10 April 2026
Walking across the Red Bridge earlier this morning, there was a definite air of excitement buzzing around me. The usually sleepy city had transformed into a rainbow of Easter baskets, freshly baked yellow breads, fresh meats, and brightly dyed red eggs — alongside the hurried scurrying of locals gathering everything needed to prepare a feast… or so I assume.
It’s been nearly two months since my arrival in Kutaisi, and inspiration to write a blog post has been few and far between. But then there are moments when something stirs inside me, and I can’t wait to put pen to paper — or at least type out the images forming in my mind as soon as I open my laptop.
Church bells ring as devoted followers make their way to offer prayers during this holiday. Elderly women, modestly dressed in shades of black, black and black, hand out baskets and flowers. I wander through the Green Bazaar, taking in the familiar scenery — yet today, it feels different. The leafy greens appear brighter, freshly picked radishes gleam, and the cheese looks even more creamy. If I hadn’t already filled myself with the best lobiani and pickles I’ve had since arriving in Georgia, I might have been tempted to spend my entire budget on fresh produce I wouldn’t even manage to finish. At first I wasn’t all that impressed by the local favorite – plain bread with a savory bean filling, but I will most definitely visit The Magnolia again, either for the same delicious meal, or maybe for trying out something new.
Another unexpected discovery in Georgia has been corn flour — not the type most of the world is familiar with, but maize meal, just like we have in South Africa. Mieliepap is a staple back home, much like rice, potatoes, or bread elsewhere. Here, they make mchadi, and when it’s fresh, it’s a delicious little corn bread — but nothing quite compares to the pap we grew up with. It’s difficult to explain to someone who has never tasted it. It can be porridge… but also not at all. A softer version might pass as porridge, but traditional krummelpap or putu pap is something entirely its own. My bag of maize meal sits patiently in the kitchen, waiting to become a small taste of home — and perhaps surprise my Russian host family.
As the sky darkens once again, more rain on the way, I take a deep breath and smile. I am content.
The universe brought me to Georgia when I barely even knew this country existed. Its history feels like an unfamiliar storybook — each page surprising, yet holding a faint echo of something I somehow recognize. Russian words occasionally catch my ear, and I’ve been amused to notice how many similarities exist between certain Afrikaans and Russian words. The culture is vastly different. Russians and Georgians simply are not warm-climate people — not in weather, and not always in expression. And yet, every so often, in the flicker of a local’s eyes, I catch glimpses of a quiet kindness I haven’t experienced anywhere else.
In my heart, I believe that all people once lived in harmony — kind, connected, and rooted in unconditional love. Over time, civilizations have risen and fallen, shaped by forces we may never fully understand. Still, I find myself looking beyond the gruff tones and stoic faces. I can’t help but feel that if the sun shone more often, the smiles might come a little easier… My South African heart still longs for the sunny warmth, but I’m slowly learning to appreciate my newest friend — Umbrella — accompanying me on my daily walks.
I arrived in this strange and beautiful country without a plan. Quietly, I’ve been teaching English to the sweet Russian girls at the hostel, as well as my Turkish students online. I’ve observed, waited, and slowly it has become clear that, for now, this is where I’m meant to be.
There are many places across Georgia I hope to explore once summer finally arrives — starting with the old Soviet mining town of Chiatura on my birthday. Steve and I are planning an adventure to see the monastery perched atop a rocky pinnacle, the abandoned cable cars, and the surrounding nature. Ushguli, Batumi, and Tbilisi are all still waiting on my list.
For now, I peacefully sip my coffee, listening to Vika and Valia playing outside until big old raindrops send them running back in — just in time for our 4pm English lesson.
Life is not perfect. Georgia has its challenges, and my own struggles have not disappeared. But for the first time since leaving home last year, there is a quiet joy fluttering gently through my heart — for no obvious reason at all.
Happiness really is a state of being…
And here I am — grounded, peaceful, and quietly excited for the chapters still waiting to unfold.
