As we left Tbilisi, the city was preparing for a grand Independence Day parade, and we had been promised something similar in Kutaisi. The weather, however, had other plans.
We woke to an overcast yet dry morning and headed to a café for breakfast of granola and Greek yoghurt before wandering into town. Around the main square, soldiers were proudly displaying their military hardware, while children clambered over the tanks. A large stage had been erected, television cameras lined the square, and all traffic had been barred from entering.
Then the drizzle began. We opened our umbrellas and drifted towards the gift stalls, but the rain quickly intensified. By the time we climbed the steps to the grand theatre in search of shelter beneath its vast entrance, the downpour had become torrential. Even under cover, the rain rebounded from the ground in sprays, soaking us regardless.
The stalls took a battering, and the roof of one temporary shelter was torn free and sent flying. Soldiers retreated into their tanks and nearby cafés and shops, while everyone else scrambled for whatever shelter they could find. Within minutes, the square was deserted.
We settled in to wait for a break in the storm before dashing through the streets, leaping over streams of floodwater and dodging sheets of water cascading from rooftops, until we finally reached a café we had identified as a promising spot for croissants.
Sadly, the croissants proved deeply disappointing and bore little resemblance to the real thing. Still, we met a girl named Anne, a lawyer from Beijing, and enjoyed chatting with her.
After another hour sheltering in yet another café, the rain finally eased and the sun emerged. The celebrations resumed in the square, and we took advantage of the improved weather to explore one of Kutaisi’s quieter residential districts.