Akdamar Island

Welcome to Akdamar Island and the Chucch of the Holy Cross. There are the ruins of a monestary here that was built duing 915-922 AD, but this church was built later in 1296-1333. The bell tower was addedd in 1763. There is a story about an Armenian prince who had fled here, but the sotry which sticks in the memory is of a beautiful woman in the charge of the monks named Tamara and her lover who drowned trying to visit her. The words "Oh Tamara" became the name of the island "Akdamar".
The church is decorated with stories from the scriptures, stories of the lives of the locals at the times and with animals. The close up shown in the second photo depicts David and Goliath.
The third picture is of a stone (headstone) which shows the amount of detail in some of the stonework.



Inside the church... there are lots of bluish fading pictures of disciples and...


And the final picture is one taken on leaving the island. The boy kept trying to take photos of himself with the Turkish flag using his cellphone. A little humourous as everywhere on hillsides you can see the symbol from the Turkish flag with words I have been told mean "Proud to be Turkish".

Çavuştepe Kalesi

Çavuştepe Kalesi was my first visit to a Castle in "North Kurdistan". This Urartu (Ararat) ruin was constructed some time between the 13th to 7th Century BC! Although some of the stones remaining were the originals unearthed partlially by American archaeologists, some others were reconstructions... including the cuneiform writing on some of the bricks which was borrowed from the Assyrians, with whom the Urartians were at war with (is this correct?) Eventually, the Urartians fell and the Armenians settled... By the 6th C BC, the area was governed by Persian rule... and so on... (Was it two centuries later when the Arabs came and the Armenian prince fled to Akdamar?)

This ruin is famous as it is the best preserved foundations showing an advanced system of hydro engineering; water storage and as you can see in the second photo, the oldest ever excavated toilet!

The final picture shows what the castle might have looked like way back in the 13th Century BC.

Hoşap Kalesi

I haven't so much to say about this - the third stop and second castle of the day! It is not in the same state of ruin as Çavuştepe, perhaps because it was built relatively recently- in 1643 by the Kurdish Mahmudi Suleyman.
It was locked and we couldn't enter, but I think the best view was from the road anyway.
And this final picture is of a young boy trying to sell ozeliks his mother made. I don't actually know what the correct spelling is or what they are for, but I imagine it is for some form of protection... Information anyone?

Van Kalesi @ Sunset

Van Castle - 9th Century BC, another example of Urartu ruins, was the last stop of a long day of sight seeing. It is situated at the edge of Van and seems to be a popular spot for locals on picnics as there is a large park at the foot of the castle. We didn't stop however, to snack or relax, it was a brisk hike up the "mountain" to catch the sunset over Van and the ancient Tushpa plains.

After sightseeing, we stopped before coming to the center of town for dinner at a place called Hanedan Sofrasi - a restaurant perched above a huge Migros. I write this here so that if I return to Van, I can revisit. Although not particularly special, the facility was clean and the Ayran Corbasi was GREAT!

Otogar to Otogar

(Come back and read these later as I wıll be postıng pıcs and fıxıng the language later - fındıng ıt dıffıcult to thınk AND type on thıs Turkısh keyboard.)

Today marks the end of a long extremely hot and dusty 2-day journey overland from Erbil to Van ( a city on the east coast of Turkey).

Who knew the border crossing would be so much worse this time? Thanks to Vin who recommended a taxi driver, we (B and I) rode all the way in comfort in an air-conditioned cab ınstead of squashed together with 2 others in an old dusty one... the killer was the 2 hour border crossing where we inched along a bridge under the scorching sun, waiting our turn to go through the first of 2 checks on the Turkish side (having already completed many of the Iraqi side).Unfortunately, being women, we did not have the luxury the men had of squatting between the tires of the lorries for shade. Finally we arrived in Silopi at the Otogar but as there were no buses to Van until the morning, we took a bus to Dıyarbakır... and then spend another entire day on the road to Van.

Now I am ın Van and wıll start my vacatıon. (Donit ask me how I chose Van...normally, I do a Google ımage search for places I am consıdering, but Van was impossıble - a search just brıngs up motor vehıcles ın Turkey or vehıcles contaınıng turkeys...) So I came based on the fact that ıt was described as a modern city (a place to go to the gym and buy necessıtıes not avaılable ın Hawler?) ın additıon to beıng a jumpıng off poınt for travellıng. But as ıt turns out,Van is really rather small... I donit thınk I wıll lıkely fınd a gym, but B wasable to fınd her contact lens solutıon and mıgrane tablets. For tomorrow and the followıng day, vısıts to lots of famous sıtes are planned...lıke the sıte of Noah, Ark (Mt.Ararat), some castles and Armenıan churches. But for tonıght,I am goıng to relax ın the hotel lobby and maybe even have a beer to celebrate arrıval!

Staying Cool

This morning I got up to honor a 9:00am appointment with a student. At the time I was supposed to leave, I could not find my keys anywhere... I spend about 5 minutes that felt like an eternity looking for them (as you know, I don't have the option of leaving the door unlocked). Anyway, finally, I opened the door only to realize I had left them in the door all night. Anyway, along with the keys was a little note from TF saying that... Yes, I left my keys in the door all night... and goodbye until September.

W in Tokyo asked about summer holidays here... What can I say? CW has gone back to Canada, Tf and Paddy left yesterday; one for Turkey and the other for somewhere in the UK. K is off to the US via Jordan and B and I will share a cab into Turkey before she goes on her way. I on the other, need to be back in a week or so. Anyway, in answer to her question as to what people do over the holidays here, the answer would be that they try to stay cool... literally. They go to the mountains, they try to find a reasonably clean swimming pool, or they stay home and sleep.

Police offer tea and cigarettes

After shopping today, Tf made lunch and as Paddy decided to come, Tf asked to serve it as my flat (it being marginally cleaner than his own). Lunch, although good, was not really much to blog about... but lunch conversation was. Paddy, the guy who was held at the police station for 12 hours filled in the story (posted yesterday). Seems he came home at about 1:00 AM, but after climbing over the wall, walking across the grounds and approaching our block, he noticed 2 guards with their guns up and aimed at him. He held his arms away from his sides and stopped. They guards took him to the police and took away his phone. It seems they (and not Paddy) were the ones who called Tf at 3:40 AM in random calls to everyone in his recent call list. Seems however, that they didn't treat his so badly: he was offered a room with a mattress to rest in, tea and cigarettes.

Tf cheers Iraq on to victory in his green jersey

Since I am not really a fan of football (soccer) - or for that matter any form of spectator sport, I can't tell you who the player holding up the football jersey is. However, I can tell you today is a big day for Iraqi sport. Iraq beat Korea 4:3 today to take their place in the Asian Cup finals for the first time EVER!

And today was my first time ever to Hawler's sports market. It is near the main market pretty much under ???? hotel. It was filled with football jerseys, balls, a few iffy-looking treadmills with those bands for jiggling off tummy fat attached, and lots of sport shoes, both real and fake (You save a lot of money by forgoing the final "l" and buying Diese footwear). I bought a set of 3kg hand weights and Tf picked up his green Iraq jersey complete with his name and favorite number 7 ironed onto the back. I presume he was wearing it when Iraq scored that fourth goal.

School's OUT!

Well, today was the last day of work, and it has been interesting to say the least. The exam results were given out on Monday. The smallish number of students who passed ALL of their exams and were assigned a department were happy, overwhelmed, emotional - some nearly to the point of tears. One student said to all of his teachers (individually of course), You're the best teacher I ever had!

Unfortunately, the response of those who didn't pass all the exams - those required to rewrite one or more of their exams in September - was equally emotional. Yesterday and much of today were taken up with appeals... TONS of them. Some students went to all the teachers (even ones who didn't teach them) several times each trying to get their grades changed. Only a paltry few admitted that failure to reach the required level on such-and-such an exam might possibly be linked to something they had done or failed to do. The majority did everything from suggest that the marks were unfair on the grounds that other less clever students got better marks, accuse the teacher of acting on a personal dislike of a particular student, beg to have their exam marks altered... and one or two even went as far as to threaten to go to Baghdad and walk along RPG alleys (with the consequences falling on our heads). A few students (with political/social status?) tried unsuccessfully to go over our heads and get the dean to order us to pass them without rewrites.

As I can't say that I have ever had this experience before, it causes me to wonder how grades are assigned in other institutions here.

Detained...

I am afraid that MY version of today's story is not the most interesting angle (not being the detainee), but I shall share it nonetheless. B and I arrived back at the gates to Naz City early today as it was the last day of work... and as we were getting out of the taxi, the security guard rushed up to us and asked if we spoke Kurdish, Kurdi dazani? I replied that we didn't, but he continued talking rapidly anyway. All I was able to catch were the odd words: mamosta (teacher), Sallahadin (name of an area), asaish (police station) being the main ones.... oh yes, and the name of our University. We explained that we didn't teach at Sallahadin and went back to our block where we ran into Tf. After hearing our story, he told us that at 3:40-something AM, he had missed a phone call from another teacher with whom we had all been out at the Edge with earlier in the evening... and whom none of us had seen since the time when we left the bar.

2+2=___.

Anyway, we all went back to the front gate and had the guard talk to a Kurdish university administrator over my mobile. After hanging up, he apologized and attempted explaining the situation again. This time, armed with new information and assisted by the guard's emphatic guesturing, we were able to understand that the teacher had come back late. And rather than walk around the huge complex to the entrance, he climbed over the wall, was seized by guards and taken to the Police Station. The police took away all his things (including his phone) and so he sat there from 3:40-something AM until approximately 2:00 PM today when admin went to rescue him. I guess it is good to know that security is stricter with people climbing into the complex than people climbing from apartment to apartment over balconies (Scroll down to July 13th).

You're NOBODY without...

MONICA. The picture of the row of white Toyota Landcruisers (Monicas) is taken in front of Erbil's very own fake Sheraton (featured in some of the posts on this blog)! And I am a faker too because I didn't take this photo, but rather poached it from the TIME Middle East blog. In his post, A.L. Butters unintentionally answers a question I posted in this blog less than a month prior to his article.


And what Mr. Butters writes in the latter half of his article is true. A close friend recently has decided to take another project in Kurdistan -after a period of business inactivity in this region... but that means he must also start thinking about purchasing another Monica because as he explained, "No one will take you seriously without one!"

Thursdays in Hawler

Yes, I am aware that it is in fact Sunday, but as I didn't post over the weekend, I am catching up. Thursdays are the first day of the weekend for most people in the Middle East, but is the last day of the work week for us at the Uni. Every Thursdays at about 6:30 or 7:00pm, there is a shuttle from our accomodations to a supermarket chosen by popular consensus. I usually don't go, but this week, I decided that maybe it would be more convenient to cart the groceries with a more sympathetic driver than a taxi hailed from the side of the road. And mabe I would join Tf and Vi in the now routine Thursday night trips to the Edge. But as is also usual for a Thursday, I arrived home completely exhausted, and unfortunately fell asleep and missed both weekly events.

Bottom Feeders - From Carp to Catfish

Scallops, prawns, oysters, red snapper, tuna, salmon... lately I have been craving fish. Not such a good thing to crave in the middle of a dusty desert. Here, most of the food is heavily meat-based (think kebab)... even other food like kefta, dolma and lahmajun are made with, filled with or covered with mutton or lamb. Sigh! I have even relented and taken to eating it when chicken or vegetarian dishes are not an option.

But occasionally, when eating out, I can order fish. However, this fish - a local river fish - is filled with little bones that seem to be entirely disconnected from the spine of the fish (hence impossible to easily remove). A little research would seem to indicate that this fish (which local people have as yet to confirm for me) is carp... a fish I never would have eaten even while living in North East Asia as it is a bottom-feeder.

Hence whenever I see something "exotic" in the supermarkets, I snap it up, even if I don't know what it is. Last week I saw frozen fillets in Aya supermarket and thinking that this might be bass, I bought it. I even cooked it as bass (which, although edible, wasn't so nice as the flesh wasn't as white or as nice a texture). As an afterthought I decided to check the wrapper and discovered that it was actually "Basa" not bass and that it was from Malaysia. I looked it up. Turns out that this is a kind of catfish originally from the Mekong Delta. Fishermen keep them in cages tied to the stilts keeping their houses above water. Great... ANOTHER BOTTOM FEEDER! (Just what Kurdistan needs)

This picture actually has nothing to do with the post. I post this picture for my mother's benefit since she might be amused to find that in the past 3 weeks, Canadian canned fish (tuna, oysters, mussels and herring) from her little Maritime province are suddenly available in every supermarket!

After the glorious uprising of 1991...

The title of this post is a line that appears in perhaps 80% (no exaggeration) of the essays I receive from students, no matter what the topic -- gender relations, globalization and migration, technology, education... even advertising! But despite the fact that almost all students (for obvious reasons) frequently refer to the uprising of 1991 and wear their nationalism on clear display , of course they vary greatly with regards to their optimism or lack thereof for the future of Kurdistan and their opinions concerning US involvement in Iraq. Having just completed reading the final round of essays from this year's lot, I decided to remind myself of this by posting links to stories referencing the uprising by the WASHINGTON POST and NOW TORONTO.

Nesting

Many residents don't really like the accomodations here at Naz City, but I am not one of them. It is true, the complex is far away from everything... including the reality of life for most in Kurdistan. (Please note here, that I would be equally happy in a villa in a regular residential part of Hawler, complete with only partial electricity and Hawleri neighbours)! But I am happy to be out of New City where I felt like the owners were like my jailers.

Although this apartment is only on temporary loan until I either decide to leave or fate decides it for me, I have accumulated enough stuff to make the apartment (despite the fact that it is identical to everyone else's) feel like my own. Perhaps it is due to the Kurdish rugs (again many of us have purchased a few - or more), strange gifts from Sol that I have carted back from Paris, some books, and the contents of the kitchen cupboards- contents consisting of wierd things (or at least not common in Hawler) that I go to several different supermarkets to puchase; coconut milk, balsamic vinegar, tamarind and saffron from Aya, microwave popcorn from New City, baking supplies, brown sugar and Italian tortellini from Barz Rose and of course the staples from Nazaa Mall.

Anyway, for those of you who want to know what the place looks like, here are a few photos:The picture above is the view to the left (from my living room balcony). The sun comes up in the gap between the two buildings. It is roughly the direction of Ankawa. And of course the picture below is the pool.
Below is my living room. Yes, the gold sofas, curtains etc might not have been my choice, but after removal of the sofa cushions, the sofa is actually quite comfortable to sleep on. (The floors are a real pain to keep clean given that great amounts of dust/sand blow in whenever the doors/windows are open).
And the two photos following are of the kitchen. It is quite large and I would like to get a white plastic picnic table and chairs to put in front of the window... Plastic so that I could also move it all to the balcony and maybe take advantage of the built-in barbecue there. (I haven't done this yet as everytime I go on the balcony in the evening, the mosquitos are the only creatures partying).
The final photo is of the master bedroom. It is too big to get a full view, but the doors on the right are those to the walk-in closet. The photo is taken from inside the ensuit. Aside from this, there are 3 other rooms; a spare bedroom (minus furniture), a smaller room which I use to dry and iron my laundry in... and an office space which is as yet unused due to inadequate lighting. Will post pictures of those rooms if I ever get around to cleaning them.

Monday Morning in Kirkuk

"Please can't you tell me if I passed reading? I am going home today and won't be here to collect my marks next Monday..." Many of the students come to us IMMEDIATELY after taking their last exam requesting to know their final scores (as it we could have marked them in the 2 minute gap between collecting the papers and walking to our offices)- scores we don't give out until a week after the exams. So I told D, a Kirkuki, to go home and I would email him his results so he wouldn't have to come back from Kirkuk - a place I have only passed through on the way to Sulemaniya... The scary thing is pictures below (taken today) are of the road I passed through Kirkuk on... and which Mu takes 2-4 times a week... and which I hope D wasn't on today.
85 dead and 180 injured have been counted so far from this morning's triple bombing in Kirkuk. This truck carried one of those bombs. Some of the people who died were those trapped in a bus that caught on fire.
As I can't bear the photos of people, the below photo appears to be of a cow being carried away from the scene on a make-shift stretcher.

These photos are from Mu's friend Mu, who for some reason was working from my house for part of today - a journalist receiving photos from Kirkuk via the internet and giving live interviews over the telephone. I am almost too scared to watch the news because the death toll climbs hour by hour (I guess it will reach 200) and some of the photos received from Kirkuk were too gruesome to mention or post here. Reading the news doesn't offer much food for optimism. Instead of the news tonight, I will read D's essay on the Arabization of Kirkuk, Article 140 and why he believes it should be implemented without delay.

Braving the heat

The Iraqi sun is hot and Hawleri residents range in suntan color from as pale as a parasol-toting Korean girl to as dark as some in the South of India. And although half my blood is Indian, I have stayed a 'nice' yellowish colour since my arrival here. Generally staying well covered up to avoid a shameful exposure of skin doesn't really lead to summer comfort or a good tan. Today I decided to brave the heat... and the shame of being seen in a swimsuit during daylight hours. At about noon, Tf and I went for a swim. We have noted that from about 11:30am until about 2pm, all the residents of Hawler seem to be home (or somewhere hidden)indulging in a little siesta... hence Tf and I were free to splash about in relative peace... that is after a couple on a balcony got tired of watching.

After drying off etc, we taxied off to the bazaar. After several weekends of unsuccessfuly trying to find someone to fix his watch strap, Tf found a shoe repair man (not one of those guys sitting on a crate on the sidewalk with a shoe form and some superglue, but a real one with a sewing machine and bags of various types of shoe 'materials') in a side alley off of Bata Bazaar. Tf's watch was stitched back together, two pairs of my shoes has the lifts on the heels replaced and a final shoe had the strap glued and nailed back in place... the total - less than $2.00 US for the lot! Then I made my most expensive purchase in months... $35.00 for a DVD player - a skinny silver and black deal with the SAMSUNG logo glued on slightly askew! Logo - Korean, product - made in China like all the other fake products on the market here.

Anyway, now I am at home doing laundry, watching a DVD and admiring my suntan lines. Can't wait for my next weekend off. Tf says there is a bowling alley - even the days or events that would have been most ordinary back home seem fantastically exciting here.

Balcony Balancing Act

Yesterday was Friday, and hence a pretty quiet day in Hawler. Not only are many of the shops closed, there appear to be even fewer of the limited number of taxis passing in front of "Skokal Zakaria". Anyway, I decided to take Mu along and try to catch one of those elusive taxis and do some much needed grocery shopping (major grocery stores are open at least).

Click, my front door latched behind me at the very moment that I realized I hadn't picked up my keys. ****! The shameful part is that the only way to get back in (or so I thought at the time) is to call Abdullah, the building maintainance guy, and try to explain to him in a language he doesn't understand (English) that he needs to come help some silly foreigner who is absent-minded enough to lock herself out... AGAIN! After a frustrated call in which I couldn't understand any of what Abdullah was saying, I had to ask Mu to call him back and ask in Turkish or Kurmanji. Abdullah explained to him that the master keys had been handed over to the chief university administrator... OK, so I called her, but her phone was switched off. What to do? The university administrator could possibly leave her phone off for the entire weekend...

We chose to ring Tf's doorbell. He said there was a bucket of keys on the first floor. So barefoot, he tiptoed out of his apartment looking like he had just woken up (at 5:30pm) to take me 3 floors down to the storage unit with the keys. Sure enough, there were buckets of keys, but none of them the right ones. So finally, Mu -whose idea it was to ring Tf's bell- ventured out onto Tf's balcony, stepped up on the spare canister of gas for the oven and balanced precariously on the ledge of the balcony. Hugging the wall dividing Tf's balcony from mine, he managed to manouver himself around it and over the ledge onto my balcony. While it was a big relief to not have to spend my weekend locked out of my apartment, it is slightly worrisome that it is so easy to break in... and that none of the security staff noticed this event taking place.

Failure to wave

This post really needs a picture (I promise one as soon as I fix my camera). Prominantly near the middle of major intersections in Hawler, there are little boxes where traffic police (or are there special titles for people who direct traffic?) stand.

Recently, after an unsuccessful attempt to get one of our students admitted to the Korean hospital (we didn't have a pass to get in), we were leaving the long dirt road that leads out of the Korean military base and back onto the road when a traffic cop stopped us. RE, the driver, was asked for his license and registration... then he allowed us to travel on our way. As we drove away, I asked RE why we had been pulled over. Even though it doesn't seem to be a law here, we were even wearing seatbelts. There seem in fact to be so few road rules that I couldn't begin to imagine why, with our very responsible driver, we had been stopped. It appears that before pulling onto the road, RE failed to wave at the officer.

40 Degrees Celcius

It is now 6:20 pm and the temperature has cooled down to 40 degrees. From my 4th floor balcony, I can see the pool shimmering and sparkling seductively at me; but the splashing and shreiking of children cannonballing in from the sides of the pool dull my enthusiasm a little however... This evening at midnight will be time enough - that has been the usual timing of any evening swims. It is hot enough now that the water is still warmish even at midnight.

I have been in the pool a little more often recently. There have even had a couple of late night "pool parties"! The last one was too long ago - Vin actually braved a sexy black bikini, Tf demonstrated his amazing ability to swim half the length of the Olympic length pool underwater (I can't swim more than 10 feet without coming up for air) and Mu's Nokia mobile went diving. Vin noticed something blinking at her at the bottom of the pool. Tf dived down to investigate and surfaced with the latest Nokia mobile... I didn't know they could function underwater! Actually, it suffered from a cold that night, but after a little warming up from my hair dryer...

Anyway, I think it likely that I will enjoy my midnight swims as much as possible for the next little while as it would appear that they are putting up a wall around the pool. I wonder how that will change life. It will probably mean that there will be fewer hours in which women can swim... and the staff will finally be able to enforce the admission fee. But it may also mean that women can swim free from oogling. I guess I will have to wait and see.

Silence

For all my regular readers, I am so sorry for the long silence. In my defense, I have not had Internet at home until just last week... PLUS, the people from Turkey who service the air conditioners at the University were unable to come/fix the air conditioners until only this Wednesday past. And if you are thinking I am a big wimp, the temperature in my office was only slight below the 48 degrees C outside. Anyway, these two no longer constitute an excuse as both problems have been rectified.

However, the real problem is that my digital camera is broken. I am never sure that words will be enough to describe life here without a little visual clue. Anyway, vacation time is coming up and I will do my best to fix my camera soon.

the EDGE

Although this post could easily be about how all the staff and students at the Uni have been on edge recently with finals coming up... it isn't! "The Edge" is the name of the bar located just inside the gates of the British Embassy compound (correct info?). And to think I managed to live here for almost 8 months before visiting the only real western bar...

So how was it? For those of you who have been to Korea, think military bar in Itaewon: Loud music, smoky, lots of big buff American guys drinking beer, playing darts and shouting to be heard over the music. Last week, there was also a largish group of teachers from the Chouefat International School celebrating (via karaoke and line dancing) that term was over... and a group of Ethiopian workers who proved to be very fun on the dance floor. This week proved to be more of the same minus the karaoke and the Ethiopian women. We (Vi, Rst and I) took Mu, although this was perhaps unadvisable since it is especially hard to make conversation in English when the native speakers are drunk and shouting over music.

The unfortunate thing is that although I have now been 2 times, I still don't think I could find this place on my own. Both times I went with Rst and his armed guard (poor guy- he stands and waits for us by the vehicle until 2:30 or 3:00am when we leave). Now my weekend is over and I am afriad to say that I am now officially ON EDGE! When I awoke yesterday after the night out drinking, there was a message on my phone from the deen of the university. As he appears first on the top of my mobile's phone book, appears that whoever was sitting on my bad at the club managed to send several empty texts to my boss thus disturbing my sleep... The bag-sitter also managed to call one of my students and delete all the people in my phone book whose name started with 'Z'. Will have to be more careful next time.

Where sheep fear to wander

Between our new accomodations and the road to the airport is a field, a rather largish field containing a sort of pond and lots of ummanicured greenery through which every morning sheep wander. With them is a youngish shepherd who every now and then prods them westwards by hitting them with a stick. The sun chases after them and the temperature climbs towards 40 C.

Forget that the banks are strewn with garbage and the pond stinks like sewage, greeting the sheherd and wandering with the sheep (in the cooler early morning) was Cy's pastoral dream of Kurdistan... one which she didn't really get to indulge before leaving. Too bad as I had a couple of students (D and A) who could likely find greener, more romantic sheep/goat-grazing pastures ( like the mountainsides of Shaklawa) for her to tromp around in... and tromp safely.

D & A recently handed in research reports using background information and statistics they had collected at work (whereby they identified areas contaminated with mines and UXO - unexploded ordinances). Now thanks to their efforts, I know what the various types of mines imported by the former Iraqi government look like, what triggers them (and other UXO) and that the majority of people killed or injured by them in the last few years were teenaged shepherds. I am sure there are no mines in the field behind our apartments, but should you try to tromp through it, you would be reminded that you live in Kurdistan. The machine gun toting guards that inhabit the vacant lot to the right of the field might chase you,and ask you what you are doing in the field and direct you back to the road.

I write this post not because of Cy's recent departure, but because today I was reminded of this wish of hers by and the dangers of being a shepherd by an article in the Kurdish Globe on "Kurdistan Region's minefields". It mentions that the minefields are being successfully cleared and attributes the success to awareness campaigns of which my two students were clearly a part. Good going guys... "Harbiji Kak D & Kak A!"

Two Lives

Two lives, two wives, two families... A Hawleri friend desires this - "Two lives" not referring to the two lives discussed in Vikram Seth's biography, but to the two separate lives he wishes to live with two separate women in two separate families he will have here in Erbil. The scary part is that I think I was to consider being the second... Is it possible? As unattractive (mostly due to my Western perspectives) as I might be to a Kurdish man, I was told that I am beautiful, after all, "Woman - Fat - Good to Kurdistan!" I was then quizzed on my thoughts about a person having two families. I avoided response and was then pointedly asked a more personal question along the lines of whether or not I would ever consider being someone's second wife.

Hmmm.... I think NOT! I hope that is the end of that discussion, however, there was an interesting moment whereby I had flashbacks of India... except in India, it was never an earnest youngish man who I actually knew, but only flippant efforts by old rich silk factory owners (or jewelers) with nasty teeth looking for a fourth and final wife... Perhaps they thought a nice wheatish-colored Non-resident Indian (or half-Indian) might add to the prestige of their household. Here in Kurdistan, I think I would more likely bring dishonor and shame.

In the flight path

And a plane has just passed overhead, so close that it seems Marcello (one of the Bolivian brothers who manage the Internet services to this complex) in the far tower - Tower D- could reach out of his window with a poker and scrape the paint off the left wing. Cy is likely on that plane on the way to Dubai (a stopover that will be considerably less that the 7 hours she dreaded due to a 4 hour delay). I wonder how it will feel to be back in the US since she is unsure if and when she will return.

This morning, Cy woke me with to come gather the stuff she didn't want to cart back to the US... although it would have all have fit within her luggage allowance - she had the least luggage of any woman here (although she was well -and flamboyantly- dressed every single day). She regards clothes as kinds of costumes; a wonderful perspective that we took good advantage of at her farewell party two nights ago. The cafeteria musicians (who no longer work at the cafeteria) came and played some folk music, Kurdish and Turkish, along with a little Gypsy King's. Cynthia got out her Jordanian veil/mask decorated with coins (a item Tf wouldn't let me wear as he said I looked like a scary witch doctor of some sort) and her belly dancer's scarf and we all took turns dancing with it... although nobody could beat her flamenco. Later Z and Mu came and Mu helped Tf kill the multitude of mosquitos (who entered while the smokers were smoking on the balcony) by throwing the sofa's golden 'throw' cushions at the celing where the pesky devils were congregating next to the light bulb.

To be honest, although sad to see Cy leave, I didn't really want to get up to say goodbye as the mosquitos migrated to my house last night and I woke up with a lip so bitten and swollen I looked as though I'd been in a fight. Anyway, one more teacher has left and summer is coming. I still haven't made my plans and wonder when and where I will go, and who will return in fall... If I am here, I will watch their planes come in from my balcony and (if my camera is fixed by then) take a photo to prove how close to the flight path we really are.

Lucienne & Leila

Note: the following post is somewhat silly, so feel free not to read it....

Tamas (who actually authorized me to use his real name) has left for Dubai... permanently... meaning life here is even duller without his effervescent company creating excitment at unexpected meeting spots - like Thomas's makeshift office at a table in the foyer of the fake Sheraton... or at the Deutscher hof where he teases poor Pepsi-the-dog until Gunter must chain him under a table (Pepsi, not Tamas). While Tamas once was loathe to leave Kurdistan, problems of the sort we all experience here have now brought him to the point where he is embracing his move with much eagerness. Sigh... Not only did he leave Kurdistan, but he took Lucienne (the camel in hot pink spangly short pants pictured above). I love Lucienne as he reminds me of El Farouk, a lovely camel from Dubai given me by Sol - who lives there still and may even be pictured in this blog (in the pictures from January's trip to Paris). Anyway, to console me, Lucienne made a trip back to Hawler (from Dubai) to bring Leila to me (the wonderfully cross-eyed dromedary seatbelted next to Lucienne in the picture above).


And this is Lucienne and Leila in a tearful farewell. It is really a time for farewells as Tamas & Lucienne are gone (although they will visit in August), Thomas has gone to Austria for 10 days and Cy (pictured with me in the Park the day of the bombing) is leaving on Monday for the US to take care of her family. Farewells are scary here as you can't really be sure that the leavers will return. I think this is the students' biggest fear...that the foreign teacher will all leave and the place where we work will become the same as...

My first day at "Shokal Zakaria"

At 3:45 yesterday afternoon, my phone rang reminding me that I was to be moving to the new apartments in 15 minutes... Yikes! I had gone home early as I was suffering from what had been diagnosed as ameobic dysentery. I surveyed my apartment and quickly shoved all the stuff I had been planning to procure another box for into plastic shopping bags and readied myself for the truck.

At 4:00 sharp, the truck arrived and we loaded everything into the back. After finishing, Tu (a university person) arrived very angry that there was no transportation from the university to the new apartments and insisted that the truck transport her and another to the new apartments... That would have been fine, except that both the driver and I had real a real need to get the moving over quickly... and the second passenger was shopping in New City). I offered to taxi to the new place and meet them there, but in the end, we crunched up into the cab with what I admit was too much stuff for any single person to accumulate living in Iraq.

After arrival, I discovered that the apartments had been provided with all sorts of necessities (cutlery, dishes, microwaves, laundry detergent, etc), but NO toilet paper... the one thing I really needed. Anyway, I managed to get to the market and even though we still don't know the security key code to enter the apartment, I was lucky to find the door propped open on my return.

Tonight I look forward to cleaning my place (considering the size, it could take a while); It is dusty, the floors are all dirty, there is a pond in my living room from a leaky air conditioner and there is a little plumbing problem in one of the three bathrooms (a worker appears to have used it and it won't flush!). But other than that, it is rather 'splendid'... It looks just like a realtor's showroom (No worries, I will take care of that). Lots of flash with considerably less practicality. Already the movement-sensitive light switches are driving me crazy. However, after my dark New City hovel, the sun rising between two buildings and shining in through my bedroom balcony window was a really pleasant way to start the day.

PS. Shokal Zakaria is the unofficial name of the new apartments - Zakaria is a famous singer who purportedly owns the new place - taxi driver's don't know the real name.

No Women!

In response to the comment on the post below (about swimming at the fake Sheraton), the answer is "Yes, women are allowed to swim in the pool at the hotel"... at least the indoor one. However, at the apartments we are moving to, there is only one outdoor pool and the policy is NO WOMEN! However, this is now of less concern to me since I have joined Harveen Health Club at the first checkpoint into Ankawa.

You may be thinking, "Wow! A health club in Kurdistan!" Don't get too excited yet... I arrived at the club for the first time on Monday (after having my health verified by a doctor) between the hours of 3-5 (the hours that women are allowed to use the gym) and surveyed the equipment... there were a couple of treadmills, a couple of elliptical trainers, three stationary bikes, a rowing machine, some of those jiggly band things (to shake off your fat?)and some weight equipment. I went to the treadmill first... BROKEN! Then the elliptical trainer... It worked, but was wobbly... in fact, all of the equipment was only barely functional. But the pool was OK. There are two pools meaning that men and women can swim at the same time without having to see or be seen by the other. I went to the pool which was actually large enough to swim laps in (unlike that of the "Sheraton"); however, swimming laps would be difficult as local ladies were floating, playing and splashing around willy-nilly as if it were a children's wading pool.

However, the 'health club' experience hasn't been all bad. While in the gym, the regulars eyes me suspiciously... However, by the time I got to the pool, they had worked up enough courage to come and speak to me. Yesterday afternoon when I went for the second time, they all came up to me and greeted me by name. It was the first time that I was approached by and able to interact (in any kind of 'normal' way) with local women! More news to come from Harveen...

rumors of crying babies

After I leave here, it is likely I will be able to write an entire book on the role and effects of rumours... at least concerning my current context. As my current workplace is a new establishment, rumours abound. The latest rumor is that the members of my department (me included) were crying and behaving like babies after yesterday's explosion.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. I wasn't the only one who continued to teach. And our students appreciated this. It seems that our reactions were really important to them as they saw our willingness to stay and teach as a kind of indication that rumours they had heard were false. (One of those rumours being that all the foreign staff would leave at the slightest incident leaving the institution to close or become a 'local' institution).

sunshine and roses

After the explosion yesterday, staff at my place of employ were all sent home... an unexpected half-day off. It was quite strange to be sitting in our houses drinking the coffee that we usually don't have time for in the mornings, and then to saunter off to enjoy the sunshine. The beautiful pictures below were taken at "Erbil Park". In fact, most of the parks are beautiful now. Who knew that Hawler had so many roses? Every park seems full of them. It seemed weird and surreal to be enjoying a calm lunch surrounded by roses in the park as the result of a truck bomb.

PS. Please note that these photos (taken by B) are taken just hours after the ones in the post below!

Interruption - Truck Bomb

Yesterday's truck bomb interrupted more than our classes -as the loud boom shattered the silence, rattled the building and caused the corner classrooms (2 sides of windows) to flex- it also interrupted 2 years of relative peace in the city of Hawler (Erbil).
After the blast at about 9:00 am (which caused a variety of reactions from students and teachers in the building), my students made some predictions as to the possible cause of the now smoking area (viewable from our windows) in a desensitized kind of fashion... and then we resumed lessons. About 10 minutes later, we were instructed to return home so that the University could check for damage and (consider policy for such events?)


This picture was taken via a student's cell phone from the roof of our building. (Note that shirt worn by man in the picture is NOT typical - this must be one of the workers from 'North Kurdistan') The source was just outside the Ministry of Interior.This created some panic as two of our students are empoyees there and apparently there was to be a meeting yesterday morning meaning that we could assume that 100% attendance was required. Luckily, our students' safety was quickly confirmed by a couple of cell phone calls.


This second picture is of one of the buildings damaged in the blast... Note the brown bits on the right of the building. These were granity-type tiles which used to cover the entire building. Another building - the ministry guard's building - was completely demolished. Windows were blown out in some of the buildings in the immediate surroundings, including one in our administration building... even though we were probably about a half kilometer away.

As it turns out, the explosives were on a truck filled with cleaning products. But as to the reasons behind the blast or the people responsible, it seems the speculations of foreign news reports are as good as local speculations... The explosion which killed 19 people and injured about 80 (maybe more as we still don't know about those trapped under the rubble) corresponded with Dick Cheney's visit to Baghdad (and the usual violence there) and also with the killing of 4 Iraqi journalists in Kirkuk. In fact, so far, the news of this item seems to have been downplayed although it was being the first for some time in this part of Kurdistan. Some students mentioned that although they personally didn't believe the attack was Al Quaida, the anti-terrorism committee is/was based in the Ministry of Interior building and there were purportedly prionsers of the extreme-Islamist persuation held there.

In any case, it is work as usual today!

weekend at work

Seeing as it is already Thursday and I am just now posting for the weekend past, it is clear that I have been having difficulties keeping up with blogging. To be honest, the Internet at New City is not such that I can upload anything and my office (with working computer/Internet is getting quite HOT! - in the 30s by late morning). Anyway, when in my office (even on weekends), I am mostly playing catch up rather than blogging (partly due to mismanagement of time, partly due to the scheduling difficulties of sharing an often malfunctioning photocopier with the whole department, and partly due to meetings over things such as changing policies).
Anyway, the last Satuday afternoon at work was rather nice! I saw C (the chef from the cafeteria (pictured above) and he invited me to come for dinner after finishing my photocopying. We (C, his 2 kids, and two other cafeteria workers and I had a picnic dinner on a blanket on the grassy bits between the two buildings on campus...

Then we went for a stroll in Minaret Park before I taxied home to do marking.

Swimming at the fake Sheraton

WARNING: Pool is much smaller than it appears in the photo!

So after my Thursday of "walking" at the Chaldean Social Youth Club, I finally decided I was so desperate for a little real exercise that I would pay the price ($20 US) to use the facilities at the "Sheraton" (officially the Erbil International Hotel). In any other circumstances it would so NOT be worth that much (Shanghai's Jin Jiang Hotel's BIG pool costs$15 US - a fee which I would be unwilling to pay in that city), but after such a long time of inactivity in Hawler, I savored all 4 kilometers run on the treadmill and every mini-lap of the TEENY TINY pool. I then relaxed for a little in the sauna and ust considered it just a really cheap spa vacation instead of a trip to the gym. I don't think I will do this again anytime soon, however. At least now I know for certain that this option is a possibility without being a hotel guest.

The "Walking" Club, Ankawa

It has now been almost 4 months since I have left the country, exercised, or discovered any new social venues. Hence I jumped at the chance when a student from Ankawa invited me (and Tf) to the Ankawa Social Youth Club. OK, I am not really a 'youth' but apparently, all ages of 'Christian' (I interpret this as non-Muslim - read on) people are welcome there... especially after hearing about the existence of an exercise room there!

In Erbil, as you probably know by now, there are not many places where people can congregate and socialize... especially with the opposite sex! However, in Ankawa, there used to be something (translated from Sureth) called Walking Street. In the evenings (Thursday and Sunday), people went there to walk and meet their friends and perhaps even spot the love of their life. This kind of 'meat market' is something that would be permitted in parts of conservative Hawler; hence, fearing mischief from some more hostile Islamists, the walkers have recently moved indoors into a former sports club.

The Club: So the club really was just in an old brick/stone jail-like building flanked with a courtyard surrounded by a high wall topped by an additional wire fence (to keep soccer balls in or harmful objects out?). And there they were... the walkers - walking in twos and threes arm-in arm and pacing from one end of the yard and back again like prisoners on an exercise break. I joined in with my student just to experience the 'thrill' and indeed it was a bit odd! People stopped to talk to us and I even ran into another student (who you may know from this weblog as Belly dancer).

At about 10pm, everyone simultaneously tired out and moved into the cafeteria to sit around and chat. Apparently, while it is permissible to tease friends you have spotted 'on dates' here, it is an unwritten club rule that the information of who is seen with whom stays within the walls of the club... a very wise rule all considered (although I have not heard of any honor washing among the Chaldean community). Anyway, I didn't use the exercise room which turned out to be very poor, but Tf played and beat a local guy (the DJ from the Edge- that story to come later) at table tennis.

Moving Day

Short Takes: News from the International Trade Administration:
" In Erbil, Iraq, two managers of the Ankara-based Nursoy Group of Companies give Under Secretary Franklin L. Lavin an overview of the skyline-defining “Naz City” apartment complex. The mid-rises are the first of their kind in Erbil and are the most visible signs of the growing prosperity and hopefulness of this region of Iraq. (U.S. Department of Commerce photo) "

Well, I can't comment on the asthetic value of the 'skyline-defining' buildings pictured above, but I guess they are probably really are the 'first of their kind in Erbil'. I also can't comment on what they symbolize in economic terms for the region. They are of interest to me and some of our insular little community here as yesterday we received notice that we will be moving into them by (the latest) April 15th.

Some of you will remember reading my posts in October about the much anticipated opening of the New City shopping center and advise me not to hold my breath... I won't (although I am eager to escape the scrutiny of the gate-keepers at our current 'compound'). And I will be curious to see (after moving), if the swimming pool is also ready for use... and if women are permitted to use it. My fingers are crossed.

Sauerkraut

Deutsche
Schnitzel für Kurdistan
Ein Thüringer betreibt in Erbil das
einzige deutsche Gasthaus im Irak und begeistert seine Kunden mit Hausmannskost,
Gartenzwergen und Udo Jürgens.
Von FOCUS-Online-Korrespondentin Annette Blettner

Gunter Völker hält Hof. Im karierten Trachtenhemd und Lederhose unterhält der Chef des gerade eröffneten Lokals und Gästehaus „Deutscher Hof“ im nordirakischen Erbil seine Gäste. Im Kleinod deutscher Kultur treffen sich Auslandsdeutsche und Rückkehrer, Geschäftsleute und internationale Mitarbeiter von Hilfsorganisationen, und immer mehr neugierige Iraker. Hier werden Informationen gehandelt und Geschäfte abgeschlossen. Deutsches Investment wird gerne gesehen im kurdischen Teil Iraks. Der Oberbürgermeister von Erbil, selbst Deutschlandrückkehrer, ist schon Stammkunde bei Gunter.

The above article comes from a German site... and no I don't read German, I just thought this blog needed to have words like "Oberbürgermeister" and "Deutschlandrückkehrer" written somewhere in the content (and a picture of Gunter in a red apron). But in truth, I publish this entry to remind myself not to be a "Sauerkraut".

Hawler is a kind of vacuum... There is nothing here and it just keeps sucking in on itself... And on a personal level; loneliness seems to lead people to do things that make them even more lonely. Then there is the resulting regret (for those who feel regret) ...

Anyway, after two brief phone conversations last night, both with people searching for different ways to break boredom (one through the act of calling and one through the beverages comsumed before calling) I decided not to sit home and be sauer. I removed myself to a party I had already declined an invite to and ended up with 'Izzy' and his friends/staff from Baghdad at the Deutscher Hof. It's amazing how profoundly simple things can make life so much better: a few friendly faces, a little sauerkraut, some conversation, a grassy garden and a few enthusiastic tugs at the sleeve from Pepsi, Gunter's dog.

On Trial

Sometime in the 16th C, Bartholomew Chasennee won a court case in which he was legally representing and defending the province’s rats – rats guilty of eating the grain needed to feed the people of that same province. The verdict was that they would be given an option to relocate within a set number of days or face extermination. I don’t have all the details about this event as I was unable to download the facts (one source being the Virginia Law Review-1899) from JSTOR, but I heard about it from a friend who read it in a paper by a French philosopher. We were discussing law, policy and logic.

In any case, I now know that the case was real and not fabricated which is more that I can say for equally unbelievable stories about my immediate surroundings! Are the defendants here also pernicious vermin? Who are the jurors and what constitutes their criteria for decision-making? I wouldn’t hazard a guess as rumors are more in abundance than facts.

Kimchi Nemsae Nayo (the scent of kimchi)

This is just to let you know that that wonderfully punjent and inescapable garlicy fermented smell of kimchi is finally contained to just the inside of my fridge. Where was I was able to get kimchi in Iraq? Well... I spent Saturday afternoon on the Korean peace-keeping-forces base: a new friend -LC Go- met me at the gate and guided me through an afternoon which was much like my first day of work in Seoul some years ago.

First I went to the boss' office (in this case, the first-star general) and drank tea and chatted politely about what I was doing in Kurdistan and how long I would be there... after which he welcomed me and gave me a commemorative coin (I will eventually figure out a use for this). Then I went to the next office to relive the experience. Then I met up with Go Sonsaeng nim and a couple of translators (Korean-English and Korean-Arabic and some Kurdish staff members).

And finally, I was able to go to the dining hall for a Korean lunch with that last group and a couple of people who I met at a Korean-Kurdish friendship event (an event I will post about when I receive the photos): For all those who like Korean food, they served Jjajang-pap, twigim, kamja- hobak dwenjjang jige, kimchi and takwan. And after lunch, the cook packed me some small containers of kimchi, Korean sauces and sesame oil to take home and tide me over until my next visit.

Although it was a military base, it was in fact one of the least hostile and friendliest environments I have been in since I have arrived here. 'Hama', a lovely local staff member drove me home (stinking up his car with the fermented cabbage -a smell which he says he has gotten used to). Unfortunately, the next time I go just won't be the same as LC Go -the friendliest of the friendly- leaves for Korea today.

Praying Lions, Chanting Roosters and Singing Camels - newsworthy animals

(Photo credit to Mosnews.com; Russian news online in English!)


Izzy (not his real name), a newspaper editor, incensed that one of his journalists printed an announcement of her engagement on the front page of his independant Iraqi paper, began a diatribe about what was and wasn't newsworthy in a 'serious' paper. However, we both agreed on the entertainment value of some articles in OTHER papers...

I have fond memories of a 3/4 page article on Shuma the singing camel printed in the Taipei Times (which incidentally has won awards for design). Staff refused to comment on this article and it was not added to Internet archives... good thing I saved it on a former blog! Izzy was telling me something I couldn't quite understand about a praying lion in Baku written up in a Turkish paper. I can't read Turkish (this is one of the banes of my Hawler existance-but that is a story for another post), so the best I could find were the following places where you can hear the lion roar Allah! I also found that a rooster in the Kyrgyz city of Osh started calling out the name of Allah instead of crowing... and this article also mentioned the praying lion of Azerbaijan. (Shuma was also purportedly from this region).... I think I should schedule a visit to the zoo soon.

Mustache mandate

This passport photo belongs to someone regularly featured in this blog... but the face avec-moustache is almost unrecognizable to me. A friend (who lived in Turkey for a while) commented that ALL men had mustaches when this photo was taken because it was LAW that men sport caterpillars on their upper lips. (Can't remember if she was talking about Turkey or Iraq). Anyway, I looked it up and found a number of rather interesting articles:

• Does Saddam Impose a Mustache Mandate in Iraq?

This article was from 2003, but the adage "an eagle could land on his mustache" predates Saddam. I wonder if an eagle could land on the one in the photo and does that indicate that he would have been considered very impressive and manly then? I also am thinking of asking for the Arabic translation for cursing someone's mustache... and the threat to shave off someone's mustache with my shoe. This reminds me of the insulting necklace of shoes in Salman Rushdie's Shame.

The third article speaks of Turkey and the different varieties of mustaches.

• Moustaches under threat

Does the mustache in the picture suggest that its wearer was a right-wing nationalist at the time? Or is it not turned down enough at the corners... and does it droop enough over the lower lip to indicate an old-fashioned leftist? Clearly Dr. Z's goatee is sure sign of an intellectual. And I have discovered that although originally from London, my stepfather twirled and waxed a type labelled urban or "Istanbul style". For the most part, I am in favor of waxing most moustaches right off.

Sanctuary

And just when you thought there were no truly relaxing places to go in the city, Heaven was temporarily discovered in Mu's garden. Suntan lotion and another beer, P?

Mealtime Massage by and for Mu?

There are too many people with the same name in this place. let's say for example your name is "Aso"; then we would have to specify which Aso by saying something like, "goteed Aso" or "green-eyed Aso" or even "your Aso" or "my Aso"! So in this picture, there are two by the name of "Mu"... and the grey-haired Mu is receiving a massage from the other (whose identity is protected by my lack of photographic expertise).

The remarkable thing about this event is that although restaurants in Kurdistan have family sections (usually near the kitchen and bathrooms in the back away from the windows) , Batmas restaurant (at the 1st checkpoint into Ankawa) not only permits women to sit at prime window tables, but allows its patrons to receive massages between the mezze and main course. I am posting this picture to remind myself that it is about time I visit 'Gardenia' hair salon and find out if it's really true that women can receive massages in Hawler as well.

Cafeteria Concert

Although there are no cinemas, theatres, art galleries, or even female-friendly coffee shops in Hawler, there is some space for entertainment. The lounge next to the cafeteria is just such a space it seems (as the cafeterial boasts some very talented people).

A couple of weeks ago the boredom was broken up by a concert delivered by the three musicians pictured here. B in the foreground sings with her husband (middle), but is in dire need of a 'daf' (tamborine) in future. Those who watch Zagros TV can hear them play every weekend...

And I post this picture just because I like H. This is not H's signature pose however- that pose where after serving tea, he makes a halo over his head with his thumbs and index fingers. He is the son of the head cook... who is also talented, but rather more in the art of fortune telling than the art of cooking. (Remember that this is subjective information).

Reflection

The weather was wet again last night, but after a long week of endless meetings and writing feedback onto students' essays, a walk in the rain seemed a refreshing idea. So one of the teachers and I walked home and when the rain gathered strength, we ducked into the Turkish restaurant above New City for dinner. From our table near the window, we could see the lights from the traffic below and those brightly colored bobble lanterns that decorate New City all shining through the raindrops hitting the window. We talked about the rain on Vancouver Island, natural spaces, art classes (life drawing and self portraits). Let this photo of me reflected in the window serve as my latest self portrait.

Ankawa egg

What does it mean, 'The Ankawa Egg'? To be honest, I don't think this is any philosphical or cosmic symbol of the universe... although it's true that even hard-boiled, there is a 'sun' in the center. It was a gift given me by a student from Ankawa, a gift which he created at the Ankawa Youth Center... possibly one of the few places where young people - Christian young people (both male and female in the same space) can congregate and socialize. Given that it was, as you may have surmised, boiled and dyed around Easter, I guess it is meant as a symbol of birth, rebirth and potential.

Chain Spotting

Me: Where are we going
Mu: I don't know. You want?
Me: Huh?
Mu: Batmas... dinner? Driving... Shaklawa? Cooking... my house?
Me: Which do you prefer?
Mu: I don't know. You know.

This was the conversation that precipitated driving to Shaklawa for dinner. I had never been to Dilan before and it was reasonably good... but not as good as the drive back. It was dark and the entire way home, the scenery ahead was streaked with chain lightning. Shaklawa and Sallahadin are mountainous areas, so we drove quickly through the parts where the view was obstructed by mountains and trees and slowly through all the parts where the horizon ahead was visible- eyes fixated on the spot where the first chain was spotted...

we weren't disappointed.

P.S. As you probably know, the photo is not mine... nor is it even of Kurdistan, but I didn't have my camera on me that night.

Happy Easter from Hawler

An altar boy carries a candle during Easter ceremonies in the Chaldean Church in Ainkawa, Iraq. Other services in the area were cancelled for fear of violence. (I don't think this is from this year, but CNN's picture was pretty).

So in response to an email from my mom, I wrote, "No, I don't think the Easter bunny visits Hawler," but that doesn't mean there isn't an Easter... Some of the Chaldean students, who incidentally speak Syriac (is this right?) which is closely related to the Aramaic Jesus spoke, are understandably absent from class today. I unfortunately am at work. But that is no excuse for me to have missed the Easter events as some of the staff visited Ankawa last Thursday to view 'the washing of the feet' (of 12 little boys- or was it little 12 year old boys?). Cy told me that I didn't miss much as much of the spirituality was ruined for her by the presence of machine gun toting guards surrounding the church and as the staging of 'the arrest of Jesus' was cancelled this year. I guess in comparison to the processions of Latin America... I on the other hand have never even witnessed the likes even of what took place here and certainly intend to go next year (if I am here).