Bound by the Black Sea and three untamed rivers, Rioni, Tskhenistskali, and Enguri, there lies a land long revered as the light of Georgia’s eyes. This is Samegrelo, the threshold from which the sea opens westward. Long ago, when the Argonauts sailed in pursuit of the Golden Fleece and cast anchor on the banks of Phasis, myth and history were forever woven together. Today, the heir of that ancient Phasis is Poti, a city that never sleeps, its vast port tying Georgia unceasingly to Europe. Samegrelo itself feels like a living myth. The silver water of Tobavarchkhili poured among cliffs, enchanted canyons and caves; the relict forests and rare biodiversity of Kolkheti National Park, all merge with half-mythical customs, sacred rituals, incantations and folklore. The millennia of history remain etched in the ruins of Nokalakevi, the towers of Rukhi, the monasteries of Khobi and Martvili, and the regal Dadiani Palace in Zugdidi. Yet for all its weight of memory, Samegrelo is first and foremost a land in constant motion, never still, always keeping pace with the present. From this restless spirit was born the Kolkhetian Oda. A Megrelian homestead resembles a small royal garden. Across its broad yards, barns, granaries, and sheds are set in harmony, leading back toward the working garden plots. In the front unfolds the white yard — a great meadow, filled with orchards and flower gardens around old wells, where the lace-adorned Oda rises like a crown. Around this entire complex, a living fence blooms, tangled with blackberry, pomegranate, wild mandarin, and laurel. Megrelian Odas await their guests with singular hearths, silver-painted ceilings, handcrafted furniture, pianos that still carry the echo of distant eras, and enchanted wooden bedrooms. The Megrelian hosts open their doors with pride, guiding guests through vineyards, orchards, and greenhouses before laying out a feast fit for royalty: cheese delicacies, sulguni, elarji, satsivi, tabaka, and fiery adjikas that awaken every sense. At last, the ancient wine cellars open, and from the dark emerges Samegrelo’s oldest pride — the brilliant deep crimson Ojalashi. With its taste, the Oda transforms into a living memory of Colchis, echoing the palace of King Aeëtes.