Basic Georgian Phrases for Travelers, with Pronunciation

Georgian is known for two things visitors notice in their first hour: an alphabet that looks like no other, and a hello, gamarjoba, that literally wishes you victory. You can get by in Tbilisi with English, but a few Georgian words change how people treat you. Here's what you need to know: the phrases I'd learn first, how to say them, and the ones for cafes, toasts, taxis and markets.

The 12 Georgian phrases to learn first

If you only have the flight to practice, learn these. I've put them in the order I use them on a normal day in Tbilisi, and the script column is there so you can show your phone when your accent lets you down.

Nobody expects a visitor to get these right. Georgians hear so little of their own language from foreigners that a clumsy madloba still lands better than a perfect thank you.

Gamarjoba: how to say hello in Georgian

Gamarjoba (გამარჯობა) is the hello you'll hear dozens of times a day. It comes from the Georgian word for victory, so every time you say it you're wishing the other person a win. It works at any hour, with anyone, from the bakery to a church gate.

The reply is gagimarjos (gah-gee-mar-jos), "may victory be yours". Answering a gamarjoba with gagimarjos instead of a second gamarjoba is the small move that gets a grin. To greet a group, or someone older you want to be polite with, add a t: gamarjobat, and the reply becomes gagimarjot.

Georgian also has greetings for each part of the day. Mshvidobisa means "of peace", so good morning is literally "morning of peace".

The cluster mshv looks impossible on paper. Say it as m-shv, fast, and nobody will mind.

After hello comes rogor khar? (ro-gor khar), how are you, for a friend or someone your age; to an older person or a group it's rogor khart? The answer is kargad (kar-gad), fine, followed by shen? (and you?) or the polite tkven? If the chat keeps going, me mkvia Anna is "my name is Anna", ra gkvia? is "what's your name?", and pirvelad var sakartveloshi, "it's my first time in Georgia", is the line that gets people talking.

For goodbye, nakhvamdis (nakh-vam-dees) means "until we see each other". The casual bye you'll hear leaving a shop is kargad, the same word as "fine".

Handshakes are normal when you meet someone. Friends greet with a hug or a single kiss on the cheek, and like most Georgian etiquette, the safe move as a visitor is to follow the older person's lead.

Madloba: how to say thank you in Georgian

Madloba (მადლობა, mad-lo-ba) is thank you, and it's the word I'd practice most. Say it to the waiter, the taxi driver and the woman who points you to the right bus stop. For a bigger thanks, didi madloba means thank you very much; didi is "big".

The reply you'll hear is arapris (ah-ra-prees), you're welcome, literally "for nothing". You'll also hear gmadlobt (gmad-lobt), the formal "I thank you", from shop staff and older people. I use madloba with everyone and gmadlobt with anyone older than my parents or in uniform. The gm at the start is a mouthful, so don't stress if madloba is all you manage.

Tu sheidzleba literally means "if it's possible", which is why it goes at the end of a request: erti qava, tu sheidzleba, one coffee, please. Bodishi is sorry for bumping into someone or interrupting; ukatsravad is the excuse me for squeezing past on a crowded metro or catching a waiter's eye.

Ara, madloba is the most useful pair of words on the restaurant strips of the old town, where hosts wave menus at everyone who walks by. Said with a smile, it ends the pitch politely.

Yes, no and other everyday Georgian words

Ki (kee) is yes and ara (ah-ra) is no. Diakh (dee-akh) is the polite yes, and kho is the casual "yeah" you'll hear all over Tbilisi, often doubled: kho, kho. Kargi (kar-gee) means OK or good, and it's the word to say when a waiter repeats your order back.

Genatsvale is my favorite Georgian word. It roughly means "I'd suffer in your place", and older Georgians use it the way a grandmother anywhere would say "dear". You'll hear it from market sellers and waiters; you don't need to say it back, but you'll smile anyway.

Aba ra! is "of course!", and batono turns up constantly: it's "sir", but also "yes?" when someone calls your name and "here you go" when a shopkeeper hands you change. Kalbatono is the same word for a woman.

Georgian phrases for restaurants and cafes

This is where I use the most Georgian, because ordering is easy to practice and staff are patient. Menus in central Tbilisi nearly always come in English, so you rarely need to read Georgian, but asking, thanking and paying in it goes down well.

Dishes keep their Georgian names on English menus, so khachapuri, khinkali and pkhali are words you'll learn by eating them. At a khinkali house you order by the piece, which is where the numbers further down earn their keep: ati khinkali, 10 dumplings, is a sensible first order for 2 people, and you can always add more.

Vegetarians in Tbilisi have it easier than in most of the region: khortsis gareshe, without meat, gets you a long list of bean, eggplant and walnut dishes. If you're allergic to nuts, learn nigozi (nee-go-zee), walnut, because walnut paste goes into pkhali, the eggplant rolls and satsivi. Nigozze alergia makvs means "I'm allergic to walnuts".

Dzalian gemrieli iqo is the phrase I save for the end of a meal at a family-run place; the cook often comes out to hear it. Before you add a tip, check the bill for a service charge, because many Tbilisi restaurants include one and tipping in Georgia beyond that is relaxed.

Toasting phrases: gaumarjos, alaverdi and bolomde

Georgian dinners run on toasts, and the vocabulary is short. Gaumarjos (ga-oo-mar-jos) is cheers, from the same victory root as gamarjoba. At a supra, the Georgian feast, a toastmaster called the tamada leads every toast: to peace, to parents, to those who have died, to friendship and to the guests.

Alaverdi is the word I'd learn if you're invited to a family table. The tamada proposes a toast, then hands it to someone with alaverdi, and that person adds their own words before drinking. If it comes to you, raise your glass, say something short and true about your hosts, and finish with gaumarjos.

Bolomde means drink to the bottom. When someone says it, they mean the whole glass, which with chacha, the grape brandy, is a commitment. You can sip wine between toasts; with chacha, pace yourself and eat.

Georgian phrases for taxis, marshrutkas and directions

Most of getting around Tbilisi needs no Georgian: metro signs carry English, and an app taxi already knows your destination. The words below help in the last 100 meters, and on a marshrutka, the city minibus, where you call out to the driver when you want to get off.

To get off a marshrutka, call shemdeg gacherebaze as your stop comes up, or a clear gaacheret! if it's already there. In a taxi, keep pirdapir, martskhniv and marjvniv for the end of the ride, when the app's pin lands on the wrong side of a one-way street and ak gamicheret gets you out where you want.

Taxi apps in Tbilisi show the fare before you book, so the only Georgian you need with the driver is gamarjoba when you get in and madloba when you get out.

Georgian numbers and shopping phrases

Georgian counts in twenties, which sounds harder than it is. Learn 1 to 10, then 20, and the rest builds itself: 30 is otsdaati, "twenty and ten"; 40 is ormotsi, "two twenties"; 50 is ormotsdaati, "two twenties and ten".

Prices are in lari, Georgia's currency, split into 100 tetri. Tetri also means white, so the same word turns up on your coins and on the wine list.

Bargaining is normal at the Dezerter Bazaar and the flea markets, and pointless in shops with printed prices. Tsota damikelit, knock a little off, said with a smile once you've heard the price, works better than any number you could counter with. If the seller writes the price on a calculator, which happens a lot, you can skip the numbers and just say madloba.

Emergency and health phrases in Georgian

I hope you never need these, but they take a minute to save to your phone.

Pharmacies are on almost every block in central Tbilisi, and the big chains keep branches open 24 hours, so aptiaki is the word you'll use most from this table. Tbilisi is a safe city for visitors, and the phrase you're likeliest to need is tsudad var, the morning after one chacha too many.

How to pronounce Georgian and read the signs

Georgian looks harder to say than it is, because it's spelled exactly as it sounds. Each of the 33 letters of the Mkhedruli alphabet makes one sound, every time, with no silent letters and no capitals. The tricky part is a handful of sounds English doesn't have:

• kh is the throaty sound in Scottish "loch" or German "Bach": khinkali, nakhvamdis.
• gh is a soft gargle, close to a French r: ghvino (wine), ghame (night).
• q in spellings like qava and tsqali is a deep k from the back of the throat; a plain k gets you understood.
• Popped consonants: Georgian has sharp, clicked versions of k, p, t, ts and ch, made with a burst of air. You'll hear the difference, but you don't need to make it.
• Clusters like mshv, gv and tskh: say every letter, quickly, with no extra vowel squeezed in.
• Stress is light and even, so don't hammer any syllable.

Learning to read the Georgian alphabet takes a few evenings, and it pays off fastest on signs. Even if you skip the alphabet, these are the words worth recognizing by shape:

Do people speak English in Tbilisi?

Yes, and more every year. Most younger people in central Tbilisi speak some English, and almost everyone working in hotels, cafes and bars does. Older Georgians are more likely to speak Russian, which they learned at school in Soviet times.

That changes fast outside the capital. Once your trip goes beyond Tbilisi to villages and mountain guesthouses, your host may speak Georgian and Russian only, and the phrases on this page go from a nice gesture to the way you order dinner.

Should you use Russian? It works, especially with older taxi drivers and market sellers, but I wouldn't open with it. The 2008 war and Russia's occupation of two Georgian regions make it a sensitive language for many Georgians, especially younger ones, who would rather speak English with a visitor. My rule: open with gamarjoba, carry on in English, close with madloba, and switch to Russian only if that's the language the other person picks.