Not That Georgia: The One With Better Wine, Two Christmases, and a Big Heart for Americans

If you tell your friends you’re spending Christmas in Georgia, they’ll probably imagine sweet tea and Spanish moss. Let them. When you show up instead in Tbilisi, bundled in a scarf and sipping mulled wine along the Mtkvari River, you’ll have the quiet satisfaction of knowing you picked the wrong Georgia — and the right adventure.

Once part of the Soviet Union, Georgia has spent the past three decades rewriting its own story — swapping gray bureaucracy for color, creativity, and a remarkable spirit of hospitality. It’s a place where independence isn’t just political; it’s personal. And for Americans, that means a warm welcome with none of the red tape: no visa required for up to a year, and no shortage of locals eager to show off their country’s transformation.

A Tale of Two Christmases

Georgia doesn’t stop at one holiday. Because the Georgian Orthodox Church follows the old Julian calendar, Christmas is celebrated twice — first on December 25, and again on January 7, with the Alilo parade filling Tbilisi’s cobbled streets. Choirs sing, priests bless passersby, and children dressed as angels carry icons and sweets. For a visitor, it feels like stepping into a living postcard — one that somehow plays two carols at once.

Feasts, Toasts, and the Art of Being Full

Georgian hospitality begins at the dinner table and ends… well, it never really ends. Every meal is a supra — an extravagant feast where khachapuri (cheese-stuffed bread) and khinkali (steaming dumplings) appear in endless waves. The tamada, or toastmaster, lifts his glass of deep amber wine — which Georgians have been making for over 8,000 years — and raises it to friendship, peace, and the guests from afar. Americans, especially, are often toasted as symbols of curiosity and openness.

From Soviet Shadows to Snow-Capped Peaks

Outside the city, Georgia’s rebirth is written across its landscape. In Gudauri, a ski resort high in the Caucasus, you can carve down pristine slopes with views that make the Alps look crowded. In Svaneti, ancient stone towers rise like exclamation points above snow-dusted villages — reminders of a proud, defiant culture that survived both empires and communism. And on the Black Sea coast, Batumi glitters with modern architecture, palm trees, and holiday lights that shimmer well past midnight.

The Gift of the Unexpected

Georgia is proof that post-Soviet doesn’t mean post-joy. It’s a country that remembers hardship but prefers hospitality, that rebuilt itself with laughter, wine, and song. Safe, affordable, and profoundly welcoming to Americans, it feels both foreign and familiar — like finding a distant cousin you didn’t know you had.

So this Christmas, go ahead and tell everyone you’re off to Georgia. When they ask which one, just smile and say, “The one with better wine — and two Christmases.”

PROMPT: Write a 500-word newspaper article about an unexpected place to take a vacation over Christmas break. Choose somewhere that remains welcoming to Americans