Roland, the founder of the "Institute of Applied Corruption", arrived from Vienna. If you want to become a professionally corrupted figure in society, you can take the Institute's tour through Vienna to find out how the best ones in the field did it. They are planning to publish a book in fall with detailed instructions on the matter.

Marko from Kruševac, a city in Serbia, who among other things worked as a plumber on the island of Malta for a year, fixed the laundry machine. We weren't so lucky to have the air conditioner repaired as well, so it never became functional. Just for the information, the temperatures would rise up to 35°C and higher in the town, and even more in the house.

Mateuš from Poland helped us enormously with keeping the household and bringing spirit into it. He decided to continue his trip because his visa for Iran would soon expire. He prepared us a farewell dinner - a traditional Polish meal called placki ziemniaczane or potato pancakes. We said our goodbyes, exchanged lots of hugs and then met him again in the apartment in the morning. "This house is like a magnet, it doesn't let me leave," he said. In the following couple of days, he was making plans on how to leave for real this time. He made it in the end – he got up at 6 o'clock in the morning while everybody was still sleeping, snuck out of the place, leaving a goodbye note.

A couple of days later, a couple from Belarus made their traditional meal as well – the exact same potato pancakes. The Ukrainians established as a fact that they were convinced that the pancakes were a Ukrainian traditional meal. The same thing happened with the Lithuanians.

Duško from Belgrade organized a "laughter yoga" workshop, which was attended by the half of the household:

 Kaća from Germany, an acquaintance from the travel house in Istanbul, paid us another visit. She also sang us a song in Georgian:

Unlike last time, during the process of writing this post, we ran out of water.

_

Translation: Tamara Šantek

The Travel House is located in the old part of Tbilisi, in the very centre, five minutes from the metro stop. The apartment is 140 m² (Google Converter says that's 1,500 sqft), has wooden floors, three big bedrooms and a kitchen with a dining room. There were fifteen old chairs (ten of which we threw out), two falling apart beds, two tables and no dishes. We dismantled one of the beds and left only mattresses so that we could have more space.

Like in the previous years, the local help was crucial for finding the apartment. Temur, the guy who contacted us through our website to offer help, hosted us during the search, kept us well fed with the help of his wife, and wore off his shoes walking with us all over the city. As it was the case in the previous years, nobody wanted to hear about renting for only two months.

After four days of the quest, the owner of an apartment we checked out the first day called us back. That was also the best apartment we'd seen. We went to his workplace (gynaecology department) to negotiate. The only thing we understood is ara, which means no in Georgian, which was about every fifth word of the conversation. The owner was worried we'd make troubles and run away, so he required signing the contract with our Tbilisi host. He told us he knew that we needed the apartment for "daily rentals". Also, he asked for more money because he's giving us the apartment for a shorter period, which we accepted but under the condition of not leaving the deposit, and that he provides a washing machine. By the way, we arranged not to pay the water bills – the apartment didn't have the intercom, so the deal was: we take care of the intercom and the owner takes care of the water bills. Afterwards we went to the market and bought a wireless bell for €5.

The rent is €550 per month, like in the last two years. It's a coincidence, we swear! The whole contract, in Georgian, will be sent to you upon your request, and here we give you the scan of the first page.

We need to add the cost of the Internet, gas and electricity to this amount. Not the cost of water – unless the man changes his mind after seeing how much water we've spent. Internet will be around €60 for the two month period, and for gas and electricity we don't' know. This year we had significantly larger start-up costs. During the first two days, we had to spend €85 to furnish the apartment with some necessary stuf. It would've cost us more if Temur weren't a tough negotiator in the market place. We've bought cleaning supplies, a bathroom curtain, basic groceries, washing powder and many tiny things that added up.

We bought 20 sqm (215 sqft) of nylon. It still hurts that we had to pay €400 to paint the walls in Granada, and €65 in Istanbul. The nylon cost was €8, along with the sellotape.

The apartment was awfully dirty. Takahiro, a Japanese guy travelling by motorcycle for three years, our old acquaintance from Granada, came to help us clean the apartment the day before opening The Travel House. Our hosts Maya and Temur came to help too. They brought us a pile of dishes and a big saucepan. Tahakiro showed us how to scrub the floor Japanese style (or his style).

The only thing we haven't taken care of yet is the extra keys. The building key is antique – like the key to a monastery or your grandpa's cellar, even longer! Such keys are no longer in use here in Georgia, so there's no locksmith who could make us a copy. One of them promised to melt two big keys to make one giant; we just have to wait and see if he'll succeed.

The first night we had 18 people sleeping in The Travel House. For the third night, more than 30 people have registered! If you haven't done it yet, apply for The Travel House and/or donate to support the project:

See you in Tbilisi!

Most of the travelers apply directly through our website, having heard about the project from other travelers on the road, or read about it on HitchWiki and other travel websites. In other words, we don't depend so much on CouchSurfing anymore. Most people come from Poland, Germany and Russian-speaking countries. 

Takahiro from Japan, our old acquaintance from the Granada Travel House, continued his trip to Iran. However, we've found a new helper — Mateusz, a traveler from Poland, who decided to stay in the House and help with the project.

The piano was just a piece of furniture until Inesa came, a piano teacher from Lithuania who was also in the previous two houses.

Daniela and Alex from Czech Republic/Germany put Georgian alphabet on the wall, so that we can look helplessly at it.

Mo (India) and Margarita (Bulgaria) met John (Canada) in the Travel House, and decided to make a camp on the way to the Kazbegi church, apparently a very popular destination, and open a "mini shop". They are selling tea and small items for peanuts, in order to get some extra funds for their travels. Each morning they hitchhike to the nearest town for fresh supplies and then back.

Some visitors come only in daytime for a shower and rest. At nights they sleep in the Vake park, occupied by the locals with the help of travelers, to prevent the local government to demolish it and build a hotel there.

We visited the sulphur baths in the old town, similar to hamam. The entrance fee is slightly less than a euro for females and slighly more than a euro for males. Females, unfortunately, don't have a bath nor a sauna, just showers. If anyone plans to visit, beware that you have to be naked and bring your own soap and scrub (kartula). On the other hand, you could also swim in some of Tbilisi lakes. The most popular one is "Tbilisi sea", a big water reservoir above the city.

The smell of fruits is all around the streets. It's possible to buy them on improvised street stalls until midnight. The alternative is kachapuri, a cheese pie of which each region has its own version, and which is often our breakfast.

We also had two suicidal birds, which smashed into our windows at full speed and died. One while this text was being written. So we've learned that the windows should never be too clean. Shortly thereafter, we experienced a precedent in the history of Tbilisi - a power and water cut throughout the city, lasting from the evening until the morning.