the Georgians visit other multi-ethnic regions, to learn what coexisting can be like. These include South Tyrol, Cyprus and even Switzerland. When we put this to the Abkhazian Minister of Foreign Affairs Shamba, he laughs and quickly waves the notion away. ‘Of course not, where did you get that from? Yes, we were in South Tyrol, but that was for a holiday!’ Petrov sighs again wearily. ‘Holiday. It’s his supporters. Everyone in Abkhazia is a champion of the independence struggle. If you admit to it you’re lost. He’ll never confirm it publicly, even though all our talks and conferences are aimed at bringing Georgia and Abkhazia together, or at least tackling the refugee problem. ‘Abkhazians are naturally stubborn,’ says Petrov. Then he thinks for a moment. ‘But who isn’t? Tell a Bulgarian that Macedonians aren’t Bulgarians, and they’ll laugh out loud.’ To illustrate his point he makes a long, hoarse ‘haa’. ‘Russia won’t follow the example of Kosovo by declaring Abkhazia independent. Every country has its own Abkhazia. Russia certainly does. As a Bulgarian,’ he confides in us, ‘I definitely oppose granting Kosovo independence. Do that and the whole region will fall apart.’ That evening we find ourselves in the bar at the Red Army Sanatorium in Sukhumi, for years the permanent residence of the Russian Peace Mission. They were also here during the war, protecting the sanatorium from destruction. Apart from the new sound system, we could be back in the Soviet Union as we dance the night away with the Red Army men and women in a sort of circus tent. The vodka and cheap cigarettes are brought in. A soldier hangs half under a table. ‘I love Abkhazia,’ he stammers. Apart from the incidental shootings in the Gali region on the Georgian border, their mission feels almost like a holiday. Vladimir Lenin, the founder of this holiday paradise, rendered in a mosaic of red tiles, watches us as we turn onto the long road back to our UN hotel.
Stalin, Novi Afon & the UN
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