My trip to Abkhazia – an unrecognized republic that fought a war in 1992-93 to gain independence from Georgia – began in Sukhumi, where I met Ivan Kalitin, a peacekeeper posted at the entrance of the Moscow military district sanatorium there.

Wearing a bullet-proof vest and carrying an automatic rifle, Kalitin and his two fellow soldiers at the checkpoint contrasted oddly with the sanatorium residents coming and going. Kalitin gave my papers a thorough check and directed me to the Joint Peacekeeping Forces Headquarters.

"Our headquarters are on the sanatorium's territory, but we don't get in the way of the people who come here to rest. Indeed, they are safer here with us around," said peacekeeping headquarters spokesman Col. Valery Pakusayev.

Pakusayev said that because the situation in Akbkazia has calmed down, this year the sanatorium was filled with a lot more officers and their families. Though, he added, they were still a long way from finding solutions to all the issues facing the region. That Abkhazia is still not over the war became clear at every turn. Sukhumi, the republic's capital, is full of abandoned buildings, some gutted by fire, others with their windows entirely smashed. Georgians, who made up almost half the population of Abkhazia, have left their homes behind and fled to Georgia proper or other parts of the former Soviet Union.

"It's going to take a long time before the Georgian refugees return to their homes, and that means the peacekeepers will be stationed here for a long time," Pakusayev said. Both Pakusayev and the peacekeepers' commander, Lt. Gen. Sergei Korobko are now into their third year in Abkhazia.

"Only a fraction of the peacekeepers are here in the sanatorium," said Korobko. "Most of them, more than 80 percent of the 1,800 contingent, are in the Galsky region and at posts along the Inguri River, which carves Abkhazia from the rest of Georgia. Our peacekeepers are on both sides of the border, 12 km into each side."

Korobko described the atmosphere at the posts as calm, but unstable. The calmness is based only on the absence of conflict. As for the instability, it arises from the large number of small groups of fighters in and around the security zone, Korobko said. "These are criminal groups; it's all the same to them who they rob – Georgians, Abkhaz, Mingrelians or Svanis," Korobko said, adding that the groups usually rob people of their hazelnut crops.

Korobko declined to comment on the conflict's political background, saying that it wasn't his job to do so. The closest he came to politics was when he said that the main problem was Abkhazia's future status. Officials in Sukhumi see Abkhazia as an independent state, while Tbilisi says it is an autonomous part of Georgia.

I flew with Korobko by helicopter to several posts. The posts were located and equipped in such a way that the soldiers could perform their peacekeeping duties and also defend themselves if need be. At the checkpoints, I was met by smiling soldiers and local people. They gave the impression of having good relations with each other.

At first glance, it looks like the peacekeepers have an easy job – standing at checkpoints, checking papers or helping locals. But Korobko called this impression deceptive, saying that peacekeepers had many problems to deal with.

"Previously, battalions were stationed in the security zone for six months, and the soldiers would be exhausted by the end of their stint," Korobko said. "But now, the motorized infantry troops will spend a year here. That's very difficult. The checkpoint barracks are 40 by 60 meters. The soldiers are there the whole time, they never go anywhere. Peacekeepers are not allowed to bring their wives into the security zone, and we're still sorting out the issue of leave. I've asked for officers to be given leave after six months."

The commander of the Gudauta Russian military base, Col. Alexander Shushukin, echoed Korobko's words, saying that serving in Abkhazia was sometimes even more difficult than in Kosovo, except that in Kosovo, Russian peacekeepers were paid in dollars and almost 10 times more than what peacekeepers in Abkhazia earn. Shushukin said he had only professional soldiers in his regiment, but noted that because of the low pay, Gadauta is not a prestigious posting.

The fate of the base itself remains uncertain. Under the terms of the Istanbul Agreement signed by Russia and Georgia in 1999, Russia must withdraw from its Gudauta base by the end of this year.

"We will leave, but what military presence will remain in the Galsky region?" Shushukin asked rhetorically. "We'll pull out, but no one will let us take our arms with us. We don't intend to fight our way out, so what we end up with is a dead end situation."

I was given a tour of the regiment's comfortable-looking barracks and well-maintained garrison where the officers and their families live.

"Let the Russian peacekeepers stay in Abkhazia, send your officers and people to us for their holidays, we'll take everyone and warm them, but don't leave Abkhazia," said the unrecognized republic's defense minister, Vladimir Mikanba.

When I was leaving Abkhazia, Mikanba added with a steely note in his voice, "You write there, so that they'll know in the Kremlin, that we won't let a single bullet, let alone any armored vehicles, be taken from the territory of the Gadauta base or anywhere else in Abkhazia."

Commenting on the situation with the base, Russian Defense Ministry officials said it would probably be given the status of a peacekeeping base. This means that so long as the Russian peacekeepers have a mandate for their mission in Abkhazia, they will remain there.

As for the question of just how long this will be, it will probably be a long time. Russia has its own interests in this region.