Returning to Tbilisi has not been without its thrills. When coming to a developing country—especially with a child—you’ve got to expect some ups and downs. As our furniture wasn’t due to arrive in another three weeks since it had set sail from Antwerp rather than fly along with us, it meant we would be living in a basically empty apartment. And with a child and wife, after so long, it leads to a mild form of depression, mild in the same way as that fungus they found in the milk here this week.

Don’t get me wrong. Living without furniture isn’t that bad. It’s the wait that’s bad. It’s the fact that we don’t have anything we can do about it. It’s not something I can fix. No matter what we occupy ourselves with—painting walls, getting rid of old crap, fixing toilets/sinks/closets—we’re still unable to make ourselves more comfortable.

Then we get the notice that it will be a week late. Aaaand then again.

And it's double something I can’t set about fixing. At least if we simply had no furniture, we could run down to Saba Furniture Bazar and undo that for cheap. But here we have furniture coming.

Just not yet.

I hate that.

Making upgrades with the kid

We decided then it’s the best time to upgrade some of our house “features”. Namely, there was a hole in the paint in the ceiling due to past water damage, some damaged floorboards from when we installed the radiators years ago, a doorway we wanted to make between the kitchen and living room, and some paint to freshen up the place.

Naturally, while the place was empty and we were waiting for furniture, this was the best time.

For the work we couldn’t do, like sanding the floors, fixing the ceiling, and some various holes that required a hammer drill, we’d have to get professional help. Which isn’t always available/easy to find in Tbilisi.

It’s like Future USA in this regard.

That is to say, there are a lot of people without jobs who buy a drill or wrench thinking handyman work is easy enough.

And then they do wretched jobs, like the abomination that was done to my floorboards that covered the pipes connecting the radiators in the living room and the bathroom.

Like, man, I could have done that shoddy-ass job myself, that’s why I called you!

So how do you know the pros from the not-so-pros?

Luckily, Uber has inspired a whole generation of service apps. Here in Tbilisi, there’s Mister Master and Profy. Mister Master was the old go-to service, but I find Profy has a much better UI and the ability to rate the work of the handyman is great. It sucks for those starting out, but for guys who are doing regular and good work—power to them.

And so we took advantage of the empty apartment, made a hole int he wall, and started to paint.

Moving pains

As I write this, we’re still waiting for the furniture. We have a small desk, a small patio-furniture table, and two mattresses for our abundance of comfort.

Then in Tbilisi buildings, they often have this weird elevator system.

See that thing?

That is a coin box, I kid you not. It’s not uncommon for Tbilisi elevators to have them, especially when you’re not living in some posh hood, but with the real people, fam

Where in most countries, the residents of the building might cooperate in some sort of Homeowners Association, Syndic, or Commune structure with common fees that pay for this much taken-for-granted kind of thing, not Georgia.

In Georgia, it’s everyone for themselves.

It’s yell at each other in the stairwell and make cardboard fortress structures in the hallway like we’re kids at war (I-kid-you-not).

As it’s an extreme rarity for any neighbor to agree with any other neighbor here, getting money for collective causes like elevators, paint jobs, or parking lot updates is well-nigh impossible. The only time an upgrade to the building area might come your way is if elections are coming up and the local government is trying to win some incumbent votes by way of last-minute projects.

Four more years, and maybe we can get a tag-operated lift…

Childcare in Tbilisi

Add on top of all that, the little rugrat is getting restless. He needs his toys, his running around, some peers. 

Back in Brussels, childcare is magical. They provide it for free, and the daycare is actually pretty quality. At least ours was (Adolphe Max for those who are looking, never mind the aggressive German-sounding name). Not only did it help him make friends in an environment he wouldn’t naturally, since neither one of us were from Brussels, it helped him learn French. So that was cool.

In Tbilisi, they do offer public kindergarten, but it gets out at 13:00. Which doesn’t help a working-full-time family.

That leaves private kindergarten, which comes with a price tag.

Our little one doesn’t yet know Georgian (though he should). And frankly, after seeing his astronomical progress with French, I’m quite convinced the best way for him to learn Georgian is just to chuck him into a room full of other Georgian kids and have at it.

There are some English language (Georgian-American School) and French language (Ecole Francaise) options (which are all, of course, in the same neighborhood of Vake), and those are probably at a higher standard than the Georgian private kindergartens, but that’d also mean he’d be at a loss for Georgian. Luckily, the one we found seems phenomenal (pm me for deets). It’s got a Lego room, a “soft” gym, a “hard” gym, and an outdoor playground in all of their branches.

Not to mention five meals that our little one refuses to eat.

Adjusting to kindergarten

We expected it to take about a week for him to adapt. He still misses his friends and there is naturally a huge language pressure. It’s nice that with voip apps these days, it’s easy to have a quick call with his old mates and discuss snakes, ball sizes, and whatever else is super important in the minds of toddlers.

The first day at kindergarten/maternelle/whateveritscalled they came home soon after leaving. He was already crying after every moment that my wife tried to tear away. But each day after, and with much bribing with doudous (stuffed animals), he finally began to adjust.

I couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for the wifey (as perhaps husbands should feel). That was my job back in Brussels when our roles were swapped. I still remember the little two-year-old running down the stairs and trying to escape the creche (daycare), shrieking in tears.

That was a real struggle, man. And I knew right then that some sacrifices would have to be made. That I would never be able to do my job at full capacity (though as it was remote, I didn’t really have to tell them cough, which is probably why I ended up unemployed).  

But as Georgia, like any small country, has so many connections to other countries, it was just a matter of time before he discovered a few other English-speaking kids.

Though that makes his time at school easier, I just hope it doesn’t prevent him from picking up Georgian language. Else we’ll have to send him back to the farm with his grandparents.

Want to learn some travel with kids hacks and read more about my own failures? Of course you do! Check out my latest book on Amazon, A Facetious Guide to Traveling with a Kid. Get it today! Support a man, feed a family, make your preggo gypsy friend have a laugh.

And for a slightly different version of this: