Tbilisi: Orbeliani Baths

by Alex Robertson Textor on

Some cities have an isolated public bathhouse here or there, in a remote corner; others, like Budapest, have public baths strewn throughout. Tbilisi has its own bathhouse district called Abanotubani, with several bathing venues on offer. I’d been looking forward to experiencing one of these baths for weeks. I went with the bathhouse with the most beautiful exterior, Orbeliani Baths, both because it’s fun to judge a book by its cover and because I’d been told that it was particularly worthwhile.

The ornate blue-tiled exterior mosaic of the Orbeliani Baths (see above) is hard to miss. As I approached, a group of backpackers were exiting. “Well, maybe tonight we’ll come back,” one said, something just shy of anxiety behind his careful intonations. Coward, I thought. You won’t be back. You’ll do it now or you won’t ever do it. I handed over a measly three lari ($1.80) to the cashier and walked upstairs to the men’s baths.

What follows is a description of the men’s side of the bathhouse. I can’t speak with authority as to what transpires on the women’s side. I’ve heard rumors, though, and I think it’s safe to say that the female masseurs, like their male counterparts, don’t believe in coddling their charges. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Visitors first enter a locker room. The three lari covers admission plus a sheet-like towel. Your possessions go in a locker, which the attendant shuts with a key. You’ll be naked except for a pair of flip-flops and your towel. (Some guests also brought in little scraping devices and razors for skin care.)

Entering the enormous bathing room, a masseur will approach and ask if you’d like to book a bath (5 lari; $3) and/or massage (also 5 lari). The masseurs are built like tanks, something I found reassuring. At least I’ll get clean, I thought. I opted for both a bath and a massage. My masseur gestured toward the showers, two different pools, and a sauna. I was off.

Twenty minutes of bathing bliss followed. I showered, sweated in the sauna, cooled off in a pool, and repeated. Just as I was starting to feel clean and incredibly relaxed, my masseur bellowed my way. I’d almost forgotten. Almost.The washing and massaging session started off pleasantly enough. My attendant dragged me to the edge of a slippery tiled surface and began to wash me. Then came a massage, firm and intense. At first, his method was unobjectionable. Then he upped the intensity level with broad and very firm strokes, his hands moving outward from my spine to the edges of my back. Still fine, though I felt fear for the first time.

He motioned for me to turn around. He repeated the action on my chest and belly, long horizontal movements. Um, ouch. Were there knives attached to his hands? Was he reaching into my torso and rearranging my organs?

Christ on a tricycle it hurt.

The pressure was unlike any other I’ve experienced in my many years of receiving massages. I began to reason with myself. On the one hand, this sort of thing had to be good for my lymphatic system; on the other, it was easy to suspect that I was in the process of being murdered. Still, I was loathe to request a lighter touch, thinking that the pressure was simply part of the experience. Then, suddenly, he deposited an enormous bubble of soap in my lap and gestured toward the showers. It was over, and I was alive. Was it worth it? Actually yes, absolutely, even with the shockingly intense pain.

I was later told by a Georgian friend that masseurs offer massages in a range of intensities and that what happened to me was not typical. I could have just asked the masseur to modulate the pressure; that’s what my friend would have done. But I didn’t, and huge bruises materialized two days later. But at least I hadn’t been a coward.

Beware of a requoting of massage and bathing combination price at the exit. You should pay no more than 10 lari ($6) for both.

Be sure to check out previous installments of Far Europe and Beyond.

Far Europe and Beyond: Introducing Tbilisi

by Alex Robertson Textor on

“The Soviets always had a difficult time with Georgia. They were never able to turn Tbilisi into a Soviet city,” says Revi. I’ve just met Revi, the cousin of a friend, and he’s introducing me to Tbilisi. He’s just picked me up at the airport and is giving an impromptu nighttime tour. We’re driving down the major artery of Shota Rustaveli Avenue in central Tbilisi. The city is sparkling. Revi points to the national Parliament, to hotels, theaters, and cafes. The street is bright and shiny and looks terribly prosperous. For a second I think I could be in any European city.

Over the next several days, Revi’s words would ring in my ears. The knots of unruly, twisting streets in Tbilisi’s Old Town are enchanting, and unlike Shota Rustaveli Avenue, they are delightfully hardscrabble. There’s no Soviet triumphalism there; nor is there much modern Soviet architectural bombast in the center of the city. Granted, there are plenty of large anonymous apartment blocks in Tbilisi, and a smattering of Soviet architectural masterpieces as well–the Roads Ministry Building is perhaps the most obvious example–but Tbilisi is a city that has resisted bulldozing and reprogramming.

I came into Tbilisi with a huge advantage: I knew some Georgians. For the last several months, I’d had the good fortune to be exposed to Georgian food and culture at Little Georgia, a restaurant in my London neighborhood. I’d enjoyed Georgian food previously, but Little Georgia’s inexpensive lunches and dinners made me a fan.

And when it came time to take off for Tbilisi, the staff of Little Georgia kindly provided direction. Tiko Tuskadze, the owner of Little Georgia, gave me the phone numbers of her friends. A waiter at Little Georgia, the increasingly well-known photographer Beso Uznadze, overlapped with me in Tbilisi. His friends really extended themselves to me. One rescued me from a grubby hostel by offering me his reasonably priced, beautiful apartment. Two gave me informal tours of various parts of Tbilisi. I was invited to drinks, dinner, and get-togethers. And I was toasted over vodka by people I’d just met–and perceptively and kindly, I might add.

As lovely as these overtures were, it’s not at all clear to me that I wouldn’t have made friends along the way on my own. Tourism may be picking up in Tbilisi but outsiders are not all that common and are consequently of genuine interest. At Shavi Lomi, a delightful restaurant in the neighborhood of Sololaki–don’t worry, I’ll return to Shavi Lomi later this week–the waitress told me she was very happy to see me return. People asked questions: taxi drivers, waitresses, shopkeepers. Given language barriers, communication was often quite superficial and partial, but it was always a pleasure.

Georgia is developing at breakneck speed. Among the major recent improvements mentioned by locals are road quality and police behavior: The roads in and around Tbilisi are quite good, and corrupt cops no longer pull cars over to shake down drivers for a few lari. More evidence: Many cafes and restaurants offer free wi-fi to their customers; this feature is considerably more prevalent than it is in most big cities across Europe.

The tourism infrastructure is also improving rapidly, and costs are generally low. Restaurants, public transportation and taxis are all very reasonable. On the downside, hotels in Tbilisi are overpriced for the quality on offer. This is a legacy in part, no doubt, of the fact that previous visitors have come from the worlds of business and NGOs.

Tbilisi is a default base for people traveling around Georgia, but it’s also a place that should justify a visit by itself. Culinary pursuits alone could form the basis of a week’s stay. Beyond the range of restaurants on offer, highlights include the Old Town’s gravity-defying old houses and narrow streets, museums, churches that date to the 6th Century, striking Neoclassical buildings, public baths, parks, and grand neighborhoods like Vere, Sololaki, and Vake. My bet is that Tbilisi, atmospheric and enchanting at so many turns, will develop far more deeply as a tourist destinations in the coming years.

Introducing Far Europe and Beyond

by Alex Robertson Textor on

Far Europe and Beyond, a Gadling series in partnership with bmi (British Midland International) launches today.

Europe’s eastern borders cannot be defined simply. The western, northern, and southern perimeters are easy: The Atlantic, the Arctic, and the Mediterranean provide those boundaries, respectively. It’s the eastern border that is more difficult to pinpoint. There are two basic definitions of the eastern border of Europe: the Bosphorus, which divides Istanbul; and the Ural Mountains. The problem here is that there is a gap of around 1200 miles between the point where the Ural River hits the Caspian Sea and Istanbul.

The former definition leaves most of Turkey outside of Europe and makes it difficult to draw a continental border from the Bosphorus northward. If one assumes the latter definition, then a piece of western Kazakhstan is in Europe, but the continent’s Eastern flank fails to have a fixed boundary once the Ural river empties into the Caspian Sea. Does Europe’s border then get drawn along Russia’s southern edge or does it include the former Soviet republics of Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Georgia, along the Iranian border? Increasingly, this is the working definition of Europe, with inclusion of the Caucasian trio; it is the definition, more or less, that the BBC and the Economist endorse.However we define Europe’s eastern borders, there are a number of national capitals that are clearly in the farthest reaches of Europe or just beyond them, all of which are included on bmi’s route map: Tbilisi, Georgia; Yerevan, Armenia; Baku, Azerbaijan; Beirut, Lebanon; Almaty, Kazakhstan (not the capital, admittedly, but the country’s most important city); and Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. These capital cities are naturally very interesting to veteran travelers for whom Europe is old hat, but they’re also fascinating places for less seasoned travelers. For the most part, they’re off the beaten path, teeming with local culture and opportunities for many different types of tourism.

This week and next, I’ll write a series of posts on the first two cities on the above list: Tbilisi, the capital of Georgia; and Yerevan, the capital of Armenia. I’ll look at some of these cities’ most captivating characteristics, some culinary highlights, interesting quirks, and the best easy day trips beyond city limits.

[Image: Flickr | sara~]

Gawker’s Worst 50 States

by Elizabeth Seward on

I’ve been following Gawker’s newest series, The Worst 50 States. I’ve been enjoying following this series. In an effort to pin down not only the best states in the US of A, but, more importantly, the worst states, Gawker compiled a Gawker-invented rating system in order to rank our fair fifty. Granted, this rating system consists solely of the viewpoints of those on staff for Gawker, so the viewpoints are just about as biased as you would deem Gawker (Which might be not at all according to you!), but there’s some interesting stuff in there. Yes, they’re focusing on the bad more than the good, those damn pessimists, but all in all, fact or fiction, the commentary on the 50 states is makes me laugh. And, I’ll just throw this in there, I’ve been to 48 of the 50 states and much of every summary they make rings true to me. They’re not done wrapping up the states yet, but check out their analysis of most of the states here.

If you’re inflamed, saddened, or curling over with laughter after reading what’s so bad about your home state, come back here and tell us in the comments how Gawker made you feel.

Labor Day island getaways from Wanderfly

by Meg Nesterov on

Labor Day is fast approaching along with the official end of summer. If you haven’t had enough sun yet, maybe it’s time for one more weekend of lying on the beach, fruity cocktail and fun book in hand? We asked our friends at Wanderfly.com, a web travel tool that helps you choose a vacation spot, for some Labor Day island getaways offering deals for the long weekend.

Domestic: Hilton Head Island, South Carolina
Hilton Head is a 45-minute drive from Savannah, Georgia (one of our favorite romantic destinations), with miles of public Atlantic beaches, dolphin cruises, and renowned golf courses. Not bringing your private yacht? ResortQuest will pay for your gas ($150 credit card) on Labor Day stays of 3 nights or more, plus free tennis and discounted golf.

Caribbean: St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands
Feeling decisive? If you can book by tomorrow, you can save 35% on stays at Bolongo Bay Beach Resort in St. Thomas. They’ll also throw in a free sunset sail and cocktails at their beach bar. Summer is the low season for most Caribbean islands, but a tropical weekend knows no season. Check out more of Wanderfly’s picks for St. Thomas here.

Europe: Iceland
So Iceland might not be known for sandy beaches or fruity cocktails, but relaxing in the geothermal waters of the Blue Lagoon works pretty well too. Iceland Air is offering a free stopover in Iceland on flights booked to European cities such as Stockholm and Amsterdam. Just have time for one destination? Reykjavik is only about 5 hours from the East Coast with direct flights from New York, Boston, Washington D.C., and Orlando, as well as Minneapolis and Seattle.

If you’ve had enough sun, Wanderfly has plenty of other travel ideas. Visit their site and tell them what you’re looking for (with interests from art to extreme adventure) and how much you want to spend and they’ll give you personalized recommendations. Stay tuned for more Labor Day travel ideas on Gadling.

Hilton Head Island photo courtesy Flickr user Lee Coursey.