Driving in Georgia: Order in Extreme Chaos

I'm usually a rather calm, relaxed person. I've been to many places and seen many things, so it often takes a lot to get me startled or scared. That said, there is one thing that never fails to terrify me: Georgian drivers. Now let me set the record straight. I absolutely adore Georgia and I've made it my goal to see every corner of the country. I've enjoyed every bit of it, except those moments where I come within inches of dying in a flaming wreckage on the side of the road. And unfortunately, this seemed to happen at least two or three times per road trip.

Let's take the one I did yesterday, for example. It was a 3-hour ride from Zugdidi to Mestia. Conditions were... not good.

But with one hand firmly grasping a cell phone, the other a cigarette, our driver persisted at rapid pace, passing anyone and everyone along the way. Blind turns? No fear. Oncoming traffic? Time to win a game of chicken. There wasn't any daring move this guy wouldn't make. He said our trip was going to be three hours, and goddamn it, nothing was going to stop that from happening! Or so we thought…

Just as we were coming around another blind turn, about a dozen cars and trucks stood motionless in our path, blocking the way. With a rock wall to one side and a sharp drop off a cliff to the other, we had no choice but to come to a screeching halt. The driver then opened the doors, letting me and the other passengers out to see what was going on. Based on everything I'd already seen on Georgian roads, I had a pretty good idea of what this could be. Moments later, my suspicion was confirmed. At the center of the car congregation were two vehicles smashed to pieces and wedged into one another. Imagine if Optimus Prime had a child with terrible birth defects, and that pretty much summed up the scene on hand. Clearly, brakes were not used, but thankfully, no one seemed to be badly hurt. The problem was, for us, that the road (the only road going to Mestia) was now entirely blocked. It was time to play the waiting game...

Finally, after an hour, the army arrived (the actual Georgian Army) in a large military truck. Soldiers hopped out in full gear and made their way to the accident. They yanked the cars apart and cleared the way, thus allowing us to finally pass through to our ultimate destination. But all of this got me thinking. Georgian driving is completely unlike anything I'd ever experienced in life. In just a short period of time, I've seen traffic jams caused by sheep and cows, police officers giving rides to hitchhikers, people driving off the road onto the grass (including on highways) just to pass other drivers, and one guy using his car's engine to dry marijuana leaves.

Upon arrival, I was told that Georgians are incredibly welcoming in all situations except one: when behind the wheel of a car. That's when everything changes. The welcoming hosts turn into bloodthirsty warriors in hot pursuit of a desired destination. This may sound terrifying. And I do admit, I was incredibly terrified during my first ever Georgian taxi ride. I thought at any moment I was going to die in a flaming wreckage on the side of the road. Somehow though, I didn't. As surprising as it sounds, I still haven't died, despite my road trips in the country now totaling around 50. It's quite shocking considering how there happens to be about 3-5 close calls per hour, per trip, but I guess I have to give the drivers credit. If I had to drive in Georgia, I wouldn't last a week. I'd likely smash into someone head-on or lose control and go sailing off into the abyss on some mountain pass. Yet these guys always seem to make it through.

Billy Martinsky