We spent the first day exploring the city itself, wandering through neighborhoods with carved wooden balconies, listening to the ringing of the bells of Metekhi and the sound of the Kura River under the bridges.
The funicular slowly took us up Mount Mtatsminda, where the view of the old and new city is mesmerizing. The morning light fell on the roofs of the houses, and it seemed that time dissolved into these beautiful landscapes — this is the magic and charm of travel.

One day, we took a boat trip on the Kura River. I highly recommend admiring the city from the water. The river gently carried us past bridges and old walls, and the light spring breeze brought the aromas of coffee and spices from the embankments. Georgian wine is served on the boat, which makes the atmosphere even more Tbilisi-like.

In the evening, we went to the art object "Chronicles of Georgia" - a monument of huge columns with bas-reliefs of saints and ancient inscriptions. As the sun set, the sculptures glowed with a bronze light, and the city below lit up with its first lights. There, at the top, Tbilisi seemed endless, and there was a feeling of ancient power.

The dinners were generously Georgian: hot khinkali, fragrant khachapuri, tart wine. I remember that evening with great warmth, a combination of taste and hospitality.

Our small bus glided easily along the Georgian Military Highway, among mountains where the clouds touch the ground. Fortresses, gorges, and rushing rivers flashed by outside the windows. The conversations grew quieter and quieter until the mountains enveloped us in their cold.

And there it was – a temple high above, as if floating in the sky. Stone walls, the wind from the top of Kazbek, the ringing of bells, a feeling of unity with the mountains, with the sky, with something greater.