Domavoi for Sale/Adoption/FREE

Alas, the domavoi, Russian house sprite, is harassing me so I am putting it up for adoption/sale/giving it away. Yes, I know my house is in Georgia, but the house was made during the Soviet period, so I am going to assume it has one.

Several frustrating scenarios have occurred since I have arrived. For instance, the other night, I was walking down the stairwell, which has no lighting, when I stepped on a random cactus. I have no clue from where this cactus came.   Luckily, I only had three big thorns that could easily be taken out by tweezers, but why did it have to happen?

Eventually, I fell asleep last night deciding to be proactive by going running in the morning.

Up until today, I have been too worried to exercise. Exercising doesn’t really exist here. Although my host cousin tells me that she does yoga in her apartment back in Tbilisi and runs in the yard while in the village. Previous volunteers warned me about the hassles of exercising outside of the yard. Some advice included a list of inappropriate clothing one should not wear, reasons why you will always be stared at (because people wonder to where are you running and why so quickly), and to watch out for village dogs who will chase you.  But after talking to another volunteer who lives several villages away about the inevitability of gaining weight if we didn’t do something now, I decided to give running a try.

So this morning, I went running/walking and gasping for air up the mountain (it could have been a really big hill, I don’t know) to the peach orchards that my family owns. My run was frequently halted by herds of sheep, getting hit by figs falling from the sky, and rocky paths that were too dangerous to run.  But I managed to get a work out, and headed back home proud of conquering my fear.

Then the domavoi struck. I went into the bathroom to take a shower, and there was no electricity. This meant I couldn’t take a shower. I am now used to not having electricity during the day, but not when I want to shower. My host mother and father explained that I would have to take a bucket bath. When hearing the sound of those words strung together, I wanted to cry. I wanted to find the small panjuri hammer and throw a tantrum like my little friend. However, since I am not a one year old, I told myself to save those tears for a time when I would really need them, and drink coffee instead.  I drank two cups of coffee and had breakfast while I waited for the 10 liter bucket to boil. I dreaded every moment that went by, praying to all the world’s deities that the electricity would turn on, but alas no one listened; I had to take the bucket bath.

I managed to take the bucket bath. In order to have a bucket bath, you need two buckets of water, one that is cold and one that is hot. You have to mix the two in a pitcher and bathe accordingly. Let’s just say, I survived and was proud once more that I had conquered yet another challenge. As I was walking up the stairs to my room, I was pondering how these moments of great satisfaction, like running in the peach orchards, are always followed by another challenge, aka the bucket bath. And as I walked into my room, the electricity turned on.  ….Not cool, Mr. House Sprite. I really needed to wash my hair today.

So if anyone has literature about how to get rid of domavois or the rules of switching them to another house, I send it my way. I would love to know. 

Georgian Eggplant Side Dish Recipe

4 eggplants

1 head of garlic

2 table spoons of water

3 tablespoons of salt

2 cups of rapeseed oil

1.    Mince garlic in pestle and mortar. Place in small bowl and add water.

2.    Add rapeseed oil to deep frying pan and place on high heat.

3.    Peel eggplants with a striped pattern (keep some peel on the eggplant). Cut off top and bottom. Then cut strips a centimeter thick lengthwise. Sprinkle the eggplant slices with salt.

4.     Place eggplant slices in the pan when oil begins to boil. Flip slice when underside is brown. 

5.    Once both sides are brown, strain slices. Let sit until room temperature. Before serving, pour garlic mixture over the eggplant. 

 Enjoy!

One is the Loneliest Number…

Today is a sad day. My best friend (of five whole days) in the village is leaving me for better things in Tbilisi. She is one fourth my size with curly brown hair in ringlets and huge light blue eyes. When there is music playing, which there frequently is in this household of musicians, she throws her hands up in the air, puts on a big smile, and begins to dance on her tiptoes. We eat sunflower seeds together and scribble on scrap pieces of paper (although, I am actually trying to write the Georgian alphabet). She knows about as much Georgian as I do (ara-no, modi-come, daeda-mom, mama-dad, baba-grandmother/father…eh, she knows that one better than I do). She doesn’t care if I speak English to her, and I don’t care if she speaks Georgian baby talk to me. We make do with charades. Grant it at times, she had a tendency to eat her dresses and terrorize the dog with a small panjuri (Georgian guitar) hammer, but we all have our moments. Yes?  I am told I will see her again soon.  Hopefully, by then we can carry on simple conversations like ‘hi’ and ‘bye,’ but for now, I will just continue to study in the village without my joyful little friend.

Mean Trick

The grown-ups played a trick on my little friend today before she left.

She was playing with her bucket and shovel, when she began screaming and pointing to inside the bucket. Someone had placed the unthinkable in her toy, two carrots.

Her confused mama (father) picked up the carrots and gave them to her, but she let them fall on the couch and inched toward them, still screaming, with her pointer finger stretched out. She touched the carrot and quickly backed away. I can’t say that I am in expert in Georgian baby talk, but I am pretty sure she was pissed.

As traumatized as my host niece was about the situation, my host mother was thrilled. She, the culprit of the trick, was giggling in the corner. She walked over to my host niece and showed her how to eat a carrot. Warily, my host niece approached the carrot, nibbled, and ran to her mother. 

Luckily for my little friend, the carrots did not make it back to Tbilisi.

This Is How We Go Out

While my host brother is visiting with his wife and cousin, my host sister and I go out with them to different parts of the nearby city at night. They meet up with their friends, buy snacks, play the guitar and sing songs. For anyone who has received my texts during this time, this is what I call the “sing-a-longs.” The first night we went to the town cultural center (theater) and hung out on the steps for a couple of hours. My host niece sometimes comes with us. Of course, she just dances to the music until she falls asleep. Last night we went to a monument park dedicated to a soldier who had fallen in battle while looking for his son.  The park included an amphitheater, where our groups’ singers and guitar players performed. Most of the songs are in English like pieces from Green Day, Adele, Johnny Cash, and a special rendition of Elvis Presley’s "Heartbreak Hotel." One Georgian song, called “You Are My Queen,” from a famous Georgian film, The Toy Soldiers Are Laughing is quite popular among the group.  It’s interesting to see just how many people there are out at night. It’s mostly young people hanging out with their friends around town. 

Georgian Food

The other day, I was invited to help make several traditional Georgian dishes.

In the morning, my host sister-in-law and her adorable child were working together to make churchkhela , which is a traditional Georgian candy that you can often find in markets. This sweet treat is made of unfermented grape juice, flour, and walnuts. Before processed foods, my host father told me, Georgian warriors would take churchkhela with them to war because it is so high in calories.

To begin, you double thread about a foot of string with a needle. Tie a knot at the bottom. Then begin to string the walnuts on the thread. After 6 inches, stop, tie a knot, and begin again. My host father told me that during the harvest time, people will make 100s of these in a single batch.

The gummy part that you dip the string of walnuts in is a caramel made of grape juice and flour boiled in a pot. While the mixture is still boiling, take the nuts and cover them with the caramel (we used a wooden spoon to help).  Hang your churchkhela on a stick outside, and they’ll be ready in 2 weeks depending on the weather.

Now, the best part of this process is the left over caramel which you just eat with a spoon and the left over walnuts.

We also made mother’s bread (puri is bread), which is a long flat bread that families in the villages will make batches of once or twice a week. My host grandmother is in charge of this process; however, since she is older, a neighbor comes over to help her. Baking the bread was a day long process that I only saw parts of between my naps so some of these steps are based on assumption. The women made several batches of a double rise dough (remember this bread is bread for the entire family/business for the week, and we eat bread at every meal, so the batch is HUGE). Then they made a fire in the outdoor stove, which is about hip-high, 4 feet across, and resembles a chimney. As the fire was cooling off, we (yup, this is where I came in) made small little boules (everyone was impressed with my bread shaping-I think may have redeemed myself from the basil fiasco), which the neighbor would then stretch, flip it back and forth between her hands to elongate it, then slap them to the side of the oven beginning at the top. She continued this process until the oven was full. Each loaf takes about 20 minutes to cook. When the loaf was ready, she would scrape them off the sides of the oven.

Cultural Side Note: I made a Georgian faux pas yesterday when I placed the bread wrong side up.  That is to say, the side that was attached to the oven (it usually is darker with some black specs), should never face up.  I don’t know why. My host father said “TIG,” which means This Is Georgia.  Basically, this is a catch all phrase for the things that are Georgian, but on the surface don’t make sense.

Finally, my host sister taught me how to make khachapuri, which is cheese bread. I had learned how to make one kind before from my friend Inna; however this was “Eastern” Georgian khachapuri, which is a little different.  Although it is super simple to prepare. You make smaller boules from the mother bread dough, and then flatten it with your finger tips. Once flattened, you add a huge heap of shredded cheese to the middle of your dough. Then take one side, and slowly pinch the edges together into a dumpling shape. Tear off any extra dough. Flip your khachapuri so that your pinched edges are on the bottom and begin to flatten with your finger tips again. Once you think it is a good height, check the bottom to make sure there are no holes, and throw it into the frying pan. You’ll know it is time to flip the khachapuri when the bottom is a bit brown. Flip. Add butter. Cook. Then place on plate with more butter. Cut into fourths.  You must eat with your hands.

I had a lot of khachapuri that day. I think next time I make this dish, I will add scallions to the cheese mixture to give it more depth in flavor.

I Thought It Was Only in Winter

When I read in previous volunteers’ blogs that they had a lot of spare time while living in the village, I thought that sounded nice. Some caught up on reading the classics, others became fluent in a language and others studied for the GRE. Of course, I thought this meant during the winter when schools were possibly closed. By this time, I would be familiar with the family’s daily pattern and wrapped up in a comfy blanket with hot cocoa.  But alas, I did not consider the “before school starts” time. 

Grant it, I have been in my village less than a week, but occupying my time without wireless internet is incredibly difficult. I spend a large amount of time trying to make sense of the Georgian alphabet, and when I feel utterly stupid, I switch to Russian (it is debatable whether or not this helps my self-esteem). I sit, watch my host family, and try to identify Georgian words I know. My host family also has a piano which I practice at least once an hour each day. Often, I stare at my phone trying to send people telepathic messages to call/text me. I do bird watching from my window while drinking tea in the morning and afternoons. I don’t know what kind of birds they are but there are lots of them. Usually there is one big event of the day that gets me out of the hose like a tour of the neighborhood or the peach garden. Yesterday, I met a TLG volunteer and several Peace Corps volunteers in town. Today my host sister and I are going to visit my school.

 What does my family do? My host family cleans in the morning. The grandmother seems to be in charge of the garden and chickens (I would help her, but I don’t know if I have lost all credibility in the garden since the basil fiasco. She was chuckling at me yesterday as I made my way to the basil plant for my caprese salad, which also made me laugh). The grandfather spends all day in the woodworking shop building Georgian three-string guitars (But they are not called guitars. Everyone gets very offended if I refer to them as guitars. I should probably make a flashcard for that word). As for the others, around mid-day they disappear, I suspect, into a room with a tv, which I have yet to find, but often hear. 

I am sure when school starts and I become more familiar with the people and surrounding areas, I will hopefully be able to do more.  My hope is to find a running path that won’t kill me. The roads here are made of huge loose rocks. My host cousin told me that it is good to run around in the yard. However, I am still baffled as to how one does that in such a small space.  There is a TLG volunteer four villages away (about 7km) that I could practice running to, but I think, exercising in general is a foreign concept in the village.