Xinaliq – village of the snowmen, mountainous paradise

(pics of the village and our hosts will follow)

When talking about their village, the habitants of Xinaliq refer to it as mountainous paradise, and to themselves as snowmen. They say both with a big grin on their faces. These descriptions are spot on. With the help of other sources, I will try to do it justice.

Mark Elliot describes the village as following; ‘On a typical overcast day, Xinaliq rises like a pre-historic stone boat floating on a heavy sea of clouds… the village itself is a steeply-stacked pile of 300 higgledy piggledy, rocky-grey homes.’ The roof of one house often forms the garden of another. Mark has probably never set foot in Xinaliq in the winter, when perhaps (as I have not seen it any other time) it is of even greater beauty. Not mere pre-historic stone houses floating in the clouds, but rather floating in the snow, surrounded by peaks every direction you look.

Xinaliq is a habitat of wonders- perhaps less so today than several years ago. It is perhaps also the example of a changing society. As –apparently– one of the oldest mountain villages, this curious place is situated on near the top of the mountain Tufan daģ (~2500 m), a triangled peak, always covered with snow. Having been very hard to reach in the past, it was considered a place of mystery for many years. Too high (or simply located wrongly) for trees or much vegetation, the villagers used to hunt and herd, making clothes and carpets of the fabric they gathered. Before, some attempts were made to cultivate the grassy terraces on steep slopes, but today the terraces are left to the grass. Hunting and herding is still done, but no longer is all that is needed produced by the people themselves.

More than one road now connects Xinaliq to the world, changing life as it once was. Before, the main road was not open in the winter time. A river had to be forked many times: frequently the rapids were too strong to do so. Snow also made the terrain hard to cross. During these times, only a handful of villagers used to remain in Xinaliq, mostly men. Rations would be stored up, snow would come (and shuffled off the roof tops), hares and wolves would join village life. Yet now there is another road. While prone to natural destruction, it makes winter travel to and from the village a lot easier. Even during these months, villagers occasionally travel down to Quba and buy and sell products there. Yet being quite an expensive journey, buying produce for ten months is still common.

Xinaliqi people are descendents of Albans named Ketsh, giving them a different appearance than the stereotype Azerbaijanis. Many of them have light brown, blue or green eyes. They speak their own language, which they call Xinaliqi, but the proper name is Ketsh Mitz. This is considered a very rare language, consisting of 77 letters of which 59 are consonants, making the language very guttural and wheezing (according to Yunus Desheriyev and Marek Lech). In school the children start learning Azerbaijani, but the pre-schooled children do not know this yet. All the adults speak Azerbaijani too, while the men also speak Russian.

More women and children are starting to stay during the cold months, though many people still go down to Quba. During these times, those that remain behind occupy themselves with shoveling snow of the flat roofs, so that these don’t collapse inwards. And while clearing the roof, they might as well clear the path to between the house and outside toilet. The other main occupation, watching satellite tv and for the women, preparing food.

While the road is a blessing in several ways, it is also a curse to the old way of life. Being a place of beauty, the road has make Xinaliq more accessible to tourists. (Xinaliq in fact is hardly known to Azerbaijanis, but immensely almost every foreigner has heard of it.) No hotel has been built as yet, but various families are starting to earn their living as UAZ jeep/Niva taxi (needed to fork the river when the road has washed away), from home stays or during the summer months as guides and horse rental for hikers. And while it is really good for the people to have yet another way of making a living, it damages the society, some people’s honesty and clashes with the famed Azerbaijani hospitality. It is this natural generosity that gets in conflict. Apparently like in some areas of Georgia, a real tension is emerging between it, clashing with income generation of tourism. As such, we heard many different rates to go up to Xinaliq and descend again. Perhaps it also depends if you pick up a ride that is going in your direction regardless of you being there, but we were quoted prices differing from 3 manats per person to 10 a head or 150 for the car (and driver). Also, I do not think a set amount has been established to host people, what is included in this rate, and the terms of conduct. Also, not all tourists are the same… at the same time it might be key to the survival of the village. Slowly families are moving out. Of the 300-500 families, around 150- 200 still live there, with fewer than 100 families staying for the winter. The youngsters are going to Quba to study and might stay depending on job/marriage.

A home stay in Xinaliq is amazing. At least we were really lucky and got to stay with an fantastic, friendly family. Three of the six had a UAZ-lift up to Xinaliq, and were dropped off at the driver’s brother’s place. Families tend to be quite big- I guess you have to keep yourself busy and warm in some way. Our host family consisted of the father and mother, 6 daughters and 1 son (poor one), and 2 granddaughters. Their father had gotten ill one day, and just died, so now the mother and those two have moved back in.
The house consists of three rooms and a closed balcony; respectively the kitchen, living room and sleeping room. There is a little hut with a hole in the floor outside functioning as toilet, a porch, and a hallway where you take off your shoes. The family owns cows for milk and some sheep, probably for mutton to sell in Quba and for wool to make carpets with. Some of the doors in the house were said to be over 400 years old. The ceiling was made of wood, covered with the stone roof (flat). All the rooms are lined with hand-made carpets, both on the floor and hanging from the walls for isolation. In the living room there was a small heating unit, running on dung and trash; a table and some chairs; a sofa; another low table with pillows around it to sit on and eat at; and a tv. In the kitchen there was a small oven used to bake bread, and big bags of supplies. Of the six of us, the girls slept in the 3rd room, a dressing/sleeping room, on thick mattresses with thick duvets (sheep wool I presume). The boys slept with the men in the closed balcony room, tucked under 3 blankets, still shivering away. The women and children slept in the main room and the kitchen. It was quite obvious that our stay disrupted their normal ways, though I think the children especially enjoyed our company and our host too. We gave them the food we took and some presents (jam and sweets), and put some money on top for sleeping at their place. Also, of the million and one photo’s they made us take of the family, we are mailing them the best copies. Being really tired we went to bed early and got up when it got light, to explore the village and climb one of the hill tops, all before breakfast and saying goodbyes to hike back down to ‘civilization’.

ahhh.... snow, snow, snow: to and from Xinaliq

A picture says more than 1000 words, so many pictures here. There are of the route to and from Xinaliq, a village above 2000 metres, where they speak their own language (and Azerbaijani after they go to school). Winter conditions are such that although there is a road, the route is not always open to go. Many families also still choose to go down to Quba for the winter, rather than stay in the winter cold.
En route to Quba we encountered one flat tire, an overheating engine and a short stop by the police (with whom the driver had a brief negotiation). Slept in Quba, and up early to walk/hitch hikes up to Xinaliq, 6 munchkins divided into 2 groups. One group hiked from km 35 to 57 where Xinaliq is, the other had a lift though the roughest terrain, though often driving at walking pace. Part of the road had washed away with a mud avalanche a month before... See below for the route there, and back. Just a short comment on the way back. We hiked part of the way, but decided time wise to take the jeep. This -unfortunately- broke down, but the amazingly skilled driver repaired it, in 2 freezing hours. Though he cut his finger and bled quite severely, he kept on repairing, with the few other cars that came by stopping and helping. Absolutely amazing!

Sweet Şəki and holy Kiş

Sweet Şəki

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All the pictures first, so the reading of the long tale is not per se needed. Enough imagery! The lady in pink is our new friend, the lovely Janet!

Holy Kiş and the gang!

Hoera! Another weekend, and yet again, another trip out of Baku was planned. Five of us would catch the train to Şəki on Friday night, arrive early morning Saturday, and spend the weekend there. If return tickets could be obtained, we would travel back overnight Sunday- Monday, if not, Sunday with machutka.
So said, so done, Thursday afternoon 5 plaskart tickets were bought, the cheapest benches you can get. The train would take around 9 hours, but you could sleep, and blankets were included.

Friday evening Agata, Krzysiek and I set of as excited little children to the train station. There were some worries that 2 would be late (Agnieska and Maciek), but they make it in time, and we even got 5 more travel companions, the lovely Janets. In Şəki Guillome was to join us, who traveled by bus as he could not get hold of a train tickets.

A short but comfortable night was spent in the train. Much warmer than my room, it was lovely to be fully warm at night again, though waking up with neon light and a stern looking coupé lady was less fun. This same lady shouted at us to hurry up and jump out of the train, as we were holding it up.

The only people getting off at Şəki were the crazy tourist: a group of 5 Germans, and us. We were lucky in terms of sleeping location, having a Peace Corps volunteer hosting us (Daniela); the others were staying at the Caravan Saray. Though we ‘know’ the Germans, their trip to Şəki coinciding with ours was no set arrangement but by chance.

For some really logical reason, most train stations are not in the towns themselves, but often quite a distance away. In Şəki’s case, the train station is some 17 km from the city centre, and at 7 no bus is running. The others negotiated the taxi, while I started taking pictures, and did not to stop until we got back on the road to Baku.

Our cab driver was the stereotype Azeri man – nice rounded face with a good mustache, good belly and a big smile as well. Sparkling eyes, and always curious what you are up to. In our best Azeri, we managed to find out he is not from Şəki, but from a place far more beautiful but now under occupation, he is married, has a son and daughter, his daughter is married and he has a grand child. We also found out we would not have rain, but nice weather, at least Saturday! Than he wanted to know what we think of Obama… Babat (so so) we said, as we haven’t seen him in a lot of action yet… he did agree, laughing. At this point we pass a Heyder billboard, so the next question is what he things of Heyder Aliyev. ‘Super!’ And his son? Laughter, ‘babat’. Meanwhile the sun is slowly coloring the sky in oranges and pinks, set against slight mountains (over 2000 meters) and open country side.

Not long after we enter Şəki. First to the Autovaxal (bus station), then to the main centre. We get out, pay and call our host. She’s still asleep, so tea is the better option, and we find a nice, smoke filled, already quite full, male only tea house. Dominoes are already on the tables, most men in the classical outfit, some still wearing their hats. The people are smaller here, and look more alike than in Baku.
We take a table and wake up with strong, Azeri tea. In front of us are two pots of sugar: white cubes and more brownish cubes, slightly damp. Are they wet on purpose, or did they just get damp- we saw the same in another tea house later on, and are baffled. Though we thought of ordering a third pot of tea, it was time to walk back to the autovaxal and meet Daniela, accompanied by her friends dog who was overjoyed to see us.
Daniela is a really friendly Californian, working with business development in Şəki. She has a mansion as home, and always hosts people passing by. She did not want our cooked breakfast, though her friend – another Peace Corps volunteer named Lucy- did join. Meanwhile Daniela drew us a map of Şəki, with all the places to see: the Caravan Saray, the Xan Saray (summer palace), part of the silk route en the village of Kiş, with the old Albanian church.

Naturally, us stubborn lot did not follow the suggested direction of the route, but did go and see all those places. We opted to go to Kiş first, as it was lovely weather. There we found our way to the old church, renovated on basis of its 5-6th century looks, but with fundaments from the 1st century and traces of a temple from before that. In the background snow covered mountain peaks, down below a river now tame, but judging by the river bed and the walls build surrounding it, with considerable force.

Our route continued through the village, with lots of photo’s being taking, short chats with typical looking men, playing nerd (backgammon) at really high speed. Up to the mosque, through the graveyard, back to the centre. There we bought some instant coffee and sat in the –once again, male dominoes playing tea house, for tea and hot water for the coffee. Revived, the trip went on to the river, where we planned to take the bus back that had passed us already 12 times… unfortunately, no bus came, and we hiked a long way back direction the city. The landscape is really beautiful. Apart from the snow topped mountain in the distance, we were surrounded by mountain flanks full of ‘autumny’ oak trees, lots of brown, but enough yellow, red and still some green to be beautiful. Not too many houses, but some building, not too many cars passing by or people on the streets. The weather furthermore was good, not too cold, fresh and crispy, with some sunshine!

Nearly reaching the outskirts of Şəki, finally a bus passed by and we hopped on. In Şəki itself we walked up the old silk route, passing the 1001 sweet shops Şəki is famed for. Especially its Baklava and Halva are praised. The former is nice, with many spices and I believe walnuts instead of pastiche nuts, better when they do not soak it in the sugar water. The Halva is not quite my thing, even sweater than the baklava, it is moist, red and white on top, and not at all like the halva I know. Either way, the sugar dose was nice and helped us walk up to the other church and the summer palace, Xan Saray, with two oak trees from 1530, tall, wide and absolutely impressive. The Palace itself is also a piece of art, with the front façade made of glass-in-wood, each piece hand made and each meter consisting of at least a thousand pieces. The interior is finely decorated with wood, and egg yolk paintings, depicting animals, flowers and a battle scene, despite being Muslim in origin.

Tired of the walk and all the sight seeing, we head back to meet our hosts, for a Turkish meal of lentil soup and pida or lavash/doner. Than back to the house, were we have a drink and find out about the girls’ lives in Şəki, prepare our beds and off to sleep we go. Daniela is to get up at 6:30 the next morning, but gives us her key and if we can throw it into the garden when we leave: she is off for a week. Lucy- her friend- will come and collect it.

In Şəki, tanks also have to be filled, and the water was off the previous night. Daniela left a note saying it never came back on, so I turned it on while the others were still slumbering. When they got off, I got a shout: a tap had exploded with water pressure and water was pouring out. We closed the city line, and then I got onto the roof to turn off the tap from the tank. Then the hard task to repair this tab, which we managed to do- or we hope we did. Back on the roof to open the tank, no explosion but the tap still leaks. Our final solution was to close the line to the bathtub, call Lucy, tell her and leave a note to Daniela. Then we set off to do the last bit of exploring, having decided we would leave by bus to Baku around 5-6 p.m. Route: Bazar (talking to a man who did his military service in Belarus, studied geography at the Lenin academy during Stalin’s reign, and was some big man locally after that. He regrets the fall of the USSR, but hates Russia, who is to blame for the atrocities of 20 January, and the lost war against Armenia. Especially Gorbachov is an idiot, and have a safe trip.
Lunch, supplies for the road, and crossing the river to see that side of Şəki… here we found an amazing hat-making shop. Not only was the man working there a real beauty, his hats were fantastic and 2 were bought. I am now the proud owner of a sheep smelling hat, absolutely a fantastic model!
The last round, back to the house for some tea, and off we set to the bus station. Exactly 6 seats were free, 3 in one bus and 3 in another, but than 6 in the same one, though they were only 5 but one woman squeezed in with her 3 children and used a seat less (got some cash back) and off we set. Some five hours later we were back in Baku, happy to get off the bus, tired and nearly, nearly home!