During my trip to Azerbaijan, I learned that my name, Sevinç, is widely used there as an Azerbaijani name, though it originates from Oghuz Turkish and is considered more modern in Turkey.

Turkey often refers to Azerbaijan as a “brother country,” mainly because of the linguistic connection. Yet when you look at Azerbaijan’s history, the Iranian and Russian influences are much more dominant than the Turkish one.

I visited Baku, the capital, and Sheki, a small mountain town. This journey helped me realize something rare for someone who is only 20: I am a person who needs the combination of sea, cultural production, public space, and visible female presence. That awareness alone made the trip meaningful.

Baku, although not as overwhelming as Istanbul, felt deeply layered: 
- Old City represented medieval stone architecture and history.
- The Boulevard symbolized openness and the sea.
- The Flame Towers embodied the modern power narrative that came with oil wealth.
- And the Soviet blocks stood as grey reminders of the past.

In the capital, especially among the upper-middle class, people speak both Russian and Azerbaijani - a legacy of 70 years under Soviet rule. They understand Turkish very well, largely because they grew up watching Turkish TV series, though I often struggled to fully understand them.

The economic gap was impossible to ignore. While Baku felt almost like one of Istanbul’s affluent neighborhoods, Sheki felt like a poor rural town. The contrast was sharp. In Baku, some young people travel abroad with the latest smartphones; meanwhile, in my hostel, an 18-year-old woman from another city was financially dependent on selling her body to a Turkish man. It wasn’t the first time I had witnessed such reality.

Sheki itself felt suffocating. I caught myself walking aimlessly, listening to music just to distract my mind. The public space was overwhelmingly male-dominated - I genuinely saw more dogs than women. It was a small, conservative mountain town with little visible cultural movement. I kept wondering how people live there without feeling confined.