Mtkvari River, Tbilisi
Sometimes the best adventures are the ones that weren’t planned.
Last week, I packed up the camera and tripod to wander around town. It was about 6 p.m., and I had mistakenly believed the peak of the rush hour traffic would be starting to subside.
I was wrong.
The terminal for the Saburtallo subway line is a little less than a 10-minute walk from our apartment. Normally, our stop is reasonably uncrowded. Not this time. It was packed.
Usually, I would have transferred to the main subway line at Station Square, ridden a few stops, and hopped off in one of my favorite parts of town. Station Square is, even during the quiet times of the day, full of people. At 6:30 that evening, packed was a woeful understatement.
I decided a change of plans was in order. I would walk.
Station Square is a hive of activity: the subway, buses, trains and marshrutka (mini-busses one can hire to go to different areas of the country) all stop nearby, providing an ongoing ocean of people coming and going.
An enclosed bridge takes people from Station Square over a railway yard to a neighborhood with one of Tbilisi’s most famous markets, Dezerter Bazaar.
The enclosed bridge houses several small flea-market style booths, and crossing over the tracks can, frankly, test one’s patience. It is crowded. It is congested with people shopping. And it’s one of the most unusually colorful places I’ve been to.
The market doesn’t stop on the other side of the bridge, but continues along the street with vendors selling everything from books to fruits and vegetables.
The sidewalks through the neighborhood were crowded but, unlike the subway, I was outside and moving. I kept walking until I came to the Mtkvari River.
I had no idea where I was. However, I knew if I followed the broad sidewalk along the river, it would eventually take me to where I originally wanted to be, and the route would be fairly flat. What I hadn’t guessed was how invigorating the walk would be, passing imposing apartment blocks, small factories and, eventually, art-deco-era buildings close to a street our new expat friends call Tbilisi’s New Orleans.
The light from the setting sun played on the river, turning the colors from its usual brown from the level of silt the waterway carries, to a ribbon of yellow and gold. On top of the river valley’s hills, a Ferris wheel from Tbilisi’s Mtatsminda Park watches over the city (I’m hoping to get out to Mtatsminda Park soon for some photos and an upcoming newsletter).
Like most cities, Tbilisi changes character when the sun goes down, something that’s especially true around the city’s Old Town area. The cool blue of the afternoon sunlight transitions to the warmth of historic buildings lit up against their surrounding neighborhoods and a magenta cast from the evening sun’s reflection in the clouds.
The Bridge of Peace takes on a different personality at night as LED lights dance around the structure in playful animations.
According to my watch that night, I had walked about 5 kilometers. My back was aching from my camera bag, and my legs were a little sore. But that stroll will stay in my mind for a long time, a reminder why Corie and I thought we’d pursue this crazy plan of living overseas.
I hope you’ll join me next week as I take a little break from Tbilisi and share one of my favorite journeys through New Mexico on the motorcycle.
