I decided to cross the border early in the morning as Azerbaijan is an hour and a half ahead of Iran and if I wanted to make it to Baku by nightfall then I'd have to do this. I was aware that my bags would probably be searched thoroughly to ensure that I wasn't taking out too many carpets or antiques. Ultimately I was through the border in under 20 minutes and the Iranian customs seemed more interested in shaking my hand and wishing me well than searching my bags.

The town on the other side of the border is also called Astara. I cleared Azeri customs and after having the faintest entry stamp stamped into my passport (I hope it won't cause problems when I leave because I can't even read the date on it) I made my way to the bus station using a mixture of Farsi, Russian and English. Fortunately there was a bus about to leave for Baku and so I hopped on for the tedious 6 hour (though in reality 8hr, accounting for stops along the way) trip to the capital.

There was an immediate difference in the atmosphere at the border. The most obvious thing I noticed was that suddenly the women in black chadors had disappeared and were replaced by women in colourful headscarves if at all. As we made our way to Baku, the faces changed too. A mixture of Turkish, Iranian and Russian faces became evident and reminded me of Azerbaijan's difficult history. Its position at the confluence of 3 great empires - the Russian, Ottoman and Persian - have left behind a wonderfully mixed ethnicity. The country has suffered countless invasions, it has seen religions come and go, it's had dictatorship and communism and recently ethnic tensions have flared up in the Nagorno-Karabakh region.

As we drive along the road we pass ramshackle and sleepy villages with farmers going about their daily business. There's still a Soviet feel to the country despite its independence in 1991. The odd sign is still written in Cyrillic and our decrepit bus has clearly been around far too long as it heaves itself and its passangers slowly towards Baku.

People here seem to carry their wealth in gold, and the safest place it seems is in one's own mouth. Most of the passanger has several if not all their teeth capped in gold. When they smile at me it really is a golden smile, though somewhat reminiscent of Jaws from James Bond!

Along the road there are signs with quotes by Former ruler Heydar Aliev - the country's recent hero in terms of his clever negotiations with oil companies that have made Azeri wealth soar. But we finally roll into Balu at 7pm and it's been another long day. Amazingly I resist the temptation to have a beer even now that it is freely available. Two and a half weeks in  Iran have had their effect. Surprisingly I don't even feel like a beer, but I doubt it will last!