Azerbaijan - A Caucasus Adventure

 "Do you want to go kiss?", said the young mini-skirted woman. I stared at her. "Only 15 Manat ($10)", she said. I was in Sheki, in the Caucasus mountains of Azerbaijan, close to the border with Georgia. 

The trip to Azerbaijan was accidental. My initial plan was to visit Iran. I wanted to use a land border to enter Iran. So, I thought of flying into Baku, Azerbaijan, spending a few days there and then travelling southwards to the border to enter Iran. The reason I wanted to use that border was because it is a notorious border. There were supposedly American, Russian and Iranian intelligence agents and recruiters, money exchange scammers and other unsavoury characters over there. I wanted to see what happens. But my Iranian visa got rejected. I surmise that it was due to the U.S. Green Card stamp in my Indian passport. The rejection letter said that I should apply through a local sponsor in Iran. I do not know a single person in Iran, so that was out of question. Meanwhile, my Azeri visa came through. I decided to travel to Azerbaijan. 

I was sitting in a flight about to depart to Baku from the United Arab Emirates in a middle-eastern airline. The flight was full of rich Arabs - Saudis, Emiratis and Kuwaitis. There were quite a few Azeris. I was perhaps the only Indian on the flight. Two flight attendants were staring at me and discussing me. One of them came over to me and said, "This is a flight to Azerbaijan". I told her, "Yes, I am going to Baku". "Can I see your boarding pass?", she said. I showed it to her. "Do you have a visa?", she asked. "Yes, do you want to see it?", I replied. She said, "No, it is okay". Most of the Arab men were wearing a thobe (a loose robe worn by Arab men). Most of the Arab women were in burqa (a long, loose garment covering the whole body from head to feet). The Azeris were wearing jeans and t-shirts. A little later after the flight took off from the UAE, some of the Arab women took off their burqas. A few were wearing shorts or short skirts underneath. Most of them were wearing jeans and a top underneath.

I was in a middle seat, seated between an Azeri man and a Russian woman. The Russian woman was staying in a town in Russia near the Azeri border. Her nearest international airport was Baku in Azerbaijan. She was flying into Baku and then taking a bus to Russia. The Azeri man asked me, "Why are you going to Azerbaijan?". I said that I was just travelling. I told him about my Iranian visa rejection and that I had planned to go to Iran. He said, "Great. Nobody should ever visit Iran". I said, "Why?". "I don't like Iran", he said. 

I said, "Both Iran and Azerbaijan are Shia Islam countries". He said, "Iranians are traitors to Shi'ism. They support Armenia in the conflict". He continued, "They also mistreat ethnic Azeris in the north of Iran". Azerbaijan has tumultuous relationships with Armenia and Iran, both bordering nations. I had opted for an Azeri meal on the flight. I typically opt for the meal of the country that I am flying into. It's an early introduction to that country. I got served saffron flavoured rice with lamb kebabs. The lamb seemed to have been marinated in pomegranate juice.

I checked into my hotel in Baku. The floor of the bathroom was heated, even though it was a budget hotel. Gas for heating costs almost nothing in Azerbaijan. The country was one of the world's largest producers of natural gas and it's a wealthy country due to gas exports. A lot of the taxis in Baku were Mercedes taxis. There was a cart next to my hotel run by a middle-aged man, selling pomegranate juice, beer and bottled water. Pomegranate is the national fruit of Azerbaijan. The word in Azeri is the same as in Hindi - anar.  The man with the cart asked me, "Are you a Hindu?". I said, "Yes. Are you a Shia Muslim". "My God is Gorbachev", he said. 

"Gorbachev?", I asked. He said, "Mikhail Gorbachev. He dissolved the Soviet Union. That's why Azerbaijan is an independent country. Otherwise we would still be under Soviet occupation". Azerbaijan is geographically a part of Europe. 98% of the population is Muslim, and it is a secular country. "You can eat and drink anything in Azerbaijan. You can get non-halal (meat that adheres to Islamic principles) food", he said. "You can get pork. You can get liquor", he said. "Are you a vegetarian", he asked. I said, "No. I am not a vegetarian". "I heard that they slit your throat in India if you eat beef", he said. 

I wanted to go and visit the mud volcanoes in Qobustan. I had heard about the journey there. From the bus stop on the highway, the only way to reach the volcanoes is by taxi. The taxis are ancient, battered, Soviet era Lada cars. I met two other Croatians in the bus stop. We decided to share a taxi. From the highway, it was an uneven, unpaved mud track to the volcanoes. The Lada taxi bounced along the path at breakneck speed. The shock absorbers shrieked, the springs in the seats almost broke and we were thrown about inside the car. There were no seat belts. After about half an hour, we reached the mud volcanoes. I am not sure what was more spectacular. The ride in the Lada or the volcanoes. 

When we got into the car to go back, it did not start. There was not a single other soul there near the mud volcanoes. Were we in trouble? After a few attempts, the driver asked us to push the car. The three of us pushed the car along for a fair distance, before the car started. The Croatian woman said, "Did you know that 2000 years ago, traders from India used to come to Azerbaijan on horseback to trade in salt?". "For salt! Not for gold! And we were scared of being stuck in the mud volcanoes", she said. 

I walked into an open-air bar, heated with outdoor gas heaters, along the cobble stoned streets of the old city in Baku. I ordered an Azeri beer, Xirdalan and the waitress said, "We have two Indian dishes on the menu". I said, "Is it Garlic Naan and Chicken Tikka Masala?". "How did you know?", she exclaimed. I hated to tell her that they were the two most popular Indian dishes outside India. The bar was full of Arab men. The waitress said, "Saudis. They come to Baku to drink". The table next to mine was occupied by a very old couple, who were speaking in a British accent. A giant Mercedes SUV came and screeched to a stop right outside the bar. 

Two young Azeri women, wearing next to nothing stepped out. The waitress ran down to them and said, "You can't park right in front of the bar. It's a 'No Parking' area". The woman started the SUV and pushed the car in front with her SUV, to make space and parked her SUV. She then got out, opened her bag and took out a sheaf of 100 Manat ($67) notes. She handed a bunch of notes to the waitress, "Give it to the owner of the car for the damage". The two women then lit up cigarettes and walked into the bar. The waitress came over to my table, gestured towards the two women and said, "Oil money. Rich father". The Saudis were in shock. The old British woman told her husband in a perfect British accent, "I wonder what these Azeri girls wear in summer".

I went to the bus station in Baku, euphemistically called the "International Bus Station". I could not spot a single international bus on the departures board. I had to climb up one floor, buy the ticket and then come down again to board the bus. I got into a bus going to Qabala. It was a non-heated bus. My plan was to get off at Ismailyi and then get another bus to go to Lahic, my destination. Even though I was getting off at Ismailyi, they charged me the full fare to Qabala. The bus was full of Azeris. I was the only non-Azeri. Nobody knew English. They knew only Azeri and Russian. An old woman, seated next to me, smiled at me. I smiled back. She pointed to herself and said, "Qabala". I pointed to myself and said, "Ismailyi".

The driver told me that we had reached Ismailyi and I got off. Ismailyi was just an intersection with about 10 buildings totally. The bus to Lahic was very infrequent and there didn't seem to be any bus in the foreseeable future. I decided to take a taxi to Lahic. There were five taxis parked in the intersection. None of them were interested in going to Lahic. After about 15 minutes, another taxi arrived and he was ready to go to Lahic for Onbes Manat (15 Manat, $10). I knew what was Onbes Manat because I had paid 15 Manat to travel by the bus. The taxi was an ancient Lada taxi and the road to Lahic was a dirt track that climbed steeply up the Caucasus mountains. I could see snow clad mountains in the distance. The Lada taxi laboriously wound it's way up the dirt track. We reached Lahic after about 45 minutes and he dropped me at my hotel.

I tried the door of the hotel, but it was locked. There was no door bell. I knocked but there was no response. I waited on the road which was actually a dirt track. There was a house next door. A woman came out, saw me waiting outside the hotel and said, "Namaz". It was a Friday afternoon and the owner had gone to the mosque for prayers. She gestured to me to come to her house and wait. I had to remove my shoes and I sat down on the floor on a rug. She gave me a glass of pomegranate juice. She said, "I want to visit India one day. I want to see the Taj Mahal". After about one hour, the owner of the hotel reached and I checked in. He asked me to leave my shoes in the corridor and enter my room. Footwear was not allowed inside the hotel rooms. 

Lahic was a tiny village of just 400 people with a single cobble stoned street. Almost everyone in Lahic was a copper-smith. It was around Lahic that the Caucasian race originated. As I took a walk, people would stop and stare at me. A lot of them took pictures of me. Most people in Lahic had never seen an Indian before. A majority of the visitors to Azerbaijan never travel outside of Baku. I went to a chaykhana (tea house). The chaykhana was full of old men. As I entered, the conversation completely stopped and everyone stared at me. One man asked me, "Hindustan or Pakistan?". I said, "I am from India". "That's Hindustan", he replied. 

All of them were copper-smiths and all of them were playing dominoes. The owner of the chaykhana gave me a pot of black tea flavoured with bergamot and a pear-shaped glass. You put a sugar cube in your mouth and then suck the tea through it. He also gave me halva (a sweet). "Are there any Muslims in India?", they asked. "There are 200 million Muslims in India", I said. That shocked them. "Are there any Shia Muslims in India?", they enquired. I said, "Of course. My father used to live near a Shia mosque". Another man asked, "Is Muharram (a Shia commemoration) a holiday in India?". I said, "It's a national holiday. Everything is closed". That made them all very happy and the owner gave me another plate of halva and said, "Free for you!". I asked the copper-smiths, "How is business?". They said, "It is really bad. Nobody appreciates our work anymore. Everything comes from China". 

From Lahic I travelled to Sheki, near the border with Georgia. Sheki is known for Shabaka, a stained-glass art where the wooden joints are interlocked without using any metal. I was standing outside the Sheki Khan's Palace which was extensively panelled with Shabaka stained glass, when a young woman wearing a mini-skirt approached me and said, "Do you want to go kiss?". I stared at her. She said, "Only 15 Manat ($10)". My suspicions were confirmed and I said, "No". She said, "15 Manat is a good price. I take you all the way there. You can spend as much time as you want there and then I will drop you back to your hotel". "You are a taxi driver!", I exclaimed. She pointed to a Mercedes and said, "My boyfriend's taxi. He drives. I am a guide". She was talking of the old Albanian temple in Kiş, a village 10 km away from Sheki. 

On our way back from Kiş, we stopped in an open-air chaykhana. The two of them lit up cigarettes. "So, you are a Hindu?", she asked. I said, "Yes". "Are there Shia Muslims in India?", she enquired. "There are more Shia Muslims in India than in Azerbaijan", I said. I don't think she believed me. The population of Azerbaijan is 9 million and the number of Shia Muslims in India, according to Vali Nasr, an Iranian-American academic, is 30 million. The owner of the chaykhana, seeing me, joined us. "Ah! One day I will visit Hindustan", he said. He produced a bottle of Stolichnaya and said, "How about some Stoli?". He then poured the vodka into our tea glasses. "This is how we drink tea in Azerbaijan!", he said. 

I was on my way back to India. The immigration lady at Baku airport said, "Remove your glasses". She then said, "Get a new passport when you go back to India. You have aged". As soon as the flight took off from Baku, the Arab women put on their burqas. I asked for an Azeri meal, possibly my last Azeri meal for quite some time. 

Have you ever had a visa rejection? If so, by which country?

Comments please! Thou shalt get a reply!

Update:

4th October 2020: A full scale war has broken out between Azerbaijan and Armenia over the disputed territory of Nagorno-Karabakh.