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Intro
Birthdays. Some of us can be really particular about our special days. They only come around once a year, so we crave perfection in day form. We want them to be memorable, enjoyable, and captivating. So, it stands to reason that traveling during your birthday would be a good idea right? Like, you get to be somewhere abroad, you get to be doing cool things at a fantastic destination while you’re inching ever closer to death! But what happens when your whole gimmick is that you’re a big boi cuz you can travel alone? Then, you could lose the accumulated gimmickry in a second if someone tries to illegally touch you!
Where to Stay on my Birthday?
Going into Batumi, I was about to enter my first city out of the few I’d chosen for a two-week-long trip through Georgia. Coming off a strong and successful month-long trek into Turkey, I found myself excited to venture into this much-lesser-known land. Literally, inspired to visit the nation due to playing as Tamar in Civilization VI, I felt the familiar antsiness associated with entering a foreign nation for the first time.
Couchsurfing
In Turkey, I relied quite heavily on Couchsurfing. The kindness of strangers proved mostly worthwhile indeed, keeping both my loneliness and bank account in check. Furthermore, they provided me with great friends and classic moments you will never hear about it unless I vaguely touch upon them in blog posts like these. So, going into Georgia, I hesitated to book a hostel in Batumi, and preferred to stay with locals.
Naturally, this led me back to Couchsurfing to find a spot for the two nights I’d spend in Batumi. I made a Public Trip on Couchsurfing, meaning that other users could message me to host or meet up with me instead of me contacting them. Hooray for laziness! However, one clear drawback of this method is that you may have less success finding hosts as you’ve less direct control. That was the case here in Batumi for me. I got message after message but none really amounted to much, especially not for hosts. Then finally I did get an offer.
Batumi is weird!
It was a guy, in his thirties who messaged me inviting me to stay at his apartment. I was delighted to see this and reveled in the opportunity to do it. As is my custom, I checked his profile, looking for reviews Couchsurfing calls References, to see if he was the real deal. It didn’t take long to find a disturbing trend. As I read the reviews, he was praised as a kind and knowledgeable host who would guide his guests, and welcome them into his home and all he asked was the ability to touch you while you are sleeping. Wait what? Yeah, you read that right. Most of his reviews were like this, praising his hospitality before dropping that predatory bombshell. Lo and behold, I never responded and booked my hostel soon thereafter. I did hope for a memorable birthday but that’s not what I meant.
How to Celebrate in Batumi?
There’s a slight problem with birthdays. With the very nature of traveling abroad, you’re in a place you don’t know with perhaps a language you can’t speak and you can’t control what goes on around you. Nevertheless, as I lacked control over time magic, I had no choice but to turn 21 in Batumi with not enough money in my tummy to make it extravagant. Little did I know that the number 20 would continuously haunt me.
Revenge of the Scammers
I remember a surreal wave washing over me as the bus took me across the border. We had to exit into a station to get our passports stamped, somewhere called Sarpi. After that, the bus ceased existing and I had to find a minibus or taxi to get into the city of Batumi itself. Being the incredibly brave and courageous soul I was, I was quickly intimidated to pants-soiling degrees by the minibusses and therefore opted for a taxi. I can’t speak Georgian, so I just waved my arms vividly and screeched out “Batumi”. He said something 20, which I converted to around $8 and we were gone.
The ride into Batumi revealed the scenic revelry of the Black Sea Coast and foreshadowed the glitz and glamor of what historians and gambling addicts have dubbed ‘the Las Vegas of Georgia’ or ‘the Las Vegas of the Caucasus’. Or is it ‘the Las Vegas of the Black Sea’? Either way, it’s like Vegas but faked. And speaking of which, scamming time! So when I arrived at my hostel, I went to pay dude with the little Georgian Lari I acquired at that point.
Batumi is weird!
However, when I handed him the goodies, he wrapped his hands around his face in distraught awe. He let out that he said Do-lari which I guess meant US dollars, not Lari as in Georgian currency. So he wanted $20 for the trip. Like a badass, however, I refused. I would not be swayed by his slobbish expression. No, I was beyond that. Instead, I did him one better. I gave him literally all the cash I had and then bolted out of the car to safety…
About an hour later, my generosity would be tested again as I walked down the streets of downtown Batumi and this guy began a conversation with me. We bonded over the fact I’d just come from Turkey as he was a Turkish immigrant himself. He was struggling though and he asked for some money. I gave him 20 Lari and he squinched up his face and told me this wasn’t good enough. Like a badass renewed, I snatched the money out of his palm and glared at him with an icy antarctic stare. I said, “Hey buster, if 20s not good for you, then make like a kangaroo and hoppity hop hop the fuck out of here.” Terrified of my awesome prose, he begged for the money back. As an established taker of no L’s, I… promptly gave it back, plus more, before running away in shame.
Checking In
I didn’t really plan to do anything special upon turning 21 in Georgia. Since the city was known for casinos, I immediately thought to visit one, which would have been a first for me. However, already not the wealthiest, I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Instead, I started the day meagerly, by retreating to the hostel and planning to explore the town slightly later. The hostel was nice enough when I arrived, quickly passing my admittedly very low bar. The staff then asked me if I was OK being in a room with a cat. I was like ‘yeah I like cats’. It never occurred to me why there would be a cat in my hostel.
Meowing Misery
The cat belonged to a French tourist sharing the room with me. For privacy purposes, let’s call him John Cena. So John Cena traveled with this young kitten. There’s more on that story here but suffice it to say I was pleasantly charmed by the furry friend the first night. We played around and he even laid beside me as I wrote my little critically acclaimed (but not really) travel journal. John Cena had been staying at the hostel for months already by the time I met him which was questionable enough. Nevertheless, he defended his decision to travel with a kitten. His explanation – nothing really. He just did it. Are you gonna probe John Cena for answers though!? No! You’re not! So get off my back!
It did present a lot of red tape to his travels, mostly when it came to transporting the cat through planes, ferries, and trains. He had to even directly search for hostels that would accept guests of the feline persuasion before booking his lodgings. I talked for a little while with him, sharing some snack food and petting the cat. I couldn’t help but succumb to a melancholic feeling regarding this guy traveling alone with just a cat and going to great lengths to ensure the strange partnership could work. Maybe he just needed the companionship, I thought. Or he just really liked cats. I suppose it didn’t have to have a deeper meaning behind it. However, I can’t deny that’s where my assumptions went immediately.
The Birds will Keep you Company
So now I started walking across these big Boulevard in Batumi. There’s a nice waterfront with a lot of interesting sculptures including the famous… Yeah, it has a name but there’s probably a picture you can see above. You know what I mean unless you don’t. I don’t know, shut up and let me continue. So anyways, I remember staring off into the Black Sea. There were a bunch of black birds flying above me and I was listening to You Get What You Give by the New Radicals which is a banger undoubtedly.
The sunset filled the hole in my core from being alone on my birthday, seemingly justifying the decision to come here all by itself. The birds played a supporting role of course. At that moment, the chance to turn 21 alone as I entered Europe Square felt like a blessing. Europe Square is an interesting name for the Square as Georgia is usually not the first nation that comes to mind when one thinks about Europe. The architecture too is all exuberant and whimsical, fitting a sort of idealized view of what we expect European building styles to be. It’s something I couldn’t put my finger on, even when I walked past buildings and put my fingers on them to mark my territory. I learned a lot from that cat, okay?
At least there’s Champagne
Speaking of meow-sayers, I spent the night back at the hostel. I entered the upstairs kitchen in search of grub and instead found the Frenchman, aka Big Match John aka John Cena as well as a Jordanian tourist who we’ll call The Undertaker. I sat down with them and began talking primarily to The Undertaker. He was really funny and social, explaining to me the intricate social and racial dynamics of the prostitution scene in Jordan. As an aside, for anyone interested in that, stop being interested. Get some help! The Undertaker, naturally being a creature of the night, had a super early flight in two nights’ time back to uh… some country probably on Earth. I forgot!
I remember drinking with the two of them and laughing a lot. Upon telling them it was my birthday, John Cena, being French, whipped out a baguette from his pocket to give to me. Okay, not really, but he did share some bread with me. The Undertaker shared some alcohol to feed my self-destructive urges and we continued to banter. Undertaker mentioned one continuous theme in these travels we all related to, the fact we’re all broke but somehow traveling the world. Sounds dumb but I swear that really do be happening, at least in my case. I spoke French too and well, let’s just say John Cena was not too impressed with it.
Batumi is weird!
Getting progressively drunk, we spoke in low whispers about a group of Indian tourists supposedly sharing the room with The Undertaker. It was very late and they hadn’t arrived yet. In our stupor, they took the form of mythic beings, as we wondered when they would arrive to bless us with their presence. When they did, it was all hell that broke loose. It was a whole family or so and I guess they never received the memo about a cat in the hostel. Some of them were sharing the room with John Cena and I after all. A huge freakout session followed this as they ran in fear of a… kitten and in turn, the kitten became overwhelmed and started hiding under the bunk beds, further preventing the incoming tourists from entering the room in peace.
I suppose all the commotion should have kept me up at night but eh I had earplugs, alcohol, and the nifty ‘it ain’t my cat’ attitude to fall back on as I drifted off to bid my first night in Batumi adieu. Adieu! Get it? Cuz John Cena is French! No? Should I go to the guillotine…
When the Toddlers catch you Lacking
I’d hoped to maybe catch John Cena or the Undertaker on my way out as I started my first day as a 21-year-old. I caught something else instead. Heading out to the boardwalk area again, my annoying child sensors began to go off. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little boy and girl approach. Naturally, I did what any sane person would do and sped up my walk. However, they were faster than snails and so caught up fast. They spoke to me in Georgian and obviously, I didn’t understand. I just shook my head and said ‘nah homie I don’t play like that. I’m a real one’.
Little did I know they did indeed play like that! I was promptly assaulted in public. Well, not really. They just hugged their bodies around mine, the little boy wrapping his entire being around my leg and the little girl my arm. It was to the point where the mere act of walking became nearly impossible. I was stunned. They were clamped onto me tightly as I continued to move through the path, embarrassed whenever a bystander would spot me chained down by two small children. I needed a way out of this uncomfortable humiliation. But what? There comes a point in every young traveler’s life when they need to make the decision whether to choose violence or not. But, what the hell did I look like beating up two little kids in a foreign land in broad daylight?
Batumi is weird!
I wish I could say that I unearthed more of my inner badass tendencies. I wish I could say my reputation as a world-famous hard boi preceded me and sent fear deep into the nervous systems of the kids. No, instead I was a nervous system, staying wrapped in child for like five minutes til a Georgian man casually saved me. He walked by, hands in pockets the entire time, and just said maximum 3.6 words in Georgian, and the kids dispersed back to kid land. Shamed once more, I gave a weak smile and said thank you.
Not that this is important or related… but, I learned Batumi was a hard-boiled sort of place. You had to be careful going into clubs, bars, or “Thai massage parlors” because they were mostly controlled by organized crime who were quick to take advantage of the unsuspecting tourist. The Undertaker told me about another foreigner, I think a German, who took the minibus somewhere and wanted to sit next to one guy on one of the couch-like seats, due to the minibus’ typical fullness and lack of comfort. In response, the guy did the right thing and demanded the minibus stop, led the German out, and casually threatened to murder him. He whipped a blade and held this man at knifepoint, promising him execution if he dared desire comfortable seating again. Then, they both returned to the minibus.
Checking Out
My birthday was a day old by my last night in Batumi. I say last night but there were literally only two nights so it’s not really saying much at all. Luckily, I caught up with John Cena and The Undertaker again. We enjoyed some more conversation, with Taker claiming he came to seek me out for alcoholic wonder but was unable to find me. I felt betrayed by my lack of boozy instincts as I had spent the day alone instead. All I had to show for it was my first bites of Katchapuri and Khinkhali. If that’s not the correct spelling, feel free to threaten me at knifepoint. Google is like six tabs away now and I can’t be bothered.
The Grand Feline-ale
That night I learned the French word ‘putain’ as somehow John Cena lost his feline friend. He went downstairs to search and came back up saying the door to our room had been left open. He grew increasingly unhinged, freaking out at the thought of the cat running away. I became the scapegoat as he accused me of leaving the door open too. Good thing I had my trusty knife to keep him from wildin’ too much. Nah, just kidding. I denied it of course but honestly, it was hard to convince him. I grew anxious and partially annoyed at this as he ransacked the hostel, going inside and out wailing the cat’s name in vain.
Batumi is weird!
The Undertaker and I merely sat there, both feelin’ uneasy about the situation. Only then, as John Cena was franticly searching outside, did we both open up about the situation. We both wondered about how he was able to travel with a cat, what the reason behind it was, and what could have led to this. Undertaker agreed with my assessments of loneliness however they did little to satiate the guilt I felt over possibly losing this man his cat. I returned to the room, the only place I knew I could rightfully search.
What John Cena, the Undertaker, and yours truly, failed to predict was secondhand alcoholism. You see, the hostel was right next to a bar and that’s where the young mammal was found. It wasn’t even hiding, just exploring the liquor cabinet. Do you call it that in a bar? Idk. Batumi is weird. So our cats. The cat must have taken after its owners and decided to drown its sorrows in alcohol too as it lay amongst the whiskey bottles to the chagrin of the bar owners. John Cena, however, shed wild tears, hugging his pet as we all smiled on his behalf. I felt vindicated. Did I get an apology though? No, of course not. This isn’t about me! But did I still feel bad about that? Yes… I’m selfish haha.
End of an Era (but not really though)
And that pretty much ended my Batumi vacation. I went to sleep, woke up, and left, as you do. It was short but sweet and memorable as hell. Not only had I turned 21, legally able to drink, smoke, and gamble in the States but I had some swell memories to attach to my birthday as well. Thanks for reading and if you want swell memories too, check out some more content below. We got more of Georgia if that’s what you want! I won’t hold you! Thanks for the readery! Go now, adopt a cat today! Threaten to stab people! Live your best life! NOW!
[…] reasons I ever went somewhere. As I said, weird was a theme in Georgia, from my opening days in Batumi to me trudging through the glacial mountains near Mestia and using Google Translate to navigate my […]