{"id":15366,"date":"2023-04-25T15:04:19","date_gmt":"2023-04-25T13:04:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wobblyride.com\/?p=15366"},"modified":"2023-04-25T15:04:22","modified_gmt":"2023-04-25T13:04:22","slug":"tskaltubo-an-old-abandoned-soviet-spa-resort","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wobblyride.com\/pl\/2023\/04\/25\/tskaltubo-an-old-abandoned-soviet-spa-resort\/","title":{"rendered":"Tskaltubo. A Travelogue from an Old Soviet Spa Resort"},"content":{"rendered":"

Tskaltubo, a small Georgian town 9 kilometres from Kutaisi was one of the most popular spa resorts of the USSR, attracting more than 100 000 visitors a year. Today, most sanatoriums are abandoned, some serve as housing for refugees from nearby Abkhazia. Few tourists come to enjoy the healing properties of the radon-carbonated waters of Tskaltubo. The town has become one of the most popular destinations for urban explorers in Georgia.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Even through my thick soles, I felt the funky sensation of glass crackling under my feet. A pack of stray dogs didn\u2019t care. They walked on the shards as if their paw pads hardened through the years of straying in abandoned sanatoriums of Tskaltubo. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The smallest pup took a sip from the paddle on the concrete floor, his tongue sweeping with delight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The flock trotted ahead, stopping every few seconds to check if I followed. It seemed like they took on the role of guides through the old Soviet sanatoriums. They agilely navigated through the holes in the floors and binding wires sticking out the walls. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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That was the only Tskaltubo the dogs knew in their short life, but it wasn\u2019t always like that. Before 1991, when the Soviet Union collapsed, this little town in western Georgia was a blooming resort, one of the finest in the whole country. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

‘It used to be such a lovely place,’ sighed Nunu, an elderly lady from my guesthouse, settling onto a garden bench. ‘I worked at the springs. There were so many tourists coming all the time. There was a direct train from Moscow, you know? Four times a day! We had all kinds of candy, chocolate, and good meat in the shops. And things were cheap! Now everything is expensive, and there are no jobs. And there was peace and friendship. The youth says we should be friends with the Americans, but America is far away. I\u2019d rather be friends with our neighbours, Russians, as we used to be. ‘<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Soviet Right to Rest<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

In the Soviet times, the workers from the entire country would come to Tskaltubo with their putevka <\/em>– vouchers that enabled them to enjoy the treatments (at least partially) at the cost of the state.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The right to rest was an inherent part of Soviet socialism. From 1922, the labour code of the USSR stated that each worker was entitled to two weeks of vacation. Unlike modern holidays, Soviet spa stays were highly optimised<\/a> to ensure an efficient recovery so that the working class members were as productive as possible to fulfil the quotas the party had set for their industries. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

That explained why the few beds left in Sanatorium Imereti were single beds. At least until the late 50s, the people of the Soviet Republic were supposed to vacation alone, without wasting their energy on romantic time with their spouses or playing with their kids. The husband and wife rarely received a voucher for the same resort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some of the hardest-working professions of the USSR, like miners and metallurgists, had their own designated sanatoriums (which explained the names of Sanatorium Metalurg and Shakhtior in Tskaltubo).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Stalin\u2019s dacha<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Not only regular workers would come to Tskaltubo and benefit from the healing properties of unique radon waters. The neoclassical hotels and richly decorated baths often hosted the political elite of the USSR. Tskaltubo was allegedly Stalin\u2019s favourite resort. He even had his dacha and a private bath in Bathhouse No. 6.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The dictator\u2019s holiday house was on a hill, on the side of a forest. I passed by a yellow umbrella-shaped bus stop and the grey modernist building of the Hotel Skartvelo. The sun was approaching the still snow-capped peaks of the Caucasus, and the air was filled with this humid, earthy smell of early spring. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stalin\u2019s dacha was in a derelict state. If I hadn’t known, I would never guess that one of the most famous dictators in history enjoyed his holidays here, surrounded by the chirping of birds and an intoxicating smell of resin. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Resort feel<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Even though most sanatoriums and baths have been out of service for over 30 years, one could still feel the relaxed resort aura. I felt like on vacation<\/em> for the first time in weeks, even though I still had to work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I spent each morning strolling through the enormous park, full of tiny colourful flowers resurrecting after winter. The fresh but humid air made the trees and columns overgrow with ivy and moss. The omnipresent greenery soothed the eyes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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My brain slowed down, and my tense back started loosening up. Despite not signing up for radon water baths or mud treatment, I felt like a bather whose only task was to enjoy my stay in Tskaltubo. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Marina, the owner of my guesthouse, contributed to that state, bringing me cookies and homemade jam. I consumed it while contemplating the weird lamps in the shape of half-naked women that funnily fit into the grandma-style little kitchen with old enamel pots and blunt knives. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sanatorium Metalurg<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Five minutes from my guesthouse stood one of the most stunning pieces of Stalinist classicism, a pompous sanatorium Metalurg. Rows of ionic columns, detailed plasterwork and crystal chandeliers looked almost too bourgeois for metal workers who were the guests of this facility. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In awe, we walked around. I was with Frank, a German tourist who stopped in Tskaltubo for a couple of months on his journey to India to discover himself. The entrance hall looked so intact as if the sanatorium had closed just a few weeks earlier. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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We heard steps on the curved staircase. An older gentleman politely nodded in response to our greeting and said yes when we asked if we could walk around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Exploring the abandoned hotels of Tskaltubo was different from a typical Urbex adventure. Although the sanatoriums and baths ceased their operations together with the fall of the USSR, the buildings weren’t empty<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 1992, when war broke out in neighbouring Abkhazia, 250 000 Georgians had to leave their homes. Big hotels and sanatoriums in Tskaltubo seemed like a perfect place to host the refugees. Entire families moved into empty rooms. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

What was supposed to be a temporary accommodation for some people became a home for 30 years. Many refugees received new apartments, but thousands<\/a> still lived in sanatoriums.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The people of Tskaltubo were caught in a state of uncertainty, a limbo of sorts. The sanatoriums lay unrestored, attracting only urban explorers and bringing little revenue. The job opportunities were limited. It was hard for refugees to find housing. They were doomed for the sanatoriums. Their presence made it impossible to find investors who could renovate the buildings and make Tskaltubo a vibrant spa resort again. This created a vicious cycle that seemed impossible to break.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Sanatorium Gelati<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

The first thing one notices when looking at Sanatorium Gelati are boarded-up balconies, which serve as little kitchens for the inhabitants. It felt wrong, almost voyeuristic, to intrude and snoop. But I knew I could find some gems behind the building without invading the privacy of people living in Gelati. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Through thick mud, I reached a strange construction with vivid mosaics. It must have been a playground, as illustrations of exotic animals and children dominated the walls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some of the little tiles were peeling off. The colours faded, but I could still appreciate the details and the meticulous work someone did to create this piece.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It looked like the livestock had overtaken the playground. I had to look under my feet, cautiously manoeuvring between manure and glass. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The Bazaar<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Click-seeking YouTubers and bloggers often portray Tskaltubo as an abandoned ghost town. Visiting the bazaar, you can quickly find out the truth was quite different. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Old taxis, squeaking white marshrutka buses and buzzing conversations in front of the market hall showed that Tskaltubo was pretty much alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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For such a small town, the number of taxis was astonishing. With high employment rates, that was the best some men with a car could do: hang around at the square and hope someone needed a ride.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the bazaar, merchants tried to convince people to buy their goods. They pointed out at garlands of churchkhela – the local sweet snack in different shades, trying to lure the few tourists by shouting: Georgian snickers!<\/em> Fresh pomegranates, hulky tomatoes, jars of homemade vegetable sauces – they had everything. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The temptation to buy the fresh greens was great, but I knew I was too lazy to stand in the small kitchen of Marina’s guesthouse, chopping and cooking. Having dinner in the small shoarma booth filled with the oil scent seemed more convenient.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Central Park <\/h2>\n\n\n\n

All 22 sanatoriums and the entire town of Tskaltubo encircled an enormous park. Just strolling between pines overgrown with lichens and luscious sycamores felt healing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the real magic in the Soviet days happened in the bathhouses. The unique radon-carbonate mineral water was supposed to heal various conditions, from hypertension and hypotension to eczema and even infertility. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nature was slowly overtaking the round building of Bathhouse No. 8. On the walls, you could still see the cheerful deer paintings the patients must have stared into while soaking in the radon waters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Today, it was still possible to get a similar treatment in the nearby Bathhouse No. 6. There was a constant stream of people in front of the white building with classical columns. Here, it looked like Tskaltubo was still in its heydays.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hope was in the air. For the last few years, the locals have heard big promises from politicians<\/a> about making Tskaltubo one of Europe’s most prestigious spa destinations. Was it possible to get Tskaltubo out of limbo? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

‘Come for a tour.’ The night before my departure Marina called me and invited me to the upper floor of her house. There was no damp smell or moisture, like in my room on the ground floor. The walls were freshly painted, there was new furniture, and the bathroom was shiny. The new kitchen was spacious and modern. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

‘Enough space for a party.’ Marina laughed. ‘When you return to Tskaltubo, there will be a different standard here.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was weirdly sure she was right, not only about her guest house. My intuition told me that when I travel to Tskaltubo again in a few years, it will be a different place, where Nunu and Marina won\u2019t have a reason to complain that everything was better back in the Soviet times. <\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Tskaltubo, a small Georgian town 9 kilometres from Kutaisi was one of the most popular spa resorts of the USSR, attracting more than 100 000 visitors a year. Today, most sanatoriums are abandoned, some serve as housing for refugees from nearby Abkhazia. Few tourists come to enjoy the healing properties […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":15406,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","_uag_custom_page_level_css":"","site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"default","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,1850,1754,19],"tags":[1856,1851,1853,1458,1852,1855,1854],"class_list":["post-15366","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-english","category-georgia","category-post-communist-countries","category-stories-from-the-road","tag-caucasus","tag-georgia","tag-soviet-sanatorium","tag-travelogue","tag-tskaltubo","tag-urban-exploring","tag-urbex"],"yoast_head":"\nTskaltubo. 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Today, most sanatoriums are abandoned, some serve as housing for refugees from nearby Abkhazia. Few tourists come to enjoy the healing properties […]","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wobblyride.com\/pl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15366","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wobblyride.com\/pl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wobblyride.com\/pl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wobblyride.com\/pl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wobblyride.com\/pl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=15366"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/wobblyride.com\/pl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15366\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wobblyride.com\/pl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15406"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wobblyride.com\/pl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15366"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wobblyride.com\/pl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15366"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wobblyride.com\/pl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15366"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}