Mickita’s Azerbaijan Family Adventure Through Time and Snow with Thrillophilia

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.” 

There is magic in travel that no words or pictures can truly capture. It is not about seeing new places, but it is about stepping into unfamiliar worlds, feeling the pulse of a different culture and letting its rhythm mingle with your own. I have always believed that every destination has a story to tell, and sometimes, the most unexpected places leave the deepest impressions.

Azerbaijan was not on my radar at all. It was one of those places I had heard of in passing, but never truly considered. That changed one rainy afternoon when I stumbled upon a photograph of the Flame Towers. Their glass facades gleamed against the twilight sky of Baku like candles lit by the hands of giants. Intrigued, I did a quick search and found a country of striking contrasts: snow-capped mountains, bubbling mud volcanoes, ancient fortresses, and a coastline touched by the Caspian Sea.

I could not get it out of my head. Azerbaijan seemed to call out to me, promising an adventure unlike any other. Within a week, my family and I had packed our bags and boarded a flight. As we soared through the skies, I felt thrill and excitement. What stories awaited us in this land of fire and snow? I was ready to find out.

A City of Contrasts

Our journey began in Baku, and from the moment I stepped out of the airport, I felt like I had walked into a world where modernity and history danced together in perfect harmony. Our first stop was Highland Park, and as we climbed the steps, the Caspian Sea came into view with its blue expanse sparkling under the winter sun.

The Flame Towers also stood tall and dramatic. They lit up as the sun dipped lower and flickered like actual flames. My sister was glued to her camera, capturing every single angle. “I think I have found my new desktop wallpaper,” she declared, showing off her shots.

We spent the evening wandering down Nizami Street which was filled with boutique stores, cosy cafes, and locals going about their lives. It was there that I tasted the best baklava of my life - layers of flaky pastry drenched in honey and sprinkled with crushed nuts. My father was equally smitten by the local brew.

“This,” he said, holding up his steaming glass of tea, “is the real Azerbaijan.”

Stepping into the Past

The next morning, we delved into the ancient part of Baku, the Old City. There is something magical about cobblestone streets - they whisper stories of the countless footsteps that have walked them before you. The Maiden Tower also stood proudly at the edge of the city.

Our guide recounted the legend of the princess who jumped to her death to avoid a forced marriage. “It is tragic,” I said, running my hand along the cold stone walls, “but it makes you wonder how many stories like hers are hidden in these walls.”

From there, we wandered through the Shirvanshahs Palace. Its intricate carvings and serene courtyards offered a sharp contrast to the bustle of modern Baku. My mom asked several questions from the guide about everything from the architecture to the royal lineage.

We wrapped up the day at the Carpet Museum which was actually shaped like a rolled-up rug. Inside, centuries of Azerbaijani artistry were on display. Each carpet told a story, and I found myself lost in the patterns and colours.

Snow-Capped Serenity in Shahdag

When we left Baku for Shahdag, I was not sure what to expect. The idea of skiing felt foreign to someone who had grown up in the tropics. But as our car wound its way through the mountains and the first flakes of snow began to fall, I felt a childlike excitement bubbling up.

By the time we reached the Shahdag Ski Resort, the world was covered in white. My sister wasted no time pelting me with snowballs. “At least let me unpack first!” I yelled, dodging one that narrowly missed my scarf.

The ski slopes were both thrilling and humbling. Watching my sister zip down like a pro while I fumbled to stay upright was… an experience, to say the least. 

However, the real magic was the quieter moments. That evening, as the snow fell softly outside, we gathered around a huge fire in the lodge. My dad shared stories from his childhood, while my mom thought about her early travel adventures. The cosiness of that moment - snow outside, warmth inside - was a kind of peace I had not realised I needed.

Mud, Fire, and Mysteries

Back in Baku, our next adventure was a trip to Gobustan National Park, which was home to ancient petroglyphs carved into rocks by people long gone. It was majestic to stand before these carvings that had survived millennia.

“Imagine living here thousands of years ago,” I thought aloud.
“I would not mind if it meant fewer emails,” my dad joked, earning a laugh from all of us.

From Gobustan, we made our way to the Mud Volcanoes. I had never seen anything like them - bubbling pools of grey mud that hissed and popped to create an almost alien landscape.

“Can I touch it?” my sister asked our guide, who nodded. She dipped her fingers into one of the cooler pools and held them up triumphantly. “It feels like clay!”

On our final day, we visited the Heydar Aliyev Center. Inside, we explored exhibits that celebrated the culture and history of Azerbaijan. From its music to its textiles, there was everything.

As we walked through the museum, I reflected on the trip that we had after so long. 

I felt that some places leave you with memories. It reminded me that the world is vast, beautiful, and waiting to be discovered - and that sometimes, all it takes is a single spark to light the fire of adventure.

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