Once a luxurious spa resort and a personal favourite of Joseph Stalin, the town of Tskaltubo in western Georgia is now attracting renewed attention from tourists, both wanted and unwanted, who come to explore the ruins of a once-grand town whose twenty-plus sanatoriums were built with tsarist opulence. Today, these palace-like structures are crumbling and partially occupied by families displaced by the Abkhazia war of 1992–93, a conflict that received little sustained attention in the West, overshadowed by larger crises and the euphoria that followed the end of the Cold War.
More than thirty years have passed since the Metallurgist sanatorium last welcomed a steelworker and his family for the rare privilege of a fully paid week in its grand halls. Securing a putyovka – a trade union ‘ticket’ – for this palace-like sanatorium was considered an extraordinary stroke of luck. One can easily imagine the joy of walking through the grand entrance and being shown to rooms that felt closer to imperial chambers than workers’ quarters, lit by a majestic chandelier in the foyer. Days were spent in marble-lined baths and treatment rooms, and evenings ended with films or theatre shows. The walls of the Metallurgist still seem to echo with the laughter and songs of visitors from another century.
Today, the frescoes have faded and been replaced by layers of political posters from elections, which promised solutions for the town’s new inhabitants, the Abkhazian refugees who arrived in 1992–93. The degree of success of these promises remains unclear.
A quick historical overlook
Already renowned as a spa destination in the 19th century, the modern balneological resort of Tskaltubo was established in the 1920s atop marshy lowlands and radon-rich springs. At its peak, the town had twenty-two sanatoriums and nine springs whose radon-carbonate waters were believed to have miraculous healing powers. These waters became known as ‘living water’. A small museum still displays the abandoned crutches and canes left behind by visitors who were said to have been cured by the baths. Stalin himself bathed here. Buildings were designed to promote wellness with monumental bathhouses, domed halls and vast pools.
Each Soviet ministry or trade union built its own grandiose sanatorium: Metallurg for metallurgists, Shakhtyor for miners, Tsentrosoyuz for cooperatives and Geolog for geologists. Resembling neo-classical palaces, these imposing structures boasted gigantic windows, ornate mosaics and sweeping staircases. Tskaltubo also welcomed military officers, political elites and artists, many of whom arrived on the daily direct train from Moscow.
With the collapse of the Soviet Union, the taps of State funding shut off, visitors vanished, the railway closed, and the sanatoriums were abandoned.
At the same time, Georgia descended into war in Abkhazia, which was seeking independence from the newly independent Georgian state. More than 260,000 Georgians fled the region, many with little more than a suitcase and nowhere to go. With dozens of enormous buildings suddenly standing empty, the government housed displaced families in Tskaltubo’s abandoned sanatoriums and hotels. What had been designed for wellness tourism became a temporary shelter – a status that, for many, became permanent, and for the next decades, the buildings were left to decay.
Ghost sanatoriums & ‘ruin tourism’
Walk into the Metallurgist or Savane sanatorium today, and you may find that the lobby has been swept clean and that there is a souvenir table beside a marble wall. You may also notice wires tacked along the corridors, which were added to bring electricity to improvised rooms. Some residents have created a hybrid of home, museum and informal marketplace within their buildings. Others live in structures so unstable that entire floors are unsafe. Clothes dry on railings that were once used to hang bathrobes. Children play in courtyards framed by crumbling columns. The legality of this occupation is ambiguous: some families were placed there by the state in the early 1990s, while others arrived informally. Several buildings have changed ownership, yet the residents remain.
Amidst abandoned toys, leftover posters from the time of the pandemic and fading campaign flyers, a new human landscape has emerged from the ruins of Tskaltubo’s grand past – and it has turned the town into a popular destination for ruin tourism.
Vloggers and journalists now arrive regularly, each capturing the buildings through their own artistic lens. For some, the highlight is Stalin’s bathhouse or his ballroom in the Gornika sanatorium. Some buildings permit entry, while others are barricaded behind high walls – it is unclear whether these are intended to keep tourists or the many stray dogs out. These dogs are unexpectedly friendly and often accompany visitors for hours in exchange for a small snack.
@lizvanbird We explored Tskaltubo, Georgia's abandoned Soviet spa town, with a furry friend as our guide. ✨🐶 Once the most popular spa towns of Georgia, Tskaltubo's bathhouses and sanatoriums were abandoned and stripped of anything valuable after the Soviet Union collapse in the 90s. We found it a very interesting visit, seeing how nature reclaims its territory after people leave. Inside one of the buildings, we met a family who had restored vital amenities and made it their home. They showed us around in their building and were very friendly, as was our friend Boris the dog. Don’t wait too long to visit if this also sounds interesting to you, since the sanatoriums are coming in hands of private investors. Several buildings are already no longer accessible as construction is on the way. #fyp #foryoupage #tskaltubo #georgia ♬ With A Smile – Maiah Manser
Cori Ander, a vlogger, filmed herself being followed by a pack of stray dogs as she explored the ruins, the dogs trailing her like personal bodyguards. In the video, she can be seen moving through a mosaic playground, a collapsed theatre hall and empty rooms where clothes, beds and personal belongings have been left behind. There is an emotional moment when she finds a stack of abandoned black-and-white photos of families who were probably refugees, whose lives have been disrupted and will never be fully recaptured.
Key sites include Bathhouse No. 8, Sanatorium Tbilisi, Geolog, Metallurgist, Medea, Gornika, Iveria, and the Brutalist Hotel Aia, which features Soviet mosaics depicting grape harvests and wine production.
Most sanatoriums are fenced off, and Stalin’s bathhouse is decrepit but guarded. Nature has taken over many of the buildings’ interiors, with pine trees growing through the floors and vegetation filling former ballrooms.
Back to the Future?
Despite appearances, progress has begun. Although many projects remain stalled, renovations are underway, and investors continue to show interest.
Back in 2012, when the buildings were literally falling apart, President Mikheil Saakashvili promised to transform Tskaltubo into ‘the best place in Europe’ within four years. Since then, the town has received millions of dollars in funding from the World Bank for public infrastructure, lighting and tourism development.
A 2016 World Bank article described the Imereti region as undergoing a transformation as part of the Second Regional Development Project. However, very few of Tskaltubo’s historic buildings have been fully restored. Most remain in limbo – too valuable to demolish, too damaged to renovate quickly, and too inhabited to clear out.
Some sanatoriums have been sold privately, while others, such as the Tbilisi building, remain officially closed. Half the town feels abandoned, while the other half is still lived in. The difference today is that, after spending the day exploring the ruins, visitors can end it in one of the few restored or newly built spas.
Caught between its tsar-like ruins, its inhabited skeletons, and its tentative future, Tskaltubo is caught between two worlds: a Soviet spa utopia and a dystopian landscape of ruin tourism. It is waiting for its next chapter.
