Monomad: Soviet Playgrounds and Military Bases

When you think of a playground, once of the first things you're likely to think of is life. The many children and families running around the space enjoying the sun, perhaps the odd sign that details something regarding safety and how one should navigate this space in a considerate manner; at least, that's how it was in England. I roamed with no destination in mind again, this time a few miles away from Yerevan, an hour's drive out in a small town that is somewhat considered a city despite it being heavily residential. Old churches fill the space, the smell of the sun on the rocky landscape is almost metallic. If you walk out enough, you find the relics of a long-gone era. Signs of huge amounts of life that have been abandoned, forgotten despite their size. One space in particular was a factory surrounded by fields, nothing else nearby. Abandoned. Temptation told me to go inside, but the surroundings here continued to hit the senses. Curiosity got the best of me. This was one of the weirdest spaces I think I have ever been near. A contrast that felt all too odd. The first sign was this playground, situated around a military base, and an old swimming pool that had somehow found some use elsewhere.

Small rooms had the echoed sounds of Armenian coming from them, beneath the stairs that went upward to the swimming pool were rooms that looked as if they were shops of some sort, perhaps to sell to the military men that came to and from the base. Russian text also stood above one entrance, to which it translated to something along the lines of bodybuilding. A few men came to the entrance, certainly looking a bit better in shape than most Armenian men you'll see around. Upon the stairs one could overlook the wall to the military base. I so desperately wanted to photograph this area more, one guard held an assault rifle within his grasp as he paced back and forth from the entrance, seeming a bit more relaxed. A huge truck turned up that was clearly to carry larger vehicles, tanks and the likes. I felt a bit in danger with the camera here, half expecting something to go wrong given how close the base actually was. Mere feet away at this point. My huge 85mm lens poking out and looking obvious. I sneakily snapped a photography over the wall of a de-mining tank that was situated near the entrance before moving on. A fortunate discovery, given I recently had the temptation to get my drone sent here and fly around the space!

Remember those aforementioned signs on safety? This playground didn't have that. Instead, plastered around the space were warnings that you were in fact being watched. The park was empty, though behind it I could see a ferris wheel that was slowly moving. Rustic but seemingly in use despite nobody being on it. I wanted to find this space, but that danger of straying a bit too far into the wrong direction was felt. I tried to not linger, or move around this area too much into the unknown. It took me a while to figure out that the signs were warnings, being in just Armenian text, no logos or blatant warnings beyond that. No surprise here given how rural the area is, no tourists will be finding their way to this area; just curious idiots such as myself, and the few locals that seemed to rely on farming in the area. One old man cycled down the road by the park and base, the basket of his bicycle contained a bundle of sticks, for some reason. The entrance to the park was locked. All I wanted to do was go inside at this point. I could feel my curiosity calling me in.

Overgrown to no end. Some areas of unique Soviet history were evident. You can't really see it in the images, but a building of brutalist architecture stuck out like crazy. Odd triangular shapes and a stone, futuristic look. I tried to get an idea of what this may have been, and all I could think of was the familiar setting of how so many social spaces here would have and still do have little shops that sell various items: either a focus on cigarettes, or food and drink. Sometimes even maps and information. The Soviet Union loved to be convenient, to give its citizens the ability to spend but also work in any capacity that could've been possible. I kinda like this idea, actually. That realisation that anywhere you go you could easily find some support or essential items without having to enter a huge shop or market. I really wanted to walk up to it, to see inside and explore it a bit more, but at this point, just opposite it was no longer the entrance to the base, but the base itself. A step I didn't really want to take. Already I suspected someone would come up to me and ask what I was doing, to maybe even have some additional questions regarding the huge camera that dangled by my neck.

The overgrowth actually gave the whole park a fun look to it. It was so insanely green, all the nature that had taken over gave it a lot of colour and beautiful summery smells. A drinking fountain was found within, it threw out water with such aggression that I had never seen before from these fountains, spilling out into the floor and grass. I wondered whether anyone knew that this fountain continued to operate. I questioned if this park itself ever actually opened. It seemed like such an odd concept to have something like this just sitting in such a sensitive area. I wondered which came first: the base or the park? And if so, who decided to build each thing? Armenia often has this weird side of planning to it, where things don't really make sense, but space is utilised nonetheless. In a way, I appreciate it. The fact that there is so much decay here over the decades, but certain things still get repurposed, still given reason to exist. Some pride in what that building was. Though I still can't help but feel that there's sadness here, as these things had such great beauty.

It's interesting how this playground had so much soul to it. Found in the middle of nowhere, next to a military base. Left to rot. Showing signs of life in a different manner. Perhaps I'll keep an eye on it over time and see if it improves, if people return. Maybe even that little shop comes back to life for a short period in the year, as summer reaches its high.