Taking The Sleeper Train Through Yerevan to Tbilisi - Part 3

The first three to four hours of the train ride were within a landscape void of life. Few villages here and there, old buildings that spoke of better days. Decayed and no longer holding the signs of life that were once there. Throughout the landscape you'd find small graves, some oddly scattered around the landscape in a way that gave them more appearance. The strangest were the ones that were sat right by the side of the rail, as if to ensure that those passing through would see the grave and the person's memory would live on. Others were from the nearby villages, small graveyards that showed generations of life coming to an end, I couldn't help but think of how far back those villages went. Where some remained, others had lost themselves entirely, no longer home to anyone. You'd see the foundations remaining, some aspects of walls or frames sitting there within the nothingness. No grass, just a rocky landscape that held nothing for anyone. It made sense as to how and why these homes had died off, as people either themselves died or their youth packing up and leaving for Yerevan once all else had left the area. 

I imagined the landscape centuries ago, the life it would've once held. How people would've interacted with the space. The homes in better shape. The roads they would've taken. This part of the world is deeply connected with history, to the point in which Armenia was a heavily important part of the Roman Empire and its expansion. I imagined how fun it would be to stop and get off the train at many points, where the roads had finally stopped. No cars in sight, no homes in sight. Nothing. Not even the usual poles that carried phone lines or electricity to other regions. You knew you were somewhere empty in Armenia when you could've even see the relics of the Soviet Union anymore, no longer present were the empty factories that would appear and disappear from nothing. The large towering structures of industry that were the backbone for many small towns and neighbouring villages. It felt dry in much of these areas, locations no longer suitable to farm. Just an intense sun that reigned upon all the land. Grass dry and without colour. Plants void of life outside of the few bushes or desert plants that thrived under the conditions. 

Eventually this took a shift, the higher up the mountains we went, the more the nature began to show signs of flourishing. Tall grass in the fields, trees dominating the nearby mountains where man had left them untouched. The rocky nature of the landscape maintained, but shifted more into mountains and large cliffs. Flowers appeared, colourful and plentiful, such beauty to the landscape that had me in awe. I had never seen anything like this, and my eyes were fixated on the views the entire time. I barely paid any attention to the train at this point, the people around me were essentially not even there. The discomfort of the chairs as all the bags took up the space were mostly ignored. Noise of the people talking gone. The sounds of the train on old rail, bumpy and screeching; I barely noticed it. Nature had revealed itself in a sense that I had never connected with before. I felt home, within the sheer beauty of Earth. Little elements of society remained, the odd village here and there, growing smaller by the mile taken. Homes sat up on the mountainside.

Children lived by the old Soviet train stations. Their lives were small, delegated to the boundaries of a few homes, their enjoyment came from chasing the trains that passed through, either by foot or on their bicycles. They, and the locals, found great enjoyment in waving to us. We waved back. A brief moment of connection, the simplicity of life. Kindness shared in a mere gesture through the passing of time and through a window. Even as I type this, I want to return. I want to go back to such places, to speak to the locals, photograph and film the areas, to witness the history and the culture. A lifestyle so unique, so unknown, stories left untold. Soon, they too will be reduced to nothing, homes left idle with no opportunity remaining. Those children will likely seek better lifestyles in Yerevan, their parents will age and pass. No longer will there be a village or town to wave to on the passing through. Even so, I will never forget those moments.