Azerbaijan: Surprisingly Not Crappy

                     

24 May 2009

Border Crossing in Dodgy Countries, Lesson One:

1. Dress modestly (mankini--bad idea, no matter how close you are to Kazakhstan)

2. Be respectful (jokes about epidemics generally ill advised)

3. No laughing (see above re: Swine Flu humour)

Having duly been chastened by Tim to behave ourselves at the Azeri border after their adventures there last year, we were a good little group of humble westerners, and with surprisingly little ado, find ourselves in Azerbaijan for the next few days. The medical officer (big hat) said we needed medical exams; Cheryl told him we have no fevers, and he said that was good enough for him. Slightly bizarre, as nearby Turkmenistan has completely closed it's entire border because of the extremely low risk of Swine Flu, and Azerbaijan didn't do more than glance at us to determine that we're epidemic-free. I suppose it's a lesson in the arbitrary nature of bureaucracy, clearly applicable the world over. No pictures allowed, of course.

          

First impression of what's arguably the most alien place we've been so far—strangely, quite nice, and really much more plush than Georgia. Which was unexpected, as Georgia has closer links to Europe, and being Christian seems more like, well, us, somehow. In the last few years, an oil pipeline from the immense oil fields of the Caspian Sea has been routed through Azerbaijan, and the nation is benefiting hugely from the income that generates. A brilliant (though slightly dated now) book on this region is Lutz Kleveman's “The New Great Game,” referencing of course the 19^th century struggle to control this part of the world, Britain versus Russia. Now it's all about American and European oil companies (and governments) versus Russian ones...Russia must feel like no one ever leaves them alone to just get on with annexing random countries with enormous oil and natural gas reserves, you know?

Azerbaijan has been ruled by the ex-Communist Heydar Alaiyev (see above) for the last 10 years—although he is now technically dead, posters of the surprisingly robust looking old gent are everywhere, including in the inevitable park and museum every Azeri town has. Naturally named after him.

           

Stayed last night in the town of Seki, once a stop on the Silk Road. The place we stayed was an absolutely beautiful caravanserai, converted into a Soviet-era hotel with laughably basic bathrooms and slightly grey sheets...but the building is all arches and fountains, domed spaces and ancient bricks. Today we've come across the country to a flat, almost surreally empty landscape, dotted with mud volcanoes.

         

Yes, mud volcanoes. Grey cones of bubbling, icy cold mud, oozing down the slopes they've formed over years. Apparently they can indicate the presence of natural gas, and occasionally erupt with 300 feet of hot...um, mud. All very strange. Of course the boys have spent a good amount of time this afternoon throwing stones into the volcanoes and splashing one another, and I've managed to get a foot stuck into it, leading to one very grey Havaina flipflop. They seem to have spontaneously abandoned their shirts as well, with some excellent farmer tans on exhibit. Perhaps the primitive landscape has evoked a vestigial response. Or they are in fact 7.