You Know You've Been in Georgia Too Long When...

Here is a list of some very appropriate inside jokes from Georgia that I thought might be enjoyable... I was certainly laughing out loud!


You Know You've Been in Georgia Too Long When...


A few shots of chacha don’t even give you a buzz

You’re at an expensive restaurant and don’t even notice the guy at the next table yelling into his cell phone.

You have grown used to the picture quality of pirated DVDs.

You don’t flinch when the taxi driver passes in the oncoming traffic lane while simultaneously lighting a cigarette, talking on his cell phone, and changing gears with his elbow.

You find sit-down toilets uncomfortable.

You think you speak Georgian fluently.

You can’t put a proper sentence together in your native language.

You aren’t aware that one is supposed to pay for software.

A PhD in Nuclear Physics fluent in 7 languages irons your socks for a pittance.

When you go to the toilet you bring your own toilet paper.

The footprints on the toilet seat are your own.

It is no longer surprising that the only decision made at a meeting is the time and venue for the next meeting.

You no longer wonder how someone who earns $400 a month can drive a Mercedes.

You find that it saves time to stand and retrieve your hand luggage while the plane is on final approach.

You throw your trash out the window of your apartment, car or bus.

You would rather SMS someone than actually meet to talk ‘face to face’.

You honk your horn at people because they are in your way as you drive down the sidewalk.

You have figured out that it is actually the Russians who are running this country.

You get your first case of bronchitis and you have never smoked a cigarette in your life.

You have learnt how to detect someone is in a hurry behind you, and now have the ability to not only walk very slowly but also grow eyes in the back of your head, so when they start to overtake on the right hand side, you automatically cut in and walk very slowly directly in front of them.

You are able to jump the queue because the idiot foreigner left 2 centimeters between himself and the person in front of him.

You don’t have to speak to taxi drivers. Every cab in town has taken you home at least once, so they all know where you live.

You buy a round trip air ticket in Georgia.

Other foreigners seem foreign to you.

You consider McDonald’s a treat.

You ask how much people are making and expect people to answer.

You are the last of your first group of friends still in Georgia.

Georgian fashion starts looking hip.

You think Kobuleti is a nice place for a holiday.

The last time you visited your mother, you gave her your business card.

You go back home for a short visit, get in a car and start giving the driver directions in Georgian.

You have to pause and translate your phone number into English before telling it to someone.

You ask fellow foreigners the all-important question “How long have you been here?” in order to be able to properly categorize them.

You buy the local newspaper because you forget that you can’t read Georgian.

You stop enjoying telling newcomers to Georgia “all about Georgia”.

Your family stops asking when you’ll be coming back.

Smoking is one of the dinner courses.

Georgians stop you on the street to ask for directions.

People who haven’t seen you for months don’t ask where you’ve been.

You get homesick for Georgian food when away from Georgia.

Other foreigners give you a funny look when you tell them how long you’ve been here.

The word “salad” first brings to mind mayonnaise.

You don’t notice your gastrointestinal problems anymore.

You have gastrointestinal problems when you go back to your native country.

Your collection of business cards has outgrown your flat.

You speak enough Georgian to make your colleagues laugh their heads off (attempts with anyone else still only draw blank stares).

You start recognizing the Russian songs on the radio and sing along to them with the taxi driver.

You drink the brine from empty pickle jars.

You know more than 20 Tamuna’s, 30 Nino’s and 60 Giorgi’s.

Your sister writes to you about the best prime rib she’s ever had and you can’t remember what it looks or tastes like.

You catch yourself whistling indoors and feel guilty.

You never smile in public when you’re alone.

You are no longer surprised when your taxi driver tells you that in Soviet times he worked as a rocket scientist.

You can only jaywalk across a busy street exactly in places where there is an underpass.

You think Pele coffee tastes good.

You consider holding a supra to celebrate the purchase of a new TV set.

You know what Chavchavadze’s favorite color was.

You are curious as to when they might start exporting Kazbegi beer to your home country.

You speak to other expats in your native language, but forget a few of the simplest words and are forced to throw in some Georgian/Russian ones.

You think that the Trade Center is a real shopping mall.

You specify “no gas” when asking for mineral water.

You think a bus with 200 people on it is “empty”.

You walk down the street holding hands with your buddy.

You know all the words to the Georgian National Anthem and enjoy singing it.

You start believing that you can blend into a large crowd of Georgians.

You answer “ho” even when speaking English to non-Georgian friends.

You consider amoebic dysentery to be a weight loss strategy.

You actually believe that Borjomi water has curative properties.

You think you can get a cheaper fare if the taxi driver doesn’t notice your accent.

You don’t mind eating dinner or showering in complete darkness.

You own a Niva that you bought at the car market for cash, and you think you got ripped off.

You get annoyed if the waiter doesn’t change your plate every 5 minutes.

You get annoyed if the waiter doesn’t take empty bottles off the table within 30 seconds.

You find yourself criticizing Georgian’s khinkali eating technique.

You can’t drink a glass of wine without a toast even when dining alone.

You are not taken aback when a complete stranger at a supra kisses you and professes eternal love.

You find yourself complaining that the tamada’s toasts are too short.

You appoint someone tamada even when dining with foreigners.

You’re disposed to sit in a taxicab for 45 minutes without budging if the driver is unwilling to give you the proper change.