Azerbaijan (Turkey on steroids)

A week before actually cycling into Azerbaijan I had met a few young Azerbaijanis in Tbilisi. The soon-to-be engineers and medical doctors were visiting the local Goethe institute to pass the German language test (B2) and hoping to get a position in Germany after graduation. We were both happy to practice our German a little bit (even though the meetup made me a bit doubtful whether they did in fact passed the exam the next day. I never found out, as I was still sleeping when the guys left...

Anyhow I was unsure whether to pass Armenia a visit, if anything just for a couple of days to visit Lake Sevan and to cross the country off my bucket list. But the weather wasn't on my side: constant rainfall in Tbilisi delayed my departure day by day, and when I was eventually ready to leave the weather report indicated snow fall and negative temperatures for Northern Armenia. It was a good excuse to give the mountaineous country a complete rain check and so it came that one Sunday afternoon I started heading East again, with the goal to clear the Asan border the same day.

Getting the visa for Azerbaijan had been an easy undertaking: All it took was filling out an online form (www.evisa.gov.az), making a payment of USD 24 and the next day, my electronic visa was issued already.

With the visa printout in my pocket I set off, through green pastures and very moderate inclines. It's Sunday and some people are obviously enjoying their leisure time, riding into the countryside. Or through the grass.

The weather isn't great, but at least it's not raining -- for now.

I reach the border just before 6pm where I have to pass 3 checkpoints (security, passport control, Whatever control). Luckily I can easily sneak by the cars who are lining up for hundreds of meters on both, the Georgian and Azerbaijan side. Sure enough none of the officials want to see, let alone x-ray my bags, and after some brief confusion over which booths I have to go to in (English no good) my passport is inspected for suspicious entries and stamped.

As usual behind the border a bunch of people is lingering around, wanting to exchange money and trying to sell all kinds of stuff. I keep pushing inland further and the road quickly becomes more quiet (actually it isn't really busy to begin with).

It is still daylight when I start looking for a camp site, pulling into a field road. Big mistake. After a few hundred meters all of the sudden my wheels stop spinning and much to my surprise, fenders and brakes are completely clogged and covered with a very sticky mud, that was hiding underneath a seemingly solid surface.

The path is a dead end and with lots of cursing I somehow haul the bikeback to the main road where I start pedaling slowly to make the mud come off.

Minutes later, the employees of a small gas station spot me and signal me to join them for a tea. After a brief conversation I'm being invited to put my tent on the field behind the gas station -- much to the intense (and very audible) protest of some dogs who claim that territory. Anyhow, I will befriend them later over dinner!

Many people waving, honking, inviting me for tea. But other than that nothing much worth taking photos off during the next 2 days of cycling. Yeah, that's the downside of this route. Okay, how about these 3 shots?

Or, if anything fails, I still can take a photo of myself. Or random cars passing by! Gotta put that new camera to use after all

Arriving in Ganja a few days later I already need a rest: my knee is just really sore after more than 3 weeks of only leisure like luggage-less cycling. I vow to never take any breaks longer than 7 days from now on!

The city of Ganja itself surprises with some stunning buildings and green parks and in contrast some very, very desolate streets. Whole quarters are neither paved nor lit at night: you better turn on your smartphone's flashlight in order to avoid stepping in one of the hundreds of mud puddles or worse, falling into an open manhole somewhere. Even Albania had better infrastructure!

It quickly dawns on me that this country is not actually as rich and advanced as I had thought, only ever having heard of fancy Baku and their oil drilling business. and in fact, Azerbaijan ranks 53 in the 2017 IHDI, merely 3 places above Turkey...

The more I cycle Eastwards in the following days, the more barren and flat the landscape becomes. While the lower Caucasus branches are visible in the distance to the North, the South seems limitless.

It is on that land that I want to set up my tent one night, maybe a kilometer or two away from the farms and herds of sheep which can be seen in the fading daylight. But not long after I stop my bike and begin unloading, a pickup approaches: the farmer has spotted me and invites me to stay the night on his farm.

Of course I do not want to pass up this unique opportunity and I soon make acquaintance with his student son, who is visiting just now from Baku for 2 nights, and his mother, who runs the household. And of course of the no less than 11 bicycle-hating shepherd dogs and some puppies who all seem to think I'm a wolf when I approach the farm...

Other than this, only some helpers and shepherds live on the farm. The rest of the farmer's family stays in their house in another city, including his wife and other children.

The farm consists of multiple buildings, mostly for cattle. The night I will spend together with the grandmother and grand-son in the living-room of their small building, which doubles as a bedroom at night.

Of course before going to bed, a delicous homemade lamb stew awaits and the farmer (who's name I unfortunately forgot) even makes a quick trip to the next market to get some beer, which we drink with another helper.

The 20yo son is not allowed to drink: the father hasn't given him permission yet.