When I received an invitation to attend the International Carpet Festival in Baku, I already had some expectations. As a tourism professional with a focus on Central Asia and cultural heritage, I had visited many capitals, attended numerous forums and explored countless cities with deep histories. But Baku exceeded every expectation — not because it tried to resemble somewhere else, but precisely because it doesn’t.
The festival itself was a powerful experience. Held for the first time in an international format, it transformed Baku’s historic Icherisheher (Old City) into a living tapestry. Over three days — starting with a forum and continuing with public exhibitions — the streets became galleries, lined with traditional Azerbaijani carpets from various regions. Some were laid across cobbled alleyways, others hung between centuries-old walls. As visitors walked through, the distinction between exhibition and environment disappeared. It wasn’t just a display — it felt like home.
Each carpet told a story. Some reflected the geography they came from, others bore the symbols of generations past. Workshops were held where artisans demonstrated weaving techniques passed down over centuries. The open-air setting, accompanied by live music, added an almost cinematic beauty. I saw international visitors moved not only by the craftsmanship, but by the atmosphere — it was not a museum; it was a cultural embrace.
The spirit of the festival captured something essential about Baku itself. This city is not to be compared. It is sometimes called “The Paris of the Caucasus” by travel writers and influencers. Having traveled extensively across the world and worked across cultures and continents, I can say this with confidence: Baku is not a version of anything else. It is original.
The city captivated me to such an extent that I decided to extend my stay beyond the official program of the festival. Over the years, working across many regions and capitals has shaped in me a certain instinct — a sense for places that deserve to be understood more deeply. Baku triggered that instinct.
So I stayed.
Not for leisure, but out of a professional intuition and desire to listen, to observe, to walk — and to understand. And Baku rewarded it with insight.
Ready to dive into the rich tradition of Azerbaijani carpets? 🧵 Join the International Carpet Festival in Icherisheher, Baku, as we celebrate 25 years of Icherisheher's UNESCO World Heritage status and 15 years of Azerbaijani carpet weaving being recognized by UNESCO.
— Experience Azerbaijan (@ExperienceAZE) April 8, 2025
🎪 On May… pic.twitter.com/mQ7qpU82xf
I spent my days exploring the city entirely on foot. I visited local markets, museums, stepped into everyday places like shopping centers, and let myself experience the rhythm of daily life.
One evening, I went to the cinema alone and watched a historical film about Azerbaijan — in a language I don’t fully understand, yet still entirely absorbed. Baku made me want to understand everything: the stories, the signs, the people, the past. That, I believe, is the mark of a city that speaks to you.
Geographically, Baku is remarkably well-positioned. A short flight connects it to major cities such as Istanbul, Tashkent, Bishkek and beyond. But more importantly, it connects worlds: not quite Central Asia, not quite Anatolia — it is where the Caucasus breathes between Europe and Asia.
It is also the only capital city in the region located on a coastline and the Hazar (Caspian) Sea gives Baku a unique coastal identity. But make no mistake — this is not a soft Mediterranean town. The city is known as the City of Winds for a reason. The breeze here has character — unpredictable, sometimes strong, always present — shaping the city’s mood and motion.
Walking through Baku, I found a rare aesthetic harmony. Soviet-era structures, modern towers like the Flame Towers, French-style balconies, and traditional stonework coexist not in contrast but in conversation. The architecture doesn’t clash; it complements. Add to that the manicured green spaces, the sound of birdsong in city parks, and the remarkable cleanliness — not just physical, but visual and emotional clarity. This city soothes.
Art and culture are not confined to galleries. You encounter high-quality street musicians in parks, underpasses, and public squares. Some play the traditional tar, others modern instruments, but all with a level of professionalism that turns the city into an open-air stage. Baku reminds us that art should not be a luxury — it is a public right. You walk, you pause, you listen. And something shifts within.
Museums and cultural centers further reinforce this richness. And in every corner, you find traditional carpet motifs — embedded in benches, sidewalks, street lamps, and walls. The city doesn’t just showcase heritage; it breathes it.
Yes, Baku has traffic like any large city. But even there, I noticed something unusual: the absence of chaos. Drivers are patient. Horns are rare. There is a rhythm to the city’s movement — calm, deliberate and dignified.
And if you wish to take a break from the city, you can — easily. Within an hour’s drive lie places like Gobustan National Park or the newly developed Sea Breeze coastal resort, offering day trips into nature or seaside rest. Baku allows you to live both the intensity of the city and the calm of its periphery.
In the end, what impressed me most was the sense of coherence — visual, cultural and social. In Baku, even the people seem in tune with the city’s character: the way they dress, move and inhabit public spaces echoes the same calm elegance found in its architecture and streets.
Many capitals are layered, chaotic or disconnected — beautiful in parts, but lacking dialogue between those parts. Baku is different. It speaks in one voice.
A capital of rhythm, grace and depth — and above all, a city with soul.
