And the "Beat" goes on...

One of my assailants; I fared considerably better than the tapir.

Well, I was not going to post this event but since I have recieved some encouraging and comforting emails from friends and family, I figured, "Hey! This is a good story" and that's what life is all about...now, let's set the scene.


It is a beautiful fall evening. I had just returned from Poti and got off the bus about 200 meters from my house. Even though it was only 7:30 PM it was already pretty dark. There were your usual friday night characters at the bus stop and as I have walked this route many times, I paid them no mind. Two very drunk youngsters decieded, with all the clarity that an afternoon of drinking vodka provides, that the tall foriegner would be an easy mark. (I now can almost see the thought process "I'm drunk" "me too" "let's do something" "yeah, let's roll that dude" etc.)


So, noisily they staggered upon me. The short one tried to grab my back pack and when I gripped it and turned away he fell down. I pushed the other one and began to run towards my house. Now my softball buddies and some of my former students can attest to my running ability...in a phrase no one will EVER confuse me with Steve Prefontaine! I was caught up to, spun around, and then the oddest thing happened. He hit me, with a rock. "A FUCKING rock!?", I thought. He hit again, and again, and yes, again; becoming more frustrated that this big guy wouldn't go down. During this period, the same thought kept running through my mind, not "run" or "hit him" but just this one thought over and over-- "A FUCKING ROCK??!" I get no respect. Here we are, 21st Century, and I'm not getting held up with a slick glock 9mm, or threatened with a stilleto switchblade, or even some sweet nun-chuks. No, gentle readers, I am only worthy of being bludgeoned with the world's 2nd oldest weapon.


After about the fifth hit, my amygdala decieded to finally get off its ass and get busy. I pushed the guy down and resumed my Bernie Kosar, wounded-giraffe-like running and made it to the safety of my street. Rock boy gave up the chase. Let's pause and think about what teachable moments are here: 1) poor weapon choice--the rock lacked sufficent mass to have the desired effect. 2) poor positioning of the assailant--he was shorter than me meaning he could not bring much force to bear on the target. 3) The target itself..anyone will tell you a Finn's skull is about an 8 or 9 on the Mohs hardness scale. 4) Poor tactics-- attacking a larger, sober target with little or no planning 5) Me being a good Buddhist (not inflicting harm on this poor drunk son of a bitch. 6) Me being a bad Buddhist (not being mindful of my surroundings)


Upon arriving home, I told my family what had happened and the street exploded in activity. My wounds were attended to, and my brother Giga was more angry than I had ever seen him. My "patronis", or protectors have their ears to the ground and if one of these morons ever lets slip that he tried to rob an American, justice will be swift. Peace Corps was called and their response was and continues to be outstanding. The level of community and care that I have experienced should be the envy of America. This has truly been a learning experience on many levels. I have just returned from having my brain scanned and the results indicate that I do indeed have a brain and it is functioning as normally as possible, for me anyway. The final damage report is as follows: 4 lacerations to the head (the "largest" being 2.1 cm. Some blood. A hell of a headache that I still have, and a renewed sense of vigilance for travel in the future. For travel and see and do I MUST!

All the best,

John

Parasites, theivery, and injury. OH MY!

Hey there everybody! Sorry it has been awhile but as ‘the dude’ would say, “new shit has come to light” and it has taken me some time to compose myself before I wrote the following post. Now, I’ve always been a pretty stand up guy…I treasure my friends, realize there is joy and wonder in every day, do my best for mother earth, and honestly, honestly wonder why we all can’t get along. But the last two weeks have made me wonder just how bad things can really get in life.
My last post showed the fun of the grape harvest out in the village of Nosiri, where Zuriko’s parents live. While it is a beautiful and rustic place, it is not without its dangers. About a week after that great day of helping and laughing and really feeling like a part of the family, I began to feel not so right. “How not-so-right?”, you may ask. Well not right in the way that my stomach felt like it was a punching bag for Rocky Balboa. As for the rest of my GI system, decorum prevents me from revealing any further details….not that anyone would want to here about it anyway. YES, I had critters! The big ‘G’: Girardia.
After 4 days or so of feeling horrible, I began to feel…..WORSE! I called the doctor and was sent to the local pharmacy to pick up some antibiotics which I was assured would have me sound as a pound in 2-3 days. Due to the illness, I was forced to cancel my weekend travel plans which meant that I was entering my 22nd day without contact with a native English speaker. I then took a train into Tbilisi to see our crack team of medical professionals to get my cholesterol checked.
Ahhhh Tbilisi, that’s just what I needed. I could get a Guinness, NO wait, the medication I was on meant no drinking. I could get a great meal, NO wait, I had to fast for my cholesterol test. I could see some Americans, NO wait, it was a Monday so there were no other volunteers at the office. Well, at least I could get an awesome hot shower at the hotel instead of the luke-warm gravity fed dribble I have at home, but alas, there was no water as for some unknown reason, service was interrupted. So there I sat in an empty hotel room, sipping tepid water and reading a two-month-old Newsweek…yeah, Tbilisi was just what I needed.
My parasite had cleared up but a nasty side effect of the cure is that the medication is non-discriminatory in its killing power. This means that while it kills harmful bacteria, it also does a huge amount of collateral damage to the beneficial bugs that keep one’s plumbing humming. Long story short, when you’re sick you can’t stop and when you’re cured, you can’t start. Still, I had the coming weekend to look forward to as my good friends Ellen, Paul, and Erik were going to stay at my house Friday night before we went into Kutaisi for the Breast Cancer Walk we had all volunteered to help out with. However, this violated PC travel policy so they did not come to Senaki. It’s OK, I thought, I’ll hang out with them tomorrow and we will have fun. Fun we had, but that evening as I leaned up against the gate of the guesthouse, the immutable laws of physics took over. The gate was not latched and I fell about a meter (down three stairs) and landed squarely on my lower back. After a restless and painful night of sleep, I awoke at 6:30 AM and decided I would retreat to the relative safety of Senaki (at this point I made Job look like Bill Gates), so I headed down to the bus station where my cell phone was stolen out of my backpack pocket. Oh yeah, on the local bus ride to the station, the bus hit a pothole and bounced my head into the overhead bar that I was holding onto. To bring you up to speed if you are keeping score, my back was killing me, I had a lump on my head from the bus incident, and I had just had my only contact with the world stolen from me. The bus ride was uneventful. When I arrived home I called the PC and reported the theft. My host brother Giga was in Poti so I had to struggle to tell Zuriko and Shorena exactly what had happened. On Monday Giga and I spent two hours at the police station giving a statement, my back screaming at me the entire time. Peace Corps is getting me a new phone but I have to pay 40 lari for the replacement and another 5 lari to get my number reactivated. It is Tuesday as I write this and I am awaiting my new phone. Yes, my back is still in a huge amount of pain.
So, there you have it folks, the last two weeks of my life and I gotta tell ya, I’m about fed up. I have been scouring my brain to try to find some silver linings in this Katrina that has been my existence of late, and there are a few that are just enough to keep me going. My buddy Curtis called me from London during my night of frustration in Tbilisi. Those 40 minutes or so talking with an old friend were huge! I did a good deed on the train; helping some German tourists who spoke no Georgian from an angry bebia (old woman) who was yelling at them for supposedly sitting in her seat. They were very nice and we chatted a bit on the ride into Tbilisi. The following night we met for dinner (post fasting) and had a wonderful time. As for everything else, I just try to think that it could have been worse. Instead of my phone, it could have been my wallet and passport that were stolen. Instead of landing on my back, I could have landed on my head and/or neck and been a veggie. And my parasite, according to all who have had other, more malevolent guests, is one of the milder versions of GI distress. A mere annoyance if you will. Funny, autumn has always been my favorite season.
Til next time, all the best.
John