A day in the country

This weekend I had the privilege of going on a real Iraqi picnic. When I first got here, I was surprised to see families and friends parking on the highway just outside the city, spreading blankets on the shoulder of the road and firing up their grills for a good old fashioned barbeque.

It’s so dry and hot here that any patch of grass or open land is fair game for a little mini retreat for a couple or family – I’ve seen them camped out on the grassy medians in the middle of wide boulevards, on flowery parking lot dividers at the mall, and on hillsides off busy streets.

So I was pretty excited when my student, Sahar, invited me on a field trip with her sister out to Shaqlawa, a town about an hour and a half away that is a popular vacation spot, especially for Southern Iraqis.

We checked out the other picnic spots on the way, where people park their cars after nightfall and small bonfires burn deep into the evening.







Then we entered Shaqlawa, a cozy little town that seemed a world away from the heat and dryness of Erbil. The mountains make the region noticeably cooler than Erbil and the deep red dirt is often spotted with tiny white flowers. It’s a world of soft rolling hills, trees (it’s been so long since I’ve seen lots of trees!) and a main street with dozens of candy shops, spice and fabric shops with their wares draped over the doorways and tumbling into the streets.

We planned to return after nightfall, when Sahar promised me the town would be bumping. We headed out to a graveyard and ancient church where Sahar swore she had heard voices screaming at night that stood at the front of a natural cave. We climbed up the hillside to the mouth of the cave, where people light red candles and wedge them into the rock face in the hopes that their wishes would come true.




Unfortunately we learned that the candles were available back down at the bottom of the hill so we saved our wishes for next time and headed down again for our picnic.




Finally we headed back in to Shaqlawa, and Sahar was right, the sleepy town’s main street was packed with people, sitting at neon-drenched restaurants, bouncing in huge trampoline beds, shopping for hats and trinkets and dancing in the streets with each other. Even at 11 at night, the streets were full, mostly of tourists who had come up from Baghdad and surrounding areas to escape the heat and intensity of the city.

Hello Iraq!

Two small tornados, six passport checks and a 10-hour drive later, I am officially inside Iraq. The day before yesterday’s border crossing was long, to say the least, piled in a car with three Kurdish men, who over the course of many hours asked Jon over and over again how he was doing and telling him that they were best friends, brothers, now. I was for the most part ignored, which was for the most part just fine with me.

After a three and a half hour drive to the border, we easily passed border control and the military guards even kindly let me take pictures in front of the “welcome to Kurdistan” sign. They thought it was pretty funny as I stood there with a thumbs up in front of the Iraqi border. In fact, they all took turns taking pictures in front of the sign with me on their camera phones, all six of them. I am very popular in Kurdistan.

It was supposed to be an easy couple of hours to Erbil, but we ended up making a stop along the way to one of the Kurdish men’s friend’s houses, who had gotten hit by a car about a month before. Within minutes of crossing the border I had my first experience with Iraqi Kurd hospitality. Inside the house, the entire family sat on cushions on the floor while the mother of the house (with a neck brace on) served all of us endless cups of chai and pistachios.

I was shocked to see the women in the family dressed to the nines, covered with spangled silks, sparkles and lots and lots of gold jewelry. One of the girls had just gotten married, and over the wedding albums they explained to me that it is traditional for the man’s family to buy the bride loads of gold jewelry at the time of the wedding. In addition to looking fabulous, the gold serves as a sort of investment dowry, pieces that the new couple can sell off over time when they need money for a house or a car. For now the young bride in this house was dripping with her new bounty, from her hair to her toes. Of course as we left they wanted to take pictures with us too… I felt very plain standing next to these gorgeous women and now each time a woman draped in black walks by, I wonder what is underneath.

When we finally arrived in Erbil after dark, we went straight to an outdoor tea garden where we ate and met up with our new Kurdish friend’s friends. It was a beautiful and elaborate place that served mostly Turkish food.

I’d like to say that our night ended happily there, but unfortunately we still had to check into our hotel. As it turns out, the hotel Jon usually goes to was fully booked… as were the next three we tried. We finally found a room in the grossest, dingiest most disgusting motel I’ve ever stayed in. No, really. The lights wouldn’t turn on and the bathroom had a Turkish toilet that stank up the place like a port-a-potty. Luckily, I was so exhausted that even the smell couldn’t stop me from passing out. I hoped this wasn’t an appropriate introduction to what will be the next few months in Iraq.