TLG is a lot of things to a lot of people: a chance to teach abroad, professional development, an opportunity, an escape, an adventure.  One of the lesser-advertised benefits of the program, however, is that it thrusts you into a group of like-minded people who are going through the same trials and tribulations at the same time as you.  It wasn’t until I was part way through Georgian language lessons at Orientation Training that this began to dawn on me.  As we all struggled to wrap our voices around letters like ყ and წ, I made friends with a German and a Malaysian at my table and was quick to add their numbers to my shiny new phone.

Over the course of the semester, Group 2 spent a couple of weekends together every month.  First there was Rob and Ashley’s Georgian Wedding, followed by an epic Halloween Party in Zugdidi’s Movie Theater, and an American Thanksgiving in Martvilicomplete with American Football and a home-cooked Georgian-American Suphra!

It was even televised for the local channel! And yes, we all chose to dress that way.

When we weren’t together, we often called each other to chat, to gripe, to moan, to advise, and to laugh.  TLG provides all of its volunteers with corporate cell phones that can call each other for free!  I can’t count how many times my friends and I hit the 30-minute automatic disconnection.  Through thick and through thin, our fellow volunteers were our constant source of support and comfort.  As we learned to navigate Georgian transportation, communicate in sign language, and adapt to a wide-range of living conditions in a developing country, we grew closer than I would have possibly imagined at the outset of the program.

During our second semester in Georgia, the bonds of friendship strengthened and I found myself spending all of my free time in the company of a German law student, an Irish architect, a Texan nutritionist, a russophile Michigander, a pair of musical Canadians, and others from countless countries and backgrounds.  Only a program such as TLG could bring such a diverse group of people together and bind them in lasting friendship.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and though I remain in Georgia and with TLG, most of my friends have moved on.  But you know what the amazing thing is?  When it comes down to it, none of us has moved on and none of us can move on.  We have shared so many extraordinary experiences together that it’s impossible to move on, try as you might.  And you know what else?  That’s the best part!

My TLG friends are now placed around the globe and in seemingly out-of-reach countries.  We have returned home to the US, to England, to Australia, and to Canada.  We have continued teaching in Hong Kong, in South Korea, in Turkey, in Mexico, in Albania, and in the Czech Republic.  We have begun working and studying in Norway, in Morocco, in Germany, and in Georgia.  We have not lost sight of each other.

We see each other on Skype!

We see each other on 9 hour layovers in Munich

We see each other in the apartment we share!

And we see each other on Vacation!

And so it was that I found myself visiting two chatty, giggly girls in Hong Kong.  As we shared a bottle of Georgian Wine (a Christmas Gift courtesy of President Saakashvili) and reminisced about our adventures in Georgia, I realized fully what an impact TLG had made on my life.  Yes, I began to learn Georgian and saw many of the sights the Caucasian country has to offer.  Yes, I impacted my students with new and exciting teaching methods and my American English.  Yes, I grew more adventurous and independent.  But maybe most significantly and unexpectedly of all, I built friendships that last and created memories with my friends that will never fade or disappear.  Were this the only benefit of being a TLG Volunteer, I would still be forever indebted to the program that introduced me to the people I now count among my best and closest friends.

გაუმარჯოს მეგობრობას!

I have been placed in a small village in Guria called Zemo Natanebi.  My school has roughly 100 students with my classes ranging between 5 and 12 students.  As with all TLG volunteers I only teach 1st-6th grade.  My host family owns a large farm nearby and appear to be affluent given the area we are in.  I have good internet, two (yes two) indoor western toilets and a hot water heater.  The only downside to my situation is that it is difficult to get in and out of the village (also there aren’t any interesting places to walk to, everything is just a street lined by houses).  There are only a couple of marshutkas and they leave town at 9:30 AM and then return from their respective cities at 1:30.  I have only left the town twice in the past month.  The first was to meet my regional representative in Ozurgeti, and the second was to go to Zugdidi to meet up with some fellow TLGers.  My host father was kind enough to drive me out to the main road and pick me up on the Zugdidi trip.  My host mother takes good care of me and is an excellent Georgian cook.  I get khachapuri regularly and she makes amazing bread which is very good with a beef and potato soup she makes.

The school has really tried to make me feel at home in my new job.  My director just married one of my co-teachers and the wedding supra was last night.  Everyone has heard the term feast before, but I’m sure few Americans have truly experienced one.  Yeah we can lay down some food and go buffet style, but last night was a whole ‘nother level.  We arrived and watched the newlyweds come into the house.  The man doesn’t carry the woman across the threshold because they have to stomp on a plate together as they enter the house.  I believe the number of pieces it shatters into is supposed to be the number of years they will happily be together (I counted at least 20 bigger pieces and couldn’t count the smaller shards).  Then everyone went upstairs and individually toasted the couple with champagne.  Then it was time for serious business.  We all grabbed a spot at a table where there was already quite a spread; khachapuri, satsivi, bread, churchkela, a Georgian fruit roll-up (I didn’t catch the name), grits (name unknown), mtsvadi, and more wine than you can shake a stick it.  Also let it be known that Lemonade in Georgia is not American lemonade.  It is a brand of fruit flavored sodas (the pear one is especially good).

But enough about food, what about it made me feel like family?  Well I’m glad you asked.  I was out on the dance floor (it was outside so loose rocks and dirt) dancing with one of my 6th graders when I tried to spin, caught a loose stone with my foot, tried to catch my balance and bumped into the platform the new couple was on and proceeded to fall head first into one of the PA speakers.  I banged my knee up pretty good, got a knot on my head and dirtied up a nice pair of pants and shirt.  Everyone rushed to help me, I followed some people inside the house and my host mother came running in after me.  I got a cold rag for my head and took some kind of pain reliever for the headache.  My mother insisted we go home but I toughed it out for another 45 minutes before the loud music made my head pound worse.  It was good to know I still have a mom here to have my back (no offense to my real mother, and I know you would jump on a plane in a second if I needed it).  I’m very happy to be a part of a family here and not on my own.

I have been placed in Gurjaani, a town that’s, population-wise, somewhere between the the size of my university town (8,000) and of my hometown (20,000). Midsized towns seem to be, socially, the same regardless of geographical location. Everyone here knows everyone else—and everyone else’s business—which is familiar to me. My school is in Gurjaani proper, but I live in Zemo Gurjaani (“Village Gurjaani”), which is about 3 kilometers away from the city center. (…I think. I still have no real concept of how far one km is.) It’s about a half-hour walk from my school to my village, and it’ll be quite nice, I think, to walk home when the snow and ice melts. Gurjaani is located in Kakheti, Georgia’s eastern-most region. Kakheti is renowned for its wine, and in fact, is considered the world’s birthplace of wine. In addition to hectares upon hectares of vineyards, farmers here grow peaches, apples, quinces, dates, figs, and all sorts of other subtropical fruits. We have a persimmon (? I think…) tree in our backyard, which still has edible fruit on its branches, even in February!

My host family has accepted me as their eldest daughter, niece, and cousin, for which I couldn’t be more thankful. I have a 14-year-old sister, who’s just like every other 14-year-old I’ve met (“Boysboysboys! Clothesclothesclothes! etc.”). She’s wonderful, and has made me feel right at home. She speaks good English, and is going to be the best Georgian-English translator in the universe by the end of the year. My host deda (mother) and mama (father) are wonderful as well—while they’ve welcomed me into the family and treat me as their daughter, they’ve also let me keep much of the independence I’m accustomed to. We speak a conglomeration of Georgian, English, and Russian (which I studied in university, thankfully) at home—there’s been more than one occasion in which a single sentence involves all three languages. A typical conversation goes something like this:

Host parent says something in Georgian. If this is received with a blank stare from me, they repeat it in Russian. If I still don’t understand, either the English-Georgian dictionary, English-Russian dictionary, or computer comes out—or we do an elaborate game of charades.

Luckily, these situations have been happening less and less as we begin to understand each others’ respective languages. Instead, we’ve started anglicizing Georgian words and kartulizing (the Georgian word for ‘Georgian’ is ‘kartuli’; I claim artistic license) English quite a bit, which can get amusing. See: “chickenebi,” “Vashli laptop” [‘vashli’ = ‘apple,’ and I have a MacBook], etc.

So yes, I’ve gotten homesick more than once, and there have been mornings that took me every ounce of willpower to get out of bed and face my new Georgian life. I don’t doubt there will be more of those in the coming months. However, I have chosen to remain optimistic. Perhaps it won’t be easy, but I have a feeling this year is going to be worth it, both for me and, I hope, for everyone I encounter.

I’m fairly certain that I’ve never before gone such long periods of time sans bathing.  Greasy hair, grubby hands, and crusty pants used to be a thing of my hitch-hiking summer-vacation days, back when I listened to Reagan Youth and drank lots of cheap wine.  Shucks, even when I was just a baby and couldn’t even wipe myself my mom would occasionally dunk me in the dirty dishwater.

Praise be to the almighty Flying Spaghetti Monster that I live relatively close to the big city, bright lights, and hot showers that are to be found all over Tbilisi.  The FSM works in mysterious ways, and, probably because of my charity work with disabled marsupials, s/he has awarded me with some radtarded friends who rent a flat in Tbilisi.

Not only do they let me sleep in their place and use their shower, but they also provide some scintillating conversation regarding the works of Pauly Shore and which character from the cast of Gilligan’s Island is babe-liest of all.

Some say Mary-ann, others say Ginger, personally I’m totally hot for Gilligan

A place to sleep, hot showers AND friends?  You might be asking yourself how it could get any better.  Well I’ll tell you.  Sunday afternoon?  Hungover?  Cook up a super-gnar breakfast to start the day!

All we need is some cocksauce and we’ll be unstoppable

Now at this point you might be thinking, “Well why doesn’t he quit mooching off his friends and just take a bath like they did in that Wild West movie with Jackie Chan?”  Well, for one, I ain’t no cowboy.  Two, I ain’t livin’ in no sa-loon.  And three, that would mean getting out of my chair, putting on clothes (yes, I sit at my computer nude), finagling some buckets, finding snow that isn’t brown or yellow, filling aforementioned buckets with said snow, hauling buckets back to the stove, melting previously mentioned snow, hauling buckets to the bath, taking off my clothes, pouring snow (now magically transformed into hot water) on myself, scrubbing myself with some sort of soapy bar, and well…you get the idea.  Now why would a FSM-fearing-he-man like myself go to all that work when I can not do all that stuff and just sit here, in my stanky birthday suit, providing you heathens with detailed information surrounding my boring life?  The answer: I don’t know…and it doesn’t matter cause I don’t do all that stuff anyways.

Now not all of you fellow stinkers out there have been blessed as I have by the almighty FSM.  I realize that some of you might be way the shuck out there with no nearby access to hot showers, or no friends, or no friends with showers.  Whatever you’re situation might be, fear not, for I have not just one, but three get-stoked solutions that I will share with you now cause I’m such a swell guy.

1. Imagine it’s the 60’s.

2. Imagine you’re a homeless person with a temporary home (i.e. a recent liberal-arts-major grad sleeping on their parent’s couch).

3. Imagine you’re living post-apocalypse.

It’s amazing how a little imagination can take care of all of your self-conscious personal hygiene issues.

Until next time, take care & stay stinky!

Yes, I knew that Georgia had transformed itself from a society living in fear and (literal) darkness to one of relative freedom and light, where families with young children could walk outside til late at night, on walkways illuminated by working street lights, without worrying about physical assault outside or the discovery of a burglary when they returned home. I knew this from what I learned in TLG’s volunteer orientation and from stories told by my hosts and their neighbors.

But still …. I was surprised to find myself reading a report, not about reforms, but about a true revolution in Georgia. I emphasize these words deliberately. To reform is to effect change to improve an existing system. To revolutionize is to overthrow a system and replace it with something new. What Georgia has accomplished!  Thieves-in-law: Imprisoned or chased out of Georgia (for now). High-level, corrupt officials: Imprisoned or allowed to pay restitution for their freedom. Police: Thousands fired in one fell swoop, replaced with new officers, hired on merit, and trained as professionals. Universities: Sham schools shut down; placement exams overhauled and taken out of the hands of corrupt faculty. Power and water: In most areas in Georgia, predictable access, where the opposite used to be true. Technology and processes: The application of technology and new processes to prevent corruption and to provide better service to Georgians.

The World Bank listed the variables it believed to be key factors in Georgia’s revolution, such as a sense of urgency, an unblinking frontal assault, a clear mission, unconventional methods or approaches, consistency in enforcement, and  strategic communications. What the Saakashvili administration achieved is stunning, really.

But a political truism is “what have you done for me lately“? The talk I hear from Georgians is that maybe the exciting sense of urgency is gone. Maybe the once-revolutionary team has become complacent; interested in settling into power permanently or amassing private fortunes.

As a TLG volunteer, I am proud to be a part of Georgia’s historic evolution. TLG is a good investment for Georgia, not just for the cultural and educational exchange, but for the redistribution of wealth from the government coffers to the local communities via the TLG volunteers’ stipends. TLG volunteers also attract their friends and family to Georgia as tourists, who will spend money here and attract more tourists. (I have two friends coming in April, as a matter of fact.)

Yet I feel impatient for reforms in the public schools. Basic public health amenities such as running water and soap in the school washrooms to prevent the illnesses that rampage through schools, families, and communities, costing untold lari for medical care and hours in lost productivity. A living wage for teachers. Safe school buildings. Concern about the mission creep of mandatori from child protectors to teacher watchers. Where is the sense of urgency for public school reform at the rudimentary level?

Georgia has pushed its way out of the darkness and into the light. I hope it doesn’t falter.

This is how I felt as I got out of the car, grabbed my bags, and glanced nervously at the two faces before me: my new mother and sister for the next 5 months. Despite the fact that suspense had been holding me hostage for the past few weeks–and so strongly for the past few hours!–the warm smilies and friendly kisses quickly subdued my nerves. They grabbed my bags, and we made our way through the front door of the red brick house. The following moments moved all too swiftly to accurately record– the walking up the steps, the steady flow of questions, the opening of the beautiful, white, french doors to my room, setting down my bags, being led downstairs to the kitchen…

But here my memories refresh themselves, and the details come pouring in. The first thing that strikes me is the sharp contrast in temperature between the stairwell and the kitchen/living room. It’s warm in here. Qati, my new little sister, leads me to a chair and sits me down. We start speaking in English, and I immediately learn a lot about her. I’m a little skeptical about her age, though, when she tells me that she’s only 13, as she looks much older. To test this I ask, “Do you work?” Her face contorts to a puzzled look and she replies, “No! I am but a child!”

At this point, my host mother, Irma, brings in the food. A lot of bread, beans, coffee, tea, and wine. She has also prepared a chicken especially for me. Explaining to her that I’m a vegetarian is more heartbreaking for me than for her, I think. I feel so guilty. My host mother doesn’t speak a word of English, and I but two words of Georgian. So Qati translates, and I answer the questions about my family, which food I prefer, how long I’ve been in Georgia. The phone keeps ringing; it seems as if all of Kutaisi knows that I’ve made my arrival. At one point, my host mother says something to Qati in Georgian and gestures to me. Qati turns and says, “How old are you?” I reply, “22.” Qati and her mother discuss this fact and then Qati looks at me again and says, “My mother says that you are a child, and while you are here you will be her daughter.” This sentence wards off all the anxiety that the warm smiles and friendly kisses of earlier hadn’t, and I fall completely in love with my new family, home, and city.

The next few days pass quickly. I am overwhelmed with the feelings of immediate love, friendliness, and hospitality. The idea that Georgians are the most hospitable people on earth is a rumor I’m happy to defend. In order to have a better understanding of my relationship with the school I’ll be working in, I meet with my two co-teachers, director, and regional representative. All four are welcoming, helpful, and eager to answer and questions I have. At the school, all teachers go out of their way to assist me, even walking or driving me to and from school (I have since insisted that they stop). The students, while a little rambunctious, are sweet and starving for my attention. I’ve never felt so well-liked.

The city is old and beautiful. I had the opportunity during the snow days we had to explore its streets and buildings. While it’s not nearly as modern as what I’m used to, the delicacy of its careful architecture and handsome sculptures tell a story of adoration and appreciation for citizen, city, and country. This charm is worth much more than a western toilet.

I’ve only been in Kutaisi for a little over a week, and already I am considering extending my contract and spending the next year here. That’s the impression this place and these people have had on me: that I’ve found a home that’s worth enjoying for awhile.

My first coteacher in Georgia, at the Academy of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, was giving a lesson on coffee last September. I had been in Georgia for only a few weeks, and was finding my caffeine options highly limited – I couldn’t drink Georgian Coke or Pepsi, because they made me nauseous; there appeared to be zero options for espresso-based beverages, like the latte; drip coffee was completely unheard-of – and I had functionally switched to tea as my primary morning kick. Earl Grey has been my favorite tea since before I even drank Earl Grey (thanks to one Jean-Luc Picard, consummate gentleman and Earl Grey enthusiast) and fortunately for me, they have tons of it in Georgia (in fact it’s basically the only flavored tea actually made in Georgia, as far as I can tell).

So this coteacher asks me, “Neal, do you prefer instant coffee or Turkish?” which my brain, cynical, bitter, and overly critical of everything due to 28 years living in New York, immediately translated into “Neal, which undrinkable sludge do you prefer?” I proceeded to explain lattes, cappuccinos, cafe Americano, and cafe au lait, including the proper proportions of milk to foam to espresso (or water, in the case of Americano) and threw in a bit about “latte” and “lait” both meaning “milk” and deriving from the Latin word “lacto,” at which point I realized that I was teaching an Elementary class of cops and lawyers and not training new baristas for a coffee boutique in Park Slope, so I figured I should also throw in a description of drip coffee too.

The point of this sordid tale is that to many Georgians, “Turkish” and “instant” are the two kinds of coffee. In Tbilisi many people know about espresso, but it’s generally something that you get in expensive cafes and I think that those cafes are generally targeted at expats who already have a taste for espresso. But don’t let them fool you into thinking that those are the only options open to you, the intrepid volunteer.

So without further ado, I present the guide to improving your caffeine fix:

1. Instant Coffee

Instant is the easiest option and it’s one everyone will be familiar with. If you’re forced to drink Instant, choosing the right brand can help. Sample different brands to find your preferred taste – I actually kind of like Jacobs, but Davidoff is probably the gold standard. For Davidoff you might have to travel to a city.

If you’re stuck with instant, try brewing it into milk instead of water. Add cinnamon and sugar. Trust me, it’s delicious.

2. Turkish Coffee

Learning how to make Turkish Coffee plays a big role in making Turkish a viable option. Everyone in Georgia basically knows how to make Turkish Coffee, but there may be significant variation between approaches.

A well-made Turkish coffee should have a thick foamy substance floating at the top – generally this will contain coffee grinds, but the less noticeable these are, the better. If that sounds disgusting, try to remember that many of life’s great pleasures are an acquired taste (see: beer). You can drink this foamy substance, wait for it to subside, or blow it out of the way to get to the delicious coffee underneath.

Most people who make bad Turkish put in too much water. Turkish is supposed to be a thick, and about as strong as espresso, so if it tastes really weak or thin that’s the problem. Common wisdom is to heat Turkish on low heat for several minutes (boiling it for a long time causes bad flavors to develop) but I personally find high-heat, quickly made Turkish coffee to be just as good.

Turkish coffee is really good with cardamom. If you’re looking to enhance your Turkish experience, that’s the first thing I’d recommend. Cinnamon, vanilla, and whatever other flavors you like are also viable options, but cardamom is probably the most popular. Don’t use too much – literally, a tiny pinch of cardamom will flavor the whole drink; too much and you’ll only taste the cardamom.

There are tons of different brands and roasts available – of the mass market, widely-available in Georgia brands, I recommend Lebo’s Africa blend, but your mileage may vary. If you happen to fly through Istanbul, pick up some Selamlique at the duty free. Mehmet Efendi is also good.

3. Moka Coffee

Ah, now we’re off the beaten path. A Moka Pot is one of those little Italian-style home “espresso” makers. The coffee is stronger than drip but not a true espresso – but it is delicious. You can buy a Moka Pot at various places in Tbilisi – including the Lavazza outlet store next to School #51, and at the coffee shops near Vagzlis Moedani/Station Square. One will run you around 40 lari.

I use Lavazza Rossa coffee for my Moka – you can buy a can with 250g of coffee for 16 lari and a vacuum-packed bag(same amount) for 10-13. Each can/bag lasts me between two weeks and a month, depending on whether I make one pot a day or two and how hard I pack the grounds.

Making good Moka coffee is pretty easy – fill up the bottom chamber with water, put the filter in, pack the filter with coffee (I tamp it down with a spoon – not too hard, but enough to get it evenly packed), screw the top on, and heat. Generally my best results come from using medium-high heat until the water starts to boil, then lowering the flame a bunch once the steam starts shooting out.

A good pot of Moka coffee is good enough to drink black, no sugar, but if you want to get fancy, you can heat some milk in your Turkish coffee pot, stirring briskly until the milk gets a little foamy and hot, and have yourself a Moka latte.

4. Espresso

By far the most expensive option, the hand-held espresso maker bears mention but is hardly in the spirit of volunteering in Georgia. On the other hand, if you plan on making a go at a life of travel, this could be worth it in the long run. For $100 and up, you can buy a Handpresso or Mypressi handheld espresso machine. These operate with either a hand-pump or a gas cartridge, depending on the model, and take espresso pods, which make the whole process incredibly clean and easy. They produce real espresso and get rave reviews. As far as I know these are not available in Georgia, but you can buy one off Amazon and ship it using USA2Georgia if that’s what it’ll take to get you through a year here. Just make sure you also buy plenty of pods; I don’t know if they’re available here either.

5. Drip Coffee

This is probably another “import” option since I’ve never seen a drip machine for sale in Georgia, but you can certainly buy a European-voltage drip coffee machine from various places (for instance if you have a layover in Warsaw) or get one shipped from the internet.

6. Tea!

Tea is not coffee. However, as I mentioned earlier, sometimes it’s what you’ve got. Tea is actually highly caffeinated and will work to alleviate the physical effects of lacking coffee, if not the psychological ones.

Gurieli is a Georgian brand of tea that is really quite delicious. I recommend you try it at least once before leaving Georgia, if you have any interest in tea at all. It’s available in black, black with bergamot (the aforementioned Earl Grey), and green.

Epilogue: Fresh Ground Coffee

The Turkish, Moka, and Drip preparation methods I mentioned here can be combined with the fresh-ground coffee that is, in fact, available in various places in Georgia. There’s a place in Vake with like thirty different varieties of bean and roast, and they will grind it for you in-store, to your specifications (Turkish, espresso, etc). I’ve also seen less impressive selections elsewhere – at bazaars or other coffee stores.

The point is, if you’re really suffering from the lack of good coffee, don’t despair! Ask around, ask your host family, or drop a comment and ask me!

Here’s a map to the some of the coffee shops near Vagzlis Moedani. There’s a courtyard that has a number of coffee stores, a Dollar Store (worth checking out) and some candy shops as well. The star marks where the courtyard is – it’s easiest to access from Tsereteli (the unmarked street between the star and the stadium).

In the coming weeks, we here at the TLG blog may have some special surprises related to this marketing drive… maybe an insider interview or two… who knows? In the mean time, enjoy sfgate’s coverage.

The event will take place all day long at Tbilisi State University on Saturday, February 11^th.  The theme of the event is best described by the event organizers themselves:

The theme for TEDxTbilisi 2012 is The Long View; a perspective inspired by Tbilisi itself.  Tbilisi, a city with 1500+ years of recorded history, is currently going through a dynamic and exciting time of growth and change. 

New buildings, new shops, new ideas appear – seemingly on a daily basis.  

We wondered: How can one be consistently mindful of the perspective and lessons offered by a long view … when dealing with the immediate and short term day-to-day realities of building a company, a city, a country, a life?

To help find perspective, we set out to create an agenda for the first ever TEDxTbilisi that will perhaps open minds to new ways to find balance, or create links, between the far and the near of both time and place.  

The speakers we sought out are passionate about their ideas, and the topics they will present span a broad spectrum of issues that touch us all – language, arts, medicine, culture, and diplomacy to name just a few.

As we get closer to the day of the event, we will post the final agenda, with speakers and topics.

The wide range of speakers will discuss topics from anthropology to politics to film-making and will include such notable personalities as Katie Melua, the renowned Georgian singer; David Lordkipanidze, the anthropologist who discovered and identified Dmanisi Man (homo georgicus); and our very own Neal Zupancic, Official TLG Blogger and long-time volunteer. (For a full schedule of events, click here)

Neal will be discussing Georgia and the impact of Language Education and the Cultural Exchange between Georgia and the West that TLG has facilitated.  Though the event is closed, you will be able to watch it stream live on the TEDxTbilisi website.  Neal’s talk about TLG and culture will be around 4 pm on Saturday, February 11^th.  If you cannot view the event live, fear not!  A video and transcript of the video will be posted on the TEDx website and on YouTube.

This lecture series will be a fascinating presentation of all sorts of topics relevant to Georgia specifically and I highly recommend tuning in!  I know I will be!

Raughley studied the history of the Caucasus at Georgetown and Stanford Universities and has been with TLG since August 2010.  He currently works as the TLG Social Media Coordinator and spends his precious little free time writing Raughley Goes to Georgia.

So due to Georgia’s unusually snowy and cold winter (part of a plague of snowiness sweeping across Europe, apparently), the Ministry has officially declared that schools will be closed until Monday, February 13th. TLG tells us that at some point classes will be held on Saturdays to make up the missing time.

(As a side note, one thing I notice in all this coverage about Europe’s “deep freeze” is that there is a complete lack of the kind of histrionic and sensationalist coverage that snow always seems to get in America these days – no “Snowmageddon” or “Snowpocalypse” or whatever… just a steadily rising deathtoll going solemnly unmocked. To paraphrase Monty Python, “on second thought, let’s not go to America… it is a very silly place”).

I’m really excited about these snow days because they will give me time to study my Georgian and maybe cook up a pot or two of chili with the cumin I brought back from America.

What will you do with your snowdays?