Close to the Old City

The night before we’d been treated to dinner by the friend of a friend.  He was a former diplomat introduced by another former diplomat.  Now he worked in oil, which has long been rather central to the Baku economy.  He learned Russian during his foreign service training and he saw Azerbaijan through a Russian lens, which I was happy to try-on for size, and consider myself.

Baku was hot.  Our Airbnb host pointed out that the old city was only a short walk away. “Ten minutes.  Fifteen-minutes max” Sounded good to me.  Not to my girls who has promptly hit the bed the moment we arrived. It had been a long night's train ride over.  My wife and I did our typical shopping in the for basic necessities in the Port Baku Mall.  This was easily the most glitzy grocery we’d had access to since leaving home.  The first ATM I used the Pahsa Bank, which I later learned was (like many banks was the Presidents’ personal bank) would not shed out money to me.  But a much less convincing ATM was happy to provide me with 200 manat.  Considering the prices in the Grocery it became clear that this would b used up in one shop.  This Mall had all sort of things to buy, cologne, tennis rackets, guns, but no place to procure a SIM card.  "Try 28 Mall” they told me.  There’s a subway stop there.

The Mrs. decided upon a nap now as well.  I figured I’d make my way over to the old city.  I got as far as the Dom Soviet which was, clearly, built by the Soviets.  And now, I was really melting.  I felt like an idiot walking, the way one does in Dubai where you’re the only pedestrian out there on the high street.  I figured I’d try another glittering mall.  The information lady told to go to the second floor which seemed promising.  But the folks up there all concerned, you need to go to M 28 Mall.  I let the lady know that her information was spurious at the information booth on my way out.

Aziz my cab driver knew where it was.  Let’s just go there.  I’m giving up on walking.  They were indeed ready to sell me a Sim card at this place but . . . I needed a passport, which I hadn’t brought.  This as a drag.  Aziz offered to let me use his, which was very kind and with that I determined to pay him double what I had been otherwise planning to pay him.  I was missing my “mad loba” (გმადლობთ. (gmad-lobt), which is the Georgian way to say “thank you.” That’s pretty easy to remember and sounds a big like “mad love.”  Tesakeur Idarim” always sounds a bit full throated.  But I Tasakuer Idarimed, Aziz chatted away with the lads who were inserting my SIM, who wanted out of Baku, and within minutes we returned to his cab and sped off towards the old city.  

Hey drove me to Fountain’s Square which seemed close to the old city.  And though I needed to ask a few times, I found it alright.  But by this time every step was enervating in the all consuming heat.  I wandered around a while in a pointless circle within the medieval alleys till I found the Maiden’s Tower, which is an interesting construction.  It wasn’t many steps compared to, say, the trot up the St. Peter's basilica at the Vatican, but I felt it by the time I surmounted the construction and considered the open air glare of the bare, flat top

Shirshava Place was in another part of the old city and I plodded along some old crooked alleys before asking one and then another guys and finally a cop for directions.  Lovely, austere, so different from the orthodox iconography of Georgia.  Considering the inner chambers where people presumably used to relax and stay cool.

I had to do a call at 5:30PM and I ducked into the seventeenth “boutique” hotel I’d seen, and ordered a cold, cold gin and tonic and charged my phone while I tried to shift gears.  Right.  The forecast.  After this I walked out the city walls, passed the subway station, but by now, I was ready to go back home to the napping gals and shower up. 

Thursday 7/12/18