📍 Baku Between Prayers

by Selene

I left Athens in the early hours, my suitcase half-full and my heart just the same. There’s something about traveling east that always feels like time folding in on itself — like you're chasing history instead of the sun.

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My journey began with ease, thanks to HalalBooking — a platform I’d heard about from a friend returning from Hajj. They said, “It’s where you book not just hotels, but harmony.” And they were right. The halal-friendly options made it easy to keep my mind on reflection and the sacred rhythm of prayer.

✈️ For the Pilgrims in Transit

If you're one of those luminous souls arriving from Jeddah after Hajj or Umrah, Baku is a beautiful next step — a place where the spiritual momentum doesn’t fade but flows into something quieter, slower. Airlines like Flynas and Qatar Airways make the journey seamless, and with Saudi’s multiple-entry e-Visa, it’s easy to return when your path circles back.

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🌆 The City of Wind and Fire

Baku means "city of winds," but it also burns — not with chaos, but with a kind of internal flame that dances in both stone and steel.

The Flame Towers rise above the city like guardians of the new world. Glass and firelight reflect off the Caspian Sea at dusk, casting a golden glow over the Old City below. Wherever I walked, they followed — like watchful sentinels of change.

But down below, in the maze of cobbled streets and medieval walls, time forgets itself. I wandered through the Baku Old City — a walled puzzle of caravanserais, sandstone homes, and hidden courtyards. The air smells of sumac and dust. I ran my fingers along the ancient stones and listened for stories.

Inside the Maiden Tower, I climbed spiraling steps and found myself looking out over the sea. There’s a legend they whisper about a princess who leapt from the tower — but no one agrees why. Love? War? Faith? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe she just wanted to be free.

🕌 Faith on the Edge of the Sea

I took a taxi to the Bibi Heybat Mosque, where the pale green dome rests against the azure of the Caspian. The mosque is grand but not loud. It feels lived-in — like a prayer someone has whispered every morning for a thousand years.

Here, I sat beside an old woman who handed me a strand of prayer beads. She didn’t speak English. I didn’t need her to.

🎨 History Woven in Thread

One afternoon, I stepped into the Carpet Museum — a building shaped like a half-unrolled rug, if you can believe it. Azerbaijan’s soul is woven into these carpets — some thick with tribal patterns, others delicate as breath. Each thread is a memory, each knot a name. I stood before a piece from the 17th century, more tapestry than textile, and wondered who had walked across it barefoot.

🏙️ City Life and Sweet Things

Later, I wandered to Fountain Square, where the city feels young again. Couples stroll past fountains. Children chase pigeons. You hear three languages in five steps. I ordered tea at a shaded café, sat beneath the linden trees, and watched the world happen slowly.

🍽️ To Taste Baku

And then there’s the food — my God, the food.

• I tried Plov, golden with saffron and sweet with caramelized crust. No two are alike — it’s like meeting a new friend every time.
• Lyulya Kebab, smoky and soft, reminded me of the markets in Istanbul, but with a sharper spice that made my eyes tear and heart warm.
• Dolma, delicate little grape leaves wrapped with secrets and spice, tasted like something passed down from grandmother to granddaughter.

📿 Next: To Derbent, with Dust on My Shoes

I leave for Derbent tomorrow — the wind tells me it’s time. I’ll take the coastal road north, where the cliffs rise and the mosques whisper.

Baku has been more than a stop. It’s been a stillness. A breath held in the body of a city.

Until next time,
Selene 🌙

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