Sometimes I convince myself that Tbilisi is a massive found-art exhibition, a magnificent, gleeful playground for wrought-iron statues and abandoned rocking-horses, street-corner pianos and a kitten named Marius who ate my khachapuri on Baratashvili St. One of my favorite Tbilisi pastimes is walking from Rustaveli Avenue into the Old Town and collecting curiosities:
I could spend my life walking city streets in a velvet cape, letting places call back memories. Tbilisi, I think, is one of the most wanderable cities I've been to, in that regard. I let my thoughts take the shape of a streetmap, and my mind runs to the oddest places:
I tend to find the bars on Chardini St somewhat overrated, overpriced, and inauthentic, but this Jungendstil sentry has promised his art gallery will be different!
STELLA! STELLA! STELLA!
It's by no means an ordinary city, but every corner has the first line of a novel. That's why I stayed.