Home

Well, here I am. For the first time in 2 years I am sitting in my family room in Plainsboro, New Jersey. It’s a weird experience, and sometimes I completely forget that I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer and everything I see and feel is just a mirage; an illusion meant to hold me over until I’m actually done. Right now the only thing that holds me on to the reality of my circumstance is the homemade Georgian wine (that he has described as “okay”) I’ve been sharing with my father. I guess it’s hard to explain, and maybe it’s just because I’m home for a little while, or maybe because it the holiday season, but being in America just feels so easy and right.

I’m not trying to say that America is #1 overall, but for me it is #1. Georgians ask a series of questions when the first meet a foreigner, and these are my typical responses:

Q: What’s your name?

A: Tom.

Q: How old are you?

A: 25.

Q: Are you married/have kids?

A: No.

Q: Why not?

A: [Random answer, and usually depends on if I want to joke around or act annoyed]

Q: Do you like Georgia/Keda?

A: Yes, I like Georgia/Keda very much, it has beautiful nature, and the air is so great.

Q: Do you like Georgians

A: Yes, they are very generous and hospitable people.

Q: Which is better America or Georgia?

A: Both are great.

There are a bunch of other questions that come before and after, but undoubtedly a foreigner will be asked which is better America or Georgia. I’ve always said both are good, and I probably always will, but to be America is my home and to me it is #1. I’ve tried to say “Hey, America is my HOME. Everything I love and care about is there.” Most people nod their head acknowledging that no matter how great a place is, home is home, and it will always be #1.

I guess all I really mean is:

IT’S GREAT TO BE HOME!

Going Home

Tomorrow is the day. Tomorrow morning I board a plane in Tbilisi at 0815. I land in Kiev at 0850 (yes, the plane is THAT FAST). I wait around the airport for about four hours, and then board a plane (with an unoccupied space next to me because the US Consular Office in Kiev is a horrible place) at 1255 that lands in NYC at 1635. Pretty much this means that within 36 hours I will be eating Taco Bell and driving down the New Jersey Turnpike on my way back to my house in Plainsboro, New Jersey.

There are lots of things to do, to see, to eat, and people to hang out with. I don’t have a specific list or schedule of my days, and I no longer have a current driver’s license, so most like if you want to see me you will have to pick me up. Unfortunately, as I said above, I will be traveling one person short. I never thought that visas could be such a huge problem, and it sucks because all these rules are in place now because people in the past took advantage of the lax rules. Anyway, that’s another story.

I need Taco Bell. That’s probably one of the first things I will do after I land. After Taco Bell I probably just want to go home and hang out with my cat, Archimedes, for a while and talk with my family about all the fun and exciting things I’ve been doing. My goal is to basically gain 10 pounds in this single visit home. There are so many places I have to go, and so much food (HOAGIE HAVEN) that I have to eat that I’ll be pretty busy. I would still like for my friends to come see me and let me know when they’re free for drinks or FOOD and write me on Facebook.

I may or may not be returning to Georgia on the 5^th. There are a lot of factors at play, and a lot of things I have to consider. I would like to go to Ukraine right after, but I’m quickly running out of vacation days from Peace Corps. The airline is also being a huge pain by not letting me change my flight without paying a large amount of money. If I stop in Ukraine it could only be for three days, but something is telling me I will really need those three days. Long-distance relationships are NOT easy. I haven’t seen Ana in almost two-months, and we were really counting on this trip home, but now it may look like we won’t see each other until summer. Which… well… sucks…

Teaching Woes

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the reasons I went into teaching. I remember reading essays and studying over books in graduate school that went over many of the problems students face in school. Then I remember when Governor Chris Christie came and started tearing away at teachers to destroy the fabric of the teacher’s union. I remember telling myself, “I won’t be those teachers that get disheartened and stop trying”. Unfortunately, looking at some of my situation here in Peace Corps I have found myself in that exact situation. I am looking at some of the things I’ve done IN THE CLASSROOM, and compared it to what I wished I could do as a teacher, and let’s just say I’m far from impressed.

Peace Corps Staff as admittedly told me that they believed I had certain special abilities and skills, which is why I got this particular site. I won’t go into details, but I was excited to really get into teaching and doing everything I could for my students. I was really into it the first semester, and I tried all these new and different strategies (most of which got me strange stares from students and teachers alike), and overall I didn’t feel any change, and I was more frustrated with students who disrespected me in class than educating. Plus, I was always fighting a language barrier and butting up against the status quo. Instead of fighting against what I knew was wrong I got sucked into it myself. Now I’m stuck wondering if I’m really cut out for this whole teaching thing. Is my fancy Masters of Arts in Teaching and teaching certificate just a piece of paper?

A lot of the issues I know are language and culturally based. Some of it is the size of my classrooms. Mainly, it’s me. I haven’t put nearly enough time into lesson planning or brainstorming new ideas. Instead of focusing on teaching, which didn’t provide me with that Peace Corps “Wow” experience I turned to other things. I decided to focus my attention on the university, the fitness center, getting dictionaries, getting chalkboards. All of these things are great, but they aren’t what I originally set out to do. Not to mention that now that I spend so little time at school because I’m so busy with other things I feel like a giant failure. I’ve let myself and my students down. Then I saw a few PCVs posting this article. It’s true, I have faced a lot of failure in my time here. I have failed in studying and becoming an advanced and fluent speaker of Georgian. I’ve failed at motivating people around me to really care and work hard in school. So, instead of thinking of new approaches to my style I basically gave up and went on to something new (university and fitness club).

This has all thrown me for a bit of a loop. Should I even be a teacher? If I do become a teacher, will I end up being one of the poor teachers represented on the “Waiting for Superman” documentary? The more I learn about education back home the more I worry I could be part of the problem. If I go into teaching I feel like I’ll have a lot to learn.  I know that going forward I WILL try harder in the classroom. I will make the most of this experience and give my students something they truly deserve: a competent teacher that cares about their education.

Here’s me refusing to let me be a failure!

Nakhvamdis! (Goodbye)

Marshutka Monday Part Deuce

This is part of an e-mail my good friend, Carsten Brown, posted in an e-mail home about travelling in a marshutka. This is a really fun read and I'm sure you'll get a good laugh--especially because he's a talented and funny writer. Enjoy.

"Marshutka Pre-Flight Announcement

When traveling in Georgia, one is usually limited to three modes of transportation: taxi, train or passenger van. The passenger van tends to be the most economical form of transit, both in terms of time and cost. These trips often last hours (some as long at 8 hours) and this gives one much time to read, reflect or day-dream. I usually choose the latter-most. I have decided that if a van such as these were to become really official and take a cue from airlines, the conversation in the front seat would probably resemble this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hzqdDoe8FoM&feature=related

And it's highly likely that every Georgian driver would have one of these.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pl4plPGRG8o

And should the driver ever decide to include a pre-flight introduction or speech, it would closely resemble the following:

“Good morning ladies and Gentlemen. My name is Giorgi and I will be your Marshutka (passenger van) driver today. We'll be cruising at approximately 120 kph through narrow mountain passes, skirting the edges of sheer cliff faces and performing the bovine slalom with cows strategically placed in the middle of the road.

If you are feeling queasy from the overwhelming aroma of haven't-showered-in-three-weeks BO, combined with vodka-on-the-breath-of-the-gentleman-sitting-next-to-you AND the maniacal maneuvering of our driver, just scream “GAACHERET” (STOP!) and we'll pull over to the side of the cliff and let you toss your cookies.

Today's is a non-smoking flight, as indicated by the “No Smoking” sign hanging from the rear-view mirror, but this rule will be flagrantly flouted by the driver, who will smoke like a chimney for the next six hours.

If this is a summer trip, and you are feeling a little warm, opening a window for ventilation will be futile, as the other passengers will angrily close it, for fear of catching a cold...in August.

On this trip there will be no complimentary drinks, snacks or pillows. You are traveling like chattel. Adjust your expectations accordingly.

Today's in-flight meal will consist of day-old khatchapuri shoved on you, against your will, by the bebia (grandmother) sitting next to you.

If you'll kindly direct your attention to your left and right shoulders, you'll notice that the seat belt has been conveniently cut out to ease a speedy departure from the vehicle, through the windshield, in the event of a sudden stop or a cataclysmic auto-donkey pile-up.

For the Georgians aboard, please feel free to religiously cross yourselves at random and inexplicable intervals, so as to alarm the foreigners on board as much as possible.

As always, our “Clown Car” policy dictates that we'll be taking twice as many passengers as we can safely accommodate, so keep your laps (i.e. extra seats) free! Have a hazardous trip! :-)”

No Joke."

The Challenge of Age

It’s something many of us have to deal with here in Georgia. One thing I am constantly trying to fight back against is the perception that I am too young or I am not able to do anything. Many of the younger volunteers feel the same way. I was talking to my host mother today and she was telling me that I had to eat and then go to bed because I didn’t sleep until 5am last night. All I could do was laugh, because nobody has told me to “Go to bed” in ten years. She asked why I was laughing and I told her because I’m not a ten-year old and nobody has told me to go to bed. She said that here the older people can tell children when to go to bed. At this point I was a little offended and told her I wasn’t a child. So, she pulled out the age thing. But, I told her, “I’m not a child”.

So, we had a discussion about when a person goes from “boy” to “man”. Basically a man has to have a wife and child. I told her that in my opinion someone should be a man BEFORE getting married and having kids. That was the end of the conversation—it wasn’t the end of my thoughts about it. I have so many problems getting people to listen to me or take me seriously and it’s ALL because of my age. A TLG volunteer in a village near to me told me that when people in his village talk about me they always mention how young I am. Worse than being 25 is that I look like I’m 20 (if that). It’s not my education, my experiences, or what I’ve already accomplished that defines who I am; it’s my age.

When I came to Keda I was told that I would be allowed to do teacher trainings. I started working at the school and tried introducing new methodologies to my counterparts and students. I won’t go into details into this aspect, but basically I never felt like I had the respect of teachers or students. I’ve always felt like I was a good teacher, but I’ve been having problems getting people to respect me and know that I can get things done. Nobody will make a move to get teacher trainings going. I think I know why. People don’t trust the ideas of a “boy”, no matter how much education or knowledge he has. 

Nobody said Peace Corps was easy.

Marshutka Mondays

I’ve been trying every week to do this new thing on my blog. I would like to introduce you all to Marshutka Mondays. I have talked to my parents and a few friends about marshutkas, but most people don’t know what they are or what our lives or like on these machines. So, every Monday I will talk a little bit about marshutkas and some of the fun stories I have riding on them. So, here we go…

 

Marshutkas are typically Ford Transit vans with a bunch of seats, packed with people. They are used like buses and transport people from city to city (or even within a city). Above it a picture of a normal marshutka in Georgia. I have to point out that most of my picture are poorly taken because I felt uncomfortable taking out my camera and snapping photos with so many people around. Especially since a lot of my photos have people in them. 

Here's the front of a Ford Transit marshutka that goes from The sign on the front ბათუმი which means "Batumi" (the nearest large city). 

Some of the marshutkas, especially the ones that go across the country are Mercedes Benz Sprinters and are usually considerably larger and more comfortable than the Ford Transits. They aren't as common, though. 

                                      

Look above and you'll see some German. I haven't figured out why most of the marshutkas are secondhand from Germany, but German is written all over most of the marshutkas. I also just thought a yellow marshutka was funny. 

Here's the inside of a marshutka when it's crowded. 

The way back of the marshutka next to an old woman who kept smelling me...

 And another marshutka picture.

And the last one....

So there's Marshutka Mondays.

My Brother

In keeping with tradition I will write about another important person in my life. At this point I have covered my sisters, Mary and Catherine, my Mom, and my Dad. There is one person missing from this equation and that is my older brother, Dean. Dean is about seven-years older than I am, but as a young boy Dean would still be just like any other older brother.

I have many stories about Dean as an older brother that I love to tell people. Whether it was the day he tied me to a chair and put me outside, or when I tried to play with him and his friends with water guns (they all ganged up and got me soaked), or when I’d sit in the backseat with him and I’d randomly get one of his “leg-squishes”, or finally when we were backpacking he pushed me upside down and called me “Beetle Boy” as I tried to get up. These are all great stories that make people laugh and giggle and go “Oh… older brothers…” Then of course there are all the nicknames (Boy, Beetle Boy… most revolved around calling me “boy”). Despite many of these great stories, there was always more to our relationship than just that. He may not try to admit it, and he’ll probably cringe at the thought of it, but he was actually a pretty cool older brother.

We would gather around the computer for hours and watch Dean play “Ultima Underworld”. Oh, we spent soooo much time just watching him play and do stuff. In fact, there were times—since I wasn’t allowed to play the computer then—that I’d ask Dean if he wanted to play the computer; just so I could watch. Eventually I was allowed to play and now I routinely whoop his butt—no really, it’s not even fun for me and I have to LET him beat me a few times so he won’t stop playing. Ironically, I believe his kids are getting really good and will probably kick me butt when I return home.

I am also a bit too young to totally remember, but Dean used to take my sister and I around our house and play “Wilderness”. It was a time where we’d pretend to be some group of people who had to survive outside on our own. He’d teach us all these interesting wilderness survival stuff, too. Eventually Dean got too old to play with us and Mary and I tried—but failed—in playing alone. Actually, in our efforts she and I found a dead bird and buried a mouse. Dean went from playing “wilderness” with me to actually going INTO the wilderness.

My father, Dean, and I backpacked the entire John Muir Trail (221 miles) in 1999. Dean was always a good sport about everything—even though I’m pretty sure he would have preferred I stayed behind. Also, I was kicked out of the tent once for smelling too much like fish. Nonetheless, the pictures of the three of us on the top of Mt. Whitney are still some of my favorite pictures I have of my brother and me.

Despite Dean’s seemingly indifference he was always my favorite and my childhood hero (something he probably got sick of). He was a Boy Scout and an Eagle Scout. Therefore I went to become a Boy Scout and eventually an Eagle Scout. Dean is in the Army. I wanted to be in the Army and joined ROTC my freshman year, but was medically disqualified. A big part of the reason I’m in Peace Corps is to serve my country like Dean does. Dean wrestled, so I wrestled, too. I was never as broad as Dean (though I am 2 inches taller), and he was always MUCH stronger than I was, but I was always a slightly better technical wrestler. Didn’t matter, because he’d still beat me up or say, “Boy, I’m trained to kill people with my hands, not pin them to the ground for a second or two.” Much of who I am and grew up to be is essentially an imitation of my older brother. Sure, as I grew up more I diverged significantly, but he always provided a good example to follow. In my extended family Dean is like the most amazing person in the world. I’ve never seen grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins light up so much as when Dean enters the room.

Dean also has done some pretty cool things for me in the past. In my senior year of high school I had a big party at my house and got caught. I was grounded for 6-months, but the day before my parents got home my brother took me to the movies. Sort of an “I know you’re about to die, so let’s watch ‘The Last Samurai’”.

One of the most recent experiences I’ve had with Dean was when I went to his Ranger School Graduation (yeah, he’s an Army Ranger). Well, his wife asked me to drive with him from Columbus, Georgia to their home in Colorado Springs. I went to his graduation and then we spent two days hanging out in Fort Benning while he got signed out there. We had a lot of fun at night. We saw Zombieland, a movie he was laughing pretty hard throughout. We had a good time, and when we started driving I could see how intent he was on getting home. He missed his family. When I got tired a little outside of St. Louis he wanted to keep going. When we got snowed in (yes, it was middle of October) in the middle of Kansas (I HATE KANSAS) I’ve never seen him so upset. He wanted to just keep going, but we got blocked right on the border with Colorado.

Dean cares about his family. His wife and four (almost five) kids mean everything to him. Dean works long hours, and has been deployed for almost half of his daughter’s life. He still spends whatever time he can taking care of and providing for his family. I have always loved going to his house in Colorado for vacation, but I also look forward to the inevitability of getting sick with some kind of stomach bug when I’m there.

As Dean turns old he will always be Deano-Beano to me. He will also be Captain Dean Lyon. He’s my big brother and don’t mess with him or he’ll beat you up (but not in front of his kids). So Happy Birthday, Dean. I hope you have a great birthday and a fun year. Maybe I’ll even see you next year for your birthday.

Bittersweet

As the title suggests, today was a good day and a bad day all rolled into one large package of emotional extremes. I was running around making phone calls all day trying to get my problem worked out. I really shouldn’t go into too much detail about it, because it involves some sensitive information that I don’t really want to post on my blog. With that said, my trip back to the USA from the 22^nd of December to the 5^th of January has just had a giant wrench thrown in it. I’m a little annoyed, because there are a variety of reasons why things like this happen.

First, I blame terrorists. I mean—when in doubt—blame terrorists. They abused the system we had in place prior to 9/11 and used it to attack our country. This brought a large amount of fear to our country and we collectively decided to shut our borders a lot more. Then I blame people in the United States who have become to xenophobic that they demand the government to take action against regular people trying to visit the USA. I mean, is it right to assume that every single personal applying for a visa wants to live in the USA permanently? Sure, some do—some don’t, too. If you make it look like you’re keeping people out on purpose you’ll end up with a lot of people hating you—just a thought. When did people get so scared of foreign or different? When did people begin not trusting other human beings?

That’s all the information I’ll give at this time. I just think some of the collective decisions we make as a country actually work against us. I mean, are we working under the assumption that everyone wants to come and live permanently in the USA? I can tell you, living in a developing nation, that not everyone thinks we are good and awesome. It could be because our economy is in shambles. Or maybe the fact or politicians don’t really care too much about fixing the country. No, they listen to lobbyists who care more about themselves than the country. Some lobbyists do good things—for a while. Then eventually they earn enough sway to try and do WHATEVER they f’in want. I’m not talking Democrat or Republican. I’m talking leaders who lead to benefit only themselves and their own lives. George Washington didn’t WANT to be President. Abraham Lincoln fought a Civil War. We can’t even agree whether or not to raise taxes or cut unneeded programs. At the same time we’ve got people like Rick Perry coming in and saying our foreign aid should start at $0. What an idiot. If it started at $0 I wouldn’t have the opportunity to do my projects, which use USAID money.

That gets into my second (and more joyous) news. Get ready. Are you ready? I don’t think you’re ready. You’re really ready? Okay, fine…

I got

My

GRANT!!!!!!!!!!!

Yep!!! Once again, I won’t tell you how much money it is, but it’s more than enough to get me my fitness club! I was given a few suggestions, one of which I think will be great. One was about making ‘women only’ workout times. And another was charging a little money to make it more sustainable. The first part is a definite YES! I thought I wrote that in there, but I don’t think I emphasized it enough. As long as I get enough interests from women it will definitely go in there. The second suggestion is not going to work, though. The sports school is a part of the local municipality and are not allowed to take money for memberships fees. They said it may be changed in the future, but for now the municipality of Keda will take monetary responsibility in the future.

It should take a few weeks to get the money, but in the meantime I’ll be making phone calls and trying to figure everything out and making final touches (but not signing anything) on the ordering of equipment and the planning of my project.

Honestly though, even getting the grant isn’t making up for the horrible part of my day…

DONE

For better or for worse my grants are in. The past month (and really week) I've been running around trying to figure out the finishing touches on my grants. I wrote finished two last night. One was for my fitness club and the other was for an English Resource Center. I sent my fitness club to a few friends to look over, and AFTER I e-mailed my final copy my friend told me there were a few typos and grammatical mistakes made that she fixed... Ugh. Hopefully the SPA Committee won't notice those... Well, I guess they will now that they are reading my blog.

The other grant I wrote was really short, and it was with another organization. My friend contacted me and told me there was this opportunity, but I had to write the grant in one day. Soooo, the same day I'm trying to get one grant signed, stamped, dated, and edited I was writing a second, completely different one. I certainly feel like my Dad now, and understand why he'd always get grumpy whenever we bothered him while he had to write these things. The thing is, if you take your mind off the grant for too long you lose your place and then start writing something totally incoherent. So, sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have asked you to fix my computer when you were writing your grants.

What are the chances of these grants going through? I don't know honestly. I was told there's quite a few grants going in this time, and the competition for the money will be pretty high. All we can do is hope I did it all right and my project shows the needs of our community. I met again with the director of the sports school and showed him pictures of all the equipment I am trying to buy. He is REALLY excited. I'd be so sad if we didn't get it, because he would be devastated. As for the Resource Center... Well, it's something I've always wanted to do, but I never felt like I had anyone to work with on it. My host father was really helping me with the fitness club (unfortunately he's in Ukraine selling persimmons), and he has been asking me the past 5 months "Any word on the Fitness Club?"

This project is really my defining moment as a Peace Corps Volunteer. All the work I do at school and the University are things that I can feel happy and moderately proud of... but all the tools were already there for me to work it out. The fitness club... this is my creation. This is something I helped find with the help of community members, and it's been a part of me for almost 9 months--that pretty much makes it my baby. I am trying to remain realistic, but I'm hoping for the best, and really looking forward to what the future may hold here.

In other notes... I got more money to buy blackboards. I'll probably be aiming for 7 more. Most will be going to a village school up the road from Keda. Maybe one or two will stay in Keda.

I really wanted to save this for my last paragraph. This is a THANK YOU to my friends and family who helped me with donations. With your help we raised over $1000 for the project. $1000!!!!!! I have to thank you all, and I already have planned exactly what the money will buy. The project still isn't closed, and you can continue contributing to the project until it reaches $1800 or I close it (which will happen if I get the other grant). I honestly haven't thought about what I'd do if I don't get the grant. What would happen to the $1000? I suppose I'd have to find a way to either return the money or use it on another project? I'm not sure how that works.

Some of you have also asked about the safety of Wide Awake. Wide Awake is COMPLETELY 100% SAFE. Right now they are still in their testing phase, and they are waiting to renew the security subscription until they switch over to their new system. Stay tuned, too, because I will be adding more projects to the Wide Awake site--projects that will be considerably smaller, but nonetheless critical to my community's need.

THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Grants, Grants, and Grants

It's the moment of truth everybody...

On Monday I turn in my Small Projects Assistance (SPA) grant to Peace Corps. From there it is reviewed by a committee of other Volunteers who will determine whether or not I will receive Peace Corps funding for my fitness club. If I get the funds I will be in fat city. I have a substantial community contribution and you have all been awesome--or I've been annoying--enough to get $1000 from Wide Awake for this project. I won't give the total amount of the project or anything else, but I do want to thank all of you who donated. Just thought I'd point out that I lowered to amount asked for to 1800. Please, if you can continue donating and help us out some more. If I get the grant I will likely close out the donations very quickly so I can get the money. If I get this grant I won't need any more donation (for this project).

Wide Awake is a great place to do business. I got a few e-mails from friends and family that warned it seemed sketchy because their security certificate was expired or because of terms in the contract (which are things they are bound by law to do). I have contacted them about all these and I am happy to say that they ARE safe. So, don't be scared. I will be looking at doing some more projects. One in particular is to make an English Resource Room in my school, or somewhere in Keda that everyone can use. What does this entail?

1) Desk
2) Chairs
3) Computer
4) CD Player
5) English textbooks
6) English reader books with CDs
7) Blackboard
8) Shelf
9) Posters
10) Projector

I'm sure there will be other things, but this would be good for now. I haven't done much research in costs, but I'll do that soon and then start posting donations on Wide Awake. I have also thought about replacing ALL the chalkboards at my school (they are all in bad shape).

One thing at a time though... Let's get this done!!!!!!!!!!!

It's Pechi Time

I’d like to introduce you to my best friend. It only comes out from October to April; it’s large, and HOT! PCVs gather around these fine contraptions when we aren’t huddled in our sleeping bags during winter. In Russian this is a “pech(i)” (the extra “I” is how Georgians put it in nominative case, I am “Tomi”), but “pechka” is colloquial (thanks to my Ukrainian girlfriend for the clarifications), in Georgian it is “ghumeli”, but I usually say “pech(i)”. There aren’t many places (even in large cities) that have central heating in Georgia, and Keda is no different (though I have heard rumors that it’s coming soon). So these wood stoves give us heat during winter. The big problem with them is they only heat one room, which means I will spend the next 6 months huddled in this room trying to stay warm. The upside is a pechi is a great trash-bin.

So, this is our pechi. Not much to look at, but it is a lot of fun. There really is nothing better than coming home from school, lighting the pechi and falling asleep in a room well heated by it’s warmth. These ugly, rusty, dangerous devices certainly make me feel like I’m in Peace Corps. They are also pretty fun to take care of. I mean, I love fire, and so the pechi is a lot of fun to play with and sometimes I’ll just sit there and stare at the fire.

I would really love to have this little contraption in my room. I hate waking up in the morning and having to get dressed and everything when it’s SO cold. Last winter I’d wake up and immediately run to the pechi room (my host father wake up early to light it). Soon I’ll have to get my sleeping bag out, too. I’m not looking forward to that. So for the next 6 months I’ll be in this room or in my sleeping bag.

So, next time you walk into you centrally heated house. Or, wake up and walk around barefoot and half naked around your house in the winter please say “thank you” to my pechi for at least keeping me warm in one room.

*Edit* I should also point out how awesome it is to put clean clothes under the pechi and come out of the shower to warm shirts and underwear. It's like taking something straight out of the dryer... Pechi Style

NaBloPoMo Failure

I failed. Even after returning from Ukraine I didn't write an entry. Honestly, I haven't really wanted to. Leaving left a hole in me that has been bothering me since. I've been a bit more negative and agitated as I have to readjust to a lifestyle with false smiles and judgmental eyes (from HCNs and Volunteers alike). I'm never really able to be myself in Georgia, and I think that's what agitates me the most. There are a SMALL handful of Volunteers and even fewer HCNs that I can feel comfortable talking to as myself. Most of the time I'm putting on my own fake smiles to keep everything on an even keel. Sometimes I wish I was in a tiny village with no cell phone and could just work in the fields all day as opposed to a school. 

One of the hardest things is that I can understand almost everything people say in Georgian, but I lack the ability to respond well. When I do try to respond it comes out as if I were a child and then some people think I'm an idiot. It's almost as if people think that what I say in a six-year-old's vocabulary means I can only think at a six-year-old's level. So often I just have to sit there and listen while people talk and talk right in front of me. It's probably the worst thing about getting better at Georgian is being able to fully understand when "friends" and co-workers are talking about you. 

Still, that's neither here nor there, and I'll have to wait until July 9, 2012 to give my full opinion on everything. Until then I'll toss around my own fake smile and forced laugh and let people think I don't know anything. Instead I'll fill everyone in on Ukraine. I know my friends and family are interested in knowing, and I know PCVs would love something else to talk and gossip about. So here we go...

My last real entry was about our water park night. It was a really fun time, and I already decided that my next visit MUST include a trip back. It's not a large place, and it can easily be finished in a matter of 2 hours, but I'd like to sit in the hot tubs for more than 5 minutes. 

On Sunday Ana and I hosted some of her best friends for a little get together and some drinking. We all got to know each other, play beer pong (thanks to Johnny for his balls) and Kings. She was maid-of-honor at one of her friend's weddings just a week prior and her other best friend's boyfriend was visiting from the States. It was good meeting her friends and beginning to see all the different parts of her life. I truly don't believe you can ever truly know someone until you see their friends. It was a good day, but at the same time I knew I was more than halfway through my vacation.

On Monday I waited for Anastasiya to get off work and then we decided to go downtown to find me a new winter coat. I have a winter coat but it makes me look like a black (or red depending if I turn it inside out) marshmallow. Basically it’s not a good coat to wear when I need to look nice. So we wandered around downtown looking for a peacoat. We stopped at a few places, but Anastasiya wasn’t too fond of any of them so we kept looking. Finally we stopped in one store and she took down one coat that was about double the amount I actually wanted to spend on a coat. I put it on and just really liked it. It fits me almost perfectly and definitely works for my frame. Here it is:

Later that night we celebrated by making tacos. There was no ground beef but we made it with chicken. Still it was delicious.

The next day Anastasiya went to work and I stayed to make a 7 layer dip and guacamole. I’m not sure if I made it right, but Ana LOVED it. We didn’t have chips so I broke up unused taco shells and dipped Pringles in it. It was a good night, but still sad. We just tried not to think too much about the next day.

But the next day came nonetheless. I’ll see her again soon. The flight was sad but simple and now I’m back in Georgia. Trying to get back into the swing of things but failing. I’m trying to find my groove in writing lessons and preparing for my SPA grant but I only think about the amazing week I had.

Last Day

This is all I'm going to write today. It's my last night in Kiev and I want to spend my time with Anastasiya--not writing in my blog.

I'll give a larger update tomorrow.

Another Hello From Kiev

Unfortunately I am not able to keep up with my NaBloPoMo while I'm here. There's something about having Anastasiya right next to me all the time that makes me not want to spend hours in front of the computer. It could be the fact that we're so busy trying to make the most of the short amount of time I have. Or it could just be this smile:

 

But she is always asking me: "Did you write in your blog today?" I swear she loves my blog more than anybody else. Today she had to go to work and that means I am alone here until 2pm, which gives me a chance to write here a little bit. My last couple entries have been really short, poorly writen, and not descriptive enough.

We've had a great couple of days, and even scattered a Lyon-Family-Adventure in there as well. If there's one thing my family is good at--it's having adventures and having unexpected things happen that make our plans all the more exciting. Like our broken lock:

So we got pizza:

Or Anastasiya's new attempt at opening the door after we aasked the landlord to change the locks. 

The rest of the day ended up being lazy, but we decided we had to do something to make the most out of the day. We decided to go to the indoo waterpark near Kiev. I was like a little kid at Disney World. It was a really fun place, even though one or two rides were a little more painful than others. For example there was one where the floor just moves out from under you and you fall down a tube. That wasn't too fun. You could ride inner-tubes, and two-person tubes.

Yesterday some of Anastasiya's friends came over for a little party. We were playing beer pong and King's Cup. All-in-all it's been a good week, but I can't help but feel disappointed about leaving the day-after-tomorrow. I had to wait two months to see her since the last time, and now I'll probably have to wait another two months. Ugh...

Well, no more moping about it. I should probably get things ready for when she returns from work. So until tomorrow...

Broken Locks and Water Parks

Today was an eventful day. We woke up reasonably early because we wanted to go to an outdoor museum near Kiev. We also needed to stop by the store to get water and some ingredients for Ana to make breakfast. As we were leaving the apartment Ana went to lock the door, got the door locked and then couldn't get the key out. The key was stuck. Eventually I got the key out, but the lock mechanism was broken. The keyhole was sticking out and two of the pins were laying in my hands. So, we were locked out. We had to call the landlord and he came 2 hours later. In the mean time we got some pizza. Yes, at 11am. Needless to say we didn't make it to the outdoor museum.

After a while we decided not to make a complete loss out of a nice weekend day. We went to an indoor water park outside Kiev. This place was huge, and reallllyyyyy fun. They had this tube rollercoaster like ride that we rode several times. You could get a two person tube for the couply people (like us). There was also one ride where you stood on the platform and then the floor gives out from under you and you fall into the water through a tube. It didn't look very popular, and Ana didn't want to do it. But, it looked intriguing so I gave it a shot. Sure enough, having the ground give out from under you isn't a great feeling. Even if you are only falling 10 feet into a nice pool of water.

Another good day. I doubt we'll be able to make the outdoor museum now, but that's okay. I'm still having a great time and will update with pictures ASAP.

Woops

Unfortunately I was not able to write yesterday. The day before I knew I wouldn't have access to a computer so I scheduled a post the day before (assuming my plane would make it). Yesterday I would have posted but Ana's computer had a fun little virus that turned all her icons into Windows Media Player links. Needless to say I didn't want to do anything on such a possessed computer. So I'll start somewhat from the beginning when I left Batumi.

The night before I was supposed to leave it was thunderstorming hard in Batumi. I seriously doubted whether my plane would take off the next day. My host sister and I woke up around 3:30am and had to shut all the windows--but some of the windows don't close all the way and I got a little damp. When I woke up the rain was coming down slower and I didn't hear anymore thunder. So I finish my packing and take the bus to the airport.

I didn't have to wait long before registration started and I was second in line and checked one of my bigger pieces of luggage. Then I head into passport control and walk out easily to "security". I get myself wanded and the "wander" ended up grabbing me in an inappropiate place... awkward. I'd prefer that machine that looks like a Star Trek transporter than that. After I finally got the the waiting area I started reading my book. That's when the "wander" came with another employee and asked if I had a bag checked wrapped in plastic. I said I had a bag, but it wasn't wrapped. I was asked to go along with the "wander" to a back room. Now at this point I'm a little uncomfortable but he takes me to the back area where the baggage is scanned. I doubt people are supposed to be in these areas, but here I am wandering around them because I have a mysterious bag. We get to this plastic bag that's wrapped in tape, and they ask if it's mine. I say it isn't and they ask to see my baggage ticket. Then they realize their stupidity and let me leave. Only to take the next man away that has a last name like Lian. Oopps.

The plane itself looked like a tin can, and I was a little worried getting on it. Especially with the high winds and rain in Batumi. It's strange--I've never been afraid of flying before, but in the past few years I've felt more and more afraid of it. This flight solidified my fear. Our tin-can plane was tossed around like a rag doll through the turbulence. At one point we must hae dropped over a 100 feet because i felt like I was in a roller coaster. We did make it and passport control was easy (being American here ROCKS).

I had to wait around for Ana to arrive because she was coming from work. I talked to some Russian guys and put the pins back on my bag to the amusement of people around me. When Ana came we took the bus and metro to my apartment where I met....... her MOM. Yeah, I was pretty worried, but it all turned out great. We ate a lot and talked about all sorts of things: family, politics, religion, food... everything. Then when it got late they left.

Yesterday I was alone in the apartment until Ana got off of work and she and her mom came. We hung out and ate dinner then dropped her mom at the train station.

Today it was cold and rainy so we've remained indoors and are about to watch a movie, so I better go. I will write more later.

I'm Here

I really don't have time, but I wanted to say I have arrived safely in Ukraine. I've been spending the afternoon and evening with Ana and her mom. It is REALLY cold here. Compared to Batumi I might as well be in Antarctica. I'll give a larger update, and maybe pictures tomorrow or the day after. Until then this entry is just to keep up my NaBloPoMo...

Also if you didn't see this before, check out: http://tomspeacecorps.blogspot.com/2011/10/call-for-help.html

and of course:

http://www.wideawake.org/fitness-club

A Call For Help

Remember this: http://www.wideawake.org/fitness-club?

I was somewhat distraught yesterday. I was talking briefly with my host father about the fitness center we’re trying to put together and he was less than optimistic. I’ve decided that I have to put together another grant to get more money. I was hoping that the money from Wide Awake donations would be able to handle the costs, but I know it will not cover the needs anymore. From the almost 400 Facebook friends I have and the people from all over the world that read my blog it seems few people are willing to help us out. I’ve talked to numerous friends who have donated and I appreciate their donations. Some people I haven’t seen in years (since middle school or high school) have also donated. They’ve been great and I truly appreciate everything they have sacrificed, especially as the economy seems to be slowing down again. Remember, when the US economy goes into recession places like Georgia go into deeper economic turmoil.

One might say, “$500 is still a lot of money, right?” Well, not when compared to the costs of buying a treadmill. I’m also surprised because my sister and sister-in-law are both using donations to help fund their international adoptions. Together they have raised a lot of money, in a short amount of time. I’ve tried contacting friends and family directly. I’ve tried sending mass e-mails to inform people what I’m doing. I post on Facebook. Maybe people are unsure where the money is needed, and that’s why I will post a detailed budget when I get back from Ukraine. I want everyone to know exactly what’s going on, and how the money will be spent. Everything from equipment, transportation, trainings, and materials for classes will be included.

In the meantime I will probably look to lower the goal of my project significantly and focus on other grant opportunities. I can’t say that I’m happy about that, because grant writing with Peace Corps is a long drawn out process with no guarantee of success. It also has limits about how much money I can spend on equipment. A fitness center with no equipment is pretty useless. To make matters worse, the staff at the sports school always asks me what’s going on with the project— they are getting anxious and I can tell they are losing their trust in me in being able to provide this for community. I wouldn’t blame them either. I have been trying to do this for a long time now, and I don’t have much to tell them so far. It also just adds to the rumors that I don’t do much and I’m too young to get respect.

I mean I do understand. People see my project and think it’s a great idea, but money is tight for everyone. I don’t blame anybody, but I am disappointed that maybe I’m not really showing how important or useful this project really is. Maybe people don’t think I have the ability to actually make this project happen. I’m not saying it will be easy, but I want to leave something behind for my community.

So here’s the plan:

1)     1)  Order the equipment (Treadmill, elliptical, total body workout, station, 10 fitness mats, bench, dumbbells, scales, and Olympic weight set)

2)      2) Pick up equipment and bring it back to Keda

3)      3) Set up equipment while bringing a fitness trainer in to teach the staff how to use and care for the machines

4)      4) Make fitness/weight charts, make translations for instructions and buttons in Georgian/Russian

5)      5) Open fitness center and have 10 fitness classes (specifically for women) led by other PCVs

6)      6) The newly trained fitness staff will teach community members how to use the machines and help them devise exercise plans

7)      7) Start healthy lifestyle classes focusing on smoking, drugs, alcohol, women’s health, weight, nutrition, and exercise

8)      8) After 2-3 months (not long before I leave) sponsor a fitness competition for students in Keda

The idea I want to get across here is that once I leave the fitness staff at the sports school will be able to maintain the whole thing themselves. They won’t need me. This project is meant to be sustainable and provide new skills. The center will provide for the needs of an estimated 200 people per year. Many women keep asking me when the project will be completed, because they want it that much.

In Peace Corps, even Peace Corps Georgia we have a wide range of needs and experiences. For example, my good friend got $1800 in donations to build a well. Building a well is a huge undertaking, and something that seems to be a staple of Peace Corps service (he also dug his own outhouse). I on the other hand am in a small town, not a village. This means the projects I need to do to be effective must be of a different sort. It’s the curse of being in a more developed area. Sure I might have a toilet, and more consistent water/electricity, but the projects I have to do become more complex and difficult to accomplish.

I want to put out another call for assistance in raising money. For those of you who have already donated I thank you SO much. Please keep donating if you can. If you haven’t donated but want to—now is your time. Finally, if you are one the ones who read but think someone else will donate and you don’t have to this is my call to you as well. This project only succeeds with the help and backing of people I care about. So far, the municipality of Keda is willing to provide over $1000 for the project. And their budget isn’t much larger than what many families in West Windsor and Plainsboro would make in a year. I am trying to benefit an entire community and provide education of essential fitness and health information. This information and opportunities are often only open to the wealthiest members of society. I want to bridge that gap.

So here’s the link again: http://www.wideawake.org/fitness-club.

Some people said the site said something about not being secure. I contacted Wide Awake and they assured me everything is safe and secure. So whatever you send will be safe and your identity won’t be stolen.

Thanks everyone.

I'm Rambling Now

Once again I am EXHAUSTED. I had to wake up early today and teach three lessons in Keda. Then I packed up all my bags and went to Batumi. I won’t be returning to Keda until after my trip to Ukraine. So I pack up my big bazaar bag and head to the marshutka. It’s still pretty warm out during the day and my light fleece jacket was causing me to burn up. Once I got to Batumi I stopped by the apartment to drop off my heavy bazaar bag, edited my host sister’s essay then went to the university. I have two lessons with my university counterpart and one class alone (my essay writing). After six classes, and traveling to Batumi on a crowded marshutka, and carrying my big bag everywhere I can safely say my legs and brain are in pain.

I really needed this day. And yesterday as well. I feel like I’ve been falling quickly into a pattern of relative laziness. I’ve really been saving my lesson plans and classroom decision to the last minute. I’m not meaning to, and I’m not doing anything else of substance, but I just cannot keep focused on anything for long. It’s quite literally: “Okay, it’s $3000 for a treadmill and…. Oh look, a butterfly!” I know I talk a lot of these issues, and I wouldn’t feel so bad and guilty if I actually got my work done well—but I often don’t. It reminds me of high school and college. I’d have no motivation to do something or get distracted so many times that I turn in some half-assed essay or do poorly on a test. At first you make some mild changes and try to address the issue. But, it never lasts long and then I’m spinning once again down the rabbit hole. You know, after a while you stop caring, too. After a while you resign yourself to whatever it is. Although I say to myself “if I could just read this book for at least one hour I’ll be set” I know it won’t be because I know already I won’t be able to sit down for a straight hour and read. Nope, after two minutes I’ll need to do something else. It could be make dinner, check e-mail, read something else, or play X-Box, but there was always something. Heck, even if I took away all those things the distractions would still be there. I could people watch, I could stare out my window, and I could daydream. Anything to keep the boring stuff at bay.  

I mean, anybody who knows me knows I have a pretty active imagination. Just ask my sister Mary about seeing my coming out of my bedroom dressed like a soldier—at fourteen. She looked at me and just laughed. I’ve always been able to cook up some elaborate and detailed scenario and story and play it over and over in my head. When I read The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe series as a kid I would imagine placing myself in the story itself. Me as one of the characters—saving Peter and the gang. After watching certain movies I’d place myself within the movie and imagine changing the whole plot. In some ways it’s good. My girlfriend always makes comments about how creative I am, and that comes because of the amount of time I spend in my own head. Then when she tells me I should write I say “Hey, that’s a great idea!” But, I also know that the work it takes writing it down and making a story would get tiresome, and movies are much more entertaining, plus the majority of the detail is already there. I don’t have to make it up from scratch.

Today, I may have been tied, my feet may hurt, and my hands are all cut up from picking corn yesterday; but I did work and it feels good. I feel good when I’m productive, and I like being organized, but I have never had the real ability to stay focused on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. I mean this blog is really often an excuse to avoid doing some of the things I feel like I should be doing. I need to write a lesson plan? Welllll, the blog must be written today, too. Don’t ask me what it is, but it’s annoying.

But, now I’m even bored writing the blog entry. So I’m off to find something more exciting to do.

Field of Dreams... Or Corn

I’m really crazy tired right now. This will be extremely short. Today I went with my host family to my host father’s village house to help pick corn. We had some fun times and it was REALLY muddy since it’s been raining nonstop the past few days. My work at the Lee Turkey Farm was a good experience that really taught me some useful things I am putting to good use now. It's also come in handy one or two times with chickens... I won't talk too much about it, though. So here we are doing work:

A little corn... 

Self-portrait picture

My hands got all cut up and Nato took a picture

The village house.

Lunch is served

More parts of the village house

The front of the house

The view from the house

Sorry. Not all posts can be winners. I hope these pictures make up for my lack of writing. But I have 3 lesson plans to take care of right now. I also have to teach 6 classes tomorrow. 3 at the school and 3 at the university. I'll be tired tomorrow, too, so sorry in advance.

Tom and Jerry

Last year I was talking with some of my good friends who complained about having mice roaming their rooms at night. They said they could hear them along the walls and gnawing at things. I considered myself lucky that I hadn’t had to deal with a roaming mouse yet. The other week I came home to my host sister putting a dead mouse—caught in a mouse trap—in a plastic bag and taking it out to the trash. I asked her “tagvi aris?” (It is a mouse?) To which she replies “agher aris” (it’s not anymore). Since then I’ve realized that the changing weather has brought these little critters in from the cold. I decided to keep a look out since then.

I should also point out that in Georgia people are obsessed with Tom and Jerry. Maybe not obsessed, because I’ve never seen anyone watch it, but they are constantly say “Tom and Jerry, Tom and Jerry” to me. Or going, “So, you’re Tom. Where’s Jerry?” I usually just smile and tell them that show is outdated and my niece used to be obsessed with it—insinuating they have the maturity of a (almost) five-year-old girl. That usually gets people laughing and the conversation turns to things. My counterparts will raise hell with students if they say “Tom and Jerry” to me, because it is annoying, and it is also rude. But this is a true Tom & Jerry story.

Last night I was reading these new books a G9 had recommended to me before he left—Game of Thrones. I hear they have an HBO series of it now, too. I was putting away my Nook at about 12:30 and turned out my lights when I heard it: tap, tap, taptap, taptaptap. It was raining last night and I foolishly thought the rain was just playing some tricks on me. I sat up somewhat concerned and didn’t see anything, so I calmed myself down and decided it was just something moving or falling a bit. I put my head down and rest my eyes.

I could hear the sound a bit closer. It was right at the edge of my bed. Then I hear scratch, scratch, scratch. I once again convinced myself it was my eyelashes twitching on the pillow or anything other than what my gut feeling was telling me. I could almost hear this scratching as if it was right to me; right underneath my pillow. Well, that’s because it was! I opened my eyes just in time to see a little brown ball of fur race across my bed, six inches from my face. I tried to catch him that second but he was too quick and ran off. This was war.

No denying it this time. There was a mouse in my room and I was determined to catch him or chase him away. I sat up and grabbed my flashlight and shined it towards all the corners of my room, under dressers, chairs, desks, and finally my bed. There he was again, he was peaking his little head between my sleeping bag and travel suitcase. He saw the light and quickly ran off under the confusion of the bed. So, I took everything out from underneath my bed. Then I turned off my flashlight and stood very still until I could hear him moving about again. I turned on my light and shined it straight at him, and also trying to corner him. Again, he was too fast and hid underneath a dresser and then a chair.

My host father was going to the bathroom when he saw me getting things to help my cause from the kitchen and asked what I was doing. I told him there was a mouse I was trying to catch. He said we’d wait till morning and deal with it then. Mostly I was just annoyed that a mouse had the audacity to stage an attack on my bed. This mouse was goin’ DOWN!

I decided to kick him out of the house instead on catching him. I opened my door and closed all the other doors along the long hallway of our apartment, and then leaving only the front door open. I found him and chased him out the door (he’d been scratching at the door trying to get out, too. Apparently he didn’t enjoy my company much either. From there it was relatively easy. Imagine me at 3:30am, my host family sound asleep in their beds, and me racing down a dark hallway flashlight in one hand and rolled up flip-chart paper in the other. Yeah, interesting thought. The mouse tried to hide out under our hallway coat rack but I took an umbrella and chased him pretty quickly out of there.

My host family also has a vestibule area and there were too many places he could hide in there. But I decided my job was sufficiently accomplished and finally went to bed. I woke up this morning to my host family having a good laugh over my antics the previous night. We then told my host sister I chased the mouse into her room. I’m a very nice older brother. I learned from the best, Dean. Since then we placed a half-dozen mouse traps around the house.

I seriously doubt that mouse will return to my room anytime soon though. 

The Lyon Makes Wine

I don't know how many of you know this, but the earliest evidence of wine making is in Georgia. For all of you lovers of wine who talk big about French and Italian wine there is a lot of history of wine here. I personally like Georgian wine a lot, but I know many people who don't. Wine here is not meant to be sipped lightly either--no it's meant to be jugged and the glasses are supposed to be empty after each toast. So, the wine has a significantly different taste and texture than wine we are used to in bottles.

Another distinct difference that I like is that almost all the wine consumed in homemade. Families in Georgia grow their own grapes, harvest the grapes, then make their own wine that will usually last until the summer and then the process continues. With all this practice families really know what they're doing when it comes to wine-making. I have been really looking forward to this day all year. My host father and I were supposed to make wine last year together (before he became my host father), but I was called away for something Peace Corps related and missed it. I've waited a long time for this, and so we woke up early this morning and got to work making the juice.

We didn't do it like in the movies where pretty girls jump around in grapes in a big pool of grapey goodness. Nope, we aren't making THAT much wine so we just did it by hand and a wooden hammer. Basically it's all done by hand, no machines are involved whatsoever. I think that makes it pretty cool. Nadimi spent a lot of time talking about how to make good wine and teaching me so I can make it when I got back to the USA. Again, this isn't a professional and business deal. This is just the wine we drink at supra's and give as gifts to people like Kelly when they come visit. I'll probably be given about five liters of our wine in Fanta bottles to take home with me when I visit for Christmas. My father and I will have a good time with all this wine. Also, a Georgian man can/will drink 1-3 liters of wine at a supra. So my father better be prepared.

Anyway, we make white wine mainly out here in the west. The seasons aren't really as conducive to good grapes as it is out east in the Kakheti region, which is known for it's delicious black wine. My host father doesn't make a lot of wine, but he takes great pride in it. He is well known in Keda for is wine, but he NEVER sells it.

First we clean all the bowls and equipment thoroughly. Then we sift through the grapes and take out all the ones that are shriveled and bad. Then we put it in a big bowl and smash it with a wooden mallet. Then we put the smashed grapes (that have now collected juice) through a drainer and continue smashing them by hand as well. we take that juice and put it in another glass container where it will sit for a few days to let the solid pieces go to the bottom. Then we siphon it out into other containers. We filter it about 3 times over two months. I don't know the scientific process by which ethanol is created, but Nadimi tells me to make good wine it takes 2 months to one year.

Now all the leftover parts of the grapes are put into a big garbage can where it will collect and be "bad wine". Essentially wine that has sugar and water added. Nadimi hates that time of wine, but he can make a lot of it this way. Here are some cool pictures of today's work. We will have more work ahead of us over the next few months.

I do want to point out that I was basically following Nadimi's instructions and trying to understand as much about the process as I could understand. If I got any of the above information incorrect I apologize. Nonetheless, it was an interesting day.

The first batch of grapes. Our nice early morning start...

My host father going to town on the grapes...

Now the juice is being drained into another container

More grapes...

The trash can with the leftover grapes.

The draining of the grapes, and our first little bit of juice.

Pouring the juice into the container. 

Sifting through to find reject grapes. 

There was a lot of squatting involved.

Mmmmm juice.

Nadimi relieved me of the mallet shortly after

This was actually hard work after the 10th batch.

The completed grape juice.

So Nadimi and I are going to have a little competition. I'll make the batch on the left. He takes the batch on the right and we'll see whose wine is better. His will be better. Definitely. 

As the  solid pieces sink to the bottom we will siphon and filter it out to make it clean. Right now it's just juice.

Reject grapes that would ruin the taste

Anyway, I'm tired now and have some budget to write for my SPA grant. Hope all is well.