Handpicked experience · Tblisi
Tblisi, Georgia
A capital named after warm water, bathhouses buried under their own domes, a fortress finished off by an earthquake, and wine fermented in buried clay for eight millennia.
A ridge-top view over the river, reached without the climb
A district where the architecture is mostly below your feet
Pours of wine from grapes grown almost nowhere else
Bread taken off an oven wall in front of you
Four hours on foot through the old town of Tbilisi with a guide, using the cable car up to the fortress ridge, and taking in the sulphur bath district, the churches above the river, a wine tasting and a stop at a bakery.
A walk of moderate effort — the old town is built on a slope and the lanes are cobbled and uneven — with the steepest climb handled by the cable car rather than your legs. The tastings are built into the route rather than bolted on at the end. It is a compact introduction to the city centre, and everything on it is within a few streets of everything else.
Tbili means warm in Georgian. The name refers to the hot springs the city was founded on, and the founding story has a fifth-century king hunting here when his bird fell into a steaming pool. Where the water surfaces is not a coincidence of geology anyone had to look for: it comes out of the ground at over forty degrees, sulphurous and ready to use, which is the whole reason a capital ended up on this particular bend of the river.
In the bath district the buildings are underground, so what you walk among at street level is a field of low brick domes with steam coming out of them. The chambers below are vaulted and tiled, fed directly by the springs with no heating of any kind. Entry to the baths themselves is arranged separately from this walk.
The fortress on the ridge has been fortified since the fourth century and was rebuilt repeatedly, most substantially during the three centuries when an Arab emirate governed the city. It survived all of that. What ruined it was 1827, when an earthquake set off the gunpowder stored inside, taking out much of the upper structure in a single afternoon.
Georgia has the oldest evidence of winemaking anywhere — residue in pottery dating back around eight thousand years — and the traditional method is still in use: fermentation in a qvevri, a large clay vessel buried to the neck in the ground, where temperature stays steady without intervention. There are several hundred indigenous grape varieties here, most of which have never been planted anywhere else.
The bakery stop uses a tone, a clay oven shaped like a well and sunk into the floor. Dough is slapped directly onto the hot inner wall and peeled off when it blisters, which is why the loaves come out curved and blackened along one edge. The baker spends the day bent over the mouth of it.
You meet in the old town rather than being collected. The route involves slopes, steps and cobbles throughout. Bath entry, museum admissions and anything beyond the included tastings are separate. 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.
Moderate. The old town sits on a slope with cobbled, uneven lanes, but the steepest ascent is done by cable car rather than on foot.
It comes from the Georgian word for warm, after the hot springs the city grew around. They surface at over forty degrees, sulphurous and usable without any heating.
Because they are underground. At street level you walk among low brick domes with steam escaping from them; the vaulted, tiled chambers are below, fed straight from the springs.
No — bathing is arranged separately. This walk passes through the district and explains it rather than booking you a room.
An earthquake in 1827 set off gunpowder stored inside, destroying much of the upper structure in one afternoon. It had survived centuries of sieges before that, including three under an Arab emirate.
A large clay vessel buried up to its neck, used for fermenting wine in Georgia for around eight thousand years. The earth keeps the temperature steady without any intervention.
In a tone — a well-shaped clay oven set into the floor. Dough is slapped onto the hot inner wall and peeled off when it blisters, which gives the loaves their curve and their scorched edge.