Stalin's Metro
Once upon a time, only Soviet cities with populations over one million could have an underground railway. Georgian-born Josef Stalin insisted that his country's capital have a metro, though he did not live to see his will done. Without Stalin, Tbilisi was denied the privilege of a metro, but as USSR was involved in a Cold War with the USA at the time, they were allowed to build bomb shelters. The story is told that these bomb shelters were eventually linked to form the metro.
Whether you would like to believe the story of Georgian cunning or not, trust me when I say that using the metro was an experience in itself. Like most ex-Soviet metros, the system was deep underground, and the escalator that whisked us down at triple the speed of your conventional mall escalator was like an old tractor; rugged, rough, needing constant maintenance, and likely to devour you if your shoelace was caught. We observed the other passengers keenly and learned that their slight desperation to disembark or board had little to do with reaching their destination promptly, and everything to do with avoiding the sudden clamping of door jaws. The scramble for a seat or hand rail was explained by the lurch of acceleration as the train left the platform; any pussy-footing by the driver would be punished by the arrival of the next train in less than three minutes. As we picked up speed, a strong memory resurfaced; the jolting bumps, sways, screeches, and clatter reminded me of the unforgettable train journey in Myanmar. Though the Tbilisi metro carriages did not rock as dramatically, they travelled at least three times faster, a speed at which a Burmese "railslip" might mean disaster. The Tbilisi metro also ensured industrial deafness to regular patrons, the tunnels reflecting the 110-plus decibels directly back into the carriages.
We endured the discomfort regularly because the metro was undeniably cheap, easy to use, and connected the main areas of the city that would interest visitors: Rustavelli downtown, Liberty Square in old town, Marjanisvili, and Didube for connecting marshrutkas. The escalators didn't seem too fast or the train ride too nerve-wracking after a few journeys. We had learned quickly; expect intermittent braking when the carriage starts to bounce, make your way to the doors ahead of your stop, hold on, and tuck in your shoelaces.
Whether you would like to believe the story of Georgian cunning or not, trust me when I say that using the metro was an experience in itself. Like most ex-Soviet metros, the system was deep underground, and the escalator that whisked us down at triple the speed of your conventional mall escalator was like an old tractor; rugged, rough, needing constant maintenance, and likely to devour you if your shoelace was caught. We observed the other passengers keenly and learned that their slight desperation to disembark or board had little to do with reaching their destination promptly, and everything to do with avoiding the sudden clamping of door jaws. The scramble for a seat or hand rail was explained by the lurch of acceleration as the train left the platform; any pussy-footing by the driver would be punished by the arrival of the next train in less than three minutes. As we picked up speed, a strong memory resurfaced; the jolting bumps, sways, screeches, and clatter reminded me of the unforgettable train journey in Myanmar. Though the Tbilisi metro carriages did not rock as dramatically, they travelled at least three times faster, a speed at which a Burmese "railslip" might mean disaster. The Tbilisi metro also ensured industrial deafness to regular patrons, the tunnels reflecting the 110-plus decibels directly back into the carriages.
We endured the discomfort regularly because the metro was undeniably cheap, easy to use, and connected the main areas of the city that would interest visitors: Rustavelli downtown, Liberty Square in old town, Marjanisvili, and Didube for connecting marshrutkas. The escalators didn't seem too fast or the train ride too nerve-wracking after a few journeys. We had learned quickly; expect intermittent braking when the carriage starts to bounce, make your way to the doors ahead of your stop, hold on, and tuck in your shoelaces.
Down, down, down to one of the Tbilisi metro stations.
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