Posts Tagged ‘fleeing love’

A Poet’s Lives with Lyn Coffin

March 9, 2011

 Editor’s Note:  You can get out of breath keeping up with a modern day Poet.

Lyn De-friends Paramour, Flies to the Republic of Georgia

Lyn Coffin Arrives in the Republic of Georgia

“Well, the romance with the Indian Cowboy poet is over, killed or mortally wounded by a casual “chat” reference to a Facebook friend, following which I de-friended most of my non-real Facebook friends.
What do poets do over here at night with a few Lari in their pockets? Reflect on their travels- I have some photos I’ll send you.
I guess what I’d like to say to your readers is this: first of all, it always surprises me how tiring travel is. You go somewhere (an airport) by car, go somewhere (Georgia) by airplane, go somewhere (your new apartment) by car, and you’re suddenly exhausted. I think your body feels the impact of travel through air and time viscerally. The geo-rhythms are out of whack. And there are all the little incidents/struggles to make oneself understood along the way.
Also- My flat here is much like an American apartment, and not like it at all. One thing that is very different is the apartment layout. The key is an old-fashioned “skeleton” key, and you lock/unlock the door four times- With every turn the small bolt inside advances or retracts a little more. When you step inside, you are in a little lobby, a small atelier. The other rooms (bathroom, kitchen, bedroom/living/dining room) open off of this “atelier.” Each room has its own door, and each door can be locked. The kitchen and b/l/d door are made of glass. The bathroom has a very deep, very old bathtub.
When I arrived here, I found my refrigerator stocked with all manner of food- two big hunks of some kind of sausage- I’m a vegetarian except for falling off the wagon occasionally for chicken. Then there was a box of small cakes, a box of candy, a box of cheese- two Huge half wheels of hand-made cheese, a bottle of homemade wine, a slab of butter, a jar of quince/pear preserves (delicious), a jar of small very sweet cherries (which I found out tonight can be eaten to accompany tea), eggs. And outside the refrigerator- a large flat cheese bread whose Georgian name I forget at the moment.
There is plenty of hot water but never enough to fill the tub. The old stove has gas burners, and the knobs must be turned from horizontal to vertical when you want to start the burner, just the opposite of what I’m used to.
I have had some very interesting conversations here. The most interesting was with a 16 year old son of my host, who wants to become a politician specializing in international relations. He told me he thinks all politicians are evil and the only way to fight them is to become evil yourself.
My host’s other son, 11, is a great teller of jokes in English- he told me one where a man was walking across the street against the light, forcing a motorist to slow down in order not to hit him. The driver calls out the window to the pedestrian telling him to raise his hands. The pedestrian asks why. “When I hit and kill you, they’ll be able to get your clothes off easier.”
It seemed very funny at the time.
I love the wit and wisdom one falls into when trying to speak a few words of a new language. My host tonight was complimenting me and said I was “full of light.” Thank you, I said, but- gesturing toward my plate- I think it’s truer to say I’m full of cheese.
I’ve got to get some sleep.
Thanks for writing. Just nudge me from time to time.’If you want to see the newest addition to Tbilisi, you can look up the Tbilisi Peace Bridge, commissioned by the President from Michael da Lucci. It’s quite a sight.”  – Lyn

Photo by Carl Nelson

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