Review

The apartment is typical for Batumi: a huge kitchen-living room and a windowless bedroom (or one with a window facing a well), proudly called a "Euro-two-bedroom." The main problem is the constant battle with mold in the winter, as the ventilation is spotty, and the humidity is 100%. The gas heating (boiler) is a lifesaver; without it, we'd die here, but the gas bills are exorbitant. The layout is silly, with lots of useless corners, but for the price ($400), it's a tolerable option.

The door is iron, with reliable Turkish locks. But the intercom hasn't worked a day since we moved in, so the couriers are constantly calling and asking us to come down.

Upstairs lives a family with three children who seem to be learning to walk on their heels. Someone is always drilling on the side—renovations in this building are never-ending, a constant state of mind for the residents.

The noise level is terrible; the walls feel like they're made of a single layer of drywall. If my neighbor is watching TV, I can guess what the programs are, and the noise from Pirosmani Street is audible even through the closed windows.

Typical 'Batumi style': cheap wallpaper, tiles that started peeling after six months, and laminate flooring that was bulging from the humidity. It looks expensive and luxurious in the photos, but in real life, everything is flimsy.

The sofa is hard, making it impossible for guests to sleep on it—their backs would fall off. The bed creaks with every movement, and there's not enough closet space for things, so we had to buy additional rails.

The washing machine is old and jumps around the bathroom like crazy during the spin cycle. But it has an oven (a rarity here!) and a large refrigerator, which is a big plus for long-term use.

We have a view of the courtyard, meaning we can see the windows of the neighboring building—we can wave to our neighbors. The sun barely reaches the apartment, so it's like living in a cave, but at least it's not too hot in the summer.

The building is a classic human anthill. It looks alright from the outside, but inside, the entryways are tired, the plaster peeling. The elevators are a whole other story: there are only three in the huge tower, one is always broken, and you have to wait 10 minutes for the other two during rush hour. And yes, they DO cost money (you need a chip that needs to be topped up). Welcome to Batumi.

The cleaning lady comes, sweeps up the dirt with a rag once a week, and leaves. Construction debris, bags of cement, and cigarette butts on the stairs are often strewn about in the hallway—the norm.

There are cameras, apparently, but whether they work is the mystery of the century. There's no security or concierge, so anyone can come in, and movers often prop the entrance door shut with a brick.

There's simply no yard. There's just a patch of concrete, so densely packed with cars that it's impossible to get through. Not a bench, not a tree, and there's nowhere for children to play, only on the roadway.

The drafts are so strong that the curtains flutter when the windows are closed. The windows 'cry' in winter, there's black mold on the slopes, and the house's waterproofing is completely nonexistent.

The area (near the Allée des Heroes and Carrefour) is comfortable to live in, but lacks aesthetics. There's a ton of construction nearby, so there's a constant stream of dust and noise. But the sea is a 10-minute walk away, and there's a cool Agrokhab supermarket (the best in town) and a ton of cafes nearby. It's dreary and gray in winter, but in spring, when everything is in bloom, it becomes more pleasant.

The streets are dirty; after the rain, there's impassable mud and huge puddles; the storm drains don't work. The sidewalks are broken; you have to watch your step to avoid tripping.

Overall, it's quiet; we walk at night without any problems. The main danger is crazy drivers who don't let you cross at zebra crossings; you have to keep your eyes peeled.

It's beautiful in places—palm trees, fountains on the Alley—but turn your head and you see slums or endless construction sites with rebar. Batumi's contrasts in all their glory.

The bus stops are nearby, the buses are new and frequent. Taxis arrive in two minutes and cost next to nothing (3-4 lari within the city). Logistics are a breeze.

Pirosmani and Tbel-Abuseridze Streets are perpetually at a standstill during rush hour. Chaotic parking turns the two-lane road into a single-lane road, and you can get stuck for 20 minutes on level ground.