Along the Dagestan Border to Ancient Lahij Village - Lahıj, Azerbaijan
Lahıj, Azerbaijan
A TOUCH OF FAWLTY TOWERS....
Our Sheki Palace Hotel in central Sheki had been a very pleasant place to stay. Our room was comfortable with high ceilings and cathedral styled windows with lovely views over the city of Sheki and the surrounding densely forested hills. Our meal the evening before was good. Alan had a wok fried chicken dish and I had the old fashioned Chicken Kiev which I thought should be pretty authentic given the former Russian state status of the country. Both meals were fresh and delicious.
Suleyman announced as he left the previous afternoon that he would be picking us up at 8.00 am the next morning. We groaned inwardly. After 22 days solid travel, we were tiring and a leisurely morning would have been greatly appreciated. There was no point in arguing. We obviously had a pretty full day travelling to the capital city of Baku via the ancient village of Lahij (Lahic). Even worse, we were told we had a number of churches to visit on the way. "But I thought we were in Muslim Azerbaijan. Surely, we would be seeing only a few mosques" moaned Alan.
We may sound like heathens but you only need to talk with a few tourists who have been travelling for some time, to constantly hear that they are well and truly "over-churched" or "over mosqued". It was not so much a complaint or a criticism of the tour, but a fact that we were indeed by then well and truly "over-churched". But there was no point in complaining..... After all, we had seen the itineraries - but perhaps not quite all the little extra "special church" visits that our Georgian guide Keti had included!
Dinner may have been good but our breakfast was farcical. In fact it felt like we were back in Central Asia in the often joked about make believe country of Absurdistan.
Arriving early to our hotel breakfast restaurant, Alan ordered a fried egg for himself. The waiter who bore a striking resemblance to the British comedian Mr Bean (Rowan Atkinson), looked doubtful. Not a good start. "Ahh yes, that will be eleven minutes" he said solemnly. The accuracy of the timing of this rather long fried egg amused us but we shrugged our shoulders. Annoyingly, Alan's egg didn't eventuate (little did our good waiter realise he was dealing with Alan who is almost religious about his love of fried eggs - when we are travelling that is. He has been known to throw "wobblies" when they are not available and it is hard to forget the occasion when in a Tibetan hotel, he couldn't peel a substitute hard boiled one....).
Concerned about our early pick up, we again asked about our breakfast. "Ahh, twenty five minutes" our waiter replied. We said we would just have toast but the waiter said he didn't have an extension cord for the toaster. After some time of dithering around the restaurant he arrived with the extension cord but then the toaster didn't work. Trying hard to help us, he did eventually find another toaster but that didn't work either. In the end we ordered bread and cheese which was woeful. The stale crumbling bread must have been made weeks ago and from my notes I describe the cheese as "looking and tasting like ****".....
We gave up on breakfast, hurried back to our room to pack and check out, and then waited for Suleyman. An hour passed and no Suleyman; not even a phone call. It did not add to our humour one bit although it did give me time to write some notes and dictate into my voice recorder. On the positive side it also provided us with a fascinating window into the quaint surrounds of our Sheki hotel.
Elderly women swept the cobblestone streets with wide straw brooms. We had often wondered about the efficiency of the brooms which are widespread throughout China and Central Asia. But like the ubiquitous grubby looking mops we saw in hotels and shops in this part of the world, surprisingly they really did seem to work.
Gold toothed men wearing amazingly shiny silver suits and long pointy toed shoes gazed curiously at us. Often accompanied by (presumably) their wives wearing similarly flamboyant attire with glittering beaded dresses and brightly coloured flowing shawls, they moved in closer and closer to us until we had quite a little audience. No-one smiled but they weren't unfriendly either. Finally a whiskered elderly man walked over and nodded his head to us. We smiled back and the group dissolved. It was a stark reminder of how few European tourists visit this remote part of the world.
Finally Suleyman arrived looking like he had just got out of bed - and he had. As we all have done at sometime in our lives, he had slept in not even hearing his phone alarm. Apologising profusely, he quickly loaded us into the car and we sped off to our first destination, the village of Nij, home of the Udi minority people and their Christian Church of Jotari.
TO NIJ (NIC), IN THE QABALA REGION OF NORTH-WEST AZERBAIJAN
Our one hour drive to Nij followed the foothills of the Causcasus mountain ranges, flanking the Dagestan border. Again, our road took us through pretty, lushly forested countryside with that fascinating border looming to our left and just over the cloud topped high mountain peaks.
Our journey provided us with an opportunity to ask Suleyman about lifestyle in this unusually secular Muslim country. One of the great advantages of travelling on a private tour for just the two of us, is that it allows us to discuss with our guides some of the more practical topics about how people actually live their day to day lives. And for us, what could be more interesting than that? Furthermore, it provides a certain privacy whereby we can usually delve into some of the more delicate subjects such as religion, human rights and local politics - something which would be nearly impossible on a group tour. Suleyman was happy to oblige and kept us entertained with useful information about his country as well as freely offering his personal opinions.
One thing we were finding was that Azerbaijan is a country of great anomalies. On one hand it is a Muslim country - but its people love alcohol and women do not have to obey any dress rules. It is a Turkic country yet its government is very Eurocentric, and like many of the central Asian countries we have visited it still retains some of its former Soviet ethos. Suleyman explained that whilst Azerbaijanis are amazingly hospitable, they are still wary of outsiders and may be almost intrusive in their curiosity about foreigners. Well, we found that out that very morning. Like Suleyman, their tenacious sense of family values is overwhelmingly one of their strongest values. And once again, he reiterated his family's displeasure about him being unmarried at "his age". For Suleyman, who was aged no more than in his early thirties, even in this relatively forward thinking country, his lack of a bride was very serious stuff.
As Suleyman had emphasised the day before, the country is unbelievably religiously tolerant. Officially, about 90% of the population are ethnic Shia Azeris but there are significant pockets of minority groups such as ethnic Armenians, Lezgins (Sunni Muslims from South Dagestan), Molokans (a spiritual Christian ethnic group originating in Russia), Russians, Georgians, Talyshi (ethnic Iranians), Jews and the Udi people.
Suleyman again stressed that while Azerbaijanis are serious about their religion, they are relatively casual about putting its practices into action. Lonely Planet sums up "....relatively few women cover their hair and the Azeris who follow the Orucduq (fast) during Ramadan generally do so for the "right reasons" (spiritual and physical purification) rather than through any perceived compunction. Less pious Azeris use Ramadan as an excuse to cut down on the vodka rather than actually stop eating during daylight hours. Restaurants stay open...." .
THE VILLAGE OF NIJ AND THE UDI JOTARI CHURCH OF ST ELISEUS
We had entered the Qabala district and were travelling toward the historic village of Nij. The district or rayon's administrative centre is the historic town of Qabala which in ancient times was the capital of Caucasian Albania. We remarked on the well kept small townships that we passed through, with the median strips housing attractive fountains and well trimmed topiary trees. The mountainous border seemed somehow seductively closer, their pastel mauve peaks dappled in the morning light. It was a very beautiful journey.
The village of Nij in the Qabala District, is home to the ethnic minority Udi people, an ancient native people of the Caucasus who also live in Russia, Georgia, Armenia, Kazakhstan and the Ukraine - and thought to be descendants of one of the most powerful ethnic tribes in ancient Caucasian Albania. The population in Azerbaijan is about 4,000 people, most of whom live in Nij.
Today, the Udi are allowed to freely practise their religion and retain their unique culture - but not surprisingly this was not always the case. Peace and religious freedom only came to these pious people after independence and finally confirmed in 2003 when the Albania - Udi Christian community was officially registered and work began on restoring their places of worship. The Udi speak a unique language and interestingly are the only ethnic minority retaining their affiliation to Christianity. The Nij Udi community is very close knit and the children attend special Udi schools within Nij village where in addition to the usual Azerbaijani curriculum, they are taught the Udi language, their history and ethnic culture.
One of the most sacred places for the Udi in Nij village is the recently restored 17th century Jotari Church of St Eliseus. Nestled in splendid parklands of giant plane trees, some thought to be as old as the original structure itself, this tiny church is still actively used for local Udi Christian church services. When we arrived, a group of particularly well dressed people were gathered at the gates, presumably waiting to attend a service or celebration. But once again, we appeared to be the only tourists giving us plenty of time and space to absorb the atmosphere of this surprising pretty little church.
THE SEDUCTION OF THE DAGESTAN BORDER
Travelling along our road from Nij to the village of Lahij and gazing continuously at the majestic bordering mountains of the Greater Caucasus, we asked Suleyman about a possible future visit to the Russian Republic of Dagestan. Suleyman turned around while he was driving, looking at us as if he thought we were stark raving mad. "Why would you want to go there", he asked? Good question as our answer could only be something like "Because it is there...and across that wonderful bordering mountain range". And yes, that it sounded so exotic.... and of course Alan had always wanted to visit Dagestan - and of course that fab number one tourist destination Chechnya... I was never sure however if this desire was a Alanian type joke or whether he was deadly serious. Suleyman shrugged his shoulders and went on to tell us that corruption and kidnapping was rife in Dagestan. "Oh, they don't ask for much money" he said breezily. "About US $20 would see you freed and probably unharmed but then you would drive (say) another thirty kilometers or so and the same thing would happen again. And again.... "And what would happen if you ran out of money?" asked Alan. "Ahh, then you could be in real trouble" said Suleymen solemnly. I could see our adventurous Alan was rapidly going off the idea.
A flamboyant party outside an attractive sprawling building to our left, caught our attention. A mixture of well dressed adults and children appeared to be thoroughly enjoying themselves with loud music, singing and lots of dancing. As Suleyman pulled his car over to view this celebration, the people waved, beckoning us to join them. Apparently, it was a end of term school party and no wonder the kids looked so happy! We politely declined their invitation but it did look like a lot of fun.
Our journey took a sharp turn at Semaka toward the mountains along a heavily timbered country road; the dense forest stands of silver and black stemmed birch, beech, chestnut and other cool climate trees forming wonderful dark deep green canopies with very little undergrowth in the heavily littered dark forest floors. We could have been driving through a planted parkland. It was quiet and truly beautiful. "I bet the mushrooms are wonderful here" I thought idly, remembering those wonderful tree mushroooms that our guide David had introduced us to in Armenia. I nearly commented on this but thankfully I was reminded "Oh God, don't mention Armenia!".
We were now travelling through the Ismailli Rayon in the central northern region of Azerbaijan. Our road climbed up countryside which for us was highly reminiscent of our journeys in northern Pakistan. Our travels followed the deep gravel gorge of the Ghirdiman River, in some places the road was only just etched into the sheer schist walls of the steeply eroded mountainsides. Built in the 1960's, It is the only road which is open for car travel to Lahij and the village can be cut off for weeks during winter due to snow or landslides. Various sources have described it as "extremely dangerous" but we expect they have not travelled on roads in Pakistan, notably to road from Passu to Shimshal in the northern Hunza area!
The scenery however was spectacular and occasionally Suleyman would pull the car over to allow us to absorb the splendid views and take photographs. At one stage we stopped to look at an ancient stone bridge across a ravine on the other side of the river. This was, Suleyman said, the remnants of an old trade route which once bore the endless plodding journeys of traders with their donkeys and horses from Caucasian Albania to Dagestan, and beyond into the old Russia. We had seen many old trade routes like this in Tibet and Pakistan. How the heavily laden animals managed to keep their footing on the narrow dangerous roads was impossible to imagine.
LAHIJ, AN ANCIENT VILLAGE LOCKED IN TIME
Suleyman's elderly aunts were warm and welcoming. Suleyman had invited us to tea in their rambling old home right in the centre of the ancient village of Lahij, and overlooking the gushing grey snow melt waters of the Ghirdiman River. Dressed in traditional long velvet Azeri gowns and hijabs, they smiled and nodded as they led to us to a large central dining room housing a long table which could seat some 20 people and walls adorned with local paintings and family photos. Tea was served in cups on an old silver platter along with bowls of sweets and cakes. Suleyman disappeared, as did his aunts, leaving us to enjoy our tea, and take some time out to gaze over the family garden and orc*******to the village, river and surrounding mountains.
Guides and/or drivers often invite us to their family homes and on this trip it had been a lovely experience and a great opportunity to see how local people live their day to day lives. Some of our travel agents on previous trips had frowned on the practice of home invitations and in these instances we had to keep this information to ourselves, and of course not include family names in my travelogues. Suleyman's aunts spoke no English at all but they certainly made us feel very much at home, topping up our tea cups and - most usefully - showing us where the toilets were located.
Suleyman was born in Lahij village where his extended family had lived for generations. His aunts' residence was the main house and largest of all the family homes, and was where the whole extended family once dined and sat for long discussions after meals. In recent years however, several of the older male members of the family had died, and most of the children had moved to the city for education and employment. Sadly these days, the old long table is seldom used for family occasions. Suleyman also showed us a house which he had inherited from his parents. Looking rather dilapidated, we wondered whether Suleyman would ever return to his home in his native village. Perhaps when he was married and settled? At least that bit was a certainty.
Even today, Lahij is a very remote mountain village and life in Suleyman's early days was tough. He spoke darkly of his youth and the hard times he endured looking after the animals and labouring on his family farm. It was a great credit to him that he able to move away from Lahij and successfully undertake tertiary studies, finally qualifying as a high school teacher. The Azerbaijani government has placed a high priority on improving education, especially for regionally based students and these days, a relatively high percentage of Azerbaijanis have obtained some form of higher education. Suleyman again spoke highly of his government's initiatives, explaining that education was free of charge, although 12 military service* was compulsory for males following their university studies (*In Azerbaijan, men between 18 and 35 are liable for military service; the length of service is 18 months and 12 months for university graduates).
Wandering around the narrow cobblestone lanes of the old village was a delight. Elderly men sat chatting. Sheep, goats and the odd dairy cow were herded through the alleys by young men riding bareback on fit ponies. Coppersmiths clanked away in their surrounding shops as they had done for centuries. Carpet makers greeted us outside their shops, offering to show us their hand woven wares. Interestingly, there was no hard sell. The shop owners were extremely welcoming and friendly, a trait we were to observe throughout our short stay in this remarkable country.
Lahij, although still in somewhat of a time warp, was in the fortunate situation of being recognised as a potential tourist location and had attracted substantial government grants for restoration. Several of the older buildings had been well revived to their former glory and the ancient old cobblestone streets repaired. Like much of this country, Lahij village was looking happy, prosperous and well. It was of course helped along by the country's substantial oil wealth - as well as a forward thinking government.
The quaint village of Lahij is one of the oldest settlements in Azerbaijan. Located on the southern slopes of the Greater Caucasus at an elevation of 1,629 meters, it houses a population of around 2,000 people, most of whom speak the Tati language (a dialect of old Persian) as well as Russian and the native Azeri. Centuries of isolation due to its remote mountain location has meant the Lahij people have not only developed their own culture and craft skills, but also a unique language and communications system. Interestingly, Tati has no alphabet and it is only a spoken language with no written text.
Similarly, because of its mountainous terrain, there is virtually no commercial agriculture in Lahij and animals are kept mainly for private consumption. The village is famous for its metal work with the main industries being coppersmithing, wood crafting and carpet making.
The area is extremely earthquake prone and the district throughout history has been destroyed many times. Lahij today however is far more earthquake resistant due to the technology of inserting wooden beams built into the mostly stone walled structures to act as efficient shock absorbers. The village also houses unique water systems and is thought to have some of the oldest developed sewerage systems in the world. "Kurabandis" or subterranean sewerage systems which were made from polished river stones, date back to between 1,000 to 1,500 years old. Today, they still lie functioning under the neatly cobblestoned laneways of Lahij. Piped drinking water only came to Lahij village in 2008-2009. Before then, it was collected by the village women from the numerous fresh springs in the area.
We thoroughly enjoyed our morning walk through Lahij, stopping to buy some copperware bowls and bracelets, and a beautiful tiny silk hand woven carpet (yes, yet another carpet...). This was definitely our sort of village.
Many people ask us why we travel to such remote destinations and why we don't settle for visiting some of the more popular softer options such as France, New Zealand or Canada. Well, to our way of thinking, tiny lost villages such as Ushguli and Mestia in Georgia, and Lahij provide the answer. They are just such unique destinations where time has almost stood still for centuries and genuine rustic friendliness and hospitality still prevail. We find these villages simply fascinating because the people and their culture are so vastly different from those in our own home country - and as a real bonus, there are very few tourists....
"Suleyman, Suleyman!" cried an elderly woman's voice as we were leaving Lahij village. It was another of Suleyman's aunts who lived in the big home and she had collected several bags of sweets which she wanted to give us for our journey. This tiny old woman running toward us was amazingly agile as she bounded over the steep rough incline down to our road. On greeting us, we were amazed at her incredible vivaciousness.She had a most wonderful alive face and probably the most astonishing green eyes we had ever seen. Suleyman told us that in her youth, she was the most beautiful young woman in the region. We believed him. She was still absolutely stunning - it was just a pity that she did not smile for the photograph of her below and the photo does not pick up those amazing eyes. Despite our lack of language, there was a real rapport between us - with her smiling and pressing our hands firmly around the sweets. I can still see her, waving a white handkerchief in the distance, as we sped out of this very special little village and toward the city of Baku. A truly lovely experience.
TOWARD BAKU
A Chance Meeting and "Those Striking Eyes..."
Not far out of Lahij, we came across yet another flock of sheep being herded right down our road, completely blocking the thoroughfare. Recently shorn, some were black faced with long floppy ears, others were just pure white with long suffering gentle faces. Several goats in amongst them wielded large curved horns. A shepherd wandered beside them, coaxing them occasionally with his wooden staff. No-one seemed to be in a hurry or concerned they were blocking the road. Like Lahij, life just seemed to be frozen in time.
A group pf people with young children appeared, waving to Suleyman. They were also part of his extended family and were from Baku but visiting the family in Lahij. The women were traditionally dressed - in respect to their Lahij village family said Suleyman, adding that very few women wore hijabs or covered their arms in Baku city. The young family was absolutely delightful. They spoke perfect English and were extremely friendly and keen to talk to us. But I couldn't keep my eyes off a young girl in a brilliant blue tunic and an immaculate white hijab. She would have been aged no more than thirteen years old but what was quite astounding were her striking huge green eyes. Surely we thought, it would be most unlikely to find two people in this small village with eyes like these. As it happened, the young girl was the granddaughter of Suleyman's aunt we had only just farewelled - but it certainly was a startling co-incidence.
Shamakhy Juma (Friday) Mosque OR How Did We End Up Talking About the War???
We thought our conversations were doing splendidly well, avoiding any reference to Armenia or for that matter to the Nagorno-Karabakh war - until that is when we arrived at the Shamakhy Juma Mosque, some 60 kilometers south-east of Lahij village....
On a very hot afternoon we had travelled from the mountainous cool climate forests through to much drier countryside, our road flanked by wide, open, treeless undulating plains with little vegetation other than tufted grasses. We were in Shamakhy, capital city of the Shamakhy Rayon, a district with a rich heritage and home to major political and geological events throughout much of its two millennia of existence. The city has survived eleven major earthquakes but through multiple reconstructions it miraculously maintained its role as an economic and administrative capital and one of the key towns on the Asian-European Silk Road routes.
The only building to have survived the eleven earthquakes is the landmark Juma Mosque thought to have begun construction circa 743 with major re-building during the 10th century.
Under a scorching sun, the commanding mosque shimmered; its tall slender minarets piercing a cloudless amber sky. The huge dimensions of such massive mosque structures never fail to impact; the enormous courtyard and imposing construction of the mosque giving it an impressive but almost formidable appearance. The mosque itself covers an area of 46 meters in length by 28 meters in width. It contains a large worship hall, divided into three separated sections connected to each other by large open apertures, giving it the description of a "Three Hall Mosque".
Suleyman chatted away to us about the history of the mosque until we reached a large marble plaque etched with gold writing. His demeanour darkened considerably as we read:
"The Juma Mosque of Shamakhy was constructed in 743. It was seriously damaged in the aftermath of earthquakes of 1859 and 1902. During the March Genocide of 1918, Armenian Nationalists set the mosque on fire. In 2010-2013, it has been extensively restored and rebuilt in accordance with the decree of President Ilham Aliyev."
It goes to show you how little we knew about Azerbaijan history. We were well versed about the Turkish led Armenian Genocide from 1915-1917 but we had never heard about an Armenian led genocide of the Azeris. Suleyman snarled "Everyone talks about the Armenian genocide but no-one acknowledges the Azeri genocide by the Armenians". Sadly, this is true.
Apparently, large scale bloody campaigns against the Azerbaijanis by Armenian led forces has occurred many times during the last two centuries. The genocide mentioned on the plaque refers to atrocities committed by the Baku Soviet and Armenian armed Dashnak forces between March 30 and April 3 of 1918, in different regions of the Baku Province, as well as Shamakhy. The genocide which resulted in the execution (depending on sources) of up to 12,000 Azerbaijanis, is commemorated by Azerbaijan as "The March Days".
Not surprisingly, the notorious bloody Nagorno-Karabagh War came under discussion. Clearly troubled, Suleyman described the massacre of over 600 Azeri civilians at Khojaly (now part of the disputed Nagorno-Karabakh region) by Armenians in 1992; the end result of the war causing Azerbaijan to lose almost 13% of its territory to Armenia and around 800,000 Azaris left homeless - an entire generation of Azeri refugee children having grown up without a proper home or education.
On our trip we had made wonderful friends with Armenians, Georgians and now Azerbaijanis, some of whom had actually fought in these crazy wars. It was a disturbing reminder of how close war still is in the lands of the Caucasus - and how understandably ingrained the memories of these atrocities still are in the people of these little known countries.
The Diri Baba Mausoleum, Gobustan (Qobustan Rayon)
We were travelling through the Qobustan Rayon and pleased to be off the topic of war, we asked Suleyman about the surrounding countryside. He was adamant that there was no actual desert in Azerbaijan, just "semi-arid lands". And, he insisted "Azerbaijan has enough water for EVERYTHING!". Suleyman, as we were finding out was an excellent ambassador for his country.
Our final visit for the day was to the Diri Baba Mausoleum in Gobustan (capital city of the Qobustan Rayon), on our way to Baku city. I must say - we really don't care for mausoleums and would have preferred to visit the petroglyphs and mud volcanos for which the Rayon is famous - but as it was our last visit we could not complain. We were however becoming edgy about reaching Baku in time to exchange some US dollars for local currency (Azerbaijani New Manat). As we could not exchange money in Sheki, Suleyman had kindly loaned us US $50 to cover any incidental costs. But like most people, we simply hate the thought of borrowing money and were keen to find a bank. We were also mindful that our hotel in Baku did not serve meals, and more importantly, we needed to buy some wine....
The mausoleum was unusual, being built right into the cliff face of a steep craggy outcrop. Constructed in the year 1402 from local limestone, this two storeyed building with its cupola roof, overlooks a valley and an old open cemetery. Being built into the cliff, it has only one facade and its distinctive architecture is highly regarded by historians and archeologists. Many myths accompany the old mausoleum, one being that it houses the body of a sacred person, Diri Baba who remained imperishable. It is also thought to house the architect's body.
The long, almost vertical climb up to the mausoleum on a very hot afternoon was taxing to say the least, but the old structure was quite intriguing with fabulous views over the undulating distant plains of Gobustan and toward Baku.
To Baku
As we headed along the road to Baku, the countryside became flatter and drier. On the outskirts of Baku, new housing settlements and monotonous square apartment blocks equipped with an astounding number of satellite dishes dominated the dusty scenery. These explained Suleyman, were built for the refugees from Nagorno Karabakh. Seemingly, in the middle of a dusty nowhere, we wondered how the poor refugees would fare. "Did they have much hope of a future?" we asked. Suleyman thought not.
Closer to Baku the air became suffocatingly dry; the sky an orange dust filled sphere. It sure looked like desert scenery to me. In the distance we could just make out a city dominated by enormous skyscrapers. Closer to the city, we came across more modern buildings; the well kept streets lined with flowering gardens and extensive parks.
On our left hand side we noticed a massive sign saying "Baku 2015 1st European Games". Suleyman explained that Baku was host to the games which were to be held in just weeks after our arrival. This was considered a major win for Azerbaijanis, to be finally recognised as a world leader in convention and sports facilities and host to major international events.
Late in the afternoon, Suleyman dropped us off at our Austin Hotel which was located right in the middle of a lovely paved mall in central Baku. "And by the way, Lider Television will be interviewing you tomorrow", he added as he drove off. Suleyman's boss had called during the morning to welcome us but his reference to being interviewed was very vague. We had hoped by the end of the day it was all forgotten. "Oh great", we thought....
We had heard that Baku was a fine destination but we must admit we were completely astounded and overwhelmed by this beautiful sophisticated, very urbane European city. Our little boutique hotel overlooked the main mall with its gracious old buildings, facaded with balconies and flower boxes. Interestingly, the buildings and streets looked almost new, they were so clean and tidy. Cafes lining the mall were filled with lively patrons, and couples walked freely hand in hand along the streets. Women wore strappy brief tops over tight scrubbed jeans. The young men wore similarly modern attire. We could well have been in any major modern European city.
Our first mission was to find the Baku Agricultural Bank which Suleyman told us was just around the corner from our hotel. Well, we didn't find it and becoming anxious with our obvious time constraints, we asked a waiter in one of the outdoor restaurants. The waiter went to no trouble to assist us but when we finally found the bank, it was of course closed. On our return, he called out to us in perfect English, saying there were plenty of private money changers nearby who would certainly be open. And they were.
We were in luck. Equipped with our New Manat, we soon found a liquor shop where we could stock up on wine and whiskey - and feeling rather buoyant we began to walk back to our hotel. "Sir, madam - why don't you enjoy your wine in my restaurant. You do not need to order any food or spend any money. Just come and sit down." our waiter friend called out to us. Impressed by his friendliness and kind assistance, we replied that we would dine at his restaurant that evening. It was a great choice.
On a warm balmy evening, we thoroughly enjoyed wandering along our beautiful hotel mall, just watching the world of Baku pass by. Our meal at the Turkish Sultan's restaurant was nothing short of fabulous. The food was excellent and the service was spot on. Needless to say, our waiter friend - who turned out to be the restaurant owner - attended to us, making sure we were completely happy and well looked after. The restaurant was packed with patrons, many of whom dined with their families in the main inside dining rooms. Bliss.....