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Our again, slightly diminished group of famous explorers, having visited Karabakh, is now heading for the Azerbaijani exclave that is Nakhchivan. Plane is the only practical way to get to Nakhchivan, as the Armenian borders are closed. There's a bus, which travels via Iran (!), or you can come overland from the Turkish side. It's not surprising that Nakhchivan has very few visitors from the west. Our domestic flight, across Armenia, is awful. Cloud the whole way and lots of turbulence. Poor Harry holds my hand and tries to distract me.
There's also some trepidation in regards to Nakhchivan Airport. It was hit by a drone in the early stages of Trump's war on Iran, when there was swift and undisciplined retaliation covering countries all around the region. president Ilham Aliyev had words and there have been no further attacks on Azeri territory. The airport terminal is large and modern, with a repair where the drone came through a skylight. Though the buildings around are older style.
The same applies to the diminutive and eponymous city of Nakhchivan. This is no chaotic metropolis; instead, think quiet prestige. It is a carefully curated, boutique capital city. Almost everything - from the banks to the bus stops - is neoclassical, solid, heavy stone buildings, faced with glowing (in the sun) local cream-coloured travertine. The streets are unusually wide and exceptionally well-maintained with large public squares, manicured rose gardens, and a lack of the usual typical urban clutter. There's a high concentration of large, imposing government buildings, which look like they were all built by the same hand.
In short, the impression is sturdy, polished, and calm. It feels like a place that has been very recently - and very thoroughly - swept and polished. And it's very welcoming, despite the rain and the poor visibility.
Back on the bus to explore the historical monuments of Nakhchivan city. The Back of the Coach Mafia are now very well ensconced. They're a bit much for Jala, the very pretty 18 year old assistant guide, who appoints me as her mentor and insists on sitting next to me all the time.
The Nakhchivan Khan Palace dates to 1787, built by Kalbali Khan Kangarli, when the region was divided into Khans. Two storeys high, with eight rooms and a basement, it's unsurprisingly very Persianate, ornate with stained glass windows and a mirror lined chamber. It reminds me of the Shah's Palace in Tehran. The restored building has had several incarnations, most recently, as a carpet museum. There's also an outdoor archaeological museum area.
The Momine Khatun Mausoleum is also right next door to the Khan Palace. This is a twelfth-century (1186) decagonal brick tower, decorated with turquoise tiles and Kufic script, built in honour of the wife of an Ildenizid ruler. It's been restored at the top, it's height reduced form 34 metres to 25, in the process. It's raining too hard to spend much time admiring this gem of eastern architecture and besides, there are more mausoleums to come.
In the south east of the city, Nakhchivan Fortress (or Yezidabad Castle) is an ancient, partially restored seventh-century fortification in the south-eastern part of Nakhchivan City, Azerbaijan. It's mainly restored walls, surrounding a museum of archaeological finds, and local history, making it a prominent historical landmark in the capital. There are tents and stalls scattered around the compound, but it's deserted and we are chased out. It's closed today.
Opposite the fortress is the new Heydar Mosque Complex, inaugurated in 2023. This is suitably impressive, one of the largest mosques in the South Caucasus, capable of accommodating up to 5,000 people. We wait in the drizzle, for someone to open the door, so we can look inside and take pictures of the magnificent dome.
This is the Land of Noah, so the highlight has to be the Tomb of Noah, sandwiched between the fortress and the mosque. Jala, giving her maiden speech is quite happy to acknowledge that Noah's burial place also exists in at least five other countries. He's said to have been deposited at the bottom of a well type structure. Although it's also thought that the Soviets might have moved him. Naturally, no-one is going to look, to check. There are exhibits and a tiny model ark, inside. Outside, great views, out to the Aras River and its floodplain, framed by mountains, would be even better if it wasn't for the clouds, but the rain creates nice reflections, on the tiles.
North to Garabaghlar, almost half way to one of the extremities of this mini republic. Here we have the mausoleum of Koday Hatun, wife of the Khanate ruler Abaka, son of Genghis Khan's grandson. Also partially restored, this one is 30 metres high and has a cylindrical form with twelve semi-circular facets. Ornate and Uzbekistan like, the tomb is dated 1376-1377 and stands with a mosque and a double minareted crown gate. There was once a a large village here, now only these remains survive.
We're staying at what we are assured is the best hotel in town. The Hotel Saatmeydani is certainly opulent enough. Huge colonnaded and lit entertainments area, the Clock Piazza, several restaurants, enormous rooms. There's even a cute cat. It seems churlish to complain that there's no lift. But it gives the Back of the Coach Mafia a chance to show off their muscles, hefting our cases for us.
Our timetable has been rearranged a few times. Yesterday, we were going to the Duzdagh Salt Mines Hospital, but it's full of patients and they can't fit us in. Today, with great sadness, I'm dipping out of the visit to the Machu Picchu of the Caucasus. Twelfth century Alinja Fortress was key in defending the area against sieges by Timur. But it stands up 1500 steps and I'm told you can't see much from the bottom. I've begged a photo (thank you Mette), which hasn't done much to help with the FOMO. It looks like a very worthwhile climb, if you're fit.
Instead, I've joined a smaller party in a car driven by Elmir to head south. We head for the Iranian border (again), navigating an army checkpoint (don't point your cameras this way) to the banks of the Aras River. This restored mausoleum is considered a Seljuk architectural masterpiece, a 12-faceted prism built of polished red stone, set on a stepped pedestal. There's an underground chamber (crypt) and a tower-like structure above it, that is inaccessible. All Islamic mausoleums it seems, are designed for women or dervishes. Again, the area around the tomb was formerly a thriving settlement.
The nearest town now is Julfa, where we stop to see a monument to the World War II dead.
A few kilometres from the city of Julfa, our next stop is Daridag Arsenic Water Treatment Centre, also known as The Daridag Balneological Hospital. There's been a rapid change of landscape - and now we're astonishingly (for such a small place) in semi desert. The striking colourful bands and jagged ridges in The Daridag Mountains, are famous for their candy cane bands, created by alternating layers of sedimentary rocks oxidized into vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges
The centre is billed as a unique spot for health and relaxation, though the strap line isn't very enticing. Arsenic? Bathing in these waters - strictly regulated by the staff is claimed to help the treatment of many diseases: rheumatism and skin conditions (such as scabies, jaundice and pyoderma), nervous disorders and musculoskeletal diseases.
Although the springs themselves were discovered in the fifteenth century, the health resorts did not follow until the mid-twentieth century. The first sanatorium was built here only in 1978, initially comprising just five baths. It's not open at the moment, though we can go inside and make cups of tea. And there's plenty of sulphurous hot water running (It's 52 degrees Celsius.).
Ordubad is the second largest city of Nakhchivan, edging into the most south-easterly point of the enclave. The sights here are the Geysariyya Museum, showcasing local history and culture in an old caravanserai and the Juma Mosque. This is one of the oldest mosques in Azerbaijan.
The return journey to Nakhchivan includes the Ashab-al-Kahf sanctuary, a revered pilgrimage site, in the mountains. It features a natural cave, a mosque, and holy water drops (Damcikhana) and is associated with the 'Seven Sleepers' story in the Quran. But so are sites in Jordan and Ephesus. The site involves a walk up to the cave, offering stunning views of the surrounding landscape, and many more steps.
As the rain clears, we're rewarded with panoramas of the rust coloured and snow capped Lesser Caucasus Mountains. Apricot trees in blossom come into their own against blue skies. Snake Mountain repeatedly raises its lonely head. No-one has ever seen a snake there. Later, from the city, There are glimpses of snow covered Mount Ararat, (Ağrı Dağı), the highest peak in Türkiye. That's where the Bible says that Noah's Ark landed.
Time for a final, late lunch in Nakchivan city. This time it's a restaurant with a garden and photo opportunities. Yesterday, lunch (spiced pumpkin soup and mezze) was a triumph. There was even a delightful toilet to add to my photo collection - with a golden pan, no less. Dinner in a restaurant next to beautifully illuminated bridge.
Nakchivan has become a self sustaining, self efficient and organically minded republic. As a result of Armenian blockade's during the Nagorno-Karabakh War it has learned to feed itself and feed itself well, with organic food. I've read that the streets' extraordinary cleanliness is due to volunteer work done by the exclave’s public-sector employees, on their days off. That's not all, the people are also encouraged to plant trees, when they’re not working or sweeping up the streets. I've also read that this 'voluntary work' (or subbotnik as it was known in Soviet times) is actually compulsory. It goes with the job. This despite the soaring GDP, a result of Baku's oil money. It's an enigma. Now the rulers of this exclave have had their wings clipped by Baku (is this still an autonomous republic?), perhaps more visitors will get a chance to enjoy this pristine land and decide for themselves.
On the flight back to Baku (which is much smoother) Nakchivan teacher Anna, interrogates me about my trip and feeds me more Nowruz goodies.
Read more about Azerbaijan here.
I wrote, in 2022, that my trip to Nagorno Karabakh was a once in a lifetime experience. It turns out it's not, as I've been asked to go again. My invitation has come again from Harry Mitsidis, (arguably the best travelled person in the world, and founder of NomadMania, the website that serves the most well-travelled folk in the world). Last time it was Harry's fiftieth birthday, this time he's retiring (he says) and this is to celebrate him transitioning to a quieter life (he says). Nagorno Karabakh, now known as just Karabakh, is still a decidedly off limits travel destination. Access is highly restricted and generally advised against by most governments (it's on the FCDO don't go list) due to serious landmine risks and strict Azerbaijani authorization requirements, And there are going to be 80 or so fêted travellers attending NomadMania Shusha 26. How could I say no?
Its not the most auspicious of flights, on Azerbaijan Airways. The stewardesses who don’t speak English, but look polished and lovely, shower me with water droplets and lemon slices. accidentally I hope. There’s a huge queue for the toilet. After 15 minutes a young man emerges with a book.
Immigration is a breeze. I have my e visa and the hotel is supposed to be sending me a a taxi, to take me back to the area near the old city, which I know from past experience is difficult to navigate. Except they don’t. So I take an airport taxi. And, true to form, the driver can't find the De Verneuil Hotel. To be fair, the whole of the new old city, to the north of the walled area, is closed off. They are replanning the roads, laying new blocks, putting in new trees. The works. The whole is builders’ dust, cement piles, plastic sheeting and narrow wobbly wooden walkways. It's no place to bring a wheelie bag. Or two.
To cut a long story short I spend two very fretful hours wandering around, in the dark, with the heroic assistance of a young Azeri couple. The hotel does not answer their phone.
They eventually reply to a message. They are closed! Words fail me. They say they tried to call me today. Just a trifle late, in my opinion. I'm directed to another establishment, which is full. But they take me to yet another. I'm promised a discount for my trouble. The receptionist still tries to charge me full list price – I check on Booking.com. This is is possibly my worst city arrival ever. But my credit card statement says that he has posted the amount in manat (the Azeri currency) rather than US dollars. So he's accidentally given me a half price deal anyway.
Next day isn't promising either. No breakfast here. Or in the hotel round the corner where I'm directed. The receptionist there marches me back and then I'm taken to still another hotel. It's amazing how many there are hidden behind the facades of the grand buildings in this area. Their signs are all inside the doors. I'm surprised anyone can find any of them.
This is my third visit to Baku, but my first opportunity to have a wander alone. None of the hotels have tourist maps. I'm not astonished. I'm directed to the tourist office, but that’s closed. It may open later. Maybe.
So, working off my Google download, it turns out I'm on Nizami Street, a major pedestrian and shopping boulevard in downtown Baku. Named after the classical Persian poet Nizami Ganjavi, it's famous for its grand nineteenth-century architecture, luxury boutiques (one of the most expensive streets in Southeast Europe), and lively atmosphere. Well, there's not much of that in evidence today.
I wander through the rubble, down to Fountain Square, the central area of the city. The fountain isn’t working and there’s a man standing in the water clearing it. The Azeris are not exactly friendly, pragmatic veering to pessimistic. The women generally modestly clothed, in western style outfits; the masculine uniform hasn’t changed. Black leather jackets and jeans are almost mandatory.
Round almond paste buns were distributed liberally on my flight. These are to celebrate Novruz Bayrami, the Iranian New Year festival, also recognized increasingly in other neighbouring countries. In Azerbaijan, the primary Novruz holiday period is usually March 20–24. However, due to several holidays overlapping with weekends this year, including the end of Ramadan, I've arrived to find the country is currently observing an extended 11-day non-working period that runs from March 20 through March 30, 2026. Wow! It's like Christmas.
Around Fountain Square, colourful Nowruz bazaars bedecked with bunting, balloons and flowers. Again, think Christmas, the little market booths that appear then, but with a spring theme. The most common decorations are large 'Semeni' (green sprouts representing spring), traditionally bound with a ribbon. There are also traditional Azerbaijani Novruz sweets like shakarbura (crescent-shaped pastries) and coloured eggs.
South, through the walled gates into the old city proper. Another Nowruz Market. Attractive outdoor cafes beckon. If they don’t, then their owner does. Sitting at a table in the sun quickly lightens my mood.
Time to set off, to join my group. The Boulevard Marriott is a decided improvement. And I have a great view of the bay and the Flames from my room. Old friends from my last trip four years ago are here: Sal, Per, Orest, Daniel, Boris. Mette from the Executive Committee and Harry too. It's good to catch up with old faces.
Fifty or so of us pile onto a coach to make (for me) a return visit to the Zoroastrian Ateshgah Temple. American Harris helps me to recreate the photo that Shane took last time. Then, a city tour which is typically slow, due to the rush hour traffic. Past the fields of nodding donkeys and through The White City reconstructed from the industrial Black City. The F1 monument - there's a Grand Prix here annually. The Zaha Hadid building. It's impossible to take photos that aren't blurred, through the coach windows.
To Mehraj (most famous Azeri traveller and expedition organiser)'s restaurant, Gizil Baligh, where the food keeps flowing. Salads, cheeses, bread and filled pide type flat pasty/ pancakes. Various kebabs made of beef and lamb. I think that must be the end and I'm stuffed. But no, now it's chicken and chips. Followed by a huge and very sweet NomadMania Shusha 26 cake. We’ve also been given goodie bags containing a travel legends booklet, incorporating all our biographies, Shusha 2026 tee shirts, maps of the old city (just what I needed earlier), badges and key rings, all bearing the logo 'I did it in Azerbaijan'. I should be so lucky.
Time for a refresher on the geopolitics of Karabakh. This is reinforced by visits to the open-air War Trophies Museum and the newly opened Victory Museum. The Military Trophy Park opened in April 2021, to showcase over 300 pieces of military equipment, including tanks, armoured vehicles, and weaponry, captured from Armenian forces, during the 2020 Karabakh War. There are even model trenches, cut out of the ground. It's an interesting contrast with the futuristic hotels and business centres, on the skyline.
The Zefer Muzeyi (Victory Museum) is a monument-complex, opened in 2024 also celebrating Azerbaijan’s victory in the 2020 Second Karabakh War. The 44 columns of the towering arch, at the entrance to Victory Park, represent the 44-day war. Inside, teh main museum, there are eight exhibition halls, 'Iron Fist' installations, and 'Talking Photographs' honouring the dead.
Regular readers of this column will know that I am not fond of war museums. Fortunately, we spend most of the time chatting and catching up with old friends and just scanning the exhibits. There are 64 so called UN Masters, here, people who have been to every country in the world, from 40 different sovereign states. I'm told that's a world record. There are 540 people in total, I'm told, who claim to have done this and 440 verified claims. So, I'm in good company. We have our picture taken as a group, wearing our award tee shirts. And without our special tee shirts. and outside a lot of places. I've spared you most of them.
Tonight's dinner reminds us about the background to Karabakh (again) and congratulates Harry on his retirement. We all have to make awkward short speeches about our travels. And there are more group photos.
Then, we are off to return to Karabakh. Most of the 50 or so of us on this part of the expedition are on a bus, the new Victory Road being deemed to have improved enough to take large vehicles. One coach, one minibus and a handful of cars. And, we still have our police escort, sweeping past cars, as far as possible, on the single lane each side of the road, once we leave the coast. Most of the traffic still Lada cars, square and nostalgia inducing.
It's a cloudy day, so Karabakh is not shown to best effect, the mountains gloomy, with almost no traces of snow, now it's early Spring.
First stop, this visit, is the former ghost town of Agdam, where it is now possible to visit by train, from Baku, and even stay at a new Hilton Garden Inn. Through Yevkhalax, sheep on the roadside verges. Flat fields of rape, just coming into blossom. Steeply angled tin roofs on squat houses. Lada cars still proliferate, out here in the rural areas. These are interspersed with modern complexes, mostly named after the president. And stone built mock manor or castle style hotels and restaurants. Crenellations and turrets are popular.
Agdam, the gateway to Karabakh is very different, now partially reconstructed. The nineteenth-century Juma Mosque is no longer a shell. The new apartment blocks are free to return to, if you can prove your family connection. 1100 people have now returned; there were 50000 originally. But this was one of the most heavily mined areas and warning signs still proliferate, even in the town itself. There is a colourful mosaic on the wall of the ruined Bakery Museum. It's a curious atmosphere, the stark contrast of new flats being built behind the ruins, left as they were. It makes it difficult to shake off the shock of what has happened to this town, a bleak phoenix, with the ashes still remaining.
There's a new road from Agdam to Susa – this is a surprise even to the drivers on our convoy. The new road is a dual carriageway. Well, for a while. but then we are into the construction zone. A plethora (or a rumble?) of JCBs.
En route, we stop at the brand new (still being constructed) Khojaly Monument. The Khojaly Massacre was the largest single massacre of the entire Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. In early 1992, Armenian forces, along with some troops of the 366th CIS (ex Soviet) regiment, took the town, after a blockade and, in the process, committed the mass killing of Azerbaijani civilians. The death toll given by the Azerbaijani authorities is 613 civilians, including 106 women and 63 children. Human Rights Watch say at least 200 Azerbaijanis were killed, though as many as 500–1,000 may have died either from fighting or the aftermath and cold.
Khankendi definitely wasn't on the programme last time. It was in Armenian hands, known as Stepanakert, the capital of the self-proclaimed Republic of Artsakh. In September 2023, the city came under full Azerbaijani control, resulting in the exodus of its Armenian population of around 100,000. There's been more rebuilding, a university and the city is currently being resettled by Azerbaijanis.
We're not allowed to mention the Armenian name. And we're not allowed to take photographs, in case they include any of the many properties over which there are legal issues about disrupted ownership. So, we haven’t been there, or seen the stadium, or the town hall or the Victory Arch, in Victory Park. Just to make sure I've removed anything that looks remotely like a private dwelling from these images. The 'We Are Our Mountains' monument, also known colloquially as 'Tatik-Papik' (Grandma and Grandpa) is also contentious. It's red volcanic tuff and Armenian, originally intended to celebrate peace. There are ongoing calls for it to be removed.
It's the turn of Shusha to be visited as the light fades. The Soviet era mountain is same, but different. The statues, the town hall, the fortress with Shusha in bold red, up top, are still there. The Shusha banners have gone, replaced by a huge welcome sign. The upper mosque has been renovated and there are new apartment blocks. However, it's still a work in progress, a mixture of modern, cleared areas and ruins.
Lachin, along with villages like Aghavno, sat inside the original five-kilometre-wide corridor which linked Armenia with Karabakh. It was monitored by Russian peacekeepers, who escorted us through, on our last visit. In August 2022, Azerbaijan reclaimed control of the town of Lachin, and the old road passing through it was abandoned. The new, wider route bypasses the city, allowing traffic to go to Karabakh without going through the urban area.
The drive to Lachin is long and tortuous, on old roads, or new ones that haven’t been completed. I can't really see, in the dark. It's tough for the driver, especially as the convoy takes the wrong turning (none of us can understand why, as we are following the route on Google ) and the coach has to make a U turn on the narrow highway.
Eventually we arrive and it's time for bed huzzah. Except no, it's a restaurant in town first, for a slightly bizarre supper of soup and dolmades. When it's finally achieved we discover a swanky spa resort, complete with golf buggies. Very much an improvement on the accommodation from last visit, decorated beautifully for the holidays. But it's bathed in mist and in the morning it's full on rain.
I'm told that Lacin is a pretty town. I'll have to accept that piece of information. Running for cover, two art galleries and two ceramics displays. Again. it's a good moment for a chat.
South, to spend the rest of the day meandering along the newly established borders between Azerbaijan and Armenia. No-one crosses here and the original line land borders here have been closed since the 1990s. No matter, it's difficult enough to take decent pictures from a moving bus, but when the windows are covered in water droplets, it's impossible to see anything.
Here, there's a network of new roads and tunnels, along the border with Iran, leading to Armenia. The East Zangezur Corridor. We stop frequently for views across to everyday life in Iran the other side of the river Aras. Photos are forbidden here, on the grounds that army border points are secret and the Iranians of course are skittish, already being at war with the USA and Israel. Though the many journalists not to mention the drivers don't seem to be included in that ban. The main tunnel is closed on one side. And there's no other cover, for a bush toilet. The sign is large enough to duck behind.
At the far end of the tunnel is the tripoint between the three countries. This is where the proposed ‘Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity,’ linking Azerbaijan through Armenia to Nakhchivan and beyond, would begin.
Back to Baku via Fusili, which now has an airport, a few apartment blocks and a supermarket. Again, it must be weird, living in characterless houses identical to everyone else, all modern and very utilitarian, amongst a bleak landscape, dotted with ruins.
The media have tracked our visit again. At most stops we are met with a host of pretty young girls waving microphones. But less energetically than last time. No press conferences, on this occasion. There have been maybe 20 other groups visiting since then. But it's still a novelty to watch ourselves on the television each night. Now it's time to leave Baku and the media behind and venture to the exclave of Nakhchivan. Reza, the photographer we met last time, has not been around on this trip. But he does have an exhibition of his wonderful photographs, at the airport.
Read more about Azerbaijan here.
I’m Over the Moon (I never thought I would actually utilise this overdone idiom, but in this case it’s almost true), as I’ve been asked to tour Nagorno Karabakh this week. In fact, it’s doubly exciting. My invitation has come from Harry Mitsidis, arguably the best travelled person in the world, and founder of NomadMania, the website that serves the most well-travelled folk in the world. To my mind, this is elite company. And Nagorno Karabakh is, currently, a decidedly off limits travel destination. No-one is allowed in, except the military, supply vehicles and construction workers.
So, I’ve travelled via Istanbul and now I'm back in the plate glass and steel of Baku, the oil backed capital of Azerbaijan. Twenty five travellers (including me), mostly bloggers and You-tubers are converging on the Sunday Hotel in the labyrinthine old town, which my taxi driver can't find, without half an hours' worth of conversations with locals.
They all look so energetic and fit (in both senses of the word). Tall, blond Viking Gustav (@gus1thego), from Denmark has a following of nearly a quarter of a million on You-tube. There are only five women, including me. Very Hungry Nomads, Rach and Marty, who have done one less country (187) and have a following of 20,000, Milana, who manages the NomadMania office from Warsaw, and Hungarian Ildiko, who has visited every country in the world. I’m in awe.
First off, a welcome dinner and trip briefing in a Baku restaurant. The food keeps coming and coming. Mezze with salads and a variety of breads, roast salmon with plaited potatoes, tender liver and succulent kebabs, barbecued lamb. And my favourite, crispy rice pots with apricots and sweet chestnuts.
Perhaps more importantly, it’s Harry’s fiftieth birthday (or it was yesterday). The Nomads have created a video wishing him well. Naturally, some far flung areas of the world are represented. Harry is visibly touched and grateful. But the celebrations don’t end there, or with the sticky chocolate cake decorated with flares and the NomadMania logo. Harry has, aspirationally, requested that Aygun attends to provide the entertainment. And, to his astonishment, she does.
Wikipedia says that Aygun Kazimova is a well known singer in Azerbaijan, Turkey and Russia. (Actually, I’m told, she is the most famous and successful female singer in Azerbaijan). She’s also an actor and songwriter and has dueted with Snoop Dogg. Whatever, she is a consummate professional, interacting wholeheartedly with her audience. The singing is fabulous and everyone is soon dancing and partying. Harry is, literally, having the time of his life.
Back to the hotel, at midnight.
We convene at 5.45 in the morning. A convoy of 11 land cruisers, headed by a police car, complete with blue flashing warning lights. There’s an accompanying clicking of amber indicators to indicate our importance to bemused motorists, as we stream out of Baku, parallel to the Caspian Sea and through the plain of oil fields to the south. Most of the drivers take no notice, though one or two tuck in between us, sneakily taking advantage of our clear road.
Then west and into Karabakh. President Aliyev has already built a new six-lane 100-kilometre highway, from Fuzuli (where there’s a spanking brand new international airport) part-way to the town of Shusha. Then, we wind up into the mountains. It’s immediately apparent that this a hauntingly beautiful land. Hilltops laced with delicate icing sugar coated trees, giving way to snow blanketed slopes.
That's the background. Emotions are still riding high on both sides. There are ongoing arguments over captives still held and dead bodies not returned. Both parties continue to revisit the horrors of the war, atrocities and devastation via various forms of media. And here I am in Shusha, to see for myself.
Shusha nestles at over 1500 metres, once a soviet mountain resort. Between May 1992 and November 2020, Shusha was under the de facto control of Artsakh and administered as the centre of its Shushi Province. It is now a bleak, almost ghost town. The displaced peoples of the war have left devastation behind. Ruined buildings, poking through the trees, like mini Roman amphitheatres. We are told that, here and elsewhere, ejected Armenians looted the houses, removed the roofs and doors and sold them. In some areas, the buildings have been levelled.
Ownership of the town of Shusha has been hugely significant, as it has religious, cultural and strategic importance for both groups. It is usually considered to be the cradle of Azerbaijani culture - especially music and poetry. The old fortress walls and gate remain, but elsewhere busts are riddled with bullet holes. Bart, from the Netherlands (@offbeattravelling) points out the indentations. The cultural significance of Shusha is reinforced by a visit to the home of Murtuza Bulbul, a famous Azerbaijani and Soviet opera tenor.
Renowned Iranian photographer Reza gives a fascinating presentation, which explains how the main square in Shusha once looked. The Azeris complain bitterly about the destruction of their cultural hall and damage to mosques. These are boarded off, for renovation. However, Shusha also contains several Armenian Apostolic churches, and there are concerns that these, in their turn, have also been desecrated.
It transpires that our convoy is larger than I had imagined. We’re being accompanied by a media bus and journalists, representing all the major Azeri TV channels. We’ve hardly alighted from our 4WDs before being marched off to answer questions about our impressions of Shusha. I repeat my speech three times in front of different microphones. I hardly know what to say. I’ve only been here five minutes and I don’t feel fully informed. The vloggers are more adept. They've leapt out, launching their drones and waving their cell phones. It's Selfie Central.
Back in the land cruisers, we gain further height and the carpets of snow thicken. But it’s already been a long day. Stops by the roadside and more interviews consume the hours. There's a longer halt at Hunot Gorge, where we peer over the edge, alongside camouflaged sentries. It’s dusk when we arrive at Agdam and our city tour has to be abandoned. This one of the world's most famous ghost towns, looted, destroyed and left in ruins for three decades.
We gather at the under renovation mosque, the only building left standing in the town, which was once home to 50,000. Another explanation from Reza. He has horrifying and exceptionally moving images of shocked civilians and the Armenian atrocities.
This is what Wikipedia has to say about Agdam:
'HRW (Human Rights Watch) considered these actions serious violations of the rules of war, but noted that given the tit-for-tat nature of the conflict, it considered the actions of Agdam Armenian forces a revenge for the Azeri destruction of Mardakert, which, according to Thomas Goltz, who was in Mardakert in September 1992, became a "a pile of rubble", noting "more intimate detritus of destroyed private lives: pots and pans, suitcases leaking sullied clothes, crushed baby strollers and even family portraits, still in shattered frames'.
Also:
BBC journalist Roy Parsons reported that "every single Azeri house in the town was blown up to discourage return" as during the war, the Azeris used Agdam as a base from which to shell Karabakh and the Armenians could not trust them not to do it again.
Bed for the night is in a cottage, in the grounds of a hotel, another three hours further on, in Toghana. We arrive for dinner at 10.15. Another update and I’m eventually able to try to sleep, just after midnight. It’s not easy. I don’t think the room has been occupied for many weeks and the bedding is icy cold. Milana and boyfriend Daniel, ensconced in the master bedroom next door, have kindly given me the only fan heater in the building. It’s waging a futile battle against the draughts.
Today, right into Karabakh and the district of Kalbajar. An ongoing procession of ruins. And a mixture of frustration and delight. Long stops whilst vehicles are refuelled - they have to summon a tanker and wait in line, a flat tyre (from shrapnel it’s alleged) and the requirements (and whims) of security. The scenery, however, as we chug up to the top of a pass, is spectacular. We've climbed to a height of 3350 metres, the temperature an eye watering minus 12 and a switchback of hairpin bends down the other side. The Murov Mountains are the highest in the Lesser Caucasus.
Through an automobile tunnel hewn out of the rock. No concessions to artistic merit here. And a military camp stop for tea in the refectory. We queue up to use the bathroom in some poor soldier's room . I don't think he's been asked. The troops are very nervous of the cameras and slide out of sight if they see one. Harry reminds us, firmly, that we must not publish images that enable servicemen to be recognised. It's a shame. They have very impressive Dr Zhivago style fur hats. Some of the drivers oblige by lining up for a picture instead.
And another delight: gurgling hot springs in a river valley at Istisu. This was, historically, a resort town, and during the Soviet period, it attracted people from all over the USSR, to be treated at the mineral-springs baths. There were even plans to bottle the water. It's a welcome steaming fountain ringed by emerald patterned rocks, a flattened dinosaur. (The picture of me here was taken by Boris Kester @boris_traveladventures - he's visited every country in the world. And thank you Boris, for the editing.)
And into the Lachin Corridor where, as agreed in the peace settlement, the Russians preside over a long wide valley. Russian and Azeri flags flutter, there are tanks and personnel carriers under camouflage netting. and we are (even more strongly) forbidden to take photographs. Straight faced and grave, the Russian soldiers search our bags and cars thoroughly. It’s a long interlude. Alongside the road, scarlet signs warn of mines. And I desperately want to go to the toilet. Boris and Max, from Vienna (@maxlayerer, scarf artistically draped round his head), do the honours and bravely check the (too) steep scrub is safe.
There are mixed views on the Russian peace keeping mission. After the 2020 war, the front line has become longer and more volatile than before. Opposing military positions are separated from one another by only 30 -100 metres. So, this is an important job. Russia of course, enjoys this foot hold. However, its justification relies on a well-functioning territory, with a large civilian population. At the moment, what remains of Karabakh in Armenian hands struggles for economic viability, as most of its routes to Armenia have disappeared.
The Lachin Corridor (five kilometres wide) currently provides the only connection between Nagorno-Karabakh and Armenia - we cross the dusty road to Armenia, wiggling away into the distance. It’s an impressive valley drive and there are caves on the further side. My driver politely forbids me, still, from taking any pictures. We are being tailed by a Russian vehicle, flag waving as the convoy moves through their jurisdiction. Every two minutes tense Russian guards at different checkpoints count the number of cars and mark us all present on their forms.
There are unconfirmed reports that Moscow is considering giving the Karabakh Armenians Russian passports, as it has, for example, to the residents of Transnistria, in Moldova.
It's late again, by the time we arrive at our lodging. The lights of Iran are twinkling in the distance. Tonight, it’s a military barracks. It takes half an hour to find it. The police car obviously doesn’t have GPS here and it’s comic watching 11 cars reverse and do U turns several times in unison. Dinner is at 10.45.
I’ve done well with room allocations; the barracks is surprisingly modern and warm. (There's a rumour the poor soldiers have had to sleep outside so we can be accommodated). I’m sharing with just one Azeri lady, a travel agent. Though she does set her alarm for five a.m.
As dawn breaks, we’re being interviewed by journalists once again. Parked above a newly built 'smart city' we were supposed to see yesterday. Smart villages are intended to introduce agriculture based on 'modern technologies and joint management and control,' but, the concept goes beyond simply farming methods. It also includes ‘smart’ street lighting, cold- and heat-resistant homes, management of household waste, the installation of hydro and solar power stations and biogas energy. The idea has had a mixed reaction. There are concerns around ownership and corruption. And these urban-type settlements, may not be popular with returnees who hanker for their old houses.
Down here, in the south, east of the Zangezur mountains, the Azeris and Turks are most excited about the opening of the so called Zangezur Corridor. Road and rail links will establish a direct link between Azerbaijan and the Azeri exclave of Nakchivan, currently divided by Armenian land. The possibilities of enhanced links with Turkey and with Europe beckon.
We stop on the newly built railway line for a final exposition from Reza, who is pursued along the track by his drone.
Exiting Karabakh, finally, we halt at Bilasuvar, a small Azeri town. There’s a square, with a monument to Heydar Aliyev, who’s often known as the 'father of the Azeri nation’. He’s also the father of the current president, Ilham Aliyev.
This is what it’s like to be a celebrity. I’ve been doing some royal family style waving as we have proceeded and Azeri guards have all saluted to acknowledge us, as we speed past. Here, most of the town comes to halt. Small boys giggle excitedly and stare as they pose with Gustav. The mayor emerges from the municipal buildings to greet us, his eyes widening, as he realises that we are those people who have been on the TV news this week. We’re all invited to welcome refreshments, in a café, on the edge of the square.
Back in Baku. In the late afternoon, a meeting with Hikmat Hajiyev, the high profile Assistant of the President of the Republic of Azerbaijan and Head of the Foreign Policy Affairs Department of the Presidential Administration. This is what appears on Twitter:
'Very pleased to meet with NomadMania travellers and bloggers group who visited the all liberated territories within 3 days long intense schedule. We talked about post-conflict developments in the South Caucasus, Azerbaijan's agenda of peace and prospects of normalization with Armenia'
For my part, I’m happy to hear talk about ways forward, rather than dwelling on the past. Mr. Hajiyev brings up the challenges of reconstruction and returning Azeris comfortably and safely, 'in a dignified manner'. The government are building on a previous official seventy-two-page programme from 2008, entitled “Big Recovery” which makes it clear how large the challenge is. It documents plans to rebuild 751 settlements over 11,500 square kilometres and resettle up to 570,000 people. Extensive refurbishment of utilities, and reconstruction is needed before former residents can return, something that could take several years. Mr Hajiyev mentions employment, education and universities which provide courses that focus on the needs of the area. (Like oil studies in Texas.). There is mineral wealth in Karabakh and opportunities for green energy. Plans also include the building of more smart cities.
Mines are a huge issue. There are millions of them and maps are unreliable. Energy and other resources are problematic. The capital of Artsakh, Stepanakert (which Azerbaijanis call Khankendi) and Shusha, which used to rely on one another for water and electricity, are now in rival hands. The biggest challenge, however, is probably finance. Azerbaijan is in a difficult economic climate, with falling oil production and the global pandemic. The conflict has also weakened Nagorno Karabakh’s economy.
Nevertheless, Mr Hajiyev is upbeat, as he addresses concerns that Azeris may not wish to return to Karabakh. Displaced peoples have, for nearly thirty years carved out a new urban style existence, which might be comfortable and habituated. Mr Hajiyev believes that the peoples remain attached to their land, even if they have been away some time. Reza joins in: ‘They were displaced against their will and without their possessions, but they took their key’.
These points are reiterated at a press conference in the Trend News Agency building – we are described as ‘famous travellers’ in the ensuing news bulletins. I’m very grateful and feel privileged to have been included in such a trip. We fervently hope that both sides can put the horrors of the war behind them and move on. There are challenging, but huge possibilities and opening up, internationally, both physically and diplomatically, will hopefully lead to the necessary support required.
'When we visit these regions in 10 years, we hope to see big hotels, smart villages, and developed economic spaces. I expect Karabakh to become a new bridge between Azerbaijan and Europe. More people should visit and discover Azerbaijan,' says Harry.
Read more about Azerbaijan here.
I'm on the Golden Eagle Train travelling from Yerevan to Almaty. Except that we weren't allowed to use the train in Armenia, as the Azeris wouldn't then allow it into Azerbaijan. The Azeri police have been on the train, confined us to our cabins and taken our pictures and we’ve been allowed into Azerbaijan, from Georgia. The train is actually moving properly, across country, towards Baku now, though I still haven’t been able to see anything out of the window. The rails seem in even worse shape than before and the jolting is erratic and uncomfortable. I’m shaken awake every ten minutes or so.
Baku isn’t just the capital and largest city of Azerbaijan, it’s the only large city in Azerbaijan. 25% of Azerbaijan’s eight million people live here. Perhaps more excitingly, it is located 28 metres below sea level, which makes it the lowest lying national capital in the world, and also the largest city in the world, located below sea level.
The script here in Azerbaijan is very similar to Turkish and their Turkish heritage is very obvious in the Azeri physique. They are solid and swarthy people. Guide Elvin is very patriotic. He boasts happily about the hosting of the Eurovision song contest in 2012, the European ‘Olympic’ Games, in 2012, the fourth Islamic Solidarity Games, the European Grand Prix in 2016, and so on.
Baku, we’re told, is famed for its medieval walled inner city, Icheri Sheher It's a labyrinth of narrow one way streets, so complicated that my taxi driver can't find my hotel, when I make a return visit to Baku. Ottoman meets oriental. Other than the overhanging balconies, Turkish cumba style, it reminds me of Uzbekistan. Carpets fluttering and all manner of metallic objects arranged in order to entice the tourist into thinking they might actually need one of these. Large furry hats. One manat a photo. Mosques aplenty. It's very chic, tourist orientated, with boutique hotels, fancy art galleries, teeny cafes with samovars and bijou shops, carved from old caravanserai. And it's very restored.
Within the city walls, we visit the Palace of the Shirvanshahs, a royal retreat dating to the fifteenth century, and the centuries-old stone Maiden Tower, which dominates the city skyline. They were inscribed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, in 2000.
The Palace of the Shirvanshahs originally served as the Baku fortress stronghold, surrounded by a wall with towers. There are burial-vaults, the shah's mosque with a minaret, Seyid Yahya Bakuvi's mausoleum (the so-called 'mausoleum of the dervish'), gates, a reservoir and the remnants of a bath house. Outside, colourful several statues, including the eye-catching 'Seven Beauties' sculpture created by Nail Alakbarov. It represents seven traditional Azerbaijani tea glasses, known as armudu, stacked on top of each other. The design is inspired by the poem 'Seven Beauties', by the famous Azerbaijani poet Nizami Ganjavi.
The Maiden Tower is satisfyingly shrouded in mystery. It's the emblem of Baku, but no-one is quite sure how old it is or why it was built. It's generally described as twelfth century, but some scholars argue that parts of it, at least, date back to 600 AD.
A little further away, Martyrs' Lane or Alley of Martyrs, formerly known as Kirov Park, is a memorial (with tombs) dedicated to those killed by the Soviet Army, during Black January 1990 and the First Nagorno-Karabakh War of 1988–1994.
North and around the old city, still plenty of historic buildings. Baku is one of many cities which has attempted to adopt the moniker 'Paris of the East'. The city, especially the centre, saw rapid development, with eclectic styles, including Art Nouveau, Italian Renaissance, and Gothic-influenced stone mansions, more latterly fuelled by the oil boom. Various sleek museums (The National Museum of Azerbaijani Literature is named after Nizami Ganjavi and features a series of arches, containing statues of six prominent Azerbaijani writers and poets).
There are more statues of musicians and writers around Sabir's Garden, between Fountain Square and the Old City. This is also home to the Ismailiyya Building, a Venetian Gothic-style palace completed in 1913. That's currently 'the Presidium of the Azerbaijan National Academy of Sciences'. And plenty of fountains, most notably, of course, in Fountain Square.
Monumental socialist buildings, a hangover from the Soviet Period are also common, with the Government House being a major example. Baku is the epitome of the Fusion City as oil money continues to be lavished on architects, plate glass and steel. The highway from the airport is lined with huge stadia, monuments and mosques. In the city proper, endless arcades, with high end shop names decorating the facades, a TV tower, and games/Eurovision song contest venues, shopping malls (one a flowery nod to Sydney opera house) and, The Flames. The latter are three towers that dominate the sky line and are appropriately illuminated at night. The whole is perched above grand esplanades that line the Caspian Sea. We’re also told by guide Elvin that Baku means 'City of Winds', so Chicago has a rival. It’s living up to its name today.
According to the Lonely Planet's ranking, Baku is also among the world's top ten destinations for urban nightlife. If you have time and energy. And my prayers have been answered. The Four Seasons Hotel is eminently comfortable. I could fit about six railway cabins into my room and I have a view of the old town and The Flames, in all their glory. What’s more, the bed is huge and doesn’t jolt.
Baku is divided into 48 townships. This includes the Town of Oil Rocks built on stilts in the Caspian Sea, 60 kilometres away from Baku. We're looking out across, to here, as we drive south-west, out of Baku. Sangachal, to our left is one of the world's biggest oil and gas terminals. Around us a veritable sea of rigs, derricks, platforms firework like flares and nodding donkeys of all ages, ranging from Victorian, through Soviet to modern day. It’s not the most scenic of outlooks, almost surreal. One of the oil fields featured in James Bond - The World is Not Enough.
More development is planned. The Khazar Islands project is said to be inspired by the man-made islands of Dubai. Ambitious plans, I'm told, are futuristic, including several skyscrapers and the world's tallest tower. But nothing is happening at the moment. Everything was put on hold during the recession in 2015. There’s also a huge ‘debate’ going on over whether the Caspian is a lake or a sea. This affects the apportionment of ownership by the five countries that abut the Caspian, and therefore rights to all the oil and gas.
The oil, of course, is the source of Azerbaijan’s wealth. The most obvious benefit is that it costs astonishingly little to fill up your tank here. Otherwise, Baku is a very expensive city to live in, as it accommodates many well paid oil and gas workers. The view from the landing plane is seashore, lined with wedding cake villas, incongruously nestled in front of the grim brown oilfields. It's a different matter, however, for those who live in rural areas, where the recession has hit the hardest. Up to 50 percent of the population overall are thought to live below the poverty line.
Next, we discover why Azerbaijani is known as the Land of (Eternal) Fire. The most well-known of Azerbaijan’s volcanoes, is Yanar Dag, also known as ‘Burning Mountain’. True to its name, in turn, a patch at the bottom of the slope on this mountain has been burning for as long as anyone can remember. Sometimes the flames leap up to three metres high. The fire is very welcome in the chill of the wind and cloud. We’re informed it’s natural gas, that's alight. The mountain is right in the centre of the oil fields..
Based on Persian and Indian inscriptions, the Ateshgah Temple was used as a Hindu, Sikh, and Zoroastrian place of worship. (Ātash is the Persian word for fire). The pentagonal complex, which has a courtyard surrounded by cells for monks and a tetrapillar-altar in the middle, was built during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It was abandoned in the late nineteenth century, probably due to the dwindling of the Indian population in the area. It's surrounded by a castle like wall.
The natural eternal flame went out in 1969, despite five years of praying to the gods for it to return. They now have to pipe in the gas from the city instead.
Gobustan Park, also a UNESCO site, is the home of precarious trails, singing rocks and caves housing Stone Age petroglyphs. It has more than 6,000 rock carvings, depicting people, animals, battle-pieces, ritual dances, bullfights, boats with armed oarsmen, warriors with lances in their hands and camel caravans, not to mention the sun and stars. There's even a shaman, denoted by his hat and an extinct auroch. They date back between 5,000 and 20,000 years. According to Elvin, Azerbaijan is more or less the main home of early man, the first stopping point after emerging from Africa. Passenger Shane dubs it ‘Lucy’s First Truck Stop’.
Azerbaijan is home to half of the world’s population of mud volcanoes. So, naturally we have petitioned to have them added to today’s tour. And it's the highlight of the expedition. We have to proceed in ancient taxis (Ladas proliferate in the Caucasus) and we speed off road, rally driver style, to the patch of mini volcanoes, once more located in the middle of the oil fields. It’s like being on the moon (I imagine).
The bubbling cones and mud flows are fascinating. Mud volcanoes may range in size from merely one or two metres high and one or two metres wide, to 700 metres high and 10 kilometre tall. These are mostly at the bottom of the range. and so are also, evocatively, known as mud-pots, Their temperatures can range from near 100 °C to occasionally 2 °C, some being used for "mud baths". I wasn't intending to indulge, but Doctor Tino and I decide to make our photos more exciting and generate an explosion, by throwing rocks into a pool. This works rather too well and I’m splattered in mud from head to toe. Anyway, Tino gets some amusing pictures.
The airport is another showy display. It’s incredibly spacious, with arty bars, and is virtually empty. There’s also rather too much attention to bureaucratic detail and some sullen immigration officers. Turkmenistan here I come.
(Read more about Azerbaijan here.)
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