Urban Exploration - The Green Thermal Baths
We received photos from a traveler and compiled them into a historical summary.
This is a thermal station that is more than well-known in the world of urbex. For once, it’s a stroke of luck that it hasn't been tagged, unlike the "Blue Baths." Let’s hope it stays that way, even if, unfortunately, the building is decaying furiously on its own due to significant water infiltration.
A bit of history before we begin. This spa opened in the 1830s, like many others during that great era. Success was not immediate: the roads were rutted and described as "dreadful," the mountains "sinister." Nevertheless, a bar and later a hotel were soon established nearby. In this small tourist town, the appeal remained secondary; people came primarily because they were very ill and the waters were known to heal—that much was certain. It is worth noting that this is a very small establishment, the smallest spa I know of, in fact.
A Program of Ink and Mist
Unlike leisure resorts, the patients here were truly sick. After swallowing an abominable hot water that tasted like ink, their only distraction was contemplating the misty surrounding mountains. Quite the program... The facility operated on a purely medical rhythm; the hot waters were said to be miraculous.
Consequently, an entrance hall was added to the building, featuring a pediment adorned with sculptures. In the entryway, three basins receive the waters, decorated with the names of the village's main springs. Behind them are the baths—small, rather dark alcoves equipped with seated bathtubs. The corridor is beautifully decorated with floral tiles, all topped by a magnificent glass roof.
Art, Tiles, and Decay
Back then, to say the least, they knew how to tile! There is such beauty in these floral motifs with their clean lines, mostly in shades of green. The place is very soothing. The hall is filled with the sound of the spring "glug-glugging" through the pipes, but also, unfortunately, all over the floor. The walls and plasterwork are gorged with water; it’s spongy, covered in moss. The decay is advanced.
The spa closed in 1970 in favor of a gigantic, brand-new thermal facility. However, the COVID period was nearly fatal for the area. The situation is difficult today; parking has become paid in a large section of the town, and the locals are not particularly happy about it. The building is classified as a historical monument, but that doesn't stop the slow and inevitable degradation from seeping into the very soul of these baths. Eventually, any renovation will be a calamitous task.
When I stepped outside, nature was generous, offering blackberry bushes laden with fruit beyond reason, beyond what seemed possible. It was a beautiful place, sadly weighed down by heavy decay—a beautiful memory nonetheless, in honor of what these myriads of small local spas were in the 20th century.
