14 July 2026
Four days short of a full five months in Georgia! The days and months have blurred together into a kaleidoscope of memories: long rainy days beneath snow-capped mountains; adventures to Chiatura, Batumi, Borjomi, Bakuriani, Ureki, Motsameta Monastery and Tskaltubo; river swims in golden sunshine whenever that great ball of fire in the sky decides to grace us with its mighty presence. Not often… but every now and then.
Expat dinners, housewarmings, English lessons, more rain. More glorious sunshine, more fascinating people coming and going. Discovering hidden nooks and crannies in this incredibly, breathtakingly beautiful country.
One year ago, I could never have imagined this is what Georgia would be like.
I can’t say I had many expectations when I booked my trip here, but I certainly didn’t picture a country filled with lush, subtropical forests glowing in every shade of green. Nor fruit trees growing abundantly everywhere you look. Loquats, mulberries, figs, pomegranates, every variety of citrus imaginable, plums in the warmest colours of the rainbow, apples, pears, persimmons… Tomatoes bigger than any I’ve ever seen! Strawberries, cherries, and raspberries at prices that make you laugh out loud. Where else in the world do you buy a whole kilogram of fresh raspberries, that actually taste like raspberries, for six dollars?
Georgian food, especially here in Kutaisi, has been an absolute joy. Rich, comforting, and definitely not kind to one’s waistline. Local dishes revolve around delicious breads filled with sulguni, a local cheese similar to feta, or lobio, a rich bean filling, alongside meats and mushrooms. Khinkali are, of course, the country’s most famous dish, giant dumplings served by the plateful. Meat and potatoes, together with our favourite tomato, cucumber, and walnut salad, complete the picture. In most restaurants it’s cheaper to order one large meal to share, simply because the portions are enormous. Buying ingredients to cook at home often costs even more.
That, of course, is one of the downsides of living here in what I am now convinced must somehow be the biblical “land of milk and honey.”
Grocery stores are small and variety is limited. Products we take for granted elsewhere simply don’t exist here. Ordering online is possible, but options are also limited, with deliveries far less straightforward than in many other countries. More often than not, Temu becomes the easiest solution… quality aside.
Staying in one place for as long as I have also allows you to realise something else.
Things are often so green because there is also a lot of… well… shit.
No place on earth has ever been perfect, and Georgia is no exception.
Unfortunately, foreigners are often greeted with little more than a scowl, a grunt, or complete indifference. Walking into a shop can sometimes make you feel as though your mere presence is the greatest inconvenience imaginable. Cultural differences matter, and they can take real time to understand. If you’ve never learned about the differences between warm- and cold-climate cultures, this unique little country and its people may come as quite a shock. Many travellers arrive, seeking refuge back at the hostel after an unexpectedly icy encounter, wondering what just happened.
Renting property is another migraine waiting to happen. By now, I’ve also become another victim of the endless accommodation scams in beautiful Georgia. Nothing dampens the excitement quite like arriving in a new city with nowhere to stay. Or finally finding the perfect apartment, only to be ghosted two days later. One would expect Booking.com, currently one of the biggest platforms affected by these scams, to remove these listings. But they appear under new names so frequently that perhaps they’ve simply given up trying to keep up. None of us can quite figure out what the scammers gain from advertising properties that never result in guests or payments. What it certainly creates is frustration… and plenty of unnecessary arguments.
As I continue navigating this season, I find myself reflecting often on the conversations and experiences shared among long-term travelers. . Each and every one of us left home for our own reasons and yet the reasons are too similar, too often, for me to find complete peace of mind. Europeans no longer want to live in Europe. Americans tell me they hate living in America. The UK is often described as a dump. Visas is an ongoing, nightmarish and very expensive little game, and by now, with a heavy heart I have realized that I would actually very much like to simply live….at home….in sunny South Africa.
That may sound completely ridiculous to many South Africans.
But when you spend your days listening to people who, from where we stand, seem to have wonderful lives, complaining about everything they have, while also experiencing endless grey weather, religious restrictions, and countless other realities, you begin longing for many of the things you left behind.
Of course, that illusion quickly crumbles too.
Crime. Failing infrastructure. Unreliable service delivery.
The loss of freedom.
How do you weigh it all up?
How do you decide which imperfections you can live peacefully alongside?
This merry-go-round of pondering on every good and bad thing… the constant seesaw between wanting to stay in this paradise forever, only for the bubble to burst and the desire to pack your bags and search for somewhere even more idyllic…
This is the quieter side of long-term travel. The side we rarely post on social media. Those picture-perfect Instagram photos never reveal the tears cried in solitude.
And so, I greet each new day with muted excitement. Grateful beyond words for this life-changing journey. Loving this place deeply. Tucking the uncertainty and longing into a small corner of my heart. Choosing instead to let each day guide me toward the next open door, trusting completely that wherever it leads… it will be the right place, at exactly the right time.
