It was beautiful weather the day I left Zurich. The first nice day after a long streak of fog and clouds overhead. During the first leg from Zurich to Istanbul, I was enjoying a nice view of the Alps.
This was my fifth time traveling through Istanbul Sabiha Gökçen International Airport. I felt comfortable. I know where the good restaurants are, where to rest, and how to get to the gates quickly. Perhaps too comfortable. I almost missed my connecting flight because I misread the gate. Thankfully, I heard the last call for my flight and arrived at the gate in time.
I landed in Tbilisi, Georgia, in the middle of the night. Few people choose to go to Georgia during the winter. Yet the arrival hall was packed with travelers from all over the world. One of the reasons I picked Georgia was because I didn't need a passport to enter the country. European citizens can enter the country with just a valid ID card.
During the drive from the airport into the city, I noticed that the streets were lined with flags of Georgia and the European Union. Though the country is geographically located closer to the Middle East, it's pursuing a pro-western policy. This includes aspirations for becoming a member of the European Union. That explains the welcoming conditions for EU citizens and openly visible celebrations of the EU.
The host of my Airbnb apartment was kind enough to let me leave my bags in the house and nap on a couch while the apartment was being cleaned after the previous guest had left.
After a short rest, I got up and went to the city to buy a SIM card for my phone. The service personnel at the branch of Magticom seemed disinterested, almost as if annyoed that I showed up that early in the day in need of a SIM card.
I wondered if I'd see such a reaction more often. And indeed, throughout my stay, I often felt unwelcome in shops, hotels, or restaurants.
Uber is called Bolt in Georgia. Same concept, different name. I took one on the first day from the airport into the city, and one on the last day going back to the airport.
Public transport in Tbilisi is cheap and easily accessible. The buses are small and packed during rush hour, but they run fairly frequently.
I also took the metro a few times. It reminded me of the metro in Prague. The two lines are serviced by the exact same coaches as in Czechia. The same old coaches that can be seen in many former Soviet countries.
My apartment was located in the old town of Tbilisi. Just to the south of the old town is a small hill, which offers a nice view of the city. I went there to see the city from above, and think about what to do next.
While I was standing on the top of the ruins of an old fortress, I noticed a young man next to me. A young man in a flannel shirt, with a fanny pack across his chest. I'm not a person who would start a conversation with a stranger, but something prompted me to ask him an insignificant question, and we started talking.
He turned out to be a US citizen, employed by the US government. Working various civil and military engineering jobs around the world. Teaching, making content for social media campaigns. We talked about Tbilisi and the challenges Georgia faces today. About crime and the global security situation. About cryptocurrencies and programs through which the US invests in peaceful missions.
We spent more than two hours together. He even invited me to lunch to show me one of Georgia's traditional dishes. At the end of lunch, he took the receipt with him. I assume to be reimbursed for that business lunch.
I still can't explain who he really was. But I can't shake the feeling that he was working for a US intelligence agency. He didn't confirm that outright, but there were too many subtle hints in that direction. I think I got my lunch paid for by the CIA.
After two days in Tbilisi, I picked up a rental car and drove to Telavi. Telavi is the main city in the Kakheti province in the north-east of the country. Further to the east lies only Azerbaijan.
The Kakheti province is famous for its winemaking tradition. I wanted to visit one of the many wine cellars or museums to learn more about the tradition. It wasn't the season, however. Few tourists were around, and most wine cellars were closed.
I found one place that looked promising: the Tsinandali Estate, about 10 km from Telavi. The estate is surrounded by a park and houses a winery, restaurant, and museum of Alexander Chavchavadze (a famous Georgian poet, public benefactor, and military figure).
My idea of a museum is that it'll teach me something. Show me history, explain to me an influential or important figure, or educate me about a country or region. I found none of that in the House Museum of Alexander Chavchavadze. The museum consists of a few rooms decorated in the fashion of Alexander Chavchavadze's era. But there is no explanation or elaboration of what's shown. I left the museum not any more educated than when I entered it.
I visited a few more museums in Georgia but eventually gave up because they didn't bring me any value.
I spent the days around December 24 in a small boutique hotel in Telavi. The hotel was almost empty. No one was celebrating.
The Georgian Orthodox Church celebrates Christmas on January 7, in accordance with the Julian calendar. I was told that the celebrations around New Year's Eve are bigger than around Christmas. And that I should be in a big city during that time so that I can experience it firsthand.
I did not particularly like Georgian cheese. Most cheese was white, soft, and often salty or brined. While looking for ways to spend the evening in Telavi, I discovered the Odlisi Cheese Bar. It's a small, private establishment that serves cheese from their own production. And wine, of course.
I was the only guest that evening. This gave me a lot of time to talk with the owner and her three girls who were helping out. I learned that her husband used to live in Switzerland to learn cheesemaking, and brought the skills and techniques back to Georgia. That is probably why I liked the cheese so much. Its consistency, texture, and flavours were more in line with what I’m used to.
My plan after Telavi was to go high into the Caucasus Mountains. I had already booked accomomdation in Stepantsminda, with the plan to stay there for a few days. But the day before I was to drive there, a snowstorm passed over the mountains and made the road impassable. People assured me that the road would eventually be cleared. But I didn't want to wait so long and decided to skip Stepantsminda and continue towards the west.
On my way to Gori, I made a brief stop at Uplistsikhe. It is an ancient town dating back to the Iron Age, built into the rock above the Mt'k'vari river.
The weather was atrocious. It had just started snowing, and the rock was slippery. The wind was blowing so strongly that it almost pushed me over. I also arrived late in the afternoon and only had a few minutes of sunlight. Once the sun had set, it was uncomfortably cold.
Gori is famous for being the birthplace of Joseph Stalin. The Stalin museum and his birth house are prominent sights in the city center.
The city likely has more to offer than just that. But I was not feeling any of it. Maybe it was the eerie atmosphere. Or the brown color of everything around me. Or the fact that it was cold and wet.
On my second day in Gori, I drove to St. George's Church, about 10 minutes outside of the city. The location of the church offered a vantage point over the city and the snow-covered Caucasus Mountains in the back.
To get an even better view, I climbed on top of the walls. Two boys noticed that and, in broken English, tried to caution me not to fall down.
Most of the people I spoke with knew English well enough for me to get what I needed. The Russian language would have been useful to speak, especially in the west, around Batumi. In that region, most people spoke Russian. I assumed it was because Batumi is geographically closer to Russia. But also because young Russians have fled the country in response to the ongoing conflict with Ukraine.
Georgia has their its native language, which is not related to any other spoken or written language in the world. The grammar is supposed to be easy to learn. But Georgia also has its own script, which doesn't make learning the language any easier.
After spending four weeks in the country, I managed to learn only a few letters of their alphabet. Barely enough to understand—still with some help—some road signs.
After Gori, I headed to Vardzia. The distance on the map doesn't look that far. But the looks are deceiving. The road meanders through narrow valleys and is not well maintained in some sections.
On the road, I passed heavy trucks going in both directions. Later, I realized that the road continues to Gyumri in Armenia and is thus one of the main connections between the two countries.
Vardzia is another ancient town that was built into the rock, above the same river as Uplistsikhe. It is larger and more widely known. Despite being remote, it's packed with tourists during the summer season. So much that guides recommend going there early in the day to avoid the crowds.
It was the winter season, though. Only the ticket office was open. I saw one tour bus in the parking lot and no cars other than mine.
Vardzia is vast. Over the many years during which the town was inhabited, the people living there have chiseled countless dwellings, rooms, and chambers into the rock. Even tunnels that go deep into the rock, through caverns, and exit in a completely different section of the rock face.
The only way back from Vardzia was over the same road that I drove in. A few kilometers before the road exits the narrow river valleys, the road passes by Borjomi.
The town is famous for its mineral water springs. One spring is located in Borjomi Central Park, where Indian tourists were filling large jugs with the mineral water.
It was a cold day. The snow on the ground was frozen. And the narrow gorge in which Borjomi Central Park is located was shielding the sun. I walked up to the Borjomi Sulfur Pools a few kilometers into the gorge. Nobody was bathing in the warm water. It was too early in the day for that.
I took the cable car to the top of the east face of the gorge. The cabin wasn't providing me with any sense of security. The gap between the cabin door and frame was a couple centimeters. Almost enough to put a hand through.
By now, I had given up on Stepantsminda. But I still wanted to drive into the Caucasus Mountains to see them in winter. There was another location, in the western part of the Caucasus Mountains, that came with positive reviews. The city of Mestia, within the Svaneti region in the north-west was my next destination. The distance was too far to cover in one day, though. I wanted to leave enough time to stop along the way and explore the country.
On a recommendation from fellow travelers I met along the way, I put Tskaltubo on my to-visit list. Tskaltubo is a spa resort that was popular in the Soviet era. During that time, many sanatoriums and hotels were built. After the dissolution of the Soviet Union, visitor numbers dwindled. Today, the town is famous for its abandoned buildings. Many of these buildings are freely accessible and provide opportunities for urban exploration. Though some have been bought by investors and are now fenced off.
I decided to stay the night in Kutaisi, the capital of the region, and explore Tskaltubo the next day. I arrived in Kutaisi just in time to check into the hotel and walk up to Bagrati Cathedral. Its location on a small hill provides a great vantage point. I saw dozens of people walking through the park around the cathedral. Some have found a place on the walls and sat down to watch the sunset.
I gave myself the whole next day to explore Tskaltubo. It was difficult to find access to the buildings. There are no road signs pointing to them. Most access roads have been overgrown with vegetation. Using satellite images helped me a lot to find my way around the city.
After the 2008 Russo-Georgian war, Russian troops occupied Abkhazia and South Ossetia. Georgian refugees from these regions have had to seek a new home in what remained of Georgia. Some have found shelter in the abandoned buildings of Tskaltubo and have been living in them ever since. I was careful when entering buildings to not walk into parts that someone calls home.
Most buildings were empty. Only the better-preserved ones were still being used as homes.
In one of the more derelict buildings, I found a sign encouraging social distancing. The sign had to have been put there after 2020, when the COVID-19 pandemic started. I couldn’t imagine that somebody lived in that building as recently as that, as it was in very bad shape. But it’s hard to judge how fast things start to deteriorate once they fall into disuse.
I was walking past one of the buildings that were clearly inhabited. Intact windows and doors and clothes hung outside to dry were the obvious signs. As were the three gentleman sitting on a bench in front of the entrance.
They must be used to tourists walking past their home. Tourists who have cameras hung from their shoulder straps, in search of interesting motives to capture, preserving the impressions for posterity. They didn’t hesitate to invite me for a drink. Four plastic cups were hastily filled with beer from a 2L PET bottle and distributed amongst us. I was not allowed to leave until we emptied the bottle.
Communication was difficult. After a while, I was able to explain that I came from Switzerland. One of the gentlemen picked that up and started talking about Goethe, the famous German writer from the 17th century. I figured he was an educated person. Maybe teacher? Forced to leave their home land 30 years ago and have lived in this makeshift home ever since.
I was not able to enter all the buildings. One particularly well-preserved one was fenced off, with guards patrolling out and inside. When I approached another one, a woman demanded money before I could enter. I respectfully declined and continued to the next one.
Near Tskaltubo are three more popular attractions: Prometheus Cave, Sataplia Viewpoint, and Okatse Canyon. Reviews of these places were all mostly negative. And after my experience with the museum near Telavi, I concluded that it’s not worth it.
I spent another night in Kutaisi. The next day was December 31. My plan was to drive to Mestia and celebrate New Year’s Eve in the mountains. On my way there, I made another stop at Tskaltubo. One day was not enough to explore all the ruins.
I took a road that followed the southern outskirts of the Causaus Mountains. The pavement was surprisingly good in this remote region. I even saw fiber cables strung along the road. It seemed as if the government had just heavily invested in that region‘s infrastructure.
In Jvari, I rejoined the main road to Mestia. From there, the road continued along the shores of a reservoir. The narrow valley blocked the sun and trapped cold air. The road was icy. I had to drive carefully.
Just before the confluence of the Patara Enguri and Nenskrs rivers, the traffic suddenly stopped. Dozens of cars in front of me were standing still. The police were blocking the road and turning cars around. The sun was just about to set. Not much daylight was left.
The police didn’t share much information. Through conversations with fellow motorists, I managed to pick up that the road is blocked just around the corner ahead of us. A huge boulder had just fallen into the road, making it impassable in both directions.
Some cars turned around to drive down the valley, back to Jarvi. But a surprising number of cars stayed put. After talking with a few locals, I learned what the plan was. A construction crew was to arrive, drill holes into the boulder, and blow it into pieces. I was skeptical at first. After all, it was New Year's Eve. But a truck with a jackhammer in tow arrived shortly, followed by heavy excavation equipment. They immediately started working.
It was New Year’s Eve, and I was stuck on a road in the middle of a remote valley. I had given up hope of reaching Mestia in time and instead joined the spontaneous celebrations that were happening in the middle of the road.
It was well past midnight. I had fallen asleep in the car a few times, only to be woken up every now and then by the cold. A large explosion reverberated through the valley. Huge excavators rushed in to clear the debris from the road. It took another couple hours until they managed to make a narrow opening, barely enough for a car.
The drivers were anxious to continue their journey. We were all racing up the valley. Over snow and ice, being careful not to slip but still fast enough to not get stuck on the icy inclines. Driving demanded all my focus. I was exhausted after the long day, but the prospect of finally reaching Mestia gave me the strength to stay awake.
I arrived at my accommodation around 6 in the morning. Luckily, the host was nice enough to leave the door open so I could check into my room and get some rest.
I didn’t sleep much. The day was forecast to be really nice, and I did not want to miss it.
One of my ideas was to go snowshoeing in Georgia. I didn’t bring any equipment with me. I knew I could rent it at the location. It was not necessary, though. The trails around Mestia were frequented enough that I didn’t need any snowshoes.
I picked a trail that climbed the north valley face up to a cross high above Mestia. The view up there was gorgeous. Down below the valley, snow-covered Caucasus Mountains in the far back, and the Koruldi Ridge behind me.
In Mestia, I had my second chance to ski in this country. But after seeing that there is only one ski lift, I scrapped my plans. I still took the ski lift up. But only to get to the top and then walk a trail along the ridge.
On the trail, I was passing a couple who I overheard speaking Czech. Very few tourists crossed my path by that time. And this was the first time I heard the Czech language while in Georgia. I greeted them in Czech, and we stopped to have a brief conversation. They have also been in the country for a while and haven’t met a fellow countryman yet. We talked about our plans and experiences and then parted ways.
The night before I was to leave the valley, a thick layer of snow had fallen onto the ground. Many cars were struggling to get out of the city. Including me. I was stuck in Mestia for a couple hours until a snowplow cleared the road.
By the time I exited the Svaneti region, there wasn’t enough time to drive all the way to Batumi. I stopped in Zugdidi, about halfway through.
Zugdidi is very close to the border with Abkhazia. Before I left for Georgia, my friends warned me about the conflict. I never felt unsafe. Many of the cities I’ve visited have been shelled by the Russian army. But most damages have been repaired since, and the cities didn’t bear any signs of destruction. I have never seen the presence of the military. Undoubtedly, they are stationed near the borders in case the tensions escalate again.
Sometimes I use satellite images to assess how long I want to stay in a place. Batumi didn’t look that exciting from above. My original plan was to stay only a few days.
I was lucky with my accommodation. The apartment was centrally located and well equipped. From the balcony, I had a view of a corner of 6 May Park. The corner of the park where children’s attractions invited families to stay long after sunset and enjoy the mild temperatures during the evenings.
By that time, I had been in Georgia for three weeks. I did get used to seeing the Georgian language and script. But in Batumi, I almost exclusively heard the Russian language. In the streets, in bars, and in shops, everybody was speaking Russian. Mostly young people. Young Russians.
After a few days, I started seeing Batumi’s charm. Even though it rained a lot, I enjoyed the walks on the beach, in the parks, and along the promenade. I extended my stay as far as I could, leaving Batumi only because I had to drive to Tbilisi to return the car.
I drove back to Tbilisi late on a Thursday. Way past sunset, the highway was almost empty. The road took me past familiar cities that I had visited before. Through mountain passes that I had crossed not long ago in the opposite direction.
Tbilisi welcomed me with a cold snap. That was a stark contrast to the warm temperatures in Batumi.
It was my last two days in Georgia. I spent them exploring the city on foot and taking the famous metro. On my last day, I went to the bazaar. I walked past countless stalls selling the same products. Everything from clothes to cleaning products, from live fish to whole pig heads. If I wanted to find something specific, I’d have no chance on my own. The bazaar is incredibly vast.
By pure chance, I walked through a corner of the bazaar where two stalls were selling candy. The small chocolates that are popular across Russia. The kind that you buy by weight. I had plenty of space in my luggage, so I bought two kilos.
My last day in Tbilisi was unremarkable. It had snowed the night before, and roofs were now covered with a thin layer of snow. I packed my bags and ordered a Bolt to drive me to the airport. We were driving on the same road that I was taking when exiting Tbilisi with my own car three weeks prior. The same road that was lined with flags of Georgia and the European Union.
Look into my eyes
Tell me what I can do
Keep me safe
Dance with me