The Soviet Wine Tunnel of Georgia

The Khareba Wine Tunnel is an incredible 7.7-kilometer former Soviet nuclear bunker in the Alazani Valley, but navigating the two-and-a-half-hour drive from Tbilisi and the highly structured tourist activities—like a rushed churchkhela-making session—with a toddler requires knowing exactly how to get there and when to take a breather.

My son’s face crumpled as the rushed staff member prematurely grabbed the drying churchkhela from the rack and shoved it into a plastic bag, the juices clinging to the crumpled sides. We had barely returned from the bathroom, but the assembly line of Kakhetian cultural experiences stops for no one. While the Khareba Wine Tunnel in Kvareli is a must-see piece of Georgian history, the aggressively structured tourist experience surrounding it can easily push a kid past their tipping point.

The Soviet Nuclear Bunker Hiding in Plain Sight

Our tour guide repeatedly insisted the Soviets blasted 7.7 kilometers of solid rock into the Greater Caucasus foothills purely to store wine. But that seems like a lot of effort for some wine storage. The more likely reality is that the tunnel complex was built in the late 1950s by "Metrostroy," the exact same group of specialized engineers who were actively building the Tbilisi Metro. It was designed as a massive military air-raid shelter for the Cold War, buried deep enough to withstand serious bombardment.

Outside the Khareba Wine Cave

It turned out the engineering of the tunnels didn't hold to specs and they had discovered some water seepage. So the military stopped using it. Then some clever Georgian realized the natural conditions were identical to a perfect European wine cellar. The tunnels maintain a constant 12–14°C (54–57°F) year-round chill and hover around seventy percent humidity. That sounds cold (and it is!) but they offer blankets at the entrance.

In 1962, to coincide with the World Congress of Vine and Wine, it officially opened as an expansive wine storage facility. It was an incredibly pragmatic pivot for a failed nuclear bunker.

Baron Pierre Le Roux, President of the IOVW, tasting Georgian wine during the World Congress of Wine, 1962. For more photographs, check out: https://kolga.ge/artworks/photo-book

Today, Winery Khareba largely downplays that bunker history. Instead, they present the space as an ode to Soviet-era greatness that kind of reminded me of the Stalin museum (though not as dark, since we're talking about wine and not gulags). During the tour, the showed off a display of about twelve historical wine labels, which just covered the basics, Rkatsiteli, Saperavi, Khanchkara...

Wrapped in blankets listening to Soviet gloss

From what I've been told, the Soviets largely restricted the Georgian viticulture, opting to force producers into making only a few varietals on mass. Lesser known varietals remained at homes, but rarely for industrial-scale production. Nowadays, the climate is very different, with a kind of renaissance in Georgian winemaking culture. There's over a 100 endemic varieties of grapes here and Georgians have really embraced that variety with many of the new wines hitting the shelves.

Walking through those freezing, dimly lit tubes is still a profoundly unforgettable experience, even if the tour guide will not admit you are standing in a military shelter. They offer blankets at the entrance, which you will definitely need.

The Reality of the Kakheti Drive

Do not attempt to do Kvareli as a day trip from Tbilisi. The drive takes about two and a half hours under perfect conditions, but you have to factor in the reality of Georgian roads. You will be dodging wandering livestock, white-knuckling through aggressive passing maneuvers, and sitting in standard traffic jams. Take it easy like the Kakhetian locals. I recommend staying overnight in Kvareli at a spot like Villa Vitis, which gives you time to enjoy the Alazani Valley at a normal pace.

If you are driving yourself, you have two distinct options. The Kakheti Highway is the fastest, most direct route and the one the locals usually take when they need to get somewhere quickly. If you want a more scenic drive, you can take the Gombori Pass via Telavi. The Gombori route is beautiful and lush, with more than a few castles and monasteries to stop at, but it is incredibly twisty and slow. If your kid is prone to car sickness, stick to the highway.

If you prefer public transport, marshrutkas to Kvareli depart regularly from the Samgori metro station in Tbilisi. The ride takes around two hours and forty minutes and costs about 10 GEL (as of 2026). These minibuses naturally take the faster highway route, as they're kind of suicide mobiles whose drivers failed to make the cut in the Fast and Furious movie that filmed in Tbilisi.

The marshrutka ride is a bumpy but authentic way to cross the country. Plus you never know what you're going to get. I've ridden in some with chickens, stacks of watermelon, and all kinds of interesting things that create "the local experience".

It's not for everyone.

Churchkhela Chaos: The Assembly Line Tourist Trap

The grounds outside the bunker entrance are genuinely stunning. You have a beautiful recreational park situated right at the edge of the Alazani Valley, complete with a flowing river and an old Georgian water mill. The setting is perfect, but the activities themselves feel highly processed. Khareba knows they have a captive audience, and the experience reflects that reality.

Churchkhelas hanging to dry

You can pay 10 GEL just to walk the tunnel, or buy packages ranging up to 95 GEL. The premium packages include wine tasting, bread baking in a traditional tone oven, and making churchkhela. The problem is they skip the fun parts of the process. Instead of letting tourists string the walnuts themselves, they hand you a pre-strung stick to dip directly into the hot pelamushi grape mix.

Because it operates like an assembly line, the staff quickly push you along. We stepped away for a moment, and they didn't even wait for us to return before ripping my kid's sticky, unfinished churchkhela off the rack and bagging it, which just makes a sticky, unappetizing hot mess inside. That action triggered an immediate, nuclear toddler meltdown. To their credit, once we managed to calm him down, the front desk kindly gave him a free do-over. If you have kids under six, by the way, their admission is free, so it is still worth doing—just keep a close eye on the pacing and don't wander off.

Baking Bread and Escaping the Crowds

If you opt for the extended packages, you also get to participate in baking traditional Georgian shoti bread. They hand you pre-made dough balls, which you mush together and slap onto the hot interior wall of the clay tone (toneh) oven. It takes about ten minutes to bake. This is actually a great downtime moment. Maybe not suitable for younger kids, since they have to reach down inside the oven and slap it on the burning hot wall.

Bread cooking in the tone

During that ten-minute wait, we climbed up the Svaneti-style tower built on the grounds specifically for sightseeing. You can get a fantastic, quiet view of the sprawling Alazani Valley vineyards from there. It is a welcome break from the rush of the cultural activities below.

When we came back down, the bread was ready. Eating hot, fresh bread right out of the tone is one of the greatest simple joys in Georgia.

Just remember that you do not have to buy the premium package. You can build a custom package at the front desk to suit exactly what you want to do.

FAQs

Is the Khareba Wine Tunnel worth visiting with kids?

Yes. Kids under six get in free, and the sheer scale of the tunnel is fascinating for them. Just closely supervise any of the extra activities to avoid rushing and meltdowns.

How cold is the Khareba tunnel?

It stays at a constant 12–14°C (54–57°F) year-round. They offer blankets at the front, but you should still bring your own jacket, especially for kids.

How long does it take to get to Kvareli from Tbilisi?

It takes roughly two and a half hours by car or two hours and forty minutes by marshrutka from the Samgori metro station.

Can you visit without a wine tasting package?

Absolutely. The basic tunnel tour costs 10 GEL, and you can build your own custom package of activities if you do not want to drink wine.

The Khareba Wine Tunnel is an incredible slice of Soviet history wrapped in beautiful Kakhetian scenery. Go for the massive tunnels, enjoy the park, and try the wine. Just be prepared to manage the assembly-line pacing if you have young kids in tow. Stepping away when the rush gets too intense is the best way to save your sanity.

Check out the book, A Facetious Guide to Traveling with a Kid.

Mtatsminda: Soviet Relics and Deep-Fried Goodness

Mtatsminda Park is a high-altitude collision of Soviet-era remnants, bizarre carnival kitsch, and the best views in Tbilisi. Bring your camera for both absurd and epic views, your appetite for a deep-fried pastry, and your patience for the funicular pricing. One the better things to do in Tbilisi if you’ve got a kid, and without a doubt, the best view in the city.

I was up at GITA, Georgia’s Innovation and Technology Agency, for a meeting with the European Business Association, wondering if my friends money could find some source of sweet cash. There’s apparently some kind of European Union funding for innovative products that Georgians have access to, but they need to be fairly far along and super organized to get that. And given the government’s current fixation on Foreign Agents, I’m not entirely sure how that works, since by default, any innovative Georgian who might get access to free capital would then be considered under the influence of the EU, no? 

Maybe I’m wrong on that one. Would love some clarification. No one there seemed to know. 

Such is life in Georgia these days. 

Need to Know

• The Funicular: It’s 100 years old and has outlived every regime that tried to own it. The line to get up is long, soul-crushing, and totally normal.

• The Ponchiki: These deep-fried, custard-filled pastries are a Soviet-era necessity. If you don't eat at least two, were you even there?

• The History: This "Holy Mountain" was once the stomping ground of ascetics living in caves—until the Soviet elite decided they preferred dachas and amusement parks.

• The Strategy: Ride the funicular up to get the photo, then walk down the mountain to find the actual city.

Anyways, GITA has a fairly nice meeting facility. We occupied the one of the top rooms and the presentation layout was pretty great. I don’t think the campus is that big, but for smaller functions like the one we were having it was perfect. It’s only getting there that is a bit of a hassle. On Google maps, it’s listed as “Tech Park Georgia”, though Georgians will tell you GITA. Either you can drive/take a taxi, or take a bus, or do what I tried to do, take the funicular or gondola to Mtatsminda Park and walk 15 minutes (or taxi or bus).

Inside the cable car station at Rustaveli

I wanted to avoid a ride on the morning commute, packed in by hundreds of sweating students and bureaucrats on a collapsing metro system. Seriously, in Vake… it’s not that I don’t appreciate the upgrade on Chavchavadze. They took away one driving lane on each side, added a bus lane, and put the bus pickups in the middle. The whole thing looks like there could be tram there. But then they forgot to add busses. So of course, you take away car access, prioritize busses, and this all in turn increases the amount of people who would ride the bus. 

But then… 

You forget to add the busses. Come guys. 

So to get past the transit trap, I decided to take an interesting route. Since GITA is a bit outside of the city, just up the street from Mtatsminda Park, I decided to take a trip up the new gondola at Rustaveli. 

Except it didn’t function until 11:00 AM. I thought it would be open with the waking hours (because what a cool way to commute to work if you lived up there!) but no. I looked down to check Google Maps, to see if my Georgian was correct. Google Maps said 10. Well, someone was off. I wasn’t quite sure whether my 11:00 AM understanding was correct, or whoever wrote the Business Profile on Google Maps was (by the way, if you need help with that, contact me). 

I turned back to catch the bus to GITA, but just missed that bus. I jumped on the metro, sped through the underground rollercoaster, and was able to catch the bus at Freedom Square. The views going up on the bus were pretty amazing. I got off at GITA, but it is possible to take it all the way up to Mtatsminda if you would rather a bus.

From Mtatsminda to Amusement Kitsch

Before the Ferris wheel and the mirror mazes, this was "Holy Mountain." It was a sanctuary for one of the “13 Assyrian Fathers”,  who carved out a spiritual life in caves across the land back in the 6th century. Many of the holiest monasteries in the country are attributed to this collection of monks who came to preach the gospel, and there might have been more than 13. Some people believe they were actual Assyrians, others believe they were Georgians who studied in Assyria, but that’s besides the point. 

The view from Mtatsminda

One of the Assyrian Fathers, St. Davit Garejeli, was believed to have stayed in a cave on the side of the mountain overlooking the 6th century castle city, far outside the city gates of the time. He later moved on to found Davit Gareja in the desert mountains bordering Azerbaijan. But because he stayed in the cave there, the mountain became known as “Holy Mountain”, or Mtatsminda, and they built a church there, St. Davit, and a graveyard, as you do. 

You can get there by taking the funicular and stopping at the middle stop. If you don’t know it’s there, the middle stop just seems like an oddity, a place to get off for an adventurous hike or something.

Then came the Soviet era, which brought summer dachas for the Party elite—including the brutal architect of the NKVD and Tbilisi’s grand redesigner of Tbilisi into a “modern” city, Lavrentiy Beria. His dacha is a ruin now, a gritty reminder that even the most powerful monsters eventually lose their real estate to time and neglect. I hear it’s a beautiful building though.

An Amusement Park in Tbilisi

Now, Mtatsminda Park is unapologetically, wildly kitschy. It’s filled with rides that look like they’ve seen better days and wax figures that probably haunt the park after closing. There’s no clear theme to it, though there was a modest attempt to make it “Georgian folksy” or “Soviet Georgian folksy” or something, it’s hard to tell. 

The "main street" of Mtatsminda Park

First built in the 1930s by the Soviets, it has that weird “dead kid Communist” feeling that Soviet parks often have. I say “dead” because there’s always a ghost-town kind of sense of abandonment, even when they’re full up. They’re interesting to go to, especially in juxtaposition to the uber-Capitalist American versions like Six Flags or Disney World. But don’t expect anything remotely similar. They’ve got like one rollercoaster (“American mountain”) and a haunted car ride.

The fun house

In 2001, a local oligarch, Badri Patarkatsishvili, bought the place and attempted to modernize it. But ended up making it even more of a hodge podge place bringing in random second-hand carnival gear. I’ll write more about this interesting guy in the next blog, but he’s also the guy behind the famous, brutalist phallus building, the Wedding Palace. 

Badri had a falling out with then president Saakashvili, and died under mysterious circumstances in 2008. Just after, Saakashvili’s government swiped up the property. After lengthy court proceedings, they returned it tot he family though, under whose control it remains. 

It’s a great place to hit up if you have a kid, and maybe to enjoy a beer with a view, but otherwise probably not on the “must-see” list for Tbilisi. I mean, the gondola is cool and it’s probably the best view, but there’s a huge caveat there. Read on.

Eating at Mtatsminda

At the building I like to refer to as the Georgian Parthenon, which is propped at the top of the mountain and, well, looks like a Soviet take on the Parthenon, there is a dessert restaurant. They serve, allegedly, the best ponchiki in the city.

What’s a ponchiki, you ask?

The Georgian "Parthenon", on the other side, the ponchikerie

This was the USSR’s answer to the decadent, icing-topped bourgeois donut. The ponchiki is  simple, proletarian, and deep-fried; filled with some gooey sugar substance. Eat them while they’re hot and don’t worry about the calorie count. You’re not in Georgia to diet.

If you want something heavier to eat, there’s no reason to waste your wad on the restaurants at the funicular station. Just go there for the ponchiki. There’s a fast food court underneath the big radio tour. 

The Mtatsminda food court

And while I mention the radio tower, no, there’s no restaurant up there. It’s  just one of those big so-ugly-it’s-iconic radio towers that Communists loved to build. They got ‘em everywhere with hugely different looks, from here, to Moscow, to Riga, to Prague. This one looks so much like the Eiffel Tower that my kid refers to it as the “Tbilisi Eiffel Tower”. As I’m sure many kids do.

The Funicular and Cable Car

These are technically part of the park, and thus, not integrated with the metro card. You’ll have to buy a dedicated Mtatsminda Card at the kiosk, and you can charge that card up to also use on all the rides and attractions (but not the food). 

The Tbilisi cable car station

There’s something funky that goes on with the fees here, that I haven’t really worked out. But I’ll put it like this, if you’re a foreigner going to ride up, you’ll get charged 12 GEL one-way per person, plus 2 GEL for the card. But if you’re a Georgian or Georgian resident, it’s just 3 GEL for a ride. I went up to the window and paid for the three of us some 45 GEL, and then my wife realized how absurd that was and went up to yell at them. Telling them two of us are Georgian and one of us a resident, we were refunded 36 GEL. Nutso.

So if you’re going up there… go with a Georgian and let them pay for the ride. Buy them a beer up top. 

The view from the Tbilisi Mtatsminda Parthenon

The Walk Down

If you’re feeling a bit adventurous, you could walk down. There’s a trail that begins next to the gondola station. It takes a bunch of narrow switchbacks almost straight down, and then spits you out on Kakabadze Street, so still a hike down to Rustaveli from there, but from there it’s all pavement. You could alternative veer left and head to Barnovi Street in Vera, where there’s lot of little cafes and restaurants squeezed between crumbling Soviet blocks and modern ant towers.  

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Borjomi: Georgia’s Salty, Lukewarm, Soviet Spa Town Unfiltered

Planning a trip to Borjomi Georgia? Skip the sanitized, high-priced travel brochures. This unfiltered Borjomi travel guide covers how to survive the famous Soviet spa town Georgia keeps on life support, where to dodge overpriced hotel bars, and how to find the real historical reality behind the imperial myth—all based on a wild, muddy weekend getaway.

My friend Oskars and I went down to Borjomi the other weekend. It is always its own bizarre, surreal (in the post-apocalyptic sense) experience—a lush pine valley where you drink warm, fizzy Borjomi mineral water that tastes like a handful of wet copper pennies. It is the legendary hangover-killing magic of the Caucasus: but opening a bottle on a bumpy marshrutka ride is a highly combustible gamble that could leave your pants looking like you've been in a sweaty tin can.

This time, we were there on an overnight meetup with other European Business Association members (we were representing Developers Alliance). We were supposed to divide into groups, but mostly it was the accountants who showed up—so the stragglers separated off for their own walks and searches for booze. C’est la vie.

Oskars and I walking thru Borjomi Central Park

Key Points for Borjomi Travel

• The Ticket: The Borjomi Central Park entry fee is around 3 Lari, but if you have a key card from Crown Royal Palace, you can scan through the gates for free.

• The Hike: The Borjomi sulfur pools hike is a flat, 4-kilometer trek through the forest—keep an eye out for rogue Nivas kicking up mud on the path. There are changing booths at the pools.

• Pack Snacks: The small wooden cabins at the baths sell overpriced snacks and drinks; save your cash and pack your own khachapuri.

• The Local Beer: Skip the hotel lounges charging 19 Lari for a basic Argo; buy it at a corner kiosk for under 3 Lari instead.

The Imperial Hangover and the Romanovs

The travel brochures love to paint this valley as a pristine, aristocratic sanctuary "discovered" by the Russian Empire in the 1820s. Empires, of course, are always "discovering" things. Don’t get me started on that word. Of course people were already here, but also other people weren't. The mundane daily reality of one people might be a discovery for another.

Anyway, here is what actually happened: soldiers stationed in the valley to ward off the Ottoman found the springs, realized the bubbly water cured their heavy hangovers, and sent word up the chain of command.

Trying to cure my hangover

The Romanov royal family caught wind, moved in, built some European-looking palaces, and claimed they founded the place. Now, the grand Romanov palace Borjomi (that is, Likani Palace) is a centerpiece of local historical tours from across a fence, as it has been closed for some time due to "renovation".

But never mind that Georgians had been living in the valley for centuries, surrounded by a ring of medieval castles and monasteries. The only thing the Russian Empire actually invented here was the bottling plant—milking the natural spring for massive imperial profits. And not to mention it was all the rage back then to have a spa town in your empire, just like Spa in Belgium or the grand resorts in Austria. So Russia simply built its own version right here.

The Canal Walk and the "Cold" Spring

To get to the famous waters in town, you first have to take a walk on the canal.

Today, it is a somewhat empty path with occasional tourists and stalls selling cheap, plastic Chinese toys and fur coats(?!). It used to be filled with neat local restaurants and bars, but now it is mostly a plastic gauntlet. If you are looking for actual, engaging things to do in Borjomi rather than dodging cheap souvenirs... then you'll have to rent a car and go see some castle or sanatarium ruins nearby.

View up Borjomi canal to Crown Palace

View from Royal Palace looking away from Borjomi Park

On our trip, some colleagues scouted out a local wine cavern, but they deemed it "unsuitable" for the crowd of lawyers, accountants, and business types who were there for our conference. If it had been just me and Oskars, we would have jumped right in—and this story would probably have a slightly different tone.

If you want a free, quick shot of the curative stuff without paying the park fee, look behind the last row of buildings before the main gates. Down on the last slice of boardwalk, you will find the water faucet. This is the "Cold Spring." It isn’t the hot stuff, as it has been running through an underwater pipe for some distance at this point.

In the olden days, there was just a dirty communal cup sitting on the stone for everyone to share. Today, you will have to bring your own bottle (don't worry, you can buy one on the street). Fill it up, ignore the heavy copper taste, and let the minerals do their magic on yesterday's chacha.

The magic happens here

The Golden Pavilion and the Lukewarm Forest Walk

Inside the park gates, the real source lives under a grand, glass-domed pavilion.

The water here is warm—faintly thermal, surprisingly flat, and smelling heavily of sulfur. It is an acquired taste, to put it politely. If you want a different view of the park, you can take the cable car at the entrance up to the weird Soviet-style amusement park on the plateau.

If you are looking for the thermal sulfur baths, though, prepare for the Borjomi sulfur pools hike:

1. Walk past the pavilion and follow the dirt nature trail into the forest.

2. Keep your ears open for local drivers in old Nivas tearing up the mud roads where they absolutely should not be driving.

3. Arrive at the stone pools after a 45-minute walk.

   
   

The pools themselves are lukewarm, not hot. If you visit in the chilly off-season, you will likely spend the entire time shivering in a changing booth (yes, there are changing booths). Skip the swim if it is cold, enjoy the forest air, and head back to town. Borjomi is not exactly Georgia off the beaten path—it has been a tourist magnet since the 19th century—but you can still find pockets of quiet forest if you hike far enough.

The Crown Palace Saga

Borjomi is packed with dated hotels that use grandiose names to hide their Soviet-era bones. Take the Crown Palace: it has neither a crown, nor a palace, nor anything remotely royal.

The rooms are boring, the buffet is okay but mostly cold—though the pastries are tasty—and the air conditioning is controlled by a central system that apparently shuts off at midnight.

Crown Palace Borjomi

We found ourselves calling a security guard at 1:00 AM just to get him to unlock our window with a special key so we did not suffocate. Were they afraid of jumpers? "Nothing to do in Borjomi, I'm outta here!"

But the real crown of the palace is the bar.

Because there are few late-night spots nearby, the hotel acts like an airport terminal, charging an absurd 19 Lari for an Argo beer. Argo is a basic, commercial lager—the kind of beer you can buy at a corner kiosk for 3 Lari.

When I first came to Georgia, I hung out at a place that sold Argo for 3 Lari. Shoutout to Salve, by the way—the OG bar for all of us foreign hipster types. It is now called Makulatura, still in the same place on Dadiani in Tbilisi. Go check it out to witness how we old volunteers and journalists used to hang out.

To top off the absurdity at the Crown Palace, the staff forgot to charge us for our beers at checkout. Days later, they were hounding Oskars' phone on WhatsApp to collect their overpriced 19 Lari. They paid less than 3 Lari for that bottle! You don't need to chase down guests for your own checkout screw-up.

If you want a real drink, skip the hotel bar. Go to the local shops, buy a cold beer for a fraction of the price, and sit by the river.

The Ghost Train and the Future of the Valley

Borjomi has incredible bones. The nature is stunning, the river is wide, and the air is clean. But right now, it feels like a town waiting for a spark.

It has the potential to be a playground like Cesky Krumlov in the Czech Republic—a place with kayaking, back-alley art museums, and thriving local pubs. Instead, it is mostly rundown hotels and kids' playgrounds next to a roaring highway.

There is hope on the horizon, though.

The Kukushka—an old, rickety Soviet train that chugs over a spectacular bridge designed by Gustave Eiffel—has been out of service for years. It was a true, shaking adventure ride. Rumor has it that the Kukushka train Borjomi 2026 season is finally going to happen, and the line is planning its grand reopening.

Until then, go for the fresh air, drink the weird copper water, laugh at the absurdity of the crowds, and enjoy the mountains on your own terms.

Frequently Asked Questions

Is Borjomi mineral water good for hangovers?

Yes. The high mineral content and natural carbonation make it a legendary hangover cure across Eastern Europe. Drinking it warm straight from the source in Borjomi Central Park is highly effective, even if the metallic taste takes some getting used to.

How do I get to the Borjomi sulfur pools?

The sulfur pools are located at the end of the Borjomi sulfur pools hike, which is a 4-kilometer nature trail starting from the back of Borjomi Central Park. It is an easy, flat walk that takes about 45 minutes. Watch out for local drivers navigating Jeeps along the muddy path.

How much is the Borjomi Central Park entry fee?

The Borjomi Central Park entry fee is approximately 3 Lari. However, some hotels in the area offer free park access to their guests via their room key cards.

What is the Kukushka train Borjomi 2026 update?

The Kukushka is a historic, narrow-gauge railway line that runs between Borjomi and Bakuriani, famous for crossing a scenic bridge designed by Gustave Eiffel. While it has been out of service recently, local authorities are preparing the tracks with plans to finally reopen the line for the Kukushka train Borjomi 2026 season.

Ready to explore Georgia without the tourist fluff? Skip the generic travel-agency packages. I'm working on a new book about Georgian toasting and the grand tradition of the supra. If you have local expertise to share, let's talk. Otherwise, download my self-guided audio tours of Tbilisi—covering the Old Town, Rustaveli, and Chugureti—to navigate the capital like an outlander who actually knows the subtext.