It was September 2017 when I ventured alone to Georgia for two weeks. You can check out the previous parts here (and I would recommend them if you haven’t already, to understand what this is all about):
- Tbilisi. Why a girl shouldn’t travel to Georgia alone.
- Kazbegi. A meeting that changed all my plans.
When I was in Kazbegi (the green button), I decided to change my plan (which I didn’t actually have) and head to Mestia (the yellow button). The route required passing through Kutaisi (the gray button).
I knew little about Kutaisi: it has the Prometheus Cave, nearby is the Okatse Canyon, and various other wonders. Oh yes, a host girl in Tbilisi placed a lollipop from the Kutaisi confectionery factory on my pillow (a long mint stick in paper striped yellow-green-white packaging, as I remember it now).
This part will definitely be harder for me to write than the previous ones because I don’t know how to make Kutaisi sound interesting, and I have only about 30 photos from this city. But I can’t skip it, so I’ll try to make it fun. Consider this a warning.
Day 6
To get from Kazbegi to Kutaisi, I had to return to Tbilisi, which I began to do at the end of the Kazbegi section, if you remember 🙂 Tamara and her boyfriend Christoph, with whom I stayed in Tbilisi, highly recommended buying a train ticket due to the magnificent views. But when I was descending from the mountain into the capital and googling trains, it turned out they could be very unreliable + I wasn’t sure if I would make it on time. The final straw was discovering that upon arrival at the Tbilisi bus station, the train station was rather far away. I had a suitcase with me and wanted to avoid too much movement + there was a risk of missing the train. So, I decided to take a marshrutka.
So, I arrived at the bus station and asked where to find a marshrutka to Kutaisi. I ended up on a square, packed tight with white marshrutkas with Georgian signs. Which one do I need?
In Georgia, I figured out how to see where a particular marshrutka was heading. I opened maps.me and looked at the name of the city in Georgian, memorized the first letter (or two), and then simply walked around checking the signs to see if this marshrutka was right for me. I learned about five to seven Georgian letters this way (a few were also taken from my water bottle).
Though again, I’m sure I could have asked— and they would have told me everything I needed, ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶would̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶g̶i̶v̶e̶n̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶w̶i̶n̶e̶.
I found the marshrutka to Kutaisi, loaded my suitcase, and began to wait. Next to the marshrutka was some sort of loudspeaker, which was blaring non-stop advertisements in Georgian. And it wasn’t just any advertisement; it was such an excruciating roar! NON-STOP. At first, it was hard, but then I just started to repeat the text to myself 😄
Anyway, we finally set off. The ride was long, and outside the window were fields with mountains in the distance. It was a strange feeling, “I’ve spent almost a week alone in a foreign country and I’m now heading with my suitcase to who knows where.” I dozed off a bit during the ride, although it was a shame—because outside were the mountains!
It was time to think about where to spend the night.
I found myself in a situation for the first time in my life where I didn’t even know which city I would be sleeping in that night.
Well, I wanted spontaneity and not to plan anything! Of course, I wanted to leave for Mestia right away to wake up in the mountains the next morning, but I wasn’t sure if there would be any marshrutkas going in the evening. Plus, there was a risk that my backside would never be round again after a trip from Kazbegi to Tbilisi to Kutaisi to Mestia in one day. I decided to stay in Kutaisi for the night or two and started looking for accommodation. Browsing through the apartments in a small town while bouncing in a shaking marshrutka was a rather questionable pleasure.
I tried to find those strange apartments, but apparently, Kutaisi has improved in a year and a half, because a quick search yielded nothing shocking. There were, you know, those apartments that looked as if everyone from the early/mid-2000s had made “Euro renovation”. Also, there was a very pink apartment, but now only this one was found:
We passed through Georgian villages, and the scenery began to noticeably change: there was more greenery. “We have entered Western Georgia,” said the man who had previously treated me to a sweet Georgian bun. In the villages along the road, they sold clay dishes (ooh) and some kind of sitting hammocks—of course, I wanted one, and I kept trying to figure out if it would fit in my suitcase. Oh, also earlier we had a stop where I experienced the most unpleasant toilet of my life (it even beat the Filfak BGU, but at least the tiles were pretty in the second).
Desperate to find a cute apartment, I decided to check out hostels. The guesthouse with chacha, which the Scotsman spoke of, didn’t appeal to me much. However, I found a hostel with a four-bed room, which booking was kindly warning me: “Only four spots left!” Hmm, what to do since the room was free with all four beds… Of course, I booked one of them. This happiness cost $6.
As we approached Kutaisi, an older Georgian man (around 60) sat next to me, heading to Batumi. Naturally, he asked me where I had been and where I was going. Again, I was “so brave, because I traveled alone.” He said he organized tours around Georgia and asked for my Instagram, oh! I had nowhere to go, so I gave it. He opened Instagram, and his feed immediately displayed some busty girls. Well, I see 😀
I was dropped off with my suitcase on some street. I was again in an unknown place. The journey from Tbilisi took about five hours.
I happily rolled my suitcase down the street. Saturday, 6 PM, almost +20 outside, tomorrow I’m heading to the mountains, and in the gardens of houses along the road, pomegranates grow on trees! I think I even saw persimmons.
At one point, a light-haired man about 40 offered to help me. I was just pulling my suitcase off the curb to cross the road. The funniest thing was that he ended up walking next to me, but I continued to roll my suitcase myself for a while. Something told me it would be good to get away from him, but he had already dragged me into conversation and was carrying my suitcase. Let’s say his name was Maxim. Maxim talked about how hard it was to find work in the city and invited me to come over for tea sometime. There was something about him living with his mother, too. By this moment, I was already quite nervous, and he already knew where I planned to stay because he had asked at the beginning where to take my suitcase. It was an uneasy feeling, you know. We arrived at the house where the hostel was located. I started to say goodbye, but Maxim said: “What do you mean, I’ll carry your suitcase up the stairs.” Damn! We arrived, and the host met me; Maxim looked around and exchanged a few words in Georgian with him, then told me: “I told them not to offend you,” and finally left. Hallelujah.
In the hostel (I accidentally typed “in the church,” haha), there was a 27-year-old Georgian guy with a beard as the head, and there was another guy with him. The host said there was a problem with my four-bed room; therefore, I would stay in a six-bed dorm, but absolutely alone. “Perfect, except Maxim just left, now I’m alone with two guys,” I thought.
I tidied myself up and decided to go in search of mountain clothes. I asked the guys:
— Do you know where I can buy a hat?
— There’s a shopping center, but it’s probably already closed.
— At seven in the evening?
— This is Kutaisi.
Promising. Nevertheless, I needed to get into the city. To eat, for example.
I walked through the evening city and couldn’t believe it: +19 in the evening! End of September, I found myself in the middle of nowhere and was looking for a hat.
The girl at the exchange office made a mistake and gave me 20 lari less (~$8). Normally I wouldn’t count the money, but here I suddenly decided to check at the cashier. To my: “Hey, you’re missing 20 lari,” the girl just calmly handed me a twenty without a word. Interesting.
I went into a store and bought myself a hat, gloves, scarf, and a T-shirt. I can say I was ready for the mountains. Nice.
It was time for dinner, I found a café with pancakes or something similar and sat on the terrace because it was, as I already mentioned, +19!!! At the end of September! On the terrace, I was alone, and the waiters apparently weren’t prepared for someone to sit there (a spot for northern girls), so no one came to take my order. Well, whatever.
I went to a restaurant in the square, opened the menu, and realized that I couldn’t eat any more cheese or doughy food. It was the sixth day in Georgia, mind you. I ordered a salmon steak and a glass of wine. No cheese!!! Next to me, there was a bag with my hat and gloves; I was about to head to the mountains, and life was beautiful. From the second floor, well-dressed girls kept coming down and then going back up—it seemed they were having a bachelorette party. On my way home, I bought yogurt for the morning.
I returned to the hostel satisfied, with my new hat, and the host says: “While you were out, a new guy arrived, so sorry, you won’t be living alone.” My first thought was: “Oh no, MAXIM returned!”, my hands grew cold (at least they definitely grew cold now, but maybe it’s just the March weather in Minsk). But I was lucky, and it wasn’t Max.
Not-Max was sitting on the floor in the living room and drinking tea while I was getting ready for bed. We chatted for a few hours, and out of hunger, we devoured the yogurt I had saved for the morning. Not-Max had a good laugh at my stories and my giant suitcase. He offered to drive me to the Prometheus Cave, which I planned to visit. Let’s call this guy Will to keep it simple. I happily agreed.
Day 7
The next morning, Will and I decided to have breakfast on the way to the cave. We found a café on the map and set off (he had rented a car). We arrived at some little town for the café in the park, but it was closed. I fed a dog wandering in the park the khachapuri with cheese I brought from Kazbegi that I didn’t eat, and within a few minutes, I ended up with three dogs. “Aaaawww, now you have Georgian dogs!” Thus, we walked down the street with three dogs.
By the way, I noticed that all the stray dogs in Georgia have numbered tags on their ears.
We found a café, and I couldn’t decide what to have for breakfast. The woman said: “There’s a flatbread with beans, and there’s one with cheese.” I looked at her with pleading eyes: “Please, just without cheese, I can’t eat any more.” The woman laughed and offered me a chicken salad. Thank you for that. The portion was huge, so I still couldn’t finish it.
We drove through Georgian villages, cows lay lazily on the road, and I intermittently shouted: “Look, mountains!” It was my first journey where a guy was driving me in the passenger seat through a foreign country; we chatted nonstop, and you know, I was just immensely happy.
The Prometheus Cave isn’t much different from any other cave that I understand. I visited some cave in Crimea ten years earlier, and it looked about the same. Stalactites, stalagmites, and all that. The paths in the cave are poured with concrete, and that already creates distance. There were quite a few people, so we fell behind our group and walked around looking for funny shapes. Now I’d rather go to the Okatse Canyon 🙂
— I much prefer being on a mountain rather than under one, when it feels like the whole mountain is pressing down on you.
— Don’t worry, Alia, even if something happens, you won’t feel anything anyway.
— Tell that to my mom!
It was time for Will to head to the airport, so he drove me back to the hostel. On the way, we stopped at a gas station where I acted as a translator. “It’s much easier this way! Where were you two days ago?” Will laughed. “In the mountains,” I replied. We arrived at the hostel, hugged goodbye, and my unexpected companion rushed to the airplane.
I returned home, and the host asked me if I smoked marijuana.
— I don’t smoke.
— Okay, but if you ever want to—feel free to join.
“How interesting October could begin,” I thought, lay down a bit in my empty room, and went to explore the city.
Right now, I would probably use this article, but back then, I didn’t think to Google it:
Underrated Kutaisi. What to do in the city?
I strolled through the city back and forth and decided to go to the park. The park, as usual in Georgia, was on a hill. Not surprising. The park looked straight out of the ’80s, a typical Soviet amusement park. I rode the Ferris wheel—the view of the city was beautiful! And guess what else was there? Mooooooountaiiiins!…
I saw men in mountain gear wandering through the park. They wanted to ride the Ferris wheel but didn’t know where to find tickets. I told them, they bought tickets, and then I watched as four men climbed into the cabin of the Ferris wheel and spun around. I chuckled a little.
I decided to try something new and descend on this kind of thing:
After descending and being glad to stand on solid ground again (it was a bit scary in that thing), I continued my stroll.
The second half of the day in Kutaisi was utterly useless because there was nothing to do. By the way, I found myself on a bench at 6 PM thinking: “When can I go to sleep?” Likely because I had only slept for about three hours at night.
I returned to the hostel and asked how to get to Mestia. “There’s a marshrutka leaving from the bus station at 8 AM. But sometimes, people don’t gather, so it might not go. If not, we will have to take a train to Zugdidi and from there by marshrutka,” the host told me. Lovely.
I packed my suitcase, cleared some space on my phone from the Kazbegi photos, and continued searching for accommodation in Mestia for the next two nights.
Day 8
I woke up in the morning, drank my yogurt, and dragged my suitcase downstairs, cursing it for the two or three floors. I took a taxi to the bus station, secured a spot in the marshrutka—here, it cost more than from Tbilisi to Kazbegi. At first, I was worried that it wouldn’t fill up and we wouldn’t leave, but the driver said we would still leave; we would just wait for more people to arrive. I went to the toilet in the casino, sorry. I arrived at 8, and we left around 10.
Bye-bye, Kutaisi!
The beauty of Kutaisi: low-cost airlines fly there (including from Vilnius).
Bonus
Just to give you an idea of how posts are written about events from a year and a half ago and how much I had to say, I’ll attach screenshots of the draft I started in early September 2018.
Mestia. Climbing into the mountains, chacha, Georgian dances.
↓ You can clap your hands up to 50 times below; it’ll make me happy 😊
Kutaisi. The city where I felt a bit out of place.
was originally published in Alia and her adventures on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
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