Tbilisi, Georgia: A Dialogue Between Old and New

The flight from Yerevan to Tbilisi took only 40 minutes, but stepping off the plane you know it’s a different country — signs change to Georgia’s unique Mkhedruli script, taxi drivers speak a different language you can’t understand at all, and even the supermarket yogurt packaging has a different name.

Tbilisi is the capital of Georgia. Its very name means “warm” — tbili — because of the sulfur hot springs that have been steaming here since the 5th century.

Old Town: Hills, Balconies, Churches

Narikala Fortress squats on the hilltop on the west bank of the Kura River, dating back to the 4th century, though what you see today is mostly 17th-century walls. Climb from the old town up narrow alleys and you’ll reach the summit in half an hour. Next to the walls stands the white Mother Georgia (Kartlis Deda) statue, erected in 2002 — one hand holds a wine cup, the other a sword, symbolizing this nation’s tradition of both hospitality and courage.

The most charming part of the old town is the cantilevered wooden balconies — centuries-old houses where owners have extended the second or even third floor out over the street on deeply carved wooden railings and eaves. Each balcony is unique: some painted sky-blue, some ochre, hanging against the grey stone walls like a string of ice cream cones.

The Sioni Cathedral and Anchiskhati Basilica are both in the old town center, just steps apart. The former is Georgia’s most important religious site, housing the Virgin Mary’s robe; the latter is a 6th-century building destroyed and rebuilt many times — the current version is a 1990s restoration.

The Sulfur Baths

Abanotubani (the sulfur bath district) is in the very center of the old town, where the Kura River bends. Round brick domes puff white steam, and the air smells faintly of rotten eggs — that’s the natural sulfur water from underground.

There are public baths and private rooms (priced at 20-50 GEL per hour). After soaking, you sit on the cool terrace with tea, and the old town of Tbilisi unfolds below you at dusk.

New Town: Glass, Metro, Modern Georgia

Cross the Bridge of Peace (2012) over the Kura and you’re in the new town. This steel-and-glass curved bridge lights up at night like the glowing skeleton of a whale.

Freedom Square is the new town’s heart — surrounded by Parliament, City Hall, the Marriott Hotel — Georgian sandstone facades wrapped around modern steel-and-glass interiors, an architectural treatment that manages to be both respectful and contemporary.

The metro is another surprise. Tbilisi has only two metro lines, but each station is like a small palace — walls of colored marble and enamel murals, some of the most romantic Soviet-era craftsmanship I’ve seen.

A City That Never Sleeps

Tbilisi has the longest nightlife of any city I’ve visited. At 11 PM the Mtatsminda funicular is still running; at 1 AM the bars outside Fabrika (a Soviet textile mill converted into a creative district) are still queuing up; at 3 AM the fish sellers under the bridge have already started the new day’s work.

It folds 1,500 years into glass-steel bridges, sulfur steam, colorful balconies, and a hilltop Mother Georgia. The morning I left at 4 AM I stood on the hotel balcony for a while; the old town across the river was dawn-painted pale violet. I think I’ll be back.