Georgia

The articles don't report enough on office culture to separate them cleanly, but neither country has ever been accused of letting work interrupt a good evening.

Cuba decrees that a stranger on a street corner is already your intimate; Georgia decrees that a tamada must first grant you permission to exist at the table — these are not the same philosophy.

Cuba broadcasts its intentions at full volume before breakfast; Georgia filters all meaningful communication through a designated toastmaster over several hours of supervised wine — directness and ritual have rarely been further apart.

Cuban flirtation operates on no schedule whatsoever, while Georgian supras operate on a schedule controlled entirely by one man with a wine horn — both outcomes, however, involve leaving much later than planned.

Cuba bonds with you immediately, loudly, and on the street; Georgia bonds with you slowly, formally, and only after your grandmother-in-law has rendered a verdict — the destination is warmth, but the routes are in different hemispheres.