Into the heart of Azerbaijan - Baku to Lahij (Wed 30 April)

And so, after nearly 3 days, it's farewell to Baku. In our even more over-crowded minibus we battle through the utterly chaotic traffic an eventually emerge into a surprisingly verdant landscape. 


We pass through numerous small towns, all of which have one thing in common -large, well-maintained boards containing photos of men set amongst the colours of the Azerbaijani flag. I ask Ruslan what they are; and he confirms my worst suspicions. Each one of these is a man who had died in the numerous conflicts with neighbouring Armenia. They are everywhere, and as our trip went on their frequency didn't diminish.



The road as far as Shamakhi was excellent, and it wasn't long before we arrived at Azerbaijan's largest mosque in the afore-mentioned town. The mosque itself was pleasant but unspectacular. Unfortunately I was comparing it to the one's I'd seen in Istanbul, and the various "Stan's" countries. A bit unfair maybe, but it remained graded at 3C - average effort, average attainment. Pretty much like my school reports, in a good year!

 




Beyond Shamakhi the road quality deteriorated significantly. Across to our right (the east) we started to get our first views of the Caucasus Mountains, complete with snow-capped peaks. Beautiful. After an hour or so we turned off the main road and headed up into the mountains along a snaking single track road. We climbed and climbed - this road was not for the faint-hearted. It had "world's most dangerous roads" written all over it. Luckily we only met a couple of other vehicles coming in the other direction, and within an hour we got to our destination for the night, Lahij. We bumped very slowly along the cobbled main street to the top end of the village where our Lodge was located. The Lodge was a lovely chilled place built on multiple levels. Basic but beautiful.

 

 


The occupants of Lahij are of Persian descent, and the place just felt timeless. We visited one of the Coppersmith's workshops where things were still done the old-fashioned way. This was particularly poignant for Sharon in our group, as her Dad was a Coppersmith. The workshop reminded me of visiting the Old Forge in Great Tew, Oxfordshire many years ago, before the whole village was renovated and gentrified after years of neglect from a tyrannical village squire. Again, timeless! It must have had an impact on me, as I bought a small copper plate; and I don't generally do souvenirs.

 

 

 

 

  



Lahij just dripped character, and was arguably my favourite place on the entire trip. It was excellent for people photography - mostly old boys sitting around playing a local version of dominoes, and drinking tea.


 

 




Dinner at the lodge was preceded by preparing yoghurt and dill for our breakfast the following morning. A new and novel experience for me.

 


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