My Unforgettable Journey to Tbilisi, Georgia

As the story goes, the king was out hunting one day when his falcon caught a pheasant, but both the bird and the prey fell into a hot spring. When the king found them, the water was so hot that it had boiled the birds. Strangely fascinated by these natural springs, Vakhtang decided to build a city around them.

And that's how Tbilisi, whose name comes from the Georgian word "tbili," meaning warm, came to be. I had to check out the Sulfur Baths for myself, of course. Tbilisi’s Abanotubani district, where the baths are located, is exactly where the city was born.

You can still bathe in these ancient, dome-covered structures that bubble with naturally hot, mineral-rich waters. I took a dip and immediately felt my skin glow. Imagine a spa experience, but one that’s lasted for over 1,500 years.

I left the bathhouse looking slightly less like a stressed-out traveler and more like someone who had just found the fountain of youth.

Strolling through the city, I noticed how effortlessly it blends the ancient with the modern, the European with the Middle Eastern.

For example, Rustaveli Avenue, the city’s main thoroughfare, felt like a snapshot of Europe with its grand opera house, theaters, and chic cafes. But take a turn into the Old Town (which I highly recommend), and you’ll find narrow cobblestone streets lined with colorful, crumbling houses with wooden balconies—a scene that feels more like something out of a Persian fairy tale than a European capital.

I remember sipping on some strong Georgian coffee in a tiny café on Shardeni Street, gazing at the Narikala Fortress looming over the city on one side and the futuristic Bridge of Peace on the other. Tbilisi is a city where tradition and innovation sit side by side, and somehow it all works.

One minute you’re surrounded by ancient churches and fortresses, and the next, you’re walking across a modern glass bridge that looks like something out of a sci-fi movie.

One evening, I joined some locals for a traditional supra, or Georgian feast. Let me warn you, this isn’t just a meal; it’s a marathon of flavors. There was plate after plate of stews, grilled meats, fresh vegetables, and breads. And of course, wine—Georgian wine is legendary, and for good reason.

Fun fact: Georgia claims to be the birthplace of wine, with evidence of wine-making that dates back over 8,000 years. I may have had one too many glasses of Saperavi (a bold red), but when in Tbilisi, you’ve got to adopt the local customs, right?

The tamada, or toastmaster, made elaborate toasts throughout the evening. In Georgia, toasting is practically an art form, with each toast carrying deep meaning.

As we raised our glasses to everything from friendship to family, I realized how connected Georgians are to their traditions, and how welcoming they are to strangers. By the end of the night, I felt like I had been adopted by a new family.

I made a point to visit the Sioni Cathedral, one of Tbilisi’s most iconic landmarks, which dates back to the 6th century. Inside, the cathedral was filled with the soft glow of candles and the smell of incense, while an old man quietly prayed in the corner.

A short walk away, I found the Juma Mosque, where Sunni and Shia Muslims pray together—a rare sight in the world, but one that perfectly encapsulates Tbilisi’s spirit of tolerance and coexistence.

It was moments like these that made me realize Tbilisi isn’t just a place where different cultures exist—it’s a place where they thrive together in harmony. There’s an energy here that’s hard to describe but easy to feel: the kind of energy that only comes from centuries of shared history and experience.

I wandered down to the Fabrika, an old Soviet-era sewing factory turned hipster haven. This place had everything: graffiti-covered walls, art studios, and bars where you could drink cocktails served in mason jars (because, of course).

It’s where the cool kids of Tbilisi hang out, and for a brief moment, I felt like I was one of them—until I realized I was still wearing my tourist backpack.

The night ended at a bar that was tucked into a small alley. There was a live band playing Georgian folk music, and the bartender poured me a shot of chacha, Georgia’s answer to moonshine. I’m not going to lie; chacha is not for the faint of heart.

But as I sat there, feeling the warmth of the drink (and maybe the people, too), I knew I had found something special in Tbilisi—a city that’s not just warm because of its hot springs, but because of its spirit.

• Sulfur Baths in Abanotubani: Okay, first things first—you have to do the baths. Even if the idea of sitting in a bathhouse sounds weird to you, trust me, it’s an experience you won’t forget. The water is naturally hot and smells like, well, sulfur (it’s not as bad as it sounds). Afterward, your skin feels like you’ve just shaved off a decade of stress. I walked out of there feeling like a soft, relaxed version of myself. Kind of like a freshly boiled potato, in the best possible way.
• Wander Through the Old Town: Tbilisi’s Old Town is like stepping into another world. The narrow, twisty streets, the colorful, slightly crumbling houses with their wooden balconies—it’s a photographer’s dream. I loved just getting lost here. Every corner you turn, there’s something unexpected, whether it’s an ancient church or a café that smells like heaven.
• Narikala Fortress: If you’re into views that make you stop mid-sentence and go, “Wow,” then you’ve got to hike up to Narikala Fortress. Or, if you’re feeling lazy like I was after too much khachapuri, take the cable car. Either way, the views from up there? Insane. The whole city spreads out beneath you, with the Mtkvari River snaking through it.
• Sample Georgian Cuisine: Speaking of khachapuri (oh man, just thinking about it makes me hungry again), Georgian food is dangerously good. Try khinkali too—those dumplings filled with juicy goodness. Just be careful when you bite into one; I may or may not have splashed hot soup all over my face the first time.
• Dry Bridge Market: If you love random old stuff, this place is for you. It’s part flea market, part Soviet history lesson. I found old coins, funky Soviet posters, and some truly bizarre trinkets that I had to buy, even though I had no idea what I’d do with them.
• Wine Tasting: Georgia is the birthplace of wine, and I definitely indulged. You can’t walk two blocks without bumping into a wine bar, and you shouldn’t walk past without stopping in. My personal favorite was this little underground place where the walls were lined with dusty wine bottles—like a secret cave of deliciousness.
• Fabrika: Imagine an old Soviet sewing factory turned into the coolest hangout spot ever. It’s got everything—art galleries, bars, hostels, and creative people lounging around with their laptops. I went for a drink and ended up staying until the wee hours, chatting with locals and other travelers.

• Spring (April-May): Ah, springtime in Tbilisi. This is when I first visited, and let me tell you, the city feels like it’s waking up after a long nap. The air smells fresh, flowers are blooming everywhere, and you can walk around without melting in the heat. The weather is perfect for exploring the Old Town or hiking up to Mtatsminda Park without needing a gallon of water. Plus, it’s not as crowded yet, so you get that nice balance of atmosphere without feeling like you’re fighting tourists for space.
• Summer (June-August): Tbilisi in the summer is...well, let’s just say it’s hot. I’m talking sun-crackling, flip-flop-melting hot. But—and it’s a big but—the nightlife in summer is on another level. Fabrika’s outdoor bars, the rooftop terraces, the night markets—everyone’s out late because the city doesn’t really cool down until the sun sets. If you can handle the heat, it’s a great time to experience the vibrant energy of Tbilisi after dark. Just stay hydrated!
• Fall (September-October): If I had to pick one season to recommend, this would be it. Fall in Tbilisi is like magic. The leaves start turning golden, the air gets crisp, and the whole city feels like it's wrapped in this cozy, golden light. Plus, it’s harvest season, which means wine, wine, and more wine. The locals are celebrating, and there’s something in the air—an excitement. Tbilisoba, the city's huge harvest festival, happens in October. I accidentally stumbled upon it, and it was a whirlwind of food stalls, live music, and wine tastings. Definitely an “I love this city” moment for me.
• Winter (December-February): Winter is the quieter, more contemplative season in Tbilisi. It doesn’t get crazy cold, but it’s chilly enough to make cozying up in a café with a hot drink feel like the right move. There’s something really special about seeing Sameba Cathedral lit up against a cold night sky. If you visit during New Year’s and Christmas (which Georgians celebrate in January), you’ll catch the city in full festive mode, with twinkling lights everywhere and parades in the streets. Plus, it’s a great time to explore the local indoor markets without too many people around.