cultures - 3/5 - i should log off

How we became Italian, in Georgia

September 15, 2010 By Jillian

It all started with a heavyset, jolly Russian mini-bus driver. Surrounded by minibus drivers the moment we stepped from the taxi, he was the only one of the group going north to Kazbegi. Georgian isn’t an alphabet that we understand, so basically we’re like children, asking 1000 times which direction to go even though we might be standing right next to the sign. As he walked us to his mini-bus he chatted away in Russian and Georgian, which we didn’t understand. Determined to make himself understood he asked if we spoke a number of languages. “Ruske?” he asked hopefully. “Net,” I said. “Georgian?” he tried again. “Net, Espanol,” I said hopefully. “Net.” he replied. “English,” I continued. “Net, Italiano?” he said with a huge smile. Terror struck my heart, I literally haven’t spoken Italian in five years, but before I could protest Danny said “si.” and the man’s face lit up. It turned out that his Italian was just as bad as mine. Through charades and a few Italian phrases we introduced ourselves and our Italian backgrounds.

Thrilled to be with us, he took us to a small bakery stall for breakfast and arranged for us to ride in another mini-bus to Kazbegi IMGP5844 . We were unclear what was going on, and his initial price was double what we were expecting, so we assumed it would be private. As we threw our stuff in the back of his friends shared mini-bus he was no where to be found. Our jolly, friendly and delightful Russian friend had taken our money and ran. Slightly perturbed, you can imagine my surprise when a few minutes later he appeared with small change to give us a refund. Delighted we shook hands several times and the mini-bus took off for the hills.

Kazbegi is the highest mountain in Georgia and we spent our time in the area hiking to a glacier, waterfall and monastery. The scenery was beautiful and although we were only 15km from Russia we never made it all the way to the border, which isn’t probably such a bad thing since we heard occasionally there are still shots fired across the frontier.

On our last day in Kazbegi, walking back from the waterfall near the Russian border, a white mini-bus stopped short on the cliff side road. “Italiani! Amici!” a voice boomed in the sunlight. Squinting to see the man’s face, I realized it was our Russian mini-bus friend from Tbilisi. Offering us a ride back to Tbilisi, we had a difficult time explaining that we already had arranged a ride back. With his passengers anxious to get back on the road, we exchanged phone numbers and went on our way. Standing with his number in my hand, Danny and I laughed, we could hardly communicate face to face, what on earth would we do on the phone?

That night, back in Tbilisi, we had our hotel receptionist call him and explain the situation. He was delighted to hear from us and called again the next day with his own translator. Although we shared only a few words in common, he invited us to his home the next time we were in Tbilisi and wished us luck on our journey.

If You Go: Mashrutka’s (mini buses) run regularly from Tbilisi’s Didube metro station to Kazbegi, expect to pay around 10 GEL for the 2.5-3 hr ride. There is a hotel in Kazbegi but most travelers choose a homestay, which usually includes breakfast and dinner. Expect to pay around 30 GEL per person for a double room, dorms are cheaper, but look first, many homestays cram too many beds into one space. Trekking maps are available at the Mountain House, which also may have accommodation space and helps organize climbing and multi-day trekking trips. Basic food & sundries are available in town, but the selection is limited. There are tons of great day hike and day trip opportunities throughout the area which can be arranged in Kazbegi, ask at your homestay or the hotel. Note that the Russian border is CLOSED to foreigners, only Georgians and Russians may cross. At the time of our visit the area was very safe and quiet, but keep an eye on ongoing problems in bordering Russian states as well as relations between Georgia and Russia.

Watching the World Cup…in Europe

June 29, 2010 By Danny

No matter how exciting March Madness and the NFL playoffs might be, they simply do not compare to the pandemonium that is the World Cup. The only thing that comes close, for us as Americans, would be the summer Olympics when we all check the paper each morning to review the updated medal count. Even still though, the Olympics are diffuse with more sports than anyone can name, different a different sports hero to match each person’s taste. The World Cup is nationalism at an entirely new level.

As we traveled through Germany during the start of the World Cup we watched as all of the people we met prepared and posted their brackets, naturally all showing Germany going all the way. It was the first time, many told us, that they felt they could cheer for Germany and show their national pride….the first time they were allowed to put it on display and be excited together.

When Germany trounced Australia in their first game the honking horns could be heard miles away.

As we’ve continued traveling, the Cup has been in our faces 100%. Walking into Prague’s central square for the first time we could see the Aussie fans holding on for just one win while the rest of the crowd was clearly pulling for Ghana. The next night we didn’t even need to be able to see the enormous screen to know when Brazil scored each of its 3 goals against the Ivory Coast.

When the US lost its fateful match to that same Ghana team, people in Budapest stopped us on the street when they heard our accents to commiserate with us. One British man was getting ready to watch his big game against Germany. His wife was German. One of them was watching in Buda, and the other watching in Pest, they were not watching together. (Yes, Budapest is actually divided in half!) We caught the score as we walked past a giant screen at the entrance to a shopping center, we were going to buy groceries.

We don’t have very many ‘rally round the flag’ events in the US. We are so big and so diverse, we handle most of the competition within our borders. Think of the last time your team (if you come from Florida and have the Miami Hurricanes and Florida Marlins, this is an easy task) was in the race to win and you joked with that guy at work who roots for the Yankees because he doesn’t know any better. A third co-worker was a Boston fan anyway and a fourth didn’t care. Now put all of those people for the same team, with everyone else you know, watching all the games together, in public places with beers in hand. Rooting and cheering and hooting and hollering. Add a few vuvuzela’s and that is World Cup.

Foodie Friday: A taste of Italy in Ethiopia

May 14, 2010 By Jillian

Although the Italians were pushed out of Ethiopia after only a few years, their influence remains in the cuisine and coffee crazed culture of Ethiopia. Nearly every local restaurant or cafe serves pasta, usually spaghetti bolognese or marinara, and certainly every bar has a true ‘Made in Italy’ espresso machine.

That’s not to say that Ethio-Italian is true Italian. Trust me, I lived in Florence, I know real Italian. This is not, it’s distinctly Ethio-Italian, which as you may have guess means berbere spice. Some places the pizza was so heavily ladened with berbere that we had to take breaks for water between bites. Other places had a delicious blend of berbere and tomato sauce that wasn’t exactly Italian, but tasted great none the less.

Ethiopian coffee is world famous, and the Ethiopians have definitely overstepped the Italians in the presentation of coffee. A traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony starts with roasting the coffee beans before preparing and serving the coffee. Having only started to drink coffee in Mexico, Danny was shocked at his first Ethiopian coffee, which resembled a strong espresso rather than the nescafe instant coffee we’ve become accustomed to.

The biggest problem with Ethio-Italian was the carbo-loading that we put our bodies through. At some point we simply lost the ability to eat injera. The locals here eat that spicy mix of meat as many as three times a day and we just couldn’t do it anymore. Pizza and pasta carried us through!

The Ethiopian Way

May 12, 2010 By Danny

Ethiopia is by far the most unique country we have visited thus far. Because it was never conquered (except briefly by Mussolini as part of World War II) it has maintained many of its own traditions in the face of modernity. We may have struggled with the food, with some of the locals, but much of this modern day culture, steeped in ancient tradition, is downright fascinating.

Religion: Ethiopia has it’s own brand of religion, where the practiced Christianity is far older and more closely aligned with the Old Testament. The Emperor’s of Ethiopia are believed to be descendant of King Solomon and so the familiar Star of David (that’s the Jewish Star) is literally everywhere. When walking through the churches of Lalibela the chanting of the priests made me feel as though I was touring parts of the old city of Jerusalem rather than a church. The best part was when I purchased two Stars of David and the men just referred to it as the Axium (an ancient capital city) cross.

Time: This is just downright confusing to Westerners. In Ethiopian time the day begins at 6am on our clock rather than midnight on our clock. That means that the sun rises at 11pm or 23:00. Most buses leave at midnight (6am our time) but you need to be there by 11:30. So basically you need to know that your morning bus is actually 6 hours earlier than the time written on your ticket.. Noontime is 6 and sun sets around 12. The nice thing is that the clock counts up all day long and one you’re used to it, it actually makes things easier as the entire day is AM and the entire night is PM, not that the Ethiopians actually use AM or PM to distinguish, however.

Date: Yup, they do that differently as well. They are 7 years and eight months behind us. It was 2002 the entire time we were there because their new year doesn’t come until September. (Remind anyone of Judaism?) Naturally they use differently named months and as well but the difference between the two calendars is that when the rest of the Western world switched to the Gregorian calendar in 1582, which periodically has been edited by popes for various religious purposes, the Ethiopians stuck with their Coptic (based on an Egyptian system) calendar. This means that there are 12 months of 13 days with a 13th month added every four years without exception. (You might remember we skipped a leap year in the year 2000 meaning my cousin who was born on leap year had to wait 8 years between birthdays.)

Every time we did anything here we did so with a bit of a double take. Never sure if we were right or wrong we always needed to find someone bilingual to ensure we did it right. It was confusing and it was different and that made it all part of the adventure. Having said that, if I see another injera before the 2011 I, well it won’t be pretty.

Being Different

May 4, 2010 By Jillian

“You, You, You, You, You, YOU,” the children shouted at us. Putting their hands out for money it continues-“Faranji, You, Faranji!”

You’ve heard gringo and perhaps even muzungu, but have you ever heard of a Faranji? Faranji is the Amharic (Ethiopian) word for white man, and without a doubt it is the first Amharic word a traveler learns in Ethiopia. Everywhere we go we’re followed by the word, hardly can we take a step without someone screaming faranji at us and shoving an open palm or a small child in our face.

We’ve written a lot on this blog about the world being “same, same, but different,” and often we’re just focused on the similarities. It’s much easier for travelers on a minibus crowded with locals to think that they are “normal” just like the locals instead of the wealthy, western traveler. Let’s face it, if you can take time off of work to travel, well then you are more financially blessed than most of the world and yes, that makes you different. This is probably the most disturbing of all “faranji” fever experiences – the complete feeling of being unwelcomely alien. Although we’ve been in Africa for several months and usually we’re the only white people on a local bus or in a local restaurant, we’ve never felt as alien as we have here in Ethiopia. Generally people are interested in us, but we’ve never been stared at like we are in Ethiopia. Here we are different, and almost every moment we’re reminded of it. Besides the faranji stare, we’ve had children throw things at us, yell and follow us down the street, and almost every single time we purchase something we’re confronted with faranji price.

No matter how hard we try to ignore it, we are different.

There’s really only one way to deal with ”faranji”, “muzungu” or “gringo.” Humor. Entering a local watering hole the other day in Harar we were greeted by the faranji stare. Smiling at everyone as I took a seat, I turned to the man next to me, who was curiously staring, put my hand out and said “faranji”. He belly laughed and told me his name before turning back to his friends, where from what I can tell he recounted our meeting with a big smile and laugh. Offering Danny some of his meal (did I mention it was kitfo– raw meat?), a special gesture of friendship here in Ethiopia, the man laughed and smiled even as Danny politely refused. Shaking our hands in a traditional way that conveys respect as he left, we smiled knowing that although we were faranji’s we were the same in a place that we’ve felt so different.

How we became Italian, in Georgia

Watching the World Cup…in Europe

Foodie Friday: A taste of Italy in Ethiopia

The Ethiopian Way

Being Different

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