Shopping the Georgian way.

Be warned.

We live in interesting times apparently, well at least some of us do but I don’t count myself amongst them or at least on the surface anyway. Living in a country that is ‘developing’ and with language skills that are not quite ‘developing’ does I suppose throw up daily challenges that I would normally take in my stride. 

In the past month I’ve totally lost my cool when trying to configure internet banking for the 20^th time and I also failed miserably at buying a pineapple. The banking issues seen very common to all the volunteer teachers here but I’d like one day to click my mouse and have it work, rather than go through the whole routine of activating it each time. 

Buying a pineapple was a pantomime in itself believe me.  I’d not had pineapple here in Georgia and upon seeing one in a grocers shop window I went inside to enquire about the cost. Now, I know what is Georgian for ‘how much’ and I am certain that my intentions were clear that I was interested in purchasing the said fruit, but the lady behind the counter acted as if I had asked her to take her clothes off and dance for me. 

She snatched the pineapple from my hands and told me ‘no’ several times before I produced some notes from my wallet so show that I was keen to pay hard cash. This unusual way of conducting business i.e. paying money for goods in a shop seemed new to this lady and she grew faint at the sight of my two ten Lari notes.  

At this point as is the norm a queue had formed behind me and I’m sure I heard some guy shout down the street to his friends to come and watch the drama unfold. After 10 minutes we had finally come to the understanding that: A) I didn’t speak Russian or much Georgian. B) Nobody in the shop spoke English and C) I wanted to buy the pineapple.  

At last we were getting somewhere and my mouth watered at the thought of juicy pineapple slices. But, oh no the shopkeeper threw me another curve ball by announcing to all in sundry that she was ill and needed to sit down to take stock of the situation. Another lady in the shop threw me an accusing look and helped the shopkeeper to her stool and offered her smelling salts to bring her round. At this point I was edging myself slowly to the door and hoped that nobody would notice but I was spotted in my retreat and handed the pineapple by an old man whose only English words were ‘Manchester United.’ 

I really didn’t want the damn thing by this point and just wanted out so I handed the spiky fruit back to the old man and fled the shop as fast as I could without looking like I was running away.  I walk past the same shop everyday on the way to school and the pineapple still sits pride of place in the window waiting for the next victim to attempt its purchase.

Further down the same road is a barber’s shop that I decided to visit yesterday for a haircut and shave. The young guy who was seeing to me was overjoyed to have a foreign customer and one that spoke his language, in a rough kind of way. Halfway through my haircut he sent out an older colleague to buy some beers for him and I to drink and toast our new found friendship.  This is quite common in Georgia and I’ve heard of many English language teachers here being trapped in shops and bars and being made to drink till they can’t stand up. 

It didn’t quite get as bad as all that but I was forced to drink several toasts then I was invited to bar down the road for a slap up meal. Finally, I was given three litres of homemade wine from the barber’s father ( who randomly turned up) to take back to my family in ‘America’ which made me wonder if they got me confused with somebody else. Either way I wasn’t charged for the haircut or shave, had a free meal and got rather merry.  It’s all in a day’s work here.