Tbilisi

Where sulfur baths steam beneath crumbling balconies, wine bars hide in ancient cellars, and a city that’s seen everything refuses to take itself too seriously

Tbilisi is the kind of city that draws you in, reveals itself slowly, then gets right under your skin. Dripping with tradition yet effortlessly cool, Tbilisi is suave and chaotic, charming and eccentric all at once.

This isn’t one of those capitals that hits you with obvious grandeur. Tbilisi makes you work for it. The first impression might be crumbling Soviet buildings and chaotic traffic. But turn a corner and you’ll find yourself in a cobblestone alley where wooden balconies lean over Ottoman-era sulfur baths, while an ultra-modern glass bridge curves overhead.

That’s Tbilisi—a city that shouldn’t work but somehow does. Where grandmothers sell herbs on street corners beneath brutalist concrete towers. Where medieval churches sit next to hipster wine bars. Where you can soak in 2,000-year-old hot springs at 6 AM, eat khinkali at a Soviet cafeteria for lunch, and dance in one of Europe’s best techno clubs until sunrise.

For most travelers, Tbilisi becomes the main gateway to Georgia. But don’t just pass through. This city deserves your time.

The Legend: How Tbilisi Got Its Name

Our capital is a very old city. According to the common legend, it was founded by King Vakhtang Gorgasali in the late 5th century.

King Vakhtang was keen on falcon hunting. One day he and his men were hunting near the Mtkvari River. The king’s favorite falcon captured a pheasant and injured it. The pheasant managed to fly from the falcon but fell into a hot sulfur spring and was boiled. The falcon, chasing its victim, also fell into the hot water and didn’t survive.

The king’s men found these hot sulfur springs near the river. King Vakhtang was so impressed that he ordered a new city to be built around these thermal springs and called it Tbilisi—because tbili means “warm” in Georgian.

Tbilisi, by King Vakhtang’s order, became the capital of Georgia. And so it remains, 1,500 years later. Those same hot springs? They’re still flowing beneath the Old Town, and you can still bathe in them today.

Tbilisi or Tiflis?

Tourists from some countries are often confused about the name and ask: Is it correct to say Tbilisi or Tiflis? Let’s clear this up.

As mentioned above, Tbilisi stands for “warm” in modern Georgian. In old Georgian, the pronunciation was TFili. The combination of consonants “TF” is very difficult to pronounce for Turkish speakers, so in Turkish, the city became known as Tiflis. Many other languages, including Russian in the 19th century, adopted this name.

Before 1936, the official name in many languages was Tiflisi. But in 1936, the name officially changed to match the Georgian pronunciation: Tbilisi.

So both names refer to the same city, but Tbilisi is the correct modern name. If you see “Tiflis” in old books or maps, now you know why.

Why Visit Tbilisi?

Because this is where Georgia’s heart beats loudest.

Yes, the mountains are spectacular and the wine regions are beautiful. But Tbilisi is where you understand Georgian culture—the way food and wine aren’t just sustenance but social glue, the way hospitality isn’t a tourist slogan but a deeply held value, the way a nation that’s been invaded dozens of times somehow maintained its identity through sheer stubbornness and joy.

Tbilisi doesn’t look like other capitals. There’s no grand palace or pristine historic center. Instead, you get layers: Persian bathhouses beneath Soviet apartment blocks beneath medieval fortresses beneath glass-and-steel bridges. The city has been destroyed and rebuilt so many times that it stopped caring about architectural purity and just said “yes” to everything. The result is gloriously, chaotically beautiful.

Here’s what makes Tbilisi essential:

The Old Town is genuinely atmospheric. Not Disney-reconstructed atmospheric—real atmospheric. Wooden balconies sag over narrow cobblestone streets. Stray cats sleep in doorways. Grape vines climb crumbling walls. You’ll get lost. That’s part of the charm.

The sulfur baths are unlike anywhere else. These aren’t spas—they’re hot sulfur springs that have been flowing for millennia, now channeled into beautiful Persian-style bathhouses in the Abanotubani district. You haven’t experienced Tbilisi until you’ve sweated in a steamy tile room while a Georgian man scrubs you raw with a rough mitt, then dumps cold water over your head. It’s therapeutic, traditional, and utterly unique.

The food scene punches above its weight. Tbilisi has restaurants where you can eat like royalty for €15. Soviet-era cafeterias serving perfect khinkali for €3. Wine bars with 500+ Georgian wines. Georgian, Armenian, Azerbaijani, and international cuisines. Street food that’ll change your life. And hospitality that makes every meal feel like you’ve been invited to someone’s home.

The wine culture is serious. This is the birthplace of wine (8,000 years, remember?). Tbilisi has wine bars, wine cellars, wine museums, and wine shops where you can taste before buying. Natural wine lovers have discovered Tbilisi, and the city has dozens of places serving organic, qvevri-fermented, small-producer wines. You can spend weeks just exploring Georgian wine here.

The nightlife is world-class. Tbilisi’s techno scene has exploded. Clubs like Bassiani (in a former swimming pool beneath a stadium) and Khidi (literally “bridge”) draw international DJs and have become pilgrimage sites for electronic music fans. But there’s also jazz clubs, live traditional music, rooftop bars, and dives where locals drink chacha until 5 AM.

It’s ridiculously affordable. A three-course dinner with wine: €15-25. A night in a decent guesthouse: €20-35. Metro ride: €0.30. Coffee at a hip cafe: €1.50. Museum entry: €2-5. Sulfur bath: €10-20. Your money goes far here.

The architecture is wild. 4th-century churches. Persian bathhouses. Art Nouveau mansions. Brutalist Soviet blocks. Ultra-modern glass bridges. Old Tbilisi was renovated at the beginning of 2010 and given new life, but the eclectic mix of old and very modern gives the city its special charm. Architects either love it or hate it. Travelers just photograph everything.

The people are the secret ingredient. Georgians are proud, opinionated, loud, generous, and impossible to ignore. Strike up a conversation at a wine bar and you’ll end up invited to someone’s grandmother’s house for dinner. Georgians don’t do small talk—they go deep immediately. It can be overwhelming. It’s also what makes Tbilisi unforgettable.