My mum and Josef are spending four months in Europe, house-swapping their way across the continent. In July they spent two weeks in a farmhouse in Burgundy, and they invited us to join them for a long weekend. Adrian’s mum was staying with us, so we all hopped in a hire car and drove down through the countryside.

As we had the rare use of a car, we made sure to visit a few of the more isolated World Heritage places along the way – the Château royal de Fontainebleau, la Basilique Sainte-Marie-Madeleine de Vézelay, and the Abbaye de Fontenay. However, the highlight for me was the Ferme du Château de Saint-Fargeau that I insisted that we stop and visit.

As soon as we walked through the door we were greeted by three hungry goats. I bent down to greet them and the white one promptly ate my map. I realised that it was best to return to reception and buy a bucket of feed. Returning with adequate supplies, they frantically ate out of my hands as if they hadn’t seen food for days. Adrian and I explored the farm further and found donkeys, piglets, calves, lambs, chicks, and ducklings to feed, then returned to the goats. They happily finished off the feed, with one little kid getting so enthusiastic that the bucket got stuck on her head until she managed to shake it off. The Ferme du Château de Saint-Fargeau may not have World Heritage status, but I still think it contributes to the common heritage of humanity.

On our way home from the Caucasus we spent a day in Riga, Latvia. Adrian told me that there would be cats on every corner. The souvenir shops were full of felined-themed merchandise, and we did find the Black Cat House, but the actual kitties hid from us in secret spaces. However, despite this minor disappointment, we had a lovely day strolling around the city and exploring its parks and cafés.

Our last few days in Azerbaijan took us out into the sun-baked oil-rich dessert plains. Often we could see the black gold oozing out from the ground, and the only feature on much of this huge expanse of desiccated ochre was hundreds of abandoned oil-rigs.

We took a very sweaty and unpleasant trip into the interior in a tiny bumpy little van, however we were rewarded with the chance to explore a field filled with bubbling mud volcanoes. There were large thick puddles that were slowly oozing down the slope, tiny ponds simmering energetically, and even one vent that occasionally made a sound like a very old man every and then shot crumbling dirt high up in the air.

Nearby, we also had the chance to view an astonishing array of petroglyphs at Gobustan, at least 4000 years old. By this time it was high noon, and the sun was unbearable. I could only manage to dash out for a few minutes to examine these carvings before again seeking refuge in the shade. It made me remember my Australian summers, and I wondered how I coped with months of this endless heat.

The natural gas deposits were incorporated into the religions of the Zoroastrians and the Indian. While John and Adrian rehydrated themselves, I visited the Atəşgah fire temple in Surakhani that was used first as an ancient Zoroastrian shrine and then as a Hindu temple. It was actually cooler to stand in the shade next to the fire than out in the sun filled courtyard. The current stone temple that envelopes the “eternal flame” was built around 1745. This flame is now less eternal, as the vast number of oil rigs around the site exhausted the natural gas deposits in 1969, and now the gas is supplied by an artificial pipeline and switched off every night.

From paata.ge

Back in the wealthy capital of Baku, the weather became enjoyable sometime after 9pm. We soothed our parched selves with some fresh pineapple juice and strolled along the beautiful promenade by the Caspian Sea. We said farewell to John and started packing our bags for our departure from the Caucuses.

Our first few days in Azerbaijan involved travelling through the Silk Road, and I loved the excuse to buy a couple of silk scarves and treat it as an educational experience. For Adrian it was the chance to stay an 18th century Caravanserai. Personally, I am more likely to choose a place with a bathtub and WiFi rather than celebrating the limitations of the past. I imagine the conditions must have been so much worse back then – bed bugs, poor sanitation, and long trips on horseback under the hot sun. However, one of my few rules when deciding on our destinations is “no camping”, so I figured I didn’t really have the right to complain, as it wasn’t like we were freezing in a flimsy tent in the middle of nowhere.

To further enhance the illusion of living in the past, we were lucky enough to witness traditional dancing and a Mugham opera that were performed in the central courtyard. A more modern touch was the half-dozen cameras positioned throughout the place, as the performance was screened on National television the next day.