Georgia: what to see and when to go

The Georgian alphabet looks like someone drew smoke with a steady hand — loops and curls that spell words no other language shares. You'll see it on shopfronts in Tbilisi within minutes of arriving, above bakeries pushing out hot lobiani and beside old wooden balconies sagging over the Mtkvari river. This is a country wedged between the Caucasus peaks and the Black Sea, and it does not feel quite like Europe or Asia. It feels like Georgia, which is the whole point.

What Georgia is actually like

Forget the idea of a tidy, packaged destination. Georgia is gloriously unpolished. Tbilisi mixes crumbling Art Nouveau facades with Soviet concrete and glass bridges that locals openly mock. Sulphur baths steam under brick domes in the old town. Traffic is aggressive, pavements are uneven, and stray dogs — most tagged and vaccinated — nap in the sun.

What holds it together is hospitality, and that's not a cliché here. A stranger will pour you wine before asking your name. The supra, the traditional feast, is a genuine institution, run by a toastmaster called the tamada who steers the table through long, sincere toasts. If you're invited to one, cancel your other plans.

Where to go in Georgia

Tbilisi is the obvious base and worth several days. Wander the old town, ride the cable car up to Narikala fortress, then get lost in the wine bars and courtyard cafés of the reviving backstreets. It suits anyone who likes their cities layered and a little chaotic.

Kakheti, east of the capital, is wine country — and Georgia has been making wine in clay qvevri buried underground for thousands of years, long before French châteaux existed. Base yourself in Sighnaghi, a walled hilltop town looking over the Alazani valley toward the mountains. Ideal for slow days and cellar visits.

Kazbegi (Stepantsminda) is the postcard everyone chases: Gergeti Trinity Church on its lonely ridge with the glacier of Mount Kazbek behind. The drive up the Georgian Military Highway is spectacular and genuinely nerve-testing. Go for the mountains, not for comfort.

Svaneti, in the far northwest, is the wild card — medieval stone defence towers, glacier valleys, and villages that held out against every invader. Reaching Mestia and Ushguli takes effort and a strong stomach for switchback roads, but hikers rate it above everything else in the country.

Batumi, on the Black Sea coast, is the strange one: a subtropical resort town of casinos, half-built towers and palm-lined promenade. It divides people. Some love the brashness; others use it only as a gateway to the green Adjaran hinterland.

When to visit

Late spring, roughly May and June, is the sweet spot: green valleys, wildflowers, warm days without the summer haze. September and October are arguably better still — the grape harvest (rtveli) fills Kakheti with activity, and the light turns golden.

July and August are hot and busy in Tbilisi and sweaty on the coast, though the mountains stay pleasant and are at their most accessible. Winter is for skiers, who head to Gudauri; the mountain roads to Kazbegi and Svaneti can close or turn treacherous, so don't plan remote trips then.

What first-time visitors get wrong

They underestimate the distances and the roads. Georgia looks small, but mountain routes are slow and winding, and a drive that reads as three hours can eat a whole day. Build in slack.

They also cram Tbilisi into a single day and rush to the mountains. The capital rewards lingering. And many arrive assuming everyone speaks English — younger people often do, older Georgians lean Russian, and a few words of Georgian (gaumarjos, the toast, and madloba, thank you) will open doors.

One more: pace yourself with the wine and the chacha, the local grape spirit that appears near the end of every supra. It's stronger than it tastes, and refusing a toast is considered rude, so learn to sip.

What to eat

Georgian food deserves the trip on its own. Khachapuri is the headline — a boat of bread filled with molten cheese, topped with butter and a raw egg in the Adjarian version. Khinkali are fat, twisted dumplings filled with spiced meat and hot broth; grip the knotted top, bite a hole, drink the juice, then eat the rest and leave the knot on your plate.

Beyond that, look for lobio (slow-cooked beans in a clay pot), badrijani (walnut-stuffed aubergine rolls), and pkhali, vegetable pâtés bright with garlic and coriander. Wash it down with amber-hued qvevri wine, tannic and unlike anything mass-produced. And find a bakery selling bread straight from a tone, the well-shaped clay oven, still warm enough to burn your fingers.