Nawria POW!

The Georgian language is a funny, fickle thing: For all of its 33 phonetic characters--most of which sound like pigs being gutted or Coke bottles being cracked open--there is no f sound.  To put this in perspective, there is a qkh sound.  And gh.  And kh and t' and t's.  (Just try whispering sweet nothings in your Georgian beloved's ear with those oratory roses.)  But no f.  So, somewhere in the lines of transliteration, my beautiful Belgian nom de famille became "pho," which my school director pronounces with great gusto as "POW."  As in, "KaPOW!" 

It makes me sound like a superhero.  I think I'm going to legally have it changed when I get home.

How my first name gets butchered, on the other hand, remains a mystery.  Natia is a common name here in Georgia, Nadia is popular in neighboring Turkey and Russia, but Nadya, from my lips to Georgian ears, somehow becomes some amorphous "Nawria."  (Even my school director needs a correction from time to time, and the woman has SEEN it written.  Then again, she thought I was from Costa Rica, so she's got more issues than just pronunciation.)

I was in Batumi over the weekend, enjoying a peaceful picnic of bread, olives, and cookies--mostly cookies, actually, I'm not sure how the bread and olives slipped into the bag--when a little old lady shelling all manner of Junk No One Needs tawdled over for a chat.  Even after she scored 2 lari and 3 cookies from me, she made no motion to leave, so we continued talking, she in a mixture of Russian and Georgian, I in English and Hand Gestures.  Finally she asked my name.

"Nadya," I said, for obvious reasons.

"Nawria!" she replied.  "Me too!  I am Nawria!" 

"Oh, great!" I lied.  "Two Nawrias!" 

You are not a Nawria, I thought to myself.  No one is.  You're just saying that so I buy more stuff from you.  

Finally my namesake went on her way, but not before trying to get me to buy cigarettes, sunflower seeds, and even her jewelry.  I'll never know for sure (or care) what her name really was; perhaps indeed there is a Nawria out there.  Or maybe I heard wrong, and she walked off as bewildered as I sometimes feel, going, "Why did that stupid girl think my name is Nawria?  Hasn't she heard the name 'Nadia' before?"

Well, pholks.  That's it phor me today.  This is Nawria POW, signing oph. 

But first, a few photos from Batumi!:

Where young Georgians come to whisper those gentle words of love to each other.

A beautiful fountain along the Boulevard. 

View of the Black Sea coast from the Batumi Botanical Gardens.