Stalin’s birthplace

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Both my pairs of long pants were in the laundry, so I went out in my shorts with a pair of long johns underneath:

out in shorts and long johns

It looked ridiculous, and children would point at me in the street, but at least I didn’t have to go far – the Stalin Museum was only a few blocks away:

Stalin Museum in Gori

The museum had a monument of Stalin, the first one I had ever seen:

Stalin monument

And behind it, in a park in the center of the city of Gori, there was a large sort of pavilion:

Stalin's birthplace

And under the pavilion, the house that Stalin was born in:

the house Stalin was born in

Yes, this is how they used to do it in the “religion-is-opium-for-the-people” Soviet Union.

Stalin’s train was there, too:

Stalin's train

He, like his political bastard son Mao Zedong, loved traveling in his private train:

FD 3878

Among other things, the train had a bath room with a tub:

Stalin's bath tub on his train

It had a nice little bed room:

Stalin's room on his train

And a meeting area:

on Stalin's train

Being a dictator sure had its perks.

The museum itself was… well… full of Stalins:

inside the Stalin Museum in Gori

It was all very grand, in fact it had an almost Louvre-like feel to it:

Stalin exhibition

Mainly it was just busts, though:

Stalin bust

That and some pretty creepy paintings:

Stalin pics

I had come in expecting to see lots of Stalin & Mao bro-ing it out, but there was only one small painting somewhere in a corner. Besides that, there were gifts from the People’s Republic:

Chinese long form wishes

I had a good laugh when I got to the place where they showed his original uniform:

Stalin was so tiny lmao


When I asked the guides at the museum why there was no mention of Stalin’s terror and the millions of deaths, they sighed and took me to a tiny exhibition in the basement:

exhibition of Stalin's terror

It wasn’t much, and part of it wasn’t about Stalin at all, but about the non-Russian occupation of parts of Georgia a few years earlier.

When I went to the restroom I came back with this photo I had taken of a door in the administrative part of the museum:

Surveillance Service

This is what Communism is all about, isn’t it? I asked the guides.

This time we all had a good laugh.

Then I said bye to the dictator on his pedestal in front of his museum in his park:

bye Stalin

And I went back to the guesthouse and got a surprise serving of my favorite Georgian dish – lobio, an enormously tasty bean stew:


It had started to rain outside. I could hear it. Drippity-drop on the dictator’s head.



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  • ๅ‘จ่‹ๆ™“

    He, like his political bastard son Mao Zedong, loved traveling in his private train: you really dislike Mao each corner, he did terrrible things with no any doubt, but which one who seizes powder in the river of long human history not? Yesterday, today, tomorrow and on! The sun is rising in the east and sinking in the West, thatโ€™s it!


  • Kurt Scheibl

    I enjoyed the Stalin museum far more (and relaxed about the lack of a discussion of his impact) when realizing that it is actually not a museum of Stalin, it is a museum of a museum of Stalin, accurate the way it would have been during his cult of personality period.


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