On the shores of Miramar, a disused concrete mass rises that holds more than just rubble: it houses ghost stories, rituals, and unexpected encounters. The Naturist Hospital—officially the Juan Álvarez Díaz Rehabilitation Center—was built in the 1980s to offer innovative therapies, but closed just five years later, in 1989.
Since then, its abandonment has sown a fascination with the occult, the human, and the inexplicable in local generations.
What happened to the Naturist Hospital after its closure, and how did its legend begin?
After closing in 1989, the building was under the care of private security until its complete abandonment in 1994, marking the beginning of its dark reputation. Shortly after, the first urban explorers began to hear unusual accounts: wailing, hesitant footsteps, and the famous “planchada,” a nurse in an impeccable uniform wandering the halls.
The story goes that, after a romantic betrayal, this nurse abandoned her compassion and was involved in a tragic episode with a child in her care. It is said that her ghost was trapped, condemned to seek rest in the ruins of the hospital.
Why does this site continue to attract thrill seekers, and how does the community experience it?
The place remains a meeting point for urban explorers, video gamers, and groups that play extreme games like “gotcha,” leaving their mark in the form of graffiti, rituals, and traces of their passage. In 2015, a player discovered a corpse during a game, reinforcing the tragic aura of the location.
Despite its deterioration—now creaking, rotten, and with dry swimming pools—the locals view it with both respect and fear: closed Sundays, neighborhood watch, and stories of echoes in the night and vague presences in the windows.
What does this site reflect about our way of dealing with history and abandonment?
Beyond the din of mystery, the old hospital reflects an urban wound that many cities harbor: a space with a past of service and advanced technology that fell into disuse, without maintenance or purpose, and that people filled with stories to cope with its deterioration.
In these ruins, fear and curiosity coexist, sadness for what is forgotten and the instinct to reconnect with a piece of the past that the elderly remember—the union workers, the patients, and even the disgraced nurse.
Source: posta
