There’s something fascinating about places that stand apart from our own, where life seems to follow different rhythms and traditions, untouched by the rush of modernity. Villages and regions that feel set apart, with their own cultures, customs, and landscapes, captivate me. They’re like windows into another way of being. These places often resist the outside world’s urgency to “keep up” and, in doing so, hold onto a distinct sense of self that feels both rare and valuable.
Svaneti is one of those places. High in the peaks of the Greater Caucasus Mountains, it’s a land that seems to operate outside of time, where the Svans live by traditions that have endured for centuries. It’s like stepping into another world, a medieval village nestled in the most dramatic mountain setting, yet somehow still relevant and alive. And while they may allow a few elements of modernity—a smartphone here, a guesthouse there—the Svans are careful, almost guarded, about how much of the present they let in.
The Svans have always valued independence, and they hold onto it fiercely. This isn’t new; even in the 1st century BC, Greek historian Strabo wrote of their courage and self-governance, noting that they had their own council and could raise an army if needed. Today, this independence lives on. When officials tried enforcing logging restrictions, the Svans responded with resistance and roadblocks, showing once again that local customs matter more here than distant government rules.
Perhaps the most striking symbols of Svaneti’s timelessness are its medieval defense towers, which have stood for centuries against avalanches, feuds, and invaders. The best-preserved towers are in Ushguli, Europe’s highest permanently inhabited settlement. Other places build skyscrapers and rely on technology, but these towers have withstood centuries with little more than stone and willpower, standing as reminders that resilience doesn’t need modernization.
The traditional Svan house, or Machubi, is a similar story. These two-story homes provided shelter for both people and livestock, with hay stored above and an open fire at the center. While a few modern touches might appear, like a smartphone on a table, the overall setup remains unchanged. It’s efficient and has worked for centuries. Introducing “upgrades” feels unnecessary here—there’s a simplicity that’s easy to respect, even if it means fewer comforts.
Svaneti is also a place that feels connected to myths and legends, where stories like the Golden Fleece have their roots. Here, locals once (allegedly) used sheepskins to catch gold from mountain streams. This link to the past is real for the Svans, blending seamlessly with their daily lives. There’s a sense that the myths, like their traditions, would lose their meaning if Svaneti opened too widely to modern influence.
The mountains themselves add to this atmosphere. Peaks reach beyond 4,000 meters, crowned by Mount Shkhara at 5,068 meters, and the ominous twin peaks of Ushba create one of the region’s most dramatic silhouettes. These natural barriers reinforce Svaneti’s isolation, creating a buffer from the outside world and its endless push for convenience and comfort.
Modernity is creeping into Svaneti, with the regional capital, Mestia, becoming a hub for mountain tourism. Guesthouses and hotels now cater to travelers, and tourism has brought some economic benefit. But you wonder if it’s better for the Svans to see just a slice of the modern world rather than the full picture. The conveniences of modernity—easy connectivity, packaged goods, entertainment on demand—seem almost out of place here, and perhaps it’s best if they stay that way.
This isn’t a place that needs the “perks” of the modern world; it’s a place that thrives on preserving its own unique way of life. The Svans maintain their language, customs, and sense of self even as small parts of modernity seep in. There’s a feeling that fully introducing the conveniences of modern life might dull this distinct identity, and it’s easy to wonder if Svaneti is better off with just a taste rather than the whole spread.
Even the spirituality in Svaneti reflects this blend of old and new. Christianity arrived between the 4th and 6th centuries, but it didn’t erase the old ways; it combined with them. Today, Svan spirituality is a unique mix of Georgian Orthodox Christianity and ancient pre-Christian rituals. Here, faith is layered, mixing old customs with new beliefs in a way that doesn’t disrupt tradition but complements it. In a place like this, where even religion is a careful fusion, the Svans don’t need a flood of new influences—they’re selective for a reason.
In Svaneti, change happens slowly and on their terms. Introducing more of the outside world’s “perks” might seem generous, but it’s likely to bring as much loss as gain. The Svans have managed to keep their core traditions alive while choosing only what fits from the modern world. This balance isn’t perfect, but maybe it’s exactly what Svaneti needs to stay true to itself.
image source: Flickr