A rowdy gang of women pile into a sun-drenched airport, claiming everyone's attention with their loud chatter. Their faces and accents typical of Georgia's rural mid-west, they appeared to be in their late 30s. "Come stai, kalo? [how are you doing, girl?]," they yell in a mix of Georgian and a surprisingly effortless Italian. 

Making sure there is ample time before their flight to Milan, they camped out on the large, cascading stairs that serve as a seating space. They plug in their phones for charging and bust out make-up kits. 

Gabbing incessantly, they arch their eyebrows, put on their mascara, and smack their lips to distribute the lipstick evenly. Their tracksuit tops go into their backpacks, while colorful scarves come out to go over their shoulders. Dressy shoes replace sneakers. In a matter of minutes, they are transmogrified from Georgian farmers into Italian urbanites.

From their conversations that can be heard in every corner of the small airport it becomes obvious that they split their time between Italy and Georgia. 

In the other corner of the seating area, two young men watch the scene ponderously. They seem less confident about their upcoming trip to Italy. "If nothing else comes out of this, at least we'll learn how to make pizza," one quipped feebly. 

As boarding time draws closer, the airport grows increasingly crowded. A large family drops off a grandmother at the entrance. She swiftly makes the sign of the cross over her children and grandchildren, and walks off. Hurrying across the hall, she asks everyone where she should go to catch the flight to Milan. 

This is Kutaisi International Airport, the cheapest exit from Georgia by air and the main escape hatch for the citizens of an emptying nation. Situated a four-hour train ride away from the capital Tbilisi and two hours from the second-largest city, Batumi, the airport is a microcosm of the socioeconomic situation in the country.  

Driven out of their homes by persistent poverty, growing prices and pessimism about the future, Georgians flock to Kutaisi to catch flights on Wizz Air, a Hungarian low-coster, and head for the greener pastures of the European Union. 

"I will be taking care of an old lady in Tuscany," the grandmother with the large family told Eurasianet.  "There are already some women from my village working there and they have arranged it. I took care of my mother-in-law for 10 years when she became bedridden, so I think I will be good at it." 

She then took this correspondent by the arm: "I've never been on a plane before, so you need to tell me where to go and what to do." 

Many of the Georgian labor migrants head to Italy to pick up menial jobs. The official number of Georgians in Italy stood at almost 30,000 last year, which was a 27.6 percent increase compared to the previous year, according to Italy's National Institute for Statistics.  

"My pension is 315 lari [$151 a month] and you know that you can't survive on that in this country," the grandmother said, slowly making her way to the check-in counter. She declined to provide her name as she was planning to stay in Italy for years as an illegal migrant.   

"I'm in good health and, god willing, I can also help my children with money instead of being a burden on them for the rest of my life," she said.  

The money that migrants send home feeds their families and accounts for a sizable share of Georgia's modest economy. The growing amounts of cash flowing from abroad allow receiving households "to save money, purchase property and improve their financial security," PMCG, an economic think-tank, wrote in its analysis of migration trends and its effects on the economy.   

Foreign remittances made up 16 percent of Georgia's $24.6 billion GDP in 2022, though this exceptionally high rate was partly caused by the inflow of Russians, who escaped military mobilization or other consequences of their country's invasion of Ukraine and found shelter in Georgia. 

It was also partly on the account of the Russians that Georgia's previously diminishing population rebounded last year to climb slightly over 3.7 million. The Georgian president granted Georgian citizenship to 2,564 Russians – primarily individuals of Georgian descent or family members of Georgian nationals – and an unspecified number of others also received citizenship through other channels.

But as Russians poured in to escape being sent to the war in Ukraine, Georgians continued to pour out in search of jobs and better lives. The consistently high emigration rate hit a 10-year record last year, reaching 125,000 people in 2022, according to PMCG. Some take long and circuitous routes to sneak into the United States from Mexico, but most head to the EU. 

Most of the travelers at the Kutaisi Airport were women. As they queued to check in for the Milan flight, wives, mothers and grandmothers were calling their families to say goodbyes and give last-minute housekeeping directives. 

"Make sure you don't starve the kids and yourself to death while I'm away," one of the loud women said, giving cooking instructions to her husband over video call. "Just call me and I will guide you through it," she went on and, turning to her friends, added, "He is going to burn down the house, I know it."    

This is how it is going to be for these women for months or perhaps years to come: Raising their kids and managing their households remotely with one hand and providing care to Europe's fastest-aging nation with the other. The vast majority of Georgian immigrants in Italy are women, nearly 25,000 thousand out of the 30,000, based on last year's data, and most of them work as caregivers for the elderly.

In Italy, Georgians are increasingly concentrated in the region of Apulia (Puglia), the heel of the boot-shaped country. Many go through legally organized, temporary arrangements, others go the informal route and plan to stay for years for years, possibly for good. 

When the grandmother got her boarding pass, she had to sit down and mentally prepare for the big change in her life. "Oh, my poor garden, my poor chickens, who will take care of you?" She said, her eyes welling up. "My husband is too sick to do anything. I'm 68 years old. I don't know if I will ever see my home again."