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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.
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