Zacho Wants You to Figure Your Shit Out

What do you want out of life?

What lengths are you willing to go in order to achieve it?

            Our families are models for us, whether we want to admit that or not.

As far as I can tell, each member of my family wants something different out of life. My wonderful Mother, with her deep intellect and capacity for understanding, I think she wants to put her spirit in the right place. My rolling stone Father, who puts down countries like the rest of us put down beer bottles, I think he wants insight into the human condition. My dear Sister, tugging along a backpack full of textbooks 7 years out of college, I think she wants enlightenment.

            What am I supposed to do with that?

            I think the most compassionate thing that we can do as human beings is to accept that everybody wants something different out of their 81.4 years. I think we lose that. I think that hurts us.

            As for me, I have no idea. I guess I jump face first into new experiences and hope that something will grab me.

            Currently, it takes me four or five hours to get to civilization, depending on how drunk the marshrutka driver is (they drive faster when they’re plastered).

            That’s the equivalent of driving from Vancouver to Kelowna for wifi. That's like flying from Calgary to Montreal just to sit down when you go to the bathroom.

            Did I find whatever it was that I was looking for? Does putting the mind in seclusion open up the soul?

            I have less than five weeks left and so far, nothing yet.

            Maybe it’s an epiphany that will hit me as soon as I step off the plane and into that fresh B.C. air. Maybe I’ll find it during my next adventure. Maybe I’ll be a bitter old man, cheating another bitter old man at chess, when it will hit me like a sack of Georgian potatoes. Maybe I’ll never find it.

            I guess the point in all of this is that it’s never too late to try and figure it out. Opportunities may pass us, but we can always make new ones. We gotta love those around us, hope for a little love back, and keep on truckin’ till we figure it all out.

            Wow, introspective posts sure make me hungry, what’s for dinner?

            

 Maybe its khachapuri night! One of the national dishes of Georgia, its literally just bread filled with cheese. This is a North American stomach's wet dream...if only it wasn't filled with Georgian cheese...

Oooh maybe we're having khinkali! This is Georgia's other national dish: dumplings filled with spiced meat. The trick is never to eat the little nub at the end, this shows that you aren't an impoverished little girl. No complaints here.

It's still autumn and everybody knows what that means...weird white pumpkin/squash-thing season! They crack these babies open, toss them on the fire, and scoop out their warm innards by hand. Oddly enough, the only thing that Georgians don't put salt on.

What's that? You've put on 10 pounds in 3 months by eating nothing but bread and potatoes? Not getting enough protein in your diet? One of the many benefits of living with a Muslim family is that just when you think you'd strangle Ronald Mcdonald for the chance to lick the grease off of a cheeseburger wrapper, your village slaughters 15 cows in one night!

So far, this has been my favourite dish. Beef (nuggets?) fried up in an unspeakable amount of oil, accompanied by salad that I'm pretty sure host Mom stored in the cupboard for a week.

One week later...I've eaten so much beef that I think I'm starting to go blind. In this incarnation, we have stewed beef, complete will all the bones and gristle you can choke on. For garnish, we have borano! Borano is sharp, oily melted cheese, fried in even more oil and placed in front of your whilst still boiling. It's like fondue...without all of the things that make fondue delicious.

How about some grape juice to wash it all down? My family takes grapes right off of the vine and makes their own (fuck you, food hipsters) and yes...that is an inch of sugar at the bottom of the jar.

 I couldn't eat another bite. What's that? Why are you yelling at me? Oh...you made me cake and Turkish coffee. Well, as an honoured guest in the land of hospitality, surely I can't decline.

Kargad!
- Zacho