The moment I touched the induction stove, a tingly shock ran through my fingertips. Georgia, Tbilisi, day two. My first time cooking for myself started, of all things, with an electric shock.
Electrocuted pasta, and an overly lax helper
I woke up at 8 a.m. and headed to the supermarket first. Yesterday's store was overpriced, so I decided to try a different one.
Eight yogurts, bananas, cheese, sirok (a type of curd cheese). And pasta too. That came to 2,000 yen. Prices are rising. It's really expensive.
Back home, I decided to make pasta since I had the ingredients, and touched the induction stove. Zzzzt. A strong electric shock ran through me. No matter how much I touched it, the electricity didn't stop. Was it charged? Even when I pressed one hand against the wall, it kept buzzing zzzzz. It hurt.
With no other choice, I poured water into a pot and boiled it, switching to a strategy of not touching the IH directly.
My first-ever tasteless pasta. I had nothing to put on it, so I seasoned it with only the salt and pepper that were there. Not exactly delicious. But it was edible.
Bread with Georgian script and VIOLA cheese.
More problems followed. Water was dripping from the pipe and the floor was soaked. When I contacted the owner, a helper lady came in 30 minutes. Fast response.
She tried hard to speak English. About the leak, about the IH's electromagnetic waves. As she was trying to explain things, I started speaking Russian.
'Oh, you! You can speak Russian!'
From that moment, the conversation took off. Speaking Russian face-to-face after a long time. Even with a woman of about forty, just communicating in Russian was genuinely fun. There was an indescribable happiness.
I truly felt glad I chose Georgia. Russian works here. Just that made life much easier.
She wiped the water off the floor with a squeegee and asked in Russian, 'I'll call an engineer in the afternoon, is that okay?' I told her I had a meeting at noon, so please have them come after 1 p.m.
Come to think of it, I also asked about how to use the TV, but even the owner's helper said, 'No, I don't know that.'
In Japan, if a pipe leaked it would probably start with 'sorry.' But the woman seemed a bit bothered and the TV ended up unusable. This laid-backness is the best. I love it.
After the meeting, the woman came back with an engineer. They spoke in Georgian so I had no idea what they were saying. But the pipe was successfully fixed.
She told me in Russian, 'It's fixed~.' She explained a bunch more after that, but after a long time speaking Russian I couldn't understand everything. Still, it was fun.
She told me, 'If there's trouble, contact me on WhatsApp,' and we exchanged contacts. Her profile picture is totally embellished.
Heading for the hilltop café
4:30. After finishing a bit of coding work, I went out. I headed to a restaurant recommended yesterday by a Russian named Konstantin. No embarrassment or anything; I just focused on going into the restaurant.
Tbilisi after the rain.
It had rained in the morning, but it had stopped. Strong sunlight was shining on the city. I walked and walked while listening to music.
Walking through the town there were young people and older people. A fairly ordinary town. But there were people from the Middle East and Iran, as well as Russians and Georgians. There's really a variety of people.
The first restaurant Konstantin recommended was Mapshalia. When I went, it was full. It's only 3 p.m. and there were lots of people. So when would it be empty?
Reluctantly, I decided to head to the other recommendation, Khinkali House. I could get khinkali. That alone lifted my spirits.
A bridge over the Kura River. Only two buildings are visible.
I crossed the bridge and kept walking. Along the way, there were tourists taking photos in the middle of the bridge.
Being alone feels a bit unsettling. But at the same time it's enjoyable. When walking with friends, you're absorbed in conversation and miss some of the scenery. Alone, your head opens up and you can absorb more. You feel even more that you're walking the Earth.
I confidently crossed a pedestrian crossing with no traffic lights while cars drove by. In Japan that would be totally out of the question, but in Georgia this is normal. I've gotten used to it.
I climbed a hill until I was sweating and stopped to rest when I reached a park. Sitting on a bench and checking dishes, a man of about 40 spoke to me in Georgian.
When I answered in Russian, 'I don't understand,' he said, 'Oh, you can speak Russian, huh.'
He said he hadn't eaten for two days and was going back to Azerbaijan tomorrow, and asked if I could treat him — even just a shawarma would be fine.
He didn't look dangerous. His clothes weren't clean, and he seemed genuinely in need. I wanted to help. But I didn't have the courage.
I worried, what if we go somewhere together and something happens? That kind of caution kicked in. I'm sorry, I said, and refused.
When I declined, the man said, 'Ah, I see. Okay. It's fine,' and left. But his eyes were on my iPhone—like he was thinking, 'You have that phone but not even 5 lari?'
Sorry. It's not that I don't have money. I'm just not ready yet. It's only my second day in Georgia. I'm still not used to things.
I felt pathetic. It hit me how small I still am. We're human after all, I thought I should have helped. I'm really sorry, sir.
The Caucasus mountains and Tbilisi spreading at their foothills.
I reached the top of the hill. The view from there was incredible. Mountains and a city formed at their base. I soaked in the beauty of the Caucasus with my whole body.
I kept looking for Khinkali House, but the place I finally found was empty and suspicious. When I checked, there are five different places called Khinkali House. I needed to ask Konstantin which one he meant.
In the square by a nearby metro station someone was playing an instrument. I listened for a while, sat down and watched people. I wondered what Georgians are like.
Saperavi and khachapuri, and then 'I did it'
When I tried to go to a khachapuri place called Pinocchio, it was closed. In the end, I went into that stylish café I had found earlier. The door was ridiculously heavy. I managed to have fluent conversation in English with the staff. They seated me on the outdoor terrace.
All in Georgian.
When in Georgia: I ordered Saperavi wine and small-sized khinkali. It came to about 1,200 yen. A bit pricey, but the best time.
Terrace seating, overlooking the streets of Tbilisi.
I did it.
I was able to come to Georgia on my own. Being able to eat while looking at this view — a truly important moment.
When the waiter poured me wine I asked, 'This is Georgian wine, right?' Maybe I'm starved for people, but I've become spontaneously open-minded and able to communicate.
People feel lonely without connections. To prevent that loneliness, they try hard to make connections. I felt that this is exactly happening to me right now.
When a guy with permed light-brown hair brought the khachapuri, he asked, 'This is also Georgian food, do you know it?' I replied, 'Yes! Khachapuri!' and he said, 'Correct! Enjoy!'
I was happy. I was smiling too.
Saperavi wine is very delicious. But it's a deep purple, and after drinking it my lips turned purple. It made taking a selfie a little difficult.
Purple lips.
It's getting cold and dark outside. I paid the bill and went down the hill.
Walking the nighttime streets while listening to music was incredibly fun. There were many cars and not a single other Japanese person like me. Amazing. Among people from the Middle East, Georgia, and Russia, Asians stand out. Sometimes you're looked at strangely. Well, of course.
Nighttime Tbilisi reflected in the Kura River.
When I got near home, I decided to make a detour. I found a street lined with stall-like eateries: Persian restaurants, Turkish restaurants, all kinds of places. Foreigners were eating there too.
A khachapuri magnet. Cute.
The souvenir shops had Georgian T-shirts and magnets. I want to buy some before I leave.
After passing through a dark alley, I went to the supermarket one last time. I bought Georgian wine, a corkscrew, and muscat grapes for 50 yen. Fifty yen. Cheap.
I went home and ate the fruit. It was simply delicious.
Today, I accomplished something.
'Going into a restaurant alone.'
Even when I was in Russia, I had resistance to going into a restaurant alone. It took courage. But today I went into a café alone, ordered food, and ate on the terrace. Even that feels like a really big step forward. I did it.
Furthermore, I was able to come to Georgia by myself. Something I've thought since 2019: I want to be a nomad in Georgia someday. Now I can do that.
Every day I set new challenges for myself so I can gain confidence. The aftertaste of the Saperavi I drank on the hill is still on my lips.
