You Know You've Been In Georgia Too Long If...
This has been cirulating a Yahoo Group message board on Georgia. It offers some insight into the country and the expat community. Plus, it's kind of funny.
YOU KNOW YOU'VE BEEN IN GEORGIA TOO LONG IF. . .
The two hardcore communist Peace Corps volunteers you met in your first year here are now heading the World Bank and the IMF.
Your father-in-law is secretly jealous of your mother-in-law's moustache.
You feel more bored than annoyed when some drunken idiot holds a gun to your head at a party.
You can navigate five flights of stairs, find the door to your apartment, and fit the key in the lock in complete darkness.
You find nothing romantic in candle lighting.
You bump into a newly arrived foreign businessman in the pub and decide it might as well be you who rips him off.
You’re disposed to sit in a taxicab for 45 minutes at your destination
without budging if the driver is unwilling to give you the proper change.
Your oldest foreign friends stop bothering to pretend that they're not
working for the CIA.
You’re no longer surprised when a building that looks like a Beirut
crackhouse gives way to a sumptuous apartment inside.
You consider amoebic dysentery to be a weight loss strategy.
You walk down the street holding hands with your buddy.
You are not taken aback when a complete stranger at a supra (dinner party w/ ceremonial toasts) kisses you and
professes eternal love.
You appoint someone tamada (toast master) even when dining with foreigners.
You have grown used to the picture quality of pirated DVDs.
You find sit-down toilets uncomfortable.
You aren't aware that one is supposed to pay for software.
A PhD in Nuclear Physics fluent in 7 languages irons your socks for a
pittance.
When you go to the toilet you bring your own toilet paper.
You no longer wonder how someone who earns $400.00 per month can drive a
Mercedes.
You throw your trash out the window of your apartment, car or bus.
You honk your horn at people because they are in your way as you drive down
the sidewalk.
You have figured out that it is actually the Russians who are running this
country.
You are able to jump the queue because the idiot foreigner left 2
centimeters between himself and the person in front of him.
You consider McDonald's a treat.
Georgian fashion starts looking hip.
The word “salad” first brings to mind mayonnaise.
You don't notice your gastrointestinal problems anymore.
You start recognizing the Russian songs on the radio and sing along to them
with the taxi driver.
You drink the brine from empty pickle jars.
You think a bus with 200 people on it is "empty".
You can think of at least fifteen medical conditions that can be cured by
chacha (100+ proof grain alcohol). Sorting out a blocked ear by pouring chacha into it is my personal
favourite).
Your long-standing girlfriend pecks you on the cheek and you think it's one
of those life-defining moments you will never forget.
Back in your home country, you smugly lecture the policeman on how it only
counts as drunk driving if you're actually swigging behind the wheel, before
giving him a dollar anyway because he looks like a nice guy.
You start learning Georgian because you're anxious that God might not
understand your prayers if they're in a foreign language.
You try to bargain over the price of tomatoes while in a grocery store back
home.
There is a brass plaque with your name on it on the bar at Smugglers.
You turn off your car engine at stoplights to save fuel.
The lady in your local corner shop stops asking when you are going to get
married.
Your wardrobe is shimmering with a million hues of black.
Your weight has doubled despite the near-disappearance of several internal
organs.
YOU KNOW YOU'VE BEEN IN GEORGIA TOO LONG IF. . .
The two hardcore communist Peace Corps volunteers you met in your first year here are now heading the World Bank and the IMF.
Your father-in-law is secretly jealous of your mother-in-law's moustache.
You feel more bored than annoyed when some drunken idiot holds a gun to your head at a party.
You can navigate five flights of stairs, find the door to your apartment, and fit the key in the lock in complete darkness.
You find nothing romantic in candle lighting.
You bump into a newly arrived foreign businessman in the pub and decide it might as well be you who rips him off.
You’re disposed to sit in a taxicab for 45 minutes at your destination
without budging if the driver is unwilling to give you the proper change.
Your oldest foreign friends stop bothering to pretend that they're not
working for the CIA.
You’re no longer surprised when a building that looks like a Beirut
crackhouse gives way to a sumptuous apartment inside.
You consider amoebic dysentery to be a weight loss strategy.
You walk down the street holding hands with your buddy.
You are not taken aback when a complete stranger at a supra (dinner party w/ ceremonial toasts) kisses you and
professes eternal love.
You appoint someone tamada (toast master) even when dining with foreigners.
You have grown used to the picture quality of pirated DVDs.
You find sit-down toilets uncomfortable.
You aren't aware that one is supposed to pay for software.
A PhD in Nuclear Physics fluent in 7 languages irons your socks for a
pittance.
When you go to the toilet you bring your own toilet paper.
You no longer wonder how someone who earns $400.00 per month can drive a
Mercedes.
You throw your trash out the window of your apartment, car or bus.
You honk your horn at people because they are in your way as you drive down
the sidewalk.
You have figured out that it is actually the Russians who are running this
country.
You are able to jump the queue because the idiot foreigner left 2
centimeters between himself and the person in front of him.
You consider McDonald's a treat.
Georgian fashion starts looking hip.
The word “salad” first brings to mind mayonnaise.
You don't notice your gastrointestinal problems anymore.
You start recognizing the Russian songs on the radio and sing along to them
with the taxi driver.
You drink the brine from empty pickle jars.
You think a bus with 200 people on it is "empty".
You can think of at least fifteen medical conditions that can be cured by
chacha (100+ proof grain alcohol). Sorting out a blocked ear by pouring chacha into it is my personal
favourite).
Your long-standing girlfriend pecks you on the cheek and you think it's one
of those life-defining moments you will never forget.
Back in your home country, you smugly lecture the policeman on how it only
counts as drunk driving if you're actually swigging behind the wheel, before
giving him a dollar anyway because he looks like a nice guy.
You start learning Georgian because you're anxious that God might not
understand your prayers if they're in a foreign language.
You try to bargain over the price of tomatoes while in a grocery store back
home.
There is a brass plaque with your name on it on the bar at Smugglers.
You turn off your car engine at stoplights to save fuel.
The lady in your local corner shop stops asking when you are going to get
married.
Your wardrobe is shimmering with a million hues of black.
Your weight has doubled despite the near-disappearance of several internal
organs.
posted by Ryan Nickum at 11:36 AM
3 Comments:
Hey, I had fun to read that, in my 10th year here ;-)
By the way, a while ago I read in some German news magazine, that the DNA of men becomes after a short while of a couple of month very similiar to the typical DNA of the local men of their chosen living place. That sounds unbelievable, but I remember it was one of the more serious papers.
As this changes, our habits are under big pressure too. I never wanted to have a big family, but now enjoy my Georgian wife and three kids ;-)
I mostly hate those kind og Blog jokes, but yours had been in most cases close to my own experiences.
One, I didnt much agree, was the one about Georgian fashion. I always found it superb, and soon started to wonder how careless are dressing Europaens, especially Germans.
Best regards, Hans
You can find the whole list, regularly updated, at GeorgiaWiki.com: http://georgiawiki.com/cgi-bin/wiki.pl?You_Know_You've_Been_In_Georgia_Too_Long_When...
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