Nateli and Gira

I live on a big wide street lined with concrete apartments. One has the impression that it is not very far to the other side of the street, not very far to the next block, or the main artery avenue which runs into central Tbilisi, but in fact everything is built on such an elephantine scale that it takes a long time to walk anywhere in this neighborhood. This was not a construction project on a human scale.

It seems people have compensated by putting up little makeshift shops here and there every other block. In New York City, shops seem to be built into the first floor of buildings, every corner is a shop or a bar... here no shops were planned except on the major avenues (an eight minute walk from my apartment), so people have put up little shacks where they sell cigarrettes, Fanta and CocoCola, old Russian chocolate bars that seem to have survived since Communist times, and 'Mono' cards to put money on your cellphone. Some more upscale shops might have a walk-in area where you can view all kinds of canned goods, sausages, toiletries, and basically anything that doesn't require a refrigerator. Other shops have a gas oven, and one can see two or three hard-working women making cheesebreads, mini-pizzas, bean-breads, potato-breads, meat-breads, all of them similar to calzones. These 'hachipouri' one can buy for between thirty and sixty cents apiece and is the cheapest way to survive in Georgia.

A couple hundred yards from my apartment there is one of these 'hachipouri' stands attached to a walk-in shop. A University is nearby so they get a lot of lunchtime business from the kids. Naturally, I've stopped by there often over the last couple of months to pick up something quick to eat, so they know me a little. Today was special though, because after getting a haircut around the corner and having to put up with four women in their thirties asking me if I had a wife yet, Nateli invited me inside their little hachipouri stall when I stopped by to get a pizza for lunch.

First I was offered coffee and instead of politely refusing as I probably should have, I said 'sure'! They invited me inside to wait for my pizza, and sat me down on a little stool. The place was like a closet, with just enough room for two people to stand and one to sit down. It was warm because of their ovens, so I was happy to have a little break with a coffee. We made all the typical Caucasian conversation gestures first, whereby one gets to know one another: "Where are you from?" "Do you have a wife and kids?" "Do you like Georgia?" "What are you doing here, are you working?"

Nateli has two kids, and her boy is named Joni! Very unusual name in a land of Dato's and Giorgi's (named for the most famous king, David Aghmeshenebeli, and for Saint George, patron warrior saint). Gira also has two kids, and one grand child. She was Armenian I think but has lived here a long time. I told them my usual spiel about "studying Georgian language and church chants, I'm a student from America, my family lives in Vermont which is a small state near Canada and New York State, I like Georgia very much, and I will live here one year." But beyond all that, we were actually able to converse! It was the first time that I felt like I was actually communicating in conversation, though granted I am still a two year old with this grammatical structure. We made jokes and they confided many things that I understood little of except that they seemed like typical complaints about crazy bosses, low pay, that kind of thing. Both of them were in very jovial moods though, we had a great time making up our own language to communicate in.

After awhile we started talking about their business and they confided that though they sell a lot of hachipouri in any given day, they make a pitiful five cents on each one sold because all the profits go to the owner of the shop. They are just workers there. They work all day in this closet cooking food and make between two and three dollars per day. I said, you need a tip jar! I didn't know the word for tips but they don't have tips in Georgia anyway so I had to describe the whole concept to them. They said that kind of thing doesn't really exist, but we decided that the first tip jar in Georgia could be in their little stall, so I put in one lari for each of them (sixty cents) and made their day.

For their part, they said they will be my mothers here, and I'm to come get food from them whenever I'm hungry. So cute! Seeing as my cooking consists mostly of potatoes, sausage, and eggs with bread most of the time, I think I'll be down there more often than not with our new found friendship.