It took me four hours to get from Dohuk to Erbil. However this time frame included a stop for lunch, about a dozen military checkpoints, passport check's, countless stops for the police as they want their photo taken with me, slow riding for thirty minutes during the sandstorm and wind, figuring out my route as some of the road signs were in Arabic and I had no map of Iraq... Just a scribbled note that a hotel receptionist gave me (which was completely useless) and a few stops to talk to the locals.
Really annoyingly my camera decided it wasn't my friend anymore whilst in Iraq and would only switch on when it felt like it. Unfortunately I missed out on some great photo's. I remember one time I saw four huge military pick ups with massive machine guns on the back and kitted out to the max. There were a dozen soldiers standing around them, I had to pull over and say hi to those guys! You just have to right? Anywhere else I would expect soldiers to be somewhat pompous, you know... Because they have a gun and you don't... But not in Iraq... Here they want you to drink tea with them! My camera decided it couldn't be bothered to take a photo... Some of the army dudes did instead on their phones, maybe one day I'll see one floating around on the net?
Me and Anthony had arranged a meeting place in Erbil's centre.... Which is where I met this trio of super helpful dudes.... They took time out of their day to show me the way!
Anthony is quite into his couch surfing and had arranged for both of us to stay with an American teacher living in Erbil. Bonnie, 64, lives in a secured complex in Erbil along with a surprising amount of other foreign teachers who all teach at the University. They have a sweet deal as they each get their apartment and utilities paid for and the apartments are huge! The first night the three of us went out and caught a cab to the Christian section of the city.... Why the Christian section? Because they sell booze obviously! We ended up in an Australian owned bar filled with expats and foreigners working in Iraq.
Bonnie had some crazy stories to tell and it was interesting staying with her for three nights. Two that spring to mind: She was one of the hostages kept in Iran duringthe 79 revolution and was held for 400 and something days, whilst a prisoner her back was slashed with a bayonet. She was in a car which was blown up by a roadside bomb in Kabul, Afghanistan and nearly lost her arm!
Remember in my last post I wrote about the Iraqi who paid for our pizza and told us to call him if we visited Erbil? Well we ended up calling him. He came to pick us up at night with his big Toyota Hillux and took us up into the mountain for a long drive to overlook the city. he bought us tea and then later ice creams, when it got late he dropped us of back at the apartment complex and would not accept any money.
Whilst Erbil was interessting it was not my favorite in North Iraq as to me it just had that all too familiar big city feel and cities are places I tend to always try and avoid. We spent 3 days there and then decided it would be a good idea to meet up in Zakho, a little city right next to the Turkish border. On the ride back İ only had my passport checked a couple of times as on all of the other checkpoints the soldiers recognized me. At a few checkpoints İ was however pulled in for a chat. İt was nice to see the soldiers as they were all a friendly bunch and they all loved making jokes. As a tip for angone riding through... They absoloutly LOVE it if you ask them if they want to jump on the back seat and ride back to England (or wherever your from) with you and imitate them carrying and shooting their guns from the back seat... Nearly every soldier İ spoke to said to me 'welcome to my country' I felt they they had a real sense of pride for their homeland. And again there was no pompousness, none of them were trying to act cool, hard or tough, no one was showing off, they were just genuinely happy to meet me and talk! Sometimes this would hold up all the cars behind me, sometimes I would move to the side for a longer chat. Big groups of them would come out of their barracks to speak to the crazy foreigner from England, some of them wanted to visit London, some wanted to talk about food, some wanted to talk about football and they love Barcelona (which became my new 'favorite' team) and I remember one soldier telling me it is his dream to become a rapper, that sentence was met with hysterical laughs from his comrades.
In Iraq, it is very easy to meet and hang out with the locals, just sit in a tea shop or shisha cafe, within two minutes someone will be sitting next to you. This person will be one of three people,
Either they have studied English and are keen to practice with you or
They have lived abroad in an English speaking country or
They used to work for the US Army as a soldier, special forces guy or if they're young then as an interpreter.
I pulled up outside the Apple Bar in Zakho. I waited for Anthony there. The owner Sarbast welcomed me in. The Apple bar sells freshly squeezed fruit juices and I was given an orange juice but was not allowed to pay. We spoke until Anthony arrived and then we went in search of a cheap shared room. We found one but it didn't have a lobby where I could wheel the bike inside so I went back and told Sarbast. I was then instructed to follow him to his house where i left my bike inside his Gated driveway. He then drove me back to the hotel. Me and Andy checked into a double room for peanuts. That night we explored the markets and went back to the apple bar to visit or new good friend Sarbast. After more fresh fruit juice which he wouldn't let us pay for the warm night suddenly turned into a massive thunderstorm, it was such a quick transition from a cool night to heavy rain. Sarbast decided to take us for a drive around Zakho and for a chat. He was such a nice guy and if you ever visit Zakho definitely go say hi!
I left for the border pretty early the next morning after saying my byes to Sarbast.
I reached the Kurdish border and as I arrived there were two helicopters equipped with huge machine guns getting ready to take off... Their blades were thwacking the sky, blowing wind, dust and rubbish all over the car park. I must have been less than 20 meters from the birds and if I'm honest I felt like an excited little kid.... My camera didn't load up in time and I missed the shot I wanted.
I did manage a crappy shot later on when another one flew over head
The Kurdish side was quite interesting. I went through the normal procedure of stampings and questions. Then I rode off. I was promptly stopped and asked for a ticket! Apparently it's a yellow ticket which needs to be purchased for 25USD... I did see cars purchasing those but decided it might be an idea to see if I could get through without one... So the police inspection people asked me for it.... My reply was 'I support barcelona' .... That didn't work... So I told them that the police at the previous checkpoint told me I didn't need one because I'm an Englishman (this of course was a lie)..... Their reply was ummmmm.... So I went with one dude to an office to speak to his boss... And he said I had to speak to his big big boss... Off I went with my new police friend to the big office, I could tell that this dude was important as there was no shouting outside his office and it was surrounded by armed guards.... This dude's name was Mustafa, and the young policeman did not ask him about the yellow ticket but about my paper work. The big man said I was cool and could go.. I believe he was assuming I had a ticket already as i was asked one question by him 'ticket'? my reply was yes. I got back to the police and said Mustafa said I'm cool... So they let me go. I was stopped again three times on the way to the Turkish side an each time I said Mustafa said I'm alright to go without paying! Each time I mentioned Mustafa's name they quickly said oh okay, go go no problem, I'm guessing he's the big cheese.
The Turkish side was a complete pain in the ass. A narcotics agent demanded from me another form of ID, other than my passport. There is no other form of ID, my passport is sufficient, what are you talking about... He didn't believe me and this went on for half an hour. My bags were emptied, my pannier rummaged through, I was searched and told to wait for another half an hour. Eventually I was taken into an office to be questioned.
What's your name, where do you live, for how long have you lived there?
What's your mothers name, what's your fathers name, what's your job, did you study, where did you study, for how long, (obviously I didn't tell them I studied war and peace), why did you visit Iraq? Where did you go in Iraq? Where did you sleep? How did you communicate? Don't you know its dangerous? Who did you meet?
Why are you so young and on a bike? We don't have motorcyclists coming this way? Where did you get the money for your bike if your a student? Ae you rich? Where are you going now? Why do you have so many Syrian stamps in your passport, why did you visit Syria so many times, where do you stay in Syria, can you speak Arabic, do you know what the PKK is? So on and so on and so on.... For an hour.... Until he was sure I wasn't part of the PKK. Once he was happy with me it all became more relaxed. I told him as I was leaving to tell his narcotics officer that the passport is sufficient enough ID for the English and we don't carry this other form that he was looking for, just incase other bikers come through. The man with a thousand questions apologized for the other officer and said he would have a word.
North Iraq was a fantastic place to visit. It was especially rewarding because people are not visiting it yet, there are travllers venturing in but no where near a big scale. This has meant that the Kurds are still interested in travelers and tourists as it is a kind of novelty for them. I don't believe the country and people will be the same once it becomes (if it becomes) a tourist hotspot and so I feel privalleged to have seen it now. Whatsmore I would urge other intrepid travelers to visit and experience what I have.
As a ps. as i was rıdıng back to Dohuk, a car kept passıng me and then slowıng down, passıng, and then slowıng down for about 20 mınutes. The reason for thıs was that the kıd ın the front seat was fascınated by my bıke and was screamıng out of the wındow and contınuously wavıng. I decıded to pull over. The father brought hıs chıld over to where ı had parked up and we saıd our hello`s. He dıd not speak any Arabıc and my Kurdısh was lımıted so for the fırst tıme I couldn`t communıcate ın Iraq. However, I belıeve he was tryıng to explaın that hıs chıld could not speak properly and had a mental problem. To me he looked lıke the happıest lıttle kıd ın the world. We shook hands and he could`nt stop squeelıng wıth happıness when we sat hım on the bıke. The father ınsısted on gıvıng me a present. I of course refused as they both looked very poor. He dıdn`t have much to gıve but a bıg smıle drew accross hıs face when he found a 17 ınch spanner and gave ıt to me. I refused half a dozen tımes... but he ımıtated fıxıng my bıke wıth ıt and presented ıt to me lıke a Japenese samuraı sword. I had to accept out of polıteness.
