The first few days in Baku
Who wants a quick and un-edited update on my vacation? I hope it's you!
For starters, Turkish Airways is very nice, as is the Istanbul airport, once I worked out that the exchange rate for the lira was no longer the 1.3 million lira to $1 that I remembered. The flight, is really long, however.
I got in Monday night, but as the line for getting my visa took longer than the flight from Istanbul, and given that I am too paranoid to sleep on planes, I did pretty much nothing except hug my father and go to bed. Sadly, given that it was 2 in the afternoon in NYC, this didn't much translate to good sleep. Alas.
Tuesday I got up and wandered along the promenade along the Caspian Sea and tried to get my bearings around the city. There is a lot of construction going on around the city, so there are occasional bizarre detours. The Caspian Sea may not be the most picturesque body of water in the world, but the promenade is lovely, with lots of greenery and cafes and fountains spread around. I then climbed up the Qiz Qalasi (Maiden Tower) to get a view of the city, especially the old city, and got some nice pictures up there. The Maiden Tower is one of those old defensive towers. There was some brief wandering through the outside of the old city before I grabbed some lunch before my Dad got off work to meet me. Lunch was grabbed at one of the doner kebab places in the city, which seems to be the standard grab-and-go food around here. Hard to argue with a lamb sandwich for $2.
(As a side note, in the above words Qiz Qalasi, neither of those are actually the letter I, but the letter in question doesn't exist in English, and I don't want to look it up now.)
My first overall assessment: This city is a hell of a lot like watching the Industrial Revolution. High-rise swanky apartments right next to shack houses. A perpetual scent of tar, sulfur and crude oil. Again, the large amounts of construction, which is combined with a disregard for any sort of planning or long term usage.
Anyway, after Dad got off work he took me wandering around Fountain Square, chunks of which were blocked off by construction. It does have many cafes though, where we stopped for dinner, and tables set up in the street to sell things to tourists. (Nothing that is to my tastes though, which could disappoint Grandma.) The fountains were lovely, and the buildings were gorgeous. (Oh, I need a larger vocabulary of adjective. Or more time to recall them.) I have a stack of pictures that I'm not uploading now because the net is a little slow. (I'd love to go to the Azerbaijan Literature Museum, which has a fantastic, and clearly new, building, but I suspect the entire museum would be lost on me.)
And can I just take a minute to comment on the OMG delicious fresh produce and juices?? Yes, yes I can. Nom nom nom.
Wednesday Dad had the morning off work, so we went off the the Carpet Museum. Seriously, have I mentioned how much I love functional art? I do! Then in the afternoon I grabbed some lunch at a cafe and went to the Art museum.
Actually, you don't want to hear it that way. You want to hear the goofy way. After Dad left, I decided to wander Fountain Square a bit more. Then I headed off towards the art museum, which I knew was up the hill and across from the Presidential Administration. I found the Administration; I couldn't find the Art Museum and started to panic, especially with all the security around. So I stopped for lunch so I could pull out a map and get my bearings. This would have worked better had I not forgotten all the Azeri food words I memorized. But I got fed and then found the museum (it was on a side street). Again, I may have been missing some cultural context. I'm sure there's a story behind the painting entitled “You Are Not Privileged to Wear Crimson.”
Last night I met with some of Dad's friends for a tex-mex night. Enchiladas made with the local flat bread and local cheeses and different spicing is interesting. (Yes, in a good way.) Then we went to the nearby ex-pat Irish pub, with the Azeri/Russian singing covering American classics.
And now I'm going to ignore the fact that my body still thinks it's bedtime, and go out and try to find the historical museum. Again. Wish me luck.
For starters, Turkish Airways is very nice, as is the Istanbul airport, once I worked out that the exchange rate for the lira was no longer the 1.3 million lira to $1 that I remembered. The flight, is really long, however.
I got in Monday night, but as the line for getting my visa took longer than the flight from Istanbul, and given that I am too paranoid to sleep on planes, I did pretty much nothing except hug my father and go to bed. Sadly, given that it was 2 in the afternoon in NYC, this didn't much translate to good sleep. Alas.
Tuesday I got up and wandered along the promenade along the Caspian Sea and tried to get my bearings around the city. There is a lot of construction going on around the city, so there are occasional bizarre detours. The Caspian Sea may not be the most picturesque body of water in the world, but the promenade is lovely, with lots of greenery and cafes and fountains spread around. I then climbed up the Qiz Qalasi (Maiden Tower) to get a view of the city, especially the old city, and got some nice pictures up there. The Maiden Tower is one of those old defensive towers. There was some brief wandering through the outside of the old city before I grabbed some lunch before my Dad got off work to meet me. Lunch was grabbed at one of the doner kebab places in the city, which seems to be the standard grab-and-go food around here. Hard to argue with a lamb sandwich for $2.
(As a side note, in the above words Qiz Qalasi, neither of those are actually the letter I, but the letter in question doesn't exist in English, and I don't want to look it up now.)
My first overall assessment: This city is a hell of a lot like watching the Industrial Revolution. High-rise swanky apartments right next to shack houses. A perpetual scent of tar, sulfur and crude oil. Again, the large amounts of construction, which is combined with a disregard for any sort of planning or long term usage.
Anyway, after Dad got off work he took me wandering around Fountain Square, chunks of which were blocked off by construction. It does have many cafes though, where we stopped for dinner, and tables set up in the street to sell things to tourists. (Nothing that is to my tastes though, which could disappoint Grandma.) The fountains were lovely, and the buildings were gorgeous. (Oh, I need a larger vocabulary of adjective. Or more time to recall them.) I have a stack of pictures that I'm not uploading now because the net is a little slow. (I'd love to go to the Azerbaijan Literature Museum, which has a fantastic, and clearly new, building, but I suspect the entire museum would be lost on me.)
And can I just take a minute to comment on the OMG delicious fresh produce and juices?? Yes, yes I can. Nom nom nom.
Wednesday Dad had the morning off work, so we went off the the Carpet Museum. Seriously, have I mentioned how much I love functional art? I do! Then in the afternoon I grabbed some lunch at a cafe and went to the Art museum.
Actually, you don't want to hear it that way. You want to hear the goofy way. After Dad left, I decided to wander Fountain Square a bit more. Then I headed off towards the art museum, which I knew was up the hill and across from the Presidential Administration. I found the Administration; I couldn't find the Art Museum and started to panic, especially with all the security around. So I stopped for lunch so I could pull out a map and get my bearings. This would have worked better had I not forgotten all the Azeri food words I memorized. But I got fed and then found the museum (it was on a side street). Again, I may have been missing some cultural context. I'm sure there's a story behind the painting entitled “You Are Not Privileged to Wear Crimson.”
Last night I met with some of Dad's friends for a tex-mex night. Enchiladas made with the local flat bread and local cheeses and different spicing is interesting. (Yes, in a good way.) Then we went to the nearby ex-pat Irish pub, with the Azeri/Russian singing covering American classics.
And now I'm going to ignore the fact that my body still thinks it's bedtime, and go out and try to find the historical museum. Again. Wish me luck.