Justin is one of those easy going husbands until he asks for something minor, like, “Hey, since you will be going to Tbilisi, mind getting me some marshmallows?” Then, my life becomes consumed with his little, seemingly simple request. I was visiting another Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) in a city close to Tbilisi, which is about 4 hours away from my site. Since I was making the long trip, Justin wanted to take advantage of the situation since anything remotely American would be in Tbilisi.

Back in ‘Merica, the diversity of our candy ecosystem would put Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory to shame. For a tiny country like Georgia, the candy here is delicious, no doubt about it. But does it include everything an American heart desires from what PCVs are accustomed to? A big, fat, sugarless ‘no.’

So me and my fellow PCV friends kept Justin’s request in mind for the entire weekend. There were two of us visiting our local PCV friend. The other visiting PCV wanted to see if they had vanilla extract. My local friend’s site had a lot more grocery shops than our sites. So we thought it might be nice to check those stores out and possibly save me the scavenger hunt in Tbilisi. Marshmallows in store 1? No- but we did find Soy Sauce (good mental note). But the adventure really starts with Store 2.

Our local friend had originally calculated it would probably take a 10-minute walk from her house. The morning of our departure, the three of us headed with our luggage to Store 2. We literally walked in 98 degrees at noon to get these marshmallows. Was it a brisk ten minutes? No, it wasn’t. It was a sweaty 60-minute walk to the edge of town. My back was killing me because lugging around a laptop and shoes on my back takes its toll. But all is well, because there is a 1 percent chance this place will have marshmallows. I looked at every aisle, but I don’t need to tell you that there were no marshmallows. I can’t remember if my other visiting friend found her vanilla or not, but I do remember that we bought some spices so the trip wasn’t a complete waste.

Marshmallow-less, the three of us walked again in the hot heat to the bus stop to catch a mini-bus to Tbilisi. The walk took another 30 minutes, which is also longer than expected. So at this point, we are getting dehydrated from walking for an hour and half in the hot heat for stupid marshmallows. I called Justin to see if he really needs these marshmallows hoping he would say, “just kidding, you don’t need to buy them.” Instead, I get a polite response of “yes, I would really would like the marshmallows and would appreciate it.” So that means, I got to do another adventure for this American treat.

After lunch, the three of us headed our separate ways. Instead of heading back to my site hours away, I take yet another Marshutka (mini-bus) to Tbilisi Mall and go to Carrefour (a British grocery store that is similar to an American set-up). Forty-minutes later, I’m searching every aisle of a two-story grocery store (the only one in the country). In Georgian, I ask two different employees where the marshmallows are located. They both looked at me like I was the weirdest person and just walked way with confusion and fear. But, I didn’t give up because my husband wants marshmallows! I finally find several generic bags of Marshmallows tucked away on a top shelf collecting dust. I brush off the dust and ask the closest employee if these are the only kind of marshmallows. This third employee didn’t even know the bag I was holding up was for sale at her store. She thought I had it at home and was asking where I could find them at Carrefour and said that they don’t sell these bags. I didn’t even bother explaining that I found them at the store. I walked away and I asked a fourth employee- my favorite interaction by far. This employee looks at the bag and reads the word out loud, “MARSH-MALL-LOW….MARSH-MALL-LOW” because she didn’t think I knew how to read. I cracked a smile and took the bags away as the employee looked very pleased with herself. At this point, Justin is going to have to be okay with these two dusty generic British bags of marshmallows.

By the time I got back on my bus to go home it was 5:30 p.m., which meant I spent 2.5 hours just getting to the mall and back. An hour into the ride back home, it started raining. This is horrible news because aside from the extra traffic and accidents, the bus routes could just stop running. I got back to my site’s main bus stop around 9:40 p.m. and realized that the inter-city buses stopped their routes hours earlier because of the rain! I realized I was stranded in a middle of a storm and in the dark. I really didn’t want to walk the 30 minutes to get home. Instead of blaming the marshmallows for my fate, I found a gentle looking woman to ask her how would I get home. Only understanding 50% of what she was saying, I walked towards a cab with her. Thinking she was simply directing the cab driver for me, she ended up sitting next to me in the cab. I thought, maybe this is my first shared cab ride in Georgia? Turns out, this woman was my guardian angel that day. She dropped me home safely and wouldn’t let me pay for my share of the cab ride. After a long day, I loved that this stranger took kindness (and pity) on the lost and lonely American trying to get back home.

Opening my bedroom door, I handed Justin the marshmallows. He hugged me and said, “Thanks! I’m so glad we can now have s’mores for BUILD Camp!”
Confused, I replied, “Um, so you are telling me I spent HOURS looking for marshmallows so that we can give them AWAY?!”