From My Journal: How to Spend A Day in Tbilisi
You wake up to your alarm at 8:30 and open the curtains in the kitchen to see Rufus the cat already sitting at the door, waiting for his breakfast. He’s a regular.
After he (maybe she?) eats, he will want to come inside for pets. It’s like “if you give a mouse a cookie”, but you indulge him and let him stay awhile. You pick him up and take a mirror selfie, even though he’s scrambling to get down.
You light a candle, answer some emails and texts, and listen to a podcast episode to catch up on financial, pop culture, and tech news from the day before. There are midterms that need grading, so you decide to do half now and get through them in under 15 minutes. Light work. You forgo taking your multivitamin because ingesting anything will awaken your stomach, and breakfast is still an hour away.
Contacts in and eyeliner on, you finish getting ready, kick Rufus out, blow out the candle, and head out the door. You send a quick text to your landlord that the front door handle is loose again — you can literally see daylight between where the handle should be nailed into the door. He calls you within 20 seconds and tells you he will come over to fix it tomorrow morning. He says he will bring Cabriolet the foster dog, too. She always rides shotgun in his BMW.
You arrive at the bus stop to see the 314 is coming in 02 minutes. WOW, you think, how lucky am I? You look at the city skyline and thank God for putting you right here, right now. The bus comes chugging up the hill and after you tap your transport card, you sit at the front and watch the world go by. You don’t even need the map anymore, and you feel good that you’re getting to know the city so well.
You hop off the bus and cut through a neighborhood to get to your favorite bagel shop where, much like Rufus at your place, you’re a regular. The employees greet you, and the owner is here this morning with his dogs. The dogs like women, so they don’t bark at you, but they do bark at the male delivery driver who comes in after you.
A BEC on a plain bagel and a cappuccino is your order, and you sit down at your usual table, where you pull out your computer and journal. You spend some time journaling before you get your food and coffee (which has a little leaf design in the foam), then switch gears and work on Russian homework. The bagel always hits the spot and it’s never too crowded in there.
You bid farewell to the employees and head back into the fresh air, on a mission to find a pair of tall black boots for winter. You had to leave your last pair in Skopje but got a good amount of wear out of them. It’s a nice day, so you decide to walk to the mall close to Liberty Square. On the way, you see a group of little kids on a field trip and remember how fun those used to be. You also run into a friend from church who is on his way to a meeting, but has time to say hi and check in.
Having made it to the mall, you locate the boots at the store where your Georgian friend said they would be, for a good deal, too. Mostly you try to pay cash for everything, and this purchase is no exception. You’re close to the National Palace, so you go to the American Corner and run through the details of the next workshop you’ll do for the America club with your collaborators. This one will be about public speaking: tips, do’s, don’ts, and ways to practice. The youth orchestra practices in the same building, and you hear the clarinet section playing a piece of a symphony you don’t recognize, but it sounds angelic.
A friend asked you to a late lunch in a trendy neighborhood across the river, and you hop on the metro to get there. The escalators move really fast, but you’ve gotten the hang of it. You snag a seat next to an older woman with grocery bags galore, full of vegetables from a local market. Only a few stops and you’re out again! You meet at a Georgian restaurant that specializes in cuisine from the Megrelian region in the northwest of Georgia.
There’s no rush, and a couple hours are spent eating and catching up. You try some new dishes but insist that the two of you split kharcho and elarji because it’s your favorite. In the meantime, you remember you have to pick up two bags of chips on the way to church young adults group later. Tortilla chips for sure, and maybe those new paprika ones you tried last week.
Dusk starts to fall and the air has that comforting, autumn smoky smell. Along the Dry Bridge, older men and women are selling all sorts of wares, from Soviet-era license plates to actual plates to jewelry. A hairpin catches your eyes and you promise yourself you’ll come back and get it, soonish. Crossing Dry Bridge is a normal occurrence ad you’ve made this promise to yourself many times. You call your mom on the way to pick up the chips, and catch up with her about her knitting and the dog’s appointment at the vet. She says she’s proud of you, and you feel her love from 5,000 miles away.
Young adults group (aka Nomads) meets in an unassuming building with a dark red door, and immediately upon entering, you feel like you belong. You drop the chips off at the snack table and greet no less than 15 people. One girl shows you the tattoos she has been designing lately — super impressive.
After food, worship, and bible study (which happens in English and Russian), you don’t spend too much time socializing because you’ll see these same people for church in 12 hours and your bed is calling your name.
You’re tempted to call a Bolt (Uber) but are trying to stay on budget, so you walk to the metro station and take the train home. You’re also tempted by the smell of fresh donuts near the station, but you’re still pretty full and you know you can have them whenever you want.
Home at last, a friend from the U.S. calls as you’re taking off your makeup, and you listen to her law school endeavors and personal life details. She’s unaware of how kind she is to people, especially in a cutthroat place like law school. Long distance friendships are challenging, but worth it for the right people.
You read in bed for some time, only getting temporarily distracted by notifications from Instagram. Satisfied that you did something good for the rehabilitation of your attention span, you put your phone on the charger in the living room and turn off the light.