Category: Georgia

Borjomi, also known as the pearl of the Caucasus, is a small resort town in central Georgia. It’s well known throughout ex-Soviet countries for its natural mineral water springs, which are said to have many healing properties, and it’s a popular bottled drink throughout the region. We stayed two nights here, which gave us one full day to make the most of Borjomi’s offerings.

Most of Borjomi’s sites are situated in a gorge cut between the mountains by the Borjomula river. The river is criss-crossed by a number of bridges, including the one below, which also featured a charming guard who inspected passers by between naps in the sun.

From the bridge, we continued upstream, passing countless market stalls and some impressively ornate architecture. This is where the fancier resort hotels are located, but alas it was a little walk for us from the main town centre.

Arriving in Borjomi’s Central Park, we were greeted by some very well sculpted gardens, and the source of the town’s fame – a water fountain created from one of the gorge’s many natural springs. We quickly downed one of our bottles of tap water to create an empty vessel, and Sara went to fill it up.

She subsequently tried it and pulled a face, before handing it to me. It was certainly an acquired taste – warm, subtly carbonated, sweet and salty on the palette with an eggy aftertaste. Just what I needed to settle my stomach.

Not wanting to waste it, Sara kept the Borjomi water in her bottle for several days after this. She insisted that she was drinking and enjoying it, while in reality getting increasingly dehydrated.

We continued through the park past what is apparently the “most extensive ecologically-themed amusement park in the Caucasus.” You can’t argue with that! However, each of the rides was motionless, with many under covers already. I guess we’re well into shoulder season now, and we’d seen plenty of photos of the town under snow in the winter. Still, we amused ourselves on anything that wasn’t bolted down.

Continuing further upstream, the fairground rides ran out leaving just a path beside the river, which produced a constant and soothing accompaniment of white noise as we walked. The path weaved its way across over the river via a series of increasingly rotten bridges, on which old and broken slats had been covered up by new wood, giving them a patchwork appearance.

Eventually, after some back and forth (we were under some confusion – no change there), we arrived at our destination – a trio of hot (well, warm-ish) pools filled from the mountain’s famous springs. Similar to the fountain, these also gave off a pungent sulphur smell, but were just mild enough in temperature to encourage us in for a short wallow. Much like drinking the water, soaking in the pools is supposed to cure some motor and nerve-related ailments, along with pretty much everything else. An information board aroused our suspicions when it described the pools as being highly effective at curing symptoms that were already in remission. Hmmmm.

Upon exiting the park, we couldn’t pass up the chance to ride yet another cable car. This one took us back over the park, and up to the top of a cliff overlooking the gorge along with the rest of the Borjomi.

Sara assured me that it wasn’t anywhere near as shonky as the one she rode a few days earlier in Kutaisi, although its departure from the lower station was slightly more violent.

We were met at the top by yet another rusting Ferris wheel, although this one didn’t look like it had seen any visitors in quite a while. Not wishing to push our luck any further, we opted to walk back down to the park via a highly educational nature trail. This was all fun and games until we spotted a snake rustling through the bushes next to path, prompting a rendition of Sara’s famous “Snakey watch, Spider watch” song (memorable for her bold attempt to rhyme ‘watch’ and ‘forest’), as we hurriedly descended back to the relative safety of the central park.

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All in all, Borjomi provided a very enjoyable mountain retreat en route to Georgia’s capital, Tbilisi. Still, we were also excited to return to the modern luxuries of a big city, such as craft beer and Airbnbs with washing machines.

Just a few miles from Kutaisi is the spa town of Tskaltubo. Although it’s still a living, breathing town, it’s best known for its many crumbling sanatoria, bath houses, spas and hotels. The town exploded during the Soviet years as a place to come for rest, relaxation and healing, thanks to its waters of immortality that were used in balneotherapy. At the peak of its popularity, there was even a direct train from Moscow. Although a couple of the bath houses and resorts are still in use or have been renovated, many were abandoned after the fall of the Soviet Union and have since fallen victim to the elements, making them ripe for exploration.

The most photographed one

Sanatorium Iveria was the first spa we explored, and what a place to start. The building was crumbling, completely uninhabited and mostly stripped of all its interiors, but there were still some signs of how opulent it would have been, with ornate cornicing and ceiling roses still intact. We climbed the stairs to explore further and were very careful not to stray too close to the edge of the atrium, which we think would have housed a huge chandelier but was now completely open. Further inside, we found what would have been bedrooms, tiled treatment rooms and a huge space that looked like a ballroom.

The one with Stalin’s private bathing room

Bathhouse No. 6 was the only one we visited that is still open and offering treatments. It’s also where Stalin had his own private bathing room. We’d read that it was virtually impossible to get access to Stalin’s room but that it might be worth asking (or begging) nicely. Neither of us particularly wanted the awkwardness of being refused, but it seemed silly not to ask when we were already standing in the lobby, so imagine our surprise when they waved us through with a smile! It was pretty cool and we were left alone to admire the mosaics (and to peek into other treatment rooms on our way there and back).

The one with all the wedding photographs

We upped the ‘intrepid explorer’ ante a bit at Sanatorium Medea by approaching (along with our usual dog friend/guide who had joined us for the afternoon) via a very overgrown path that led to the back of the sanatorium. At least this meant we got a few minutes of exploring to ourselves, because this was by far the busiest site we visited. We’d read that it was a popular place to have wedding photographs taken but we were still a bit surprised to actually see a wedding party around while we were there. I don’t blame them though – it was pretty cool (although I hope the bride got less bitten by mosquitos than I did…)

The ones where wild dogs chased us away

Finally, there were a couple of sanatoria that we wanted to visit but where the resident dogs had other ideas. We decided not to mess with them!

The first was Sanatorium Tbilisi, which had a totally spectacular exterior. However, we’d read that much of the building was inhabited by internally displaced persons from the conflict in Abkhazia. We didn’t want to pry, given these are people’s homes, so we weren’t so sad not to go inside.

The second time this happened, we were a bit more disappointed. We’d read on Wander Lush’s excellent guide that Sanatorium Metalurgist was her top fave to explore because it was so beautifully preserved. We’ll just have to satisfy ourselves with the pictures we saw on her blog, which as an aside, I would highly recommend if you’re planning a trip to Georgia. Much more professional than our ramblings 😉

We only saw a fraction of what there was to see in the area, but it was a fascinating afternoon and totally different to anything else we’ve done on our trip so far. Our next stop was Borjomi, another spa town (we are on a roll) around two and a half hours south-east of Kutaisi.

Our first full day in Kutaisi was a gorgeous day – around 30 degrees, with a bright blue sky and the soft sunlight of early autumn making the leaves look even more golden. Unfortunately, Oli was unwell and I was feeling like a ticking time bomb because we’d eaten all the same things, but while I still had my health (dramatic!), I decided to get out and explore.

My first stop was to a bakery, where I picked up a lobiani (flatbread filled with crushed kidney beans) for lunch.

I could fool myself that this was somewhat virtuous choice, what with all the cheese products available in Georgian cuisine, but the sheer butteriness of the bread gave away that this probably wasn’t a health food! Undeterred, it was time for lunch pud, and I headed to the freezer counter of the local supermarket to get a Milka choc ice to eat in Kutaisi Park. With no one to check for me, I spent the rest of the day wondering how much melted chocolate I had around my mouth.

In and around the park, I saw the 9th April Memorial (remembering those killed and injured during Georgian independence demonstrations in 1989), the famous Colchis Fountain (which looked rather less spectacular than usual as it was being cleaned) and a sculpture of the Sisters Ishkhneli (a family who formed a Georgian folk quartet in 1941).

My next destination was Bagrati Cathedral, set on a hill overlooking the city. I walked up the hill via a winding road lined with traditional houses with ornate wooden verandahs. When I wasn’t leaping out of the way of passing cars on the hairpin bends, I could have been in a village. The cathedral was really striking against the bright blue sky, but even to my untrained eye, there looked to be very little of the original building remaining. Indeed, I read that UNESCO had removed the cathedral from their list of world heritage sites in 2017 because of the level of reconstruction that had taken place.

The best part was probably the view over the city, and the fact that there appeared to be a constant stream of wedding parties arriving and leaving. No sooner had one party left in a blaze of fancy dresses, dogs in tutus (really) and beeping horns, another group would arrive. It wasn’t totally clear whether they were actually attending services in the cathedral or just taking many, many photos outside, but either way it was brilliant people-watching. I found a shady spot to watch the action and plan my next move.

Earlier in the day, I’d seen the top of a Ferris wheel through trees, so in the hope that more of my rusting Soviet fairground dreams would be realised, I decided to head there next. I got a bit sidetracked on the way – just a few minutes from the cathedral was St George’s church, which I discovered hidden down a peaceful side street behind wrought iron gates covered in flowers. It felt like entering the Secret Garden, complete with overgrown graves, glimpses of the city view and a resident sleepy dog.

That is, it felt like the Secret Garden until a motorcade of beeping cars also turned up there for a wedding. I had been enjoying the peace, so I left and wandered down Kazbegi Street, peeking behind decorative gates at houses covered in grapevines and watching as lizards popped back into their hiding places on a sunny wall as I passed.

When I finally reached the amusement park, it was everything I’d hoped it would be. There were only a few other people around and the atmosphere was as eerie as it could possibly be on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The rides were lying dormant and were only started up on demand, accompanied by the sound of screeching metal echoing around the park.

I wandered around, took some photos and was about to head back to the apartment when I suddenly decided that I’d be missing out if I didn’t go on the Ferris wheel. I regretted it almost immediately – somehow I suspect that the bargain 2 lari (approx. 60 pence) token was not being put towards maintenance! The tiny carriage rocked violently as I stepped into it, and the chap manning the ride didn’t even bother to put the safety chain across the opening. The more chance I had to inspect my surroundings, the more rust I noticed, but the worst part was when the minature train in the park below creaked into life just as I reached the top. For a terrible moment, I thought that the noise had come from the Ferris wheel and that I was a goner! There was a spectacular view of the city from the top, but mostly I was just extremely relieved to be on my way down again.

After this excitement, I took a cable car across the river back to our apartment. In normal circumstances, I think this would also have been in quite worrying condition, but it was beautifully maintained in comparison to the Ferris wheel so I hopped in happily and was back at our apartment in no time.

The next day, Oli was feeling well enough to join me again, and we headed to Tskaltubo to explore some fascinating Soviet-era sanatoria.