AzerBAN-JAN

You’ll want me to book your vacations.

Knowing we had a 10 day holiday coming up, Molly, Frances, and I were seeking out cheap airfare to popular destinations in this general part of the world. Not finding much for less than $700, I threw out this little gem of a question: “Could I interest anyone in going to Baku for $250?”

Now if your geography is a little rusty, you might not know that Baku is the capital of Azerbaijan and sits heartily along the lip of the Caspian Sea, east of Turkey and north of Iran. It seemed like an interesting destination… especially considering our other option for the same price was Khartoum, Sudan. It didn’t take much convincing.

Departing from Dubai, our hunch that we had selected a unique travel destination began to solidify. One big clue? The 30 other people on our flight.

Regardless, we arrived quite giggly in the middle of the night to the Heyder Aliyev Airport ready to pay the atrocious tourist visa fee ($131). By the time our visas were processed (which was a matter of hand writing on a sticker), we were the only remaining travelers in the airport. Really.

Our hostel tipped us off to a reasonable rate for a taxi, 20 manats. So when the drivers tried to charge us 50 manats… Frances and Molly were ready to battle. As soon as Molly (inadvertently) sought a ride from a non-licensed driver, the proper taxis quickly dropped their prices yet continued their bursts of disdain in Azeri. Victory. Nice work, ladies.

We easily found our hostel located down a dark narrow alley. The office door wasn’t immediately clear to us. Not knowing what to do, we began knocking on the doors in the small courtyard. It being the middle of the night, we felt a little awkward. The first door to open revealed a Pakistani man, Mr. Haloumi, who didn’t seem to know about a hostel. Upstairs we saw a sign for a different hostel and inquired within. The travelers there also didn’t know about our hostel, but seemed to think it had closed down, and not very recently. Um…? As Frances negotiated with this hostel’s proprietor for couch space, Molly began talking to an American voice in the dark.

Enter Evan. According to Evan, the hostel we had booked is run by two brothers. One brother is the online presence and lives in England. The other brother is the physical presence, and lives in the hostel. Physical brother closed the hostel and rented out the rooms as apartments, without telling online brother. Online brother confirmed our reservations. Physical brother was no where to be found. It seems that so few people actually visit Baku, this was the first time their lack of communication had ever become a problem. It’s comical to think I originally followed our hostel booking with the gem of a sentence, “So that was easy.”

Evan, who was fetched by Mr. Haloumi, is a Fulbright Scholar living in one of the defunct hostel’s rooms (still decked out with bunk beds). He was kind enough to offer us sleep space.

Here begins a surprise tale of happy friendship and adventures based in the ever so slightly drab city of Baku.

xo, jill