The
owner of my homestay is a 70-year-old woman named Dodo (Dodo's
Homestay). Dodo is a common name here but I just can't get used to
respectfully referring to someone as 'Dodo'. Feels a little too much
like I'm calling her a dumbass: Excuse me Dumbass, how much
to have my laundry done? Dumbass, do you know where I could find a
Russian tutor? Coffee? That would be great Dumbass.
There
is a brand of toilet paper here that I have affectionately designated
Soviet Soft. It has the texture of burlap and one must take care not
to scrap one's rim clean off. I recommend splurging on an upgrade. Or
just use your hand. Actually, it is probably better to just go ahead
and shit in your pants as opposed to subjecting your poop chute to
the ordeal.
If you
would like to check 'Watch Young Georgians Make Out And Fondle Each
Other' off your list of Things to Do in Tbilisi I
suggest you make your way to any wooded public park. I suspect if you
stray from the trail you might even trip over a few love birds
rustling each other's feathers so to speak. Not that I am complaining
as at least here I can stare a women in the eye without feeling like
I've committed a lewd act (as opposed to Azerbaijan). Don't get the
wrong impression, according to what I've read woman still insist on
marriage as a prerequisite for doing the nasty. In fact many are now
pushing back D-Day well into their mid-twenties. Imagine if you had
to get married to get laid. Young folks here would love Vegas.
My
fashion status is slowly inching its way toward critical. My clothing
is literally starting to disintegrate off my body. I have duct tape
on my sandals and on the cloth water holster (water purse?) I wear
around my shoulder. I scream cool. Scream it. No wonder people around
here look at me like I'm a vagrant.
I
am really starting to like Georgian wine….. a lot. I like it so
much that I am considering alcoholism as a new hobby. Not only is it
economical (at least if purchased from a supermarket) but due to its
lack of western-style preservatives the hangover effect is minimal
(or so I've read. I may need to conduct field research to confirm).
Wine is such an inextricable part of Georgian culture I'm not sure
they even have a word for 'alcoholism'.
No
shortage of vodka either. I think there are 2.8 million varieties in
the Caucasus region. And don't forget chacha,
a Georgian liquor made from grapes known as 'vine vodka'. Many folks
make it at home but it is produced commercially as well. I have yet
to partake.
I
saw a kid no more than 13 years old throwing down shots of vodka with
daddy in an upper class restaurant. I've also seen a kid about the
same age driving a car. I guess I'll start worrying when I see a
13-year-old throwing down vodka shots while driving. But then again….
Think
I am an adventurer? I'm bullshit. I just met two dudes that make me
look like the guy driving the minivan to Disney World, you know, the
one wearing mouse ears and a fanny pack. One is a Danish ex-airline
pilot named Frode.
His idea of a family vacation is to take his girlfriend and two
teenage sons on a two month long camping/kayaking extravaganza in
Middle Of Nowhere Canada, the kind of place where you may find
yourself completely isolated for five days at a time with no chance
of rescue. He has been to all seven continents and 125 countries. I
think he's spent more time scuba diving than I have breathing. He
recently visited northern Iraq as a tourist. I've asked him to adopt
me. Need I say more?
The
other is an Israeli man named Roei that
has been traveling across the planet on his bicycle. He's been at it
for three years. His route started in Alaska, lead him to the tip of
Patagonia where he then hopped a plane to South Africa, made his way
to Europe via East Africa, and then onto Asia. It appears Australia
will be his final destination. Back in Israel he is a bit of a
celebrity and has been featured on numerous news broadcasts across
the world. He made the local news in San Diego when he was robbed at
gunpoint in Baja California and then given a lift back to the US by
some American surfer dudes in order to purchase new gear. He's been
hit by a vehicle on two separate occasions, contracted a deadly form
of malaria that would have killed him had a missionary not brought
him to the doctors on time, and been given a beachfront guesthouse on
the coast of Mozambique as a present by the owner (he has the papers
to prove it).
I
admit it. I'm a pussy. Hear me purr.
— Paulo Coelho
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| Israeli Roei |
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