Iraq and the Kurdish people
I slept the night in Silope, the Turkish/Iraqi border town. The next morning I rode to the border. The Turkish half was chaotic.
There was one tiny booth with one Turk sitting inside it. Around his miniature window was a mass huddle of Turkish men, totalling approximately 20 all the while more adding to it. They were like a swarm of Turkish bee's fighting over the worlds last flower. I noticed one guy standing about 3 metres away from the mayhem so I got off the bike and walked over to him. A scruffy looking Frenchman named Fredrick. He looked relatively calm, we spoke for a while. I was confused as to why he wasn't getting in there, was he waiting his turn? Of course, like many traveler's into Iraq he was in a taxi and it is protocol that the taxi driver takes your passport and does all the pushing for you. Whilst I was on my bike I had to do it for myself. I walked over to the booth and in a moment realized I could literally be there all day, with all these men waving their passports in the air, aggressively barging one another and shouting in each others faces. There was only one thing for it... I got stuck right in. I pushed and I shoved, I rammed my way to the front, people put their arms on me to pull me back but I stood strong and shoved them out of my way. Within a minute I was at the front. A barrage of profanities were thrown my way with guys shouting in my face and elbows being rammed into my side. All I could say or do in reply was put my finger to my lips and say Sshhh.... (they liked that). In the western world this was deemed as 'pushing in' but here it was a necessity, the normal way. They were all doing it and I realized if you couldn't hack it you should go home. It was a weird feeling though having grown men fight over a little window. We were so close together I could not lift my left arm up. Imagine being crammed so tightly in the middle of a bunch of Turkish blokes that you physically did not have the strength to lift an arm and wave it in the air as all our bodies were continuously pushing another. I slammed down my passport on the table and grabbed onto the window otherwise I would have been literally washed away by the sea. I was in and out in about 3 minutes.
The Iraqi side was a different story. It was very relaxed and very calm, professional men in large booths asked me questions as to why I was entering their country and purpose of travel. I was stamped in and sent on my way. Just as I was exiting, a soldier with an AK stopped me, he extended his hand and so I reached for my passport. He shook his head and smiled, I realised he just wanted to shake hands. As we did, he said "Welcome to Iraq, my friend".
I rode into Iraq and towards Dohuk. Not knowing what to expect. All I knew was that I had to be careful not to take the wrong turn and end up somewhere like Baghdad.
I made it to Dohuk, a small city and quickly found a hotel. The owner wanted $40 for the room. I told him I would not spend over $20. His reply was no problem, 20 will do. I had to stay in such a place as I wanted to have my bike in a hotel's reception instead of out on the street (a necessity in the cities).
I showered up and was eager to explore Dohuk and meet the Kurdish - Iraqi people. I had been walking around, drinking tea and eating kebabs for a few hours when I spotted a western looking guy walking past me. I met Anthony, 40, from the USA near the bazaar in Dohuk. We decided to go and get a cup of tea and talk. Anthony turned out to be one interesting dude, he has been traveling for 4 years around the world and has no plans on stopping. We spoke for an hour or so before a Kurdish guy decided to join us as he spoke some English. We had 3 tea's and he insisted on paying, it was our first taste of Iraqi hospitality.
We decided to meet up later that night for dinner. Three Polish film makers and photographers, Anthony and myself had dinner and then spent an hour or so smoking the shisha pipes and drinking tea.
Two of the Polish guys went home after, but me Anthony and the other decided to go find some beer. Before we left we grabbed a rolled up, delicious pizza style thing from next door to the Shisha shop. Before we could pay, an Iraqi who noticed we were speaking English, introduced himself and told us he used to live in Canada. He payed for our food and wouldn't accept our money. He then gave us his number and told us to call him if we visited Erbil.
The next day me and Anthony decided to grab a cab and visit Al Amadayah. A village perched upon a mountain.
We walked around the village and noticed one garden had a particularly nice view over the mountains. I asked the guy if we could come in to take some photo’s and we were greeted with water. The guy turned out to be an Iraqi 1st Lieutenant and showed me his military card. It said ‘Lions Division- Authorised personal weapon: YES’. So naturally I immediatly reached my hand out and felt the side of his stomach, sure enough there was a pistol under his shirt. I asked to see it and so he showed me! I LIKE GUNS. His brother who was standing next to him was also a soldier but in the Kurdish army and a Seargant.
After we had enough of the village we decided to embark on a long trek back down the mountain to another village where we had lunch. We thought it would be a good idea to see if we could hitch hike a lift home. Quite a lot of cars stopped for us but weren’t going our way. Eventually two dudes stopped and gave us a lift an hour away to our hotel.
The next day we decided to make our way to Erbil, Norhtern Iraq’s, Kurdish Capital. Anthony took a taxi and we arranged a meeting place in the city centre. Erbil is a 3 hour drive from Dohuk.
Dohuk itself is 80km from Mousul, one of the worlds most dangerous cities. To get to Erbil I had to ride right past it. As I dont have a map of Iraq I had to rely on specifically stopping and asking directions and the road signage which was predominately Arabic. Leaving Dohuk I asked a policeman for the right way, in his broken English he looked at me and told me the way but warned me:
“If you take bad road... then” To which he put his finger to his throat and made a slitting motion, he then poked his tongue out for dramatic effect.... and finally pointed at me.... “so careful Mr”.... ‘Well thats pleasant’ was my reply.
All along the way to Erbil were military checkpoints. At each one the army chaps looked more and more confused to see me. Each time, I was pulled over and asked what the hell I was doing. After telling them that I support Manchester United (which I obviously don’t) I was freed.
About ¾ of the way through the ride I come accross three Army/police guys sitting on plastic chairs by the road. They beckon me over to sit with them.
We sat chatting for five minutes, when I noticed that in the East the sky was bright blue, pretty much cloudless. However, in the West there was no sky but a mass haze of yellow, the whole of the west was covered in it and visibility was poor whilst in the east I could see out for miles. I asked the guys and they shrugged.... Hmmmm.........
One of the police guys hat flew off and tumbled down the road, the empty chair was thrown after it and the trees bellowed. My bike was 10 metres away from me and within a second I could not see it. That massive haze was a sandstorm. It had completely covered my bike and I had to run to it to make sure it hadn’t fallen over. The wind was phenomenal. Dust and sand was everywhere and we took shelter. I quickly realised it was going to take a long time for it to pass, it was 3 o clock and I did not want to arrive in a huge city after dark. I had no choice but to jump on the bike and outrun it... the police shouted after me ...”slow, slow Mr... go slow”. My reply was my exhaust can whacking off into the cloud of dust.
The wind was so bad I was literaly riding at a 45 degree angle. For half an hour the sand and wind blew me from lane to lane. Bear in mind there were no towns or villages to pass through, just desert all the way from one city to the other, this made it worse.
I will have to post the next section on Erbil and leaving another day as it’s kebab time.
In Summary. Since I have arrived in Iraq, I have had a completely unique experience. One that I have never had before. Kindness and generosity here is like nothing back home. Nothing. When I walk into a shop or restaurant here to buy a bottle of water they literaly refuse to take my money. Why? They say it is a gift for you. It has never been a one of but continuous. In many restaurants. When I was sitting on a step and taking a break, a group of guys came up to me, just to sit with me, offering me endless tea, smokes and water. When we ordered those pizzas that kurdish man insisted on paying for them. The guy in the hotel let me stay for 20 whilst speaking to the other guests I realised they were paying 40. When I left the hotel he gave me presents including after shave. When leaving a restaurant the owener did not want to accept any money he was saying no, no no. A man we just met took us for an hours drive up into the mountains, bought us tea, delicious ice cream and then dropped us off back home. As I was walking to the internet cafe today I stopped at a fruit stand and grabbed a bannana, again they wont accept money. When we had tea in a tea shop and went to pay, someone had already paid for us? Where do you get that on a continous basis in the west? Where are people interested and happy to see you every single place you go?
Northern Iraq, Under Kurdish control is extremely safe. More so than any western city. However, due to mainstream media and the western indulgence in it, it is difficult for people to comprehend that a place in Iraq is safe. As the word Iraq is synonymous with terrorism, war, destruction and insurgency. It is a shame for those who will not visit but an advantage for those who do. As they get to experience this unique Kurdish way before, eventually the masses arrive. By then they will understand tourism and I doubt very much the giving nature will be extended as freely as it is now.
I decided I had to have a photo with these cool dudes... Although, the two on the far sides made sure that the photo did not capture their feet as they were wearing flip flops and im guessing they would have got into trouble!
Peace
