Journey to the Georgian Border: Relics of the Soviet Union

I shared a post on Hive on how I began my travels to the Georgian border from Armenia. The method of transportation was a minibus that contained three elderly women. It was an odd concept to me to be able to just hop on a minibus and go to another country with such simplicity, and it reminded me of the boredom of being in England, particularly these days as we removed ourselves from the European Union. Being a small island, then only increasing that isolation from the world with new travel restrictions. It's sad in a way, but it made me realise how fun it is to be a nation that is connected to many others, with roads to take for travel rather than the stress of airports and flying. I settled in quite quickly though, it wasn't a particularly cold day at the time and inside the minibus it wasn't overwhelming either. Only as we began to enter the mountains did the landscape start to change and a temperature drop was felt. 

At this point there were still plenty of signs of industry here, a lot of relatively modern, and old, industrial equipment laying around. Strange structures that looked like moon bases out of a science-fiction film would quickly come into view and then disappear into the horizon. I had never seen things like this before, aspects of industry that hammered into the Earth, the extraction of metals and rocks that would later be used to construct Armenia's famous buildings with the stone it doesn't export to others. An intense wind would be seen in the few flags and items left around that would wave.

This landscape was incredibly rocky. You'd see machinery parked up on the sides of roads, deep in the fields of nothing. Digging away in hopes of finding something useful. It didn't seem like the sort of environment in which it would be rich in resource, and the initiatives to dig there seemed small, rather than large industrial operations. Some areas had mounds of gravel, or huge rocks that piled up and left. It was an odd atmosphere to begin with, not really sure what was going on there or what the intentions were for the future. There were no real signs of life, most homes seemed abandoned, or old and mere debris of what was once there. The sort of places where you could easily just stop the car and get out to explore, that feeling that you really are the only person around for miles would be felt. A great place for those who may camp out under the stars, or perhaps have interest in urban exploration.

The larger scale of industrialism were few and far between. The structures in the first two images were a rarity. More old rundown factories of the Soviet Union were what held presence in the landscape. You didn't see those all that often either. But sometimes you'd come across what felt like a small ghost town. A place in which you could tell was once thriving, a community reliant on the production facilities that inevitably collapsed and displaced the workers. Armenia is riddled with such places. Almost relics of a bygone era.

By the unkept roads were huge cracks in the Earth. Though these were clearly not a result of the industrial work taking place in the area, but signs of a former river in the space. Perhaps going back millions of years prior to where. this may have been the ocean floor. Cracks in the Earth that led to no place, adding to the dryness in the air. This is something you really do feel in the outer parts of Armenia, that cold, crisp air that is refreshing to breathe, but holds a particular dryness to it that cracks the skin of the hands, dries your lips and your face, pulling out that weathered and aged look to your appearance. It's unavoidable. These rock formations were everywhere, and it spoke on the mountainous region this really is. Like something pulled from a fantasy film in which one would roam the harsh and diverse lands. 

Some of the roads were clearly having some idea of work done on them. Large machinery was parked by the sides of roads that implied they were either attempting to do some maintenance or expanding upon the highway. For the most part these roads were empty, you'd rarely see any cars on them. Mostly the old Soviet Lada or 60's era type of Soviet car. It made sense, after all, these roads only led to the more poor areas of Armenia, away from the more wealthy areas in and around Yerevan.  

But I liked this about it. The decay and the rundown atmosphere gave it authenticity. There was the feeling of truth behind it all. An area in which it still felt very much Armenian and void of the more globalist influence that encouraged endless development in all aspects. I had seen this elsewhere near Yerevan, and I was definitely growing tired of how modern things were starting to look, still full of the Armenian culture and tradition, even the influence in some areas of architecture. Armenia is full of its Soviet past, and it isn't necessarily getting replaced, just countered with plenty of modernism around. I wouldn't say I am really a fan of that. The old farmland, the rundown buildings held by generations, the simplistic equipment they used. It all made me think of a simpler time. A more simple life in reliance on your own produce, not the modern life.

It had me realise that I need this sort of thing in life. I am a person that really likes the more traditional side to life. The idea of modern life boring me. I realised as the minibus pressed on into the mountains that this is what I was born to do. To roam these unknown places, to find myself in the dirt. The cold. The natural. With backs packed with camera gear to capture it all. 

At the same time I felt some sadness at how some beautiful areas were left to rot. The beauty of the brutalist style the Soviet Union had. Passing by small former gas stations and stores that many villagers and travellers would have relied on for their adventures through the lands. You'd see these buildings with their old logos, their old Russian text on them that would shout "Мойка" into the world as it advertised various car repairs and maintenance. You still see this everywhere in Armenia, still very much active as people rely heavily on their cars for transport. But these stores and businesses out in the middle of nowhere, rustic and faded. You can really feel the atmosphere and emotion that was left behind. Imagining the many faces and stories that passed through these areas in the past. What that may have been like. 

This was still only the start of my trip to the border of Georgia. The environment was still similar to that of the area I had just left. I could look to the left as we climbed the highway up to the mountains, looking down at this region of dirt. Smoke filling the horizon was many fires from the farmers. Clouds all over. Mountains far back that towered all else, faint signs of their presence only visible with a few moments of patience as your eyes roamed the sky, slight elements of structure emerging from the clouds. 

This was a space of depth. Countless stories to be found within every corner of the eye. History present all over. I wish I could have stopped at every place, photographed everything. Roamed through these areas and talked to the locals to hear their stories. The see the differences in life, the forgotten areas that seemingly were left behind in the past. But the minibus continued, taking us to even more interesting places. The journey was still in its early phase.

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