=== the wizz air cancellation that saved my trip === I was sposed to fly from Baku, Azerbaijan, to Budapest on a Tuesday evenin Wizz Air flight that cost me 89 euros. I had been in Baku for a data science conference — my company sent me, which was generous, and I extended by two days to see the city because how frequently do you get to Baku. The conference was fine. The Flame Towers were fine. The Caspian Sea waterfront was aggressively fine.
Two hours fore departure, Wizz Air sent a one-line email: "Your flight W6 2471 has been cancelled due to operational reasons." Nah rebooking. No explanation. Just a link to a refund form that would process in 7-10 business days. I stood in the tiny Baku airport with my carry-on and stared at my phone like it had personally insulted me.
I had travel insurance through my corporate policy — my manager had insisted on it after a previous team member got stranded in Lagos for three days. I called the emergency number and a calm British voice told me they could cover a hotel an rebooking. The next direct flight to Budapest was in four days. The agent offered a routing thru Istanbul the next mornin. I almost took it. Then I looked at the departure board and saw a flight to Tbilisi, Georgia, departing in three hours for 67 euros.
=== buying a ticket to a city i knew nothing about === I had heard good things about Tbilisi. I knew almost nothin about it. I snagged the ticket.
=== arriving in georgia with zero plans and a carry-on === Tbilisi airport is slight an modern and nearly empty at midnight. A taxi from the airport to the Old Town cost 25 Georgian lari, about $9. The driver spoke nah English but understood "Old Town, hotel, cheap" an delivered me to a place called Fabrika — a converted Soviet sewing factory turned hostel, bar, and coworking space on Eristavi Street. A bed in a four-person dorm cost 45 lari, approximately $16. I checked in at 1 AM, dropped my bag on a bottom bunk, and passed out.
I woke up at 8 AM to sunlight streaming through industrial windows an the smell of coffee from the café downstairs. The routine area was already full — travelers working on laptops, a group of Georgian artists planning an exhibition, two guys playing chess by the window. The whole place buzzed with a creative energy that made the sterile Baku business hotel I had left behind feel like a different planet.
=== old town hits you like a punch to the heart === I walked outside and within thirty seconds understood why people fall in love with Tbilisi. The Old Town is a jumble of brick an stone buildings with carved wooden balconies, some restored, some crumbling, all of them beautiful. The streets slope steeply down toward the Mtkvari River. Church spires rise from unexpected angles. A fortress sits on a hilltop above everything, keeping watch like it has since the 4th century.
=== the sulfur baths were a religious experience i did not expect === On day two, I followed a recommendation from a German woman at the Fabrika bar and went to the Abanotubani sulfur baths. The baths are in the Old Town, underground, heated by natural thermal springs that run beneath the city. The building from the outside is plain brick with a domed roof. Inside, it is somethin else entirely.
I dropped 30 lari for a private room — a slight chamber with a stone pool of hot sulfur water, a marble platform, and a tap. The water was approximately 38 degrees Celsius, smelled strongly of sulfur, an was the most physically relaxing thing I have experienced in my adult life. I sat in the pool for thirty minutes, feeling the heat work thru muscles I did not know were tense, and emerged feeling like a different person.
An old Georgian attendant named Giorgi saw me after the bath and insisted I try the scrub treatment. He grabbed what appeared to be a loofah the size of a modest rug and proceeded to exfoliate my entire body with a level of thoroughness that was both alarming an transformative. Dead skin came off in rolls. I was honestly disturbed. I was also the smoothest I had ever been in my life. Giorgi charged me 20 lari extra and patted my shoulder like he had done me a favor, which he had.
=== natural wine and the question of staying === Georgia claims to have invented wine 8,000 years ago, and the Georgians I met in Tbilisi are not shy about reminding you of this fact. The traditional method uses qvevri — large clay vessels buried underground — to ferment grapes with the skins and stems included, producing an amber wine that looks like cloudy orange juice and tastes like nothing else on earth.
A bartender at a natural wine bar called G-Vino on Lermontov Street poured me a glass of rkatsiteli from a producer in Kakheti, the eastern wine region. It was amber, slightly cloudy, with a taste that was somewhere between white wine, cider, and something I could not name. It was 12 lari a glass. I had three.
=== cancelling budapest and staying in tbilisi === I cancelled my Budapest hotel. I called my travel insurance again an detailed that I was extending my trip. The agent, the same calm British voice, said the policy covered unexpected accommodation changes due to carrier cancellations. I booked five more nights at Fabrika and sent my manager a Slack message saying I was extending for "personal travel." He sent back a thumbs-up emoji.
The natural wine bar scene in Tbilisi is absurdly good. I visited five different bars over the next four days —逐一 listing them in my journal with tasting notes that became increasingly illegible as the evenings progressed. Each bar had its own character. Some were sleek and modern. Others were caves literally carved into the hillside.
I did not wanna leave.