I’ve
been surprised, and somewhat saddened to find out that most people in
Azerbaijan haven’t been able to see some of the beautiful and historic places
in their country. I hear the
reasons: I have no time, I have no
money, I have no chance. The last rings
true for me. When you’re a woman, who is
not used to traveling, organizing an expedition to someplace you’ve never been
seems impossible.
When
one of my counterparts said she’d like to go to Qobustan, I said “Let’s go.” When
she asked how, I told her, “We’ll get a bus, we’ll get a bunch of people to go
with us, and we’ll go.” She didn’t seem
to think this was possible, but when we mentioned it to our AzETA group, most
teachers were keen on going. The date
was set, and the bus was booked, the plan was made.
The
day before the trip, I asked my counterpart to call a phone number I had for
Qobustan, to make sure they knew we were coming, and everything was ok. We were assured it was.
Everyone
was excited getting in the bus, and we made a few stops around town to pick up
some stragglers. But when we came to the Qobustan highway exit, we could see it was
closed. Our intrepid driver tried to go
around the barrier, but a construction worker told him we couldn’t use the
road. Our driver did the next most
logical thing, and tried to go around the construction worker. It might have worked, except the worker
called to a dump truck driver to back down the road and block our way. As the
truck came closer and closer to pushing our bus backward, we had no choice but
to back up.
We
went further up the highway, found a place to make a U-turn, and approached the
entrance from the other side.
We parked at the museum, and piled out. I was so happy when I overheard one teacher tell another , “This is my dream come true.”
We parked at the museum, and piled out. I was so happy when I overheard one teacher tell another , “This is my dream come true.”
Unfortunately,
our euphoria was short lived. We toured
the very interesting museum, and enjoyed chatting and snacking under a nice
sunshade. Now, I thought, it’s time for
the real thing, to see the petroglyphs on the rocks, left thousands of years
ago. Then I was told we couldn’t go up there.
We couldn’t see what everyone wanted to see, because there was some "
work" being done there. An international forum was coming, and I think "security and safety" precautions were underway.
I don’t know if I was
the last to get the news, but I was definitely the angriest one on our
bus. We came so far – not in distance,
but in possibility- how could our dreams be dashed so quickly. They were.
This
could be a heartbreaking end to the story of hope and exploration, but
fortunately it’s not. On the way back, I
heard one teacher say to another she’d like to go to Sheki, and she had never
been. Several others said they wanted to
go, and they agreed to go two days later.
I have to admit I wondered if it would happen… But two days later, I got a text, they were
in Sheki. Now the door’s been opened,
who knows where they will head next.