Lost in the Caucasus

 Salut,

Before leaving for spring break, I celebrated Baktygul’s birthday. Last year, I celebrated at her house, and this year we did it again, but this time with her husband. Her husband and my host brother share the same name and are quite close in age. We had pizza, Lagman, and candy and broke our Ramadan fast together. Her husband nearly chopped his finger off while cutting wood, injuring it, which was his excuse when I asked why he didn’t cook her dinner for her birthday. Her mother-in-law joined us as did her children. Overall, the vibes were good. At school, we had minimal celebrations for Women’s Day, and we’ve yet to celebrate Nowruz. One of our Kyrgyz language teachers, Turrabek, put on a short competition with the younger students. This year has been sparser regarding big celebrations, and I’ve been told student behavior has something to do with it. 

Last year, I went to only one or two student disciplinary meetings, which are usually held during 6th period or after classes finish. Now, it feels like they’re on the regular; I can remember at least three from January until now. I haven’t noticed student behavior being substantially worse than it usually is, but maybe my expectations are on the ground. 

Anyway, I was going to go to Astana for break, but throughout February as break crept up on me, I couldn't muster the motivation or excitement to plan a break there, so once I heard Vanessa was visiting Azerbaijan, it gave me a few ideas and made me want to branch out a bit more. I decided to visit Georgia, but I noticed tickets were quite expensive from Almaty roundtrip, so I opted to visit Azerbaijan first, as tickets to Baku were cheap and then fly between the two. Overall, tickets to and fro cost about 500$ or so, which I thought was a good deal. I later learned that Vanessa and Zachary were also going to go to Georgia, but that was well after I had planned my trip. Additionally, I also learned some of the boys from Naryn were also going on a similar trip. Great minds think alike! Three almost completely independent trips and our time in both mostly overlapped. 

Are Azerbaijan and Georgia European? Sort of, maybe. That sort of question is layered in history beyond simple geography, it is rooted in questions of culture, and politics, amongst other things. Wikipedia would tell you they are in “West Asia” a dubious and limiting term that also includes most of the Middle East, but one wouldn’t necessarily associate either of the two countries as being Middle Eastern. Additionally, both are ex-Soviet, an additional similarity that adds to the political complexity. Georgia certainly sees itself as European, which I’ll address later, though Azerbaijan is a bit more ambiguous. I spoke of both as being “East European” and got interrupted and corrected by people in the hostel I was at, so take the claim with some salt. 

I went from Almaty. I realized as I was going that perhaps going from Bishkek might have been cheaper, but at the time, I was just assuming flights from Almaty were better, and I never mind passing through Almaty. Somehow this has been my fourth time going through the city. I stopped at I’M, which is their Mcdonald's rip-off (they changed the name I think back in 2023 or 2022 around the time of sanctions against Russia and Mcdonald's leaving Russia). I arrived in Baku in the god-awful hours of the morning. I hoped and prayed my hostel would let me check in early, and for a solid twenty minutes, I was standing on the foreign dark and empty streets of Baku waiting for the owner to answer his WhatsApp. For a moment, I was afraid I’d be stranded and have to wait until the sun rose, though luckily he eventually picked up. I crashed for a few hours, and then got up bright and rested to the dreary weather. 

I loved Baku. It’s a city on the Caspian Sea, and apparently the lowest capital by elevation in the world, around 28 feet below sea level. It sits on the coast, and the city has a gorgeous pier you can walk down that spans at least a kilometer or two. It felt surreal to go from one of the most landlocked countries in the world to being on the pier overlooking the sea by the next day. I did not have any expectations at all when I first planned the trip, I knew very little about the history of Azerbaijan or Georgia. Baku is a highly developed city with a fast-paced and modern Metro, and the city feels very European. Its architecture in particular was interesting, it has some French and possibly Gothic influence. I am so used to Brutalist and Soviet styles, which are usually very flat and boring, stocky and geometric. The roads in the Old Town were also narrow and cobbled, reminding me of the streets of Rome. 

Azerbaijani is a fascinating language. It is Turkic and similar to Turkish, but more distant to Uzbek or Kazakh, and as such, I couldn’t really understand it. I think linguistically, it is maybe perhaps like French and Romanian; similar language roots and some similar words but fundamentally unintelligible (whereas for me, Kazakh and Kyrgyz are more similarly related, like Spanish and Italian). Yet, I could understand the numbers and random words and could impress shopkeepers by being able to say the prices, but not much further. Russian is still a popular and broadly spoken language in the region. 

Russian has a complex dynamic in the Caucasus. Russian has a strong foothold in Central Asia, where it is on all the signage and is spoken widely. In Azerbaijan and Georgia, there is a lot more English, and all the signage is in English, too. I asked a local, and he said that Russian is only really spoken in Baku. I knew someone in college who is Azerbaijani, and her native language is Russian. In Georgia, there seemed to be more of a push towards English. I used barebones Russian, as I only know numbers and some phrases. Old people in particular still use it, but amongst the younger generation, so I’m told, there is more of a push for their own and English. However, I acknowledge this is because I was also in the capitals, and I’m sure the rural and suburban areas are probably more Russian-dominant.  

You’ll notice in my photos this time that the bucket hat was only worn on occasion. Baku and Georgia were VERY windy. Baku is known for being cold and windy, nicknamed the City of Winds. As such, the hat would’ve flown off. I walked down the pier several times, and once I was calling my friend, and the wind was so loud, she could hear it. I was practically shouting at her.

Baku is a wealthy city, and the country itself seems to be so. Oil propelled the country into development, and you could see oil veneration sort of. The first oil rig was a major tour stop on the advertised tours and the models of the rigs I saw in the national museums. Also, I went to visit one of the mosques, and on the road, further south of the coast, the pier disappeared and you could see all the rigs. 

For the limited time I was there, I tried a few foods, though I’m not sure if any of it was Azerbaijan-specific. While on my trip, I wasn’t observing fasting; it’s nearly impossible while traveling, and also who would want to while in such a city? I had a fast food version of Pide, a Turkish flatbread. I got a stellar recommendation from a local to a restaurant with lively music, where I had some amazing beef and okroshka, which is a cold Russian soup. I know it’s perhaps lame, but I spent a lot of time in Baku’s various museums. TripAdvisor and Google Maps are my bestest of friends. Some major highlights: the Carpet Museum, and its exterior is shaped like a folded carpet. The Deniz Mall, which is shaped almost like a lotus and gives major Sydney Opera House vibes. The Old Town, an old fortress of winding roads, and the famous Maiden Tower. I climbed up the Maiden Tower, which had a gorgeous view of the city. The Ateshgah, or Fire Temple, of Baku, historically was a place of worship and veneration for Sikhs, Hindus, and Zoroastrians. Fire-worshippers. Utterly fascinating. 

I have a highly embarrassing story on my journey out to the temple. The temple is in a rather rural area, at least way outside the city. Baku operates on a city/metropolitan area-wide card system, where you add money to your transport card and then use it to pay for bus fares or metro stops. For those in the US unaccustomed to good public transit, this varies widely around the world, where some systems use cash only, some use a transport card only (like Baku, and Rome if memory serves me correctly), and others (like Tbilisi, Bishkek, and Almaty) accept a mixture of credit cards, cash, or a card too. I was unaware Baku was the second, so by the time I got out to the temple, my card was completely bankrupt. There was no machine, possibly for miles, to top up the card (there is an app locals use, but that requires a local phone number, which I didn’t have). So, there I was with an abundance of cash and credit cards on me, but the driver refused to accept any of it, only a working card would do. I panicked for ten minutes, then got a taxi back, and I learned my lesson to always check and plan beforehand the hard way. 

On my last day, I explored the Flaming Towers, which are mostly just business buildings, that are large skyscrapers in indented shapes that, at night, project light shows and holograms of the Azerbaijan flag. The Deniz Mall too lights up at night, and in the dark, along the pier, the city feels alive. I met up with Zachary and Vanessa for a late lunch, and we had lots of wine. Zachary was worried for me, but I assured him that drinking wine before going to a modern art museum was a good move. And it was! I’d recommend it. Modern art can be unbearably pretentious, unsettling, perplexing, or all of those, and wine helps. I was out of time and had only 45 minutes to look through it all, but the amount of clarity or focus one gets after drinking wine can help you better appreciate the art, or at least I think so. 

Afterward, I flew to Georgia, which is Azerbaijan’s western neighbor, only an hour by plane away. A night bus exists, but I didn’t learn that it existed until it was way too late. I really loved the hostel in Tbilisi; it hosts mainly tourists and lots of backpackers. One of the administrators was seemingly a Russian native who was living in Georgia, ostensibly because of the war in Ukraine. He complimented me on my Russian pronunciation, saying that it was evident I was around lots of Russian speakers. I knew hearing Masha and the Bear and headache-inducing Tiktok videos on repeat would lead me somewhere! On my taxi into the city, the driver got cut off by another, cursed him out. He glanced at me and smiled, pointing to the culprit, and said, “See, this is Georgia!” Both times, I arrived late, it couldn’t be helped, but the night views of both cities were divinely gorgeous. My hostel was in the Old Town area too, though less walls like Baku, and much steeper roads, which made for a fun taxi ride.  

In Georgia, there was graffiti and art everywhere signaling support for the EU and some anti-Russian sentiment. Europe Square has blazing flags of the EU and Georgia together. WE ARE EUROPE is the mantra. I’m not sure how widespread this is outside Tbilisi, but Russia did go to war with Georgia in 2008, which is still obviously fresh in everyone’s memories, so that means strong sympathy towards Ukraine and a push towards westernization. As such, Georgia does see itself, to some degree, as European.  

Georgia, unlike many of the countries I’ve visited in my travels these past two years, is predominantly Christian (Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan have minority Christian communities). I have visited various churches around Central Asia that are predominantly Orthodox (Zentkov’s Cathedral is a favorite of mine in Almaty, and I have been many, many times). Orthodox churches reawakened that art history-obsessed side of me that loves to dissect and talk about the lines and colors of the frescoes. My particular specialty was always in Renaissance, Baroque, and Mannerist styles, as I always found Orthodox to be rather 2D and flat-looking by comparison. The Holy Trinity Cathedral in Tbilisi dominates the city, its high pillars and size visible even from great distances and atop the cable cars. Mother Georgia is an actual statue; she’s rather small in actuality but sits high on the mountain tops overlooking the city. 

Baku eventually warmed up a bit, but Georgia remained stubbornly cold, rainy, and windy while I was there. Vanessa fell sick, so Zachary and I hung out a bit. Despite my previous blunders, I had an unusually safe and easy time overseas. Not so much can be said about the other volunteers, from whom I heard various horror stories about visa issues, illnesses, and hostel/hotel problems, amongst other things. Peace Corps told us to avoid Rustaveli Avenue at night; I went during the day and it was a rather plain-looking square (not the one pictured; that's the famous Liberty Square) but at night, it’s the organizing ground for continuous political protests. Like Baku, Tbilisi had a robust metro (albeit slightly smaller) and bus system and a network of underground tunnels full of souvenir stalls. I visited several of the galleries in Tbilisi, my favorite being their Museum of Fine Arts, as I appreciated it focused so intensely on local artists. 

Zachary and I tried numerous Georgian foods. My friend, Mihica, has been to Tbilisi, though not Baku, and she had many food recommendations. Khachapuri and Lobiani were amongst a few. I had salmon and trout in Baku and Tbilisi, as I miss fish so much. Fish is another dish I had reservations about while stateside that I have grown to like while abroad. We visited the Holy Trinity Cathedral at night, which also glows at night. Zachary and I had shots of Chacha, a very strong Georgian vodka. Georgia is famous for its wine and drinks, and not being predominantly Muslim, there was an abundance of breweries and liquor stores. We visited the Museum of Illusions, a fun place where I think I missed a few of the illusions due to being a bit out of my head. We tried to go to a club with a recovered Vanessa, but as Zachary lamented, it was a straight club, and straight clubs aren't known for having particularly good music or good dancing, and it had neither. I tried to liven it up, but it is a fool’s errand if no one else is trying to make a good time, too. 

Also, animals! Baku was filled with stray cats all over the road. Georgia, on the other hand, poetically, was full of stray dogs, adorned with yellow tags on their ears to indicate their vaccination status. Great big dogs that slept in balls outside churches, on the mountains, and strolled down the streets.

While in Georgia, I took a brief trip to Mtskheta. Mtskheta is an old town and once was the capital of Georgia. Many of its churches are exceptionally old and are listed as UNESCO heritage sites. I took a taxi up to the Javi Monastery, which sat upon a high hill. The town is very touristy, as it is very close to Tbilisi. It was lovely, though very windy and very cold. It had numerous other monasteries besides the aforementioned one, but most were unreachable without an on-hand taxi or guide with you. I know some volunteers took guided tours, but I refused to. I did so growing up, taking often half-day or full-day tours on air-conditioned double-decker buses, with seats where I could stare out the windows while listening to a guide drone on. Out here though, and now, I find comfort and adventure in going out myself and avoiding established touristy tours. I went up and hoped I could find my way down. I had my Google Maps to help me, my umbrella to keep me dry, and time to do stuff on my own schedule. 

Atop the hill, I had hot wine, a staple of Georgia. Wine ice cream was heavily advertised around the city, but with it being unbearably cold, it didn’t jibe with my mood or my appetite. While in Mtskheta, I walked atop an abandoned fortress gate on the northern outskirts of the city. The slope up was a bit steep and littered with gravel, and a nearby dog accompanied me up the hill. He certainly didn’t have to, but it felt like he was watching after me to make sure I got up safely, and he even followed me down, trodding along at my slow pace.

Sometimes going on my own on a map got me into a pickle. While trying to find the Chronicles of Georgia, massive pillars detailing the history of the country, featuring famous historical Georgian figures, in addition to scenes from the Bible, I inadvertently took a wrong path and ended up walking 1 km up high into the muddy mountains and nearly slipped into mud. Had I taken the paved route used by cars, I would have saved myself such a dirty and grimy trip, but a lesson learned. Sometimes I feel like I always am learning the same lessons over and over again. Anyhoo, the chronicles were massive and well worth seeing, with a gorgeous view overlooking the Tbilisi Sea. 

I left Georgia before the others, going back through Almaty, to Bishkek, then back to my village in Jalal-Abad. I passed through Bishkek, and with nothing to do and time to pass, I saw Snow White in theaters. Despite the numerous controversies, it’s a middling movie, not worth significant praise, nor I think, significant hatred. Some parts were good, others very bad. Yet despite bad press in the US, my showing was in English and sold out with many families. No one walked out or laughed or openly cringed, so I think that was a good sign, especially with my expectations at rock bottom. 

So ended my time in the Caucasus region, and with it, my spring break. Getting out was needed for me; I had long grown tired of the minutiae, as everyone does. I draw a distinction, albeit a somewhat blurry one, between vacationing and traveling. Vacationing I often envision as a trip focused on pleasantries, relaxation, and good vibes and food. Your average beach trip. Traveling I imagine is more driven by a desire for culture, historical sites or landmarks, museums, churches or mosques, etc. Most people go on trips that have a bit of both. I am mostly driven by a desire to travel, and neither is more valid than the other. It’s easy to wonder if I saw enough, or if I did everything. Yet I never want to see everything. I missed several things in Baku due to time constraints, and I’m okay with that; it means I have a reason to return. Traveling also meant I was extraordinarily tired due to numerous bus rides, plane rides, etc. 10 passport stamps and 5 plane rides later, I made it back home. People are skeptical of me when I tell them I travel alone, both by my community and sometimes by other volunteers. I’ve seldom met someone as interested in museums as I am, so that’s part of it. Yet also, it’s a wild ride to go out alone, and not at all easy. It’s fun, adventurous, and prone to mishaps and embarrassing stories, weird looks, gaffs and attempted scams, language blunders, and lost items. I never mind it, and as we volunteers say, such is life (жашоо ушундай). 

À Bientôt,

Grace