Musings on traveling alone

1. Traveling internationally and got an eight hour layover?  Take an alarm clock.   First check out the airport; that should take about 30 minutes most places, and how many ‘duty free’ chocolate/booze places can one visit?  Next find a gate where the chairs do not have arms.  Stake out an end set of chairs, set up your alarm clock and take a snooze.  That should kill another hour; so lay there and pretend and just listen.  No one talks, except the load speaker, so play “guess that sound” as people rustle different sounding newspapers, or “guess the nationality” as the announcements are translated into English.  I’m in the Frankfort airport right now and everyone is being told to ‘conjugate at their gate’.  I don’t think that’s a German to English translation!

2.  Take your sewing machine with you in your carry-on.  When the scanners can’t recognize all the wiring you can relieve their tedium when you unveil your machine.

3. The hardest part of traveling alone is you have to take your roll-on to the bathroom with you.

4. How do you know how to space your meds when you’ve been running around for 48 hours and it’s still Saturday?  Or how do you monitor your caloric intake for the day?  Or do you just say the heck with it?

5. Discovered something new.  Not sure if it is possible in other airports but here my gate is way off the beaten path.  So far off that I came early and am enjoying complete peace; not even any ‘conjugate!’ commands!

holiday lights in Tbilisi

The holiday lights have finally come on.  Each morning and every evening I would expectantly check them out.  Yes, I go to work in the dark and come home in the dark, but hopefully don’t work in the dark.  The lights have finally lit up and what a fairy world the streets have become especially in the morning when there is so little traffic on them.  Above Chavchavadze Street floats large chandeliers while what appear to be enormous lit Christmas ornaments of the Cinderella ilk float above Rushevilli.  Icicles literally drip down above side streets while other streets have poinsettias hanging above them. (There are tubes hanging among the icicle lights that have a slow moving spot of light constantly drifting down.)  The many bridges over the river are outlined in lights, plus one bridge is cover with a complete canopy of lights while several others have small winged chandeliers hanging above.  Other streets have doves and elm leaves suspended above them, or strings of stars.  The only angles I’ve seen are large ‘lawn ornaments’ outside the Parliament building.  Stores do have Christmas trees but they are not traditional to the culture.  The western version of Santa is becoming known here in Tbilisi as there are so many Americans present.  The Georgian Santa is a friendly grandfatherly figure that lives in the mountains.  But they both bring presents to good little boys and girls.  Only the Georgian children have to wait until Jan 7, Epiphany, as Dec 25 is not a major celebrated holiday by the Church.  As I will be back here by the 7^th I will be able to enjoy both, and bring gifts back from the states.

New breed of store clerks

As I take my weekly walk down Chavchavadze towards Freedom Square I pass a jewelry store.  And usually I just pass the window and stare appreciatively at the necklaces.  I ventured in once but the clerk gave me the distinct warning that I was not wealthy enough to afford their wares.  Oh those who don’t understand what blue jean pockets can hold.  So pass by I did until one necklace caught my eye, a cascade of enamel butterflies forming a V with some riding higher than others.  In I went to brave the skepticism of the clerk.  But a man was on duty that day so I ventured to ask the price.  As he leaned into the showcase to read the price tag a very, very business-like pistol protruded from his waistband.   He quoted me 19,000 Lari.  I think he added an extra zero but with his armed advantage I didn’t question, just walked out.  Bought a different necklace at a bazaar.  Running up and down Chavchavadze are little yellow buses called marshrutkas.  These are frightening experiences for foreigners or at least this foreigner and I have never tried one as they are decrepit, crowded and confusing.  But as I partook in my window shopping one day out stepped three black clad armed guards; seriously armed guards, like with sawed off machineguns.  As they approached the jewelry store I thought “What did those Georgian passengers think of standing tightly together with a machinegun pressed against one’s spine”.  But looking at the people in the departing bus no one seemed to have noticed!