I cant remember the exact year I visited Georgia, but Im going with 2016 or 2017. I was living in Turkey so it was very easy to travel from Istanbul to Georgia's capital, Tblisi.
Georgia is a country that reveals itself gradually, not through grand explanations but through walking, eating, and paying attention. I stayed for around 2 weeks - long enough to get a feel for daily life, and there was so much that I loved, that blew me away and that stayed with me - the history, the language, the food, and the way old and new coexist without trying to fully resolve each other.
The capital, Tbilisi was my base. It is a city built on slopes, bridges, courtyards, and contradictions. You can wander from quiet residential streets into busy main roads within minutes. Old houses with wooden balconies lean toward each other across narrow lanes, while modern glass buildings appear nearby. Walking around, you constantly stumble on small details: stray cats sleeping on church steps, crumbling staircases leading to hidden courtyards, old men playing backgammon on improvised tables (there seemed to be a lot of those backgammon men in the city!)
One of the clearest ways to understand Tbilisi is from above. The funicular railway climbs up Mtatsminda hill, carrying you up toward open views. At the top, the city spreads out below , the river cutting through it, the old town clustered tightly together, newer districts stretching outward. Nearby stands the Mother of Georgia statue, Kartlis Deda, holding a sword for enemies and a bowl of wine for friends - an unsubtle symbol, but an effective one. Georgia’s history has required both hospitality and defense, and often at the same time.
In the old town, you inevitably come across the Gabriadze clock tower which looks like it was assembled by someone working entirely from memory, slightly crooked, playful, and not quite symmetrical. It feels deliberately human in scale and imperfection, especially in contrast to more monumental architecture.
Georgia’s history presses in everywhere, but not in a way that feels heavy-handed. This is one of the oldest Christian countries in the world, and churches appear constantly, sometimes grand, sometimes modest, often built directly into the landscape. And their interiors blew me away, with walls painted in 1D, thats how old they are! The country has been pulled between empires for centuries, Persian, Ottoman, Russian, Soviet, and that experience shows in its buildings, borders, and politics, yet, Georgia has kept its own language and identity throughout.
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| Mother of Georgia Statue |
Leaving Tbilisi and traveling south, the country opens up. My hostel owner took me out for sight-seeing in his car, which was perfect. The scenery becomes more dramatic and more spacious and our first stop was down south at Uplistkhe. Uplistsikhe is one of Georgia’s most striking archaeological sites, an ancient rock-cut city carved directly into the sandstone cliffs along the Mtkvari River. Dating back to the early Iron Age, it functioned as a political, religious, and commercial center long before Tbilisi became dominant. Walking through Uplistsikhe feels like moving through a blueprint of early urban life. Homes, temples, storage rooms, and meeting spaces are all hewn from stone, connected by worn pathways that still follow the logic of the original settlement.
The city was strategically placed on major trade routes, which helped it grow but also made it vulnerable. Over centuries, it was shaped by shifting religions and repeated invasions. Pagan temples were later overshadowed by Christian structures, and traces of both remain visible in the rock. One of the most impressive features is the main hall, with its high ceilings and carved pillars, opening onto wide views of the river valley below.
Uplistsikhe was largely abandoned after Mongol invasions in the 13th century, and erosion has continued to wear it down. Even so, the scale of what remains is remarkable. The site feels exposed and quiet, with wind moving through open chambers and the landscape stretching out around it. It offers a powerful sense of how people once adapted architecture directly to the land.
Next was our second stop - Rabati Castle sits above the town of Akhaltsikhe and feels very different from many of Georgia’s older ruins because it has been extensively restored. The fortress complex reflects the region’s layered history, shaped by Georgian, Ottoman, and Persian influence over centuries. As you walk through Rabati, you move between stone towers, courtyards, mosques, churches, and palace buildings, all contained within thick defensive walls. The layout makes it clear that this was not just a military site but a lived-in space, combining administration, religion, and everyday life.
Parts of the castle feel polished and almost theatrical, especially in contrast to rougher, more weathered sites elsewhere in Georgia. This restoration can feel slightly artificial at times, but it also allows visitors to clearly understand how the complex once functioned. From the upper levels, there are wide views over Akhaltsikhe and the surrounding hills, reinforcing the castle’s strategic importance.
Rabati’s history reflects Georgia’s position at a crossroads between empires. Control of the fortress changed hands many times, leaving behind architectural traces from different periods. Today, the castle operates partly as a museum complex, with cafes and exhibition spaces alongside historical buildings.
Gori was the last stop on the way back to Tblisi - famous as the birthplace of Josef Stalin - his house has been turned into a museum which I was lucky to catch just before it closed! It includes Stalin's personal train carriage so it was definitely interesting and cool to see! The building itself is grand and formal, almost reverential, with statues, columns, and carefully maintained grounds that feel at odds with the brutality of the man it commemorates. Inside, the museum presents Stalin largely as a heroic figure: photographs of his youth, personal belongings, letters, uniforms, and gifts from foreign leaders. The tone is restrained and factual on the surface, but there is a noticeable absence of critical context about purges, famines, and mass repression. That silence is what makes the visit unsettling.
Outside the main building sits the modest house where Stalin was born, preserved under a protective structure like a relic. Nearby is his personal railway carriage, which he used for travel, a reminder of how power insulated him from ordinary life. Walking through the museum, you become aware that Georgia’s relationship with Stalin is complicated. He is both a local son and a global symbol of terror. The museum doesn’t resolve that tension. Instead, it leaves visitors to sit with the discomfort, making it less a place of education and more a window into how history is remembered, selectively, and sometimes uneasily, in Georgia.
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| A bust of Stalin |
Its easy to get a bit 'monasteried out' in Georgia, but also hard to go past the ones you see dotted about, as its fascinating history. I distinctly remember the David Gareja Monastery because I decided that was my last one I'd go to - the surly monks inside were my 'enough' markers!
David Gareja Monastery is a vast monastic complex carved into the semi-desert landscape along Georgia’s southeastern border. Founded in the 6th century by Saint David, one of the Assyrian monks who helped spread Christianity in the region, it feels remote and deliberately removed from everyday life. The setting is stark rather than lush, with pale hills, wide skies, and wind shaping the silence. Monks once lived and worshipped in cave cells cut directly into the rock, forming a network of chapels, living quarters, and passageways that stretch across multiple ridges. |
| Rabati Castle |
Frescoes inside some of the caves date from the 8th to 13th centuries and are among the most important examples of medieval Georgian religious art. Walking through the site, you become aware of how isolation was part of its purpose. The monastery was meant for contemplation and endurance. Today, the location still feels exposed and fragile, both physically and politically, sitting near a contested border. David Gareja leaves a strong impression through its scale, emptiness, and the sense of devotion embedded directly into the landscape.
Food is one of the most immediate ways Georgia makes an impression. The diet is filling, practical, clearly shaped by geography and tradition and for me, I could see the Russian effect. Bread, cheese, meat, vegetables, herbs, walnuts, and wine appear again and again in different forms, but the national bread, shotis puri, is unforgettable. OMG! So delish. It is baked in a stone oven and comes out long, thin, and blistered, often still warm when you buy it. It is sold everywhere and eaten constantly, torn by hand rather than sliced. It sounds simple, but it is genuinely delicious, with a smoky crust and soft interior that makes it hard to stop eating. However, Khachapuri is the Georgian bread dish with cheese and egg that people tend to remember most vividly, including me! The most well-known version is the Adjarian style, shaped like a boat, with soft bread forming a rim around a center filled with melted cheese, butter, and a lightly cooked egg on top. When it arrives, the egg is usually still runny, and you mix it into the hot cheese yourself, creating a rich, creamy filling that you scoop up by tearing off pieces of the bread. The cheese is traditionally local, mild and slightly salty, chosen because it melts smoothly rather than overpowering the dish. It’s eaten by hand, without ceremony, and feels both indulgent and practical at the same time. Khachapuri is common across Georgia, found in bakeries, restaurants, and homes, and it works as a meal at any time of day. It reflects the broader Georgian approach to food: generous, filling, and meant to be enjoyed slowly, often shared, and remembered long after the plate is empty.Meals in Georgia tend to be generous and social. Even when you are not part of a big group, you feel that food is meant to be shared. Cheese-filled breads, dumplings, grilled meats, and vegetable dishes all appear regularly. The food feels rooted rather than fussy, designed to sustain people who live in a mountainous country with cold winters and long histories of self-reliance.
The Georgian language is completely separate from Russian and uses its own alphabet, which looks decorative and complex at first glance. I dont speak Georgian, but I can read Russian and speak a little so I relied on this to get by, especially with older people. Many people understood Russian, but Georgian was always present, on signs, in conversations, on television. You could sense how important it was to maintain it, especially after the Soviet period, when Russian dominated public life.
I stayed in a house that also functioned as a hostel, run by an owner who spoke no English at all. Only Russian and Georgian. Communication was basic but workable with a mix of Russian, gestures, and context. The hospitality was straightforward and sincere, without performance.
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Uplistsikhe
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One practical detail that stood out was the visitor visa with Georgia allowing a stay for up to 365 days, a full year!? That kind of openness is rare and says something about how the country positions itself. It invites people not just to pass through, but to stay, settle temporarily, and see what daily life looks like.
Georgia is a very beautiful country, mountains , open valleys, old structures that sit comfortably in the landscape rather than dominating it. Things are not always smooth or efficient, but they are real. You notice details while wandering: old cars, improvised repairs, mismatched buildings, views that stop you without warning.
I highly recommend Georgia, for so many reasons. Its easy to get around and has a lot to show of itself!
