On a rainy day in May, I lay naked on a flat slab of grey marble in the Caucasus. Olga, a matronly Georgian woman in a white lab coat, slathered heaps of warm mud all over me with a spatula. Like a trusted grandmother with ingrained knowledge about holistic remedies, she explained that the mud would invigorate my skin and leave it feeling softer, healthier. She then wrapped my body in plastic saran wrap and instructed me to relax. I was left alone to absorb the healing effects of a sulfur soak – an ancient treatment dating back to the Roman Empire. Despite the unpleasant smell of sulfur, I eased into a meditative state in my calming cocoon of mud.
Bathhouse 6 is the only operating Soviet-era spa and health sanatorium left in Tskaltubo, Georgia. Past a lavish fountain and massive Corinthian columns, a frieze of Joseph Stalin shaking hands with his countrymen adorns the front façade. The infamous Georgian-born Communist revolutionary welcomes visitors to an environment of rest and recuperation. The interior’s ornamental marble corridors and colorful mosaics summon a bygone era of Soviet-styled opulence meets a sterile medical facility. Legend has it that the grandiose establishment was also home to Stalin’s favorite swimming pool.
During its heyday from the 1950s to 1980s, Tskaltubo was one of the most famous resort towns in all the Caucasus. Located in west-central Georgia, it is a near four hour drive from the capital city Tbilisi. The serene landscape offered rejuvenation away from the daily work grind of Soviet life. Citizens from across the USSR flocked here to bathe and swim in the unique healing properties of the town’s thermal waters. The radon-carbonate mineral springs contain a high level of active calcium and magnesium ions, which makes the water unusually warm with no preliminary heating needed. Taking a dip here is considered beneficial for the treatment of rheumatism, circulatory and cardiovascular ailments, diabetes, asthma, and various skin diseases.
The menu options at Bathhouse 6 include massages, water aerobics classes, and inhalation treatments. If colon hydrotherapy (“deep intestinal massage”) interests you, a consultation with the doctor is recommended first. The most popular treatments are hydro-massages, where you recline in a private rectangular bathtub filled with lukewarm water. A licensed technician uses a hose sending out jets of water with varying pressure over your legs, shoulders, and stomach.
When Olga finally returned, she peeled off the saran wrap and directed me towards the shower, where I rinsed off. I slipped into the cloth robe and slippers she provided and continued onwards to my massage appointment. It was easy to get lost roaming the endless hallways. Every corner turned was a new mystery, and every room another treatment I was curious about. It was the off season but I wondered if the sanatorium was always so conducive to contemplation.
The idea of a sanatorium holiday was encoded as a “right to rest” in the Soviet Union’s 1936 constitution. Courtesy of a voucher system, all Soviet citizens were prescribed two weeks paid vacation. Reconnecting to nature was a way to deliver maximum productivity and a healthier workforce.
Architecturally, Sanatoriums were an integral part of socialism and seen as a display of superiority over superficial Western attitudes towards holidaying. The red-carpets, decorative light fixtures, and brutalist brown waiting-room chairs of Bathhouse 6 demonstrate pride for a unique Soviet philosophy towards rest and leisure. This is a place of purposeful spiritual reflection and self-improvement rather than revelry or idleness.
The collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 shattered the utopian dream of Communism and with it, the sanatorium industry perished. Maintenance costs were too high and most spas were boarded up and abandoned. Tskaltubo was not spared this fate. Out of the 22 sanatoria built since the 1930s, only Bathhouse 6 is still in use today. But many of the palatial buildings are still standing, albeit taken over by nature and in varying states of decay.
Tskaltubo is not a museum experience but an amusement park frozen in time. A stroll through the grounds can be spooky and barren, but also hints at the futuristic, transporting you back in time into the minds of Soviet developers and their hopes for an ideal society. The hollow skeletons of abandoned buildings now house only leafy and evergreen trees inside their crumbling concrete walls. Exposed underground pipes that once carried the mineral spring water to pools reveal a secret network of out-of-this-world patterns resembling hieroglyphics or imprints of spaceships. Like Mayan ruins in Mexico, the meticulously arranged configurations are a point of reflection on how buildings were designed; they harken back to the thought processes of a not so ancient civilization long forgotten. Chipped Grecian marble statues eye you suspiciously as you stumble through long weeds and upon broken-tiled bathtubs overgrown with lush green grass. Each abandoned structure tells a story about the people who lived here, be it Stalin, Soviet workers, or Georgian medical practitioners.
Although the numbers are not nearly as high as the 1970s, visitors continue to trickle in steadily at about 700 people per year. The Tskaltubo Spa Resort Hotel and the Tskaltubo Plaza Hotel are the two main hotels accommodating tourists today. But change is afoot.
Developers are now eying the potential of the sanatorium experience for the international tourist. Tskaltubo is on their radar. The growth of wellness tourism worldwide, and Tskaltubo’s proximity to national parks and medieval villages in west Georgia, offers multiple investment opportunities. The consulting company Kohl & Partner plans to construct nine new hotels, an amusement park, renovate medical centers, and develop a river transport system. Vichy, a French company with thirteen spa resorts worldwide, is also rumored to be involved.
Outside the main park, where all the spas and hotels are located, Georgians live in Soviet style residential apartment blocks. There are not many entertainment choices for the tourist, but a 20 minute drive to Kutaisi offers robust nightlife with live music, traditional Georgian cuisine and other European fare. There are also numerous historical and unique sightseeing options in Kutaisi, including the Orthodox Bagrati Cathedral, the scenic medieval Gelati Monastery, and the petrified waterfalls of Prometheus Caves.
Although the development of the sanatorium experience may be positive for Georgia’s economy, which is largely dependent on tourism, some of Tskaltubo’s history might get erased. Georgian culture is still haunted by its Soviet past and the sanatorium experience offers a genuine glimpse into greater Georgia that can’t be found anywhere else in the country. The time to visit is now.
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