A forgotten genocide

Sochi has always been a plaything in Moscow's hands. Sochi's modern history begins in 1864, when the tsar’s army concluded the long war of conquest in the Caucasus and up in what will be the Olympic ski resorts of Krasnaya Polyana, defeated the last organised Caucasian army. Thousands of Caucasians, from Dagestan to Sochi Russia & Turkey , crossed the sea to present-day Turkey, then the Ottoman Empire. The crossing was sometimes a self-organised escape, but just as often it was facilitated by the Russian army, in preparation for Russian colonisation of parts of the Caucasus. This 'Circassian Genocide' is commemorated each year on 21 May in Turkey and across the Caucasian diaspora. The descendants of Caucasian refugees are still guards of honour in the armies of Turkey, Israel, Jordan and Syria.

The board of the Abkhaz society. Kayseri, Turkey, 2010. Hand painted wooden bullets are part of the traditional Abkhaz costumes. Kayseri, Turkey, 2010.

In the remotest corners of Turkey you can find Caucasian associations where members valiantly attempt to uphold traditions from the motherland. In a bend in the road to Krasnaya Polyana Krasnaya Polyana Sochi Region ’s ski resorts, a small monument recalls the Russian victory there. At the time some parts of the Black Sea coast was impassable, where the steep, densely wooded foothills of the Caucasus plunged into the sea. Other parts, like those around Sochi, consisted mainly of coastal marshes where malaria was rife. Forts were built along the coast, which fell alternately into the hands of the Ottomans and Russians. After 1864, however, the Russians began developing their newly acquired colony in earnest. The mineral baths in the Caucasus, such as those in Matsesta, were built and civilised. Riviera Park, now a famous amusement park, was the first hotel-cum-sanatorium in what would become Sochi. Sanatoria are part of a grand Russian tradition. Inspired by German spas like those at Baden-Baden, where famous Russian writers including Turgenev, Tolstoy, and Chekhov conversed with the European elite, tsarist Russia began erecting its own retreats on the shores of the Black Sea, around Sochi, in the Crimea and south towards Georgia.

Palaces for the proletariat

When the October Revolution caught Russia by surprise, Sochi still had relatively little to recommend it. The city had just outgrown its status as the last stronghold against the Caucasians and Turks. The marshes were barely dry before Lenin, in the early years of his regime, issued a decree stating that the entire coastline around Sochi, including the healing sulphur springs of Matsesta, should be opened to the Russian proletariat. He called them palaces for the proletariat, and a handful of them can still be found in Sochi today.
All the ministries, army units, unions and factories erected holiday accommodations and remedial resorts for their employees. Small, young Sochi grew into a grand dame. Its palm trees, flowers and tepid waters were immortalised in hundreds of songs. .

A trip to Sochi was the best thing that could happen to a Soviet at the time.

A trip to Sochi as a reward for hard work or to recuperate from an injury or illness was the best thing that could happen to a Soviet at the time. Sanatoria were built in all shapes and sizes: from the hyper-modern Red Army Sanatorium to neo-classical confections such as Metallurg (for metalworkers), Ordzhonikidze (for miners) and Rossiya (for the party elite).

Tweede Wereldoorlogveteraan Viktor Boerjanov werd na de oorlog actief voor de afdeling transport bij de gemeente Sotsji. Nu is hij gepensioneerd, en woont in een flat vol veteranen of anderszins geprivilegieerden. Vol smaak herinnert hij zich hoe hij de bekendheden door Sotsji reed en aan hun speciale wensen moest voldoen. “Die kosmonauten,” grapt hij, “zouden zogenaamd niet drinken? Niemand heb ik zoveel cognac zien drinken als Joeri Gagarin. We konden het niet aanslepen!” In zijn huis gedecoreerd met opgezette dieren en posters met blote vrouwen vertelt hij anekdote na anekdote. “ik heb de mooiste actrice van die tijd begeleid. Ze wilde naar een zo rustig mogelijk strandje om topless te kunnen zwemmen. Ik moest mijn vrouw wel meenemen. Die wist zeker dat haar tieten nep waren.” Hij ontkurkt een flesje wodka en zegt plechtig zijn toast: “Op het moederland, op Stalin.” WWII veteran Viktor Buryanov worked for Sochi’s municipal transport department after the war. He is now retired and lives in a block of flats with other veterans and otherwise privileged retirees. He remembers with relish how he drove celebrities around Sochi and had to comply with their special requests. “Those cosmonauts supposedly didn't drink?” he quips. “I've never seen anyone drink as much cognac as Yuri Gagarin. We couldn't supply enough!" In his house, decorated with stuffed animals and posters of naked women, he recounts anecdote after anecdote. "I accompanied the most beautiful actress of the time. She wanted to go to a quiet beach to swim topless. I had to bring my wife along. She was sure the actress’s breasts were fake." He uncorks a bottle of vodka and makes a solemn toast: “To the motherland, to Stalin.” Sanatorium Ordzhonikidze

Sochi also became a refuge for Soviet leaders, acclaimed cosmonauts, actors and other members of the Soviet jet set. Jozef Stalin is known to have regularly spent months at a time here, with his daughter at his side and party faithful like security chief Lavrentiy Beria nearby. This was where Stalin made decisions about life and death during the Great Terror and the famines in Ukraine. His dacha – country house – in Sochi can still be admired, painted a subdued camouflage green so as to be invisible from the air. In the small museum, a waxwork Stalin sits at his desk, looking out sympathetically from behind a bushy moustache. The bedrooms and meeting rooms can still be hired as a hotel and conference centre. It was said that the indefatigable communist leader Leonid Brezhnev could never have stayed in power for so long had he not immersed himself in Matsesta’s medicinal baths for several weeks each year. Brezhnev’s small dacha still stands next to the large, pompous Matsesta building.

The collapse of the Soviet Union also heralded the decline of the sanatoria. Under capitalism, the palaces for the proletariat were no longer profitable. Today, valiant attempts are being made to preserve the sanatoria in their original state. They remain fully booked year round. Workers arrive in the summer; retired and infirm employees fill up the rest of the seasons. It is a hopeless cause, however. The often poorly constructed buildings are too large to be maintained with the paltry income generated by the guests. Most Russians with a little more money to spend stay in private hotels or fly to Turkey, Egypt and beyond. While the sanatoria’s patrons lament the visible decay, the managers bemoan the fact that their palaces are not yet five-star facilities. But who knows? The International Olympic Committee was lured to Sochi for these facilities and this spa history, and the Olympic bidbook, which contains the promises made by the candidate city, lists a number of sanatoria as accommodation for guests and athletes – following extensive refurbishment.

Meatballs with cream three times a day

The train journey from places like Murmansk and distant Siberia takes several days.

In the early spring, summer and autumn hundreds of thousands of Russians flock to Sochi to spend time in a sanatorium. The majority of visits are organised through municipalities, factories, employers or unions but individual bookings are on the rise. The train journey from places like Murmansk and distant Siberia takes several days. But the first glimpse of the Black Sea, and with any luck a leaping dolphin, the small pebble beaches lined with large white hotels, palm trees and tea plantations make it all worthwhile. Overheated and weighed down with luggage, they crowd the tiny train stations. Lazarevskoye, Loo, Dagomys Coast of Sochi Sochi region ... The majority alight in Sochi, at a beautiful, light-filled station built in Stalin's Empire style. They are met by buses and marshrutkas, small private buses, that take them to their final destination. The most prominent sanatoria and hotels can be found on Sochi's longest road, Kurortnaya Prospekt (‘Sanatoria Road’). Of these, Sanatorium Metallurg is one of the finest. In 2009 we decide to try our hand at embedded journalism and sign up for a two-week stay at Metallurg. From the road, stately steps lead up the palace in the distance. Throughout the park is a network of paths with coloured arrows, each serving a different purpose. There is a conditioning path, a digestive disease path, a cardiovascular path. Hidden in the grounds is a swimming pool, elaborately decorated with socio-realist scenes, which is filled every day with several thousand litres of filtered seawater. In the sanatorium itself, we embark on a quest for the correct papers. We walk from office to office and several hours later have accumulated a stack of coupons, booklets, brochures and tour folders. “This is normally all arranged in advance,” the lady at reception apologises.

Rob's treatment diary for Sanatorium Metallurg. Sochi, 2009.

Notes in treatment diary. Sochi, 2009.

The all-inclusive holiday could have been invented in Sochi.

The all-inclusive holiday could have been invented in Sochi. The vouchers, putyovkas, handed out by companies, unions and government bodies offer employees a package that includes meals, film screenings, treatments and accommodation. According to the nursing staff, a treatment in Sochi is only beneficial after at least two weeks rest, an unheard of luxury. The pace of life in the sanatorium is leisurely. The guests, possibly patients, amble from doctor's office to herb tea cafe, from sulphur bath to treatment room. We feign back and heart problems and answer 'yes' to all the options that are offered to us. We want massages, bubble baths, electrically charged clay treatments, herbal tea and yes, we definitely want to attend the 'honey and herbs from the Caucasus' information evening. Followed by a disco upstairs. Everything seems to be geared towards health and fitness, the walks in the park and morning exercises included. But like most hospitals, the three daily buffet meals somewhat hamper progress. From the kitchen issue bowls of rice pudding, greasy porridge, potatoes in all shapes and sizes, pasta, meatballs and fish submerged in fat. The salad bar looks healthy, but the Russian penchant for smetana, a sort of sour cream, should not be underestimated. Excessive amounts of the cream are mixed into the salad until a smetana-salad ball is all that remains. Staff come and go with bowls of the stuff. Dessert is cakes and biscuits filled with sweet, sticky jam.

Bandits from Moscow

Viktor Alexeevich on the private beach of sanatorium Metallurg. Sotsji, 2009.

On the small private beach, at the bottom of a steep staircase where our putyovkas are checked, we meet Viktor Alexeyevich. A retired shipbuilder from Murmansk, he has happily made use of the gratis opportunity to relax in Sochi for years. “Sochi used to be much prettier,” he says. “These days crooks from Moscow come here to build and sell skyscrapers and apartments, although it used to be such a small, lovely town. You can’t even see the sanatorium from the beach anymore. Still, it’s better than Murmansk.”

Siraj Sartakati “Don’t you find it terribly boring here?"

“Don’t you find it terribly boring here, with all those old people and outdated treatments?” Siray Sartakati, the 28-year-old marketing manager of Metallurg, asks us. “Look at this beautiful building. Shouldn’t there be clubs, bars and terraces?” On the contrary, we have been in the monumental sanatorium for a week and are having a great time among Russia’s elderly and infirm. Every day we are massaged, drink mineral water and revolting tea and bathe for 20 minutes in a radon bath. Wonderful. In the evening the sanatorium organises a disco and karaoke. Then all hell breaks loose, as the elderly guests throw themselves around the dance floor as if possessed. It is an entertaining spectacle.

A miniature Versailles

Siraj Sartakati “Everything has to be luxuriously finished.” “Everything has to be luxuriously finished,” says Siray, “made from real European materials. The atmosphere has to remain the same, but the quality has to be significantly improved.” He taps the window frames, walls and bronze doorknobs. The owner, the Association of Unions, has appointed him to overhaul the institution. “It all has to be finished by 2014, in time for the Winter Olympics. We'll then no longer be a sanatorium but a five-star hotel.” Siray is sitting on a gold mine. Metallurg is a miniature Versailles, where one can descend through extensive gardens, down endless steps past fountains and ponds to the private beach. The canteen is a stately ballroom. It is still a palace for the proletariat, as it was once intended, but not for much longer if Siray has his way.

Sanatorium

Now that new managers are trying to save the buildings and parks and to tap additional sources of tourism, the old proletariat may well miss out. If the transition continues, Russia’s growing middle class and elite will holiday here in the future. Without wanting to damage the old image, incidentally. For that the Sochi brand is still rock solid. Sanatorium USSR is already making a brave attempt, and has retranslated the four letters from Union of Soviet Socialist Republics to make it mean Friendly, Service Oriented, and One Hundred Per Cent Relaxing. Siraj Sartakati "For 2014 we’ve changed this town beyond recognition." But most Russians with money – not to mention foreigners – prefer cheap, exotic destinations such as Turkey and Egypt over the Black Sea coast. “The Soviet mentality and rudeness that still prevail here scare people away,” says Siray. “If the staff can’t adapt, they’ll be fired. But for 2014 we’ve changed this town beyond recognition.”

Pumping music

Guests dancing in summer cafe Proletarsky, at the boulevard. Sochi, 2011.

Tourist Sochi Respectable families and drunks carrying large bottles of beer walk side by side. is not quite as tranquil as the grounds of Sanatorium Metallurg. In the coastal areas, the smell of sunscreen, sweat, alcohol and roasting meat pervades the air. On the beaches, perspiring men with baskets of blackberries, popcorn and corn advertise their wares. Respectable families and drunks carrying large bottles of beer walk side by side. In the streets and alleys behind the beaches, clouds of smoke from grilling shashlik drift upward. On the promenades, voluptuous girls lure visitors to the attractions: throwing darts at balloons, shooting guns, having the skin on your feet nibbled off by special fish, parasailing, banana boating, having your photo taken with a wild African – the options are almost endless.

'A bunch of white roses, love lingers in each petal.' Like an amusement park, the sickly sweet music is fired on the million or so tourists crowding the long coastline around Sochi. It is inescapable. If there is no singer performing his tricks, the music pounds from huge speakers, and if there are no speakers, the music blares from several televisions. The same songs are played everywhere. You could fill notebooks with the number of times Biz Tebya (Without You) is played.

Chansons and Sochi belong together like sausage and mash.

Chansons and Sochi belong together like sausage and mash. Those looking for a relaxing holiday would do well to come in the winter, because in the summer Sochi is the capital of the Russian chanson. Chansons are Russian ballads, but the comparison with French chansons is only partial. The songs have their origins in the age-old Russian tradition of labour camps and prisons. They are tragic songs, about lost loves, life on the taiga and the longing for home. These days they are usually accompanied by a heavy disco beat and occasionally even a dash of techno. The modern Russian chanson is also called popsa, giving disco, house and pop music influences their own place in the genre. The chansons of past and present are often remixed into house music numbers which young and old can dance and sing along to.

Seniors refuse to be banned from the dance floor.

Young and old, because seniors refuse to be banned from the dance floor. With skirts hitched up and breasts strapped down, davay, the women are off. Older men excel at dancing as though they have just sat in a red ants’ nest. Small children are hoisted onto shoulders or wrap their arms around a partner their own size. After each song the dancers shuffle back to their tables, but often turn around again midway when they hear the beat of the next number.

Stolovaya are cheap cantines, where you can buy your lunch or dinner for floor prices. Dagomys, Sochi, 2011

Music and drink

The region’s promenades extend for dozens of kilometres, from Adler in the south to Dzhubga in the north. The coastline is composed of long stretches of pebble beach, concrete and the occasional tuft of grass. The promenades in the various resorts are largely identical: packed with the same wooden souvenir stands and a long row of restaurants, almost all serving the same food and playing the same kind of music. There must be thousands of them; the singers who grace the dinner and drink joints every evening. The singers are all ages. The older and more serious they are, the greater the chance that they were classically trained, at the Conservatory in Rostov or Krasnodar, sometimes even in Moscow or St Petersburg. For 50 euros a night they are happy to display their vocal talent. Some do it all year round, others move from restaurant to restaurant throughout the summer. Some work solo, others form duos. Some accompany themselves on a synthesizer, others play real instruments. And while some put their heart and soul into the songs, others seem miles away.

Every self-respecting restaurant has a singer.

Every self-respecting restaurant has a singer. Restaurants that have to share the cramped space with each other – like at Sochi’s desirable Riviera Park location – have built special singing booths of ribbed glass to direct the sound towards their own restaurant. These stand back to back with the booth of the next restaurant. It does little good. In restaurant Romashka it is a cacophony of different songs. Many guests seem to appreciate this and choose the exact spot where the sound converges. Two songs for the price of one. And why not? Exhausted guests sit around the tables. The music renders most conversation impossible, but the guests don’t seem to mind. After a long, scorching day on the beach, in the amusement parks, gardens and shops, most of them appear to enjoy losing themselves in the dramatic lyrics of chansons and popsa. 'My soul cannot sleep without you,' issues almost cheerfully from the speakers. Satisfied heads bob to and fro. 'I am beaten and crushed and am writing to you for the last time...' and at the tables the guests drink a toast.

Gebouwd in 1978, hotel Zhemchuzhina (Parel) is een gigantisch hotel, een wereld in zichzelf. Het hotel heeft 956 kamer, 8 restaurants, 2 nachtclubs, winkels en een gigantisch zoutwaterzwembad.Gebouwd in 1978, hotel Zhemchuzhina (Parel) is een gigantisch hotel, een wereld in zichzelf. Het hotel heeft 956 kamer, 8 restaurants, 2 nachtclubs, winkels en een gigantisch zoutwaterzwembad.Gebouwd in 1978, hotel Zhemchuzhina (Parel) is een gigantisch hotel, een wereld in zichzelf. Het hotel heeft 956 kamer, 8 restaurants, 2 nachtclubs, winkels en een gigantisch zoutwaterzwembad.Gebouwd in 1978, hotel Zhemchuzhina (Parel) is een gigantisch hotel, een wereld in zichzelf. Het hotel heeft 956 kamer, 8 restaurants, 2 nachtclubs, winkels en een gigantisch zoutwaterzwembad.Gebouwd in 1978, hotel Zhemchuzhina (Parel) is een gigantisch hotel, een wereld in zichzelf. Het hotel heeft 956 kamer, 8 restaurants, 2 nachtclubs, winkels en een gigantisch zoutwaterzwembad.Gebouwd in 1978, hotel Zhemchuzhina (Parel) is een gigantisch hotel, een wereld in zichzelf. Het hotel heeft 956 kamer, 8 restaurants, 2 nachtclubs, winkels en een gigantisch zoutwaterzwembad.Gebouwd in 1978, hotel Zhemchuzhina (Parel) is een gigantisch hotel, een wereld in zichzelf. Het hotel heeft 956 kamer, 8 restaurants, 2 nachtclubs, winkels en een gigantisch zoutwaterzwembad. Built in 1978, Zhemchuzhina (meaning “pearl”) is a sprawling Soviet hotel on Sochi’s beachfront. It is its own world. In addition to 956 rooms, the complex encompasses 8 restaurants, 14 bars, 2 nightclubs, shops, a swimming pool, a theater, and a billiards room. You can spend all day swimming laps in the enormous saltwater pool, lying on the beach, dining in the numerous restaurants on the promenade, or lounging on an artificial peninsula in the center of the complex.

Built in 1978, Zhemchuzhina (meaning ‘pearl’) is a sprawling Soviet hotel on Sochi’s beachfront. It is its own world. In addition to 956 rooms, the complex encompasses 8 restaurants, 14 bars, 2 nightclubs, shops, a swimming pool, a theatre and a billiards room. The waiters in the American Diner can still remember how foreigners were catered to in the 1980s, when they were made to feel at home with hamburgers and the option to pay in dollars. Each level in Hotel Zhemchuzhina has its own floor lady, who oversees the correct use of the rooms, monitors which guests come and go and takes laundry home to supplement her income. Natalya was our favourite, not only because of her eye-catching appearance but also because she had turned her floor into a second living room, with warm words on arrival and motherly advice on departure. Zhemchuzhina has become increasingly expensive. Floor after floor has been refurbished. Profitable oddities have gradually disappeared; rooms with breakfast included used to cost one-and-a-half times the amount of a similar room with breakfast that you paid for separately each day.

Yulia "There aren’t many good nightclubs, but hey, we Muscovites are spoiled.”

Yulia and Vasha. Adler, Sochi regio, 2011.

The Florida of Russia

A young man named Vasya is sitting on a concrete seawall dotted with pebbles and rusty piers that run into the water. A cameraman from Moscow, he has just completed an assignment in Abkhazia Abkhazia , farther to the south. He is now enjoying a short holiday in Adler, on the Russian side of the border. His older girlfriend, Yulia, has come with him. Her nipples are covered with two silver stars; topless sunbathing in Russia is not permitted. “Look around you,” Vasya points to the stone desert. “It’s fantastic.” The waves break on the beach, making a magical sound as they retreat and drag the pebbles with them. The sound almost drowns out the popsa (Russian pop) and house music coming from various telephones and ghetto blasters. “There aren’t many good nightclubs, but hey, we Muscovites are spoiled.” Yulia’s only reservation is “all the Caucasians” who live here. “We’re from Moscow and the culture here is very different. There are more Muslims.”

Our conversation is cut short by a passing train. The woman next to us introduces herself as Ekaterina. “Sochi is the Florida of Russia, but cheaper,” she says. Ekaterina “Sochi is the Florida of Russia, but cheaper.” Ekaterina on the pebble beach at Kurortny Gorodok. Adler, Sochi region, 2009 “My daughter lives in Kansas and we bought an apartment together in Sochi, for me to retire to. It’s heavenly. The climate is subtropical but you can hike in the cool mountains whenever you want.” The average tourist we speak to comes from far-flung places like Murmansk, Rostov-on-Don, Nizhny Tagil or Novosibirsk. Yelena is from Novy Urengoy. She has spent days on end lying motionless on the beach. She occasionally rotates her arms in order to distribute as much sun over her body as evenly as possible. “My parents work in the gas industry. In my village our summer lasts three months; there's snow and ice until late May. And when summer finally arrives, so do the mosquitoes. We spend three weeks slapping ourselves and itching.” Sochi is paradise in comparison. In the gardens behind the promenades, far from the incessant stream of tourists, are Sochi’s inhabitants. These are the people who describe the tourists as Bzdykhs, a stinging term unknown outside Sochi. But anyone who has been to a beach resort knows what it means: the overweight beer and spirit drinkers, the bare bodies in sandals, the noisy eaters with their drunken bluster and tacky music. The locals have little choice. Well-heeled Russians take refuge in the fancier hotels or more often opt to holiday in Italy, France, Turkey, Spain, Thailand and Vietnam. The Olympic Games may give Sochi the quality injection that would keep the Bzdykhs away. But it is more likely that as a result the city will become more expensive, chaotic and crowded, making it difficult even for the Bzdykhs to listen to their favourite chansons or popsa hits here.

Russia’s summer capital is being transformed into the world’s winter capital.

The pebble beach of Adler, Sochi region, 2011.

Empty marshland

And the Olympics? They are of interest only to a few. Tourists hope that Sochi won’t change too much or become too expensive. Residents hope that the Games will bring a few more financial opportunities, but mainly want to stay a holiday destination, the summer capital of Russia – where Putin can come to swim leisurely lengths in the pool. Sochi is already doing quite well as it is.

propagandafilm Sochi 2014 Place where the Olympic Stadiums will be built. Adler, Sochi region, 2009

It is 2009 and on a swathe of empty coastal marshland on the coast Coastal Cluster Sochi region , near the border with small neighbouring Abkhazia, blue fences are being erected. The old state farm sovkhoz Rossija (‘Russia’) is preparing to accommodate the most compact, modern Winter Olympics ever. The skating rinks, Olympic village, numerous hotels, airport and train stations will all be built within about five minutes’ walk of each other. High in the mountains, construction is just as compact. Skating under palm trees, overlooking leaping dolphins. Russia’s summer capital is being transformed into the world’s winter capital. Under an authoritarian regime awash with oil and gas money, anything is possible. But gradually, voices of dissent that hope to exert influence on the Games are beginning to make themselves heard.

Chapter V deals with the transformation of Sochi into a winter capital. Read more about Sochi in Sochi Singers and Sanatorium on ISSUU. Sochi Singers is also for sale in our webshop.

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