Festival · Tbilisi

New Wine Festival

200 winemakers in an amusement park on a holy mountain

Every May, 200+ Georgian winemakers set up tasting tables inside Mtatsminda Park — an amusement park on a holy mountain 770 metres above Tbilisi, reached by a funicular that opened in 1905. The opening ceremony cracks a beeswax-sealed qvevri while the crowd sings Mravaljamier, a three-voice polyphonic toast song UNESCO recognized as Intangible Cultural Heritage. Zangaura pours a blend of 27 indigenous grape varieties — out of 525 that survive — harvested together, fermented together. A wine no sommelier can categorize, from no appellation that exists. The Ferris wheel spins above the wine tents.

What to do there

5 things to do

Where: Tbilisi Funicular Lower Station, 22 Daniel Chonkadze Street — a 10-minute uphill walk from the Opera House on Rustaveli Avenue, or hop bus No. 124 from Rustaveli Metro.
What: This funicular first opened on March 27, 1905 — built to haul Tbilisi's aristocracy up to the mountain park before cars existed. In 2000, a cable snapped and injured tourists; it closed for over a decade before reopening. Every ride carries that weight. As you ascend, Tbilisi unfolds below: the sulfur bath domes of Abanotubani, the silver thread of the Kura River, the tangled Old Town, the Caucasus ridgeline. By the time you reach 770 metres, you understand why Georgians call this mountain Mtatsminda — the Holy Mountain.
How: Buy a 2 GEL plastic transport card at the ticket office, then load 10 GEL for a one-way ride (day rate). Take the 3-minute ascent. Arrive by 10:30 AM on festival day — the qvevri opening ceremony begins at 11:00 AM sharp and you do not want to miss it.
Backup: Taxis from Old Town to Mtatsminda Park cost 8–12 GEL and save the climb. But you'll miss the reveal moment — the city dropping away beneath you as you rise.

Log Memory
Where: The Central Stage area of Mtatsminda Park, near the main fountain — this is where the Georgian Wine Club conducts the opening ceremony. Arrive before 11:00 AM.
What: Since 2010, when the festival debuted with just 15 producers, every edition has opened the same way: a wax-sealed qvevri — a beeswax-lined clay vessel buried in the earth since October's harvest — is cracked open by the Georgian Wine Club. The wine inside was selected from a single family cellar. The moment the wax breaks, three voices rise: the crowd begins Mravaljamier (მრავალჟამიერ), the polyphonic toast song that has been sung in Georgian wine regions since the 8th century. UNESCO put it on the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity list. You are not watching a performance. You are witnessing something 1,300 years old.
How: Position yourself near the Central Stage before 11 AM. The ceremony is brief but incandescent. After the first pour, the winemakers at every tent officially open their tables. This is the moment the festival becomes alive.
Backup: If you arrive late, find the small qvevri near the Central Stage where you drop your raffle ticket — it anchors the ceremony's location. Ask any volunteer: 'Where is the opening ceremony?' Georgian hospitality will take care of the rest.

Log Memory
Where: Any Kakheti producer tent in the festival grounds — look for the amber-colored wine in the glass, the color of deep honey or old cognac.
What: Every 'orange wine' bar in Brooklyn, Tokyo, and Copenhagen is serving a trend that Georgia invented 8,000 years ago. Here's how it works: white grapes go into the qvevri WITH their skins, seeds, and sometimes stems. They ferment for five to six months buried in the earth, sealed with beeswax. The result is Georgian Amber Wine — technically a white, but with tannins, texture, and a color that ranges from copper to mahogany. Rkatsiteli is the grape to seek: the name means 'red-stemmed' and it's one of the world's oldest cultivated varieties. Taste it and you're tasting the ancestor of almost every wine tradition on earth.
How: Walk to a Kakheti producer's tent and ask: 'Rkatsiteli qvevri?' or simply point at the amber-colored bottle. Look for producers Napheri (their Goruli Mtsvani skin contact was a 2025 standout) or Kardenakhi 1888 (Mtsvane Qvevri). The winemakers pour generously — this is not a measured tasting, this is Georgia. Have your glass ready.
Backup: Any amber wine from any Kakheti producer at the festival delivers the story. If you want a rarer find, ask for Goruli Mtsvani or Kisi — varieties almost impossible to find outside Georgia.

Log Memory
Where: Zangaura's tent in the festival grounds — look for their label or ask volunteers to point you toward them.
What: Georgia has 525 indigenous grape varieties — the largest repository of viticultural genetic diversity on the planet. Of those, only 30 are in regular production. The other 495 exist in conservation collections, like living fossils. Zangaura's Gviani Blend brings 27 of those forgotten varieties back into a single bottle: all planted together in one Kakheti vineyard, harvested together, fermented together with carbonic maceration for one month on skins. The result is a wine no sommelier can categorize, from no appellation that exists, made from grapes your wine education never mentioned. This is what 8,000 years of viticultural memory tastes like when someone refuses to let it disappear.
How: Find Zangaura's table and ask for the Gviani Blend — the winemaker or their representative will be there. Ask them: 'Which of the 27 varieties is your favorite?' Let the conversation go where it goes. Georgian winemakers at this festival are there because they love this — not because they have to sell.
Backup: If Zangaura is not at this year's festival, ask any producer: 'Do you work with rare Georgian varieties?' Almost every family cellar here has a story about a grape their grandparents grew that nobody else makes anymore.

Log Memory
Where: The western edge of Mtatsminda Park, near the base of the 80-metre Ferris wheel — walk past the wine tents toward the mountain's rim. The Caucasus range appears.
What: At some point in the afternoon, step away from the tents. Find the place where the festival's chaos — the wine, the laughter, the mtsvadi smoke, the roller coaster running its loop somewhere behind you — gives way to the view. Below: all of Tbilisi, the Kura River cutting through it, the Soviet-era apartment blocks mixing with church spires and Ottoman-era bath domes. Beyond: the Caucasus Mountains. This country has been making wine longer than any civilization on earth, longer than Rome, longer than Greece, longer than Egypt's wine culture. And somehow they built an amusement park on the mountain where they celebrate it. The Ferris wheel spins above wine tents. Children ride carousels while grandmothers pour Saperavi. This is the moment you realize no wine region on earth looks like this.
How: Raise whatever is left in your tasting glass. Someone nearby will do the same. If you can manage the Georgian: 'Gaumarjos!' (გაუმარჯოს!) — it means 'to victory,' and it's been said on this mountain for centuries. If you're feeling bold, attempt Mravaljamier. You'll be forgiven for the pronunciation and celebrated for the effort.
Backup: On overcast days the view is less dramatic but the atmosphere is unchanged. The festival runs regardless of weather.

Log Memory

Insider tips

200+ producers in one day - pace yourself!
Mtatsminda Park has stunning views over Tbilisi
Take the funicular up - experience in itself
Arrive early for best selection

Sources

en.vinoge.com eatthistours.com advantour.com georgia.to iregions.ge 1tv.ge redfedoradiary.com en.wikipedia.org tbilisilocalguide.com ich.unesco.org winesgeorgia.com wander-lush.org mtatsmindaparktickets.com · checked April 2026

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