Crabs, bats and communists, in Cuba's greatest Soviet souvenir.
Sat on the edge of a small town in central Georgia, this sanatorium was once a thriving wellness community. It dates from the pre-Soviet era, its pillars, stairwells, theatre halls and intricate plasterwork all oozing an atmosphere of wealth and refinement.
We found it quite by accident. I lost Internet connection as we entered the town, and with my online map lagging behind we took a few wrong turns and ended up down beside a lake on the wrong side of town. This building, stood a little way up the hill and commanding impressive views across the water, was impossible to miss.
It was already dusk by the time we entered, the day’s light fading to blue-grey mists. Beyond an overgrown courtyard, its Classical fountains now choked with creepers and weeds, the doorway to the sanatorium lay open and inviting.