Twice a year, a very special tradition happens in a very beautiful town of Azerbaijan. Azerbaijanis, Georgians, Ingloids, Americans, you-name-it, travel to a beautiful church outside the city of Qax to make a pilgrimage to commemorate St. George's DayOf course, earlier this year I was being dorky and decided not to be a joiner. Big mistake. I missed out on awesomeness. This time around, I wasn't gonna be a party-pooper and woke up especially early to make the 8 a.m. bus to Qax (about an hour and ten minute trek from Zaq).
Not only did I get to hang with some extra special Americans (all my PCV peps, holla!), but I also got to see several Az friends. I love "hey, what's up?" head nods. It makes me feel like I'm a local.
