Neither Europe nor Asia, Azerbaijan is an incredible tangle of contradictions and contrasts.
Refusing someone offering you tea is a strong indicator you don’t like
that person. When receiving a gift, you’re supposed to refuse a few
times before actually taking it. If you’re offering a present, insist by
all means. Remove your shoes upon entering and don’t display the soles
of your feet. Don’t even think about crossing your legs! Avoid chewing
gum, pointing fingers and randomly touching people. They don’t
appreciate it. Also, never, ever, mention Armenians. You can’t possibly
imagine the reactions you’ll get.
It’s a fascinating
nexus of ancient historical empires. Yet it’s also a new nation finding
its feet as it emerges from a war-torn post-Soviet chrysalis on a
petroleum-funded gust of optimism. Surrounded by semi-desert on the
oil-rich Caspian Sea, the nation’s cosmopolitan capital Baku is a
dynamic boomtown, where flashy limousines and mushrooming skyscrapers
sweep around a picturesque Unesco-listed ancient core. Yet barely three
hours’ drive away lies an entirely different world:
Timeless villages
clad in lush orchards from which shepherd tracks lead into the soaring
high Caucasus mountains. Where Baku is multilingual and go-ahead, the
provinces shuffle to the gently paced click of nard (backgammon)
on tree-shaded teahouse terraces: women stay home, herds of cattle
wander aimlessly across highways, and potbellied bureaucrats scratch
their heads in confusion on finding that an outsider has wandered into
their territory.
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