Play President of the (Defunct) Communist Party of the USSR for a Day! Part I

This is part I of a two-part series. Click here for part II.

Bored with the Bahamas? Tired of Trinidad? Get the blahs from Bali and the sighs from Sri Lanka?

Well, listen up, world-weary wanderer! You too, can play President of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and stay in a five story, four kitchen, ten bath, twenty room mansion replete with Olympic-sized swimming pool, 50 person sauna and special cabinet in which to store your nuclear launch code briefcase! For a mere $40 US per night, the dacha once belonging to former Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev on the shores of the Black Sea is yours!

While the forty dollar fee is nominal, it would be misleading to underplay some of the other issues involved in staying at Gorbachev's dacha, like reaching the unrecognized Republic of Abkhazia. It has been a problematic destination for some time. Even before the outbreak of a civil war in 1992, visits by foreigners to Abkhazia were discouraged -- the primary reason being the region was home during the Soviet era to several military and research facilities, including a unique institute where they (allegedly) tested various hideous diseases on monkeys and other primates.

Abkhazia was also known as a part of the Soviet Riviera, a place where the communist elite came to play, either frying hide on the pebble beaches of the Black Sea, plucking fruit from the low-land orchards or meandering through the towering mountains, cut by dozens of blue-ribbon trout streams and roaring rivers.

All that changed with the collapse of the Soviet Union. The demise of one-party rule helped spawn a series of very messy and under-reported ethnic wars, including a conflagration that consumed Sukhumi, Abkhazia's seaside capital. Fighting raged in the region from 1992 through 1993, leaving up to 25,000 dead and creating around 250,000 internally displaced persons. The conflict also shattered most of the area's tourist infrastructure, ranging from roads to hotels.

I remember it quite well because I was trapped in the capital city of Sukhumi with Eduard Shevardnadze as a motley crew of Russian mercenaries and Chechen volunteers—now trying to kill each other—turned the jewel of the Black Sea coast into a flaming hell, forcing virtually all ethnic Georgians out of the area.

Since then, Abkhazia has endured under international sanctions, and a shaky ceasefire monitored by UN observers. Access is largely restricted to the occasional Russian military family, or international relief types traveling in UN-sponsored convoys. There are also a few people like me and a group of pals, who have connections among both the Abkhaz militiamen and Georgian guerrilla groups operating on either side of the Georgian-Abkhaz frontier. When we visited the region, we explained we were going to cover the presidential elections (there was only one candidate--the president himself, Vladislav Ardzimba). Our true aim, however, was to go and throw a birthday party at the Gorbachev dacha for one member of our group.

Our approach necessarily led us from the refugee-filled western Georgian city of Zugdidi across the one bridge left intact over the slow-flowing Inguri river. One can't help but notice the twisted, rusted metal infrastructures that used to support trains, but now only serve as walkways for illegal comings and goings to Gali province, the southernmost chunk of Abkhazia. Gali is rife with militiamen known as White Legionnaires and Forest Brethren, and many roads are mined. Most explosives have been cleared by the British organization HALO Trust, but not all, especially along the dirt tracks leading toward the sea or mountains. Avoid.

Happily, the main road is generally safe, the war having been relegated to visual memory to the left and right: scores--nay, hundreds--of partially or wholly burnt out buildings, many of which appear to have been quite pleasant before getting whacked with a GRAD missile or blast of a T-72 tank. All manner of other wild greenery protrude through the spaces once covered up by roofs destroyed by bombs and fire.

An hour of dodging pot-holes and ubiquitous wandering cows brings one to Sukhumi, known by the Abkhaz as 'Sukhum,' without the ending 'i.' Cut by a number of rivers that rush down from the tremendous mountains flanking the city to the East, Sukhumi is a lush and verdant place. It is also an ancient Black Sea town that attracted so many different ethnic groups involved in trade and barter that by one account, visiting Roman soldiers were obliged to hire over forty different translators. Despite the horrors of ethnic war, Sukhumi still boasts communities of Greeks, Armenians, Jews, Mingrelians, local Russians and, most recently, Diaspora Abkhaz who have returned to their ancient homeland from Turkey, Syria and Jordan.

Visitors quickly discover that accommodations are limited. One option is the Aitar, a rather basic, Soviet-style spa and sanitarium complex just South of town, and distinctive due to the scores of white United Nations vehicles parked behind the security fence. The reason for this is that the Aitar doubles as the headquarters of the United Nations' Observation Mission in Georgia (UNOMIG). The UN still regards Abkhazia as part of Georgia, even if the Abkhaz don't. Although most rooms in the complex have long been taken over by UN-related organizations, there are usually a few to spare--and at the bargain basement price of about $10 per night, wandering peacocks included.

If there is no availability at the Aitar (beg for a bed, if need be; the place does boast hot water showers and electricity most of the time) there are two alternative hostels: the Abkhazia Guest House, located right behind the bombed-out railway bridge at the first junction going into town from the Aitar, and the Russian Military Sanitarium on the seaside, about 100 yards away. The former is favored by Turkish sailors who arrive aboard the weekly illegal freighter from Trabzon, and is even more basic than the Aitar. The latter is identifiable by the huge mosaic of Vladimir Lenin behind the security gate guarded by young Russian conscripts, and is favored by vacationing Russian military men and their families.

Rates at both are negotiable, but the latter is preferable at any price due to security (again, the baby-faced Russian guards with guns). The army sanitarium also has several basic restaurants that serve grilled meats and pizza. In addition, the place provides a deja vu experience of the old Soviet elite at play. Nowhere else in the post-Soviet space is it possible to snatch such a glimpse of the past.

It is worth a day or two to explore Sukhumi. The garden town curls around Sukhumi bay and extends up several ravines into the lower mountains, and there is much to see. The first thing to note--and it is difficult not to note it--is the sheer level of devastation visited upon the city during the nasty war. Starting near the port, and working back through the grand avenues and side-streets leading to the market and railway station in the center of town, one cannot but be impressed with the destructive power of modern weapons. Many, once-splendid buildings have been reduced to ugly shells. The most notable of these is the 12 story administrative building abutting parliament, both facing the lovely botanical gardens downtown.

Although no one will openly say so, the general belief is that the handsome structure has been left a burnt out wreck to remind everyone that there are, in fact, enemies at hand--like the Georgians. The National Library is another sobering example of gratuitous destruction. The director, Boris Chalaria, is more than happy to show you the shelves and card catalogue area, or what remains of it, behind the main entry.