The Problem with Shared Transport: Why I Ditched the Marshrutka
Look, if you’re trying to move between Armenia and Georgia, everyone tells you to grab the overnight train or just jump on a shared marshrutka. I tried both ways years ago, and honestly? They suck. The train is slow, leaves at inconvenient times, and you’re basically giving up a full day. The marshrutka? That’s worse. They sit there waiting, waiting, waiting until they are packed tighter than a tin of sardines before they even think about moving. Then you hit the border and everyone is stuck in the same massive queue, engine idling, burning up gas and precious time.
I needed speed this time. I had business waiting in Tbilisi and couldn’t waste nine hours shuffling along the road. So I sat down and plotted out the whole thing. The goal wasn’t just to cross the border; the goal was to blow past the border queue like it didn’t even exist. I figured the only way to do that was to get myself and my luggage out of the vehicle and move on my own two feet.
The Strategy: Dividing and Conquering the Road
The standard route is through the main crossing point, Bagratashen (Armenia) to Sadakhlo (Georgia). That’s the most direct drive, so that’s where the traffic piles up. I realized that if I could separate the logistics into three distinct parts, I could save hours.
- Get me from Yerevan to the closest Armenian town near the border.
- Cross the border physically on foot.
- Get me from the Georgian border post to Tbilisi.
I wasn’t messing around with local buses for the first leg. I fired up the app and booked a regular taxi service from my spot in Yerevan. I made sure to clarify with the driver exactly where I needed to go: as close as possible to the customs checkpoint building itself, not some marshrutka parking lot miles away. It costs a bit more than a shared van, sure, but time is money when you’re on a schedule, right?
Executing Leg One: The Fast Drive to the Frontier
The drive out of Yerevan was smooth. We hit the road early, around 7 AM, which is key. Getting ahead of the major transport flow makes a huge difference. The Armenian highways are mostly fine until you get right up near the border area—then they get a little rough, but nothing major. We pushed hard, and the driver dropped me right where the main queue of cars and buses was starting to form, maybe 100 meters from the Armenian passport control building.
This whole first leg took about four hours, maybe four and a half, including a quick stop for coffee. I grabbed my bags, paid the driver, and watched him turn right back around to head to Yerevan. Meanwhile, all the buses and shared taxis were still idling, maybe having moved 20 feet in the time I got out and stretched my legs.
The Border Sprint: Walking is Cheating
This is the trick, the golden rule of speed crossing: Walk the damn border.
I walked right past the entire queue of stationary vehicles. No one cares about pedestrians. I marched up to the Armenian exit booth, handed over my passport, they stamped me out, barely asked me anything—maybe 3 minutes total. I gathered my bags and walked straight into the neutral zone.
The neutral zone between Bagratashen and Sadakhlo isn’t huge, maybe a kilometer or so. It feels a little weird carrying luggage between two countries, but you just keep moving. I passed the giant lines of trucks waiting for customs inspection. It must have taken them hours, maybe days. It took me 12 minutes of fast walking.
I reached the Georgian side. The setup there is massive, clearly designed for high traffic. I bypassed the massive customs lines for vehicles and went straight inside the passenger terminal. Handed over the passport, they asked the standard two questions (Where are you going? How long are you staying?), took my photo, stamped me in. Done. Total time spent from walking up to the Armenian booth to walking out into Georgia? Maybe 25 minutes, tops.
Leg Three: Negotiating the Final Push to Tbilisi
Now I was officially in Georgia, but stuck in the middle of nowhere near the Sadakhlo border post. This area is chaotic. You have to ignore the aggressive private drivers who see a foreigner with luggage and smell easy money. They will absolutely fleece you if you let them. They start quoting astronomical prices to Tbilisi.
I walked a little further away from the immediate scrum, toward the marshrutka waiting area. Sure enough, there were shared taxis looking to fill up for the run to Tbilisi’s Didube station. I found a guy who was already halfway full and hammered down the price. It was still more than the marshrutka price, but way less than the private taxi vultures.
We waited about 15 minutes for the last two seats to fill, and then we were flying toward Tbilisi. The road in Georgia is usually great, and they drive fast. We arrived at Didube station exactly 2.5 hours later.
The Verdict: Speed Over Convenience
From the moment I left my apartment in Yerevan until I was standing at Didube in Tbilisi, it took me just under 7 hours. Compare that to the 9-10 hours the marshrutkas take, often arriving late in the evening and exhausting you completely. The key takeaway? Do not ride a single vehicle all the way through. Break the journey, pay slightly more for the solo transport to the border, and use your legs to cheat the line. It works every single time.