I’m sitting in the cold back seat of an old taxi as it races through dark, wet streets on the outskirts of Tbilisi in the Republic of Georgia. It’s after midnight and I’ve had a long, exhilarating day, waking at dawn in Tel Aviv, getting a quick taste of Istanbul on my 12-hour layover before catching the flight to my final destination: Georgia. The Republic of Georgia, nestled in the Caucasus mountains, has been the main Georgia on my mind for years leading up to this moment, ever since I had my first sip of semi-sweet Georgian wine and fell in love with Georgian culture: the food, the music, the traditional dances and funny-looking fur hats. All so deliciously exotic, and until recently, barely on the map.*
Yet at the moment, I’m having second thoughts. The chilly, damp air wafting through the cracked open window has me shivering, accustomed as I am to a warm Mediterranean climate. I peer out at the poorly-lit streets as the driver makes one sharp turn after another, the steering wheel squeaking sharply as we pass through still, seemingly abandoned neighborhoods. I notice what appear to be the post-Soviet idiosyncrasies familiar to me from my time in Russia and Ukraine. Crumbling streets, haphazard construction sites. A general blanket of dreariness. The taxi turns again and the driver suddenly stares straight ahead, expressionless, and mechanically makes the sign of the cross - three times in a row. I realize we are passing over a bridge, and wonder whether he is praying that it doesn’t crumble beneath us. I finally arrive at my hostel exhausted, check into a drafty private room and get the sinking feeling that I may not be physically prepared for this long-awaited adventure.
Sure enough, I wake up the next morning with chills, feeling weak, feverish and hardly ready for a whirlwind week in a foreign country, even one at the top of my travel list. I have no appetite for traditionally heavy, dairy-centric Georgian dishes today. Even the idea of venturing out into the city makes my head spin, and I’m starting to wonder whether this weeklong trip will be completely wasted on me.
I now look back on my time in Georgia and find it hard to believe that these were my first impressions of a country that ultimately was characterized by more warmth and hospitality than nearly any place I’ve visited. While some countries have a well-beaten tourist track that makes it difficult for all but the most intrepid travelers find an authentic local experience, Georgia is exactly the opposite. Its nascent tourism infrastructure makes it almost impossible to avoid immersing yourself in the culture and interacting with locals. It’s hard to avoid being (often literally) taken by the hand by every person you meet. Chain hotels and large, impersonal hostels are few and far between. Even in the capital city of Tbilisi, the hostel I found cold and uncomfortable at first turned out to be warm and welcoming after all, once I moved into a room that happened to get a bit more sun and spent a few evenings drinking tea and watching reality TV with the friendly, helpful staff. Outside large cities, homestays – private country homes with just a few extra rooms to spare - are the default option for lodging. Bold grandmothers will swarm your marshrutka (public minibus) upon its arrival in destinations such as the mountain town of Stepantsminda (Kazbegi), proffering rooms for rent “just five minutes walk” away. Though the trek may be a bit longer than advertised, these places are perfectly clean, comfortable, inexpensive options and may in fact be difficult to book any other way. For a few dollars extra, hosts may offer full board, one of my favorite aspects of the homestay experience. On my first evening in Kazbegi, I came downstairs for dinner to find freshly pressed cheese soaking in a bowl and an array of fresh Georgian salads, homemade breads and other flavorful dishes on the carved wooden table. I shared these abundant meals with a handful of guests – British, Israeli, Polish, and German – staying in the other rooms of the house. Two of them became my travel partners and joined me for hikes and shared taxi rides between cities. When we reached the hilltop town of Sighnagi, we found yet another homestay whose hosts offered their several dozen guests not only hearty dinners, but also carafes of house made, delicious, potent Georgian wine generously doled out from barrels in the cellar. When we couldn’t quite keep up with the “Polish table” when it came to the consumption of said wine, we were teasingly reprimanded by our hosts.
So what was the turning point? When did I start to see the warm side of Georgia on a trip that had such a chilly start? At the end of that first feverish day in Tbilisi, during which I had eaten little and hardly left the confines of the hostel, I finally forced myself to venture out, taking a bus to a park that promised a view overlooking the city. I was feeling incredibly weak, and when I found myself boarding the bus without the exact change necessary to pay the fare, I considered giving up on the quest entirely. Suddenly, a group of Georgian students, three girls in their twenties, noticed my predicament and offered me some small change to cover my fare. We arrived at the park, which turned out to be an eerily empty, dark amusement park at the top of a mountain. Sitting on a bench overlooking the city, with a view that wasn’t much to speak of, I continued to have my doubts about being there. But just as I was thinking of taking the next bus straight back to town, I ran into the group of Georgian girls again. They spoke little Russian or English, but they made it clear that they were inviting me to walk around with them. Eventually, we managed to strike up a conversation despite the language barrier. With the help of the universal words “selfie” and “Facebook” we managed to connect and get to know one another over the next two hours. Suddenly, Georgia was less the exotic locale I had been so eager to discover - but rather a warm, familiar place welcoming me home.
*I mean this quite literally. When I first started researching Georgia as a travel destination, Google Maps displayed no roads to speak of.