Thanks to the Russian President's
ukaz decreeing that foreigners can stay for [visa expiration date] + 185 days, I've been happily stuck here in Russia since January (thank you Vladimir Vladimirovich). I'll have to leave next month so now seems like a good time to update this thread.
I first went to the Caucasus in early March. That was a fascinating trip, but in this post I'll write about my most recent visit to that region, a holiday in and around Sochi that I've just got back from.
Sochi is a holiday resort in the South of Russia on the Black Sea, at one end of the Caucasus mountains and very close to the border with Abkhazia (or Georgia if you choose not to recognize Abkhazia's independence). The coastline here is sometimes called the Caucasian Riviera, and together with the nearby Crimea it's the only warm water coastline in Russia. The climate is humid subtropical, and high forested mountains rise up just inland. It's a beautiful part of the world, and quite strange. Imagine a Soviet Monaco.
One of the books I had with me was a history of Russia, but it failed to cover the one subject that would have given me an insight into the surprising experiences I had while I was there: the Soviet tradition of taking your allotted two week holiday in a Black Sea sanatorium.
Soviet sanatoriums, which were also popular in Communist Eastern and Central Europe, were different from Western European and American sanatoriums (or sanitariums), which were mainly for chronic illness or mental disorders. The Soviet ones were more like holiday health resorts, but with more medical facilities than you would associate with a Western spa. I knew a little about them through my interest in modernist architecture, but I didn't know they were still a part of Russian life: that some of them are still going, that there are modern hotels that offer the same treatments, and that Russian attitudes to holidays and health are still informed by the tradition.
The system of sanatorium holidays was based on an ideology that combined patriotic dedication to hard work—which could only be ensured with an annual two week rest—with the ideal of a healthy lifestyle supported by natural therapies and "wellness", preventive medicine, strict diets (with no alcohol), and moral and intellectual edification. This was meant to contrast with the decadent bourgeois practice of going on holiday just to have fun.
Being a decadent Western (petit) bourgeois myself, I had intended to consume a lot of rich and unusual food and alcohol. The area produces delicious wine, seafood, figs and cheese are abundant, the local bread is as good as any French or Italian bread, but different. Lamb from the mountains is marinated and grilled over wood and served with plum sauce.
And that's what I did while we were in Sochi itself, in a hotel by the sea that I had booked. But for the second part of the holiday we moved to another hotel, this time in the mountains. My wife chose it and I didn't know much about it except that it looked nice, was surrounded by mountains, and they demanded a negative COVID‑19 test, which kind of impressed me.
On our first day at this hotel I got a cold, and my wife suggested I visit the
inhalatorium downstairs. My normal strategy against colds is like Field Marshal Kutuzov's successful strategy against Napoleon: do nothing and it'll go away. But I went along with her suggestion, and I was curious anyway. It turns out there was a kind of hospital downstairs, staffed by various medical specialists.
When the procedures were over and I'd taken the plastic tube out of my nose, my wife said she'd made some more appointments for me over the next few days and I could cancel them if I wanted. I didn't cancel them but I did resent the imposition, even though it was well-meant. I hadn't expected all this. Had it been intentional deception on my wife's part, or did it seem so normal to her that she hadn't thought to mention it? In any case, my own feeling is that I don't mind going to doctors but I don't want to do it when I'm trying to relax and enjoy myself. It began to dawn on me that there was more to this holiday than I'd been led to believe, that this was some kind of modern-day sanatorium.
And that's pretty much what it was: true, it wasn't called a sanatorium but a "medical spa hotel"; we weren't assigned the accommodation by the state; the services were not free; I could drink wine if I wanted (tellingly though, vodka was unavailable); and our daily timetable was not set by the staff. But otherwise it was definitely in the sanatorial tradition. The mineral water on tap and the oxygen cocktails at the bar all began to make sense.
As with the Soviet sanatoriums themselves, it wasn't all quackery. These were real doctors. I had a few diagnostic scans, general checkups and consultations, all of which seemed pretty legit. Turns out I need to lose weight, eat less salt and fried food, and drink less alcohol, or else I'll be at risk of heart attacks down the road. On the one hand, they would say that. On the other hand, they're probably right. It shouldn't have been a surprising diagnosis but I was shocked and disappointed, and became a bit depressed about it, which made me even more resentful.
Then I got gastroenteritis. The result was that I was stuck in the room most of the time, on a diet of gruel, plain rice, sauceless chicken breast, and herbal tea. And I couldn't drink coffee or alcohol. My mother-in-law had unexpectedly followed us to the same hotel, and she and my wife ganged up on me to make me comply with these rules.
Through sheer force of will I recovered after 24 hours and eased myself back to holiday decadence. My mother-in-law said that if I was going to drink so soon after my gastrointestinal troubles—which she did not advise—it should be Armenian brandy, which was okay with me. Of course, I couldn't get brandy in the hotel and had to go to a nearby cafe. Incidentally, the biggest name in Armenian brandy is Ararat, but Mount Ararat seems to be in Turkey, and only
visible from Armenia, so I don't know what's going on with that.
The biggest surprise came on the last day. I was due for another ultrasound check and I was expecting it to be the bladder and maybe even some gentle genital examination, but as I was undressing, my wife translated one of the doctor's questions, which was along the lines of "are you sure you're okay to do this now?" I saw the instrument by her side and asked, "is that an anal probe?" Indeed it was. For a moment I felt panic, but realized that backing out now would have been lame, and I had to start getting tested for prostate cancer anyway.
Lying on my side with a large and bulbous plastic transducer up my ass, I said to my wife, who was watching the whole thing, "this is the best holiday I've ever had". We all laughed, and afterwards I went straight out and had three Armenian brandies while waiting for the airport taxi.
In case you're wondering, my prostate is fine and I have a flawless rectum.
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The Rosa Springs Hotel ... offers treatment at the highest sanatorium standards in its own Health Center, specialized in health improvement through water using the healing mineral springs of Krasnaya Polyana.
The balneological direction of the hotel was not chosen by chance. It was in the Rosa Springs building during the 2014 Winter Olympics that the medical center was located with the latest diagnostic and treatment facilities for Olympians. The healing effect in the mountains of Krasnaya Polyana is achieved thanks to a life-giving combination of two elements - the sea and the mountains: ionized air has unique healing properties. — Rosa Springs Hotel
The tension between turning to nature for health and conquering nature through rapid industrialization and urbanization was inherent to the Soviet project at its origins. As I reveal, the health resort was cultivated as a place apart from the politics and mass mobilization of the city. Yet it encouraged popular attachment to the native land, and provided important benefits to the population, and so had a stabilizing function in Soviet society and culture, ultimately supporting the Soviet project. — Geisler, The Soviet Sanatorium: Medicine, Nature and Mass Culture in Sochi, 1917-1991
The photo below is of Druzhba Sanatorium, one of the famous Soviet-era Black Sea sanatoriums.
https://www.calvertjournal.com/features/show/9100/holidays-in-soviet-sanatoriums-ussr-tourism-photography
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanatorium_(resort)
The Soviet Sanatorium: Medicine, Nature and Mass Culture in Sochi, 1917-1991