Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Why won't you let me run and not eat

9/18 Even though this was only the second time this similar situation had happened to me, I realized that Georgians don’t really get the whole work out/running thing.
                My first experience with this was the day before school started for the semester (9/14).  I had been wanting to visit my school and I was told that it was only 2km away so I decided to run there for my morning jog.  I ran the whole way and was greet by very strange looks when I arrived.  Then all of a sudden I was being beckoned over by strangers.  I figured when in Georgia-I might as well take this risk.  I knew this building was my school but all the unfamiliar faces made me a little unsure.  I slowly walked over and finally saw a familiar face of my aunt and principal.  Relief came over my mind, follow by the thought of “wow this is my school.”  (Both good and bad thoughts can be included with that statement).
                I was quickly given a tour of the school, and then hustled across the street to a shop with three makeshift walls.  As I stood there very sweaty and as a first smelling worse than most European guys, I was handed a box of wafers and was told to eat.  Mind you I still had to run back to my house 2km away.  And the whole point of running that far that day was because I had eaten so much the day before and was feeling weighed down by the ridiculous amount of carbs eaten at each and every meal.  So, through the help of some guys who spoke okay English, I tried to explain that I was willing to carry the wafers back to the house but was not going to eat them at the present moment.  No one really got it though.  Finally, I told everyone I would eat them after dinner, as my desert, and that seemed to satisfy them for the moment.
                Another similar experience happened to me just a few days later.  I as running along, thinking to myself that I really didn’t want to run that day but there was nothing else to do and the countless number of carbs being eaten here re-entered my head.  I was on my way back, only minutes from home when a neighbor flagged me down and started yelling at me.  I turned around and he handed me an over sized handful of grapes.  Again, I was promptly told to eat them at that very moment.  I tried to used key words and some Georgian to explain that I would eat them when I got home (as I was less than a minute away).  He seemed to understand and let me on my way.
                When I got home, grapes in hand, my sister gave me a weird look as if she understood but my aunt was sitting next to her, saw the grapes, and again told me to eat.  I said I wanted to shower and that we could all eat them with dinner.  This seemed to work for the time being.  So later, after my shower, the very same grapes were thrust back in my hand and I was told to eat.  I had a few, just to appease the situation but gave most of them to my host-brother, who is a bottomless pit at 7 years old.

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