Here in London Town. Butter Butter Baby

 

The morning began with breakfast at Caravan, conveniently located across the river — because calories consumed after a scenic walk count less. The area had that effortlessly cool industrial vibe: old brick, steel, warehouses pretending not to be trendy while being trendy.
Breakfast? Excellent. Like, consider-ordering-everything-on-the-menu excellent.

As an early birthday surprise (or just exceptional hospitality), I was presented with cake complete with a candle. After I had eaten my way through half the menu.

Speaking of surprises: I forgot to mention yesterday that I received a lime body scrub from Lush for the occasion. Naturally, we also bought bubble bath because our hotel room had a bathtub and apparently I’ve entered the stage of life where soaking in hot water for 30 minutes feels like peak luxury. I spent half an hour floating there yesterday, enjoying my lemony bubble bath.

After breakfast, we wandered through Covent Garden, then headed towards Big Ben, with ambitious plans to continue to the Sky Garden. London Underground, however, had different plans for us — proving once again that no itinerary survives public transport.
So instead of panoramic skyline views, we simply walked. More walking. Endless walking. At some point, we found ourselves watching a cute squirrel, which in London somehow feels like an official tourist activity.

After lunch, we explored Leadenhall Market, before continuing to Barbican — an architectural masterpiece depending on who you ask, or a giant concrete Soviet fever dream depending on your mood.
Honestly? It’s ugly. But also weirdly fascinating. The kind of ugly that circles back into cool.

Dinner on the other hand came with drama.
We had plans to eat at Swiss Butter, so we walked there. Upon arrival: a queue of approximately 50–60 people outside.
Not a simple quick queue.
A banana queue. Like something out of Soviet times where rumours spread that oranges had arrived somewhere and everyone immediately abandoned their plans.
After about 45 minutes of waiting, we finally got a table.

And honestly? Worth. Every. Single. Minute. The menu was wonderfully short and uncomplicated: choose your protein and then surrender to the glorious fact that everything comes drowned in their famous Swiss buttery sauce. Simple. Dangerous. Incredible.

We finished the evening chasing sunset views because apparently exhaustion isn’t a real concept while travelling. The internet declared Primrose Hill the best place to see London at sunset, so naturally we rushed there.

We admired the view, both agreed that yes, this was lovely, and then promptly went back to the hotel to collapse into bed like two people who had accidentally walked half of England in a single day.

Here in London Town. Mind the Gap and pass on the Snacks

 

 

The alarm went off at a completely unreasonable hour because our flight was at 5:35 AM. You know it’s early when the timed terrace lights from last night are still on. The flights? Entirely uneventful. A suspiciously smooth start.

 By 8 AM London time, we had landed and by 9:30, we managed to snag the last available table at brunch downtown London already. A few eggs and some dangerously good ricotta hotcakes later, we felt vaguely human again and headed toward the hotel.

 Since check-in wasn’t ready yet (actually it was, but for 50 GBP) we did what every traveler does: changed clothes in record time and abandoned our luggage in storage, hoping we’d eventually reunite with it.

The original grand plan was to head to Camden for food, but brunch had defeated us. Full stomachs won the argument, so instead we wandered along the Thames, eventually making our way to Tower Bridge.

And finally, after countless trips to London, we walked across the famous glass floor, which is either thrilling or mildly terrifying depending on how much you trust engineering. The views, however, were worth every second of pretending not to look down too much.

On our way back to the hotel, we accidentally stumbled upon The Garden at 120 and decided to head up. Unexpected city views? Always a good idea in London.

Finally, back at the hotel, we got access to our room… only to discover it had a lovely view directly into the atrium. Romantic, if your dream holiday includes staring at indoor architecture and other rooms just a few meters away.

Thankfully, Scott came to the rescue, made a call, and suddenly we were moved to a room with an actual outdoor view.

The housekeeping team also kindly left us an unexpected bonus: a collection of forgotten dress shirts from the previous guest hanging neatly in the wardrobe. A thoughtful touch. Or a mystery. We chose not to ask questions.

For dinner, we finally made it to Camden Lock Market, specifically the delicious food street, where all self-control disappears.

We ordered a fried plantain sandwich and brisket loaded fries, and honestly? Absolute perfection.
But then came trouble.
Because Camden also has MyCookieDough.
So naturally, about ten minutes later, we found ourselves standing there holding a plate of freshly baked hot cookies drowning in Nutella and topped with ice cream. Zero regrets. Our scale at home does not know yet.

By 9 PM, we were asleep — because after a day that started before sunrise, even London couldn’t compete with the overwhelming desire to collapse into bed.

Between Past and Present. Unexpected midnight surprise

 

Yesterday morning began with a plan: skip the predictable and still underwhelming hotel buffet and treat ourselves to a charming little brunch spot somewhere in the winding streets of Tbilisi. You know the type - artsy, cozy, likely serving avocado toast and poached eggs.

Reality, however, had other plans.

We arrived, optimistic and hungry, only to discover that the menu was… much more minimalist than indicated on the home page. Even more impressively, the staff seemed to have mastered the rare art of complete indifference.
Now, to be fair, in proper restaurants throughout the city, service had been genuinely warm - staff going above and beyond despite sometimes shaky English. But elsewhere? Let’s just say customer service occasionally felt like a nostalgic tribute to the Soviet era. No greetings. No smiles? Friendly interaction not yet introduced here.
Instead, we were often treated to animated, loud Georgian yelling accompanied by a deep frown. At least no one hit us with a mop, which, given the vibe, felt like a win.
The café itself featured a silent young man behind the counter who avoided eye contact at any cost. In an entirely empty bistro, we somehow still felt invisible.

Thankfully, solutionn was just around the corner - literally. A second spot, a mere 100 meters away, welcomed us with open arms (and functioning menus).

There, we enjoyed like brunch royalty: perfectly cooked eggs, fluffy brioche, indulgent waffles - everything the first place had promised but never delivered. Balance was restored to the universe.

Fueled and happy, we made our way back to that impressive boulevard we had explored earlier in the week - because some places just deserve a second walk-through.
We also stopped by what could best be described as Tbilisi’s version of Telliskivi… except much smaller. Imagine expecting a creative district and getting a single building.
We grabbed some local strawberries (delicious), had cake (of course!), and slowly walked back to the hotel to pack.

The evening plan sounded simple: one last stroll through the old town, followed by dinner at a carefully selected local restaurant.
Except, we took one look at the place and decided: absolutely not.
Instead, we found a new restaurant, secured a lovely window table, and settled in.

The food? Outstanding. We sampled various local dishes, each better than the last. Though, in a moment of culinary confusion, what was supposed to be brisket turned out to be tenderloin.

With an early flight ahead, we had wisely booked our final night at an airport hotel - pure genius, right? More sleep, less stress.
Well. At exactly 00:20, someone began knocking on our door with determination usually reserved for emergencies. Scott got up to answer it, only to be greeted by a cleaner asking - wait for it - whether we were planning to check out. At midnight. While clearly sleeping.

It was one of those surreal moments where you’re not sure if you’re dreaming or starring in a low-budget comedy. Sleep, after that, was… not really happening.

A few closing remarks about Tbilisi:
• We once again managed to stumble into a protest - this time against the government. Someone was waving a U.S. flag and confidently declaring that America would help Georgia. We did not investigate further.
• Traffic is… interpretive. Rules appear to be more like suggestions. People drive how they want, park where they want (including sidewalks, which are already scarce), and crossing large roads can feel like a real-life video game.
• Pedestrian crossings are rare, tunnels hard to find, and survival instincts highly recommended.

And yet… The food is incredible - fresh, flavorful, and (hopefully) local. Prices are refreshingly reasonable. And despite the occasional chaos, there’s something undeniably captivating about the city.

Between Past and Present. I love Georgia 🇬🇪

 

If there’s one thing we’ve learned about traveling, it’s this: plans are optional, but experiences and adventures are guaranteed.
Like today, for example. I woke up in Tbilisi… with a migraine. Which was especially unfortunate because we had a plan: a day trip to the vineyards. Wine, sunshine, scenic views. But who woke up with a migraine? Yep. Gaili.
Scott, being the practical hero of the day, made a quick executive decision again: we’re not driving anywhere. Luckily, modern medicine exists. And sometimes it also helps. A few pills later, I was back among the living. By around 11, we were already out the door, ready to explore Tbilisi instead.

First stop: the cable car up to the viewpoint near the Ferris wheel.
Now, here’s something interesting. The other day, we paid 10 lari for a round trip on a cable car to the fortress. This one? 50 lari. Go figure. Still, the ride was worth it. We wandered around, enjoyed the views, and then made our way down using the funicular (because why not try all the vertical transport options in one day?).

Lunch was… an emotional journey.
We found a place serving fresh pasta, and Scott was very excited. Like, “this could be the highlight of the day” excited. The pasta is finished inside a giant parmesan wheel – which sounds incredible, right? And then additionally the chosen sauce added.
Well. The pasta looked amazing. The pasta itself also tasted great. But then there was the sauce. Or the lack thereof. The sauce was so bland it felt like it had taken a vow of silence.
Honestly, it might have been better without the sauce. Bigger disappointment than my migraine this morning that made us cancel the daytrip.

After that culinary mishap, we took a couple of hours to recharge at the hotel.
In the evening tho, things took a serious turn for the better.
We had a table booked at a place called “Cheesefarm” just across the street. And let me tell you – this place understood the assignment. Foodwise at least.
We ordered:
• Beef tartare
• Veal carpaccio
• Khachapuri with four cheeses
• Shrimp
• Cakes
Everything. Was. Amazing.
Like, the kind of meal where you stop mid-bite and just keep repeating "OMG, this is so good!" Did you notice, how I didn’t mention the service? Because it was so below the bar, there was nothing to mention.

After dinner, we went back up the mountain with the cable car – because apparently once wasn’t enough.
But this time, it was for the night view.
And honestly? Totally worth it. Tbilisi at night is something else – glowing, calm, and quietly dramatic.

By the time we got back to the hotel, we were done. Exhausted. Ready for the bed.
No vineyard trip. No wine tasting.
But somehow, it still turned into a perfect day.
Because that’s the thing about Georgia – even when things don’t go according to plan, it still is a great country.
We love Georgia.