Thoughts after 2 years an expat in Tbilisi, Georgia — Mostly sadness

In 2015 I moved to Tbilisi. I am not 100% sure what I was looking for, but I think it was a home — a place where I belonged. I was also seeking to leave my life in the USA behind me. On the first goal I have been unsuccessful. Although I like Tbilisi and the Republic of Georgia, I no longer feel at home here. I think it was naive on my part to think that I could come waltzing in and just be accepted. On the second goal I have been successful. No matter how irritated I get about things here in Georgia it only takes me a few days into a visit to the USA before I want to leave. Will I stay in Georgia? I do not know. I am no longer as happy here as I was 6 months ago. Either things here have changed or I have changed; probably both. But I know I will not return to the USA. America has become a foreign country to me; more foreign than those nations I have visited over the last 2 years; Georgia, Hungary, or Bulgaria. Maybe I will never find a home. If so I must learn to appreciate the things I have. Which brings me to the issue of Georgia and me.

I read this quote in a book about the Caucasus, and it struck me as very near to the truth:

“If I were a symbolist, I should portray Georgia as a racehorse — palpitating, furious, rushing forward blindly, it knows not where; rearing at the least check, not having yet…