THE RISE AND HIGH-RISE OF POST-INDEPENCE BAKU

THE RISE AND HIGH-RISE OF POST-INDEPENCE BAKU

Post-independence Baku is a perfect subject for a study in development economics. Today, in 2010, tower blocks and hotels are sprouting all over the city and grandiose development plans are mushrooming almost as fast. But post-independence Baku was a very different place. There were few tall buildings and satellite towns such as Xirdalan did not exist. Vermin-free and electrically-safe accommodation, with running water, preferably other than through the ceiling, in downtown Baku was a rarity.

Arriving in the late summer of1993, Baku had no quality hotels. There were basically five half-acceptable ones (i.e. with louse-free beds): the Respublika - not really an option as BP had block-booked most of its rooms; the Old Intourist (a not unattractive grey-coloured low-rise building), which was also not really an option either as two other oil companies, Pennzoil and Unocal, together with the British Embassy had taken over chunks of it; the New Intourist, otherwise known as the Azerbaijan Hotel, (an ugly high-rise now being redeveloped and intending to re-open as the Hilton), the Apsheron (mirroring in many ways the Azerbaijan Hotel and currently also being redeveloped and expecting to reopen as the Marriott) and the Moskva (Moscow) Hotel another non-descript high rise on the hill near the Parliament building, then popular for weddings and even in late 1993 was undergoing renovation (and is now being completely redeveloped, expecting to open as the Fairmont).

Of the three ‘available’ hotels (the Azerbaijan, Apsheron and Moskva), the Moskva had the better reputation, though hard to see why but for its wide staircase and an absence of the then ubiquitous Russian ‘floor-ladies’ (unsmiling ogres, invariably ethnic Russians, who kept their beady eyes on all comings and goings). It also had a bar, bigger though less popular than the one at the Old Intourist. The hotels did have one factor in their favour – with the country still at war (the ceasefire with Armenia not occurring till May 1994), their restaurants did at least have something to eat (even if the menu was limited to caviar – a treat the first few times but unappetising thereafter - sturgeon, chicken, hard-boiled eggs, pilov, tomatoes and cucumber. And bread and mineral water. There were always long bread queues in the city and a there were a couple of days when I recall mineral water was hard to come by (before a convoy of Iranian trucks arrived to save the day). The waiters wore black bow-ties, scruffy black jackets and crumpled white shirts, pretending at style.

But the Azerbaijan Hotel was still the preferable option over the Moskva, stuck out of the way up the hill. It was staying at the Moskva that I conducted my interviews to hire staff for Ernst & Young and where I consequently met some of the brightest people in the city. I was convinced one candidate, a senior employee of the Ministry of Foreign Affiars, was working for the intelligence services, his English being so good and his Soviet-era history as a diplomat (having resided in Vienna for several years). He, too, was suspicious of me and insisted on looking at the notes I was taking of our interview. We remain friends to this day.

But it was also in the Moskva where I had one of my scariest experiences. Taking the elevator to my floor it, for reasons unknown, failed to stop and kept going to the top floor. Realising there must be a fault with the machinery. I hopped out and decided to walk down. That was a mistake. It was only when I got out that I realised the top floor was being renovated, with all the windows removed, bags of cement lining the walls, the sun setting and the natural light fading, the wind gathering force and billowing up dust. I walked down two storeys only to come to a wooden barrier constructed across the staircase. With no human in sight and it getting too dark to see clearly, I ascended the stairs to call the lift, my only option. I went to press the elevator button. But where was it? The control panel had been removed! I was stranded. I had visions of starving to death without anyone knowing. Fortunately, before panic took hold, the dodgy lift came as if it had sensed my distress, the doors opened and I leapt in.

Although the Moskva had its scary moments, the other hotels had there own problems. The ‘refurbished’ ‘suite’ rooms of the Azerbaijan Hotel were poorly heated and even less well-insulated (the winter of 1993-94 was an especially cold one for Baku, with unusually heavy and persistent snowfalls) and I shivered some nights fully dressed. When I moved out of hotels to an apartment (which also doubled as the Ernst & Young office) on Nizami Street, near the railway line, I recall one winter night the curtains flapped horizontally as the north wind howled outside and, despite being fully dressed lying under two duvets on the bed, I struggled to sleep because of the cold. I eventually nodded off only to be woken in the morning by the staff arriving for work. I looked at my alarm clock to find its battery had seized up with the cold and the electricity voltage had dropped so dangerously low that the plug on my electric heater had melted.

Baku that winter seemed dreary, depressing, desolate and dead. The creaky tram/trolley bus network (since dismantled) was barely functioning and the few rusty Soviet-era Ladas and Volgas on the streets were targets then, as now, for the rapacious traffic police. On one occasion, my driver – who came equipped with his own white unheated Lada – whispered urgently for me to get into the parked car as he made to hand his papers over to a policeman. As I closed the door, he sped off, leaving the bristling policeman whistling for his money.

Not only were there few acceptable hotels in 1993 but there were few restaurants and no supermarkets. The nearest thing to a supermarket was the Viyana Store, a shop in Xatai, which stocked whatever the truck happened to bring, including toilet paper and out-of-date cheese (and where I once bought 36 litres of UHT milk, not knowing when I might see that luxury again). It was not long before quite reasonable supermarkets (the first I recall being an Israeli-owned one on Rasulzadeh Street in the historic part of town on the fringes of the Old City) and restaurants started to open (three Turkish ones in particular, including the Cinema Club on the Boulevard and a very pleasant one in a garden setting in Xatai). Bars were also starting to proliferate.

For entertainment, other than the bars, there were the Opera & Ballet Theatre and the Philarmonia. The former was an interesting diversion to see some delightful Azeri operas, and some uninspiring western operas and ballets. Soldiers on R&R from the battlefront would use the matinee performances for a snooze in the back rows.

And the Azerbaijani soldiers were not the only soldiers taking a rest from the fighting. There were also the Afghan mujahideen, strolling along the waterfront or relaxing in the Azerbaijan Hotel. And strolling along the waterfront was then, as now, one of the few pleasures an impecunious Azerbaijani could indulge in when the weather was good. The Afghan mujahideen, along with the rest of Baku’s males, would no doubt ogle the pretty girls (even though almost all seemed to have one or more glinting gold teeth). But the women in those days were quite modestly dressed: the first mini-skirted girl I saw was in the summer of 1994 and I recall she was given a mouthful of abuse from an older woman. Back then, you would never see men in shorts (even today a rare sight) – jogging would have to wait until there was a fitness club equipped with a running machine.

But all of this was before the Hyatt Regency opened in 1995. That was when the city started to buzz. Not only did it provide that fitness club and the first public space where a western businessman could feel relaxed and comfortable. It also had an important economic impact on the city. Before the hotel opened, British Airways had already started scheduled flights to Baku to meet the growing demand from the oil companies and oil service sector looking for opportunities in Azerbaijan. But the flights were dog-legged through Bucharest. Now, with an acceptable hotel to put up their crew, British Airways could fly direct. Once it could do that, more businessmen were willing to visit. And with a good quality hotel, more senior executives, unused to roughing it in Soviet-era hotels, were ready to explore new opportunities. Other airlines, such as KLM, also saw the opportunity to develop routes, and to use Baku as a stop between Tehran and Amsterdam.

The Hyatt Regency also formed the venue for the early meetings of the Baku Cricket Club (formed in 1995 but now defunct), two of whose early stars were a Dutch and American-Pakistani employees of Hyatt's management team.

The British Embassy and ambassador’s residence, too, moved to the Hyatt Regency (the former Naxchivan Hotel, a name President Heydar Aliyev insisted be restored alongside the Hyatt moniker). Britain’s first ambassador to Azerbaijan, Tom Young, was a Turkish speaker with a nice sense of humour and he developed a real affection for the people of Azerbaijani. Sadly, after serving with distinction as ambassador in Azerbaijan and High Commissioner in Zambia, he committed suicide not long after retiring from the diplomatic service.

The Hyatt Regency brought with it a casino (subsequently outlawed but popular whilst it lasted). Originally located on the lower-ground floor of the Hyatt Regency it was later moved to a newly-constructed adjacent building (now the Hyatt’s Conference Centre). It was not quite Las Vegas but it was a place where there was late-night entertainment (not just the gambling but a singer or pianist) and a cosy place for a relaxed meal. Other casinos opened, the biggest in the Europe Hotel, a stone’s throw from the Hyatt, and casino-tourism from Turkey came into vogue for a while.

It is hard to know what Baku would have looked like if the Hyatt had not opened. Of course, other developers would eventually have moved in. But the Hyatt Regency earns the distinction of having been the pioneer which spurred economic development in Azerbaijan.