This morning I woke up, having slept with the balcony door open all night long. Someone had taken my carefully hung laundry off the line for me and piled it on my desk. I got showered, started to get dressed and felt a pinch in my armpit. Curious, I shook my arm and a wasp fell to the floor.
There’s a wasps nest on the balcony but the wasps have been hibernating (or whatever wasps do in the cold) for several weeks now and this little bugger took advantage of the three days of warm weather we’ve had to come back to life from hibernation and take a nap in my shirt. Luckily I’m not allergic or anything, but still, what a jerk!
Fall has fallen in Tbilisi (is that the opposite of “Spring has Sprung?”) and every day when I walk back home from school I marvel at the beautiful golden trees that now line the streets. From the balcony I often take a few moments to just sit and admire the view and the breeze. Even from our crumbly stairwell I can get glimpses of autumnal glory.
Yesterday, I rode the metro in to town to meet a friend for coffee and adventuring. I got on the metro and across from me a baby sat down with his mother and two of her friends. He was quite the little Benjamin Button, which is to say that he looked really old. Not necessarily wise, but he had an old man’s head. When the doors shut, he burst into tears, as babies are wont to do. I tried to figure out just what was distressing him so.
He didn’t seem to mind the walls speeding by the windows, or the strange people swaying all around him. He had calmed down when we reached the next stop, but the doors opened and he furrowed his brows, anxiously frowning. When the woman announced “Doors closing, next stop: Guramishvili,” his face became more dire. The doors started to shut and the tears sprang from his eyes.
“Ar mindaaaaaa!!!!!” he shouted, frantically flapping his hand in the direction of the doors. It seemed that he was stricken with terror at the idea of automatically closing train. His mother and her friends comforted him between stations and distract him with a pacifier. The tactics would work for a while. When one woman felt the train slowing down she hugged the baby to her chest and covered his eyes. He peeked.
“Deeeedaaaaa!!!! Ar Mindaaaa!” screaming once more. He just could not handle the automatically closing doors. I don’t know if he had never seen such an invention before or it was just the horrifying combination of automatically closing doors and old subways that got to him. Even his mother’s camera couldn’t distract him for long, as he twisted his pacifier anxiously in his mouth.
The baby and his handlers got off a few stops later, still crying (the baby, not the handlers). I was sorry to see my sad friend depart, but not too sorry.
That evening, I met my new friend Carla to go exploring. Exploring with Carla consisted of sitting in a cafe for maybe two or three hours before heading out after dark. We walked to Sameba Cathedral in the dark, across the sketchy bridge over the Mtkhvari River. The bridge is not actually sketchy, it’s a perfectly legitimate vehicle bridge over the river, but Carla was freaking out because there were holes in the sidewalk that led to the river. She was adorably frightened.
I’m running out of focus and ideas. I have some good ideas for future posts, but I just want to finish this one off with a photo of a grasshopper on my balcony. It’s not as cute as kittens or puppies, but grasshoppers can be cute too, right?