Tbilisi, Georgia

 

It’s our first ex-USSR country, and yes, we’re surprised too.  (Cliff note explanation: We are headed to Europe for spring, but wanted to make a stopover.  We read that Georgia/Armenia are welcoming to Jewish tourists, so we checked flights (Tbilisi, Georgia vs Yerevan, Armenia) and Tbilisi came out on top.  So, here we are.) 

 

Arriving in Georgia (the country, not the state) from Japan was… jarring.  The lady at passport control said NOTHING to us.  Surprised how small the airport was.  Hopped into a Bolt (aka Uber).  Crumbling Soviet concrete apartment blocks.  Graffiti.  Loud honking horns.  Cheese, lots of cheese (Ken went to four pharmacies to find Lactaid).  Fantastic cheap wine.  Crazy looking alphabet.  Rich mix of contrasting architectures with abandoned buildings.  Countless stray dogs (surprisingly, good-natured and well fed).  Staring, so much insistent staring (directed at us).  This mountainous country is a contradiction - a mishmash of European, Russian, and Persian. 

Our AirBnB turned out to be a hidden gem on a narrow street in Old Town, across the street from a Carrefour (grocery) and a funky international food court.  When Maya, the elderly neighbor, let us in, we instantly felt relaxed.  

 

After an invigorating 15 hours of sleep…. The cobblestone streets had a European café vibe but with a distinctive Soviet flair.  Similar to Japan we had significant language issues.  Everett: Why is everyone so angry?  Ken: They’re not angry, it’s just the language.  Shout out to Ken's close friend, Albina, for teaching him that tip years ago. It took us several days of jet lag plus culture shock to adjust.  

 

We rode the Soviet-era cable car to the 4th century Narikala Fortress, but unfortunately it was closed for renovations.  The view of the city and the Kura River gorge below was exceptional, nonetheless.  We strolled the Old Town and took the funicular to the highest point in the city to an old school kid’s amusement park, Mtatsminda Park.  It was empty on a Tuesday afternoon with very dated equipment (built in 1930’s by Soviets!). 

We debated whether to get a rental car or take the train to venture out, but we landed on a car for flexibility and reliability.  What a good decision!  Everett named our Toyota Corolla, “George.” Get it, Georgia...George:) 

The roads were decent; the driving aggressive but manageable (Ken pulled out his inner Los Angelenos).  We encountered so many one-way streets (Google Maps was unusable).  We stopped at a monastery (alongside a tour bus of Hassidic Jews) with a great view of the city below, excited to be on our rural adventure.  

 

The first night of our road trip we accidentally arrived at the wrong guesthouse (in our defense the house numbers weren’t in order and no one spoke English).  Somehow we even were able to check in and pay for our first night at the wrong hotel. No worries, we got a full refund and we eventually found our place, which had a wonderful view of the town cathedral.  

The next day we ventured through very rural villages until we reached a cave system (ruins of a rock-carved town from the 6th century BC).  We ended up at the birthplace of Stalin.  So even though it was the home of a notorious dictator, our guesthouse host, Lia - the sweetest - (picture staying at your grandma’s house) was too endearing to mind the giant Stalin statue on Stalin Ave.  

The countryside was beautiful but in a haunting kind of way – rusted overhead gas pipes, old men driving tractors, crumbling buildings, cows on the road, modern freeway construction, ancient fortresses, and mountains in all directions.  Laundry hanging out, the only sign of life.

Downtown Kutaisi had old world charm and felt like another era.  The food was definitely the highlight, a refreshing homecoming: bread, cheese, beans, walnuts, pomegranates, peppers, eggplant, dumplings, and weird raisin-flavored waxy nut sticks.

We visited an enormous natural underground cave about 80 m below ground that stretches for miles.  

 

Then we made our way south into the mountains (towards Turkey/Armenia).  Our host welcomed us with a bottle of wine.  The wine making heritage in Georgia goes back to 6,000 BC!  Still to this day, they use giant terra-cotta pots that are buried underground.  My new favorite is the red grape, Saperavi.

 

We ate more wonderful food at a local Georgian restaurant, but the waiter was perplexed by us.  Waiter: “Never in my life.  Husband and wife come to my restaurant.  Wife orders wine.  Husband nothing.  Lemonade, are you sure?”  

This morning Everett is at the park with a Russian family staying at our guesthouse.  Everett is excited to have friends.  Small victories.