Don Curry at the dictator

Don Curry had already considered whether he really wanted to do this during the planning of the trip. There was no other option given the travel structure than to stay overnight in Gori. But should he really visit the most important sight of Gori? That museum dedicated to the city's greatest son? The museum of Ioseb Bessarionis dse Jughashvili? Better known as Stalin. He decided to expose himself to it.

The day started much more enjoyable than the last few days, with bright sunshine. The breakfast buffet hadn't changed at all, but it seemed to taste better today. After checking out of the hotel, Don Curry first drove to the center of Kutaisi to admire the remarkable Colchis Fountain in the city center. Then he went deep into the mountains north of Kutaisi. After numerous curves and an hour's drive, Xerra finally stopped in the mountain village of Nikortsminda.

Once again, a church aroused Don Curry's curiosity. The Cathedral of Nikortsminda dates back to the 11th century, when this village was of much greater importance. The church is famous above all for its extraordinary façade decoration: virtuoso framed windows, portal sculptures above the entrances, sophisticated geometric motifs in various places, even the dome tower shows elaborate decorations. The feast for the eyes continued delightfully inside the church. A complete painting from the 17th century could be preserved almost completely. Don Curry reveled and tried to fathom the individual representations.

The further journey to Gori offered even more curves and a travel time of over 3 hours. At times, the route offered magnificent views of the Greater Caucasus and its snow-covered peaks. Arriving in Gori, Don Curry found the Hotel Georgia Gold in an extremely confusing situation. Numerous young people were constantly coming and going, and the reception remained completely inaccessible. A young woman explained to him that there was currently a conference in the hotel, but she would take care of him. After a long wait and filling out a form, Don Curry was finally able to check in. He quickly unloaded his luggage and set off on the short walk to the Stalin Museum.

In front of the marble punk building, there is a kind of Greek temple, in whose colonnade there is a small inconspicuous cottage. That is supposed to be Stalin's birthplace, which cannot be entered, though. Inside the museum, a magnificent staircase leads up to an oversized statue of the dictator, followed by a wide exhibition on the biography and outstanding merits of Comrade Stalin on the upper floor. Don Curry felt sickened by all the hero worship. Apparently, it had been decided to continue operating the museum, which originated from Soviet times, unchanged and thus uncritically. One of the greatest criminals and mass murderers of the 20th century was depicted here as a wise leader of the nation and a caring caretaker for his people. A large oil painting showed Stalin at a congress of progressive collective farms, where he was idolized by numerous land women of all ages. Even more unbearable for Don Curry was the last room on the upper floor. It contained only two exhibits: a large painting of Stalin on his deathbed and a kind of death mask on a black velvet cushion, surrounded by a circle of white columns.

Only at the end did Don Curry discover two rather hidden rooms on the ground floor that pointed to the many crimes, arrests, and politically motivated killings of the Stalin era. At least a small approach to relativization. Next to the museum stands the railway carriage in which Stalin used to travel through his empire. With a certain satisfaction, Don Curry noted that luxury and comfort were apparently not criteria for equipping the vehicle.

In search of dinner, Don Curry roamed the city center of Gori extensively without finding anything suitable. So he returned to the hotel restaurant, where he would be the only diner. After a spicy chicken soup, he was served grilled veal pieces with adjika, the Georgian spice paste, and the french fries arrived 10 minutes later. He also had Georgian Khevsuruli beer, unfortunately not on tap. Once again, this meal showed that hotel restaurants rarely meet culinary demands, as they already have new guests coming every day.

Nevertheless, Don Curry fell into his bed feeling satiated and had to digest not only the lavish food but also his encounter with this inhumane Stalin. He is glad that there will never/hopefully never be a Hitler museum in Germany...