Dave’s Ramblings – Yet Another Postcard From Baku (well kind of as I’m now in Warsaw)

November 6, 2025 Admin

Well, the football (and I use that term very loosely) was an absolute spectacle of disappointment. I won’t comment on the “match” itself – mainly because I’m still not entirely sure what sport I witnessed — but I will share a few moments from before and after this so-called event.

You’ll be thrilled to hear that we located a bar/restaurant about a 15-minute walk from the stadium – a fine establishment where the universal language of alcohol bridged all cultural divides. We spoke no Azerbaijani; they spoke no English. Ordering food and drink quickly became an international game of charades. I pointed, nodded, smiled – and at one point, I’m fairly certain I accidentally ordered a small goat.

The beer was gloriously cold and, to my amazement, cost just 80p a pint. Vodka shots were roughly the same price – not that we had any, of course. Absolutely not. Definitely didn’t have three.

Suitably refreshed (and only slightly more fluent in Azerbaijani beer language), we handed over the princely sum of £15 – including a generous tip. At those prices, Wetherspoons suddenly feels like afternoon tea at The Ritz. I half expected someone to bring us a crown and a corgi.

The stadium, in a moment of inspired urban planning, is located right next to Baku Zoo. It offers fans a truly immersive matchday experience — perfect for those who enjoy the occasional unexpected roar during their halftime stroll.

Getting there was… an adventure. We took what can only be described as a “creative route” through the zoo grounds. After a few confident wrong turns, we found ourselves face-to-face with several very curious tigers. The tigers seemed absolutely delighted by our arrival; we were considerably less enthusiastic. A quick splash of vinegar (long story – just accept it) persuaded them to reconsider dinner plans.

The hyenas, naturally, found the whole thing hysterical, while the parrots took the opportunity to heckle us in at least three different languages. The flamingos, as always, looked deeply offended — though to be fair, that might just be their resting face.

After the “game,” we made our way back to the apartment – wisely choosing to avoid the zoo this time. We had little choice, really; the giraffes were all complaining about sore throats, and frankly, we didn’t want to get dragged into another neck-related drama.

Naturally, we had absolutely no intention whatsoever of stopping for a drink. None at all. Not even a sniff. However, as fate (and poor willpower) would have it, we stumbled upon a pirate-themed pub. Now, honestly — what would you have done? It would’ve been downright ungracious not to at least poke our heads around the galley and say “Ahoy.”

The establishment was crewed by the most motley bunch of scallywags this side of the Caspian Sea. As we sipped our flagons of ale (all part of the authentic experience, you understand), they presented us with a series of… culinary curiosities. Sardines, chickpeas, and one mystery dish that may or may not have been parrot tongue. Hard to say — it certainly looked like something that had recently been squawking.

Throughout our meal, the crew never took their eyes off us. We weren’t entirely sure whether they were testing out a new M&S tapas range or sizing us up for the main course. Either way, it added flavour to a feast fit for Captain Hook.

We also noticed that all their tableware came from that well-known pirate supply store — Arrrrrrgos.

We made our daring escape from the bar on the port side – a strategic withdrawal, you understand, not a retreat – and were feeling rather pleased with ourselves. Fortunately, we remembered the age-old rule: never smile at a crocodile.

Good job too, because no sooner had we set foot outside than one appeared – teeth, tail, and all, looking like it had just clocked off from security duty. We froze, it hissed, and for one tense moment we weren’t sure if we were about to become the late-night special.

Thankfully, it seemed more interested in guarding the rum supply than eating tourists. We backed away slowly, dignity mostly intact, and agreed that next time, we’d just stay in and play cards. Preferably somewhere without reptiles, rum fumes, or parrots giving us side-eye.

By now it was approaching 2 a.m., so you can imagine our surprise when we stumbled across a car showroom not only open, but actively giving a customer tour. Nothing says “midnight impulse buy” quite like a shiny new hatchback at two in the morning. I half expected them to throw in a kebab and a free air freshener shaped like disappointment.

Continuing our twilight wander, we found ourselves in what can only be described as the Builders’ Merchant District — the place to be when you suddenly realize you might urgently need an avocado-green toilet. We weren’t entirely sure why, but we were definitely feeling a little flush.

The man behind the counter was the spitting image of Ronnie Barker. Naturally, we couldn’t resist the opportunity. We walked out proudly carrying plugs, O’s, four candles (or was it fork handles?), and a couple of spare ballcocks — just in case. Arms laden with random plumbing paraphernalia, we finally turned into our street… only to discover the local fruit and veg shop also open and doing a roaring trade.

They must all be bananas here. Still, I did manage to pick up the latest Apple model – Granny Smith, 2025 edition.

After a luxurious four minutes of sleep, we set off for the airport. For a brief, confusing moment, we thought we’d wandered back to the zoo – the fields were full of nodding donkeys. It took us 25 minutes (and several puzzled stares) to realise they were actually oil pumps, not animals.

At the airport, things went from surreal to circus-level absurd when we discovered the tallest basketball team in existence was on our flight. It made things awkward, not just because there were legs everywhere, but because the airline apparently had to open the sunroof so they could stick their heads out for the journey.

Let’s just say it was a long-haul flight in every possible sense — and I’m still not sure whether we actually left Baku or just dreamt the whole thing after too much cheap vodka.

Dave M