After a day immersed in early Georgian history, Kutaisi felt like a gentle shift in rhythm.

Set in western Georgia on the banks of the Rioni River, Kutaisi is the country’s third-largest city and the capital of the Imereti region. Long before modern borders, it served as the capital of the ancient Colchis kingdom — a name that still echoes through mythology. The Greek tale of Jason and the Argonauts and their search for the Golden Fleece is often linked to this region, and even today locals speak of an old tradition of using fleeces to trap gold particles carried down mountain rivers.

Kutaisi has been inhabited since at least the 6th century BC, yet it wears its age lightly. Many travellers pass it by, using it merely as a transit point, but the city retains a quiet, lived-in charm that rewards a slower visit.

Prometheus Cave — Nature Takes Over

The highlight of the day was a visit to Prometheus Cave, located near the village of Kumistavi, about 20 kilometres from Kutaisi. After churches and cathedrals, stepping into the cave felt like entering a different register altogether — one shaped entirely by water, time, and patience.

Discovered in the early 1980s by a team of Georgian speleologists led by Jumber Jishkariani, the cave complex was opened to the public only in 2011. Visitors are guided along a well-laid concrete path through six of the cave’s halls — Argonauts, Kolkheti, Medea, Love, Prometheus, and Iberia — part of a much larger system still being explored.

Stalactites and stalagmites rise and fall in silence, forming shapes that feel at once deliberate and accidental. The temperature inside remains a steady 14°C year-round, a welcome contrast regardless of the season. Our walk through the 1.4-kilometre route took just under an hour, unhurried and absorbing.

At the end of the route, a short underground boat ride is usually offered, though it was closed when we visited due to weather conditions. Even without it, the caves felt complete — a reminder that nature, left alone, builds on a scale no civilisation can quite match.

Gelati Monastery — Learning and Faith

From the caves, we returned to history, though of a quieter kind, at Gelati Monastery, about 11 kilometres from Kutaisi. Founded in 1106 by King David IV — known as David the Builder — the monastery stands as a monument to Georgia’s medieval Golden Age.

Set in a green ravine along the Tskaltsitela River, Gelati is both austere and refined. Its architecture reflects balance and restraint: smoothly hewn stone blocks, harmonious proportions, and understated exterior decoration. Inside, mosaics and frescoes dating from the 12th century onwards speak of theological depth and artistic confidence.

Gelati was not only a religious centre but also an intellectual one. The Gelati Academy, attached to the monastery, functioned as a medieval educational institution where philosophy, science, and translation flourished. Though it declined in the late Middle Ages, its legacy remains strong enough that a modern scientific academy was re-established here in 1995.

It is also the burial place of several Georgian kings, including David IV himself — his tomb marked not by grandeur, but by humility.

Bagrati Cathedral — A Fragmented Symbol

Overlooking Kutaisi from Ukimerioni Hill stands Bagrati Cathedral, a symbol of Georgia’s medieval unity. Built in the early 11th century by King Bagrat III, the cathedral once represented the political and spiritual consolidation of the kingdom.

Time has not been kind to Bagrati. Damaged by invasions and neglect, it stood in ruins for centuries. Restoration efforts began in the mid-20th century and intensified after independence, culminating in major reconstruction works completed in 2012.

While the cathedral was added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 1994, concerns over authenticity and structural intervention led to its delisting in 2017. Even so, standing before it today, one cannot miss the sense of scale and ambition that once defined it. Ruined or restored, it still dominates Kutaisi’s skyline — a reminder that heritage is often as much about debate as preservation.

A Note on the Road

On the way to Kumistavi, we passed through Tskaltubo, once a celebrated Soviet-era resort town. Its abandoned sanatoriums, slowly being reclaimed by time, hinted at another layer of Georgia’s recent past — one we only glimpsed in passing.

Kutaisi, taken as a whole, felt like a pause. Less declarative than Tbilisi, less symbolic than Mtskheta, but essential all the same. A day where history stepped aside just enough for water, air, and space to speak.