Azerbaijan in Red and White

by Janel Coe (Canada)

A leap into the unknown Azerbaijan

The sleek red bus was clearly state of the art. The ride was smooth and the air conditioning was on full blast. Everyone enjoyed a seat to themselves. An automated voice, in an appropriate volume, announced the name of the next stop at each turn. Now, I didn’t understand a word the voice was saying. I do not understand Azerbaijani, the official language of – you guessed it – Azerbaijan. Part of the former Soviet Union, I had read that the country had recently simplified the process for getting a tourist visa. Never having been to that part of the world and intrigued by what I might find, I went online and booked my flight to the capital, Baku. In the past several years Azerbaijan has become a major player in the field of oil production, and this made riding the buses VERY cheap. A one way fare cost 30 Azerbaijani Manat, the equivalent of 24 Canadian cents. I decided that exploring by bus would be a very good idea indeed. Until I saw the white bus. What on earth was this thing doing here, alongside the glorious red bus? The two couldn’t be more different. The white busses (said in the plural for I soon found out there were a slew of them – perhaps just as many as the red) seemed to be leftovers from the U.S.S.R. Did someone…forget to get rid of them? I observed one more closely and noticed that boarding took place at the back of the bus (should I even call it a bus? A mini-bus maybe? Or a slightly oversized van?). Curiosity got the best of me and I hopped on behind the others. I found it odd that no one paid a fare – but hey, a free ride on a death trap it seemed. I mean, when in Baku, right?! People were standing shoulder to shoulder. They gripped onto the well-worn handles that dangled overhead as the bus swerved in and out of traffic, honking to let others know that IT was boss. When the bus made a stop, I noticed something peculiar: passengers would head towards the front of the bus and, before disembarking, pay their fare to the bus driver. The bus driver, if needed, would give change from an ancient cash-register, unsecured, that was propped up to the side of him. He multitasked the financial transaction with his right hand while puffing vigorously on his cigarette with his left. Like the buses, the sights in Azerbaijan varied widely. I ended up at the Heydar Aliyev Centre, a building complex that houses a sprawling museum. It was built by renowned Iraqi-British architect Zaha Hadid at a cost of approximately $250 million USD. Also architecturally pleasing and totally over the top was the Azerbaijan Carpet Museum, the entire building in the shape of…you’ve guessed it, a carpet. Other times my random bus travels would take me to places that clearly didn’t cost millions upon millions of dollars. Like when I noticed we were leaving the city proper and heading into the suburbs. Rows upon rows of high-rise concrete apartment blocks, as far as the eye could see, appeared upon me. I felt like I suddenly travelled back in time to the U.S.S.R. circa 1988. I disembarked and wandered around, taking in this peculiar place. A mural on the side of one apartment building captured my attention. The top of the mural displayed the hammer and sickle, the symbol of proletariat solidarity. A picture of a communist worker, wearing a helmet, looked into the world with a serious, somber expression on his face. One arm was raised, while the other held a smiling baby (one with a uni-brow, curiously enough), who herself held out both of her hands to embrace this socialist society of her and her comrades. Yes, the buses were very distinct. Very red. Very white. And the more I explored Baku, the more I understood how red and white the city was as well.