Georgia Rising
Artists and diplomats, DJs and executives, waiters and politicians share social circles, ideas, inspiration
that day in her workshop. “We get together every single day,” said Berulava. “Georgians are very much into friends and family culture.” But this was more than a mere sense of community. What was so extraordinary about being here in today’s Tbilisi was that the communal spirit felt tied to the very destiny of the country. Artists and diplomats, DJs and executives, waiters and politicians share social circles, ideas, inspiration. Some have experienced success abroad and then returned home to give back. Others stayed, working to remake Georgia from the inside, embracing the spirit of transformation pulsing through the country. Berulava began to order chacha, a strong Georgian brandy made from grape pomace, and the head mix ologist invited us to a new electronic music festival she was launching with some friends. Soon we were joined by two Americans in town on business — specialists, one of them said, in “pre-emerging markets.” Pre-emerging? He gestured grandly toward Rooms, as the bartender cranked up the music: “Well, here is already emerged.”
The air was cold and clear as winter as we walked toward the hotel, once a Soviet-era workers’ resort, and into the open-plan lobby, which had been recast with raw timber, antique Georgian rugs, iron chandeliers, and deep leather armchairs — an interior motif I recognized from Rooms Tbilisi — offset by vintage Soviet posters and teeming bookshelves. But all of this was dwarfed by the jaw-dropping view through floor-to-ceiling windows: Mount Kazbek and the towering peaks of the Caucasus Mountains. On the closest summit, hung in silvery mist, I could just barely make out the stone Gergeti Trinity Church, a popular destination for intrepid hikers, with a history dating back to the 14th century.
Part IV Mount Kazbek The next day we woke up, hungover but happy, and loaded a car for the mountains. We followed a storied route once known as the Georgian Military Highway, which crosses the Caucasus on its way to Russia. We drove along the right bank of the Kura River, past the country’s historic capital of Mtskheta, then over the wide floodplain of the Tetri Aragvi and past the medieval fortress of Ananuri, stopping only occasionally to buy dried, pressed fruit from a roadside grandma or drink ice-cold water from a mountain spring. The temperature dropped as we drove, winding higher and higher into the Georgian Caucasus, gray-green rock cutting against a watery cobalt sky. I saw milling sheep, towering skeletal oil rigs and, once, wild horses running across a hill flank, their manes whipping wildly in the mountain air. Finally we crossed the Jvari Pass into the village of Stepantsminda, and there it was, perched 1,800 meters above sea level amid a spectacular terrain of gorges, ridges, and snow-covered slopes: the Brutalist glass-and-wood structure now known as Rooms Hotel Kazbegi.
We dropped our bags in the room and headed to the hotel’s subterranean wellness area, built into a slope so steep that even here underground, giant windows looked west onto the mountains, letting the sunset drench the swimming pool in shimmering gold. Guests lounged in white robes along the terrace, sipping herbal tea and the night’s first glasses of Saperavi. Eventually we headed for dinner at the hotel’s groundfloor restaurant, which is popular for its hearty regional fare, all sustainably p roduced and locally farmed. We had a chicken-and-tarragon soup renowned as a hangover cure (I can vouch: it works), then worked our way to khinkali, the glorious Georgian dumpling, which must be eaten by hand. Local etiquette demands diners grab it by its doughy knob and take a bite, first sucking out the savory broth, then d evouring its juicy center of minced meat, onion, chili pepper, salt, and cumin. After dinner, we decamped to the vast, wrap-around wooden terrace where the jagged mountain skyline darkened against the last vapors of daylight. Hotel guests had clustered on lounge chairs under woven blankets to
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