Georgia unfolds between its carved-stone capital and the subtropical coast: the balconied lanes and sulphur baths of old Tbilisi, then the palm-lined Black Sea front of Batumi, each brought to life by a private historian.

Few crossroads have absorbed so much and stayed so wholly themselves. Persian, Ottoman, Russian and Byzantine currents run through the architecture, the alphabet, the table—and your historian reads them street by street, in a city that rewards the slow walker.

A boutique estate is reserved to your party, the days composed around your rhythm and a table set to your preferences. It is an unhurried discovery of a country most travellers still have not thought to visit.