My family and I have just returned from a trip to Georgia, which led us to discover large cities, well‑known international destinations, and small towns not yet touched by mass tourism. We met wonderful people who will stay in our hearts forever, but also some who were decidedly more irritable and unpleasant. We experienced fun moments and others that were much less so. This is the unfiltered story of what happened, and I hope you enjoy it.

Previous chapters

Chapter 1 - Alcoholic Transfer

Chapter 2 - Heading toward the ‘most precious water in the world

Chapter 3 - There’s more than just water

Chapter 4 - The Disney Castle

Chapter 5 – A thousand years of history

Four days dedicated solely to visiting the small town of Akhaltsikhe may seem like a lot, but once you add the day trips to the nearby attractions, the timing starts to make sense. Anyone traveling through Georgia’s Samtskhe–Javakheti region, in fact, cannot skip a visit to the ancient cave city of Vardzia, which is currently under consideration for inclusion among UNESCO’s World Heritage Sites.

To get there from the town of the castle, you have two options: the inevitable marshrutka, costing 20 GEL per person (1 € = 3 GEL), ideal for small groups, or a private transfer, more suitable for parties of five or more — like ours.

It was Diana, the owner of the hotel we mentioned in the previous episode, who informed us of this possibility: for the same price as five tickets on the shared minivan, we could get a private round‑trip transfer, with a dedicated driver for the entire day, ready to show us other attractions in the area in addition to Vardzia.

_{Views along the road}

His name is Max, and like many Georgians he also has a brief past in Italy, as well as friends who spent much of their lives there or still live there today. The Georgian community in Italy is very strong, especially in Puglia, and as you walk through the streets of various Georgian cities, you’ll almost certainly be stopped by some friendly lady who, recognizing your accent, will want to chat for a moment.

Max shows up with an Opel Zafira carrying nearly two hundred thousand kilometers of history on its odometer, but his extremely cautious driving and his cheerful personality quickly make us forget the vehicle’s less‑than‑perfect condition. He’s a big talker and insists on teaching us several Georgian words, such as gamarjoba (Hello, Good morning), madloba (Thank you), me minda (I want), and the phrase that will instantly win the heart of every Georgian: Me mikvars Sakartvelo (I love Georgia).

In Vardzia, the entrance fee is 10 GEL per person over the age of six, but by talking to the ticket office staff — with whom he seems to be on very friendly terms — Max manages to get our youngest son in for free, even though he’s already in double digits.

_{An interior view of one of the rooms in Vardzia}

A full visit of the site takes roughly three hours. What was originally conceived as a rock‑cut monastery was carved for more than 500 meters into the flank of Mount Erusheti by order of King Giorgi III (12th century). His daughter, the famous Queen Tamar, transformed Vardzia into a true underground city, with over six thousand rooms arranged across thirteen levels, designed as a defensive stronghold against enemy populations.

Inside, there were homes, churches, cellars, bakeries, dining halls, gathering places — all connected by an ingenious irrigation system. The caves that can be visited today were revealed only after the 1283 earthquake, which caused the mountain’s main façade to collapse.

Today, Vardzia is one of the most visited sites in Georgia, with over sixty thousand visitors per year. Unmissable inside is the Church of the Dormition, featuring 12th‑century frescoes, including one of the rarest surviving portraits of Queen Tamar.

_{A view of Vardzia}

After enjoying the meal we proudly bought in advance in Akhaltsikhe — eaten on a bench in the shade (never stop to eat at tourist attractions unless you want to get “fleeced”) — we head back to Max. At the exit of the parking lot, a menacing police car, lights flashing, seems to be waiting to “club” some unlucky passerby, but our driver doesn’t worry and greets them cheerfully.

There are six of us in the car, blatantly ignoring every rule about the maximum number of passengers allowed in a vehicle like his, but according to Max it’s not a problem at all: the police don’t care about that — they’re strict only about seat belts. He even makes sure that I, sitting next to him, have mine fastened. Different country, different customs.

Before taking us back to the hotel, Max insists on showing us other wonderful spots in the area. Among them, a monastery run by a few Orthodox nuns, from which — after a short walk — you can enjoy a stunning view, and even visit an old Georgian house, still fairly well preserved.

_{A cartoon version of me, looking out at the view from the path near the monastery}

On the way back, we almost end up in an accident. Not because of Max — whose driving style is extremely cautious — but because of a car with Russian plates that throws itself into an utterly reckless overtake in a blind spot. Noticing the dangerous maneuver, Max moves to the right, practically brushing the wall, but without the providential braking of the car coming from the opposite direction, a head‑on collision — one that would likely have involved us as well — would have been inevitable.

The kids, who had dozed off, barely notice anything, but we adults break into a cold sweat. Even Max, who candidly tells us he needs ten minutes to recover, is visibly shaking when we stop at a small church nearby.

I told you a couple of episodes ago: compared to Georgian driving habits, Naples feels like a town in Canton Ticino. And we still haven’t seen Batumi, the famous seaside resort on the Black Sea. But we’ll talk about that next time.

_{An old Georgian house}