After I finished photographing the Hotel Touge, I continued along the road to see what else I could find. I only got a kilometre or so before I saw a dilapidated sign advertising the Hotel New Green. From the state of the sign I thought that the hotel was probably abandoned, so naturally I followed the directions down a lonely back road, and soon found it. Sure enough, it had obviously been abandoned for some years. Even the road was closed for repairs, with barriers just beyond what was once the entrance to the hotel. A solitary wind turbine stood perhaps 80 metres away.

By this time there were only a few hours of daylight left in which to photograph it as best I could. Fortunately I still had some charge left in my LED panels, so I was able to continue shooting the interiors after dark. It was a small establishment, with a mere six guest rooms. The design was typical of a rural love hotel - a single row of nondescript cottages, each with a carport in front. The driveway was heavily overgrown, so I had to force my way through vegetation in places. The rooms were in pretty good condition, although moisture was taking its toll. There was little vandalism, but someone had stolen some of the doorknobs. This prevented me from opening the doors to some rooms, so I was forced to find something to stand on, and climb in through the windows.

I didn't see anything particularly noteworthy about the New Green, apart from its small size. It was the smallest love hotel that I'd seen to date, and I thought that it must have provided a modest income at the best of times. I've since learned that love hotels with only six rooms are not uncommon in rural areas. I imagine that they're run as family businesses, by people who live on the premises, and perhaps have additional sources of income.

Abandoned love hotels are sad, lonely places, and are more than a little creepy when it gets dark. I was glad when I'd finished my work, loaded my gear into the van, and departed in search of a much needed meal.