Handpicked experience · Tblisi
Tblisi, Georgia
A hill that a Russian romantic poem was set on, dumplings whose knots you leave uneaten and counted, a table run by an elected toastmaster, and bread shaped like a boat.
A ridge church above the point where two rivers meet
A cathedral that crowned and buried a dynasty
The capital's old lanes covered at walking pace with someone explaining them
A proper meal at a table, built into the middle of the day
An eight-hour private day covering Mtskheta and Tbilisi with a guide and a driver: the hilltop church above the river confluence, the cathedral below it, a walk through the old quarter of the capital, and a sit-down Georgian lunch in the middle.
Short drives, easy walking and a long meal. Because it is private, the balance shifts to whatever you want more of. The lunch is a real stop rather than a sandwich in transit, which is worth knowing when planning the afternoon.
The sixth-century church above the meeting of the two rivers is the setting of Mtsyri, a long poem by Lermontov about a boy raised in a monastery who escapes into the mountains and cannot find his way home. It is one of the best-known works of Russian romanticism and it is set precisely here, on the ridge you are standing on, looking at the view described in its opening lines.
Khinkali are soup dumplings gathered into a thick doughy knot at the top. The knot is a handle, not food: you hold it, bite the side, drink the broth, eat the rest and leave the knot behind. The stack of discarded knots at the end of the meal is how many you have eaten, and people do count. Eating one with a fork, or eating the knot, marks you out immediately.
A full Georgian table runs under a toastmaster, the tamada, who proposes toasts in a set sequence — to peace, to the dead, to family, to those absent — with everyone drinking after each and nobody drinking outside them. It is not a free-for-all with wine, but a structure, and the role is taken seriously enough that a good tamada is talked about afterwards.
Khachapuri comes in regional forms, and the one from the Black Sea coast arrives as an open boat of dough filled with cheese, with a raw egg and butter dropped into the middle at the table. You stir them through the hot cheese yourself, then tear off the pointed ends and use them to scoop. Being served it and waiting for cutlery is a mistake with a very short shelf life.
Monument entry, the cable car and anything beyond the included lunch are settled separately. The old quarter is cobbled and hilly, and the hilltop church is exposed to the wind. Cancellation is free up to a day ahead.
Open it to pick a date and work out the price.
What the fare covers, and what to budget for separately.
The practical detail, and the answers people actually ask for.
Eight hours split between the old royal town, the capital's historic quarter and a sit-down lunch, with short drives between them. Being private, the weighting can shift as you like.
Mtsyri, by Lermontov — a long romantic poem about a boy raised in a monastery who escapes into the mountains. It is set on this exact ridge, above the meeting of the two rivers.
By hand. Hold the thick knot at the top, bite the side, drink the broth first, then eat the rest and leave the knot on the plate. The pile of knots is the count of how many you had.
Not rude so much as revealing — it marks you instantly as someone who has not done this before. The same goes for using a fork.
The toastmaster of a Georgian table. Toasts follow a set sequence — peace, the dead, family, the absent — everyone drinks after each, and nobody drinks between them.
Adjarian khachapuri, from the Black Sea coast: an open boat of dough filled with cheese, with a raw egg and butter added at the table and stirred through while it is still hot.
No — monument entry and the cable car are separate, as is anything beyond the lunch that comes with the day.