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Welcome to Iraq! What can I possibly say, I am in Iraq and I didnt think I would be 5 days ago. As I said in my previous blog a man managed to organise a taxi for me to the border and so I went. At 9am on 30th July I left for the border of Iraq. Whilst driving there we drove along the Syrian border and I could see over the military fence in Syrian lands. Little did I know that the border crossing would take a hefty 3 hours to get through, involving the completely unorganised nightmare that was VISA collection. They obviously havnt heard of queing out here! After some brief questioning about where I was going it was 'Welcome to Iraq' for me. I couldnt quite believe that i was in the country of Saddam Hussein, the controversial war and the heart of terrorism.....maybe my exploring had gone too far! Some might say suicidal or completely mad...at least thats what all the Turkish thought of me. However I beg to differ. Iraq has 3 distinct Muslim groups: shia, sunni and kurds. Northern Iraq, my port of call, is in fact rather safe in comparison to more Southern cities like Mosul, Baghdad and Basra.
I rolled into the border town of Zaho and was immeditaley hit by the 47 degree heat....jeans were a bad choice. My first objective was to get some money as I had absolutely no Iraqi money (dinar) at all. After an hour of asking around I simply couldnt find a bloody bank- not good. Eventually I found a man who drove me to a cashpoint but guess what, it didnt work. Needless to say I started to panic. I am in Iraq of all places and I have no money! Eventually he drove me to one out of town but yes you guessed it, it also didnt work. I was thus informed by a bank manager that my card wouldnt work anywhere in the arab world.....now I panicked. Would I have to go back to Turkey? All I had was 70 turkish lira to my name- about 35 pounds. I was promptly taken to a backstreet dealer who exchanged my moeny for me. Next decision was do I risk going further into Iraq with what i had...yes! I was taken to a little shack on the edge of a road out of town where a nice man decided to drive me to the next town with 3 other people, for next to nothing.
One thing I noticed is that everyone was wearing the typical Yassa Arafat headgear and they all spoke Kurdish, so my little knowledge of arabic wasnt going to go far. In fact at the beginning all I could say in Arabic was 'I can speak Arabic'.....hmmm very useful. Just one other note, they love their bodybuilding out here! Posters of Arnie everywhere! Well I got to the next town and waited for another taxi to fill up so I could go even further to a town called Amadiya. Whilst I waited in the heat, I watched 'Speed', had plenty of tea and sat chatting to old Arabic men. By the way I have spent the last 3 days conversing with kurdish and Arabs alike and I think out of 3 days I have understood 2 minutes! I find nodding and smiling with the odd burst of laughter does the trick.
At first everyone here assumes I am American and gives me a rather disgusted look. But as per usual the trusty Spanish passport comes to save me and soon the topic has turned to Real Madrid and Cristiano Ronaldo (I dont think they know the difference between Portugese and Spanish)/ As in Ecuador and Colombia, football unites people and over the last 6 months of travelling I have found that once you mention Beckham, Drogba or Ballack everyone is suddenly willing to be your friend!
Amadiya is a hilltop citadel in the most beautiful dry mountains overlooking a vast valley. Everything is so dry apart from a small strip of green in the base of the valley where the river flows. Amadiya was truly charming with a very rustic and sleepy feel to it: old markets, friendly old men in turbans and a surprisingly energetic and well-educated youth. I say surprisingly becuase on the rest of my trip the youth have been neither of those. I was dropped off at the top opposite a photo of Bursa'nin, the kurdish leader. I was befriended by a young guy with remarkable English who took me to a hotel and set me up. He informed me of the whereabouts of the local prostitutes and the bus stops- what a useful young man. He, like many people in Turkey and Iraq, said I look identical to a Turkish soap star who stars in a series called Noor. Apparently he is the Arab worlds heart-throb so needless to say I was flattered (it is only because he has blue eyes and blondish hair).
Later I met an Iraqi man who works for an international relief company. He was adamant that I must eat with his family at his house. Upon arrival I met the whole family from old mother and father to the beautiful young cousins. This was an interesting family as they were a mix of kurdish, sunni and shia which is a big no no in Iraq. In fact so much so that they had to flee their hometown of Mosul because Sunni fundamentalists tried to kill them. This is a common story in Iraq, normal people who have no racial or religious prejudices, killed or forced from their homes by a few fundaMENTALISTS. I sat down and had a wonderful dinner with them and discussed Saddam Hussein, the American and British invasion of Iraq, the Kurdish problem and terrorism. Like everyone they hate terrorism and are adamant that these fundamentalists cant be muslim because they have no hearts. They told me that in the West we think that they are only out to kill us whereas actually the West is small fry compared to the damage they impose on their own people. They also despised Saddam and for that are grateful of the war however they say that previously outlined promises by the Americans have not beee met. in fact Iraq is in just a bad a stae as before but for different reasons. Anywhere south of Mosul has no electricity becuase the Americans control all the oil and power stations. In the North they have electricity for 5 hours a day, controlled by the Turkish.....they really are caught in a trap.
Anyway enough of my political ramblings, aside from eating with them I went to a kurdish wedding! I was soon pulled into the dancing circle and was putting my left foot in, left foot out etc for half an hour. They even filmed me on the local news! One would think that the night ended there but far from it. As we drove home, Haj pulled into a military building, led me past alto of men brandishing AK47's and made me have tea with leader of the PDK (a democratic kurdish party). The man was so generous, like all the Kurds are, and offered to pay for my hotel, food and lift back to the border with party funds! In addition to this he gave me plaque with a photo of kurdish women on it to remember them by!
I really thought the night had ended and that I would be able to retire to my incredible hotel room which had a rockface in and a stream running through it. However the night had not ended. The owner of the hotel invited me to have whisky and beer (muslim country?) and plenty of chicken kebab. After having drunk a sufficient amount I went to bed and was caught out whilst peeing by the electricity finishing for the night. Not funny.
I had an incredible night in Iraq and the next day I was driven back to Zaho where I had a huge amount to eat and generally sweltered in the scorching sun. I tried to get back across the border but it took 5 hours this time, 6 checks, 4 vehicles and a whole lot of questioning. My taxi driver made me carry cigarettes across the border for him (about 1000) but they didnt seem to mind. I am now back in Turkey, on the Syrian border, and thoroughly exhausted. I hope that it is an early night for me. There is however no shower and a hole in the ground for a toilet...ooo its going to be a good night.
All I can say about Iraq is dont mock it 'till you tried it!
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