We slept through to 11:30am - checked out of Backpackers Palace (which is a somewhat bizarre hostel, hosed in an enormous building and run by a couple of girls who barely know how to operate the till). I bought an SD card in the market, then we picked up fruit from one stall an had lunch with the old ladies at a hole-in-wall, stand-and-eat style eatery to the side of the meat section of the market. I had golubki. Matt had some random chicken thing - At 1 Lat each, with a charge of 3 cents for a piece of bread, we couldn't go wrong. A cup of kvass on the way out topped it all off and we walked back to explore some further sections of the old town.
3pm was our cut off point to get back to the hostel for bags and then out to the no.22 bus to the airport. The 4hr flight to Baku was largely uneventful. We arrived shortly before midnight and were decanted into the arrival hall where a number of scrums were forming for visas and immigration checks. We first had to queue to have our passports thumbed and stamped and then we stood for close to an hour in the visa queue.
There is ongoing uncertainty around whether or not it is even possible to obtain Azeri visas on arrival in Baku, but the process was smooth and trouble free. The visas cost $100 per person and we weren't asked for any letter of invitation. It really was that simple. We are both British, so I can't be sure of the situation for nationals of other countries, but there did not appear to be any disappointed travellers in the queue. A second passage through the passport gate was required and then we were free to get our bags and walk out to be greeted by a bristle of mustache toting taxi drivers. Of course we were ripped off by a taxi, who refused to quote, saying that we would use the taxi meter. The taxi meter wasn't. It was his odometer, which he set to zero. He then charged us at 1 AZN per km and a small margin on top . We kissed goodbye to 40 AZN and then thanked the driver as he drove away. Of course I was in my element en route, explaining where we had to go and then chatting a bit with the driver. At last I was able to crack open my Russian and let loose on some unsuspecting Azeris. Yay!
We were supposed to stay at 1000 Camels hostel, not far from Meridian. What a waste of time that was. Matt had booked two nights. We followed instructions in the dark, admittedly at 2am, but nobody was in sight. Yes, there was a camel drawn on the door, but it was locked from the outside with a padlock and nobody was answering the phone. We pulled out a lonely planet and decided upon the next cheapest option (which in fact is cheaper than the camels). Canub Hotel is a former Soviet enterprise, which still maintains all the charms of a dilapidated Russian gasteenitsa. We shook the door to wake up the sleeping guard, who sent us upstairs to the dejournaya on the first floor. The dejournaya - actually there were three of them - were in a side room. One of them was asleep on a couch behind the desk. The ladies beckoned me in and asked if I wanted a room. They started off quoting 30 manats for a two-bed room. I winced and asked for a smaller room, so we settled at 30 manats for a two-bed hovel with no air con. We threw our bags down in room 403 and took turns to wash under the dribbling shower. By 3am we were dozing off, with the sound of an occasional passing vehicle perfectly amplified through the open window.