Enzo laughed. “So Georgian is just ‘Mama mia’ with different spices?”
Tiko smiled. “You know,” she said, “in Georgian, we don’t say Mama mia . But we have something very similar.”
She walked him to a cliff overlooking the Mtkvari River. “If you see something truly amazing — like a rainbow over the entire city — an older Georgian might say:
Tiko grinned. “Yes. But in Georgian, mama means , not mother! And mia means ‘there it is’ or ‘here you go.’ So he literally shouted: ‘Father, there it is!’ — like ‘Oh my gosh!’” mama mia qartulad
That means ‘My mother!’ — exactly like Mama mia . We use it for shock, pain, joy, or disbelief.”
She led him to a bakery selling fresh lobiani (bean bread). An old man bit into a hot one, burned his tongue, and yelled:
— Deda chemoo!
Enzo froze. “Wait… did he just say… Mama mia ?”
Enzo burst out laughing. “So in Italian, Mama mia is ‘my mother.’ In Georgian, Mama mia is ‘father, there it is’ — but they both mean the same exclamation of surprise!”
Tiko was a young tour guide in Tbilisi, the capital of Georgia. She loved leading groups through the old town’s winding streets, past balconies with grapevines, and down to the sulfur baths. But one morning, an Italian tourist named Enzo asked her a question that stopped her in her tracks. Enzo laughed
— Vai, deda! (Oh, mother!)”
Enzo tried it: “Deda chemoo!” Tiko nodded. “Good. But here’s the twist.”
— Deda ginat!