Azerbaijan, a country that only became an independent state a little over 20 years ago, is changing and modernizing incredibly fast. Now that the country has gained its political independence, it is striving for a cultural independence. The capital, Baku, is moving forward and changing itself and its architecture in ways to shed its Soviet past.

When I visited Baku about five years ago, it was pretty similar to the way it had been ten years ago when I lived there, aside from all the construction everywhere. When I visited last year, in 2012, the changes were astonishing. There were several new buildings, new parks, new attractions. It was all so incredible and modern, yet there was still a taste of the old and traditional Azerbaijan.

As mentioned, within the course of a few years, Azerbaijan has rapidly modernized itself. Take the housing, for example. I visited several new apartments when I visited the last time, and they were certainly nothing like the old apartments from the Soviet era. They were large and spacious, with high ceilings and big rooms. The people living in them added brand-new furniture, more contemporary than traditional. It was nothing like the house I’d lived in when living in Baku many years ago.

Another big alteration in Baku that I noticed was the parks, especially the Bulvar (Boulevard) and Targova (Fountain Square). The Bulvar still had a number of its old restaurants but also featured several new ones. Foreign trees and shrubs and flowers were planted everywhere. Small statues were also placed throughout the park, and there were lots of new carousels and rides in the small amusement park.

Fountain Square had new, modern fountains built in the place of many of the old fountains. The very long, old fountain that had been in the middle of the square was replaced with a walkway, and around it were a couple of fountains, such as one consisting of large metal balls and a pyramid fountain. The biggest fountain was renovated and surrounded by arches and columns and long white stairs.

I also saw in Baku incredible new buildings such as the Flame Towers, the Park Bulvar mall, and the Heydar Aliyev cultural center. I had noticed the construction of the Flame

Towers a few years ago, but I never could’ve imagined that the product would be as beautiful as it is today. The Flame Towers are three towers in the shape of flames, representing the naturally occurring fires of Azerbaijan. The Towers are a housing residence and are the highest buildings in the city. At night, the Flame Towers light up in beautiful colors. Sometimes, they’ll light up with moving pictures of fire, and sometimes with the colors of the flag—blue, red, and green.

Another new structure in Baku, the Park Bulvar mall, is a large shopping mall that includes a movie theater, very nice restaurants, and a bowling alley. The front of the building is shaped like a large egg, made out of glass. The rest of it is a contemporary structure with a curvy top.

A third building that is amazingly built is the Heydar Aliyev cultural center. It is a single building containing a library, a museum, and a performance hall. The large building is extraordinarily shaped, having several slopes and curves along the surface. It is enormous, and I can only imagine how difficult it was to build such a place. It truly is a unique building in a unique city.

Despite the fact that Azerbaijan, especially Baku, is modernizing faster than the blink of an eye, it still has several spots and monuments that represent its history and past. Even though there are many new housing residences that are different and new, many people still live in their old apartments that contain their family’s past, history, and memories. And although the parks such as the Bulvar and Fountain Square have changed, the Bulvar is still a place where you can go out for a walk, to enjoy yourself, to stare out into the sea, just as you could more than 100 years ago. And the Fountain Square is still the same square, with the same shops and cafes, just different fountains.

Though there may be several new buildings, there are many historical places in Baku to visit as well. Old City Baku, Gobustan, Maiden’s Tower, and Ateshgah are just a few of the many symbolic and historical sites in and around Baku.

So, as Baku does plan to add 30 new buildings a year for 15 years and is rapidly modernizing and becoming independent with its culture, its new character is perfectly balanced with its sense of a historic past.

Post written by Nazrin Garibova. Nazrin is an upcoming 10^th grader at Oakton High School in Vienna, Virginia, in the United States. She and her family lived in Azerbaijan until she was four-and-a-half years old.

If I had the attention of every citizen of the world for just a moment, I would cry “STOP WAR!” as loudly as I could. Wars devastate lives and make wild animals out of humans. However, they also bring out our strength, perseverance, and heroism among common men.

I knew an old Azerbaijani woman who lived very close to the contact line between Azerbaijan and Armenia. Although I could see the tragedy of the conflict in her eyes and on the wrinkles of her face, her words did not let on. Instead of grieving her involvement as part of this tragic history or slipping into a state of anger or despair, she expressed patriotism, hope, and resilience.

I first met this woman while staying with a host family in the region. The old woman was in poor health and visited my host mother, a registered nurse, every day in order to receive an injection necessary for her condition. Although she was not very talkative, during her visits she shared her story with me.

Her son was killed in front of her eyes in 1993. Although her daughter in law escaped with her granddaughter, she never heard from them again. It is thought that they were either killed or lost to cold and hunger. War is cold.

Half of her front yard is occupied by Armenian forces and she hasn’t used the second floor of her new house since July, 1993 in fear of being shot. Light must not escape through the windows so they are covered with large dark curtains, similar to those used during World War II. She lives in darkness.

Although she once shared the house with her grandson, he has since move to Baku to study. She remains in her house alone. Many of her neighbors have lost their lives, her own life is accidental. It is a lonely village.

I was deeply saddened by her story but also struck with admiration. She truly was fighting to live her life on her terms as best she could, despite her tragedy and loneliness. She was living face to face with death, but was positive about the future.

Post written by Sevda Salayeva

Every morning I pass by an impressive statue on my walk to campus. The protagonist is a commanding figure, riding his horse through the clouds, pointing his scimitar toward the sky. It stands on a tall stone base that pushes the total height to about 23 meters (25 yards).  It commands attention.

The first time I walked past it, I immediately knew what it was. I looked at the base to confirm and read KOROGLU in big metal letters. I should probably have expected to see a giant statue of possibly the Turkic world’s most famous hero in Baku, but I honestly was struck. I’m sure every visiting ethnic Azerbaijani from Iran like myself had the same reaction at some point.

Koroglu literally translates to “son of a blind man.” He’s the main character of a series of folk tales that my father would tell me as a child as I grew up in the Washington, D.C., area. By now, I have forgotten much of Koroglu’s adventures, but some of the tales still resonate.

I remember that when my father spoke of the Epic of Koroglu, at times he would get excited and use emphatic gestures. But as he told the stories, he would snicker intermittently like it was something of the past that had been replaced by more civilized Persian stories. As if it were an oral tradition only known to villagers, while the more educated and elite were teaching their kids stories from the Shahnameh. It was the expression of a man who knew that his culture, identity, and national heroes were withering away and had come to terms with it. Koroglu was something of the past.

This nostalgia in some way was passed on down to me. I guess that was the reason that I became so emotional upon first glance at the statue honoring this tale.

I came to Baku for several reasons: to become educated on the region, to perfect my Azerbaijani language skills for which I never in my life had received formal education, and to scout possible opportunities. But I think subconsciously I’m here to learn more about the intricacies of my own culture that I was never exposed to, partially because of the fact that I hail from the ethnic Azerbaijani minority in Iran who are denied cultural expression, and partly because growing up in the States made it difficult to learn about and experience these things. It is as much a journey of self-discovery as it is anything else.

Before I arrived, I didn’t know what to expect. On one end, working at the Karabakh Foundation and within the Azerbaijani community in D.C. gave me a grandiose impression of what Azerbaijan would be like. I had seen photos of the beautiful Azerbaijani countryside and the amazing construction projects, witnessed beautiful Azerbaijani dances and musical performances, and had been a frequent consumer of Azerbaijani cuisine. I had kept up with Azerbaijan’s economic, political, and social development. Despite this, I was still quite naïve about the country. We all know that nothing compares with firsthand experience.

I have to admit that after five months living here, I’m still as confused about this city as I was when I came. Baku is a city of contradictions. It’s a city of both excess and insufficiency, of progress and conservatism, passion and stoicism, color and blandness. It’s both European and Asian, simultaneously post-Soviet and modern.

And as such, my feelings about Baku are torn. If I were to say my stay here has been perfect, I’d be lying. I grew in the D.C. area, where I took for granted simple conveniences. And while my living conditions are by no means bad—for many things I was actually quite impressed) as my hosts have done their best to ensure that I have everything I need—there are still bureaucratic messes that one has  to overcome.

But after some reflection, I don’t think that I would want it any other way. I would be bored otherwise. I came here to open a new chapter in my life, start an adventure, and now I realize that this is exactly what I wanted. There is an interesting charm about the dichotomous nature of this city.

I think the only thing about Azerbaijan that doesn’t seem to have an opposing side is the amazing sense of hospitality that is embedded into the people here.

While Baku is a little more Western in orientation and has a colder “big city” feel than some other parts of Azerbaijan, one can still regularly experience the generosity of strangers who are willing to almost give you everything to make sure your experience is nothing short of perfect. I consistently struggle to pay for my own meals and coffee when I’m out with friends. This is, of course, much more pronounced when one visits the regions outside of Baku, where people live simpler lives.

Throughout my time in Baku, I got a chance to see a number of amazing sites. My favorite thing to do by far is to take a night stroll through the city’s gorgeous Caspian-side promenade from the Old City toward the Flame Towers, which dominate the night skyline. On occasion, I’ll take the funicular up to Martyrs’ Alley, which has one of the best views of the Baku. It’s a wonderful blend of old and new.

A quick trip to Gobustan will afford a glimpse into the lives of the regions earliest inhabitants. Other great sites within the Baku city limits are the Maiden’s Tower in the Old City and the Carpet Museum.  Complete the day with a trip to one of Baku’s Turkish-style hamams (bath house) and you’re guaranteed to sleep like a rock.

The restaurants in Azerbaijan are amazing, especially those serving local fare. Anyone who enjoys Middle Eastern cuisine will definitely appreciate Azerbaijani cooking. I especially find it quite nostalgic because it is quite close to some of the foods that my mother and grandmother made at home, but with interesting twists. It seems to be a perfect blend of different tastes for the region, and it is never boring.

I still reminisce about the quantity and quality of the food that I had during the fall apple festival in Quba and the pomegranate festival in Qoychay. Both seemed like giant outdoor all-you-can-eat buffets where you could be indulging on numerous foods made with the particular fruit of choice in one minute and then watching a breathtaking Azerbaijani dance performance the next.

If you’re lucky enough to be invited to an Azerbaijani wedding, which is quite easy actually, you’ll even get to learn some of these dances yourself. The fruit festivals usually end with performances by Azerbaijan’s most renowned musicians.

 

Azerbaijan is a country that is trying to revive its rich culture yet modernize at the speed of light. The country is simultaneously exploring its past and stepping into the future. While reviving and preserving its age-old music and dance, it’s also aspiring to build the tallest and most innovative buildings on Earth.

For me, Azerbaijan is seeing the statue of Koroglu every morning before attending class at my new state-of-the-art campus.

Post written by Farzin Farzad. Mr. Farzad is a former program officer for the Karabakh Foundation and currently a student at the Azerbaijan Diplomatic Academy. He is currently pursuing a Master’s Degree in Diplomacy and International Affairs. 

Although I am an Azerbaijani, I do not know Karabakh as well as my countrymen who were once at home in the region, when Azerbaijani people could safely live in the area before the battle for Karabakh. Although we can study the Karabakh region and conflict, only those who have lived and lost in Karabakh can truly make us understand. For my third blog post I will share the story of one courageous woman who lived in Karabakh and lost her husband in the battle for Karabakh. Through her story, one can begin to understand the depth of human and cultural loss in Karabakh.

I have known this woman for a few years, but never dared to speak to her about Karabakh. I dialed her number with hesitation. Much to my astonishment, she accepted the offer with great pleasure and invited me to dinner. She greeted me with a warm smile and shared her stories openly.

“I left the village later than everybody” she told me. She paused as if struck by the memories of dark days and continues, “I was breeding moths and I couldn’t leave them behind. But, I woke up one day and all of them were dead. They were probably poisoned by dangerous gases in the air caused by the extra use of guns in the zone those times.”

When she finally left it was the summer of 1992. “We were terrified so we left the village,” she shares. “We went to the bank of river Gargar and made a tent there.  We spent the whole night there with villagers. When we woke in the morning, we drank water and ate the food we had. My son Parviz began to cry, missing the tea with sugar we customarily drank in the morning. All of our hearts were broken. In an attempt to assuage his tears and preserve some semblance of cultural normalcy, I returned to the village to fetch him a thermos of tea and sugar. “

“Six of our male relatives were killed and we went to cry for them in the graveyard. We cried for a while and then we just realized we were crying for someone else, not for our relatives.  We found their actual graves and started to cry again.”

Post written by Sevda Salayeva