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A look inside old sanatoriums on the Continent

Far from being eradicated, old diseases like tuberculosis are resurging in Europe



There are no more facilities for people to heal: all of the sanatoriums on the Continent have been abandoned. So one must head East, where cathedrals of mud baths erected by the Soviets still help workers heal.

Huge Brutalist building nestled at the top of the Gissar mountain range. Khoja Obi Garm, Tajikistan
Image Credit: University of Pittsburg Press
Patients in the tunnel of the National Speleotherapy Clinic, which contains purifying layers of sylvanite and salt. Soligorsk, Belarus
Image Credit: University of Pittsburg Press

All lovers of ruins know: visiting an abandoned sanatorium is one of the most striking experiences possible. These enormous buildings, which are often furnished like hotels, have an asphyxiating atmosphere. Visitors walk through vast dining halls with formal furniture and narrow treatment rooms with unidentified medical devices.

The long hallways of the sanatorium in Lorraine, which has been abandoned since 2006, or the dried-out swimming pools of the facility in Aincourt feel much more like the sets of Hospital Massacre than The Magic Mountain.

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Speleotherapy and an oil bath

The magnetic black sand of the ancient region of Colchis (Kolkhida sanatorium) is supposed to relieve some ailments related to the heart, blood, joints, bones and circulation.

Heated mud treatment, which has a healing effect on arthritis, eczema and even promotes weight loss. Tskaltubo, Georgia

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But the institutions where Roland Barthes (who himself had tuberculosis) described “living together”, where residents could socialise by the pool, still exist.

They’re in the former Soviet Union. Like the subway systems, these sanatoriums were created by the former communist regime as “palaces of the people,” where labourers could heal and recharge their batteries before getting back to work. Maryam Omidi’s book, Holidays in Soviet Sanatoriums, explores the last bastions of these hygienic colonies, most of which are on the coast of the Black Sea: in Crimea, the Ukraine, Armenia and Russia.

Ultra-high frequency therapy at the White Nights sanatorium, to relieve sinusitis and also tone the skin. Sochi, Russia
Image Credit: University of Pittsburg Press

These are a far cry from the timbered spas of the Swiss Alps. Stalin’s sanatoriums are Brutalist colossi whose angular silhouettes dominate the skylines of the cities they’re in. But what is most strange about these institution is not their shape. Rather, it’s the type of therapy they practice. Far from the canon of Western medicine, the Soviets opted for original treatments often maligned by the West.

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For example, the oil baths offered by the sanatorium of Naftalan in Azerbaijan or, even more exotic, speleotherapy. This healing method practised in Belarus exposes patients to the curative properties of mineral salts. The sanatorium of Soligorsk, south of Minsk, was built in mines where patients would spent two weeks underground, doing gymnastics.

Sanatorium Metallurg. Sochi, Russia
Image Credit: University of Pittsburg Press

Healing geographies

Maryam Omidi describes the life at Russian “sanas,” which looked nothing like resorts. Collectivism was the name of the game, and it was not uncommon for people to be sent to sanatoriums with their co-workers. Discipline was strict, distractions were limited, and the best spots were reserved for the most loyal workers. But behind the mud-baths and sulphur water was another level of the sanatorium reserved for Communist Party higher-ups, athletes and spies. There was a clearly structured healing hierarchy and geography: members of the KGB went to Odessa, cosmonauts went to Sochi, functionaries of the Kremlin went to Janarnij Bereg, those from the Gosplan went to Voronovo, World War II veterans went to Issyk-Koul…

At the Alyans sanatorium, after being covered with hot mud, the patients are wrapped in a thick blanket. This keeps heat in for between 10 and 15 minutes. Jeleznovodsk, Russia

An oxygen therapy room in the Roknik sanatorium. Pyatigorsk, Russia

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All of these facilities still exist, and contrary to their European counterparts, still take patients. Of course, the geopolitical upheavals that have taken place in the region have had an impact on those seeking care. The annexation of Crimea by Moscow took a heavy toll on the sanatoriums of the region. The same thing happened to Abkhazia, a puppet republic where the pools remain empty.

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Sanatorium Matsesta. For patients unable to withstand the heat of a full mineral water bath, this topical treatment allows submersion of the arms and legs only. Sochi, Russia

IMAGE 12: A Kyrgyz wrestler takes a swim in the pool before visiting the on-site gym for training at the Aurore Sanatorium (Issyk-Kul). Boulan-Sogottou, Kyrgyzstan

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Giant medical facilities

These ageing buildings have not been properly maintained, much to the chagrin of some architects who remain nostalgic for the audacity of Soviet era structures. The sanatorium of Druzhba in Crimea has a sort of circular saucer that looms over the city, and the one in Kuyalnik has a swimming pool covered in giant pyramids. At the end of her book, Maryam Omidi interviews Igor Vasilevsky, a Soviet architect who spent his whole life constructing sanatoriums. He designed the structure in Voronovo, one of the most radical examples of Bauhaus architecture, and has been sorry to see the decline of so many Soviet buildings. Except in the West, where the giant medical facilities erected by Stalin and Khrushchev continue to inspire dreams.

A patient at the Bucuria Sind sanatorium. Chisinau, Moldova
Image Credit: Supplied

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Holidays in Soviet Sanatoriums Maryam Omidi — FUEL Publishing

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