Years ago – when it first got trendy, obvs – I went on holiday with friends to Croatia. Evidence of the war was still everywhere, from ransacked cottages on the coast to bullet holes in the walls and pavements of the historic city Dubrovnik. On a daytrip there we came upon an extraordinary derelict hotel, which had been shelled during the siege of Dubrovnik.

The Hotel Libertas was just outside the city walls, set in a spectacular location in the cliff face. It was easy to access and it was still a popular place for locals to sunbathe. People sat on towels around the shattered swimming pool and swam from the rocks below.

We ventured inside the hotel, and were able to climb the grand central staircase and explore the rooms. All the glass was blown out and mattresses were overturned, some rooms torched. Grasses and shrubs grew on the balconies. Offices sat with filing cabinets ransacked and paperwork all over. I picked up a paper bag for a shower cap, pristine and with a lovely 60s graphic design on it.

It was eerie, a stark reminder of the terrible violence which had ravaged the country so recently. It was also odd to see what had been a grand and very beautiful Modernist – even Brutalist – building in such a state. The decoration, in the form of geometric relief-work on the walls and brass lattice screens, was still intact.

Some of my friends later went up the coast and found many more of these abandoned hotels – many of which it seem have finally been rebuilt. The Croation tourist industry – Game of Thrones and all – has reignited demand for these glamorous, architecturally exciting hotels. Today the Hotel Libertas has been refurbished as a luxury destination. The kidney-shaped pool has gone, and it appears to have gained a helipad. New floors have been added at the top.

I bet it’s lovely to stay in. But having visited the ghost-hotel it is strange to see it reborn with its brutal – if not Brutalist – history erased.