Apartment Hunting: Finding Our Own Apartment in the Peace Corps

Apartment Hunting in Georgia as a Peace Corps Volunteer is so different than what I did back in ‘Merica as a corporate professional. If you got some serious dough, you hire a realtor. But for me, apartment hunting in California is somewhere between an art and a science. The science is carefully researching Yelp, Craigslist, and Google mapping every prospective apartment’s distance to your job. The art is trying to judge the apartment and neighborhood by the pictures and reviews alone. Then you check-out the apartments in person.  After the leasing agent gets your ID, you get a tour of the unfurnished apartment, the complex’s facilities, and possibly a furnished model. If you like it, you sign a lease. To Americans, this system makes absolute sense, right? Don’t even bother thinking it is the same system in Georgia.

How does it work in the Peace Corps Georgia? Let me outline the loose steps for ya:

First, you inform the Peace Corps that you would like to move out. They will provide a checklist of the minimum requirements that your apartment needs to meet. For example, the apartment must be pre-furnished with the basics. This isn’t difficult, because all apartments for rent come furnished. Ironically, a fridge is not a requirement for the Peace Corps.

Second, you awkwardly break-up with your host family. You use the “it’s not you, it’s me” cliche, expect Justin and I actually meant it. Our host family was textbook perfect as far as host families go. We moved out because Justin’s commute to school was 45 minutes away. Since we don’t own cars here, walking up hill during the winter will be an extremely unpleasant experience.

Third, you ask your community members if they know any apartments nearby for rent. Within the first few days, my sitemate* and I checked out our first lead that her host mom recommended. The experience was something out of a Three’s Company episode. Once we got there, we saw a “hostel” sign. We assumed that maybe the apartment was behind or next to the hostel. It was not. The apartment was the guy who owns the hostel trying to convince me to rent out a room in the hostel. We both looked at the nice guy and said that we would keep him mind if we have guests from out of town. Next (or as we say in Georgian, shemdegi შემდიგი!)

Next Apartment Please!
Next Apartment Please!

Fourth, you now solicit a friendly Georgian to come to every apartment you want to see. This is to prevent any more language misunderstanding and/or being ripped off. My sitemate’s main counterpart** was nominated as the Designated Apartment Hunting Buddy. The second and third apartments were also suggestions from my sitemate’s host family and other colleagues. The second was a great price point, but there wasn’t any room to cook nor have a place to eat your meal in peace. The third apartment was too expensive and had a sketchy landlord. She reduced the price by over 30% if I would spend an undefined time teaching her young children English. To her, that was a selling point. To me, it sounded like a whole lot of favors for a place I would be paying for. Next.

Not paying rent and providing services for this apartment. Next!
Not paying rent and providing services for this apartment. Next!

Fifth, you now solicit the service of a Makleri (მაკლერი). They are literally the real life Craigslist. You simply go the main park and approach a bunch of bebias (the term for grandmothers in Georgian). Don’t approach just any bebia, you go up to the ones with a notebook and a cell phone from 2005. These bebias know everything you need to know. They know which apartments are available, the earliest move-in date, the price, and the landlords. They are the Georgian version of Google wrapped up in scarves and warm jackets.

These are the Makleris (მაკლერი). They are your apartment finders.
These are the Makleris (მაკლერი). They are your apartment finders.

My sitemate’s counterpart was awesome. She negotiated everything for us with the Makleris. Once we got some leads, we immediately walked to the apartments and checked them out. Apartment number 4 was very promising. However, it got quickly demoted once I discovered there is no heater, chairs, sofa, or table.  My husband was able to join us for apartment number 5, which was just terrible. The kitchen was the size of the pantry and there was literally nothing in there. It also smelled of mold.

Now, I was perplexed what to do. Nothing seemed feasible for the price that I wanted to pay. One of my coworkers suggested an apartment to me, but the price was slightly higher than what I wanted. I didn’t even want to consider looking at it. However, with the options that I saw, my husband and I decided to take a look. My sitemate’s counterpart called up the landlord and we met her at a bakery near my job. The second I saw the landlord, we immediately recognized each other. She goes to the same church I do! What a small world!

It turns out the place wasn’t an apartment after all. It was a Georgian version of a very small townhouse or as Georgians like to call it, an “Italian yard.” As we were waiting for her husband to come with the keys, we started chatting. She asked me if I saw the Pope while he was in Georgia in October. I admitted that I got food poisoning (yet again) and had to forfeit my tickets that I had for weeks. She could tell that I was really upset about the missed opportunity. She proceeds to pull out a rosary out of her purse. She hands it over and says in broken English that she would like me to have it. The Pope had given her this rosary during his visit. “Think of me and the Pope every time you look at it,” she said. What a beautiful moment! I hugged her and was so happy and grateful for such a thoughtful gift. I knew this was a genuine moment and it was touching.

The rosary that my new landlord gave me as a present
The rosary that my new landlord gave me as a present

Once her husband arrived, we all stepped inside the apartment. Justin and I knew that this Italian Yard house was our future home. It had a kitchen, albeit small. It had a big bedroom- and a guest bedroom, gasp! It had a dining room table, but no couches. Even though the bathroom was outdoors, it was attached to the house.

My sitemate’s counterpart translated everything for us. And here comes the final and sixth step: you say you want to move in. Simple as that. No contract needed. The only paperwork we had to fill out was the one for the Peace Corps.

We moved in our apartment about two weeks ago and it has been an interesting ride…more stories to come.

 *Sitemate refers to a Peace Corps Volunteers who lives in the same site as you do (in a village, town, or city). Not every Peace Corps Volunteers is lucky enough to have a sitemate.

 **counterpart is a host country national (in my case, Georgians) that you partner with at your school or organization. This tends to be the main person that you interact with and do projects with. At schools, English volunteers’ counterparts are their fellow Georgian national English Teachers. At Organizations, it can be tricky as you may have a single or multiple counterparts.

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