Kvara and Khinkali: An odyssey through Georgia on the eve of footballing history
“What? Are you crazy? Why on earth are you going there?!”
This was generally the response I received when I told friends and colleagues that I was going on a nine-day solo trip to Georgia. Their reactions – a spectrum ranging from confusion to concern – crossed my mind as I stood in a park among a swelling mass of sweaty bodies, necks craned, tip-toes working overtime, thousands of people witnessing a historic moment in the story of a country that has seen it all. On Tuesday June 18, 2024, Georgia played its first-ever match at a major international tournament.
It seemed rude not to time my visit to overlap with the country’s opening match at Euro 2024, an occasion that promised to be special no matter the result. Georgia has only had a football team of its own since 1990; between 1921 and 1991 the country was part of the Soviet Union, with its footballers representing the CCCP. In March 2024, at the fifteenth attempt, Georgia qualified for a tournament with a penalty shootout victory against Greece in the play-off final. As you can imagine, Tbilisi and the rest of the country went absolutely nuts, so I knew I had to be there for their first match. Speaking to locals in the days leading up to their opening game against Turkiye, expectations were low; Georgia were the lowest ranked side going into the tournament (74th in the FIFA world rankings), but debuting on the continental stage was about much more than results.
Over the course of its 3,000 year-plus history, Georgia has been invaded and occupied by pretty much everyone.
The Romans, Persians, Arabs, Seljuk Turks, Mongols, Ottomans have all been and gone, while Russia decided that 70 years of Soviet rule wasn’t enough. In 2008 Russian forces invaded the self-proclaimed republics of South Ossetia and Abkhazia, and to this day effectively occupies 20% of Georgia. Millennia of occupation and repression has made the Georgian people incredibly proud of their identity and sovereignty, but has also created a rich melting pot of cuisines, architecture and people.
Traditional houses with their ornate wooden balconies are crammed into the cobblestone streets of the old town, diametrically opposed to the shimmering glass of the Bridge of Peace, crossing the Kura River just a few hundred metres away. Art Nouveau buildings rub shoulders with Soviet modernist structures, while every morning the iconic Mother of Georgia statue – looming over the city like Rio’s Christ the Redeemer – sees in the dawn alongside the 4th century Narikala fortress. The liberty and freedoms that came with leaving the Soviet Union in 1991 have created a distinctly bohemian feel to parts of the old city, with coffee shops, wine bars, galleries and DIY music venues hidden away in crumbling buildings. Outside Tbilisi, Georgia opens up into miles of vineyards, forests and towering mountains. It’s a truly unique country that should be at the top of everyone’s bucket list.
Oh, and there’s the food. My God, the food.
Owing to its location between east and west and its history of occupation, Georgia’s cuisine is a tapestry that draws together flavours from all corners of the world. Biting into a Khinkali dumpling is a two-part experience; first, the steaming hot broth must be sucked out, before chowing down on the coriander-spiced meat filling. Salads, stews and side dishes draw upon flavours from the Middle East and Russia, while Khachapuri - essentially a salty cheese-stuffed bread of which there are innumerable variations – is just the kind of hangover cure you’d expect to find in the world’s oldest wine-making country. These can be eaten in restaurants or bought from unassuming bakeries, tossed into a small plastic bag along with various other baked delights.
In eight days I enjoyed just a fraction of what Georgia has to offer, but on my final day, there was only one thing on my mind. The friendly host of my hostel told me that there was going to be a big screen showing the game at the Dedaena Park beer festival, so I headed down about 90 minutes before kick-off to grab a spot. The rather sparse crowd when I arrived had me thinking I should’ve gone elsewhere, but by the time the two teams emerged from the tunnel in Dortmund, it felt like the whole of Tbilisi was there.
I’m a firm believer that the best cultural experience anyone can have in a new country is to watch a football match with locals. Of course, as a sports journalist and a lifelong football fanatic, I’m more than a little biased. There are plenty of people – perhaps too many – who can’t stand football, and that’s fine. But indulge me for a moment; if you want to do what the locals do, eat what they eat, experience life in their shoes and meet new people, then there is no better vehicle than football. The beautiful game is the great social leveler. A unifier of people.
That became abundantly clear when everyone around me placed arms around shoulders, shed tears and sang their hearts out as the Georgian national anthem began to play. I’m no fan of patriotism and the nationalism it can easily morph into, but national pride really can create some beautiful moments.
I must admit I was completely naive about Willy Sangnol’s side – bar a certain Khvicha Kvaratskhelia – but it soon became apparent that their world ranking was doing them a complete injustice. Rarely in club or international football have I seen a team break forward with such pace, intensity and incisiveness. It felt like something monumental was going to happen every time Kvaratskhelia or Georges Mikautadze ran onto the ball, even when Turkiye went ahead through a wondergoal. Soon it did.
Nobody could quite believe it when Giorgi Kochorashvili beat his man with a few step-overs, delivered a low cross from the right side of the penalty area and Mikautadze swept home at the near post. Georgia had scored their first ever goal at an international tournament. Then came the noise. It was the noise of an entire country experiencing something for the very first time, the intoxicating smell of freedom, of endless possibilities. And it didn’t stop with that goal; every chance, every last-ditch tackle, every throw-in won and every single kick right down to a simple pass was met with roars, shrieks and applause. Forget the performative pint-throwing nonsense you see in Shoreditch Boxpark; this outpouring of emotion was genuine. When you’ve waited so long for something, you dare to waste a single second of it.
Georgia ended up losing 3-1, as two Turkish wondergoals and a last-gasp third flattered the favourites. I was gutted for my newly adopted team, gutted that I wouldn’t be joining thousands of revelers parading through the streets after a historic win, waving the huge Georgian flag I’d bought from a flea market that morning. Four hours later I headed to the airport, my trip over. But Georgia weren’t done.
A 1-1 draw with Czechia followed a few days later, meaning Georgia had to beat Cristiano Ronaldo’s Portugal in their final group game to qualify for the Round-of-16. Of course they went and did it. Kvaratskhelia and Mikautadze scored the goals that night, but in truth all 15 players who featured were outstanding. Georgia had qualified for the knockout rounds in their first ever tournament, and the celebrations back in Tbilisi were as rowdy as you’d expect. “There has never been a more hungover city than Tbilisi this morning,” a friend I’d met texted me the next day. “The party went on and on and on, police cars blaring their sirens, horns, trumpets drums. Joy.”
Kvaratskhelia summed up the feeling perfectly in his post-match interview. “This is the best day in the lives of Georgians. We just made history.”
Though Georgia bowed out in the next round with a 4-1 defeat to Spain, the dream of a nation had already been achieved. “Thank you to the national team for making the flag of Georgia, our colours, our coat of arms, our spirit, our struggle and our insatiable desire for success the centre of world attention,” national team legend and Manchester City cult hero Giorgi Kinkladze wrote in an emotional Instagram post. Georgia’s aim at Euro 2024 was never to win the whole thing, but it wasn’t just to make up the numbers either. They flew to Germany, won hearts with their exciting brand of football and gave three million people back home a rare reason to shout from the rooftops.
The threat of Russia still looms over Georgia, even more so with the recent introduction of a Russian-style ‘foreign agents’ law, which could jeopardise the country’s bid to join the European Union and reduce its ties with Vladimir Putin’s regime. Yet for two weeks, 11 players kicking a ball around a bit of grass gave people a reason to celebrate their wonderful country. The next time someone tells you that football isn’t that important, tell them they’re talking absolute bollocks.