Nearly Neutral Travel

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.

Svaneti is a mountainous region in northern Georgia, famous for its natural beauty, defensive towers, and distinct culture and language. Putting these three together make Svan towns popular destinations in themselves, as well as a great base for hiking in the summer and skiing in the winter. Svaneti had its first snowfall of the year while we were sheltering from the rain in Batumi, which meant the surrounding mountains were already topped with perfectly white crowns, glistening in the autumn sun. We had two full days in Svaneti, both of which we spent exploring the mountains on foot.

Our route to Mestia (the main town in Upper Svaneti) started with a 1 hour pre-breakfast walk through Batumi, accompanied for most of the route by a dog friend that we picked up on the way. At first we were more than a little apprehensive, but he was happy to trot a good distance beside us for company and on the off-chance of a bit of food.

From Batumi’s bus station, it took about six and a half hours split across two marshruktas before we finally arrived in Mestia. We passed some absolutely epic scenery on the road through the mountains, with Sara opting to sleep rather than look out of the window of our slightly-faster-than-comfortable ride.

Day 1: Hike to the Cross Over Mestia

We woke the next morning to clear skies and views of snowy peaks from our guesthouse window.

For our first day hike, we chose to walk up to The Cross Above Mestia, which is basically a viewpoint on top of the nearest mountain. Although only 5.5 km in horizontal distance, this hike also involved 800m of elevation gain. The cobbled road rose steeply out of the town, gradually turning into a dirt track, before meeting a rocky footpath that snaked up the mountain through the trees. With a climb so steep, there were plenty of opportunities for us to pretend to take in the views while catching our breath.

While the climb itself was pretty hot in the morning sun, as we approached the summit we were met with a very welcome cool breeze. Next to the cross was a covered wooden platform reached by a ladder that provided the perfect spot to enjoy our lunch of chocolate spread sandwiches and oranges (a truly inspired pairing).

As we got up to leave, one of the resident platform dogs also stood up and stretched, before taking the lead on our descent down the mountain. He’d happily trot on ahead, then just as we thought he’d left us, he’d be waiting around the next turn. He was a very affable chap, and we named him Timmy. The three of us stopped at a viewpoint near the bottom of the mountain allowing another group of hikers to catch up with us. They remarked how cute our dog was, and I replied how he’d been a loyal friend, at which point he deserted us and followed the other group down to the village.

Day 2: Zhamushi to Mestia

The following day we took a taxi to Zhamushi with the plan to walk the first stretch of the famous 4 day path from Mestia to Ushguli (but in reverse). However, not only did our taxi driver not fancy driving up the dirt road to Zhamushi (somewhat understandably, we realised later when we walked it), he also claimed not to have any change when we tried to pay. We both checked our wallets thoroughly which didn’t resolve anything, and proceeded to sit there for a few minutes at a bit of an impasse. The taxi driver even piled on some further pressure by flagging down a passing car under the pretence of helping to make change. It was only when I insisted on walking up the (unbeknownst to me quite steep) hill to Zhamushi to split our note, that our driver finally remembered that he did have change after all. You’ve gotta respect the theatre involved in his negotiation though – we were there a good 10 minutes.

With the correct fare paid, we began the bonus 200m of ascent that I’d hoped to avoid via our taxi ride, and put the whole affair behind us. The rest of our planned hike was quite different to the first day, with a steady 200m of ascent followed by a gradual 500m of descent into Mestia, all the while traversing a couple of mountains via a 9.5km path.

We stopped for lunch at another dramatic viewpoint for round two of our chocolate-orange extravaganza. It felt like we had the whole valley to ourselves, until another couple of hikers turned up, along with the obligatory stray dog who had decided they were now friends for life. He was very happy to pose in return for little of our lunch.

Svan cuisine

While it’s not like us to return to the same restaurant, we ended up eating at Cafe Laila two nights running, and at no point did it disappoint.

The star of the show was the Kubdari – Svaneti’s national dish (on the left of the above photo). The large circular flatbread consisted of two layers of soft dough wrapped around small chunks of intensely seasoned steak, herbs and onion. The flavour definitely reminded us of something, but neither of us could put our finger on exactly what. Either way, it was totally delicious.

Next up was Ojakuri – a typical dish shared during a family meal (in the foreground of the photo). This was made up of pork, potatoes, onion, a generous amount of garlic and white wine, topped with pomegranite seeds, which Sara elegantly described as “the perfect symphony of flavour” (although she was well into the homemade wine by this point).

Finally, the pot in the middle of the photo was Lobio Kotanshi – a salty bean and coriander stew. While this dish didn’t change our life, it complemented the other headliners very nicely indeed.

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Mestia (and Svaneti) certainly grew on us throughout our stay. While Mestia is far from easily accessible, the rewards for the journey more than justify the effort. I’m really glad we’ve been able to explore this part of Georgia so far from its capital city.

Our next stop will be Kutaisi – Georgia’s third largest city, and one of the oldest continuously inhabited sites in Europe.