How we will travel in 2026

2026 will be defined by glowcations, romantasy retreats and milestone missions, a word salad that indicates the coming together of culture, individual taste and technology

- Anita Rao Kashi

Just a 5-minute walk from Liberty Square, the iconic marker in the Georgian capital of Tbilisi, is Asureti Eco Shop. Located in the basement, it is a tiny establishment selling all kinds of churchkela, the popular Georgian sweet on a stick, as well as an array of candied fruit, sweets, preserves, honey, spices, powders and knickknacks. The air is thick with the co-mingling of innumerable aromas. The owner knows no English and my Georgian stopped at madloba (thank you), so we get by with a lot of gestures and expressions of delight.

When she fishes out a glass jar from behind the counter and opens the lid, the whole place is enveloped with the piquant smell of savoury spices. Much gesticulation and use of Google Translate later, it turns out to be a “spice mixture” with no name, just her concoction. She explains it is versatile and can be cooked with or sprinkled on anything. I buy a generous quantity and lug it home, my suitcase and clothes all smelling like a spice shop.

Back home, I use it to sauté mushrooms, toss it with steamed vegetables, sprinkle it on boiled eggs and salads, and even mix it with curd. Each time, I am transported to the little shop and to Tbilisi. It is the best kind of souvenir. The bottle sits in the kitchen cupboard that is quickly accumulating flavours and textures from everywhere. In the last few months, a dozen kinds of pisyu loon (flavoured salts) and mountain turmeric from Almora, aam kasundi and nolen gur from Kolkata, and gongura pachadi from Visa-Khapatnam have joined the Georgian spice mix. Every time I open the cupboard, a random memory comes barrelling through and brings joy with it.