Azerbaijan - The People

Instead of doing a chronological blog like, "On the first day, we went to Zfghqtry and saw [whatever]", we're doing things a bit differently.

The one thing that marked our adventurous 9 days in Azerbaijan the most was the people we met. For the most part, they ended up being a part of the adventure - either by leading us there, or already being there, just being themselves. Everyone seemed ready to lend us a helping hand, offer us a cup of tea, drive us somewhere, or chat away (in either Russian, Azeri or broken English) about the history of Azerbaijan. Really, this trip would not have been the same without....

Rashad, the airport customs guy

So, we arrive in the Baku airport and are immediately surprised to discover that while a Canadian passport holder only needs to pay $65 to get a visa and waltz on through, a South African needs a letter of invitation, stamped by Foreign Affairs. Patience on our part, coupled with a few phone calls on his (and perhaps the fact that it was 1 am and we were the only people in the whole airport) got Ty a 10-day visa.

Tea shop woman

On our first day wandering in Baku, we stopped for tea (of course). Throughout our trip, stoic stares turned into smiles. This lady chatted with us (in Russian) for 45 minutes with a big smile on her face. We learned, from her, that the best way to communicate "We are married" to anyone wasn't to show them our rings, but to hold our arms our and circle our wrists in imitation of the traditional wedding dance.

Our Carpet Guy

His name is illegible on his business card and unpronounceable in English, I think, but this guy quickly became one of our friends in Baku. He first waved us into his tiny shop in an old Caravansary (where Caravans would stop for lodging along the Silk Road) to "Look! No buy!" and, of course, immediately began unrolling carpets. We protested at first, then realized that he really was just showing us the different styles to be found throughout the country, and educating us about the regions and history of Azerbaijan. We went back to visit him 4 times over our trip, and yes, bought a carpet from him (one that was unrolled the first day, that I asked him to hold for me). He apologized for his poor English - really, it was fine - and told us stories of working for the Soviets, and living in northern Russia for 3 years with the military.
During our last visit, he showered us with gifts: Two traditional hats (hanging on the wall in the photo), evil eye charms, a blingy cell-phone bag.

The band

Leaving his shop on that first day, we could hear music. We'd stumbled into the rehearsal of a traditional band. We sat and watched and listened. Random people got up to sing, and the tar player attempted to speak with us. Later that night, when we returned to watch them play for real over supper, we got the nods and smiles that instantly make you feel like you're "with the band", and instantly cooler than all the other tourists (uhhh, what other tourists? We were the only tourists in the entire country, I think). Sadly, we didn't get to see them again, for Ty to learn how to actually play the tar he bought in Quba.

Ali Baba Shumacher, the "Jinguo!"

To get to Xinaliq, we had to entrust our lives to the incredible Ali Baba. He first greeted us by jumping out of his screeching Lada Niva and proclaiming "I am Ali Baba!". Thus endeth his English. All other communication was by the exclamation "Jinguo!", which we later learned meant "Devil!". We sat with his wife (who also didn't speak any English) and drank tea while he put special tires on his SUV, then were surprised when he placed two gun belts full of (homemade) bullets on the table next to our teacups!

A bit of miming revealed that they were in case of bears.

And so our drive began. A fresh snowfall on a narrow (and dare I say crumbling-into-the-abyss) road leading into the Caucasus mountains, while Ali Baba (aka Mr Shumacher, no speed limits in Azerbaijan, methinks) chatted on his cell phone and yelled out "Jinguo!" every 5 minutes made for an all-too-tense ride. I think you could probably take my fingerprint impressions directly out of the edges of the seats, since that's what I held onto -- oh, did I mention the lack of seatbelts?

Funny thing, though, we were relieved when, at the end of our 2 days in Xinaliq, Ali Baba arrived to pick us up.

I wouldn't have trusted those snowy and - at one point - covered by a rock slide/avalanche roads to anyone but him.

And, on the way home, we finally got to see the gun in action - as he stopped, jumped out, steadied his gun on the open window of his door and fired at (and missed) a vulture with a 3m wingspan.

Faiq and his family

There is, surprisingly, much to be found on the internet about Xinaliq (<-- this link will bring you to some incredible photos, remember though, we were there in winter and deep deep snow), the tiny mountain village where we did our homestay.

For two days, we lived with Faiq and his family (including his sister, his wife, his baby son, his brother, his brother's wife, his brother's baby daughter, and his parents).

 

A shepherd by trade, Faiq was always ready with a big smile and a "Yes" to every question. The guy who organized the homestay, Kheyraddin, chooses the neediest families for his scheme so, we found ourselves in a dung-heated house with no running water. Faiq walked us around the village, organized a snowy horseback ride, attempted communication via an Azeri-English dictionary, loaned me boots, showed us his wedding video and shared all aspects of his life with us: We even slept in his bed.

 
For the most part, the language barrier meant that we could only sit and watch as their normal life (cooking, washing, cleaning, bringing in dung, starting fires, taking care of the babies, and yes, watching weird Turkish TV) went on around us.

Our greatest ally, it turned out, was Faiq's father who is mute: His lifetime of speaking through signs and charades made it easy for us to communicate with each other. He explained the plot of the Turkish TV show, made sure our tea was served promptly, and gave heck to anyone who blocked our view of the wedding video.

Mohubbat

 

Faiq's cousin/nephew/somehow related, living in Xinaliq for the school while his parents work in Quba. The first evening, he stared at us shyly over the table. A simple gift of a Pez dispenser (now on display on a shelf in Faiq's home....) broke the ice.

The next day was spent, literally, breaking the ice as Mohubbat showed Ty how to play in the snow - he actually left a group of his friends behind to follow us around the village. Later that evening, we taught him to play a few pen-and-paper games like tic-tac-toe, which kept Ty and him busy for the next 3 hours.

The morning we left, he snuck back to the house to say goodbye.

Kheyraddin

Having organized the Xinaliq trip through Kheyraddin's website, we were really looking forward to meeting him. Born in Xinaliq, Kheyraddin is a local boy who's done good. He has lived, studied and worked around the world, from Cairo to Chicago. Usually, Kheyraddin doesn't get the chance to meet his "tourist clients" but, somehow, we got to spend a full day in Quba with him. He patiently answered all our questions about Xinaliq over lunch, and took us to the music store where Ty bought his tar. He even came out the next morning to see us off -- shame we don't have a photo with him!

Kheyraddin's Xinaliq homestay scheme is a sideline job for him, but one that has had a very positive impact on the people of Xinaliq, where the average earnings are less than $50/month. Yes, you can get there by yourself, but why would you want to? He arranged everything in advance for us - transportation (including Ali Baba!), homestay, horses, hotel in Quba - we were coddled from start to finish!

Sonalieyev, our hotel guy

One of the deciding factors for actually buying the tickets to Azerbaijan was finding a hotel that was not a) a booked-out hostel or b) super wicked expensive. Through Lonely Planet, we were able to find several links to hotels, but of the five that I e-mailed, only one actually responded. That was the Aldstadt Hotel in the Old City of Baku. It is located within the city walls, and is literally 2 minutes from the Maiden Tower and the historical bits. There were, however, other advantages, such as coffee or tea that seemed to be available at any moment and Sonalieyev, who drove us around for two days, bringing us to see the petroglyphs at Qobustan and the peninsula around Baku (think fire temples, a mosque where you can make a wish, and a surprise 11th century fortress in the middle of a slum).

Wherever he drove us, in his Lada, Sonalieyev regaled us with stories of life under Soviet rule, people who discovered oil while digging pits for their toilets, and the current reign of Heyder Aliyev, Azerbaijan's democratically-elected-president-who-has-huge-pictures-of-himself-everywhere-and-who-everyone-thinks-is-a-hero-and-who-gives-interviews-from-his-private-jet-in-a-country-where-corruption-is-rather-widespread. Ahem. To paraphrase one of his statements, Sonalieyev was laughed at for studying English when the Soviets were around (he speaks Azeri, Russian, Armenian, English and a smattering of other languages), but now he's the one who is having the last laugh, as he cashes in on the tourist trade. He somehow seemed to know everything about every spot we stopped at, and everyone who worked there.

We brought him halvesi from Sheki and he, making good on a promise, gave us a jar of his wife's homemade jam (to be enjoyed with tea, of course).

The ladies at the church in Kish (oh, and the skeletons too)

There's really only one reason to go to Kish, a village located 5 km away from the town of Sheki: It's the site of one of the oldest churches in Europe. Originally a pagan site where a church was built in the first century AD (just think about that for a moment....), the "Old Albanian Church" is worth the time and effort to see.

For less than $1, two ladies in black cardigans will bring you in, and happily show you the 2m tall skeletons that lay partially uncovered around the site. They'll point to the English signage and the unguarded 2000-year-old pottery jugs and newly excavated jewellery on display around the place, show you where to make your wish (against a part of the original wall - if your coin sticks, your wish comes true) and take your picture, then invite you back for tea and homemade homegrown mulberry jam. Once there, you might be lucky enough to be joined by the brash, gold-toothed director of the church site, whose family has been caretakers of the place for generations.

Because of the Norwegian government's interest in the site, the whole place has been transformed - they've rebuilt the church roof according to pre-1600 techniques. Students do homestays there in the summer and many of the locals, the director included, have enjoyed free English lessons as well.

But why the Norwegians? Those huge skeletons, and the carvings at Qobustan (that we also saw) are, according to a famous (and fascinating) Norwegian archeologist Thor Heyerdahl, proof that Scandinavians originated in the Caucasus mountains.

The Old Guy with One Tooth at the 11th Century Fortress in the middle of a slum

On our last day in Azerbaijan, Sonalieyev brought us around to see the sights around Baku. On our way back to Baku, he asked us casually if we would like to see "a tall old tower". We kind of shrugged and said, "Sure, why not?". After driving through a bit of a dodgy neighbourhood, we looked up to see an immaculate medieval looking tower. The gate was locked, so Sonalieyev went off to find the groundskeeper while we looked around the site.

The man who arrived, an old guy with one tooth, unlocked the padlock and led us inside. The banter began, in Russian, but by now we were used to answering people's first questions with "South Africa" and "Canada", since it was inevitably "Where are you from?". As he pointed out the relics that lay haphazardly around the site (no guard rails, no labels - this is not a typical tourist place), he would pause from time to time to say something about South Africa or Canada and continue talking about something he'd seen on TV. At one point, he looked at me, raised his arms and said, "Wayne Gretzky, the Great One!" and "Ottawa", but he was more interested in yelling "De Klerk" and "Pretoria" and "Mandela" at Ty as we toured the ramparts of the fortress.

Once again, we were baffled and impressed by the knowledge that the people of Azerbaijan have about the rest of the world, while the rest of the world (ourselves included, before this trip anyway) can barely even locate them on the map and have no idea of the richness of their history and culture.

Honourable Mentions:

Gifts from people we met in Azerbaijan

• The guy who drove us from the airport to our hotel in his old, creaky Lada with grinding gears (hmmm, this isn't a real licensed taxi, is it?), calling the hotel to make sure we still had a reservation and stopping at a money changers (at 2am), then helping us to count our money before we left by showing us on a huge calculator how much we should get.
• The waiter in Quba who mimed "fried eggs" for us in the morning and introduced us to the concept of rose syrup in our tea.
• The Jewish waitress in Baku (Azerbaijan is a predominantly Muslim country) who treated us to two pints of local beer and a pack of cigarettes, in a rather posh restaurant built into the Old City walls.
• The souvenir kiosk guys in the Old City of Baku who held onto things for us (we'll be back in a week!), with a special shout-out to the guy who gave us a rapid-fire history lesson and nicknamed Ty "The Boer".
• The teenage waiters at the restaurant between Baku and Sheki who probably thought Ty was a rock star, because of the hair.
• Surly (he was surly) and Eyebrow (he was nice), at the Caravansary in Sheki.

But really, the best part of all the people of Azerbaijan was their sincerity. It wasn't like any normal touristy place we've ever been, where a friendly smile is little more than a ploy to make you enter their shop and spend your money. Each person we crossed paths with was honestly happy to see us, and eager to share the story of their little history-rich treasure of a country.

 

OMG – I can’t believe we forgot the vodka store guy in Sheki!!! (and yes, we regret not buying, or even tasting, any the whole time, even though it was about $3/bottle)

Azerbaijan - The Places

You might need to click on the map to make it bigger....
Note: City names have variable spellings and weird pronunciations, for example, Quba is listed on this map as "Kuba", but it is said "Guba".

Nov 25 - 26: Baku - wandering around the Old City, the Maiden Tower, the waterfront, shopping and exploring, and making friends.
Nov 27 - 29: Baku to Quba, to Xinaliq (where we spent 2 nights in a homestay in a small mountain village with no running water, went horseback riding in the snow, and came away feeling worlds away from reality).
Nov 30: Baku - around the walls of the Old City.
Dec 1: Baku to Qobustan (to see petroglyphs) to Sheki by bus.
Dec 1 - 3: Sheki to Kish (to see a small 1st century church in a remote village) and back to Baku
Dec 4: Driving around Baku to see fire temples, oil fields and an amazing 11th century fort

In the coming week, we will tell you about the people we met, and the incredible adventures that we packed into only 9 days....

UAE National Day

Before we write about our absolutely amazing vacation in Azerbaijan, I need to write about the UAE National Day.

The United Arab Emirates is a rather young country, brought together by the late, great Sheikh Zayed in 1971.

This is the image of Sheikh Zayed that is found everywhere in the country. Younger photos of him show a young, happy guy, usually holding a falcon or standing next to one of his racing camels. When I asked someone why they didn't use a nicer picture of him, I was told that he had to "look like a leader".

Up until that point, this whole country was made up of smaller "Sheikhdoms" (An "Emirate" is basically a principality), and had pretty much been left alone, except by the UK (which had been aiding in their development since the time of the Trucial States).

Abu Dhabi and Dubai spearheaded the initial writing of the Constitution, then invited the other Sheikhdoms (including Qatar and Oman, who didn't join) to come together under the umbrella of the UAE.

Sheikh Zayed is still a big deal here. His image is displayed everywhere, and he's buried near an absolutely massive mosque that was built in his honour. At any function that I've had a chance to attend, the speeches inevitably contain some reference to him (I hear something like "ArabicArabicArabic Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan al Nahyah ArabicArabicArabic). His son, Khalifa bin Zayed, is the current President of the UAE (and his picture is everywhere too.... but more on that later - see below).

At my schools, National Day was a rather big deal. For about 2 weeks beforehand, students and teachers spent an incredible amount of time decorating the school, making posters, and organizing kiosks for the day. On our side, at the girls' high school, we had a kiosk with pictures of the Sheikhs, a quiz about the history of the UAE, and greeting cards for students to sign.

The real treat, though, was when I went to the girls' middle school and was treated to traditional dancing by the students. The room was full of older women, wearing burqas and abayas, and the girls - all dressed up and bejewelled - danced the "hair dance" and the "camel dance".

The hair dance basically just has the girls swishing their hair from side to side. The camel dance is supposed to resemble either a person riding a camel, or a camel itself, as the girls will go down on one knee and jerk their heads back and forth.

It was a great day, and I came home loaded with presents and candy, as well as being full of yummy traditional food and a gallon of cardamom coffee..... then changed out of my kandura and abaya, grabbed the backpacks and headed off to Dubai to catch the plane!

In celebration of National Day, we bring you....

The My Sheikh Game (Official Rules)

1 - Upon sighting any Sheikh's image, players must shout out "My Sheikh!". The first person to "claim" the Sheikh is awarded one (1) point.
2 - A picture/poster/billboard with more than one Sheikh will result in multiple points, but only if the player shouts out for each Sheikh ("My Sheikh! My Sheikh! My Sheikh...").
3- Images must be visible by all players. Players who insist on always calling the 1-storey tall image of Sheikh Zayed on a couch from 1 km away down the Abu Dhabi Corniche will be pouted at.
4- Sheikhs may not be claimed if the other player is asleep, reading a map, or not currently present. Texting a "My Sheikh" to another player does not count. Players may not wake up their opponents to point out a Sheikh to claim.
5 - If one player spots an Adnoc Oil Truck, the other player loses all their points. When in Dubai, where there are no Adnocs, one of Dubai's gas trucks (i.e. Emarat) may be substituted. Adnoc trucks are not coupons and may not be saved until your opponent has 27 Sheikh points.


6 - Games last the duration of one (1) drive, and may not be kept for the next trip.
7 - Sheikhs and Adnoc trucks may only be claimed once.
8 - The winner gets nothing but glory.

Additional Rules (to be voted on, at a later date)

A) Additional points for saying the Sheikh's complete name ("My Sheikh Khalifa bin Zayed al Nahyan!").
B) Penalties for wrongly identifying an advertisement for mascara as a Sheikh.

Azzerbajaserhakgiikan???

Sooooooo.... there's a block of holidays coming up soon. Eid #2 + UAE National Day = 10 days off.

I've decided that I have a problem. I have a, what you might call, travel addiction. I actually feel a rush once plane tickets have been booked... Weird, I know.

When one is living in Abu Dhabi, how can one go to a stranger place? Ah yes, for some of you, there may be the attraction of Djibouti or Timbuktu (Hi Mom!)... but whilst trolling the internets, when one stumbles upon flight deals from flydubai (UAE's low cost carrier - that has daily flights to Aleppo and Khartoum, and yes, Djibouti... but anyway...) and one notices that there is a deal for "Dubai to Baku for 300 dirhams" (less than $100 CDN and about 1000 Rand), one must automatically find on google where one might find this mythical "Baku".

For those of you who are too lazy to google "Baku", I will tell you this: It's in Azerbaijan.

(Ty has been calling it "Djelli-baybee" since our decision that we absolutely must go there this instant, right now, let's book the tickets and I don't care that it's almost winter there!)

And we will be there next week.

People and places

There are things about the travel life which are alluring. Some which are not. I like to concentrate on those that are. It all lies in the people you meet and the place that you are. Clichéd, and more true than you know.

Quite often the people are the ones you meet along the way, having a similar experience by dint of being in a foreign country with you, or otherwise sharing with you something of there own culture that you never experienced before. The places are yours alone, or yours to share, whichever way you choose.

I'll go with the places first. And just describe one. On Friday, Virginia and I headed for the dunes of Moreeb once more (for all you constant readers, you'll know we've had some adventures up there before... from the cars of the desert rally to the racing of falcons, but most of all, to witness one of the most desolate places on earth).

We pulled off the road at a break in the barrier, and because we do not (yet) have a 4x4, stopped short on the dirt 'road' where a dune was slowly making its crossing. We had decided we’d camp out there for a night. It was easier enough to haul our things down to a dip in the dunes which would hide the nearby road from sight (not that it leads anywhere much, and who would have thought that there would have been ATVs revving up and down all night... but that gets off the lovely of the occasion).

Soon enough we had the tent up (Virginia being surprisingly spry in tent-building) and a fire going. Now you cannot imagine the quiet of the desert at night; the ringing that constantly sounds in your ears, but can't usually hear for other daily sounds, is pronounced. I kept moving my hand in front of the fire too, for when I did, the stars would blossom furiously. The Milkyway, the stillness, and the soft murmur, hiss and crackle of the fire, while at the same time there were dunes silhouetted on all sides. It's dreams that look like this, or at the least very nice storybooks, the words you used to let yourself sleep on, while your parents read away.

Of course the morning was oh so groggy. I feel that way about most mornings, but especially camp mornings, but soon we were up, poking around at the tracks that desert gerbils had left all over the site and packing up the dew-sodden floor-mats and tent. And we needed to hurry because the desert being a desert, even heading to winter, was unforgiving; piercing the morning with sudden heat as the sun rose, though we'd both shared our shivers that night.

The point. This place of beauty took an hour drive and a brief stop for firewood. Funny thing is that in a foreign place, you do take the time out to see these things, random things, just an hour away... give it a try wherever you are. The place I chose was the desert, and the person to share that with my love.

And now the people we share our space with, and the new things we can learn to love.

Halloween, is not so great an occasion in South Africa. I went trick-or-treating with friends a few times... but, well, it was us pushing the envelope because it’s not often a done thing – at least in the area I lived. Now the people you meet... and the things you can learn to love...

Halloween! Having not quite understood, but having been part of a couple for the last few years it's all easy to work out. It's not about the kids, the candy (well candy counts)... but adults, who for one day in a year forget about it all, and dress up in their best, worst or silliest, and get to be the kid they once were. Sure the kids love it and the adults doing it now were once those kids, but when you're overseas you get to see it without the fluff... It goes on without the kids, and, I’m convinced, it's kept going for that reason too – adults just love it.

Halloween is just one of the fun things added to my life by the different people I've met.

Look around wherever you are. These places and people are in every town, everywhere. Just a 'hello' away.

As an aside... now might be the (belated) time for our Halloween pics to be put up, so here they are.

I was disappointed by the final outcome of my costume, having won last years' contest as a lovely transvestite in Korea (this time I looked rather more like my varsity self than Ozzy Ozbourne), but uber-impressed with my first Jack-o-lantern,  while Virginia dazzled with her She Devil outfit, and we all got into the spirit of things, with hideous dishes, great decorations, and some wicked outfits, that were impressive considering the tiny number of us out here who were celebrating.

 Table decorations

My “Rats in Blood Sauce”… actually came out looking a bit too awful to try.. but were good once you took the leap

 Virginia’s “Corpse Fingers”, fresh as the day they were plucked

 
The Prince of Darkness, and his Dark Queen (looking suitable devilish)

Dive Oman

Last weekend I was back in Oman. We didn’t write about it last time, but we did almost exactly the same trip two days after getting back from the Maldives (and you can assume much of the same as happened on this trip went on then too). This time Virginia decided to have a bit of a break from people and stay at home while I headed off again.

Oman is a big country on the south-west border of the UAE, but there are two rather small enclaves (i.e. parts of a country surrounded by another country) further north. One, the governate of Musandam, is at the north-most tip of  the UAE where it juts into the Persian Gulf. The second, Madha, which is rather smaller and completely surrounded by the UAE, lies between Musandam and mainland Oman on the Fujairah- Khor-Fakken road. Interestingly, there is a still tinier enclave of the UAE which is surrounded entirely by Madha - called Nahwa.

It was up to Dibba, which lies at the border of Musandam and the UAE, that I made my way for the weekend.

A group of about twenty or thirty of us had together hired a dhow for the weekend. It left from the Dibba harbour early on Saturday morning.

 

The landscape out there is worth mentioning. All along the coast line is the same thing. Rugged red and grey mountains which look to have been plucked directly from Mars, plunge directly into the sea, allowing for very few beaches, and even fewer coastal towns – although we passed one or two villages on our way up north.

We spent the entire day diving. Unfortunately unlike last time the water was not crystal clear, as there seemed to be a touch of red-tide, and there had also recently been an oil spill. Having said that once we were beneath the muck it was a lot clearer we still saw huge schools of colourful fish, and a few lovely turtles. One of the bigger fish, a batfish, followed us for one entire hour-long dive.

 

We anchored in a sheltered bay in the evening, and were treated to a feast of a supper, before packing in. It’s lovely to be rocked to sleep like that under the open sky, with the Milkyway visible overhead.

We headed back to the harbour in the morning, pausing to have a couple more dives, one in very clear warm waters, and the other could have been in a different ocean, as it was murky and cold again. On this second dive we saw about 20 poisonous scorpion fish, 4 clumped together at one point, which is rare as you tend to see few, and they tend to be alone.

 

It was still odd when I arrived back home to feel the way our perfectly solid bed seemed to sway underneath me, which I knew from last time would continue for at least another day.

Hippies!

First off, my Mom reminded me that when I ended the Canada blog, I had actually forgotten something pretty important: On our second to last day, we went with my brother and (almost all) his family on a Jet boat in the Niagara River. It's actually really cool - one of the highlights of our Niagara experience, and yes you do get 100% soaked. If you've ever ridden a jetski, it's the same principle - just a million times bigger, in huge rapids. Really fun, and no, the photos do not do it justice!

Last week, I promised more updates. I know that you are curious to know what, exactly, we do for fun out here. Well, we've recently started learning how to play doumbek (traditional Arabic drums). After only 2 weeks, we can do a baladi and a chiftatelli - um, well, slowly and with plenty of stopping and starting. It's quite fun, especially for someone like me who has zero rhythm.

My drum is the prettiest drum in the world, and I'm being rather cheeky in this photo as I am looking at the photographer (Our friend Ridwan's wife, Yanti. Ridwan is responsible for bringing all of us together to play drums) on purpose and not being all "in the moment, with eyes closed". Actually, I do find it much easier to play with my eyes closed, since any stray thoughts or distractions generally mean I lose the beat completely.

You can find quite a few videos on youtube of doumbek players, usually accompanying bellydancers (makes me wonder how they can possibly play with their eyes open and not get distracted!), and it's pretty neat!