Spa Resort, Tskaltubo, Georgia

Posted on 10/08/2024 by Michael

Spa Resort, Tskaltubo – 06

Spa Resort, Tskaltubo, Georgia

Tskaltubo’s a strange place. The village itself is, to say the least, nondescript and if it had any purpose at all in the past it was to serve the resort hotels and spa complexes which were built on top of the hot springs and the (foul-smelling) curative mud.

All the hotels and spas are either close to or inside a huge park that is (very roughly) 2 kilometres long and about 500 metres wide (at it’s greatest) with a north-south orientation. When this place was at its busiest there must have been thousands of people here and would have resembled the holiday resorts on the Costas in Spain. Walking around the, now mostly abandoned, hotels you come across corridors going off corridors with rooms on either side. Although all of them have large restaurants they would have been unable to cope with all the residents at the same time so there must have been a very strict and organised rota at meal times.

In a previous post, Tskaltubo’s abandoned Spas, Springs and Sanatoria, I attempted to give the background of this area and a feeling of the abandoned faculties which would have had many happy memories, I’m sure, for thousands of Soviet citizens.

Information is somewhat contradictory but what is almost certain is that the heyday of the area would have been from the 1960s to the end of the 1980s – and I imagine the crash would have been as sudden as the collapse of the Soviet Union at the end of 1991. The whole infrastructure which would have moved so many people back and forth from the Soviet Union to Georgia would have fallen apart; the people had too much of an uncertain future to consider going on holiday; money quickly became scarce; and Georgian nationalists would not have been that welcoming when they saw the weakness of the once powerful Socialist entity.

Spa Resort, Tskaltubo – 01

But if citizens from the rest of the Soviet Union lost a favoured holiday destination the Georgians didn’t benefit. Many of them would have lost their jobs overnight. And this wouldn’t have been just those who worked directly in contact with the visitors in the hotels and the spa complexes. A whole host of ancillary jobs would have gone as well in the greater Kutaisi area.

For example, there used to be a railway station (close to which is now the Tourist Information Office) and at the bottom of the park, on the exit road leading to Kutaisi, there was a not insignificant hospital. The latter would have served not only the visitors (with so many statistically there would have been a number of accidents and emergencies) but those locals who worked in the resort, many of whom I imagine lived in the apartment blocks and houses to the east of the main road to Kutaisi.

Recently there’s been renovation of some of the spas (especially Spring No. 6, which houses Stalin’s ‘private bath house’) but many of the accommodation blocks have been (partly) taken over by refugees from Abkhazia, who are living in disgusting slums. Although I’m sure that few in the Georgian government care about these refugees they will probably be ‘safe’ in their squatter status as there’s no way that the area will ever return to it’s illustrious past and there will never be enough money to return all the resort hotels to their former glory.

Spa Resort, Tskaltubo – 02

However, there has been major investment to restore (at least in part) probably one of the biggest hotels, if not in the number of bedrooms at least with its surrounding grounds. This is now called the Legends Spa Resort and is located to the east of the park, half way from the entrance to the resort area on the way to the village of Tskaltubo.

At the height of its popularity this must have been one of the most impressive complexes in the area. The three accommodation buildings of the complex are set along its own private road, quite high above the public road that passes on the way to the village of Tskaltubo, and is reached via two portico entrances from which wide steps lead up to a viewpoint. The trees here are now very much established but forty or so years ago, from these vantage points, the visitors would have been able to look across to the park and a walk from the hotel to the park, or even the spas, would have been a common activity for the visitors.

Although in its prime there would have been on site spa/health facilities these have still yet to be completed (if ever) and those present day visitors on an accommodation and health package get bussed to one of the restored spas in the area of the park, a few minutes away.

Of the three buildings only one has had any substantial work carried out to bring it up to present day standards (and expectations) to open as a hotel – and that only partially – and is the only building currently in use. This is the northern most of the three which has an interesting Socialist Realist bas relief frieze above the front door. I’ve read various articles suggesting that the renovation of the rest of this building is some time in the distant future.

One of the other two buildings (the one with statues above the main entrance) appears to have had some work carried out in the relatively recent past, although it definitely looked like a budget option – but this looks as if it hasn’t been used for some time. The third looked as if it had not been touched at all since the last Soviet visitor left and although not in the best of condition – and difficult to see clearly due to the sprawling vegetation – it also has a Socialist Realist frieze on the façade.

Spa Resort, Tskaltubo – 05

Only very few people were staying there when I visited at the very beginning of June 2024 but I got the impression that large groups would arrive from time to time so perhaps my stay wasn’t indicative of the occupation levels – and anyway it was still relatively early in the summer season.

Having walked around derelict and completely uninhabitable (although some people are forced to live there as they have nowhere else) ex-hotel buildings in other parts of Tskaltubo it was interesting to see what these places were like when they were such a popular destination for Soviet workers. But, as stated above, not all of this particular hotel has been fully restored – so dereliction was only just (literally) around the corner. Go up one staircase and everything is what you would expect in such a hotel but go up another and you see what a lot of work is needed to bring the whole building up to scratch.

A picture paints a thousand words so it is hoped that the slide show will provide a better idea of the whole of the complex. Here I just want to point out a few aspects which stuck out in my mind as I explored all the (sometimes) dark and dusty corridors. For someone who wants to get an idea of the place the fact that there was no restriction on where you could go was quite refreshing, so-called ‘health and safety’ – often used as an excuse to prohibit access – gone mad certainly in the UK (if not other countries in Western Europe).

Spa Resort, Tskaltubo – 04

In no particular order;

the many rooms which had been renovated but not kept immediately ready for guests but would be sorted very rapidly if a big group was to book in;
the stacks of old spa baths, very dated in their design, which had been taken out of the hotel’s own spa area but the new baths had not yet (in the summer of 2024) been fully plumbed in and the work to do so seemingly frozen for whatever reason;
the covered walkway, with metal-framed windows on either side, now (and probably originally) lines with potted plants that joined the accommodation area with the dining and entertainment area of the complex;
the large circular dining room which wasn’t in use when I was there but looking as if it wouldn’t take too much to get it ready;
the circular cinema/theatre which downstairs looked as if it could be ready for a performance at any time but in the balcony the chairs were dirty and many of them broken or missing with the walls flaking;
the light fittings that were very reminiscent of the Moscow Metro. Whereas western metros and underground systems are industrial spaces that of the Soviet transport system was ‘domestic’, there being light fittings that you would find in other public buildings in the country, which included chandeliers, all which provides a softer lighting as opposed to the harsh, functional fluorescent strips which are the norm in the west;
the cinema projection room which still houses two, late 20th century 35mm projectors, one of which still had a reel of film in place. Although not very tidy and with a few things having been taken for use elsewhere you could still imagine (with a fair stretch of the imagination) that a film could be shown tonight;

Spa Resort, Tskaltubo – 03

the ‘museum’ – which is really only a higgledy-piggledy collection of items which no one could find a present day use for but didn’t want to throw them in the skip. This includes a bust of Karl Marx and one of VI Lenin, as well as some old health awareness posters and a 1980s ‘sound system’ amongst other nick-knacks. This all in what was a small café/bar in the latter days of the Soviet resort;

Spa Resort, Tskaltubo – 07

a frieze depicting industrial workers and those in working in the countryside, as well as ‘intellectuals’ necessary for the construction of Socialism – the workers of hand and brain. The frieze above the entrance of the first building – that which is in constant use – in a very good, and restored, condition. The one over building three – the building that doesn’t seemed to have received any renovation of any kind since the building was closed – needing a bit of loving care but still in a good enough condition that you can make out the story;
remnants of the 1980s in terms of furniture, curtains, pianos, light fittings, etc. All the renovation seems to have attempted to recreate the ambiance of the past where possible;
‘Stalin’s suite’ – which is located on the first floor of the third (the least ‘luxurious’) building. As stated above there doesn’t seem to have been any work carried out in this building and for that reason is the most derelict. That is, apart from a small area on the first floor on the west side of the building. This is a small suite comprising of; a sitting room; a bedroom; a small office and a bathroom. Obviously Uncle Joe wasn’t into cooking as there are no facilities for such. This is said to have been Stalin’s residence of choice. Now whether this is true or not I cannot say. I’ve also read about a villa on the other side of the park that Stalin was supposed to have used when visiting Tskaltubo. But if we assume that it is true then what this demonstrates is how humble and undemanding a personage Comrade Stalin was. NO capitalist leader at the same time that he was the leader of the Soviet Union would have stayed in such humble circumstances – even less so now. And as with his ‘private bath house’ in Spring No. 6 it just goes to show what an unassuming man he was – a true leader of the working class.

Spa Resort, Tskaltubo – 08

Another thought I had when walking around this complex just reinforced what I was thinking when I first visited Tskaltubo. Yes, many of the buildings, both the hotels and hot springs/spas are ruins but that was due to neglect and not mindless vandalism. In various parts of this complex you get the impression that one day everyone just up and left – some being careless and not shutting the doors or windows. Come the winter or the rainy season the elements stared to make an impact and some of the wooden parquet floors were damaged. As there was no regular maintenance being carried out that meant that, over time, water started to get in through breaks in gutters or leaks in roofs thereby causing damage to ceilings and walls and wooden window frames started to rot. Lack of regular maintenance also meant that the exterior stonework started to stain and crumble.

Although there must have been some element of looting it wasn’t complete and although it might have caused long lasting damage in some circumstances it certainly wasn’t general. This was very different from what happened when things fell apart in Albania. In that country there was wholesale destruction and whereas, at least, some of the buildings in Tskaltubo could be brought back into use you can say that about remarkably few in Albania.

Whether by commission or omission I still feel that the people’s of the once Socialist Republics ended up throwing out the baby with the bath water.

Location;

Rustaveli St 23, Tskaltubo

GPS;

42.321194º N

42.604205º E

Website;

Legends Tskaltubo Spa Resort

More on the Republic of Georgia

Tskaltubo’s abandoned Spas, Springs and Sanatoria

Posted on 18/02/2020 by Michael

Imereti

More on the Republic of Georgia

Tskaltubo’s abandoned Spas, Springs and Sanatoria

Introduction

For reasons that can only be guessed at you can’t look at a British newspaper, go to the BBC website or by looking for information about the Georgian town of Tskaltubo without coming cross articles, pictures or videos about the ruined health spa buildings (which were hugely popular in Soviet times and even after the so-called ‘collapse of Communism’) in the town.

It’s not that these buildings have been in the condition they are found today for a short period of time. They fell into disrepair when relations turned sour between Georgia and Russia over the provinces of South Ossetia and Abkhazia which led to open warfare in August 2008. The fighting war only lasted 5 days but the consequences have been around for much longer.

One of those consequences which has had a direct impact on the town of Tskaltubo was the use of the former spa resorts and hotels as homes for some of the thousands of refugees.

I don’t know exactly in what state these buildings, some of them huge and which had been the holiday home for hundreds in their heyday, were in the summer of 2008 but a refugee crisis that could have been handled with some sort of compassion seems to have been left totally to individual initiative and lacking any semblance of organisation.

By that I mean to imply that those who arrived first took what was useful to themselves and there was no communal approach to make the fullest – and most efficient – use of the structures of the former hotels.

Under the ideology of the Soviet Union (when it could still have been considered a Socialist state) the emphasis in such establishments would have been placed on the communal areas. This would have meant that the lower floors (including basements) would have been devoted to dining and concert rooms, general meeting areas and facilities for leisure activities (such as cinemas and theatres) and extensive kitchens to cater for so many people in a relatively short space of time.

It would have been on the upper floors where the bedrooms would have been found – but they were likely not all to have had en suite facilities (this was an invention even the likes of Britain took some time to adopt) and certainly no means of cooking.

Yet these were the spaces the refugees rushed to and which they then adapted to cater for the individualistic lifestyle they were attempting to establish. No doubt, in the process, any useful materials would have been looted from the communal areas below making them virtually useless at any time in the immediate future.

By all accounts there were many more refugees from the conflict in Tskaltubo than there are now but I visited at least seven of the old resort sanatoria which still had a substantial population in the autumn of 2019.

What dismayed me (but which the cretinous film crews and semi-professional photographers that have been swarming all over the place in recent times) was the very degradation and filth that characterises the communal areas. Some of this decay can be witnessed in the slide show a the end of this post. There could have been many more examples but I started to become both angry and depressed at recording such wanton vandalism and thoughtlessness that had made the living conditions of so many people so much worse.

I had the ‘opportunity’ of only visiting one person’s home – that of an old Abkhazian woman who tried to sell over-priced booze and cakes to any foreigner, like myself, who pointed a camera in the direction of the buildings. She was in the sanatorium I have called ‘It’s my business’ as I haven’t been able to discover its proper name and that was the phrase she used all the time during the few minutes I was in her ‘home’. I was given to believe that there are women like her in some of the other refugee occupied hotels.

It was truly sad to see how the fine entrance halls, staircases, dining and concert rooms – with decorated and vaulted ceilings – and the general communal areas had been allowed to arrive at such a state of filth and decay. Nothing that was considered communal was of consideration at all. This also meant there was no lighting in the entrances and stair wells meaning torches were a necessity once it got dark. Such a situation would do nothing in creating a feeling of safety and security

Wooden parquet flooring had been torn up, presumably to be burnt for cooking and/or heating. Anything of use on these lower floors – such as floorboards – had also been torn up leaving the surface below to degrade and in the process creating holes into the cellar. And the general lack of concern for an area that was ‘not their’s’ meant rubbish started to accumulate – and here I not just talking about historic rubbish but contemporary plastic drinks bottles. I suppose once the collective decision to live in shit has been accepted any more shit is neither here or there.

Broken water pipes and dangerous electrical wiring was everywhere and added to the build up of inflammable rubbish creating a haven for disease and vermin as well as storing up problems for the future.

The refugees from the 2008 war could have lived in relative luxury. They chose not to but to live in dirt and degradation.

But the Western European pricks with their expensive cameras and drones to provide an overall view of these once magnificent buildings don’t see anything other than an opportunity to demonstrate their cultural superiority.

But there’s also a political aspect of this highlighting of these sad ruins. Such a situation is always described with reference to the Soviet past implying that it was the Socialist system that was in some way responsible for the consequences of the present.

It is conveniently forgotten that even the Revisionist Soviet Union ceased to exist 30 years ago (and it hadn’t been a socialist country for more than 40 years before that), that in the years since the so-called ‘fall of Communism’ the ‘superior’ economic system of capitalism has singularly failed (as it could but not do) to resolve the ‘problems’ that existed under Socialism.

Even though the present Russian leadership and all its robbing hangers-on would have ended their days in a Siberian gulag at the time of Socialism they are considered to be tainted with the ‘evil’ of Communism. Any attack on Russia (as indeed is any attack on the now capitalist China – witness the way matters are being twisted over the management of the present (2020) coronavirus crisis when if it had broken out in the capitalist west free market economic forces would have prevented any effective measures to contain the outbreak – can anyone believe that any British government would put London in lock down?) has nothing to do with what policies they are pursuing at the present time but a propaganda effort to make sure that they get punished for being the first country that had the effrontery to challenge the capitalist system and establish a workers and peasants socialist republic.

And the targets for this denigration of any idea of establishing revolutionary socialism are the very people whose only long term guarantee of freedom from exploitation and oppression is the making of such a revolution – that is the workers and peasants of the world.

At the same time it has to be recognised that there are some very strange examples of how those people who had been brought up in a socialist system react to the environment around them when those systems (for various reasons) have collapsed.

Present day Albania is a prime example where the people seemed to have accepted the destruction of the very economic basis of their country for nothing in return. There’s a definable correlation between the vast migration of Albanians from their country to elsewhere in the world to the existence of an almost limitless number of abandoned and looted factories in the country. Added to that the division of the land into small plots virtually killed off a national agriculture.

But it isn’t just in the post-Communist countries that we see people destroying the vestiges of a past social system and reverting to a more basic economy. When the Roman Empire retreated from Britain in the 4th century the remaining Britons were incapable of taking any lessons from the invaders and reverted to a life style similar to what they had followed more than 400 years before. Lessons in hygiene and sanitation which the Romans had developed (of course only for a few) were forgotten and diseases related to such poor or non-existent sanitation were to kill millions in the subsequent centuries – cholera doing its worse well into the 19th century in Europe.

A look at some of the buildings, both those being now used as refugee accommodation and those that were visiting Soviet workers would visit to take ‘advantage’ of the curing radon infused waters and mud.

Sanatorium Aia

Aia

This is one of the newer buildings that make up the whole complex of Tskaltubo, i.e., constructed in the 1960s or 70s when demand for places at the spa town continued to rise.

As is the case in all the buildings the gardens and approaches immediately surrounding Aia hasn’t been cared for in years. The ground floor which housed the communal areas and dining rooms had been stripped of anything decorative and all you are left with is the bare concrete floors. Where it was coming from I don’t know but there was a lot of standing water. This water would have come from inside the building suggesting that the pipes (fresh water or sewage) are not in the condition they should be. I would also have thought a breeding ground for mosquitoes in the summer.

Aia also demonstrates something which is common in all the buildings, some of the finest dating back to the 1940s (or earlier), and that is the efforts to grab more living and storage space from the limited amount available. Many of the balconies had been blocked in with various scraps of wood or metal thus grabbing a few more square metres for the inhabitants.

Aia is basically a shanty town in the air.

Another common addition was the satellite dishes. I haven’t seen a great deal of Georgian television but I would be surprised if they are served up anything more edifying than the mind-numbing generic productions that dominate most country’s TV output.

As I was walking around this building the woman who directed me to the decoration in the old dining room also suggested that I go to the first floor where there was a woman who would sell the chacha and cake. Each building, it seems, has one.

The Tile Mosaics

Aia – Grape Harvest

I don’t know why but I was expecting more internal decoration in the hotels than was the reality. Previous to my visit to Aia I seen the facade of Spring No. 6 – which has the bas relief depicting a visit of Joseph Stalin to the town. Many of the older buildings do have the lavish use of marble, parquet flooring, chandeliers and a general feeling of opulence but there was no real presence of the Socialist Realist art that I was expecting. Apart from at Aia – where there are two examples.

The first is in the area that would have been the dining room where one wall is covered with colourful tiles depicting the whole of the wine growing process. In the centre, and by far the largest characters, are two young Georgian woman reminiscent of the statue of Mother Georgia in the hills above Tbilisi. There is some damage, some of it which looks deliberate, but considering the circumstances in which the mosaic has to cope it is in a surprisingly good shape. There’s no protection from the elements, the damp conditions can’t help and it can get cold in Tskaltubo in the winter.

There’s another tile mosaic high up on the wall that would have looked down on the hotel’s garden. This depicts musicians and dancers in traditional Georgia dress. Unfortunately, this has not fared as well as the one in the dining room, many tiles have fallen away and it also shows signs of serious staining and water damage.

Sanatorium Imereti

Imereti

This was one of the grand creations of the early days of Tskaltubo as a spa resort. Built slightly up the hill from the main park which was the location of the bath houses Imereti is a neo-classical structure – not the utilitarian of the later Aia.

To approach the main entrance the visitor had to go up a sweeping, double set of steps to arrive at an imposing facade. Once in the building the entrance hall has marble classical columns which direct the visitor to a wide and high staircase that would lead to the bedroom floors.

At one end there is a rotunda that housed a concert room with a vaulted ceiling and an internal circle of narrow columns, breaking up the space.

It would have been an impressive sight to a visiting Soviet worker. Now it’s a ruin in which no one should live – not even the cow that was feeding when I visited.

At the back of the building was a square where visitors would have congregated on warm summer evenings but now some of the space has been used as small vegetable gardens and the communal clothes washing area.

Sanatorium ‘It’s my business’

‘It’s my business’ Spa Hotel

Try as I might I haven’t (yet) discovered the true name of this building – hence the nickname based on the phrase used by the Abkhazian woman I met on my visit.

This is another of the really large and impressive early buildings. (Although I haven’t seen any dates for the construction of all the spa buildings a large commemorative urn that sits on a table in the main entrance to Spring No. 6 has pictures of many of the spas in Tskaltubo in full operation. The urn is dated 1961. The later Revisionist leaders of the Soviet Union went for utilitarianism rather than style.)

This takes its influence from early Italianate buildings, with large blocks of stone being used at the lower level and the square column topped towers that rise up on either side of the main entrance.

Apart from the ‘standard’ large communal rooms there are internal patios (with now derelict fountains) at the back together with roof gardens. Now all filthy with mould and overgrown with weeds.

It’s a long time since the lift in the main entrance was used and various side rooms are being used as plastic rubbish bins.

One interesting external decoration is the bas relief (I assume metal) high up on the east wall of the building, looking down on the terracotta mosaic of telephone workers.

Sanatorium Medea

Medea Sanatorium

This is one of the most impressive of the sanatorium which takes its architectural influence from the classical period. In a sense the area of the main entrance is purely decorative and serves little function. It’s more the impression the visitor got (and still gets – even though now in disrepair) when approaching the building.

The stone clad circular entrance has an external stair on either side which leads to a first floor colonnaded area. This is open on all sides and serves, really, no practical purpose. From here there is access to the main building but everything appears somewhat mundane after the initial reaction provided by the approach from the road. If this area does have any practical use it’s as a viewing platform of the area of the park and the hills around Tskaltubo.

As in some of the other hotels there are also patios and roof areas where visitors in the past would have enjoyed the summer warmth.

The not so interesting accommodation which is off to the left of the main decorative entrance is yet another that is being occupied by refugees. I can only imagine that the conditions on the lower floors are the same as in the places already mentioned. After a while it gets draining and depressing going into the different buildings to witness the same level of decay. It becomes even more depressing when you know that these are peoples’ homes and that some have been there for years and it seems an intrusion to constantly make a record of the squalor which surrounds them.

(I perhaps haven’t mentioned that there are a number of the old hotels which are completely empty of any refugees – or any other occupants with problems in finding a proper home – which are like blots on the landscape of the town. There is supposed to be an intention to develop some of these buildings but some are so huge and the clientele numbers will never reach anything like what was achieved during Soviet times that so many of these plans will remain pipe dreams.)

In front of Medea’s accommodation block there’s a small, circular fountain which is surprisingly deep considering there would have been many children in the area. Obviously this fountain is nothing more than a dirty, waterless hole now and the statues (of a young girl on an ‘island’ in the centre and four young, naked boys kneeling on the rim) are in reasonable, if not perfect, condition.

Sanatorium North-west

North-west Sanatorium

This is another building whose true name I have been unable to discover. It sits just outside the main park, in the north-west, beside the road that goes around the park. This one was, in fact, the first one I visited and it didn’t look that bad from a short distance, much of the building being shielded by the mature pine trees that separate the building from the road.

Once close up the same signs of decay mentioned before emerge. Like many of these hotels the entrances are impressive this one having a stone balustraded stairway on both sides of a small (now totally ruined) fountain, reached by a few flights of steps from the road.

The two storied building to the right of the entrance would have been the communal area and is a total ruin, to the extent that all the windows have been removed. On top there’s an open yet covered roof patio, again providing an outside area to enjoy the warmth of the sun.

Where there are people living they have followed the same practices as already mentioned. All of these buildings are architecturally unique but they have been reduced to the lowest common denominator by the addition of the makeshift additions and adaptations as well as the ubiquitous satellite dishes.

Sanatorium Iveria

This is the sanatorium which is located furthest from the main park and the area of the baths but in many ways is one of the most attractive. There are not that many pictures of this building in the slide show as after I had squeezed my way through the corrugated sheets supposedly preventing access I didn’t have much enthusiasm to explore more.

I assume that this building would have been used to house refugees in the past but there is no one living there now. Added to that all the doors and windows have been removed so this might have been a tactic used by the local/national authorities to prevent the re-colonisation of these buildings when the previous inhabitants had either been rehoused somewhere more appropriate of had found an alternative themselves.

Unique in its design it has hexagonal stairwells at various points along the facade which are surmounted by small columned, hexagonal towers. The main entrance door is very distinctive in that it is under a very tall columned loggia, which extends two floors in height.

The ground floor entrance and the beginning of the main staircase is also in a better condition than many, much of the blue paint of the walls remaining as well as the plaster work on the ceiling being in a good condition. Probably why it has appeared in most articles about these sad buildings.

Spas, Springs and Baths

As well as the hotels a number of the spas, that are predominantly located in the central park, have also fallen into disrepair. These are in a different category to the hotels and resorts that were used to house refugees after the Russian-Georgian conflict. Tensions between the two countries increased, the spas and bath-houses that were built to cater to thousands were receiving fewer and fewer visits and after the war there was no where for them to stay.

Present day visitors can still take the water (and mud) treatments in Springs No. 1, No 3 and No 6. Numbers 1 and 3 are relatively modest buildings where Spring No. 6 is a much larger and grander structure. It is also the Spa that contains the extremely luxurious spa that Stalin used on his visits to the town.

Spring No. 4

There’s not a great deal that can be said about Spring No 4. It’s a one level, square building, probably built in the 1950s but today (of all the buildings from the glory days of the Soviet Union) it is the most difficult to enter and it is protected by substantial locked gates. Whether it is hiding some particular gem I have yet to discover. It can be found at the northern end of the park, close to the Palace of Sport.

Spring No. 5

Spring No. 5 is a little bit more decorative that No. 4 – probably indicating it was built some years earlier.

As I type this I start to think that probably the change in the architectural styles indicate the the simpler, concrete structures, of both the hotels and the spas, were part of Khrushchev’s attack on the Socialist developments that were achieved under the leadership of Joseph Stalin. The magnificent Metro stations that were in major cities such as Moscow and Leningrad also started to become more mundane and ‘normal’. This change in approach started very soon after the 20th Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (of 1956) where Khrushchev – in a secret speech – denounced the great Marxist-Leninist leader of the party and implicitly all that had been achieved in the years since 1917.

The words Khrushchev and culture didn’t, and still don’t, really belong in the same sentence. He had no concept that what was produced for the workers and peasants should have been as good, well constructed and attractive as – or even better – than that produced for the wealthy. But he was a mere manager and started the thinking in the Soviet Union that was to soon lead it to revert to being a bastion of capitalism – even when under the name of the Union of Socialist Soviet Republics.

It’s the largest of the abandoned springs and is second only to number 6 in size. The impressive loggia over the front, principle entrance is its main attraction but the large, individual tile faced baths which shoot off from the main corridor indicate it was a centre for water treatment.

Spring No. 8

Spring No. 8 is another interesting construction. Probably from the late 1950s it’s a low, one level, circular building which doesn’t seem to have a special entrance. In the middle of the concrete ceiling there would have been a large glass dome (long gone), both bringing in natural light and the heat when the sun was shining.

The very layout and decoration of this building indicates to me that it was designed for children. They could play in the warm waters, supervised, whilst their parents might have been having treatment for whatever their medical ailment might have been.

Tskaltubo’s Springs and Sanatoria

Click on image to download a much larger pdf version

Key to Map

1 Sanatorium Iveria
2 Sanatorium Shakhtar
3 Sanatorium Imereti
4 Sanatorium ‘It’s my business’
5 Sanatorium Metallurgist
6 Sanatorium North- west
7 Spring No. 4
8 Spring No. 5
9 Sanatorium Savane
10 Spring No. 8
11 Sanatorium Medea
12 Sanatorium Aia
13 Sanatorium Sakartvelo

A Spring No. 6 (and Stalin’s ‘private spa’)

More on the Republic of Georgia

Telephone exchange mural – Tskaltubo

Posted on 11/01/2020 by Michael

Telephone exchange mural – Tskaltubo

More on the Republic of Georgia

Telephone exchange mural – Tskaltubo

The terracotta mural portraying a group of telecommunications workers is an interesting, and in some aspects quite charming, piece of public art which is probably missed by the vast majority of visitors to the once immensely popular, and populous, spa town of Tskaltubo, not far from the city of Kutaisi in western Georgia.

Socialist Realist?

I am presenting it here for its curiosity value alone and do not plan to look too deeply into what is depicted as I don’t consider it fits into the definition I’ve been following of Socialist Realist art.

Just because a piece of art is produced and put on show in a country that calls itself ‘socialist’ doesn’t then – automatically – mean that it is a ‘Socialist Realist’ work of art. Realist yes, even social realist, but not Socialist Realist.

This mural, showing workers doing their job, is radically different from the mural that sits above the main entrance to Spring No. 6 – which is only a few minutes walk away.

That mural, which represents a visit of Joseph Stalin to the town in the early 1950s, had a very specific rationale. It was produced to demonstrate a unity between the people in one of the Republics on the edge of the vast USSR with the leadership in the capital of Moscow.

On the other hand the mural on the wall of the telephone exchange is mere decoration. Charming though it may be.

The terracotta mural is of a much later date (although the exact one I don’t know – but would guess 1970s at the earliest). And that’s important. Three years after the death of Stalin in 1953 the then leader of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, Nikita Khrushchev, not only denounced Joseph Stalin as an individual he basically attacked all the gains and victories that had been achieved since the October Revolution of 1917. He didn’t say that (after all he was a traitor to Marxism-Leninism and had to hide his revisionism from the assembled delegates at the 20th Party Congress) but all that happened during his time at the head of the Party and country, as with subsequent ‘leaders’ until 1990, was to turn back the construction of Socialism and allow the re-establishment of capitalism in the world’s first ‘Communist State’.

So those works of art produced from the mid-1950s onwards weren’t produced to aid the development of Socialism but to reflect the capitalist road on which the Soviet Union was now following. I will accept that there might have been works of art that challenged the change of direction but they still couldn’t be considered Socialist Realist as the economic base of the country was no longer socialist.

The Mural

Although the main body of the mural – which stretches the width of the shortest wall of the large rectangular telephone exchange – depicts men (and they are all men) in the task of erecting telegraph poles in an effort to create a means of long distance communication between the young couple at the extreme right and left of the mural. This is a 20th century activity but their look is essentially from the pre-revolutionary period.

This is especially the case if you look at the heads of all the workers. Their hairstyles are what you’d expect to see on some classical Greek sculpture and even their clothes point to an earlier era. This more ‘traditional’ dress is accentuated with the style of the clothing of the two young people at either end. It says more late 19th rather than late 20th century.

All the activity in the centre seems to be geared to uniting these two young ‘lovers’. They are in rural settings whereas the telecommunication workers indicate a city and industrial environment. The young woman is bringing a telephone receiver (the style of which you only see in museums now but which was ubiquitous for the majority of time of telephonic communication) to her left ear. Why the male doesn’t also hold a handset is confusing. He just seems as if he were walking on a cloud, not really aware of anything.

Georgian post-socialist depiction of women

As for the young woman I have to make reference to her breasts as the unreal depiction of the female breast is ubiquitous in Georgian sculpture of the revisionist (post Socialist) period in the country’s cultural history. The breasts seem like small bowls that have been plunked on their chests. The vast majority of sculptures of women produced during times of the construction of Socialism I wouldn’t exactly say play down the female form but in Georgia it wasn’t until the success of revisionism that the emphasis on shape, and sexuality, seems to have become the norm.

This can be seen most obviously (sic) in the large sculpture of ‘Mother Georgia’ in the hills above Tbilisi. There are other examples; on the market mural, the sculptural group in the centre of the town as well as a number of (damaged) female sculptures in the courtyard of the Kakabadze Fine Art Gallery all in Kutaisi; the facade of the magistrates court in Tskaltubo; and even on the large sculpture of ‘Victory’ which dominates the hill above the grave of the Unknown Soldier in Vake Park in Tbilisi. (Links to these locations to follow.)

Contrast all these depictions with the only two female sculptures from the Socialist period still on public show, that I’ve seen in Georgia, which are part of the façade of the Rustaveli Cinema on Rustaveli Avenue in the centre of Tbilisi.

If we refer to another country which depict women in Socialist Realist art then there are many examples in Albania. To select just a couple there’s the the statue of Liri Gero (behind the National Art Gallery) in Tirana – but contrast that with the very recent sculpture in her home town of Fier where she looks like a 21st century young woman out on the town on a Friday night – or the sculpture of the female partisan and child in the Lushnje Martyrs’ Cemetery

How the mural is made

Method of construction

The method of construction is also quite unique (at least for me) in that rather large chunks of the terracotta seem to be made and then all is revealed when the pieces are put together as in a very large, three dimensional jigsaw puzzle. This same technique is also used in the mural on the west facing wall of the market in Kutaisi – not far from the marshrutka (mini-bus) stop to Tskaltubo. More information will be provided as and when I come across it.

Location

On the left on left as you go down Tseretseli Street from the main bazaar towards Central Park.

GPS

42.3271

42.6001

How to get to Tskaltubo

Marshrutka number 30 leaves from its terminus on the western side of the Red Bridge, which crosses the Rioni River beside the main Kutaisi market. Closer to the market is the stop for a number of buses but you walk through that area (passing a cheap out door bar on the right) to cross the red painted iron bridge. The marshrutka will be on the left once on the other side. They leave roughly every 20 minutes. Cost GEL 1.20 (not the GEL 2 as in some guide books – although some of the drivers will take the GEL 2 and say nothing although others are honest). The price will be on a piece of paper somewhere, normally at the front of the vehicle.

Journey takes about 30 minutes to get to the centre of Tskaltubo. Once you cross the railway track (after 20 or so minutes) you are at the bottom end of Central Park. The marshrutka then follows Rustaveli Street on the eastern edge of the park passing the railway station and information office, the Municipality, Court and Police buildings, and then the entrance to the huge (now luxury 5 star) Tskaltubo Spa Resort all on the right. (The marshrutka takes the same route when going back to Kutaisi and can just be flagged down anywhere along this road.)

When you get to the northern edge of the park the road widens out and after passing the Sports Palace on the left and the now being renovated (although seemed stalled to me) huge Shakhtar Sanatorium on the right the marshrutka heads up to the main market. Get off when the bus turns right at the corner by the ugly, modern Sataplia Hotel. This is where you would look for another marshrutka if you wanted to go to the Prometheus Cave.

To get to the telephone exchange and the Central Park go back along Tseretseli Street (not the road you came up) and the mural is on the left just as the road heads slightly down hill – the park spread out in front of you.