Assa Novikova

Five Questions for Expats

By Stan Gaivoronsky

Assa, where did you come from and why?

I moved here from Moscow because I fell in love with a Georgian guy named Gabriel. I had been visiting Tbilisi very often since last year and dreamed of making it my home one day. In February, I fell in love and finally made the long-awaited move.

Which district do you live in?

I live in the Chugureti district, in a literally “dead” one-room apartment, together with Nastya, my roommate and friend. When I first saw photos of the apartment online, I thought, “Oh my God, this looks like something straight out of Jim Jarmusch’s Endless Vacation.” But the apartment has potential. Just like all of us. Our balcony even “starred” in Blue Mountains. It can get very cold in winter, though.

Five of your favorite spots in Tbilisi.

I don’t really have specific favorite spots because I don’t go to cafés or bars. Any place associated with good memories or a good feeling becomes a favorite. These include the Tabidze Bridge, friends’ houses and apartments, Turtle Lake, the Botanical Garden, Tsiferblat (which has already closed), and Dunkin’ Donuts near Marjanishvili.

What are you doing here? Tell us about your projects or goals.

I have one goal: to make money. Unfortunately, that’s not going very well at the moment. I run a blog called From the Red Line, but it’s slowed down because I can’t find enough interesting Russian books in Tbilisi to read and review. Nastya and I are planning to create a zine about Tbilisi. Since moving to Georgia, I’ve been writing a lot and have accumulated a decent collection of stories and essays. The long-term goal is to write a book sometime soon.

Name five things in Georgia that surprised you.

There’s too much to say in a nutshell. The first weeks after the move were especially overwhelming in a good way. There are incredibly handsome men and beautiful women in Tbilisi. People here are genuinely attractive and dress very stylishly, with a relaxed, European urban-chic vibe. Moscow has plenty of fashionistas too, but there’s a certain pathos there that feels heavy. Here, there’s none of that.

There are many stray dogs on the streets, but they’re microchipped and surprisingly affectionate. I always feel safe in Tbilisi. For some reason, I’m never afraid to walk home at night. People notice you here. After Moscow, where everyone stares at the ground, this feels almost rebellious.

People are kind, open, and always ready to help. If you stop in the middle of the street looking confused, someone will definitely come up to you and offer assistance. It’s also very common to host someone overnight or even for a month. I’ve been rescued more than once.

I was also pleasantly surprised by the Georgian healthcare system. I had major surgery here, and I still remember the doctors with gratitude. I’ve never met more tender and attentive doctors. Everything here feels a bit like a movie, a continuous series of funny and touching scenes. The texture of Tbilisi is incredibly picturesque. Everything is beautiful here, even ruined houses.

People standing around chatting, boys playing ball, an old man repairing shoes on the street. All of it feels deeply sincere, warm, and simple. Sometimes I’m sad that so few people, besides Danelia and Gabriadze, have tried to capture and express this enchanting Georgian reality.

Can you say something in Georgian?

Kartuli ar mesmis. I say this phrase very often. It means, “I don’t understand Georgian.”