Khinkali and khachapuri: my first taste of Georgia (Day 1)
Landing in Tbilisi was a surreal experience. It’s a truly unusual place to land. Imagine landing in Tatooine from Star Wars, but add a little bit of green, and a river running through the center of the city. It was difficult to understand how this place could look both arid and lush at the same time, but like I said before, Georgia is a country of contradiction. There were Soviet bloc buildings, but then architectural elements that were much more reminiscent of Turkey. It was immediately a sight to behold.
Like most places in the world (except the USA), you could exit the front and back of the plane (can we get on that America? The boarding and deplaning processes would be so much quicker). And as we walked through the door and started down the stairs, the landscape was what you might expect Mars to look like in a couple thousand years. It was mountainous, windswept, a few trees, and hazy air. Perhaps a more terraformed version of Tatooine, as I mentioned earlier.
We proceeded inside the terminal, and it was quite nice – modern and comfortable. After a very easy stamp at immigration (Americans can stay in Georgia visa-free for 12 months), we headed to the car hire counter. I was renting with Avis, and there was one woman working the counter. The process was actually easier than at most airports in the USA, and after signing a few documents that she was able to explain quite well, as her English was excellent – much better than my non-existent Georgian, she walked us out of the airport and to our car. To my delight, it was a car I’d never driven, a Renault Stepway – I’m always thrilled to drive cars that we don’t have in the USA.
Our plan was to drive to Gori, a small city northwest of Tbilisi, roughly an hour and half away. My phone was working thanks to Google Fi, giving me data around the world, so Google Maps was good to go. Leaving the airport was easy, and Google directed us to take the Tbilisi bypass (E60 or Georgian Highway 9). I quickly discovered that the primarily strict highway laws in the USA did not apply here, and it was like being in the Wild, Wild West (or Wild, Wild East, from my perspective). The two-lane road cut through immense green-brown fields with light green mountains on both sides. There were old farm trucks and huge hulking dump trucks that had a distinctly Soviet look – it’s hard to describe, but they are clearly not American-made trucks.
As we continued along, the traffic was light, and we were climbing up a long, long hill. At the summit, there were sweeping views of the Tbilisi suburbs, and as we started down the hills, there were stretches of road construction where the pavement abruptly ended, and large, chunky gravel segments caused huge plumes of dust to fly, as unfazed Georgian drivers rarely slowed down. At one point, I noticed cars ahead were actually slowing down, and once I stopped, we were soon surrounded by what seemed like thousands of sheep. Even though this was a major highway, the shepherds simply took these sheep right down the middle of the road. We opened the windows to hear the gentle voice of the sheep as they walked right against the car. After about 5 minutes, they all cleared, and we continued down the road.
At Mtskheta, we merged onto a larger, divided highway, traveling northwest along the Aragvi River. The E60 highway was like any good highway in the USA or Europe, but upon closer inspection of the map, I later realized that we were driving just a stone’s throw from South Ossetia, the breakaway republic. While there were not active skirmishes, I certainly wouldn’t want to take a wrong turn.
After about an hour, as the sun was setting in a purple / gray / brown haze, we reached the Gori exit. Even though the city was relatively small, we were traveling along wide boulevards through the city center.
We arrived at our “home” for the night, the Royal House Hotel, and we parked just off the street, atop a culvert with a stream that flowed along the road. The Hotel was very clean and relatively new, even though some of the fixtures were a bit gaudy. The tile shone brightly when compared to the dark wood walls and ceilings. We were greeted by a polite, late middle-aged man who had the look and distinct smell of a long-time smoker. After a great deal of gesticulating and a back and forth in broken English, I showed my passport, and he led us upstairs to a nicely appointed room. It had two small twin beds in a small bedroom, a balcony, a small sofa and television, a kitchenette, and a neat bathroom with one of the spaceship-looking showers.
I give the hotel owner major kudos for attempting to communicate, and he really was so very helpful…as helpful as one can be when they don’t speak the same language, and sadly, we didn’t speak Russian or Georgian. He said “Is OK?,” and we said yes – so he gave us the key, and we were left to find dinner for the night.
Thanks to Google Maps, I found a couple nearby restaurants, but the one that most stood out was Berikoni, an easy 10 minute walk. On the way, we were able to get some Georgian Lari at an ATM, and we also noticed bill-pay kiosks that were everywhere – it looked like you could just pay any type of bill or utility at them. The restaurant was large and well-lit, located in a large curve on a major cobblestone street. We were seated in our own private booth, closed to the rest of the restaurant with saloon-style doors. Our server spoke English, and we immediately ordered a carafe of local wine. It was white, chilled and delicious!
I proceeded to order every dish I’d been told to try in Georgia. A year or so ago, Jimbo and I had also tried a Georgian restaurant in Prague, so we tried to remember some of the tasty things we had eaten then. I also used a travel blog that highlighted the best Georgian dishes. So, we ordered pkhali, which was a sampler of mounds of minced walnut, spinach, and beetroot topped with pomegranite; khinkali (a large dumpling filled with a juicy gravy and minced meat) – don’t eat the large pinched part – it’s impolite; a tasty dish of fried pork with fat and potatoes in a hot, cast iron skillet; and finally, the best part, khachapuri, a cheesy bread that almost looks like the cheesiest pizza you’ve ever seen. It’s INCREDIBLE. We still dream about it to this day.
The portions were enormous, and we made a valiant effort, leaving only a little bit of food. The huge feast with gratuity was roughly $8 USD each, a steal in my book. The restaurant is awesome, but keep in mind that it is lively, loud, and smoky, pulsing with Georgian music and cigarette smoke. To me, it really added to the charm of the place.
After walking a few blocks back to our hotel, we settled in for the night. Our plan for the next day was to visit the Stalin Museum, then drive across the entire country to the Black Sea. Perhaps I should have felt uneasy in the hometown of one of the most feared dictators of all time, but I felt that modern Georgian hospitality had hopefully transcended it’s dark past. So, for the night, I slept easy, and embraced Georgia as my home for the next few days.
