Go Kartli: Being There

We've logged a lot of miles in the past few weeks. In mid-February, I got word that I had been accepted to PhD programs at the University of Chicago and the University of Pennsylvania and invited to visit the departments—at the end of February. A few frenzied phone calls and Kayak searches later, we figured out a a way to make it work. And so we were unexpectedly off to Chicago and Philadelphia for the week.

To me, international travel always carries with it something of the surreal, the more so when a trip comes, as this one did, with little time to plan or prepare. But the chance to see the universities (neither of which I had visited before) and our families (after nearly a year) made it a great trip. Also, Girl Scout cookies.

I got a really good impression of both schools and had a warm welcome at both departments, which doesn't make a difficult decision any easier, but we're planning to have that decision made by the beginning of next week, and the next big step in our lives mapped out.

After only a week in the States, we had to hurry back for our Close of Service conference in Tbilisi. It's hard to believe, but we're less than 4 months out from the official end of our Peace Corps service, and the conference is where we start thinking about all the logistics of leaving—plane tickets and health insurance, saying goodbye and finding jobs, filling out all our paperwork and returning to an America in which everyone has a smartphone.

Peace Corps Georgia, in keeping with its amazing ability to make things nice for us, managed to snag space at the Holiday Inn, one of the nicest hotels in Tbilisi. There are worse ways to transition into Georgia from America than three days in a hotel with waterfall showers, king-sized beds, and Internet-equipped treadmills from the future. And having all the volunteers together, for maybe the last time, was a reminder of how lucky we've been not only to have this experience in Georgia, but to have it with some remarkable people.

Peace Corps Georgia 2010-2012

All this time spent thinking about the future can make it hard to live in the present. Especially for someone like me, whose mind is often drifting six months in the future, a hundred miles away, or 200 million years in the past: the Time of the Dinosaurs!

Peace Corps volunteers, like everyone else, find themselves wishing away time, counting down the hours, shutting out the world around, trying to forget where we are. And this is a good thing; at times, a necessary thing. Everyone needs a recharge and an escape. But in these last few months I want to try to be as present as I can, taking my cue from Montaigne on the value of “living to purpose.” It's hard, dodging angry dogs on the ice-walk home from school, head splitting from trying to yell over the yelling of the kids, to think to store up memories to treasure. I doubt I'll be sitting in my rocker at the Old Folks' Home thinking about how much I miss careering down mountains in a hot minibus too full of people and potatoes, knees to my chest and someone's elbow in my ribs.

But we are here, and it's our life, for now. And it's a remarkable and a blessed life. That being the case, it would be a terrible shame not to live it. We will miss the places, and the experiences, and the people most of all. We still have lots to learn about this country, about our villages and towns, about the people we meet and their own stories. We still have lots of work to do. My aim for the next three or four months will be to try diligently to stay aware of that, of where I am and what I am doing, and what the possibilities are.

After the Close of Service conference, we and some other volunteers headed to the Monastery of David Gareja on the border with Azerbaijan. It is a cave monastery complex established by one of the missionary Syrian Fathers, but quite different in its setting and set-up from the cave monastery of Vardzia. I especially like the caves built into the big slanted rock face.

We walked around the complex and up into the sometimes muddy and icy hills behind, but failed to find the path to the monastery of Udabno, where some 12th-century frescoes are still to be found. But the view from the hilltop was something.

Behind Davit Gareja

That evening, we went to Sighnaghi, an extensively redeveloped town in Kakheti, famous for its wine and a hub for tourists in the summer and fall. It was quiet when we were there, but luckily the Mexican restaurant (possibly the only one in Georgia at the moment) was open. We walked around the town as the sun set, and saw the fires in the fields below as the farmers got ready for the planting season.

Fires in the valley

Sighnaghi has drawn some criticism for having been overly remodeled, but I was really pleased with the look and feel of the town. I don't know what the social effects for the people living there have been, but, as a tourist, you didn't get the feeling of walking through Disneyland, but of being in an old Georgian town, well kept and well cared-for.

The next day, we set off for Bodbe Convent, where St. Nino, one of Georgia's most revered saints, lies. We managed, as usual, to take the long way there, thanks to a sign turned just the wrong way, Wile E. Coyote style. Eventually, after making our way down a mountain on a dirt road, a couple of miles beyond where the convent should have been, we debated turning back. But the memory of missing the frescoes at Davit Gareja was still fresh, and so we pressed on, and at last we came across: A Clue!

A clue!

Using our detective and archaeology skills, we managed to piece the sign together and found our way to St. Nino's Spring (where, thanks to some miscommunication with the nuns, we were almost baptised), and then up to the monastery, where we were able to kneel at last to touch the grave of St. Nino.