Age 17, I was in the passenger seat of my pal Natalie’s yellow Fiat Panda, coasting along the road somewhere between Harewood and Harrogate in North Yorkshire singing along to Polish pop music.
A dishevelled farmhouse in the middle of a field caught our curiosity as we sped north. Natalie rolled her car into the grassy verge, we vaulted the fence, and trotted over to the building with our point and shoot cameras, eager to capture artistic shots that we could print out and stick to our bedroom walls in the Pre-Instagram Age.
A couple of clicks later we were interrupted by the sight of a herd of around 50 cows slowly making their way towards us. Slowly became faster and faster became us nosediving into the Panda, breathless and scratched with ripped clothing after a tumble into a ditch.
Back at Natalie’s house, we dialled up the internet and asked “Jeeves” if cows really did stampede or if we had imagined the whole thing. The friendly pixellated butler assured us pregnant cattle absolutely did stampede and that they wouldn’t have hesitated to trample us to death had we not scarpered.
We agreed that the learning of the story was that whenever trespassing in the future we would check for cows first.
Natalie went on to find success as an acclaimed photographer with a penchant for shooting in abandoned buildings while my curiosity for deserted and remote places has steered me into a forsaken hotel in Langkawi, a mountain ghost town in Cambodia, and an eerie old amusement park in Yangon.
When I heard about Tskaltubo, a tongue twister of a town in west Georgia brimming with abandoned sanatoriums and bathhouses, it flew to the top of my list during my summer stint in Kutaisi.
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Tskaltubo, Georgia: Then & Now
Tskaltubo – one of numerous Georgian towns that I cannot pronounce – blossomed into a popular spa destination under the Soviet Union. Daily direct trains whisked wellness seekers almost 2,000 kilometres from Moscow in their quest for ‘immortality’ from Tskaltubo’s healing mineral waters, loaded with radon-carbonate (yes, it’s as radioactive as it sounds).
These sizzling springs were discovered by chance at some point during the 7th and 9th centuries but it wasn’t until deeper research efforts swelled during the 18th and 19th centuries that they were transformed into a centre of balneotherapy. Tskaltubo was officially announced as a medical spa resort around 1930 and flourished during the 1950s, with a succession of 9 public bathhouses and 10 sanatoriums.
Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, the economic turbulence of World War II, and the 1992 outbreak of civil war in now-occupied Abkhazia, the therapeutic waters and unkempt sanatoriums of Tskaltubo faded to memory.
This once glorious spa town now stands in ruins. With exception to two of the bathhouses that have been refurbished, the vast majority of the buildings are crumbling away: furnishings were swiped and flogged in the years following the collapse of the Soviet Union while the guest rooms, tubs, treatment suites, and banquet halls are guzzled by ferns and vines. A number of the sanatoriums are inhabited by Internally Displaced People (IDPs) who fled Abkhazia during the Civil War.
As I read a couple of articles and blogs about Tskaltubo, the image I had was that the city itself was a ghost town. But, while the sanatoriums and bathhouses have fallen into dilapidation, the town itself proved charming and soulful. Although the streets were not busy, the Tskaltubo residents that we did meet out and about were as warm and friendly as elsewhere in Georgia.
Tskaltubo’s Abandoned Bathhouses & Sanatoriums
My boyfriend and I visited Tskaltubo as a day trip from Kutaisi where we spent a couple of weeks during the summer. We heard on the grapevine (The Internet) that it was possible to enter a number of the abandoned buildings and my adolescent curiosity was sparked.
The following bathhouses and sanatoriums are the ones that I personally visited during my day in Tskaltubo. We took our time to pore over as much detail as we could and so exploring these six filled the most part of the day. We crossed paths with a couple of other tourists however on the whole we had the buildings to ourselves. A couple of them featured warning signs but none were inaccessible or guarded and nobody asked us to leave.
It is also possible to stay in Tskaltubo in one of the modern hotels located around the Central Park which is ideal if you want to visit the abandoned buildings very early in the day and a wise idea during the fierce summer months.
Out of respect for privacy, we did not visit the buildings that are not currently lived in by IDPs with the exception of Sanatorium Medea, where it is possible to visit the grand entrance at the discretion of the residents.
Sanatorium Iveria
After hopping off the marshrutka close to the bus terminal in Tskaltubo, we whipped out Google Maps and followed the road marked as 26 მაისის ქუჩა to Sanatorium Iveria (exact location). Along the way, we passed another abandoned building that may have been a former bathhouse, however, it didn’t show up on Google and it wasn’t possible to go inside and investigate. We did not see any sign of people living in this one and the door was bolted shut.
Sanatorium Iveria is a four storied, grandiose hotel that dates back to 1962 and follows a typical Soviet style: huge, imposing, with minimal architectural embellishment. It is set on a large patch of untended land, teeming with weeds and vegetation.
This property was purchased by a private investor in 2016 and there are plans to build a new resort in its place. However, over five years later and no work has begun. There is a steel fence around the perimeter but it was easy to find a gap and clamber through (of course, we did check carefully for hostile cows).
Stepping inside the main entrance, we were welcomed by a hole in the ceiling where a balustrade once stood before it crumbled away. This is probably the most famous image of Tskaltubo and always crops up on a Google Image search.
We spent over an hour exploring all four floors of the interior, roaming through guest rooms, balconies, dining halls, and bathrooms. We even managed to poke our noses into the attic space. Some of the staircases looked a little precarious but they were solid nonetheless and accessible so it was still easy to creep upstairs and wander the hallways.
Weeds clawed their way through the windows on the ground floors while vines writhed up the walls to the upper levels. Shreds of wallpaper hung from the walls and ceiling, licking the floorboards which in some rooms have rotten away to reveal the lower foundations of the building. We spotted magazines from the early 2000s and graffiti as far back as the 1990s.
Bathhouse No.5
Leaving Sanatorium Iveria, we headed into the Tskaltubo Central Park and towards our first bathhouse of the day, Bathhouse No.5 (exact location). The 9 original bathhouses follow the principles of the sulfur baths that exist in Tbilisi and other cities atop thermal springs and were made up of dipping tubs and treatment rooms.
Consumed by overgrown foliage, Bathhouse No.5 looked as though it was sinking into the core of the earth. It wasn’t hard to find the entrance although had we not known that we were looking for it, we could have easily walked right past the bathhouse. Although there was a sign outside advising against entry due to the age and deterioration of the building, no barriers were in place so it was easy to head inside and stroll around the complex.
As a public bathhouse rather than a sanatorium, Bathhouse No.5 is far smaller than the Iveria site yet there was so much detail to pore over and imagine it in its heyday. Featuring a sequence of smaller rooms with deep yellow bathtubs, this was the closest comparison to the setup of the bathhouses of Tbilisi that I saw in Tskaltubo and I could visualise how the suites might have looked back in the day with Georgians and Russians simmering in the tubs.
Aside from having Mambo No.5 on repeat in my head the whole time, the bathhouse was peaceful and quiet and it reminded me of the experience of visiting the Ta Prohm temple at Angor Wat: another site in the process of being reclaimed by nature (to the joy of the resident mosquitoes). It was just a pity to see how many plastic bottles have been chucked in the bathtubs.
Sanatorium Savane
After exploring Sanatorium Iveria and Bathhouse No.5, we walked back outside the Central Park to visit Sanatorium Savane (exact location). This abandoned hotel is situated over the main road, Rusataveli Street, on the eastern side of the park. It is easily accessible from the main road, with no warning signs or barriers, it is an easy addition to a day of mooching around the abandoned buildings of Tskaltubo.
After seeing Sanatorium Iveria and Bathhouse No.5, Sanatorium Savane was slightly underwhelming. It was worthy of a visit purely to see the exterior and main entrance, however, as the interiors were subject to more destruction there were fewer details to differentiate the rooms. The upper floors weren’t as accessible either, let’s just say I didn’t have as much faith in what remained of the staircases we found.
Sanatorium Savane does feature a handsome entrance which even in its tousled state manages to evoke a sense of what arriving and checking into the building during its heyday would have felt like. Plus, I can imagine that the guest rooms from the upper floors would have had a beautiful view over the Central Park.
As with the Sanatorium Iveria, Sanatorium Savane is a large and imposing property in that classic Soviet-style, with a simple facade and an emphasis on bulk. Guests travelled to Tskaltubo Georgia with a mindset to get down to some serious medical-healing business, rather than pamper themselves on a spa weekend. These buildings were designed to host large volumes of guests whose ailments included the likes of cardiovascular issues, arthritis, and infertility.
Bathhouse No.8
Prize for the weirdest bathhouse in Tskaltubo goes straight to Bathhouse No.8 (exact location) where the architects seemingly took inspiration from a flying saucer. Rumour has it that the Tbilisi Sports Hall was the true model but this one absolutely has a UFO vibe going on.
It would have been easy to miss Bathhouse No.8 altogether had we not had Google Maps to guide us. Although it wasn’t shrouded in bushes like at Bathhouse No.5, the entrance was nondescript and required going down a couple of steps. The sunken bathhouse is a circular shape with a huge skylight cut into the middle of the immense concrete roof which floods the interior space with natural light. The bathhouse comprises rings of shallow baths and some delicate deer murals cut into the walls remain.
Unlike with Bathhouse No.5 and Sanatorium Iveria, I couldn’t quite picture how this one might have looked during its time of use although it was fun to try and imagine it.
Spring 6
Of all the buildings I visited, Spring 6 / ბალნეოსერვისი, 6 წყარო (exact location) is the only one that still operates as a bathhouse and is open to all.
When he wasn’t out reaping terror, strategising over his next genocide, and generally keeping busy doing whatever a dictator does, the Georgian-born Stalin would head to Tskaltubo where he would kick back in his private suite at this specific bathhouse. I think it is possible to pop your head into Uncle Joe’s bathroom and have a snoop around — it’s no longer in use so you can’t actually bathe in this one — although I felt too shy to ask.
We did however pop inside for a nosy around the atrium. I was wrongly under the impression that the modern bathhouse operated in a similar vein to the sulphur bathhouses of Tbilisi. When I asked to see a price list, the staff presented me with a menu spanning everything from rectal cleanses to prostate stimulation to electrotherapy (not something I’d want to pair with a dunk in a mineral bath). Besides these procedures and general doctor consultations, the bathhouse also offers massages and mud baths.
It isn’t necessary to book ahead so if you happen to be roaming around Georgia’s abandoned spa town and fancy a treat, you can just turn up. From my experiences of visiting the bathhouses in Tbilisi, wearing bathing clothes is worthy of a few amiable eye rolls and good-tempered sniggers but you might prefer to have your swimmers with you just in case.
Sanatorium Medea
By the time I walked to my final abandoned building of the day, I felt pretty weary and, ironically, in need of a bath and a good scrub. Sanatorium Medea/ სანატორიუმი “მედეა” turned out to be the most spectacular of all the places so I’m really happy that I didn’t skip it on account of being tired.
Sanatorium Medea is the only building that we visited that is partially resided in by IDPs. I had heard a rumour that this sanatorium was no longer occupied around the front part of the building so we decided to touch base and find out, but agreed that we would leave if it felt inappropriate or intrusive to be there.
We followed the long driveway through the forest gingerly, unsure whether the residents would appreciate tourists wandering around. On arrival, we saw that the residences are only on the left-hand side of the building and that they are tucked away further the back so we decided to just have a quick look at the entrance and not linger.
Sanatorium Medea is the most beautiful building that we visited in Tskaltubo, with its grandiose entrance and forest of columns. Two wide staircases wind their way up to an open terrace that is dotted with slender Corinthian columns supporting a celestial turquoise ceiling that is decaying with elegance.
We followed the remnants of the staircase up to the roof and peeked down at the greenery of the inner courtyard before signing off and heading down the road to find a marshrutka back home.
How to get to Tskaltubo
Tskaltubo is accessible via Kutaisi, Georgia’s second-largest city which is honestly one of the loveliest places in the country. Marshrutka depart from the Red Bridge frequently throughout the day and at the time of writing the 20-minute ride costs 1.50 GEL each way.
On arrival to Tskaltubo, you can hop off at the southern end of the park and begin your walk or alight at the bus station which is located further north in the town centre. I recommend hanging tight until you reach the centre as it is a more logical place to start your sanatorium exploration. We jumped off opposite the Imereti Hotel which is in fact another of the abandoned sanatoriums although we didn’t visit this one on account of it being heavily occupied by IDPs.
For heading back to Kutaisi, you can flag a passing marshrutka as they pass by the southern end of the park. Not all marshrutka travel back to central Kutaisi. The one we took dropped us near the Central Bus Station instead from where we called a Bolt to take us back to the centre which cost 5 GEL. During my visit, public transport within cities was suspended due to the pandemic but under usual circumstances, you can take bus number 1 back to the Colchis fountain area.
What to take to Tskaltubo
Most of the sanatoriums feature uneven flooring and gaping holes and shards of broken glass are not uncommon.
We encountered a few discarded syringes which I suppose had a 50:50 chance of containing drops of insulin or something a little stronger. Unless you’re in the mood to test drive your travel insurance, I recommend wearing close toe shoes and definitely not flip-flops or sandals.
My other tip is to carry bug repellent (essential for Kutaisi or anywhere else in west Georgia if you’re there during the summer months). We didn’t have any and I got devoured by mosquitos at Bathhouse No.5 (clearly I didn’t learn my lesson after Kolkheti National Park).
Once you’re in the park, we struggled to find food as the few cafes were not open – t’was COVID times. We lacked the foresight to take snacks and ended up having a sugar binge for lunch from the market next to the Hotel Argo. Consider taking a packed lunch for the day. There is a surprising lack of bakeries in Tskaltubo.
If you want to have a treatment at Spring No. 6 then you will want to take bathing clothes, a towel, and any other grooming products you might appreciate. Although from my experience in Tbilisi, swimsuits are frowned upon if you simply want to bathe in the sulphur waters. I – an English prude – was admonished by a masseuse for wearing my bikini bottoms during a kisi.
Is Tskaltubo worth visiting?
If you have a soft spot for exploring and photographing dishevelled buildings with wonky floors and few other tourists to share the space with then Tskaltubo is the place for you. It was one of my highlights of places that I’ve visited in Georgia but that’s because I am attracted to abandoned places. Tskaltubo is also a fantastic option for budget-minded travellers looking for free things to do in Kutaisi as there are no fees to pay and it’s easily accessible via public transport from the city.
If you are thinking of visiting the abandoned spa town then factor in a full day of exploring. There is a lot to see and my one regret is that I didn’t return for a second day of exploring.
In terms of rogue cattle? The abandoned buildings of Tskaltubo are in fact one of the few places in Georgia I didn’t bump into any.
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