How much is a taxi in Tbilisi

Drunk after a long meal of wine and barbecue, I’d stand at the curb, wave my hand, and miraculously a dozen odd vehicles would line up on the street, honking and shouting, asking to take me somewhere. The cars were anything from dusty Lada Jigulis to shining Mercedes, anyone who was out driving and bored or needing some extra cash was there to pick up strangers on the side of the road.

Even if you didn’t need a taxi, often a car would pull up to your side and creep along, with the driver sticking his head out and whispering, “Taxi? Taxi? You want taxi?” My American lady friends thought they were just being targeted by creepy guys, but this wasn’t necessarily the case. The Georgian taxi driver did this to everyone. Albeit, this didn’t mean he wasn’t creepy…

That was the taxi situation 10 years ago.

Times have changed though.

Recent laws and Georgians’ love for copying successful trends have done a lot. Firstly, the government required every street taxi to undergo a white facelift and to get a proper license. So now when you wave your hand, only a couple of white cars will pull over, and each of those white cars will typically have a taxi sign and a license. Probably for the better, but it has certainly decreased the completely random conversations with old guys about how they’ve got 12 law and medical degrees from the Soviet Union and now they’re stuck driving a taxi in Tbilisi.

Prius, the unofficial car of Tbilisi taxi drivers

The other big thing is that deep in the taxi cave, where the Taximus Prime, Lord of Taxis lives, it was decided that every taxi driver should drive a Prius. He snapped his fingers and it became so. Now if you’re a taxi driver without a Prius, you’re dreaming of buying a Prius, and if you’re a security guard secretly yearning to be a taxi driver, then you think you have to buy a Prius first. And if you’re a Prius driver who doesn’t operate a taxi, you get confused for a taxi all the time. The trend is inexplicable, except in the case of there actually being a taxi god.

Getting a taxi and for how much

Just like hailing a taxi anywhere else: You stick your arm up when you see an approaching taxi. It’s easy these days to tell who is a taxi as the car must be white and there will be a sign on top, it will be lit red for occupied and green for available (not always, plenty of drivers are too lazy for this function).

Is he available? Is he not? Does he have a passenger? Eh, who cares!

The majority of taxis do not have meters. That means YOU MUST negotiate in advance. If you don’t, they’ll likely assume you’re an idiot foreigner and charge you an absurd amount of money. Within a neighborhood, expect from 3-5 lari, if you’re taking the taxi from one neighborhood to the next, like Rustaveli to Vake, expect 4-8 lari. If you’re going across town, expect 8-12 lari maximum. It’s okay to refuse a taxi and take someone else. Here I’m giving you typical foreigner rates, as Georgians can get them even cheaper.

Sometimes it's a Prius followed by a Mercedes

Tbilisi Taxi Apps

The best way to get a taxi is to just use an app. Bolt, Maxim, and Yandex all operate pretty large fleets here and you’ll generally never have to wait more than 8 minutes. Download the app ahead of time, and you can even use your credit card. Uber does not have a presence here, as they have a strategic deal with Yandex that they won’t enter any more post-Soviet markets. Do note Yandex is a Russian company (Maxim is Ukrainian, Bolt is Estonian), which doesn’t matter much except there apparently have been some reports that they send your info back to the Motherland. Those reports are from Georgian reporters though, so take that with a grain of salt.

Sitting down

Take a seat. Guys typically take the passenger seat up front. Ladies always in the back. Ladies should sit in the back because they don’t have to worry about the Costanza Move, “Stopping Short”, as illustrated here:

It’s generally pretty fun sitting in front for guys though. For one, you get to witness firsthand all the absurd driving going on. For two you can get into all sorts of awkward conversations about your salary, religion, and political positions – generally a taxi driver will bring up everything you consider taboo to discuss back home.

Tipping

Most taxi drivers will flat out refuse a tip, or even get confused and possibly insulted by your insistence to give extra money. Which is weird, because if you don’t have change they’ll also gladly keep the change when you didn’t intend to give them any. This I think depends on where they’re from. There are plenty of taxi drivers from the villages who don’t know what tipping is, and then there are those Tbilisi old timers who often do everything to cheat you out of your coins.

Other times it's a Mercedes followed by a Prius

Tbilisi airport taxi

There is a taxi mafia that exists at the airport, like anywhere else. Don’t use them. Supposedly the cost from the Tbilisi airport to the center should be about 25 or 30 lari to get to the center from the airport, but in reality these guys will try to charge you the equivalent in euro, or even charge up to 100 euro for the trip. The best thing then is to use one of the taxi apps, or to shuffle on over to the Arrivals gate and catch a taxi just arriving and dropping someone off. They’ll take you to the center for anywhere from 15 to 30 lari, which is far more appropriate.

And you’re off!

Now you should be prepared for taking a taxi in Tbilisi. That’s all the advice I can give you. By and large, they’re super friendly people, and I suggest chatting and getting some insight on the country. Most taxi drivers have chosen their profession because they enjoy people (and because they’re desperate for cash and their favorite hobby is driving in circles). But yeah, they’re nice people. Just start off by saying how much you love Georgia, and you’ll get a positive experience every time.

And yet other times it's a... wait, what is that car?

Lastly, if you’re looking for somewhere to go in that taxi, think about heading to the Philharmonia where you can start on a GPS-guided audiotour of Rustaveli that I’ve prepared over on VoiceMap. Check it out here. And if you enjoy it, please rate it!

#tbilisi #transit #georgia #taxi

The Suicidemobiles of Tbilisi

The suicide mobile, colloquially known as the “marshrutka”, is one of the primary modes of transport in Tbilisi and all of Georgia. And indeed, if you visit this country without riding in one of these daredevil tin cans, it can hardly be said that you’ve visited this country at all!

2020 was supposed to be the year ending the marshrutka, where Tbilisi City Hall was going to sit down and re-think all the routes, upgrading the majority of them to larger vehicles. This is primarily because the contract for The Marshrutka Company was going to run out. The Marshrutka Company, believe it or not, was a private company, proving that even private companies can be run as grossly incompetent as the government. Well done TMC! Their webpage is a joke, barely working on PC and forget about it on mobile (I mean, really, who would want to find a transit route on mobile?). Many of their routes simply overlaid already existent routes, the things are always overpacked, always zipping across lanes and cutting off other drivers, and always responsible for causing general mayhem on the streets. But then the genius mayor, Kakha Kaladze, a rich footballer who’s never taken public transit in his life, decided to keep the things around and scrap any plans for serious thought put into the transit system. I take that back, he did do a photo op on the bus once, so…

A beautiful marshrutka cruising down the middle land of Rustaveli

We were lucky a few years ago when they at least integrated the payment system, so that you can use the same card for metro, bus, and marshrutka. And even more, some charitable young Georgian made this web page to find routes. Like, seriously, if people have to do this kind of work for free while you do nothing but count your mounds of tetri, you’ve failed as a transit company.

The only time I ever take a marshrutka is when I’m traversing three neighborhoods and the destination isn’t on the same metro line. So from Isani to Pekini, I’d use a marshrutka. Or going anywhere in Vake, because Vake is a void of valid vehicular options.

Traveling across the country

If you’re wanting to go to the countryside, it’s likely you’ll have to take a marshrutka, as the places you can get to via a reasonable method of transit, ie train, are quite limited. Of course, you can always just rent a car as well. Strangely, there are direct marshrutkas to just about every village in the country.

You can always rent a car from these guys, like I do:

There are two main marshrutka stations in Tbilisi: Didube (Okribe) and Samgori. Smaller ones exist at Isani, Station’s Square, Sports Palace, and a few other places. Follow this basic rule of thumb: To get to anywhere in Kakheti or Kvemo-Kartli, just go to Samgori. To get anywhere else in the country, go to Didube. Just be aware that coming back, you might end up at one of those other stations. Never fear though, they’re all on a metro line (possibly the only reasonable thing about marshrutkas).

Okribe, a great place for marshrutkas and shawarmas

Don’t expect a schedule. Sure, they might say “The next masrhrutka leaves at 1:00”, but what they really mean is, “We’ll leave when we’re full.” Don’t stress out about it. Or even better, just buy a beer and sit back. But do remember there aren’t any pissy pauses.

Also, it’s not normal for marshrutkas to charge for luggage. The guy in Kazbegi tried to do this to me and two of my tourist friends. I told him where he could stick the luggage. He backed off and harassed some Asians instead. That said, you’re kind of at the mercy of the marshrutka driver.

That lady's about to wave down another marshrutka (see tip 2)

How do you ride a marshrutka in Tbilisi?

1. You figure out which marshrutka you need to take. The routes are printed in Georgian on a small card stuck in the windshield. Probably it’s better to check that guy’s website first.

2. Wave. The marshrutka will stop for you. Seriously. Unless you’re on a main route, where you have to do this at a bus stop. If you want to look like a local, you’ll actively seek out the most inconvenient and most dangerous place for the van to stop. In the middle of an intersection? Great! On the tightest section of a two-way street where only one car can pass at a time? Even better!

3. You get on and find a seat. Haha, just kidding. You get on and stand, cramped between a fat man and a lady with botoxed lips so far out that you’ve got to duck, and by ducking you stick your butt in some other lady’s face who’s constantly passive aggressively whining about this fact. And fat Georgian men make it a rule to stand up for every lady that gets on a marshrutka, so the aisle is always impassable. Wouldn’t it be a better rule to let these fat guys sit down and get the heck out of the way?

4. Since you probably didn’t get a seat, you’ll have to bend down really low to be able to see out and figure out where you are and where you’re going. And since the typical marshrutka driver is usually on his cell phone with one hand and the other is extended out of the cab with a cigarette or making obscene gestures at other drivers, and he’s swinging the wheel like a boat captain in a typhoon, it’s no easy thing to stay upright.

5. When you’re ready to get off, yell “Gaacheret!” (rhymes with caught). They’ll immediately pull over and stop. Since they like to speed down the middle lane, this often means they’ll cut off two or three lanes of traffic to get you to your stepping-off ground. This is unless you’re on a main road. Then you should yell “Shemdegi gacherebaze gaucheret!”

6. Squeeze past all the fat guys clogging up the aisle like corks in bottles.

7. Either give the driver 80 tetri, or a lari or two lari coin (they always have small change), OR swipe your metro card on the glove box until you hear a beep.

8. Step off and go directly to the medical clinic to make sure you didn’t catch the coronavirus after you were sneezed, coughed, and farted on.

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Also, if you want to tour Rustaveli, get off the marshrutka at Philharmonia and download my audioguide here at VoiceMap.

Riding the Tbilisi Metro

Watch it or read it or both

The Tbilisi metro is a beautiful thing. It’s a lifeline, it’s one of the few things that keeps Tbilisi chugging along, from falling into utter chaos and collapse. And it’s a miracle it still runs, despite the electric bugaloo that is Georgian politics. I can’t imagine the nightmare this city would be if it were only left to overcrowded suicide mobiles (marshrutkas) and einsturzende autobuses.

This woman prefers death by traffic to riding a suicide mobile ("marshrutka")

It was a mere accident of creation as well. It didn’t come about until the 60s, and for the sole reason of NATO expansion and unbridled Western aggression. You see, back then, Soviet policy was only to build metros in cities that had over one million people. Everyone else could have trams, trolleys, and marshrutkas (lucky them). Tbilisi at the time didn’t have a million people, but Georgia was on the front lines of NATO, sharing a border with Turkey. And that was the argument made: we need underground shelters for the people and military. A very good argument, since everyone remembered how amazing the Moscow metro worked out during World War II.

Into the underground city...

And so Tbilisi got a metro.

Riding the Tbilisi metro is interesting. It’s like a time capsule. It’s like the rest of the world moved on, but goshdarnit, not the metro. It still costs a measly 50 tetri a ride (which at once I’m glad, but also I wonder how it continues to operate), the escalators always look like they’re about to fall apart, where other metro systems have succumbed to Capitalist marketing mayhem on their heavily contended advert real estate, the Tbilisi metro stands true to its Communist roots and barely an advertisement can be seen (again, one wonders how it continues to operate) – that doesn’t mean adverts don’t have their place, but rather even the placards hung for ads often stand empty and broken. Overcrowded train cars, even at weird times like 10 pm on a Sunday, light bulbs that haven’t been replaced for thirty years, train cars that seem to bounce along the tracks, fat ladies in booths at the escalators whose only job is to do whatever the hell they’re doing that usually involves sitting on their cell phone browsing Facebook.

So much unused ad space! City Hall wtf are you thinking?!

When a city says it’s too poor to install a metro (*cough* Denver *cough*) I instantly think of Tbilisi. Not only are they too poor to have one, but by all logic they’re too poor to keep it running. But somehow it keeps going.

It’s like a metaphor for the city itself. The city is always on the edge of collapse. Not because of economics, or because of war or conspiracy theories. But because of the local culture, the absolute “I don’t really give a damn what happens outside my door” culture. It’s what I see America turning into. This urban hellscape doesn’t happen because of a failed economic system, it happens because of a failed morality.

And fellow Georgians, all this said, and I still do love living here.

And I’m still thankful that the metro exists. God I’m thankful for that.

How to Ride the Tbilisi Metro

For the newcomer and the visitor, here’s a short guide on how to ride:

1. You can recognize a metro entrance because there are usually 5 guys standing in the doorway shouting “Telavi!” “Kutaisi!” or other random cities. They don’t move out of the doorways. They assume everyone going to the metro actually just wants to hitch a ride with them. Also, if you’re handicap, you might as well give up and just take a taxi, this metro, like Tbilisi sidewalks, are not for you.

Maybe you want Akhmeta instead of Rustaveli? No?

2. You will instantly be harassed by dudes with trench coats that have a metrocard and want to swipe theirs for you. They’ll charge you the price of the ride. I’m not sure how they make money on this scheme, but ignore them because there’s clearly some funny business going on. Probably the police haven’t cracked down on them because they also can’t figure out why these guys prefer doing this to just effing getting a job at the local minimart. Does that honestly pay more? And if it does, gah, I’ve never been that pro minimum wage before, but I’ve been leaning that way lately.

3. Once in the metro, you have to buy a card. You can buy them where it says “metrocard”, big orange sign, not to be confused with the Bank of Georgia vendor that is in nearly every metro station as well. Don’t be embarrassed if you do confuse them, everyone does one time or another. Go up to the lady and say, “Minda barati” and throw down a bunch of lari. The card costs 2 lari, and every ride on a metro or bus costs 50 tetri (lari-cents) and marshrutka rides cost 80 tetri, so calculate how much you need.

This is the correct window

4. Swipe the card at the turnstile.

5. Ride down the escalator and hold on. These things are steep and fast. Apparently the Commies didn’t have safety regulations way back when, that kind of thing is clearly part of the DC/Brussels nightmare conspiracy. There will be a sign that says which cars go where, read it while you ride. Otherwise you have to go to the center of the hall and look at the wall to figure out which direction is which.

Hang on!

6. When the train cars come, notice what the locals do and follow. This means that you should push to get on the car before people get off. The more you’re in the way, the more you’ll fit right in and nobody will suspect you’re from abroad.

7. Make sure that you know how many stops you’re going. On rare occasions, the voice announcing the stops has just come back from a Georgian feast and just calls them out at random. And though this is rare, it always happens when you aren’t paying attention.

8. Getting off. This is my favorite part. I like to play the game Metro Chicken. When the doors open, people will try to rush on. This is where I like to stand firm. If you don’t let me off, you’re not getting on. Will they miss the train and you have to go to the next stop, or will they move aside and let you get off?

9. Ride up the escalators.

10. You’re free! Enjoy the rest of your day in our beautiful city.

If you enjoyed this list, make sure to subscribe to get some more insights into Georgian life or just enjoy the ride. And if you're looking for a tour, check out my audioguide of Rustaveli here on VoiceMap.