Finding Neverland

While going through some photo files on my computer I came across a few images of a town that my girlfriend (knowing that I have an odd liking for abandoned landscapes) took me to see when I last visited Latvia:

The Jūrmala region, just outside Riga, has long been associated with health resorts, sanitariums and spas. During the country’s time as a satellite state of the USSR, it attracted many high-ranking Party officers – Brezhnev even had a holiday home there.

But times change and while many parts of Jūrmala remain favoured holiday destinations (namely the lovely beaches) an eerie, almost apocalyptic, corner of the town of Kemeri has become a forgotten relic of Jūrmala’s past.

Just beyond the pretty, pastel-coloured wooden houses stoops an anaemic high-rise block. Dodging the open man-holes (the stolen covers sold for scrap), passing street lights stripped of bulbs and wiring, then pushing through head-high grasses at the end of a dirt track, this huge concrete complex appears, sitting decrepit in a birdless silence that’s broken only by the wind groaning through its weathered  skeleton.

Construction began in the late 1980′s to provide accommoation for visitors to the local curative waters. But it was a victim of shifting politics and with Latvia’s independence gained  in 1991, the state-funding of the Old Regime disappeared. The site, along with its tourists, jobs and income, never materialised.

Today, it has been reclaimed by local youths. Colourful paintball shots dotting the faded corridors and courtyards the only indications of life and vibrancy, bar a few trees and scrubs that have somehow sprung up in 3rd storey rooms and concrete concourses. On one bare wall, pregnant with biting sarcasm and black humour, Nekurzeme – Latvian for ‘Neverland’ -  has been graffitied.

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