A Breath of Fresh Air

This delightful 3-page article is probably the best thing I've read since Cafe Rabelais' menu and winelist.

Summer Ends

I live in a shoebox. It is a comfotable shoebox which I have furnished with a chair, a small antique desk, a futon pad on the floor on which I sleep, and a table. My bedroom is more of a storage facility than a place to sleep: boxes are stacked agains the wall and floorspace is sparse. My place is just large enough for one, but a bit cramped for one and a dog. My apartment is an addition onto a house that is yet unoccupied; however, in a matter of days a gaggle of undergraduate girls will take up residence on the other side of my wall. I live next to the football stadium in what is known as the "undergraduate slums." Next door to me live several undergraduate boys and two unruly dogs. Their backyard is decorated with tiki torches and empty bud light cans. The only place to eat within walking distance is a mongolian barbeque where I once ate 4 or 5 years ago. I have not been back since because it made me ill. My office is 14 blocks south, making it too far to walk, but too close to drive to work. Though the neighborhood is quiet now, the kids are trickling in, and I expect mass convergence next weekend. The traffic is bad and broken bottles litter the foot of every other driveway, making walks with Sebastian precarious. And though I am a bit alienated this far north of where I used to live, and though I am struggling a bit with not having Matt around anymore to keep me from working and take me grocery shopping, I think being here will be good for my productivity. This year really needs to be about finishing up the dissertation and that it will be. Right now my sights are set on getting to Amsterdam and joining up with Tyson in St. Petersburg in May.

Tyson left today which for me marks the end of the summer. The summer began in May this year with my trip to Georgia and, appropriately I think, terminated in my friend's 5am departure this morning. Several days ago Todd left for Ohio and then Berlin (for 1, possibly 2 years). With the departures of Tyson and Todd, the end of NAPSS Hendrick's Nights, and leaving the nest at 928 S. Mitchell, I feel like this is a bittersweet new beginning. Strangely, I feel like a stranger in Bloomington. It is probably a good time to leave and I'm excited to take the next step.

From my shoebox, this is Brian. Over and out until our next installment.

Pictures from Nino

Nino sent me the above pictures of our trip to Mtatsminda. Tomorrow I head to NY for the remainder of the summer.

Gori&Mtskheta

Above is a picture of me at Jvari church which overlooks Mtskheta. Below is Khinkali, which is what I eat for almost every meal. It is a large pasta pocket stuffed with spiced meat and meat water. They cost about 20 cents a piece and 6 is sufficient to fill you up.

Blow is Stalin's house where he grew up in Gori. It is surrounded by a monument. Gori is very proud of old Joey.

This is Stalin's private rail car.

This is me with tyson and some girls who attended my talk there. They stuck around for coffee and treats. The talk went well. The venue was a library. As you can see, this library in Gori is no Herman B. Wells library. The ride to Gori was heartstopping. On the way back we were weaving in and out of traffic at speeds sometimes as fast as 160 km/hour. I figured that since it was an Embassy driver, I'd be spared the anarchic experience of Georgian driving. Little did I know, the Embassy's drivers are Georgians.

Next week I am off to Telavi for another talk.

Pictures

Above is the view outside our apartment, below is the view inside our apartment.

A juxtaposition of Georgian church architecture and Soviet residential architecture.

Me and Gypsy-boy just before I gave him a lari.

And back again.

I just got back from Florida. What a long haul. Coming back seemed a bit lonely. I left my canine companion with my brother. I'm trying not to think about it too much. Luckily the pain in my back from sitting for so long is effectively distracting.

We have a place in Tbilisi. What a load off! However, my travel companion was supposed to call me the morning he left, which he did not. He did not answer my phone calls, so I don't know if he is aware that he is supposed to meet the landlord today. Hopefully he received my messages. I'm a bit miffed that he did not call. We agreed that he would call during his layover in Denver just in case anything came through at the last minute, which it did. People are so unreliable. I'd trust this guy with my life, but I wouldn't trust him to take out the garbage. Ironic. Like rain on your wedding day or a free ride when you've already paid.

Make that 14 and a half hours...

and still no word on our apartment in Georgia.