Not in a “oh the food is so authentic” kind of way. No, we’re talking medieval-villages-meet-wolf-howls, khinkali that cost less than a TikTok ad click, and grandmas pouring you homemade wine like you’re family and it’s 1462.This isn’t your Pinterest itinerary. This is the travel version of that one friend who goes too hard at karaoke and still walks away with a round of applause. Georgia’s got layers. And this little corner of the Caucasus? It eats Western Europe’s €50 hostel breakfasts for lunch.
Tbilisi: Not Pretty, Not Polished – Just Perfectly Chaotic
Tbilisi is vchaos, and no, that’s not a typo. It’s the kind of city where the buildings sag like they’ve seen things, your Uber driver plays melancholic electro-folk, and the guy next to you on the bus is probably a poet-slash-honey-dealer.
You don’t come here for curated charm. You come to accidentally wander into a supra (Georgian feast), take seven toasts too many, and find yourself arm-wrestling a retired wrestler named Giorgi. Locals will raise a glass and yell “Gaumarjos!” (cheers) like it’s a spiritual practice – and to them, it kinda is.
Eat like a broke king at Machakhela, where khinkali (Georgian dumplings) run you ₾0.8 to ₾1.8 each (~$0.30–$0.70 USD). Sure, the service might be slower than a drunk turtle, and yes, you might get overcharged if you don’t pay attention. But that’s the price of authenticity, baby.
Need a wine education that doesn’t feel like a Napa Valley brochure? Head to 8000 Vintages. It’s not dirt cheap (wine flights start around ₾35), but their Qvevri-poured reds are liquid gospel. The staff actually know their grapes, and you’ll walk out buzzed on more than just booze – call it vino enlightenment.
And just a heads up: don’t even bother asking if you can pay with card in some places. Just… don’t. Cash is king. Stock up before heading into the mountains or remote towns. Otherwise, you’ll be trading your last Snickers for a taxi ride.
Also, learn this phrase: “ar minda aravin” (არ მინდა არავინ) – “I don’t want anyone.” It works on pushy vendors, nosy hostel roommates, and that one guy who thinks you must want to buy amber jewelry at 10 a.m.
Pro Tip: Don’t rely on card payments up here – cash is king. Stock up on lari before you leave Zugdidi, and download maps.me for offline hiking routes that actually work when your signal ghosts you.
The Mordor of the Caucasus: Welcome to Shatili
Shatili isn’t a destination. It’s a dare. A medieval fortress-village nestled near the Chechen border where wolves howl at night and electricity is basically a part-time employee who’s always on break.
Getting there is… dramatic. From Tbilisi, grab a marshrutka to Barisakho, then pay a 4WD driver around ₾150 (~$52 USD) to finish the job. In summer, a direct marshrutka runs twice a week, like a secret level in a video game. Don’t expect it in winter – the road shuts faster than your last situationship.
Y day trip to Okatse Canyon and Kinchkha Waterfall. Getting there is a patchwork of marshrutkas, random taxi guys, and maybe a bit of hitchhiking if you’re feeling spicy – but it’s worth it. Entry’s about ₾17.25 each (~$6 USD), and you can hike the hanging walkway that’ll either give you vertigo or a totally new personality.
Holy grail moment no. 1? Kutaisi Green Bazaar. It’s not aesthetic. It’s not curated. But it is the best place to grab picnic supplies for your canyon adventure – especially if you like your peaches bruised, your cheese slightly mysterious, and your vendors yelling prices in full stereo.
Also, avoid the airport taxi mafia. Take the Georgian Bus from Kutaisi Airport to the city center for ₾10, and save your drama for the mountain roads. (They’ll give you plenty.)Pro Tip: Skip the airport taxi mafia – take the Georgian Bus from Kutaisi airport to city center for ₾10. And hit Kutaisi’s Green Bazaar for picnic supplies before any canyon hikes – it’s where the locals actually shop, and the produce is wild.
The Extra Bits They Don’t Put in Brochures (But Should)
SIM cards? Get one. Magti oBut when you arrive? The village looks like it was carved out of ash and myth. Towers built for defense still stand, and your guesthouse might literally be inside one. Electricity? Spotty. Wi-Fi? LMAO no. Dinners? Whatever the host’s cousin whipped up that day – probs stewed beans and bread hard enough to fight with. But trust me, it’s perfect.
Holy grail no. 2: Sleeping in an ancient defensive tower while stars stab the night sky and the only sound is the wind telling spooky stories. No Instagram filter can capture that kind of silence.
Pro Tip: Don’t rely on card payments up here – cash is king. Stock up on lari before you leave Zugdidi, and download maps.me for offline hiking routes that actually work when your signal ghosts you.
Shatili isn’t curated for tourists – it’s pre-tourism. And that, dear reader, is rarer than a hostel with hot water and working plumbing.
Svaneti: Where The Road Ends and Reality Warps
Let’s talk altitude, shall we? Svaneti is the highland region where even Google Maps throws up its hands and says, “Good luck, bro.” It’s not convenient. It’s not cushy. And it’s absolutely essential.
To get there, take a marshrutka (shared van) from Tbilisi to Mestia – around ₾50 and 8–10 hours of hairpin turns, mountain goats, and one driver chain-smoking like it’s an Olympic sport. There’s a plane from Natakhtari to Mestia too, but it’s more of a roulette wheel than a reliable schedule.
In Mestia, stock up on carbs and courage. Because the hike to Ushguli – Georgia’s ancient stone village suspended in time – is the kind of trek that kicks your legs and feeds your soul. You’ll pass cows with better views than your Airbnb and towers that pre-date your entire family tree.
Your holy grail? Ask around for guesthouses perched above the village center in Ushguli – the kind that aren’t online, don’t have logos, and serve dinners that’ll make you weep into your khachapuri. Expect to pay $11–$38 for a room, and meals around ₾25–₾30 for dinner (about $8–$10).
Electricity? Sometimes. Wi-Fi? Nope. But sunsets over Mt. Shkhara (Georgia’s highest peak) will short-circuit your brain in all the right ways. You didn’t come for modernity. You came for time travel with better bread.
Pro tip (yes, again): download maps.me before you come. It actually works up here when Google disappears like your 2020 travel plans.
Pro Tip: Don’t rely on card payments up here – cash is king. Stock up on lari before you leave Zugdidi, and download maps.me for offline hiking routes that actually work when your signal ghosts you.
Kutaisi: The Lazy Genius of Georgian Cities
Kutaisi is Georgia’s second city and first in the running for “Most Underrated Place You’ll Accidentally Love.”
Sure, Bagrati Cathedral gets the headlines – but the real flex here is Kutaisi’s daily weirdness. Think Soviet mosaics on apartment buildings, bread sold from literal basements, and old ladies absolutely obliterating you in the market over tomato prices. Respect.
Swing by Bakery Sanimusho, a little cold-dish haven that looks like someone’s grandma moved in and brought Wi-Fi. Their eggplant with walnuts? Not optional. Grab it to go and eat it by the Rioni River while street dogs nap beside you like emotional support animals who also judge your snack choices.
Now, listen closely: skip the overpriced tours and take a DIr Beeline will run you less than ₾10 for 5GB, which is probs enough unless you’re uploading drone footage of every grapevine and cow selfie.
Safety? Georgia ranks high on the Global Peace Index. That said, the roads are more terrifying than the people. Look both ways. Then look again. Then just close your eyes and hope for the best.
Visa stuff? Most Western passport holders get one year visa-free. If you’re rolling in on a GCC visa, new rules kick in from May 2025 – check the official site or prepare for border improv theatre.
Solo female travelers? You’re good – just keep your wits about you at night, dress modest-ish in rural areas, and be ready to hit ’em with a firm “ara” (no) when required.
Pro Tip: Use the “Tbilisi Loves You” Wi-Fi network in public parks and metro stations — it’s surprisingly reliable for quick downloads or directions when you don’t have a SIM card. Bonus: local SIMs like Magti or Beeline cost under ₾10 for 5GB.
This Ain’t Goodbye, Just a “Nakhet” (See Ya Later)
Georgia doesn’t try to impress you with glossy postcards — and thank God for that. It’s all uneven pavements, Soviet leftovers, and that one marshrutka that never shows up on time. But then you stumble on a qvevri-fermented wine that tastes like the inside of an oak tree (in a good way), or a back-alley khinkali joint where the dough’s got just the right sag. Boom — hooked.
You’ll probs curse the Wi-Fi, maybe get lost in Tbilisi’s tangle of cracked balconies and dead-end lanes, but this place isn’t about convenience — it’s about character. The kind that sinks in slowly, like a proper cha-cha hangover.
And if you’ve only penciled in 7 days? Rookie move. Stretch it. Stay long enough to find the holy grails: a no-name grandma’s kitchen in Telavi where lunch costs 7 GEL and lasts 3 hours, a half-collapsed monastery near Kutaisi that locals swear grants wishes (no cap), a sulfur spring near Akhaltsikhe nobody Instagrams, and the supra invite you didn’t expect — but shouldn’t turn down.
Once Georgia gets under your skin — ra aris? (what is it?) — even your flight home starts feeling like a bad idea.