My Life in Georgia: Cow Carpool and Nosy Neighbors

My Life in Georgia:

Cow Carpool and Nosy Neighbors

    Sometimes I wake up in my rickety old village house, surrounded by the singing of birds welcoming spring and immediately wonder "What am I doing here?". Why am I occasionally filled with existential dread? Because I'm a 34 year old American woman mainly living in rural Georgia (the country), with three dogs. At times I feel at war with this decision but mainly I rejoice in it. 

    Typically I get up and take one dog at a time out for a walk, circling around the entire village which takes a grand total of 25 minutes. "Wouldn't walking them all together be more convenient?" one may wonder. It would. However, my band of miscreants have rattled the core of this usually sleepy, geriatric village. On multiple occasions they have slaughtered our neighbors' fowl, and once L.B. and I nearly lost our lives to an infuriated cow during "cow carpool". Now our walks are timed for after the local herder has  made his rounds. 

    Livestock freely roam the streets of this small village of maybe 100 people, which can be endearing when two of your dogs aren't cursed with an extreme bird blood-thirst and a terrible fear of cattle. Dogs are seen more as a utility than the western-idealized "family member" and my mere existence as a female and dog owner has created much confusion. Not solely due to the overwhelming number of dogs in my menagerie, but also on account of my shocking singleness and my exasperating lack of children. 

    After the most recent chicken-slaughter incident (which cost about $10 per chicken), my elderly neighbor advised me with great concern. "You should get rid of those dogs and find a Georgian husband. You need to have children." A laugh and shrug was not the response she was seeking. "It's not my business, of course, but children are better." I answered in all seriousness (because it is true), "But dogs are so much easier and cheaper than children". With a heavy sigh she shook her head and walked away. I had clearly disappointed her by not immediately ditching my furry companions on the side of the road and searching for this prized Georgian husband everyone here continuously recommends I find. 

    I have come to my own conclusions about the validity of the concept of Georgian hospitality. But I do know that the very same neighbor will invite me over for dinner, sharing the last of her mandarines and cheese. She will ply me with dominoes, my favorite game, and explain the latest drama of her Turkish soap opera. When I try to go home, she will ask me "For what?". I can go visit my elderly friend Leyla at any time, and I know I will be greeted with a beaming smile and warm embrace, followed by excessive food and offers of homemade wine, even if I gently combat her generous tributes. 

    Nosy yet hospitable neighbors and renegade livestock aside, life is also slow and natural here. My house is far from immaculate and the downstairs is completely unfinished. Yet there is a large plot of fertile land with walnut and fruit trees, the Caucasus Mountains looming in the distance, where I can practice yoga, picnic and sit in silence and sunshine. A small creek babbles through the front yard and the large terrace overlooks lush, wooded hills. 

    It's as if time doesn't exist here. Working a combination of remote and rotational governess roles allows me to simply be much of the time, a concept concerningly lacking in western culture. 90% of the produce, meat and dairy is local and not destroyed with the obscene amount of fertilizers and chemicals poisoning the food supply of much of the west. Food tastes how it's supposed to taste. I can practice herbalism by simply stepping outside my door. My health as a whole has improved drastically since moving here, both mind and body. So many afflictions I believed were "part of me" or a life sentence turned out to be a consequence of lifestyle, even though I considered myself fairly healthy before. 

    Yes, I get terribly lonely at times. While I came seeking community, I have not found mine here. I instead chose to embrace solitude and use most of the past year and a half as time for personal development, growth and reflection, to great benefit. Living here has also afforded me the time, energy and desire to pursue my dream to launch Allie's Acre. To help share these beautiful aspects of Georgian life through retreats and tours. While it has been immensely challenging at times, I wouldn't trade this experience for anything. Because it has been immensely challenging, it has also been immensely expansive. Yes, life here is peaceful, slow and vastly healthier. And it is in this that I rejoice.