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My mom is coming to visit in six days. As a result I thought I would come up with an Marshrtuka for Dummies post so she can be prepared. Keep in mind that the following is all grossly exaggerated for your entertainment purposes (not really, its all totally true, all of these scenarios have actually happened to me and they are actually downplayed, but I can't risk two weeks of mom time and Air conditioned hotels by scaring her off, so shhhh, keep the secret)

To sum it all up, there is no group of people I dislike more than the 15 poor souls with whom I find myself trapped in a cramped marshrutka, listening to Modern Talking's Cheri Cheri Lady while hurtling down a Georgian one lane highway. It's really not personal towards them at all, I just don't understand how they all end up exemplifying my pet peeves to the tee while on the marshrutka and then seem perfectly normal while off of it.

Your best friend is your Ipod. Georgian marshrutka drivers seem to have only been sold one cd or tape ever made, and it all has the same music on it, often bad European pop or overplayed Georgian hits.



Windows. When it is 110 degrees outside, windows and a breeze make a huge difference in your two hours. (ps don't even ask me why they don't use air conditioning, it only proves to me your ignorance about this place!). Anyways, the biggest question is to sit by a window or not to sit by a window? Sitting by the window means you have control. We all like our power don't we? Control means that you are not stuck at the back of the marshrutka, suffocating and smelling all the body odor with no 90 degree breeze to cool you off. Because if you choose to not sit by a window, that is what you are stuck with since the windows inevitably all end up closed, and you not only spend the next two hours smelling your neighbor, but staring daggers and wishing torture upon the person sitting next to the closed window. But, while sitting next to the window means control, it also means that the Laws of Marshrutka Aerodynamics have made it so that you spend the whole two hours much like a dog with his head out the window, but much unhappier about it. Sometimes you have a curtain to provide some refuge from the hurricane force winds, but this can turn on you too, becoming a whip like feature that you have to attempt to hold away from your face and body. So what to do? Well, you close the window, and brave all the people behind you who are now wishing you torture.

Beware sleeping neighbors. This is especially bad when they start to slump towards you. Which is made even worse when you have chosen the window seat, maneuvering a perilous balance of head posture to avoid being whipped in the face by the curtain and getting too close to the snoring man encroaching upon your shoulder.

Drunk men: They really like to talk to you, and ask if you know Georgian "qartuli isit?" But then they like to try out the little bit of English they know on you, but pretty much fail to make coherent sentences. "I...sistah....Canada....one, two, three.....beautiful girls...." and then when he grows frustrated with his English attempts continue to ask "qartuli isit," perplexed by your lack of comprehension of what he thinks he is saying in Georgian and annoyed by you laughing at the situation. I also find that drunk men like to tell you all the random words they know in English, some of my favorites - twelve (no other numbers just twelve), donkey, yoga, and Murphy.

People who ask questions: really, this isn't a pet peeve, but when you want to zone out, answering the same questions over and over again is not what I want to do, especially when they can clearly see that you have headphones in. What I do like though, is when marshrtuka drivers who know me decide to answer for me. She lives in Kakheti, she is from Arizona, she is not married, she knows Georgian, aba ra!, she does not like to drink wine, she likes Mexican food. Yeah, somehow one of the marshrutka drivers in my village knows of my love for Mexican food and has mentioned it twice to people so far. I love this. Another one was asking my sitemate Kamran (the other volunteer in my village) how my American friend Jessie was. Kamran hadn't really met Jessie, so this driver decided he was smarter than the CIA (he told both me and Kamran this), since he knew more about the Americans than an American.

People who want your phone number: We really shouldn't give our numbers out - we get random enough phone calls as it is. (I have gotten some texts from a girl I have never met who wants me to live with her and teach her English....I have no idea how she got my number and my lack of response led to "you pane my heart, i has tears rannin daun my cheaks." and so on) Georgians can be persuasive though and its hard to say no when you know they have the best intentions. so what to do? I have on occasion given out a fake number, hoping to continue a nice conversation but avoid the "you pane my heart" texts to follow later on. The downside to this approach though is that on two occasions, the people have decided to give me a quick call so that I have their numbers in my phone. When the phone on my lap didn't ring...well, it got awkward. oops.

So really, I don't hate marshrutkas. Only when I'm on one, because these sorts of things have turned out to be my favorite stories. Otherwise they are a valuable resource for getting around the country. And they go everywhere - it's not the best way to travel, but you see the country through their windows.