Snow Time for Unnecessary Puns

Armenia's second largest city doesn't get a lot of visitors. It's a shame. There is a charm to the black brutalism of Gyumri, the dark stone buildings running down tree stump-lined avenues. On a dark, late autumn day there's an almost-gothic feel to the city. The trees have emptied their leaves for the season and the low-lying clouds create a pervasive, grey ambience.

The first thing I thought about doing when I arrived in Gyumri was leaving. Not because I was so displeased by the city or because I felt uncomfortable in it but because I knew it wasn't going to be easy to leave. After some days in Yerevan, I wanted to break up the six hour journey back to Tbilisi. I thought going to a major city in the north would be a good option. Especially with the onset of cold, wet weather in the coming days, I preferred to go to a small city than get stuck in some old lady's house at a homestay in a small village.

But when I arrived I noticed that it was no more easy to get from Gyumri to Tbilisi than it was from a small town in the north. In fact, had I stayed at a small, more scenic and more touristic town I would have been on the route the minivans take from Yerevan to Tbilisi. They could have picked me up on the way. Instead, Gyumri was off of the main drive north so it required a taxi to take you to another town and then swap to a minivan to get back to Tbilisi.

Before I could leave the city I thought it best to be in the city, if only momentarily. I walked around the city for a few hours, saw a fortress and went to a museum before sleet and rain began to fall.

For the first few hours I stared out the window and watched as sleet became snow. But it was still a few degrees above freezing so the wet snow landed and instantly melted on the stone pavers creating a grey sludge. As the light began to fade in the late afternoon the temperature began to cool further. I moved away from the window for an hour only to find, when I returned, that the grey city had become a winter wonderland. Snow was falling heavily. Cars' tracks were covered within minutes of being made.

I'd moved from autumn to winter instantaneously. From water to snow. From visible to invisible. From grey to white.

I wondered if roads would be open the next day. It would be fine, I told myself, I was only two, maybe three hours from Tbilisi.

(It took seven hours to get back.)