To have Georgia on your mind
Neighbouring Georgia, your hide will be peeled well and good in water that’s hot as hell. By
and recent archaeological discoveries have uncovered baths complete with a sophisticated plumbing system dating back to the first century CE.
Tbilisi lies on the cusp between East and West on the old Silk Road – a crossroads of trade and industry since time immemorial. Owing to its geographically strategic position, Georgia has been under siege from the Persians, Romans, Greeks, Byzantine Empire, Seljuk and Ottoman Turks, Mongols, Russians and others.
Communal hot-water bathing became an entrenched social habit in Tbilisi. By the 13th century, man-made sulphur basins in the vicinity numbered more than 60 before they gradually started to decrease to the 10 or so there are today.
The Georgian baths constitute much, much more than just a vehicle for mental and spiritual purification. Though traditions such as the dubious bride check (in which mothers- and aunts-in-law gather at the baths to check potential brides for bodily defects) have all but faded, the baths still serve as important centres for entertainment, catching up on essential gossip and other social interactions.
“Going to the baths” is probably one of the only excuses accepted in
Georgia when declining food.
(Bathing in these thermal streams can cause wooziness on a full stomach.) There’s a reason Georgia has only one golf course.
In Tbilisi, many deals are still brokered and broken in the baths.
(Honesty has a better chance of prevailing when your defences are down. Which one hopes they would be, as it’s probably best for men not to display too much excitement under such conditions.)
People across the globe also flock to such healing waters to alleviate symptoms of everything from headaches to eczema. Soaking in sulphuric springs can significantly reduce the swellings that increase arthritic and other muscle joint pains and is known to nurture hair, skin, nails and connective tissue.
Yearning bathers can’t miss the action in Tbilisi. The primary bathing houses are all clustered in the centre of town in the Abanotubani (bath district) off Abano (yes, Bath) Street on the leafy banks of the treelined Mtkvari River that curls through the capital. It is instantly recognisable by the series of earthen Byzantine domes that pop up like pith helmets to cover the aquatic subterranean pleasure palace.
Here is Erekle bathhouse, named after King Erekle II, a descendent of the Bagratis – the 12th-century rulers of Georgia who concluded a crucial alliance with Russia’s Catherine the Great during her robust southward expansion.
Nearby, the prismatic splattering of sparkling shards that cover the mosque-like façade of the Orbeliani
baths projects an aura of the Orient on the entire area.
It stands in the shadow of the Narikala fortress wall and the ancient Azeri district. Across the waterway, the bold equestrian figure who started it all, King Vakhtang Gorgasali, keeps watch from his perch on the riverbank.
The public baths are gender-specific but mixed private suites can be booked for a heftier fee (though with the advantage that the price can be split among bathers, so the larger the group, the lighter the burden).
All contain squeaky clean massage tables, showers, bathrooms and dressing rooms, and cold and hot tubs. Proceedings start with a leisurely soaking, followed by a massage, exfoliation, soap, rinse and tea.
Afterwards, you can wiggle your knackered corpus into a towelled toga that can be hired on the premises together with flipflops, soap and towels.
And when it’s all over, when you’re done with all the scrubbing and pummelling and kneading and you sit there feeling the gentle, comforting weariness wash over you as you sip your cup of tea, you can rest, assured in the knowledge that your bum may well be benched in the very same seat once occupied by Alexander Dumas.