I've learned that you can pretty much get anything you need in Zestaponi—just as long as you know the right person or place that can provide it.
My TLG friends who have been in the area since last September have the scavenger process down to a science and are pretty good at getting the nonessential items that I'd never even think to look for.
On Wednesday, Julene hosted another dinner party. It was the second one in the past two weeks and the second time I discovered new food outside of Georgian cuisine (not that I hate the food here)
Fajitas aren't exactly fajitas from home. But they are close enough to create a sense of Mexican-ia in a land that doesn't have the word "salsa" in its dictionary.
This week I wised up and got a pair of rain boots at the bazar after realizing my other shoes were likely going to remain sveli (wet) for the rest of the winter without the change.
I'm not sure if I mentioned this before but the weather here is a lot like a washing machine's spin cycle—of shittiness. We had a near hurricane last weekend with gale force winds and power outages across town.
Watch out Pacific Northwest...you may soon lose your copywritten weather charm.
I did eat crow on Thursday as it finally warmed up and the sun peaked its unfamiliar head out for a few hours. My kids at school were relatively cooperative and building was for once not an icebox.
As soon as my marshutka dropped me off at my stop, I knew what I had to do...find my running shorts...and pray to God Lily bebia wasn't home to see me do so.
Georgians seem to have a rule of thumb about seasonal dressing: if it's winter, it's cold and if it's summer, it's warm. There is no, "Oh, it's warm on this particular February day so maybe I'll wear something a bit lighter."
I managed to sneak outside of my flat with little backlash besides a deafening laugh from Goga. I'll take it as a win and chalk it up to my price to pay for a sunny day in the Imeriti region.