

I was of two minds about visiting Gori – Stalin’s hometown. The idea of glorifying one of the greatest oppressors and mass murders of the modern age sickens me. On the other hand I knew very little about the man and in the end the chance to learn something won out over my revulsion.
I can’t say that the grand museum dedicated to Mr. Stalin painted a particularly balanced view of the man but it’s hard to tell since very little of it is in English. Helpfully an English-speaking guide was provided who walked me through the main exhibits as she recited a carefully crafted monologue. I learned of Stalin’s childhood as well as his early revolutionary activities which resulted in exile and multiple imprisonments. I lost the plot after 1917 and resorted to nodding thoughtfully at the endless parade of black and white photographs illustrating his meteoric rise through the ranks. Along the way I got to see the one room house he was born in, the desk he sat at, the luxury carriage he rode in and the cane he walked with. The tour concluded with the creepiest room of all – a dramatically-lit podium exhibiting a ‘death mask’ cast shortly after he took his last breath.
I’m glad I went but I won’t be going back.