Georgia
6:54 AM
It's quite funny to have to explain endlessly that I haven't moved to the state of Georgia. At last out of Norway but still very much in it mentally, I went into my future. I equate myself to a middle-aged phoenix. Somehow I always rise from the ashes, especially women from Minnesota and the endless hallways of Norwegian bureaucracy.
The flight from Riga was an adventure in a world I thought I would never see again. I forgot how pushy and aggressive Eastern Europeans can be, and that is said with all politeness. Not out of rudeness, but out of survival. It's acceptable to cut in front of someone, ignore lines and generally make a menace of yourself. I didn't take any of it personally, but was shocked how easy I was back in the same mindset.
It's how things work.
The plane was a microcosm of the eastern world: Russians tanking small bottles of this and that, stylish Georgians who seemed at home in the big wide world, while others clearly ignored AirBaltic's one bag policy, bringing their family belongings in large babushka shopping bags. The announcement, in Latvian, Georgian, Russian and English, to buckle your seat belt was ignored until a flight attendant kindly asked them to put them on, again. A hangover from the post-communist world where any type of authority was bad, like fire drills. Some have gotten burnt. One lone American, and a Chinese female national who just knew was going to be a problem at passport control.
The plane rolled over what was the Soviet Union, the former enemy and present friend in tow. It all seemed so passé that we take it for granted, but in another lifetime, I was committing high treason. Speaking of Russians, I made a joke at my going-away party that I hoped the Russians loved their children, too. It fit into some story or another. The 20+ looked strangely at me as if I has said something prophetic, while the +40 mustered "we-survived" giggles.
Tbilisi. -2. It seems nearly all flights in and out of Georgia are ridiculously late, or early, depending on your viewpoint. Amazingly, the project manager was there to meet me at 5:30 AM. The luggage piled to the rafters, and away we sped. We chatted and I got the sense that she was not the average Georgian. She seems very outspoken and comfortable with herself, and not afraid to be the very modern woman. I veered off the subject of politics as I thought I had only just entered to the van. After Greenland, I avoid that like the proverbial plague.
Tbilisi is fascinating at night. It appears the Georgians want to light everything possible, and medieval fortresses flow around state-of-the-art design buildings by some serious designers from the corners of Europe. The colors are breathtaking, with the radio tower dominating the scene. The various ministries are strewn around the winding twistiness, and they are all lit. It seems that the government is determined to give national symbols of modernity, and to light them up to show that Georgia is a bright place, on its way to somewhere.
The Georgians are so kind that at first it seems like an act. The hotel staff fell over themselves to get the luggage into the room. The project manager is a ball of fire and seems genuinely to want to help. More important, she gets it, and still knows the project will be a success. The four of us seem united and on the same page. The project doesn't seem difficult, but time-consuming and an exercise in organization. I went back to the room after the first round of meetings to find all my clothes neatly folded and my luggage organized by the cleaning people. It seems like the project. Georgians seem to be what all the stereotypes pour out of the guidebooks. They really do like visitors to their country. They are wildly proud but not boisterous. They're incredibly kind. I'll have to wait to the first wine/dinner.
The most amusing part of the day were two young Americans who gave us the skinny on life in Georgia. The woman was hysterical and didn't mince when she called Georgian men hmmm, rather ill-defined bastards in the modern order of the sexes, and women still stuck with most of the drudgery of life, while very much in all likely keeping the country and state together.
Norwegian phone doesn't work here and I cannot pick up on a network. Frustrating but I was just as quickly given a Georgian SIM card. I talked with Dag on Skype and the world seems to be all in place.
Not having slept for 24 hours, I've done remarkably well. Completely mystified by the height of the light and power switches. They're clearly made for three year-olds.
The flight from Riga was an adventure in a world I thought I would never see again. I forgot how pushy and aggressive Eastern Europeans can be, and that is said with all politeness. Not out of rudeness, but out of survival. It's acceptable to cut in front of someone, ignore lines and generally make a menace of yourself. I didn't take any of it personally, but was shocked how easy I was back in the same mindset.
It's how things work.
The plane was a microcosm of the eastern world: Russians tanking small bottles of this and that, stylish Georgians who seemed at home in the big wide world, while others clearly ignored AirBaltic's one bag policy, bringing their family belongings in large babushka shopping bags. The announcement, in Latvian, Georgian, Russian and English, to buckle your seat belt was ignored until a flight attendant kindly asked them to put them on, again. A hangover from the post-communist world where any type of authority was bad, like fire drills. Some have gotten burnt. One lone American, and a Chinese female national who just knew was going to be a problem at passport control.
The plane rolled over what was the Soviet Union, the former enemy and present friend in tow. It all seemed so passé that we take it for granted, but in another lifetime, I was committing high treason. Speaking of Russians, I made a joke at my going-away party that I hoped the Russians loved their children, too. It fit into some story or another. The 20+ looked strangely at me as if I has said something prophetic, while the +40 mustered "we-survived" giggles.
Tbilisi. -2. It seems nearly all flights in and out of Georgia are ridiculously late, or early, depending on your viewpoint. Amazingly, the project manager was there to meet me at 5:30 AM. The luggage piled to the rafters, and away we sped. We chatted and I got the sense that she was not the average Georgian. She seems very outspoken and comfortable with herself, and not afraid to be the very modern woman. I veered off the subject of politics as I thought I had only just entered to the van. After Greenland, I avoid that like the proverbial plague.
Tbilisi is fascinating at night. It appears the Georgians want to light everything possible, and medieval fortresses flow around state-of-the-art design buildings by some serious designers from the corners of Europe. The colors are breathtaking, with the radio tower dominating the scene. The various ministries are strewn around the winding twistiness, and they are all lit. It seems that the government is determined to give national symbols of modernity, and to light them up to show that Georgia is a bright place, on its way to somewhere.
The Georgians are so kind that at first it seems like an act. The hotel staff fell over themselves to get the luggage into the room. The project manager is a ball of fire and seems genuinely to want to help. More important, she gets it, and still knows the project will be a success. The four of us seem united and on the same page. The project doesn't seem difficult, but time-consuming and an exercise in organization. I went back to the room after the first round of meetings to find all my clothes neatly folded and my luggage organized by the cleaning people. It seems like the project. Georgians seem to be what all the stereotypes pour out of the guidebooks. They really do like visitors to their country. They are wildly proud but not boisterous. They're incredibly kind. I'll have to wait to the first wine/dinner.
The most amusing part of the day were two young Americans who gave us the skinny on life in Georgia. The woman was hysterical and didn't mince when she called Georgian men hmmm, rather ill-defined bastards in the modern order of the sexes, and women still stuck with most of the drudgery of life, while very much in all likely keeping the country and state together.
Norwegian phone doesn't work here and I cannot pick up on a network. Frustrating but I was just as quickly given a Georgian SIM card. I talked with Dag on Skype and the world seems to be all in place.
Not having slept for 24 hours, I've done remarkably well. Completely mystified by the height of the light and power switches. They're clearly made for three year-olds.
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