Saying Farewell

My last full day in Akhalkalaki was Thursday.  I spent the last several days running around, trying to see everyone one last time, saying goodbyes, drinking lots of coffee, eating lots of sweets, and generally being reminded of all of the best aspects of my life in the Peace Corps.  There were, of course, lots of difficult goodbyes to be said as the end approached, but some of the most difficult ones were reserved for that last day.

One of my English teaching counterparts, Gohar, informed me that she had planned a trip for us.  I went to her house at 11am and we piled into a taxi with a friend, Kristina, and enough food to carry us through three days of hiking.  Our destination was the next village over from Akhalkalaki, where we’d meet with another friend, Melania, and then hike out to some old churches. 

You couldn’t have asked for a prettier day, or more perfect weather.  Every now and again, we’d turn a bend and peek out at Akhalkalaki from between the hills.  Each of my senses battled to demand my full attention: the overpowering smells of the earth, the wildflowers, the freshly mowed grass; the spectacular, breathtaking landscapes; the birdsong and babble of the river.  I was too overwhelmed by the moment to focus on my reality, of having to soon say goodbye.  The setting was so enrapturing that I could get lost in each second of the hike, as opposed to being lost in thoughts of leaving. I’ve included some pictures here that do a lousy job of capturing much of the feeling of the day.  

Back from the hike, I went to another counterpart’s house.  Anaida lives near our host family’s house and has frequently had me over, ostensibly to lesson plan, but more realistically to feed me lots and lots of delicious food.  Thursday was no different (except that we were by no means going to be planning for any lessons).  After saying goodbye to Anaida, with heavy heart and full stomach, I headed back home, for one more big meal and many more sad farewells.

Armine made dolma for dinner and Shushan, Marianna’s mother, made a giant, delicious cake.  We sat around the table for hours, eating, being coaxed to eat more, talking, and talking about past and future.  We had a moment where I thought we’d all start crying, but my host grandmother, Emilia, defused the situation by looking up at us all, teary eyed, and saying, “Just think—Melissa won’t be here to buy bread for us in the morning any more.  Who’s going to go to buy the bread?”  The ridiculousness of her focus on that aspect of my leaving made us all laugh, and the crisis was averted. 

I ended up staying up too late on Thursday, checking and rechecking that I’d packed everything up, talking with Armine and Akop and Shaen, and just dealing with the huge amounts of caffeine that I consumed in my last day of being feasted.  Waking up on Friday morning at 5am was, however, easier than I expected.  I guess the nervousness of taking off on the next adventure kept me from sleeping too soundly.  I loaded into my final marshrutka from Akhalkalaki to Tbilisi, rubbing away sleep and trying to keep the tears at bay, and said goodbye to the town that’s become like home.