It's Good to be Home

I intended to start a blog when I was pregnant with my daughter, Abigail, and when that didn't happen I planned to start one when I was pregnant with my son, Reese.  They are four and five-years old now, and I still haven't started my blog.

When my husband, two children, and I moved to Amsterdam four months ago, I was convinced that jumping into this amazing adventure would inspire me to start writing.  Living abroad is definitely inspiring, and I've managed to churn out some fiction, if only sentence by sentence.  But I still haven't started a blog, a significant personal goal because a blog could serve as a way to capture the daily life of my children (and for my children), and act as a warm-up exercise for my fiction.

There are many great reasons to start a blog, and many great reasons why it just never seems to happen.  On the surface, the biggest obstacle is finding the time.  But finding time is usually a cover-up for something more foundational that causes one not to prioritize a goal.  For me, perhaps some of the procrastination stems from fear and/or guilt for taking time to myself.  Additionally, the pressure to commence my blog with an appropriate and meaningful launching point (the big event) has swallowed my motivation, my creativity, and my good ideas.  Each time I missed a window to start the blog (birth of my children, first day of school, our arrival in Amsterdam, etc.), I became paralyzed--unsure how to back-track, unsure how to capture all of those past moments and still record the present.  Now that we've been here four months, I fear many of my first impressions in a foreign setting are forever lost.

A new friend, who has an incredible view of life, helped yank me out of this rabbit hole.  A fellow ex-pat, she sent me a link to her blog and simply said, "do it."  I am going to do it.  Sara F., thank you for the push and for our budding friendship!  Be sure to check out her witty and observant blog:  http://portlandsunshine.blogspot.nl/

I still have worries about how to bring it all together (past and present, that is), and indeed this first entry is back-dated to July when my family took a trip to the country of Georgia to visit some dear friends. I could have picked any number of starting points for the very-first-post-ever, and certainly a run-down of how I spent the present week would have been as good as any since I celebrated my birthday this week.  And certainly it's odd that Amsterdam doesn't make a star appearance in this post, even though I think it has scene-stealing appeal.  For it is our trip to Georgia that brought our new city to life for us; in the "going to" and in the "returning from" Georgia we started to consider Amsterdam our home, and come together again as a family following six months of separation.

At Uplistsikhe, an ancient cave city carved out of rock. Over 3,000 years old, it was a major center for pagan worship and later converted for use by Christians. It was also an important stop along the Silk Road.

Someone's home in prehistoric Uplistsikhe.

Here we are in Georgia with our good friends from back home in Bainbridge Island, Washington.

Our families have known each other just about five years now, and our connection was immediate.  Sometimes it feels as if our friendship was destined, given the crazy ways our paths have almost crossed before finally meeting one beautiful spring day on the Island.  Then again, it may simply be the result of one-degree of Ali, but that's a story for another time! 

 

Niko, Abigail and Reese

Our children have known each other since they were babies and, proudly, our two families are god-parents to each others daughters. 

Ali grew up on Bainbridge, and Luka is a native of Georgia. Most summers, they return to Georgia to visit Luka's family and a country that is very dear to them.  We had the unique and special opportunity to visit them in Georgia a few months ago, six weeks after our arrival in Amsterdam. The timing could not have been better. 

By mid-July, we had received our shipment from the States, and we finally had dishes, clothes, toys, photos, etc. We didn't bring much, so these little bits helped our home feel like our home. We had also experienced the first handful of many steps to gaining residency and generally getting acclimated to a new country.  Everything from our Dutch washer-dryer to the grocery store presented a challenge.  We were ready for a break, and joining Ali and Luka provided the most rewarding and fulfilling touch of home we could have ever dreamed of.  Plus, we had the honor and pleasure of getting to know the place where Luka grew up and meeting his lovely family.

Georgia's history can be traced back to prehistoric times.  A unified kingdom of Georgia appeared as early as the 4th century BC.  The kingdom was under Roman rule for nearly a millennium, and then divided for several centuries while under attack from Arab conquerors.

View from the top of Uplistsikhe.

The kingdom of Georgia reached its zenith during the 12th and 13th centuries, at which time it experienced a renaissance of literature, art and cathedral-building. 

Svetitskhoveli Cathedral in the city of Mtskheta. The structure is 11-century, although the site dates back to 4th century. One of the most important churches in Georgian Orthodox history.

Taken at The Monastery of St. Nino at Bodbe.  St. Nino (4th-century female) led the Georgian people in their conversion to Christianity and is buried on the site. The original structure dates back to the 9th century, although it has been significantly remodeled. These little guys look a little too suspicious to be monks!

Stone perimeter of Bodbe Monastery.

Nope, definitely not monks.  Overlooking the village of Sighnaghi.

 

Entrance to Stalin museum.  Quite a period piece.

The history of modern Georgia is dominated by the occupation and legacy of the Soviet Union (I will elaborate later!).

Stalin, himself, was an ethnic Georgian.  A museum dedicated to his life can be found in the town of Gori.

Baby Amelia with a bust of Stalin.

Luka, Abby, Reese and Amelia at a window overlooking the entrance to the museum.

Great album cover!  Stalin's personal Pullman railway carriage in that recognizable green. It was his home while he traveled, including the Yalta and Tehran conferences.

We had the privilege of visiting friends of Luka's parents at their home, a village farmhouse about an hour outside of the capital of Tibilisi.  The Soviet era had enormous impact on their lives, and I was particularly struck my our host's ability to salvage and re-use all kinds of materials to support their working farm.

Sometimes, the old materials had no use but were tossed aside creating beautiful little works of art.

Ali and Amelia

An old Soviet truck, used on the farm until it no longer worked.

Our hosts treated us to a supra, which is a traditional Georgian feast led by a toastmaster. It involves an evening (or morning) of toasts and drinking a LOT of wine (usually white wine) and eating a variety of dishes family style. We would ultimately attend four supras that day!  Lots of fun!!  Here's a link to one blogger's supra experience:  http://thesoulshines.wordpress.com/2013/04/15/how-to-survive-a-supra/

This is the menu of a restaurant we visited in the grape-growing region of Georgia (wine country), which really captured many of the key ingredients for many Georgian dishes.























Georgian meat is often grilled over burning grape vines, which seals in the juices and adds fragrance from the smoke.

Pheasant's Tears Winery

Pheasant's Tears Winery

Pheasant's Tears Winery

Pheasant's Tears Winery

A supra involves telling stories about family and friends, particularly ancestors.  There's an appreciation of one's personal history that too often seems to be lacking in conversations taking place around American dinner tables.  Of course most Georgians, even today, have been touched by conflict with other countries and political powers in a way Americans have not experienced so first-hand.   

With this in mind, it is not surprising that when I sat around the table with Luka's mother and father and their close friends, I witnessed a tight familial bond as well as fierce regional and national pride.  For them, their sense of home goes back many generations; and throughout the various supras, I felt the dizziness and energy of toasting everyone who had touched their lives over the years.  Their daily life seemed so simple compared to my complicated and harried life; while their history seemed so much richer and more deeply understood than my own--as if our worlds were the inverse of each other.  It was an amazing experience, and we are so appreciative for the way they welcomed us into their home and for their generosity.

Abby with Luka's mother

Treehouse Buddies

Luka's father

Homemade khachapuri,a traditional Georgian dish of cheese-filled bread.

Smores, with Nutella!

 

I've only skimmed the surface of what we experienced in Georgia. Ali and Luka were amazing tour guides, and we learned a lot about the history, landscape, politics, economy, and people of this beautiful country.  It's impossible to touch on it all, and in context of the emotional theme of this very-first-post-ever, I wanted to stick close to home, so to speak.  "Home is where the heart is," so the cliche goes.  Well, indeed, it is.  Home is about place, but it's also about people and moments that bring us joy and fulfillment.  If I returned to Georgia today, even after this one brief visit, I would feel those feelings of coming home because I shared the experience with people I love.

We returned to Amsterdam nourished and, above all, it felt like we were coming home.  Of course life isn't a straight line, and we've had good days and bad.  Getting the ball rolling as an ex-pat is tedious. But we've met new friends, and are engaged in regular life (school, activities, etc.) now that the summer's over.  We've celebrated Doug's, Reese's and my birthdays, and we've taken some amazing side trips together as a family.  We are creating a home.

We ended our stay in Georgia with a visit to the capital city of Tbilisi.  Ali told incredible stories of the destruction and upheaval the city endured during the civil war, which took place in varying degrees over the last twenty years.  Again, I was reminded of the definition of home and the different stories we all bring to the table.

Taken from the fortress above the city of Tbilisi.

The lights of Tbilisi.

Artists and their paintings at the art market in Tbilisi.

Traditional Georgian wine jugs at the market in Tbilisi.

Allison arranged for us to enjoy a private viewing of a performance by the national Georgian dance troupe and polyphonic music group, Erisioni, with whom she used to work. Erisioni performs national dances and songs of Georgia. This was a surprising highlight for all of us--very intense and incredible talent.   

Check them out!  http://georgiantreasure.com/eng/#/home

I am captivated by this picture of Abigail and Niko.  It causes me to dream about their futures, makes me wonder where and what they will someday call home.

Oh, the places they will go.

For now, though, I just want to hold them, snuggle them, love them.