Baku New Year 2008

Reflections on Baku New Year 2008....



The President threw an enormous New Year 2008 party for us (and for the four million other residents of Baku) down on the waterfront, near the magnificent “Dom Soviet” palace (house of the people). The press of humanity was so great (with folks even climbing trees to get views of the concert, and of a six-storey inflatable golf ball with laser beams and images of our benign, smiling, president projected onto it) that we snuck away to our favourite spot; an old dilapidated peer a few hundred meters out into the middle of Baku bay.

The wind blew gently in a direction so that, from their launch site, the exploding fire-works suddenly bloomed directly over our heads and burned-out cartridges plopped and fizzled into the sea all around us. We choked on cordite and ran for cover, doubled over, while the smiling man on the golf ball strode confidently across the world stage, shaking hands with statesmen and cutting ribbons.

Then Baku froze for three solid weeks. We watched from our balcony while Mercs, BMWs, Volga’s, Kamaz trucks and Lada’s pirouetted through intersections and elegant ladies in stilettos flailed, clutched madly at the sky, and threw their shopping to the gods.

Locals, expats, kids and even construction workers (the latter wearing hard hats for once), aimed snowballs at each other; Erich and I even dusted off our cross-country skis.

BP (rather thoughtfully) closed its offices and issued the following advice:

- wear rubber soled shoes;

- walk with your legs slightly spread apart and your arms outstretched;

- gather in groups near graveyards, scrabble in the dirt and, when foam builds in the corner of your mouth, scream “brains”; “I must eat brains”.

We’ve not actually eaten brains in Baku, at least not knowingly. On occasion we’ve not known what animal we were eating, or what part of what animal; and we’ve tried asking, but are always advised, condescendingly, “It’s meat!”