Tbilisi

The city's origins are tied to its warm springs. Tradition credits its founding to King Vakhtang Gorgasali in the fifth century, who is said to have come upon the springs while hunting; his son Dachi moved the capital of Kartli here from Mtskheta. The name comes from the Georgian word tbili, meaning warm. Its position on the route between the Black Sea and the Caspian, and between the Caucasus passes and Persia, made it valuable and repeatedly fought over. Arabs ruled it as an emirate from the eighth century until David the Builder took the city in 1122 and made it the capital of a united Georgian kingdom.

Mongol, Timurid, Persian and Ottoman armies all took the city in later centuries, and in 1795 a Persian force under Agha Mohammad Khan sacked it almost completely. Georgia was annexed by the Russian Empire soon afterwards, and Tiflis, as it was then known internationally, was rebuilt as the administrative capital of the whole Caucasus. Grand avenues, theatres and apartment buildings went up alongside the old lanes, and the population became a mixture of Georgians, Armenians, Russians, Persians, Jews and Germans.

After the brief independence of 1918–21 the Red Army took the city, and under Soviet rule it spread along the valley into districts of apartment blocks such as Saburtalo and Gldani. Independence in 1991 was followed by fighting in the streets of the centre in 1991–92, which destroyed buildings on Rustaveli Avenue, and by years of blackouts and hardship. The Rose Revolution began here in 2003, and since then the old town has been heavily restored, new bridges and buildings added, and the avenue has repeatedly become the stage for large political demonstrations.

Tbilisi has long been the most mixed city in the Caucasus, and the old town still shows it: a Georgian cathedral, Armenian churches, a synagogue and a mosque stand within a few streets of one another. Armenian, Azerbaijani, Russian, Kurdish and Jewish communities all shaped its trades, music and cooking, and the nineteenth century produced a distinctive urban culture of courtyard houses, carved balconies and the karachogheli, the artisan townsman with his own songs and codes of honour.

The supra, the Georgian feast, is the framework for hospitality. A tamada proposes toasts in a set order — peace, family, the dead, the guests — and the table answers each one; polyphonic singing, inscribed by UNESCO as intangible cultural heritage, often accompanies it. The self-taught painter Niko Pirosmani, who worked in the city's taverns in the early twentieth century, has become a national symbol, and Georgian cinema and theatre have strong Tbilisi roots, from the Rustaveli Theatre to the film studios of the Soviet era.

Since the 2010s the city has also become known for a young cultural scene: techno clubs in former industrial spaces, natural-wine bars, galleries and design studios, with the club Bassiani at the centre of a nightlife that has repeatedly tested conservative opinion. Orthodox Christianity remains strong, with large crowds on church feast days, and the tension between these currents is part of everyday conversation.

More than 1.3 million people live in Tbilisi, roughly a third of Georgia's population, and the city holds most of the country's government, universities, hospitals, media and business. The centre and the old town are increasingly given over to tourism, hotels and restaurants, while most people live in Soviet-built districts such as Saburtalo, Gldani, Varketili and Isani, connected to the centre by metro and minibus.

Work is concentrated in services, trade, construction, transport and a growing technology sector; many families also rely on remittances from relatives abroad. Wages remain low relative to the cost of housing, and the arrival of large numbers of Russian and other newcomers since 2022 pushed rents sharply higher in the central districts, which is a constant subject of complaint. Traffic, air quality and the loss of old buildings to new development are the other running arguments.

The rhythm of the day starts late by northern European standards and ends late. Bakeries open at dawn, offices fill mid-morning, and restaurants are busy well towards midnight, especially in summer when people escape flats that hold the heat. Weekends often mean a trip out of the city, to the mountains north on the Military Highway or to family villages in Kakheti. Politics is discussed openly and with feeling, and protest marches on Rustaveli Avenue are a familiar part of city life.

Tbilisi eats the food of the whole country, with a strong eastern Georgian accent. Khinkali, pleated dumplings filled with spiced minced meat and broth, are the city's staple: they are held by the twisted knot, bitten at the side and drunk from, and the knot is left on the plate. Khachapuri, cheese bread, comes in many forms — the round imeruli with cheese inside, the layered megruli with cheese on top, and the boat-shaped adjaruli with an egg and butter, eaten everywhere although it comes from the Black Sea coast.

Mtsvadi, meat grilled over vine cuttings, and chakapuli, lamb or veal stewed with tarragon and green plums, come from the eastern countryside; so do chanakhi, a clay pot of lamb with aubergine and tomato, and lobio, beans cooked with herbs and served with cornbread. Walnuts and pomegranates run through the cooking: pkhali, chopped vegetables or herbs ground with walnut and garlic, and badrijani nigvzit, fried aubergine rolled around walnut paste, open most meals. Shotis puri, the canoe-shaped bread baked against the wall of a clay tone oven, is bought hot several times a day.

Wine is inseparable from the table, much of it from Kakheti to the east: dry red Saperavi, white Rkatsiteli, and the amber wines fermented with their skins in buried clay qvevri, a method inscribed by UNESCO as intangible cultural heritage. Chacha, a grape spirit, finishes a meal, and churchkhela, walnuts threaded on string and dipped in thickened grape juice, hangs in every market. Tarragon lemonade and strong Turkish-style coffee are the everyday drinks.