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.

Between Past and Present. In the Mountains

 

Our morning technically started the night before. Around 10pm, to be precise - when our hotel decided to host a “private party”. Even the dishes in our room were gently vibrating. Scott called reception and politely asked if they could maybe, possibly, consider turning the music down. Reception politely explained that there was a private party on the sixth floor and stopping it was apparently not on the table. Scott, however, was equally firm in his position of not wanting to listen to subwoofer-induced existential dread. Eventually, miraculously, the music was turned down. Peace was restored.

Since we had very wisely booked a tour for today, sleeping in or changing plans was not an option. At 8:20 sharp, a car was waiting outside, and with it - Avto.

Avto was enthusiastic. Extremely enthusiastic. By the time we left Tbilisi, he had already shared detailed information about everything we could see - and quite a few things we couldn’t.

Our first stop was the Tbilisi Reservoir. Think local Ülemiste järv, but upgraded: vast, calm, and a very photogenic shade of light blue. From there, we moved on to a fortress at the other end of the reservoir.

Next came one of those “nature is showing off again” moments: the meeting point of two rivers - one black, one white - that flow side by side without mixing. Apparently, they only blend once temperatures equalize. Until then, it’s a clear visual separation.

Georgia takes honey seriously. So, naturally, our tour included a honey tasting. Raspberry blossom, chestnut, rhododendron, peppermint - side by side, the differences were surprisingly obvious. We did what any reasonable people would do: bought some.

At this point, I was hungry enough so we stopped at a place called Drunk Cherry.

We were the only customers. Ordering one salad and one sausage took over 30 minutes to prepare, but the establishment made up for it by providing us with two dogs for company. Outside, it was snow on the ground, but the sun had warmed the terrace into something surprisingly pleasant. A slow lunch, but at least we weren’t alone.

Next up: the Russia–Georgia Friendship Monument. Built quite a while ago and still standing strong, presumably powered by irony. Getting there involved trudging through snow, but the views were absolutely worth it - wide, dramatic, mountainous.

Eventually, we reached Kazbegi - specifically the village of Stepantsminda, with the iconic Gergeti Trinity Church built above it. Slightly less snow than the previous stop, but the views remained spectacular. And just 12 km away: Russia. Back in the village, we took a walk and had a late lunch - kharcho, khinkali, and syrniki )cottage cheese pancakes) - on a terrace overlooking the only road connecting Russia and Georgia right now. The road itself barely fit two vehicles side by side, yet an endless stream of trucks passed through the village. Logistics at its finest.

On the way back, we played a fun regional game: Will the tunnels be open?

Apparently, if the police decide to let the hundreds of waiting trucks through, the tunnels close for about two hours for the other side. Luckily, we made it through without delay. A small but meaningful victory.

At a rest stop to use toilets, I noticed a sign stating that using the toilet costs one lari. Seeing no one to pay, I proceeded anyway. On the way out, a woman appeared behind me and shouted something in Georgian. Turns out, the cashier had returned mid-visit. I handed her two lari. She then spent a solid minute looking at me, then at her change, then back at me, clearly reconsidering several life decisions. Eventually, she gave up and handed me one lari back. Honestly, I expected a follow-up with a mop to the back of the head, but no - this time, I got lucky.

About four hours later, we were back at the hotel. The plan was simple: a short walk, a quick stop at a shopping mall, a few snacks, and done. However, crossing the street in this city is a strategic operation involving tunnels every 500 meters, so we ended up walking much farther than intended.

On the bright side, we discovered a café that not only sold coffee but also drew your portrait on the cup. Unexpected. Definitely a win. A box of sweets later, we returned to the hotel.