Nearly Neutral Travel

Borjomi, also known as the pearl of the Caucasus, is a small resort town in central Georgia. It’s well known throughout ex-Soviet countries for its natural mineral water springs, which are said to have many healing properties, and it’s a popular bottled drink throughout the region. We stayed two nights here, which gave us one full day to make the most of Borjomi’s offerings.

Most of Borjomi’s sites are situated in a gorge cut between the mountains by the Borjomula river. The river is criss-crossed by a number of bridges, including the one below, which also featured a charming guard who inspected passers by between naps in the sun.

From the bridge, we continued upstream, passing countless market stalls and some impressively ornate architecture. This is where the fancier resort hotels are located, but alas it was a little walk for us from the main town centre.

Arriving in Borjomi’s Central Park, we were greeted by some very well sculpted gardens, and the source of the town’s fame – a water fountain created from one of the gorge’s many natural springs. We quickly downed one of our bottles of tap water to create an empty vessel, and Sara went to fill it up.

She subsequently tried it and pulled a face, before handing it to me. It was certainly an acquired taste – warm, subtly carbonated, sweet and salty on the palette with an eggy aftertaste. Just what I needed to settle my stomach.

Not wanting to waste it, Sara kept the Borjomi water in her bottle for several days after this. She insisted that she was drinking and enjoying it, while in reality getting increasingly dehydrated.

We continued through the park past what is apparently the “most extensive ecologically-themed amusement park in the Caucasus.” You can’t argue with that! However, each of the rides was motionless, with many under covers already. I guess we’re well into shoulder season now, and we’d seen plenty of photos of the town under snow in the winter. Still, we amused ourselves on anything that wasn’t bolted down.

Continuing further upstream, the fairground rides ran out leaving just a path beside the river, which produced a constant and soothing accompaniment of white noise as we walked. The path weaved its way across over the river via a series of increasingly rotten bridges, on which old and broken slats had been covered up by new wood, giving them a patchwork appearance.

Eventually, after some back and forth (we were under some confusion – no change there), we arrived at our destination – a trio of hot (well, warm-ish) pools filled from the mountain’s famous springs. Similar to the fountain, these also gave off a pungent sulphur smell, but were just mild enough in temperature to encourage us in for a short wallow. Much like drinking the water, soaking in the pools is supposed to cure some motor and nerve-related ailments, along with pretty much everything else. An information board aroused our suspicions when it described the pools as being highly effective at curing symptoms that were already in remission. Hmmmm.

Upon exiting the park, we couldn’t pass up the chance to ride yet another cable car. This one took us back over the park, and up to the top of a cliff overlooking the gorge along with the rest of the Borjomi.

Sara assured me that it wasn’t anywhere near as shonky as the one she rode a few days earlier in Kutaisi, although its departure from the lower station was slightly more violent.

We were met at the top by yet another rusting Ferris wheel, although this one didn’t look like it had seen any visitors in quite a while. Not wishing to push our luck any further, we opted to walk back down to the park via a highly educational nature trail. This was all fun and games until we spotted a snake rustling through the bushes next to path, prompting a rendition of Sara’s famous “Snakey watch, Spider watch” song (memorable for her bold attempt to rhyme ‘watch’ and ‘forest’), as we hurriedly descended back to the relative safety of the central park.

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All in all, Borjomi provided a very enjoyable mountain retreat en route to Georgia’s capital, Tbilisi. Still, we were also excited to return to the modern luxuries of a big city, such as craft beer and Airbnbs with washing machines.

Just a few miles from Kutaisi is the spa town of Tskaltubo. Although it’s still a living, breathing town, it’s best known for its many crumbling sanatoria, bath houses, spas and hotels. The town exploded during the Soviet years as a place to come for rest, relaxation and healing, thanks to its waters of immortality that were used in balneotherapy. At the peak of its popularity, there was even a direct train from Moscow. Although a couple of the bath houses and resorts are still in use or have been renovated, many were abandoned after the fall of the Soviet Union and have since fallen victim to the elements, making them ripe for exploration.

The most photographed one

Sanatorium Iveria was the first spa we explored, and what a place to start. The building was crumbling, completely uninhabited and mostly stripped of all its interiors, but there were still some signs of how opulent it would have been, with ornate cornicing and ceiling roses still intact. We climbed the stairs to explore further and were very careful not to stray too close to the edge of the atrium, which we think would have housed a huge chandelier but was now completely open. Further inside, we found what would have been bedrooms, tiled treatment rooms and a huge space that looked like a ballroom.

The one with Stalin’s private bathing room

Bathhouse No. 6 was the only one we visited that is still open and offering treatments. It’s also where Stalin had his own private bathing room. We’d read that it was virtually impossible to get access to Stalin’s room but that it might be worth asking (or begging) nicely. Neither of us particularly wanted the awkwardness of being refused, but it seemed silly not to ask when we were already standing in the lobby, so imagine our surprise when they waved us through with a smile! It was pretty cool and we were left alone to admire the mosaics (and to peek into other treatment rooms on our way there and back).

The one with all the wedding photographs

We upped the ‘intrepid explorer’ ante a bit at Sanatorium Medea by approaching (along with our usual dog friend/guide who had joined us for the afternoon) via a very overgrown path that led to the back of the sanatorium. At least this meant we got a few minutes of exploring to ourselves, because this was by far the busiest site we visited. We’d read that it was a popular place to have wedding photographs taken but we were still a bit surprised to actually see a wedding party around while we were there. I don’t blame them though – it was pretty cool (although I hope the bride got less bitten by mosquitos than I did…)

The ones where wild dogs chased us away

Finally, there were a couple of sanatoria that we wanted to visit but where the resident dogs had other ideas. We decided not to mess with them!

The first was Sanatorium Tbilisi, which had a totally spectacular exterior. However, we’d read that much of the building was inhabited by internally displaced persons from the conflict in Abkhazia. We didn’t want to pry, given these are people’s homes, so we weren’t so sad not to go inside.

The second time this happened, we were a bit more disappointed. We’d read on Wander Lush’s excellent guide that Sanatorium Metalurgist was her top fave to explore because it was so beautifully preserved. We’ll just have to satisfy ourselves with the pictures we saw on her blog, which as an aside, I would highly recommend if you’re planning a trip to Georgia. Much more professional than our ramblings 😉

We only saw a fraction of what there was to see in the area, but it was a fascinating afternoon and totally different to anything else we’ve done on our trip so far. Our next stop was Borjomi, another spa town (we are on a roll) around two and a half hours south-east of Kutaisi.