p></o:p></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-22386698851666845412012-03-09T22:14:00.000+03:002012-03-09T22:14:38.580+03:00""Making Lessons Fun!"<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Thursday 8<sup>th</sup> March 2012<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">The next day I had been asked to speak at the 3<sup>rd</sup> TESOL conference in Tbilisi and share my experience of “Making Lessons Fun!” The journey to the conference was yet again part of the excitement. Marshutka from Kaspi to Station Square, Tbilisi, where the driver would not accept our pre-paid tickets and we had to give him cash, so we paid twice. Grrrr! and then the plan was taxi to the university. I had fortunately printed a map from google clearly showing the road the University was in both Georgian and English and so it should have been quite straight-forward to jump in the taxi and get to the conference in time for registration and coffee. But no, the driver didn’t know where this road was. School girl error. Note to self – print another map showing said road in situ of many other roads. Breathe sigh of frustration at this point. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">He goes off for a group consultation with the other taxi drivers none of whom can identify where this street is. Tbilisi is the size of Upminster (slight exaggeration) but no-one knows where anywhere is. A girl aged about 16 is dragged into the furore and she says to him and the crowd of helpful taxi drivers “It’s so and so street” reading from the map where the little pink pin is. Wanting to keep face the taxi driver makes a lot of “Oh of course” noises but doesn’t actually have a clue, as we stop in a road after driving for 20 minutes because he is hopelessly lost. I find a Georgian on my phone and hand it to him and with fresh hope in our hearts we zoom off at high speed and are dropped outside a building with a sign that says Ilia State University and crucially, 3. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">It looked surprisingly dead but the address on our program says 3 to 5 and so we get out, pay 7 lari (should have been 5, in fact take that back – free, but we were too stressed to argue) we go into the building, past security, up in the lift to the 5<sup>th</sup> floor and find room 505 only to find that there is a large, padlocked metal gate over the door. We sense we are in the wrong building. Out we come again this time looking for a 5 and a sign of life. Eventually we find it but we had to go through another wrong building, out the back again and into the correct building through the back entrance. For crying out loud!!!! There is no lift and so we run up 5 floors to our destination. We were in time for the first speaker but not for coffee. Sigh! Sigh! Sigh! <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzIugj6l7AWmjH8-a-MapzPQ3LjYYJMDXo81vrJLodRKkLMB61Yl2QX7RehiefaDtwPDOa2roRpUGHZM8Nz090B4Yvyl8qPa1h4pqlIVPsDg9iGDyO6dr4Mctho8Ohmok3HIWfUC90XzsO/s1600/tesol+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzIugj6l7AWmjH8-a-MapzPQ3LjYYJMDXo81vrJLodRKkLMB61Yl2QX7RehiefaDtwPDOa2roRpUGHZM8Nz090B4Yvyl8qPa1h4pqlIVPsDg9iGDyO6dr4Mctho8Ohmok3HIWfUC90XzsO/s320/tesol+10.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teachers looking excited by my presentation</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">As I have already more than hinted at, Georgian lessons could never be described as fun and even with the somewhat cheerful MacMillan books they still only raise a slight grimace. I was told there were going to be between 40 and 70 people at the conference but this was a slight exaggeration or eternal optimism as there were 25 and this included the speakers and organisers! But it did include some classroom teachers as well as those who train teachers so what the hell! I think they were a little overwhelmed by my energy levels which are in complete contrast to a typical Georgian teacher. I threw my alien ball with the flashing light at them, exposed them to plastic apples and aubergines and my home made flashcards of life size fruit, vegetables and 68 essential food items including of course, life-sized coloured laminated photos of marmite, Branston pickle and baked beans. I talked about how I used them in the classroom and then how the students when they become fully engaged in lessons and are interacting with each other tend to be even noisier than Georgian teachers are accustomed to and so they need different behaviour management techniques. I talked about rules and expectations and what the consequences were if they didn’t follow the rules (for the students in class ha ha not the people at the conference!) It went down very well anyway and one of the teachers asked if I would speak at her school to the teachers.<o:p></o:p></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-64323565613280224402012-03-09T22:11:00.000+03:002012-03-09T22:11:47.300+03:00Two Village Orphanages<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Thursday 8<sup>th</sup> March 2012<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37KP89eQQIIrylxg79slawa5n26Z9iCdEZc1ZXLjvcia7tatSVYQLrvugBZXOIpu5WfmXoj4giDirDMndjrU7SC4rv-CBl9v4kzm5X2MiNtGvkfizcZDG8Yyp_RRSauyCGU3-gEp2tRGO/s1600/orph+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37KP89eQQIIrylxg79slawa5n26Z9iCdEZc1ZXLjvcia7tatSVYQLrvugBZXOIpu5WfmXoj4giDirDMndjrU7SC4rv-CBl9v4kzm5X2MiNtGvkfizcZDG8Yyp_RRSauyCGU3-gEp2tRGO/s320/orph+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype
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o:title="orph 1"/> <w:wrap type="square"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->The next day was Saturday and Martin and I plus a friend Danielle went to visit two orphanages in villages just outside Tbilisi with our favourite Nebraskan. Originally in that area, there was a large house with 42 children living there. They didn’t have much to do with the outside world as they went to school there as well. The government now has a policy of integrating children into the local community and moving away from the large institution style houses. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-jE4aWIN8bZkWoguscdzRjVNN-GxPmwpLQBA39uJtPanC7L3eV6hc-BI2QbTBz5pUmZzTB-kS2ND40JRE5NhmnSDoHaistIvNYHUhT_zv-PJrThpBYjtIy5395peAdXG96axsU3CYtlLp/s1600/orph+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-jE4aWIN8bZkWoguscdzRjVNN-GxPmwpLQBA39uJtPanC7L3eV6hc-BI2QbTBz5pUmZzTB-kS2ND40JRE5NhmnSDoHaistIvNYHUhT_zv-PJrThpBYjtIy5395peAdXG96axsU3CYtlLp/s320/orph+4.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape
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o:title="orph 4"/> <w:wrap type="square"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Not all of the children are orphans, sometimes the parents cannot afford to or unable for one reason or another to look after the children. The government put out tenders to run smaller houses and the Divine Child Foundation which is a US charity was successful in bidding for 2 houses. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAz_pxTcmm6YCaBWJvyaoYSeyvoGlQteoihgEgjzlV3uWCsyyurZZicWMa-XAe3Vmi3kX6cd7E0i1xl9tRmJNY3cHetgujEBbjm6BT9p_USSZfJLp6xyhPBRKO2P3NMMty3G7KkrGmtmz/s1600/orph+24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAz_pxTcmm6YCaBWJvyaoYSeyvoGlQteoihgEgjzlV3uWCsyyurZZicWMa-XAe3Vmi3kX6cd7E0i1xl9tRmJNY3cHetgujEBbjm6BT9p_USSZfJLp6xyhPBRKO2P3NMMty3G7KkrGmtmz/s320/orph+24.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
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o:title="orph 9"/> <w:wrap type="square"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->They wanted to take all the children but could only take 20 and their priority when choosing children was to keep siblings together. One boy, now 9, was found in the streets of Tbilisi when he was aged about 3 years old. Naturally he did not have any official documentation and the new orphanage had to fight long and hard to get him placed as red tape being what it is in Georgia, the authorities were reluctant to release him. The homes are beautiful and the standard far exceeds the usual village house. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbxB-sUvHrgs-HuCots5D6jSV9A62MSC7Qjfw4sxrFzcj5PxmVoxjM2J3bQTBxE1zA8VEHqqROEuXuomSKMgmDkkzMO16a71W9sMpXDb-Vb_Y0erQFDu7sQAZ1I5uuyMp9dQz4t_UyAim/s1600/orph+14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbxB-sUvHrgs-HuCots5D6jSV9A62MSC7Qjfw4sxrFzcj5PxmVoxjM2J3bQTBxE1zA8VEHqqROEuXuomSKMgmDkkzMO16a71W9sMpXDb-Vb_Y0erQFDu7sQAZ1I5uuyMp9dQz4t_UyAim/s320/orph+14.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Gz836lRBt2JH9GKBAhPiqPNYigl0EGGL6cBrXbQqvu1UDJ0TKPVuymCBBfwNDV61zkj3TYcs9HFnE1tjZP2hWPH2Pwa9qpGBV4WJjjKNplL6fecBdw5suCLFN_1W3gc8KedfVgXw4dOY/s1600/orph+12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Gz836lRBt2JH9GKBAhPiqPNYigl0EGGL6cBrXbQqvu1UDJ0TKPVuymCBBfwNDV61zkj3TYcs9HFnE1tjZP2hWPH2Pwa9qpGBV4WJjjKNplL6fecBdw5suCLFN_1W3gc8KedfVgXw4dOY/s320/orph+12.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><o:p><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtSffPRiekwXz-If-nSYmCN6CuxcY1QT6oO9attf1CpxkPV_az0HclOaBsOa6795qBEfpurlVexNPloFD4UNefRBcGgA_i0ajrYhGsa-U4ckuUZNGtHAaTsoYblkACMRaavXtTibZt-sn7/s1600/orph+29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtSffPRiekwXz-If-nSYmCN6CuxcY1QT6oO9attf1CpxkPV_az0HclOaBsOa6795qBEfpurlVexNPloFD4UNefRBcGgA_i0ajrYhGsa-U4ckuUZNGtHAaTsoYblkACMRaavXtTibZt-sn7/s320/orph+29.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">The houses are run on a Polish model where there are 5 house mothers who work in shifts and each house mother has responsibility for 2 children in particular, making sure they are working at school and kept clean and tidy. We didn’t know what to expect and took sweets and some nail varnishes for the girls. We did feel a bit awkward, like watching monkeys at the zoo and as we couldn’t really speak very much (we tried and someone translated for us) we felt a bit redundant. It would be a good idea if there were some games we could have played that didn’t require speaking like Jenga or 4 in a row but there wasn’t. Something to think about for next time.<o:p></o:p></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-28476222882079282882012-03-09T22:03:00.000+03:002012-03-09T22:03:23.374+03:00Back to the Family<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Thursday 8<sup>th</sup> March 2012<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Friday night we went to see the family back in the village and stayed over. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_oKKhEncAiZHbIT9XewCB3B9RiUO_52tYY245ZeXKYI-fiiya5HIFiOC1b6Wsn5zY3G3I7wBM4KFxm8FlvSKhwFeflM-l31LuMvyANtEbLSEfwm1QFNgfCg2a0mi-1ySVm0q3dfHvcL0C/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_oKKhEncAiZHbIT9XewCB3B9RiUO_52tYY245ZeXKYI-fiiya5HIFiOC1b6Wsn5zY3G3I7wBM4KFxm8FlvSKhwFeflM-l31LuMvyANtEbLSEfwm1QFNgfCg2a0mi-1ySVm0q3dfHvcL0C/s400/003.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype
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o:title="003"/> <w:wrap type="square"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->The journey, as always in Georgia, is an event in itself. We let the train take the strain (Who can remember that 1970’s advert?!) The station at Kaspi is interesting – no activity in that you never really see people just lines and lines of rolling stock. There are very few trains that stop at Kaspi and there is one at about 5.30 at night. I have no idea of where it goes or where it stops. It doesn’t appear to be part of the timetable that can be found on the internet (only those with doors you open yourself can be found there) and there are no station maps or signs at the actual stations. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">These trains have automatic doors and like all trains very Soviet style – lots of metal and no attempt at comfort or aesthetics. We asked in our best Georgian “Where is this?” but were only met with I-don’t-know shrugs. Well there are no signs after all. There is no smoking in the carriages so the smokers stand in the spaces at the end of the carriage where both the connecting carriage doors and the doors to the outside world meet. A string of vendors walk up and down the carriages continually, selling a variety of goods calling out along the way “Buka buja, khachapuri, chocco-lat-eee, cooking oil, buka buja”. Buka Buja is what unknown words in Georgian sound like. They sell drinks, sweets, knicker elastic, metal objects of unknown use, crisps and those things like cheesy wotsits that are 3 times the size and REALLY have no flavour and REALLY taste just like polystyrene. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Unperturbed by the packed train, they march through every carriage and back again the whole time, dragging chequered bags and very large buckets used for paint behind them. We were unfortunately standing in front of the connecting doors and so had to move every 6 minutes to allow vendor plus bags to sell their wares, as well as those handing out religious cards with a written message asking for a donation for their well-being and not forgetting those strange beasts “Carriage Roamers” who, just for the hell of it walk through the train. This was not easy as Martin was also sporting a rucksack and there were about 10 of us in a space 3 foot by 10 foot. We plan to be cartographers for the day where we ride up and down on the train to see where it goes and at what time. Kind of like following in Shackleton’s footsteps but with no shortage of food and no fears regarding the consequences of underwear failure.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Snow fell yet again as we arrived in the village; (Oh how we missed that!) and we couldn’t help but notice that the family had had installed an interesting little gas fire to top up heat given by the little wood stove. The gas was pumped through a hose that snaked around the room as the fire was moved to warm whoever claimed it first. It was a bloody dangerous beast! It was really nice to see them all and we had a simple family meal of chicken and tomato casserole, hard boiled eggs, fried liver and onions (but not as we know it), khachapuri, cheese and bread. I showed off as to how well I <!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="_x0000_s1027"
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o:title="020"/> <w:wrap type="square"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->can drink cha-cha and downed 3 without flinching plus 2 glasses of wine. You know the saying “pride before a fall” well for me it was “vomit before you fall” This of course was no mean feat to execute when the outside squat toilet is a 20 minute walk from the bedroom and it’s snowing. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJAjBEOpoiqwVbC_mzkPSj1gk-vTTbht9N67tBtmx1lf5aqUZod_qIeq0vh6aBE0WWu1rrm6gncXUIcpWyzMCriLIGnAbstIhvcioTLAzm_L2isSPcKbvYppcbSDav1MK0tzNbg2pjdr3/s1600/020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJAjBEOpoiqwVbC_mzkPSj1gk-vTTbht9N67tBtmx1lf5aqUZod_qIeq0vh6aBE0WWu1rrm6gncXUIcpWyzMCriLIGnAbstIhvcioTLAzm_L2isSPcKbvYppcbSDav1MK0tzNbg2pjdr3/s400/020.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">The funny story of the night was when we told them that there was a woman in Kaspi who walked up and down the streets calling out “Martin-eee” and we wanted to know what she was selling. I said I had seen her on my way to school and she carried a chequered bag inside which was a cardboard box. “What was she doing?” I asked. They had a think and then burst out laughing and said she was calling out “Matson-eee” which is like greek yoghurt! This was the joke of the evening – they thought it was hilarious and so did we at the time – their laughter was infectious.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">I can’t explain why it is but Kvemo Khvedureti feels like our Georgian childhood home while Kaspi feels like our leaving-home-as-young-adults kind of grown-up home. We do fun things in Kaspi, go to work and look after ourselves and lead our own lives living like adults but when we go back to the village we regress back to being children again, feeling at home and doing things that we used to when we were first introduced to Georgian society. It’s like the ‘good old days’ where we appreciate and warmly remember times past but would not want to exchange it for the times present!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">We have invited them to dinner at ours in 2 weeks time and we have promised them a roast dinner. The things we say when we are drunk. I don’t know how many or which people are coming and all I remember saying is that anyone who wants to come can as we have many chairs and many forks.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
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</div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-46311689678245756892012-03-09T21:59:00.000+03:002012-03-09T21:59:23.394+03:00Scouting for Georgians<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Wednesday 7<sup>th</sup> March 2012<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">The first time we went back to mass this year there was a new guy with a lovely tenor voice singing in the choir. Del, from Nebraska, USA, was really friendly and was going to be here until June working with the Universities on behalf of the Georgian Government. I felt a bit sorry for him and assumed he was probably a bit lonely and didn’t know very many people, invited him for dinner at our place and very nearly invited him to a pancake / cookie bake out that was occurring in ‘Friends Hostel’ the following week to celebrate pancake day (albeit a little late!). <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">However it turned out that I was completely wrong and that he has a very busy schedule and in fact was introducing Martin and I into his community of friends and acquaintances. We were invited to three events in the same week. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">On the Saturday after the pancake do (it would have not been the place to invite him lol) we went to his place and he had cooked a range of delicious curry dishes for some Georgian friends and another visiting American working with the Government to implement health policies regarding non-communicable diseases, particularly cancer. In Georgia, while the rate of cancer is not higher than other countries, the mortality rate is extremely high. This is because detection is too late for treatment. For men, lung cancer is the killer – due to heavy smoking and industrial pollution and for women it is breast cancer. There is little in the way of health education here or prevention here and no after-care. Women are not educated about examining their breasts and if they do find a lump, they don’t come forward because of cost and also are afraid that if they lose a breast their husbands will leave them for another woman. There is no reconstruction surgery either and little in the way of prosthesis so that women can have a normal shape when wearing clothes. Women tend to stay at home and not socialise because of this and the sense of shame they feel about their situation. There is of course no money to be made in health prevention and the health service here is not government funded. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5jQ127V3rJvgGpA-34VVAUzDffriHsOf4_pQdxIBlEQe3PMPcVnA5IQH3mei3_c8l-3_ZZ2BAywZqXJ3rr-f6fapXZHY9mbbaZcP3DwMwbLn4yXdiuQOtejwB5qZn3BI5AzbnXL12JrU/s1600/scout+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5jQ127V3rJvgGpA-34VVAUzDffriHsOf4_pQdxIBlEQe3PMPcVnA5IQH3mei3_c8l-3_ZZ2BAywZqXJ3rr-f6fapXZHY9mbbaZcP3DwMwbLn4yXdiuQOtejwB5qZn3BI5AzbnXL12JrU/s320/scout+11.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">After this we went to a Scout meeting. Del is a link up kind of guy and has a big interest in the youth of the country and so at 10 o’clock that night the scouts of the Tbilisi Pack were linked up with the Scouts in Lincoln University Nebraska for a mutual sharing of information. “What do you like to do?” “What do you want to do when you leave school?” “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” It is worth mentioning again about the Soviet mind-set which doesn’t question or use initiative. In truth, maybe it is too late to change the way many of the adults think in Georgia but by teaching children leadership skills and giving them the opportunity to see that other parts of the world really do exist with real people not just something that is seen in movies this will help them to expand their horizons. The Scouting movement (boys and girls) is one small part of this process.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSzdSsHgDInqU7EOskENnS0qTx4-Ws5-b-nbzkF7YxvXNmW19q1U9q3GZX84wWYrfcZ-bVINiOBAjnlyjP6ZMZjkH6kkiviURcKFSssA_emQPvjA9zFrQCHLw6YTMeSvkrJSb4n9sjciLp/s1600/civic+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSzdSsHgDInqU7EOskENnS0qTx4-Ws5-b-nbzkF7YxvXNmW19q1U9q3GZX84wWYrfcZ-bVINiOBAjnlyjP6ZMZjkH6kkiviURcKFSssA_emQPvjA9zFrQCHLw6YTMeSvkrJSb4n9sjciLp/s320/civic+10.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">In the same vein I attended another event last week which was celebrating civic activities with students in Tbilisi schools. This is another program which encourages students to think about the needs of the community, to plan a course of action and to carry it out. There is no culture of volunteering in Georgia and the people have been trained to be passive and to follow instructions and not think so again this is an important part of training young people to actually start thinking and questioning for themselves. Students had set up displays of the activities they were involved in which included helping at an orphanage and also an investigation into the problems that wheelchair users face in trying to get around in Tbilisi. While they may not solve the problem the fact that they are even thinking is a huge step forward. The highlight of the event was as a finale, a young girl sang “I care” by Beyonce. It brought several tears to my eye.<o:p></o:p></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5803364319364356268.post-17273333363293613322012-03-08T08:14:00.001+03:002012-03-08T08:15:52.918+03:00French Toast, Hawkeye Pierce and the Georgian Education System<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Thursday 23<sup>rd</sup> February 2012<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMRT2fizIXU-BXvspAYhY19ACA2SdRSQwtlgHYQKquEqskzlWWc0muwz73J3eAnbrNFnS95c-dVsUFHGxHubal4jUzaT3L_fDtUMY80_7LnsLdqFGGZnurlYR-fVNYiCX2Nj16qh8SrTAb/s1600/hawkeye+pierce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMRT2fizIXU-BXvspAYhY19ACA2SdRSQwtlgHYQKquEqskzlWWc0muwz73J3eAnbrNFnS95c-dVsUFHGxHubal4jUzaT3L_fDtUMY80_7LnsLdqFGGZnurlYR-fVNYiCX2Nj16qh8SrTAb/s1600/hawkeye+pierce.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">So I was sitting on the marshutka on my way to Tblisi admiring the beauty of the landscape and letting thoughts drift in and out of my head when a very old episode of MASH came to mind. It must be about 20 years ago that I saw this but I remembered an episode where Hawkeye Pierce (Alan Alda) was discussing the merits of the breakfast that was offered with his fellow doctors and getting quite heated about it and finally decided to speak to the chef to discuss how he could improve the quality of the French Toast they were producing. “You see you have to put this ingredient in and just a little bit of this – not too much and of course you just do this” He was giving instructions to the stressed out chef. “Well you come and supervise breakfast then!” says the chef. Hawkeye Pierce takes up the challenge and starts off well but only to find that the demands of the hoard who want breakfast and want it now means that speed is the issue and even though he knows how to make the perfect French toast, breakfast in the army hospital in a war zone was not the place to demonstrate his art. How clever the brain it! I thought it kind of summed up my experience of the education system in Georgia nicely.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">As a volunteer teacher in Georgia it takes a little while to get an understanding of the Georgian education system. The inherent problems are mentioned briefly in orientation but are discussed in an historical context recognising that it is flawed and outdated but that it is moving on and changing at all levels; a process that we are part of. However I did not really grasp the enormous, fundamental differences between the systems. I believed that education is education is education all over the world and the difference were more a matter of quality and depth than the principle itself. It is this failure of comprehension that causes confusion and distress among volunteers regardless of their level of teaching experience in their home country. Maybe for EFL teachers who have taught around the world this is not such a problem but I can only speak from personal observation.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Initially, the differences in the classroom experience in Georgia and home are amusing, for example the constant calling out “Mas, Mas” (Teacher, teacher) from students of all ages to indicate that they know the answers. The lack of resources and poor conditions the students work under may elicit compassion and the desire to improve the look of the classroom to make it more cheerful. There is frustration when for example the students all cheat and copy each other’s answers without even trying to work it out for themselves and you make a mental note to do something about that in the future. Many of the children do not have the pupil’s book and workbook to work in and it is confusing when the teacher doesn’t even think it’s an issue and so you go round the class making sure that students without a book are sitting next to someone who does have a book so they can at least follow what’s happening. The absence of electricity in the classroom, the bits of wooden flooring that jump up at you with the wrong turn of a foot, the peeling paint and missing plaster and the wooden stove burners with the ill-fitting chimneys that send forth a smoky haze into the atmosphere command a kind of respect towards them for endurance. To sit there with their hats and coats on all day and to still be cold is a lot to ask I reasoned.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Many TLGers I knew began to express their concerns about their role and that their expertise was not being taken advantage of. Experienced teachers were not being listened to and inexperienced teachers were not being encouraged to take part in the lesson. Many TLGers found that they were not being particularly active in the classroom. The local English teacher did not involve them automatically or give enthusiastic encouragement when they did attempt to do something such as sing a song or play a game tending to see this as an interruption to the real business of the lesson. My view was that perhaps those with little experience other than their own recent education to draw upon did not have the confidence or expertise to suggest ideas and put themselves forward. It seemed to me at the time that maybe those with experience in the classroom were perhaps not being sympathetic to the environment they were in and were possibly being too pushy with their ideas and it was their unrealistic expectations of what they could achieve that was making them miserable. Maybe their own desire to make an impact in a short time was actually impeding their progress?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">The problems in the classroom became evident. Maybe the problem did not lie with the attitude or limitations of the volunteer but with the English teachers themselves? Despite the new text books for the younger students the mind-set of the teachers has not changed and they do not adhere to the lesson plans as set out in the teacher’s book but instead continue to work systematically through the text book, exercise by exercise, regardless of whether the students have understood the work or not. Exercises are set as homework before the topic has been properly covered in the lesson thus missing the whole point of the homework as reinforcement. The lesson focusses on the 4 or 5 of the students who can keep up with the pace of the teaching (who decided on what the pace should be? No-one knows) and left the remaining 20 students to continue to fall behind. Tests and homework are frequent but do not test ability or understanding as the teacher helps the students and allows them to copy from each other. What is actually important is that students pass the exam not that they have learnt anything. Teachers’ and their director’s jobs depend on this. How can we volunteers compete with this deeply entrenched system? What is the point of us being here if we cannot penetrate this way of thinking? It is simply not enough to sing songs, draw pictures, make jokes, encourage all students to take part in the lesson, look after the ones who do not even know the alphabet but are expected to stand up and be humiliated when they try to read. It is too much to fight against.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">However, moving into my second semester in Georgia and with both Martin and I at new schools, I now see things a little differently as I have gained a deeper appreciation of the education system. If there is any questioning of the situation, for example “Why are we teaching year 6 from the Green Book (book 4) when their level of English is more at the level of the Blue Book (book 2) the answer is along the lines of “The Ministry of Education has forbidden it.” I say “Well I was at the TLG meeting with the Minister of Education and he said that students should work according to their level and not the number of years they have been studying English.” “Oh OK” In fact, it is more the issue that parents have already purchased a green book for their children and cannot be asked to now buy another one. Any attempts to deviate from what are the perceived rules are met with this response. At this same Ministerial meeting the question was asked: “Why are we waiting until 15<sup>th</sup> November before heating is turned on in the schools when this is the coldest winter for 40 years in Georgia and has been minus and counting for the last month?” Because, sometime, somewhere by someone unknown, an announcement was made to this effect. Despite the Ministry telling schools to turn their heating on, school directors continued to wait until November 15<sup>th</sup>. A rule is a rule is a rule. It is the Soviet mind-set. This is really hard to stomach coming from a society where the question “Why?” is allowed to be asked and is even something to be encouraged on occasion.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">How clever the brain is when we allow it to work things out! While maybe not the perfect analogy, Hawkeye Pierce and his vision of French Toast does kind of work. Like Hawkeye Pierce, TLGers have a vision of what the classroom should be like and like Hawkeye Pierce we discuss in detail this vision with our colleagues and maybe have unspoken misgivings about their opinions. Like him we become full of purpose and take on the challenge with a gung-ho attitude. But then suddenly the full implications of the situation hit us and it is then that we have to carefully rethink our position. As I recall, Hawkeye Pierce threw down his ladle in defeat or maybe realisation of the absurdity of obsessing about a French toast recipe in the middle of a war zone in Korea. But what is my stance to be? There is a big part of me that wants to stand there with my ladle until the chef calls for end of service but know that I simply don’t have the energy levels. While not exactly a war zone, none-the-less the system is chaotic and disordered even among the “Rules” which no longer, if they ever did, make sense. I can only do what I can do and I can only bring what I can bring and if in any way I make a difference to a teacher or a child then that has to be enough. There is a beautiful quote that I have stolen from somewhere but is perfect for this time. “We plant trees that we will never sit under.” I think that says it all. <o:p></o:p></div>Jen2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/16584392452159974169noreply@blogger.com0