Georgia > Crossing the border to Azerbaijan

We set out early for a long travel day to Azerbaijan. From Tbilisi, it’s about 600 kilometers to Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan. We plan to cover this in two days so that we can check in Baku how to take the ferry to Turkmenistan. The traffic seems a bit lighter this morning as we leave Tbilisi. Soon we reach the main route to Azerbaijan. The drive is smooth. In the town of Singhtari, we order a cappuccino and a cake—a fine little breakfast. Singhtari is a walled town with twenty-three watchtowers, all intact. All the houses have red roof tiles. The whole town has a somewhat Italian appearance, though it sadly lacks the accompanying atmosphere. We quickly continue to the nearby Bodbe Monastery. Here lies Saint Nino. During our visits to other monasteries and churches, we’ve heard so much about her that we want to conclude our visit to Georgia with this monastery. This proves not to be easy. We follow the signs to the monastery and the Tsminda Nino church. When two signs point left, we drive onto an unpaved road. We must be almost there. Wrong! The narrow path winds all the way down the mountain. Twenty minutes later, bumpy and exhausted, we reach the bottom—no monastery in sight. When we ask for directions, people indicate that we are still quite far away. We drive back up the mountain on an asphalt road. After asking several times, we finally return to the signs, only to find that the monastery is just a hundred meters behind them. The tomb is a true pilgrimage site. A woman lies crying over Saint Nino’s tomb. To return to the main road to Azerbaijan, we have to descend the mountain again. The navigation directs us onto a forest path, which gradually disappears.

Georgia - Little confidence in it in Georgia

Eventually, we find ourselves in a small grassy clearing on the mountainside. We decide to turn back. The descent goes better on an asphalt road. Due to all these delays, we only reach the border around three o’clock. It is quiet. At the first counter, we get our passport stamps. Then follows the process for the car, which involves significant language barriers. We must pay road taxes and take out insurance. Papers go back and forth several times. Meanwhile, the luggage is also checked; everything must go through the scanner. We put our personal bags through, while the rest of the luggage can fortunately stay in the vehicle. A customs officer briefly checks what we carry. Can we open the tent? If that proves too much work, the Land Rover must go through the truck X-ray. The customs officer is fascinated by our travel plan. The car goes through the scanner, but before seeing the results, he stamps everything as approved. We ask him what time it is in Azerbaijan. Is it one hour ahead? We think so. With the correct stamp, we drive back to the first counter. Everything seems fine now. Before crossing the border, the X-ray officer comes over and points to his watch—it’s not an hour ahead. My phone has automatically added an hour. What time is it really? All in all, the border has taken us an hour and a half. The motorcyclists are still far behind, about an hour before the border. We decide to stop in Balakan. There’s little point in driving fast if they cannot make it today. We withdraw some Manats and buy a soda in a small shop. A man gestures from his café, offering beer. He holds up a mug. The alcohol limit in traffic in Azerbaijan is 0%, so we are cautious. We order tea. Everyone in the café is curious about our trip, though hardly anyone speaks English. A small dish of chickpeas and cheese sticks appears on the table. Men walk in and out. It is striking how open Azerbaijanis are compared to Georgians. While we sit in the café, Brutus also attracts a lot of attention outside. When we leave, people wave enthusiastically, including passing cars and schoolchildren along the road. Probably no one has ever seen a yellow Land Rover here. In Zaqatala, we decide to stop. From here, it’s another hour and a half to Sheki, our original destination. We book a hotel and send a message to the motorcyclists. Unfortunately, the plan goes awry. The motorcyclists have reached Qak via a different route and have already passed Zaqatala. They didn’t see our message in time.