| Gamarjoba, dear readers! It's Lily Girma here, your travel correspondent delivering industry news and insights on how to be a better traveler. By the way, that's how you say hello in Georgia—the country, not the state—and it literally translates as "may you be victorious!"
Last month, I spent seven seemingly victorious days in the eastern European country known as the cradle of wine. My visit was timed to coincide with the United Nations' World Tourism Day, which falls on September 27 every year. I'll admit that I felt unsure, a tad nervous even, of the kind of atmosphere I'd find on that side of Europe, given Georgia's proximity to Russia and the conflict with Ukraine.  A monument to King Vakhtang Gorgasali, who ruled in Georgia during the 5th and 6th centuries, overlooking Tbilisi. Photographer: Andrey Rudakov/Bloomberg But Sakartvelo—as Georgians call their homeland—actually turned out to be a welcome respite from the chaos of the world. Tbilisi was delightfully easy to explore on foot, from Rustaveli Avenue, a grand tree-lined boulevard flanked by a mix of neoclassical, Moorish revival and contemporary architecture, home to museums and fashion retailers—with brand names etched in Georgian alphabet letters—to Old Tbilisi's cobblestoned streets, past sidewalk cafés adjacent to diverse spiritual centers. How often do you encounter a city with a Georgian Orthodox cathedral, a synagogue and a mosque just steps from one another? Or tourist groups with no selfie-sticks in hand? And a central historic neighborhood without a slew of gimmicky souvenir shops?  Customers at an outdoor restaurant terrace in Tbilisi on May 12, 2024. Photographer: Andrey Rudakov/Bloomberg At the entrance of the Rike Cable Car, too, lines moved seamlessly and within minutes we were soaring over Tbilisi, taking in panoramic views of the city's modern Bridge of Peace, made of steel and glass, extending over the Kura River and contrasting against red terracotta tiled rooftops. The most commotion I experienced during my stay was at the Shumi winery, in Georgia's main wine-producing region of Kakheti, or 1.5-hour drive east of Tbilisi in the foothills of the Caucasus mountains. In a gardenside pavilion, a group of Chinese tourists were cheering while stomping on grapes inside a wooden, boat-shaped container. Georgian folkloric music and their enthusiastic claps drowned out the squish of their plastic boots. Steps away, three of us were learning to make Georgian dumplings, our fingers carefully twisting small mounds of dough filled with seasoned ground beef, giggling at our lack of culinary prowess. We were all fully immersed in the moment—with our Georgian hosts and with each other, as tourists.  Making dumplings at Shumi Winery in Kakheti, Georgia. Photographer: Lebawit Girma/Bloomberg Part of this lack of crowds and commercialization in Georgia, of course, is that the country is still relatively new to tourism, compared to say, Spain or France. And it's still aiming to recoup its tourist arrival numbers following the pandemic and neighboring conflict. In 2023, Georgia received 6.1 million international travelers—just 75% of its 2019 overseas visitation levels. The country has also undergone periods of social transformation since 2022, in part due to the more than 100,000 Russians who moved to Georgia as a result of the war. My tour guide, Kartlos Chabashvili, founder of InterGeorgia Travel, said that maintaining peace remains primordial for most Georgians, who harbor memories of Russian occupation. (Georgia obtained independence in 1991, but two regions, Abkhazia and South Ossetia, remain occupied by Russia). There's hope in the European Union's decision, a year ago, to grant Georgia candidate status for EU membership. Ultimately, I decided that Georgia's allure wasn't just about a lack of crowds, but that it's linked to a deeply entrenched belief in hospitality. Throughout my trip, locals explained that Georgians don't like calling visitors "tourists"—they are stumari or guests, and guests are considered a gift from God. Perhaps that's it— respect begets respect? Either way, this visit left me with an inexplicable sense of nostalgia for the way travel used to be, as more of a simple adventure into a new culture where I'm welcomed, irrespective of my race and religion, and where cultural connection is made easy.
This desire for simplicity and spontaneity on trips is apparently a growing trend, according to a recent report by Hilton Hotels, which calls it "soft travel." (TikTok has also been hyped up on the term for months.) We're seeking destinations "that offer a respite from the relentless pace of modern life." It seems obvious enough, but this time the desire is greater than ever for offbeat locations or undertouristed countries which, like Georgia, would be delighted to receive guests.  Romania is another uncrowded destination we love so much, we recommended it in our Where to Go in 2024 list. Click here for our complete guide to Romania, by a local expert. Photographer: Adrian Catalin Lazar/Getty Images For me, simplicity means going with the flow, so I embraced the role of a good stumari: I ended my four-year alcohol hiatus to sample Georgian wine—made through a slow, natural fermentation process inside qvevri, oversized earthenware pots that are "planted" underground, rather than in barrels. This 8,000-year old winemaking tradition has been passed down through generations, and is designated as a Unesco Intangible Cultural Heritage. I confess that I had copious amounts of amber, saperavi (dry red) and Tsinandali (crisp, floral white) wines, which went down so easily with meals. But I steered clear of chacha, Georgians' beloved potent (40%-60%) distilled spirit made from leftover grape seeds and skin. By the end of the week, I'd lost count of how many times we raised our glasses, toasting to hospitality, family and peace in our respective homelands: Gaumarjos! Cheers! | 
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