მშვიდობა

Lina come back. I’m running down the stairs, grabbing my bag and phone. Morning that's noon, adrenaline rush. Finally I get to go to the shop. Back to civilization, in a small frame. I’m laughing, I’m hugging him one last time from good bye. Minutes before he pulls me into the corner, kissing me passionately, surprising me from the back when I come out the shower, wrapped in a towel. He has packed his things to leave after 24 hours together. Only minutes before my blood was heating up, boiling as he kept talking total nonsense, not wanting to listen, let alone taking my advice even into consideration for how to move around in this country when he has arrived only two days ago. One of these I know it all travelers, becoming more close, instead of open minded in their own head, triggering my allergic reaction immediately. 

Going down, I squat on the floor, laughing telling his plans to her, ready for him to leave. Her mom sitting on the swing smiling. She says: everyone can leave, they all need to go, even me her own daughter but you Lina, she doesn’t want to let you go. Minutes before she asked me in the kitchen if I could tell him to leave as they didn't have space for him. Knowingly smiling I went up in conviction that I did not have to tell him even to leave. I was right. I’m laughing again, squatting on the ground. He’s coming down the stairs smiling. I see you. Lina, Malina. Kissing me once more and again, hugging me tightly, holding me he says he wants to see me again, asking for my plans. It's confusing as it amazes me at the same time again how two people can have such different experiences with one another. Just like in Albania. Getting into contact with people whose world solely evolves around themselves, leaving no space for an intimate human connection. Feeling no closeness, trust or any interpersonal relation to him, as the things he says to me are barely scratching any surface of personal matters. No emotional intimacy, empathy or sensitivity more of a socially acquired repertoire of things to say and how to act, totally detached from what the world around him actually holds. Or whom. Even when he says the things I thought I was missing, I wanted to hear. Compliments, yet they don’t touch me. Like they feel foreign to me. Like they weren't meant for me personally but only more though for himself. Maybe I don’t need to hear them, maybe I actually know them. Giving me yet what I needed on another level, coming all the way up from the coast with his motorcycle to stay for a day and if not anything else still giving me some physical pleasure I’ve been missing for some time. Making an effort to make me feel like he enjoys his time with me. His crystal blue eyes and boyish smile probably having enough girls falling for him. For me I realize I need more than physicality, more than a body. I need deep talks, grounded conversation, someone who’s looking into my eyes willing to get to know me and everything I bring with me in my heart. Which sign are you? The twins right here in the room. Because he experienced the fire my dragon face, he needed to know. Air sign. I think you’re hard headed I say, not a good combination the geminis. I mean what I say as he’s  still holding me smiling. I enjoy that I can have separations without any hard feelings enjoying his kisses and the touch of his hand on my cheek for the moment being.

The last 24 hours bringing some fresh wind into my remote Georgian life. I feel happy and relaxed. New people who came to live with us as well as the great guests from Tbilsi, having us rotating in the kitchen for the biggest feast since my arrival. Another beautiful Supra, creating new friendships and connections. Each day it seems my decision to make this my place the universe is somehow rewarding me, sending me more people to my side. Looking at my phone, I get a message from a friend asking me to come see me in October after my cousin. You make them all come here, my sister is smiling. But not only that. Speaking of our ways all ending up here, talking about what I’ve done before, I receive a message from an old colleague asking me for travel advice. My theme. Involving me in their plans, offering themselves as my trial planning group. I start liking it in all seriousness, for people validating my knowledge and life path from five years until today. They haven’t even realized I was here when they asked for my advice. I must have spread my passion in all molecules across the world for everyone to know. I can tell you’re burning for this country. It’s really touching to hear that. 

This day is bringing me peace. Waking up to the heavy clouds hanging on the mountains, picture perfect from the all the rain last night, the mist hanging in the air, I’m determined to do nothing but have a holiday day. Eating, snacking, hanging, talking to friends and enjoying my peace back in what feels like it’s my place having sent the other ones off. მშვიდობა.

Returning to our peaceful place, I start building towers of food on different plates while her eyes are dropping out of her head. Who is gonna eat all that? You will need all day. I’m laughing at her. Give me 15 minutes, I didn’t have breakfast it’s afternoon. I look at her in all seriousness. She’s shaking her head while they’re cutting the humongous watermelon. Returning with my almost empty plates, I start cleaning while they wipe away the sea of watermelon juice, spilling across the table. We’re chitchatting about the ones who've left, gossiping conspiratorially. 

She interrupts my story of my 24 hour match and says: can I tell you how I felt about him? Of course, I nod my head. Here it comes. He just couldn’t stop talking. It was all about himself and what he knows, no space for nothing, not listening, always in the center. I keep nodding my head as she’s speaking exactly from my experience. He’s not ready. I wanted to say but then it came to me he's 39.. he is not young. I agree and tell her that this was exactly my thoughts. Not ready, center of attention to himself, knowledge only for himself, in no way interested, open or curious about other people’s views, perspectives, knowledge, understandings or experiences. Emotionally unavailable. Taking me to the situation right before he left, pushing my triggers when in no way he would even want to know my opinion or help although he knows he’s staying in a house full of locals and people who may very well know better than him but he’s rather consulting the internet and his own I know it all attitude. Sentences like: I'm here listening for what you have to say because your opinion matters to me or I want you to feel save to express whatever it is you want to express and I will hold space. You can trust me with your thoughts and feelings are nowhere near to find in his active vocabulary. Or a simple. Hey where are you from? How are you feeling? What are your thoughts? Not find spending time near him. No way of connecting to another person. Woman. As there is no space. It makes me question the traveling world. For so many years he’s been out here and still only relying on and caring about his own thoughts. Such a mind trick, closing the mind to everything there is out there in the world. Knowledge, wisdom, experiences, emotions, feelings creating connection, once you let them in. Once you let them be shared. Only then we can actually build bonds and relationships to one another. Still yet for many it seems to be too far away from their own reality. Like they're holding to tight fear, sorrow and hurt in their heart to clear the space to let love in. I feel relieved that her perception was similar. How can two people have such different experiences with one another or… other option, having a similar experience only one person regarded it as polite to pretend that he wanted to see the other one again although he really didn't. Either way, it displays two separate worlds that didn’t connect. 

And so I go to relax after my three plates and.... there I lie for the next three days.  Only half an hour after lying down I start feeling nauseous. A familiar feeling, coming along with aching muscles, bones, shivers and heat waves, a cramping stomach and headaches like someone is hitting a baseball bat on your head.

Food poisoning. It's that time again. Time to rest. My personal must for Georgia. Going through the first night I feel it's not as bad as the ones I’ve had before, gluing me to the cold bathroom floor crying from nausea and stomach pain. When the next day comes I think I will be fine but I feel like someone drained me of all my energy. It's hard to keep my eyes open, I feel dizzy every time I get up and my eye lids are heavy. I must admit to myself that this is not the day to get out of bed. My lovely living mates coming around every now and so often asking if I needed something, bringing medicine, mineral water, asking if they should make tea or cook rice for me. At least I am in the most comfortable place to be knocked out. As the sun comes back they all come standing in my door, asking if I wanna join going to the river, take a cold swim. As I feel like my stomach will be stable for some time I agree, take my bottle and off we go. The fresh water of this unexpectedly beautiful place feels curing and recovering. Only for the minutes I move through the little waterfalls and sit on the rocks. As soon as I leave the water, I feel drained, my battery low. We're leaving but I'm happy for having had a little out of bed time in the jungle.

Returning back, I fall right back on my bed. I'm sure I'll just need some rest and will be fit like a trainer the next day but... Widely mistaken. This is the night. Between 2 and 9am I will nonstop wake up to run to the toilet. You may think at some point that the body is drained but no. Well I am sure as hell physically drained, dizziness taking over me, the world around me turning black for some seconds every time I am getting up. My bones are aching and I feel weak. But there we are, cleansing. This will be it. Once my body is cleared I'm sure it will be fine. Drinking the mineral water and taking the medicine I accept spending another day in bed. Khatia sends me a message: Do you want me to cook rice for you? You didn't eat? Oh hell no. This day is no food day until my stomach keeps quiet. Standing in the door frame she's asking how are you feeling? Better. I say. And I'm not lying. At least you're talking again. She's laughing. Ah seems I haven't even had the capacity to talk before. Next is Igor for the third time today: I made some tea. Do you have enough water to drink? It's nice to feel like having a home when you're sick and you need care. LINA, I hear him yelling from downstairs. My host father. Rogor khar? I love this house. It's the love language of the house to yell a name from wherever you're located. No matter if it's for food, for asking how you are, if you need anything or for any other communicative reason. I will miss this.

And so I spend my third day in bed, slowly feeling my stomach becoming flatter and calmer. I remove the curtain and look at the mountains. The daylight slowly turning golden, the blue full moon from the last night similarly returning like this morning when I woke up before 6am. I can't get enough of the view as the sun is slowly settling behind the mountains, turning into a shade of orange, shining into my face. Magic. Sick with a view. It could be worse. Having a healing surrounding, makes it so much easier to recover. With the sunshine in my heart.

And so  I wake up way too early, extremely tired but determined to overcome my illness. It's not even eight, the house is empty because they left to Turkey and I find myself in the middle of a storm in the kitchen. The leftover mess of what I haven't managed the previous days. Overly ambitious I start cleaning up like there's no tomorrow despite my body sending me signals to have a break. Sweat running down my forehead, dizziness taking over and for a second I get the feeling I need to faint. I slowly breathe in and out, remind myself to take it slow and continue for three hours. A first day that's too active for a food poisoned body, making me want to take rest early. But no not tonight. Once I lie down, I hear voices. Germans. I don't believe it. Visitors who will stay with us for a week. Only minutes later my lovely family returns including another young German woman. Khatia's friend. I go downstairs, wondering how they all appeared out of nowhere in the darkness. The whole family hugging me, her mom says: I rather want you back healthy than cleaning the whole kitchen. Not to mention the laundry. I love them. This night I cannot fall asleep, like I taught my body not to rest anymore I will wake up again and again, fairly tired and disoriented when I wake up at ten, feeling like it's seven in the morning. 

Experimenting around the coffee makers, finding new methods of coffee making I finally manage to make the cappuccino I’ve been missing since leaving. It’s been a long way. A small thing for human kind, a game changer for Lina. 

I take a few more minutes in bed as the kitchen is crowded with people and I need some me time. This day is there to share. New people, wonderful connections, the Georgian language and polyphonic singing in the center. Khatia is so happy about her visit and so am I to exchange how we experience our country of choice. Again taking a break at the beautiful river, after I manage the entire kitchen for lunch for two hours, preparing different meals, I am in the same state as the last days. Exhausted. Like it's only moments I am feeling vivid. It's a mix of being sick, too much activity and little sleep. Especially the different opportunities that the universe doesn't cease to send me. Through my ex-colleague, making me a different offer on how to start going into work around here. Family, friends, business. Connections. I feel this. 

And so another Sunday has broken. Week two has passed, away from civilization like the blink of an eye. Georgian mountain life. A place away from home but home. მშვიდობა.