25 May 2026

Well, the excitement about moving out of the hostel lasted about as long as it took for the agreement to be cancelled at the last second…

For reasons that make sense only to him, the current occupant decided that he no longer wanted me to look after his apartment and cats after all.

What felt like a physical blow when I opened and read his text quickly turned into a feeling of being caged, needing to get out and breathe. This happens to me sometimes when things become too much, when there’s simply too much to process all at once. I can try to use logic to overrule emotions as much as I want, but sometimes the instinct to flee is stronger.

I’d been wanting to see Batumi anyway, and since I desperately needed a breather — a reset — I decided this was the perfect time. I fully understand that everything happens for a reason, but the disappointment weighed heavily on my heart as I packed my bags. I know I would have taken good care of the apartment and loved those two cats as my own, and I still feel that it was an unfair and unnecessary change of plans, especially on such short notice. Luckily, my host family at the hostel is kind, and the girls love having me around, so I can stay until I figure out where to next.

The ride from Kutaisi to Batumi was incredibly scenic. The greenest jungle forests stretched around us as the marshrutka became trapped in a mighty traffic jam outside Batumi. Whether it was normal weekend traffic or roadworks, I couldn’t tell, but we crept forward for well over an hour. Staring at the misty mountains around me though, I found myself completely enchanted. What I would give to grab a tent and disappear into all that magical greenery.

Then… the sea.

My heart skipped a beat, as it always does at the first glimpse of the ocean or sea. I feel most like myself, most free, when there’s the sound of waves crashing and salt spray kissing my cheeks. Although it was raining, naturally, I walked to my hostel since it wasn’t too far away. I was utterly exhausted and wanted nothing more than comfort food, a shower, and sleep. I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings at first and yet, a strange kind of magic slowly began to pull at my attention.

I had never seen a city quite like this before.

After dinner, I wandered for a little while, but a fairly unpleasant wind snapped around me, determined to soak me from head to toe. My umbrella became more parachute than protection. Eventually, I surrendered and went back to the hostel.

Saturday was another wet day, but by then I had decided to make peace with the endless rain and enjoy Georgia exactly as she was offering herself. I wandered down to the rocky beach and was instantly captivated. Beautiful stones, smooth as polished marble and painted in every imaginable color, begged to be collected and carried home. If only I wasn’t travelling with one backpack…

Eventually, I reached the promenade and walked along the sea, completely under the spell of this colorful city. As sunset arrived, the skyline came alive in brilliant lights, earning its reputation as the “Las Vegas of Georgia.” The contrast fascinated me: dilapidated old Soviet buildings sadly bearing witness to another era, opposite the glamour of sleek hotels and polished glamour.

Many people had told me Batumi felt fake, plastic, too much.

I loved it.

The contrasts. The artistic splendor around every corner. The beautiful European-style buildings, cozy cafés, dancing fountains, gardens, and the brilliantly pink sunset all quietly stole my heart.

Sunday morning arrived in full sunshine. The moment I saw there was no rain forecast, I couldn’t sit still. I hadn’t even packed a bikini, but shorts and a sports bra would do because the sea was calling my name. Coffee barely swallowed, I rushed to the beach. The water was icy, of course, but as always, a deep sense of peace washed over me as the waves swallowed my frustrations and sadness. After a few deep breaths and a rather shaky attempt at balancing on slippery round stones beneath my feet, I realized swimming in the Black Sea is not for the faint-hearted. As I sat drying off, a friendly dog appeared and dropped a stone directly onto my foot. Laughing, I picked it up and immediately my furry companion charged into the water.

This was new! I threw the stone into the sea and the pure joy on the dog’s face was irresistible. He couldn’t find the same one, of course, but proudly returned carrying an even bigger rock. Soon everyone nearby was laughing. And my soul felt light. Another forever moment.

Later that afternoon, after a long walk with my friend Aleksandrina from Russia, I slowly made my way back to the hostel. By then, I was questioning my decision to stay in Kutaisi, and my thoughts spun in circles. There are so many beautiful places in this country and, completely against expectations, I might just move to Batumi for a while. Of course, I’ll miss the sleepy little city that has held me for the last three months, and my dear, slightly chaotic expat friends. But there is a whole world still waiting. And once my feet have touched salt water, leaving is always difficult.

For now, I’m back at Friend’s Hostel, back in the city that really does feel like home.

But the weekend is coming… And there is a slow train back to the Black Sea coast and its lights.