Georgia

If it weren’t for the bully next door, Georgia would be in a far different place. It’s hard for an investor to take on the risk in a country where 20% of the land has been usurped by a foreign presence. A visit to Kazbegi will take you within a few kilometers of occupied South Ossetia, with Abkhazia located closer to the Turkish border. With the international community turning a blind eye to aggressive land swiping (such as Ukraine’s Crimea), it’s hard to know when Russia will leave these territories that no longer belong to them.

At the Chronicle of Georgia monument in Tbilisi there’s an aerial view of where displaced refugees now live, in colorful tenements that teem with life. Later in my journey, when I crept into an abandoned hotel and a dilapidated children’s sanatorium in Bakuriani, there was evidence that refugees were coming and going, taking advantage of what shelter they could find among the ruins.

The heavy hand of Russia can also be seen in its surviving architecture. A Brutal Tour takes you to the Bank of Georgia headquarters on the outskirts of Tbilisi, as well as the former Archeological Museum, which is now inhabited by a new owner who can be seen shaving himself outside the building each morning. The tour includes a trip to the Saburtalo neighborhood to visit the Skybridge Apartments, a dazzling feat of engineering that is now in a state of wobbly decay. Tip the security guard (a former sniper in the war against Russia) and she’ll give you a coin for the elevator to take you direct to the top.

From my pad in the former Hotel Londres where Tchaikovsky once stayed, I stumbled upon the Dry Bridge Market, a place to hawk valuables that was born out of the collapse of the Soviet Union. There I bought a military passport of a Georgian commander and tank operator born in 1929 for only a few lari. After enjoying powder-dusted “curds” and a cappuccino at Santino, explore Fabrika with its collection of shops, and Nicolo Brega for its hand-crafted wooden sunglasses replete with leather side shields. Take a rest in the library of the Stamba Hotel and peruse an excellent book on Soviet-style bus stops by Nanuka Zaalishvili.

Delicious hours can be spent sneaking into the courtyards of Georgian-style residences where homes are haphazardly stacked and laced with laundry and grape vines (tended to by Georgians as if they were their children), offering an effusive sense of community. Enter these courtyards early on a weekday morning, and hear an endearing chorus of babies crying as their mothers leave for work. After exploring, I recommend a good soak in the Persian sulfur baths, then lunch at Café Littera.

Georgia’s art scene is largely unknown, with the Museum of Fine Arts and Moma Tbilisi providing a window into the country’s legacy from the past 70 years. On the top floor of the Museum of Fine Arts are a row of paintings by Natela Iankoshvili. Her artwork feels like a punch in the chest, with its bold colors, sweeping brushstrokes, and saturated paint, all set against a jet-black background. The nearby Museum of Soviet Occupation, while an annoyance to Russia, offers a confirmation of what you’ve been hearing from locals on the ground.

To invest in Georgian artists, stop by Fotografia, where they offer a limited edition of Dina Oganova’s Frozen Waves. This handmade journal tells harrowing tales of girls kidnapped in Georgian villages and then forced to marry, accompanied by Oganova’s photography.

From Tbilisi I traveled to Kazbegi, where my driver Dina and I had fun counting the license plates of the trucks along the Military Highway (we spotted Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Latvia, Russia, Turkey, Ukraine, and Uzbekistan). A mismatch in the size of shipping containers has all but halted the hauling of goods by train, so trucks have picked up the slack, with drivers dozing roadside along the route.

With a stay at Rooms Hotel Kazbegi, you can hike to Gergeti Church and (if you’re fearless) to the foot of the Gergeti glacier, passing shepherds herding their cows and sheep across the rugged terrain. The stark landscape, strewn with shards of volcanic rock and shrouded in mist, is unlike any other. The hike to lovely Juta Valley is also not to be missed.

Exploring the exquisite monasteries, churches, pristine lakes, crumbling sanatoriums, and remote villages near Bakuriani – many of which cannot be reached during ski season – provides an understanding of the country’s strong commitment to the Orthodox faith, family life, and living in harmony. Some villages are Greek, others Ossetian, and still others Armenian, with Russian serving as the common language. The hospitality of the region knows no bounds, with spontaneous invitations for tea leading to conversation, laughter, and a heaping spread of Georgian fare.

To taste Georgian water at its source, off-road it to the village of “Little” Mitarbi, where you can stop to see men drilling hundreds of meters down for the new liquid gold. Served by these workers in an elegant glass, the water has a delicious mineral taste evocative of the earth’s core.

In Bakuriani, I recommend a stay at Rooms Hotel Kokhta, where you will experience some of the country’s best cuisine and be connected to David Gavva as your guide. A former professional slalom skier, David now works during the winter on the national rescue team.

My stay only lightly touched upon this fascinating country, with the highlands of Racha and the abandoned sanatoriums of Tskaltubo already beckoning me back. As the world becomes increasingly accessible to all, it’s the unspoiled places offering natural wonders with open-armed hospitality that will matter to us most. For this reason, when opting to travel again, I hope you’ll consider Georgia.

Here’s my photo essay on Georgia.