Insideotherplaces

In praise of the boring bits of Azerbaijan

Of the three Caucasus countries, it’s Georgia which seems to be credited with a great tradition of hospitality and it is by no means unfriendly. It isn’t even in the same league however, as Azerbaijan. Many people are genuinely interested in greeting foreigners and don’t let the language chasm between us impede their generosity. Not once in Georgia did a local initiate a conversation upon making eye contact in the street, even with my habit of saying hello to all…

Soul of the city: Baku, Azerbaijan

Baku old town is everything any decent, respectable tourist could ask for: a UNESCO world heritage site with nice old buildings, impeccably clean narrow winding streets and posh cafes. I am not however, a decent, respectable tourist and the more I walked around the less I liked it. Objects protected as if in glass cases are fine for museums but a town needs life, soul and vitality. This was a sterile exhibit, stripped of its context and interaction with humanity….

Georgia: God and the Ford Transit

High up on cliff faces and on desolate hills are the caves that for centuries Georgian monks hid themselves away in to be closer to God, undisturbed by the comings and goings of everyday life and the temptations of man. These days their seclusion is rather diminished by the troops of tourists marching past in search of a slice of Georgian history, but at least it keeps the coffers full. Evidently the revenue streams of the good old days were…

Recipe – Tqemali, Georgian Plum sauce

Tqemali is a cold accompaniment to meals when a soury tang is required (goes well with Kofte kebabs I found) and I have interpreted as best I can Mediko Gvetadze’s recipe, which she dishes up in her wonderful homestay in Kutaisi. Unlike some culinary fascists who insist on there being only one way of doing a dish she was happy to say that plums can be wholly or partially substituted with apples, red/black grapes or pomegranates and quantities can suit…

Georgian Homestay

The old man’s face, rosy with the glow of alcoholism broke into a big smile as he saluted in greeting, then clasped his hands in a prayer like display of welcome and promptly dragged me into the cellar. Immediately a traditional drinking horn of wine was thrust into my hands, his stream of speech easily outpacing my mental dictionary of a dozen words in Georgian, but I grasped enough to say, “English” back to him. Effusive but unintelligible praise of…

Soul of the city – Tbilisi Georgia

Ladies and gentlemen I bring grave news from the Caucasus. Drawn by the sounds of hellish screams that any sensible person would instinctively retreat from, I turned a corner to discover the awful truth: One Direction had arrived in Georgia. Their fans were awaiting the start of their film at the cinema and displaying appreciation for their heroes in the way only teenage girls can. For those unfamiliar with this musical? phenomenon all you need to know is that their…

Women will have their day

I extended my stay in Boukoumbe in northern Benin to join in International Womens Day celebrations: aside from witnessing all the traditional singing and dancing to compliment the interminable speeches, I ended it in fine style lurching out of the village nightclub at 4 30am having jumped around like a sweaty loon for a few hours to some great music, virtually none of which would conform to the European idea of African music and was much the better for it….

In search of mother

At a café in a small town in Northern Benin, a young man asked if it was ok to share my table and I had to assure the waitress that I was only too happy to chat to a stranger who she assumed would only bother me. He introduced himself as Paulin and we spent a few hours discussing life, the universe and everything. It’s always rewarding to find someone interested and knowledgeable in African politics to get a better…

Either end of the West African food chain

I have been checking out the local wildlife, not to look at, but to eat though, principally agouti, which is a like a huge plump rat but actually of the porcupine family and a common bush meat in West Africa. The first time I tried it there was an overpowering, rancid stench which was a tad off putting, but I later discovered that this was just the way some country folk preferred it: once killed you leave it sitting around…

Chicken and fish – but not to eat

By the time I got to Burkina Faso I was beginning to get disappointed by the lack of sacrificial poultry action, so was delighted to discover the Sacred Fish Pond just outside of Bobo Dioulasso. Philipe, a French man I had met kindly let me tag along with his guide and 4×4 for a couple of days. After a short hike over wind eroded rocks, carved into a myriad of interesting shapes, we descended a narrow fissure in the rocks…

Insideotherplaces

In praise of the boring bits of Azerbaijan

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Soul of the city: Baku, Azerbaijan

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Georgia: God and the Ford Transit

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Recipe – Tqemali, Georgian Plum sauce

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Georgian Homestay

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Soul of the city – Tbilisi Georgia

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Women will have their day

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In search of mother

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Either end of the West African food chain

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Chicken and fish – but not to eat

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