Georgia Travel Guide: Wine, Mountains and the Country That Invented Hospitality

Tbilisi is the warmup. Two days is right

Tbilisi stacks itself on the sides of a gorge. Sulphur baths at the bottom, a 4th-century fortress at the top, crumbling wooden balconies and Soviet concrete in between. The old town is walkable in a morning. By afternoon you are in Abanotubani, soaking in the thermal baths that gave the city its name ("tbili" means warm), and by evening you are in a natural wine bar where the bartender explains qvevri fermentation with the intensity of a theology student.

Skip the crowded cable car and walk up to Narikala instead. The Dry Bridge Market is good for Soviet antiques and oil paintings sold by the metre. The Fabrika hostel complex in a converted textile factory has the best courtyard bar scene. But here is the thing about Tbilisi: it is a great city, not a great reason to visit Georgia. Get your bearings, eat khachapuri for breakfast, and leave on day three.

Kazbegi: the drive is half the trip

The Georgian Military Highway runs north from Tbilisi to the Russian border, and the three-hour drive to Stepantsminda (most people still call it Kazbegi) is one of the best road trips in the world. You climb through the Aragvi Valley, pass the 14th-century fortress at Ananuri perched above a reservoir, cross the Jvari Pass at 2,379 metres where the road cuts through bare alpine grassland, and drop into the town with Mount Kazbek filling the windshield.

The Gergeti Trinity Church sits on a hilltop directly in front of the glacier. The hike up takes about 90 minutes and the path is obvious. Go before 9am if you want the church without 200 other people. The view is better in the afternoon light, so some people go twice. For a harder day, the trail toward the glacier base camp takes you above the treeline into terrain that feels Himalayan.

Marshrutkas leave from Tbilisi's Didube station for about 10 lari. They are cramped, fast, and the driver treats the hairpin turns as suggestions.

Kakheti and 8,000 years of putting wine in the ground

The Kakheti region east of Tbilisi has been fermenting grapes since approximately 6000 BC. Not in barrels. In qvevri, large clay vessels buried in the earth, sealed with beeswax, and left alone. The method produces amber wines from white grapes that have a tannic, almost savoury quality nothing in France or California prepares you for.

Signhaghi is the prettiest base, a hilltop town with cobblestones and views over the Alazani Valley. Pheasant's Tears is the internationally known winery and worth a visit. But the real experience is knocking on doors. Family cellars with no sign, no website, and no appointment necessary will pour you five wines and send you off with a bottle for 10 lari. Saperavi is the red you will keep reordering. Rkatsiteli made in qvevri is the amber wine that started the hype.

Most Georgians drink homemade wine that never touches a label. If you stay at a guesthouse in Kakheti, your host will open a bottle from their own cellar before you have put your bag down.

About the food situation

Georgian food is built on bread, cheese, walnuts and herbs. That sounds simple until you eat Adjarian khachapuri, a boat of molten cheese with a raw egg and a lump of butter dropped into the middle, and you stir it with your fork and tear bread from the edges to scoop it. Khinkali are soup dumplings. You hold the twisted knob at the top, bite the side, drink the broth, then eat the rest. The knob is the handle, not the food. Locals count how many knobs are left on your plate.

A full meal at a local restaurant with a bottle of wine runs 25-40 lari ($8-13). Street khachapuri is 3-5 lari. Churchkhela, strings of walnuts dipped in grape must and dried into a candle shape, hang from market stalls everywhere and cost almost nothing. The whole country eats well for prices that would barely cover a coffee in Zurich.

Svaneti is difficult and that is the filter

Upper Svaneti is where Georgia gets serious. Medieval stone defence towers, 20 metres tall and 800 years old, standing in clusters in villages at 2,000 metres with the high Caucasus behind them. Each family built one during the centuries of blood feuds, and some villages have dozens. Ushguli, at the end of the Mestia-Ushguli trek, is one of the highest continuously inhabited settlements in Europe.

The trek takes three to four days and passes through valleys where you will not see a road or a car. Guesthouses along the route serve dinner and breakfast. The trail markings are inconsistent and river crossings after rain get tricky, but you do not need a guide if conditions are reasonable. The Chalaadi Glacier day hike from Mestia is the easier alternative.

Getting to Mestia itself is part of the commitment. A marshrutka from Tbilisi takes 8-9 hours. The Vanilla Sky flight from Natakhtari airfield takes 40 minutes in a small prop plane that threads between the mountains. Book the flight if it runs. Take the bus if it does not.

Things nobody warns you about

Georgian drivers are genuinely frightening. Blind corner overtaking is standard. Livestock wanders onto the highway. If you rent a car, adjust your expectations and your insurance.

The marshrutka system works but runs on unposted schedules. Buses leave when full. Show up at the station, ask, and wait. For popular routes this means 20 minutes. For Svaneti it might mean an hour.

The Georgian alphabet is beautiful and completely opaque. You cannot sound out signs the way you can in Turkey or Croatia. Download offline Georgian on Google Translate before you leave Tbilisi. In the capital, younger people speak English. In the countryside, Russian gets you further.

The supra, the traditional feast, is the cultural experience you did not plan for. A tamada (toastmaster) leads the table through formal toasts. Wine is drained with each one. Food keeps arriving. If you are invited to a supra, cancel everything else that day. You are not leaving sober.