Fresh Steps

Monday, August 16th, 2010 - Day 3

Dear Journal,

          As morning classes begin, I sit on the front steps with the others and breath in the city of Kutaisi. A constant breeze uplifts the thick dust, overtaking those who stand in open places. And yet, the air here feels so light - not completely polluted by car fumes and industrial smoke. 

          The people here always stare. They wear the same face wherever we travel as if aged by the throws of being part of such an old country. They seem content. But where is the light in their eyes? No one smiles; no one laughs. I wish I knew about their lives, their stories.

          Surrounded by so many people from all over the world, I've never felt so American, which feels odd never having really claimed this identity. Funny really, I've never heard so many jokes about Americans. I most definitely know nothing about other countries' politics. And like a true American, I still have no interest in learning about them now...

          For the time being, I can't help enjoy myself in this new place, though I could kill for a Starbucks coffee right now. If only I could properly explain this odd setting; this make-shift training center with foam mattresses and rough sheets instead of spring mattresses and soft cotton sheets; this single, raggedy road with empty buildings and a police station marking the end of each lane. I never thought I'd be so glad to get out of the crowded, congested, roads of Macon, Georgia.

But here I am...

xo xo m