We took the rumours seriously – Azerbaijan is an expensive country. Hence we stacked our backpacks with sprats and pasta, which eventually had to snooze down at the bottom. Azerbaijanese hospitality came to a level that we hardly – apart from some nuts or sweets – had to buy our own food. It doesn’t matter you are going by the car or standing at the sidewalk ten p.m. you would be invited and hosted with love and care. ‘A guest is a blessing’ we frequently hear, and truth to say, we have been trying to enjoy it fully. So our tent got some rest and maybe even got lazy as we used it only once at the Caspian sea. Even then we have been invited to stay at someone’s house. At times we felt like in some sort of surreal Scandinavian film, where peculiarity mixed with friendliness can bring you well beyond your own experience zone. All is 100% natural though, no ‘touristy’ ingredients included.

The meat meals seem to be rated at the top of Karolis country food list. ‘Shashlyk mashlyk’ just hitched policemen invited us for perhaps the best meal whatsoever. The tea flows down our veins since Turkey times, but now we have stacked quite a bit around our bellies to keep us going for another month or so.

Azerbaijan’s dashing up

‘It’s a rich country Azerbaijan’ sighs an odd georgian with a teeny tiny white envy in his voice. ‘Oh you will arrive to Baku, you will see what a georgious city it is’ the curiosity grew gradually what views would be offered. Maybe after few ‘aaws’ we had to conclude that the azerbaijanese culture is a mixture of swashed Turkish and certainly some sovietic ingredients. Suburbs are still cageboxed, whereas the old town oddly sits with contrasting new rising buildings around. Walking along the old streets you no way can avoid the popped out Flame tower architectural project. ‘We are a rich country. We have got oil’ seems like a mantra they murmur. For us it felt like some odd competition with United Arab Emirates: ‘soon we will have a building higher than the one in Dubai’ proudly claims Falsan, one of the drivers policemen. He surely knows things about money – ‘I cannot afford being just a policeman. My monthly expenditure exceeds 3000 Euros’ bragged the owner of 5 houses. ‘You need to have a business. Like I bring new German cars to Azerbaijan’. Cars are similar monsters like in Georgia. One of our couchsurfers Niko explains the logic of this gigantic vehicles purchase fashion: ‘In Europe people buy economic small cars. Here men want to prove their bravado and machismo. Often they cannot even afford it, so they take credit and get into huge debts. But then they are proud of themselves’ concluded he. He invited us for a nice cuppa or should I say for azerbaijanese cay (with lemon), but surely we been fed with an excellent meal too.

So it seems calmed but not settled conflict with Armenia regarding Nagorno-Karabach territory helped Azerbaijan to move on and do some brushing up their halls. One way or another, a vital event of Eurovision is coming, a perfect occasion to show off the super modern Boulevard so contrasting with hopefully recontructed Maiden tower and surrounding old town streets. Their dream to build up so called White City might end up in vain. ‘Where on earth we would get a million of those who could afford such an expensive area’ few people are sarcastic about it. Previous president Heydar Alyev statement „The Black City throughout centuries will turn White, clean, there will be grown flowers, and it will come to be a beautiful sight of Azerbaijan…“. Trying to surf around the project website you would be surprised and well shocked about the ambitious plans. But here they go, they’ve got oil. Will be enough rich people to populate it? And surely they do they same old mistake neglecting smaller towns and cities. Like one of the oldest city Ganja named after notorious and often compared with Shakespear but much earlier poet Nizami Ganjavi, the author of famous Layla and Majnun (Layla and Madman) poem about the tragic love. This city, where the famous poet lived all his life, having an ancient history and a potential lots to offer, apparently snoozing not surely when or if to be waken up.

Ruzigar, another guide and coachsurfer together with his friend gave us a chilled out Sunday afternoon tour where we laughed and shared our understandings of cultures. ‘Sometimes I don’t understand, why Westerners try to pretend and know better what other cultures might need. Why cannot they simply accept. And what is wrong if we do not use toilet paper?’ a young English teacher in his well spoken English explained his point. We could nothing else but agree.

Whilst waiting for our Kirghistan visa to be made in Kazachstan consulate (cheap and quick, excellent service we’d say), we set off up North to visit Sheki. We had a slightly comical but very cultured detour at first.

Local life

Just picture that. An old Ziguliai (old Russian car) stops for us, there is a tree in a boot and a full garden inside. We place our things somewhere among the flowers, and ourselves somewhere in between everything. The driver is like some old russian comedy character, talks azeri mixing in some ‘kazyol, asyol’ (goat, dunkey) russian words. The old car is growling, and when it dies the full crowd of relatives runs towards to fix it. It must be the bad quality fuel’s fault. They invite us to their home – we cannot resist that adventure. A million of kids welcome us, the food (a rooster) is ready to be served. The dinner is over, the new round of relatives. The same old car with 11 passengers in. Breakfast: milk with 4 sugars, tea with 3. Sugar overdose. The unexpected adventure is over.

The hospitality full-on tours just carried on when we got to Sheki. Tarlan, a young hotel manager, a very hospitable man, after a tea and home made jam ceremony invited us to visit his relatives. His sister is a young dentist, growing a young nearly genious girl being two already knowing how to count in Azeri, German and Russian. Her father in law caught our attention. Our Russian was certainly a key to open up the chest of personal history of artistry. He is or truth to say was a steel engravist, a master and a big talent. After collapse of Soviet Union seemed that sort of arts went out of fashion and left him jobless and letting his talent to rot. He proudly showed us his works though we heard a deep sad note by not being able to continue his work.

Sheki was all in snow and ice which surely gave us lots of space and attention by locals. Tarlan brought us to Sheki Khans Palace, where we had our ‘jaw-drop’ moment seeing all that glass masterwork where not a single nail or drop of glue been used. There has been around 40 slightly smaller palaces, but all apart this one got destroyed by Russian Empire soldiers in early 19century.

After having received our Kirghistan visas in Baku and about to make our way back to Azerbaijan – Georgia border, we were trapped in a new adventure – the wedding in Azerbaijan. Bek, our guide and the one who invited us for this experience, wanted us to take part in key parts of celebration. So the first big step to prepare for a ceremony – the village male brigade knots the legs of the ox and butcher it – the festive meat. The wedding ceremony commences with the mutton slaughter, a sacrifice to a bride. The foreheads of the bride and groom painted with blood. Treading down sharply through the plates, a bit of confetti – flower petals and rice for the abundant future, and the fiesta is about to commence. Local boys bring trays layered with fresh simply cooked meat, then the fresh shashlyk made out of just sacrificed mutton.

The wedding is little – around 300 guests only. The male and female sit at different tables. They don’t walk to each other side. Neither they stare at each other. I dare to mess up the rules and sit with the men. Female tables are calm. Women don’t drink. Men are cheerful. They do drink. Alot!

Once the live folk music band is on, the dancing commences – everyone mingles up. Eventually it leads into traditional – as Bek’s aunty explains us – fights. The guests from another village are sent away, the feast must go on.

The week of unexpected tours and feasts – we feel like we well got to taste Azerbaijanese culture. Time to crawl to one of the trucks, and rumble back to Turkey to pick up Iranian visas.