Unraveling the mystery of Tbilisi, Georgia

Living in Tbilisi, Georgia for a month was like waking from a hazy travel daze that had clouded my ability to view places as new and exciting. As the capital of Georgia, Tbilisi lies on the banks of the Kura river and dates back to the fifth century. It’s a heady mix of global influences due to its proximity to the Silk Road and long, tumultuous decades of rule by Persian dynasties, the Mongols, the Ottoman Empire, Iran, Russia, and finally, Georgia. No where is that more evident than in the architecture which boasts a mix of medieval, Soviet, Persian, and modern influences, all intricately woven together into an undefinable city of contrasts.

When you travel constantly, you start to become comfortable with the uncomfortable and inconvenient, and new places and novel experiences become far rarer. And, while I do my best to hold space and curiosity for the uniqueness of places, cultures, and people, I hadn’t felt inspired by a place in a long time. These days it takes more for a place to intrigue me and inspire me to dig deeper into its identity. Tbilisi was that unique place; Tbilisi shook me awake and made me acutely aware of why I travel and why it’s so fundamental to my identity.

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As I reflect on my experience there, I’m trying to find the right words to describe how Tbilisi, and Georgia in general, made me feel. It was an entirely unexpected place and provided a renewed feeling of discovery. It reminded me of living in Cambodia, when I was young and impressionable and everything was so different from home, yet so intriguing. At the same time, it brought to mind the peaceful European countryside where wine, friends, and castles are never far from sight. I tried to put my finger on what made it so unique, but I couldn’t place it.

Tbilisi is an eclectic mix of influences, with everything from its architecture, traditions, and food a strong reminder of its varied history. On the surface, the food is mostly what I would consider European (hello butter, cheese, and bread), but boasts heavy Asian and Mongol influences with Kinkhali, or soup dumplings, one of the prized dishes throughout the country. After sampling a walnut dressing and stuffed cheese bread the first few days in town, I had to know how to make it and where it came from. So, we joined a cooking class by Georgian Flavors, and once we stepped over the threshold and into Irma’s apartment, I knew we’d made the perfect choice.

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Irma and her cousin introduced us to her mother’s and grandmother’s recipes, walking us through the labor intensive process of making a spread of rich dishes including, badrijani nigvzit which is eggplants in walnut paste, khachapuri the traditional, stuffed cheese bread, chicken with blackberry sauce or tsitsila irim-makvlit, and a fig salad. As we ate dinner, Irma shared more about growing up in Tbilisi, her strong desire to welcome more visitors to her gorgeous country, and her love for connecting with strangers over food. Only, we weren’t strangers after that, she had opened her home and shared with us her family’s treasured recipes, winning us over with warm hospitality, and her adorable puppy.

While the food in Tbilisi is delicious and varied, it’s the qvevri wine that is truly the star of the show. For over 6,000 years, locals in this part of the world have been making wine in clay pots, and the process has been deemed an Intangible Cultural Heritage by UNESCO. Traditional Georgian wine is made by throwing the grapes, skin, and stalks into the giant clay containers in the ground to ferment naturally. Once the wine is complete, the qvevri must be painstakingly cleaned so as not to contaminate the next batch of wine. It’s tradition for the qvevri cleaner to sing as they clean to let the others know they haven’t passed out from the fumes, as the qvevri’s are big enough to fit a person in.

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I attended several tastings in Tbilisi at local spots, but was not able to see the entire process until our entire group went for a full-day wine tour. We traveled to Signali and Kakheti, the wine region closest to Tbilisi and two towns famous for both traditional and modern wine production. Following a day of wine-fueled enjoyment under the sun strolling through vineyards and ancient towns with uneven streets, we were invited to a local family’s house and vineyard for our final meal. The family had a very small winery, no exports, just a few quveri clay pots buried in the ground and a growing collection of aged chacha or Georgian brandy, delicious but dangerous.

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While they were hosting us, they were also throwing a party for one of their sons. Amongst the kids running around and the bright blue balloons tied on chairs and tapped to the windows was a long wooden table in the middle of the house set out for our group, already piled high with endless plates of traditional Georgian dishes. Though we didn’t realize it at the time, that was just the first course. The Georgian “tamada” is a family tradition in which the host invites as many people as possible and shows off by filling the tables with the family’s best recipes, and making long philosophical toasts. During the toast an empty glass is considered disrespectful to your host's hospitality, and the punishment is to drink wine from a ram’s horn!

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We were encouraged to eat until bursting and drink until we were all willingly chugging wine from the notorious ram’s horn by the end of the evening. The family turned the karaoke machine on, the girls in the family sang and danced traditional dances, their parents tearing up, visibly proud of the girl’s willingness to sing in front of strangers. And, never once was our vast language barrier a problem. We were welcomed into this Georgian family’s home with open arms and joy, something that seems far too uncommon these days. This Georgian family was truly genuine in their welcome, and so proud of their heritage that it made us proud to be able to learn from them.

Day after day, experience after experience, I was awed and enthralled with Tbilisi. It was glorious to feel lost and ready for any adventure. It made me think deeply about why I travel. I used to think I traveled because it was exciting and challenging, and I do, but that’s not the whole story. I travel because the whole world is still shrouded in mystery to me and I know so little about all of its people and places. I want to see and to learn firsthand. Since Tbilisi, I’ve been more intentional about letting every place sweep me off my feet and giving it the chance to inspire and enthrall me. Today, I remain awed by the power of nature, people, traditions, and, perhaps most of all, a warm welcome from kind strangers.