Sunday, December 4, 2011

SMS-es from the ex host mom

My ex host mom's been texting me ever since I moved. A text per day, on average.
Here are some of them:
1) Hi babala.at least what  crimet we. What grieve. Why go there? So to speak implicitly. Sometimes go in a visit.
2) I am sad. Nothing undersand.
3) Heloy Babala,how are you?
4) Hi Babala.How are you.i am sad.for tomorrow bring money?what is the time waiting?
To which I responded: I told you to sms me your banking details. I'll pay you for the time I stayed in your house and for the time you fed me.
5) Ok.soon see
6) I am anything grieve? You want  leave me?
7) Heloy.shi live in sarpi?my vilich gonio.

Thursday Morning, I got a call from the Rep telling me ex mom wants her rent money, she told the rep I'd sent her a text she didn't understand and wants the rep to call me and find out. I wish they'd just forwarded each other the text, figured it out and sent me the banking details but noooooo!
I explained to the rep what I'd said on the text, she also wanted to know how much I was going to pay her. I also told her that the family has Internet, why wouldn't they use google translate? She said it's possible they don't have a bank account that's why she didn't understand what I meant by banking details. I asked her to find out from the host mom either way. Rep called me back and told me the host doesn't have an account and my only other option is to take the money to their house. I was like, 'with all due respect, I'm NOT GOING BACK TO THAT HOUSE! I KNOW SHE HAS A BANK ACCOUNT. SHE'S BEEN TRYING TO GET ME BACK TO THAT HOUSE EVER SINCE I LEFT AND THAT'S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!'. Rep then told me to give her the money at the office and she'll take it to the ex host. Fine by me.

I only have 2 classes on Thursdays. They're in the afternoon. I took the bus straight to the station to buy a ticket to Tbilisi. I didn't have cash with me. Assuming there would be an ATM near the station. For obvious reasons. There were 2. None of them my bank. I just withdrew enough for the ticket.
There was a dude behind the counter, he could've been security, or God-knows-what, he stared at me from the moment I walked in. I heard the lady that was helping me answering questions about all my personal details on the passport to this dude. I was boiling inside, ready to explode. I just wanted to buy a train ticket in peace. Nope! Not gonna happen! Not now, not here! I got my ticket, and was out before you could say GO.

I took a bus back to the city centre. It dropped me off halfway, I had to walk the rest of the way, it was cold and rainy. I was on the phone, when a gypsy approached me. I can't stand them! I don't trust them! I hate that I've to hold on to my valuables when I  See them as if I'm in Joburg CBD. And they like to touch! I've watched them, they don't touch Georgians, they target us foreigners. Sometimes they hang on to your arm or your leg, until you give them money. I'm glad that hasn't happened to me yet. Knock on wood! Anyway, he came toward me, filthy as hell, the hands were sticky and black. He said 'money! Money!' Before I realised it, I'd kicked him in the ass. LITERALLY! Infront of his mom and sister! His mom called him, he ran back to her, and I carried on towards school.

2 classes. Done!

I went to Bank of Georgia to pay for the insurance. I asked the guy at the information desk where the tellers were. Believe me, you would too! That bank's complicated. It's pretty though, I like it. The guy walked me to the tellers and stuck around to chat with his friends while we waited in line hoping for someone to help us asap. He kept one teller off her job, chatting up a storm. Finally my turn, dude walked over to the teller next to the one that was helping me. I heard her reading out all my personal details for the next teller and the random dude that brought me there. I wanted to die! I had to be nice. I needed a favour from her. I asked her if she could fax my deposit slip to the insurance people. I'd given her their business card where they'd written their details in Georgian. She told me she couldn't. I was like, really? Do you not have a fax machine? I asked this looking at the huge fax machine behind her. She told me they didn't. Okay then! I asked if she could call and tell them I've paid. She said she'd love to but she couldn't. Uhm, really? I looked at the phone that was on her desk right in front of me. She said yes, I can't. But if you give me their phone number maybe I can phone them for you. (Go figure!). I told her their number was on the business card in her hand. She asked for my number:
Me: 5 double 7
Teller: 557, and then?
Me: 5 DOUBLE 7!
Teller: 557 and then?
Me: No FIVE DOUBLE SEVEN!
Teller: aah! Five five seven, and then?
Me: NO! IT'S FIVE, SEVEN, SEVEN!
Teller: aaaahhhhh! Five five seven
Me: (imploding) khuthi, svidi, svidi (577)
Teller: aaaahhh! Five seven seven.
She also called the insurance people for me, got me to sign a piece of paper that she FAXED to the insurance people. This is the same person that had told me she couldn't fax nor call the insurance for me because she didn't have a fax and a phone.

I then wandered about trying to find a photo shop for Visa photos. One website said they need 2 photos, the other said 3, I got 3. The guys in the shop were nice, they speak some English. One of them is also a Seaman. He walked me to the library where I was going to chill and use the Internet, to kill time as I was done with Visa arrangements and the train was only leaving at 10:25 pm.

Lo joined me at the library where I met a nice teacher from NY, we exchanged numbers. The library closed at 7. We walked to the bank, it was still open lights were off and they used candles. We decided to find another branch. We just needed an ATM anyway. On our way back from the ATM, a random guy commented about how not white we are.
Off to the pharmacy. 3 ladies were sitting behind the counter. They talked about us the moment we walked in. I know they were, because that's what they do. They giggled like little girls. I thought I'd have some fun with them and take take pictures of them on my blackberry.

Let's see how uncomfortable that would make them.
Lo needed moisturiser. I told her to ask them to recommend something. They gave her some green box. While looking at that, she needed to take something out of her bag. There was a till (cash register) by the door, with a chair behind it. Lo put her bag on the chair and did her thing. The lady almost died! She told her 'ar sheidzleba! (you may not do that!).  She told the chick to relax. I was busy boiling inside myself. I took pictures of her while she was being unreasonable with my fellow black sister.

 I told Lo to leave the bag right there while she shopped further. She was like, 'do you wanna give them a heart attack?' ERRR YEAH! She decided against it.
She didn't want the green boxed moisturiser they have her, as she handed it back to that chick, you should've seen the expression on her face, trying not to make contact with Lo's hand while she took the box back. I could've died! I told her 'let's touch all the stuff in here, and then leave!' She said, no it's ok! I was like, you know what? I can't do this, otherwise I'll end up in prison! I went outside. Not without leaving the door wide open. Just for the fun of it. It was nice and warm in there, I wanted them to come close the door themselves. I can't believe Lo bought something from those people. I'd never spend my money and support that kind of behaviour. Sorry!
We went to a cafe, chilled a little bit. I flirted with a waiter...
Lo approved, Thanks Lo, I knew I could count on you! But I think I'll pass.
 Marshrutka to the station. I tried to figure out which side my compartment was.

 I asked one of the stewards standing outside the train. As she directed me, the guy said something along the lines of this Zangi (nigga) was going to one of his carriages. Ar minda (I don't want...). I got in. There was a Russian lady sitting on the bed beneath mine. She was with 3 guys. They joked around with me. More and more people came over to see the Zangi. I told one of them, that spoke some English not to use that term. He apologised. An older lady that was sitting with us, told him what to say, I'd never heard that term before. I forgot what she said.
The three guys left. Some dude with spectacles came in. She screamed from afar that she spoke English. She made small talk with broken English. Some of the words seemed point blank made up. When I didn't understand him, he started making fun of me. All the guys around us came over and they were hosing themselves with laughter. Good times! I noticed that only the guys were laughing so whatever he was saying must have been really rude and below the belt. It was a stand up comedy show in out carriage. Not just the compartment, the entire carriage! I made my bed and slept in it. Literally :)