Hats @ Bazaar Sirwan

After the last trip to the carpet shop of 2006 (for me to buy a last minute gift for S in London), we continued to the hat shop for O to buy gifts for relatives in France. This picture should really feature S as well as O as it was S who discovered the wonderful hats at the bazaar... but she had already left on her UK get-away. O had been indoctinated into the joys of scarves (a la Arafat- dare I write this?) and hats by S the week prior to S's departure. Note our pleasant salesman. He is pictured to give a few lessons to A. who could practice his scarf-winding technique before embarking on another journey in his Aga-suit (if you know the real name of these outfits, please let me know... sorry A if I have offended).

The elderly gentlemen's club

So H and Mu cooked and we sat around and ate and talked crap. A typical evening at the elderly gentlemen's club. This was the night after Shaklawa. But all evenings here are the same. No need to document. O may have pictures of Mi and me (and others) dancing with linked pinkies.

Shaklawa

OK, so I am very late posting. These pics were taken on Friday, Dec. 16th on an impromtu trip to Shaklawa.Pic 1 is our trusty driver MU is his Monica!

Pic 2 is of the streetside market where we stopped for almonds, water and beer.




Pic 3 is of the road...










Shawklawa is amazing, although very hard to take photos which really show the contrast of the red earth, the valleys, the green, and....










The final pic fails to show how very cold we were when we arrived and discovered it really was too cold to drink the beer we bought. However, it was all in all a very enjoyable trip. Can't wait to go again! Will wear hiking boots and a warm jacket next time.

The fake Sheraton

So I have always maintained that I am a lousy cook… partly because I don't do it very often… especially the last few years, but I was starting to relearn… until I discovered the joys of the fake Sheraton – a place that some prefer to avoid. It is overpriced (meaning that it likely will cost more than $10.00 for a meal - with a few bottles of wine, over $100- and hence many can't consider eating there). I toohad planned to boycott it… until I discovered they had dai vata and other Indian delicacies on the starter menu. Now I worry I may have overdone it as
I went tonight and the staff at the bar greeted me by name and informed me my friends weren't at the bar, but in the Chinese restaurant.

Hawler Wedding Banquet

So what happens at a Kurdish wedding in Hawler? I still don't know as I seem only to come in part way through. At this particular wedding, I experienced the banquet part. I don't know if and when there is an actual ceremony (I guess it was before I arrived), but at the banquet, guests sit and the bride and groom visit each table to shake hands and take pictures with the guests. Then there is Kurdish dancing where guests form lines and hold hands by thier pinkies and dance. Finally the food comes, big trays full of fried meat... and big surprise, there is no champagne to toaste the happy couple... in fact, no alcohol of any kind.... I enjoyed the wedding immensely, but had to go out and eat again afterwards as I couldn't manage any of the food on my plate at the banquet.

Iceberg, Ice tea, Ice cube… Eskimo

Or was the last 'term of endearment' ice cream'? I certainly was called all of these by a certain Kurdish gentleman who was irate over the fact that he had surreptitiously slipped me his number one night and that I hadn’t used it. I thought that it was obviously a greater likelihood that I wouldn’t, seeing as we have no common language with which to communicate over the phone. (Hence the comment that 'Eskimo' is not really a term we use anymore was silly and wasted.)

To make matters worse, he then produced a picture (which he had snapped via cell phone and printed out on a color printer) and further complained (in front of people!) that he looked at my picture every night before sleeping… and that I hadn’t called: and then again with the ‘iceberg, ice cube, ice tea'… Me! Is this a Kurdish notion of romance?

View from the top

Last weekend I finally made it to the rooftop of the university! This first picture is of the mosque. It is just visible from my office window (to the right).

This is a street scene further right of the mosque.



This is the view of what you might see from the offices on the other side of the hall. If you look in the center of the picture, the sandy structure in the distance is the Citadel.


This is the view directly in front of my window. If it wasn't so dark, you'd be able see that the sun is setting over the prison!

Bales at Lenga

Italian leather shoes soaking in tubs of water and stuffed to regain original shape, Parisian coats with fur collars, American quilts and Korean silk and cotton futon blankets… Do they all come out of bales like this? Does the UN just drop them here? However, it works... S and T find the best stuff here and D has been a fan for a while.


Seeing as most things at this market are second-hand, some locals scorn it... But if you want real leather shoes for women, or a stylish coat, this is probably your best bet. The other markets, while they have nice shoes for men (S noted this), the bulk of women's shoes are non-leather plastic-soled made-in-China deals... and the clothes - synthetic and shipped over from Turkey.

Inshallah Airlines

Those of you waiting for news of S and T… I am sorry. It has been hard not only due to poor connections, but also because we have all been busy of late… and worse! My update will have to state that S and T have suffered extrodinarily prior to leaving on vacation. This suffering is not only from work stress (their own, mine and everyone else's) but also from the stress of extreme exasperation over travel bookings.

Where else but here are bookings changed near to the last moment... and without warning? Only on calling the airlines of their own accord were they informed of the changes. This happened not only once, but twice! And what of connecting flights? What about the cost of penalties for changing flight times every time 'Inshallah Airlines' decided to change the flight schedule? Hmmm... Lucky for S and T, God must have willed it so, because they were able to fly out on Tuesday! It is so quiet here now. I miss them and have to admit, I have not moved some of the things S left on my kitchen table for me to use in her absense as it reminds me that she will be back soon. But then again, I will also leave on Friday. I will spend 2 weeks in London and expect that all of my flights will leave without any hitches. (I could not let the lessons learned from T and S's experience go unacknowledged and have booked on Austrian Airlines instead). I anticipate my only problem will be dealing with Heathrow immigration when they see Iraq stamped all over the insides of my passport.... and dealing with angry emails from K in Frankfurt who was excited at the prospect of a visit when I was still planning to travel via Frankfurt with 'Inshallah'. Any guesses which airline now bears this moniker?

Street Scenes

This is a scene from Sirwan Bazaar.


And this is the view from the taxi on the way home. Although the picture may not be of much interest to those outside, this was a different route from the bazaar to New City! We passed through residential areas which was a nice change of pace.

Alienated by technology?

So ironically, after posting about how I syndicated my blog so that you could 'subscribe' and truly get it delivered daily... I stopped posting. Although much has happened over the last week... and which I will return to in upcoming posts: trips to Lenga - a different kind of bazaar, curious meetings at the fake Sheraton and Hawler Plaza, Kurdish food at my home, Kurdish dance lessons/a birthday party in a local women's university dorm (in full Kurdish dress), an incident in S's bathroom which now make her afraid to take a shower, suspicious dissappearance of musician after wild party, Z's promotion to King of the World... and more (badminton and art included), I just couldn't post anything. I have been sitting sad and lonely in the midst of all this due to an innability to get online and stay there for more than a minute or two.

So people think that technology alienates. This could be true for some, but for many of us 'expats', we know better. Friends or family who only live a few blocks away meet up once a week or so... friends and family (when all concerned are living abroad) may spend a few minutes or hours every night on msn, skype etc... Anyway, I now have a more dependable connection at the office, so please post and let me know which of the stories mentioned you'd like to hear first.

Feedburner

This post is just to let you know what the new little icon (that looks just like this one) at the bottom of the right-hand sidebar means. It is a link to feedburner. And what feedburner does is let you 'subscribe' to the 'Daily Hawler'. If you click on the icon in the sidebar, it will take you to the feedburner page, from which you can select to add Daily Hawler to a selection of browser 'homes'. Mine is Google, so I just selected Google, and now when I open my Google browser I can see my personalized page (the space for searching, plus weather in my city and links to the most recent Daily Hawler posts in the upper left corner).

Half-vegetarian

The cafeteria at my workplace is now open! The cooking staff seem to be all from Turkey and the food, it has been promised, will be MUCH better than what can be obtained from ordering it from the 'tea boys'. As there are at least three vegetarian members of staff, it has also been promised that there will be a half-vegetarian option each day. After all, the kitchen manager claims to be a half-vegetarian himself. Now you might be wondering what this 'half-vegetarian' means? Some people go 'half-vegetarian' and eat no red meat, but still consume chicken, fish and eggs. And R thought that maybe it meant that it was food for people with one vegetarian parent and one non-vegetarian parent. Both NOT the case! As it turns out, 'half-vegetarian' means regular menu items with HALF THE MEAT! So on Wednesday, there was lamajun (an Arabic snack conisting of nan spread with sauce and minced lamb - the 1/2-veg version had more spice and half the lamb). On Thursday, there was rice, bread, and salad with an option of 2 entres: eggplant stuffed with beef or green beans cooked with half the usual chunks of meat.

Anyway, I should now apologize for calling the 'tea boys' tea boys. They have names; R & R (not standing for rest and relaxation)! We just call them 'tea boys' because on first arrival, it seems like all they did at work was run around collecting stray tea cups, smoke, teach us random words in Kurdish and wear tight pants.

Healthcare in Hawler: pain in the...

Fed of of being a pain in the ass (for being bitchy and scratchy over a case of extreme itchiness following a carpet buying spree last weekend), I decided to take myself off to the clinic... Or rather I let H (an English speaking brother of our motel complex owner) take me. This was a real experience. First he drove me to a little clinic which was just a big room with about 4 little rooms off of it. In the first little room, I paid about 75 cents for my visit and received a slip of paper with my name and age written on it. Then I waited for my turn at door number 2. The doctor didn't examine me, but just listened to my story and pronounced that I had contact dermititus (this is neither specific nor descriptive) and should get an injection and some allergy pills. Then I went back to the first door to pick up pills, a syringe (and contents) to go to room number 4 (for women). That nurse had gone out for an hour, but the man in the room for men was just leaving on his rickety bicycle. This rather dusty-looking man said he could give me my shot if I liked. I hesitated, then rolled up my sleeve only to find that was NOT where the shot was to go!

Anyway, H suggested we take the injection to another nearby clinic. It was closed. No problem in Hawler, you just bang on the neighbor's door. A little girl came out of the first door and said that her dad was the nurse's landlady and we should go around the corner to the second door.... At that door, we were directed to yet another door. Nobody home. So we just drove around the university area to a home clinic. WOW! A man opened the door into the tiniest clinic I have ever seen. A stone sort of room attached to a house with two uneven 1 meter benches built into the wall and covered with colorful blankets with just enough room to stand in between; one higher bench (examination table?) was in the center at the back of the room with just enough room to stand on either side - also covered with colorful blankets. The man prepared the syringe and went to get his wife. She - dressed as colorfully as the blankets and looking serene in a mauve scalloped headscarve - took the syringe. I felt a little worried as she rather looked more like your stereotype of a 'gypsy' fortune teller than a nurse. The two men stepped outside the clinic and she jabbed it in (intermuscular for allergy patients). OW!

Happy Birthday S

Yesterday was S's B-day. As an unofficial 'gift' from university staff, she got a trip to Shaklawa. Wonderful to get out of the city for a bit, I imagine. (I won't write more on that as I still hope to go myself and be able to supply photos). However, after getting home, she received the best gift EVER from Z - a hot-pink 3 piece track suit with light blue piping and the word Kurdstan emblazoned across the front and emphasized with applique flags. How nationalistic!

Anyway, we then went to Hawler Restaurant (unfortunately S did NOT weat the pink suit - I have major pink suit envy as I have considered the pink J-Lo velour tracksuit more than once). Anyway, the primary thing to mention about the restaurant (aside from the fact the the food and wine were both good - uncommon for Hawler) is that the restaurant was decorated with kilims and local carpets. Imagine S, T and me in such a place... I believe the owner can probably be convinced to part with S's favorite rug at some point in the not so distant future, so who knows, there could be yet another B-day gift to come for S.

Photo Album up

This post is just to inform you that there is a photo album page up on my personal album of some of the scenes around Hawler. If you would like to have a look, just click here.

Snaky Poo

This is the dried up dead snake from S's office. G supplied me this picture some time ago, but I just couldn't upload it due to network problems. Hence the picture gets its own post.

city of mourning

I have lost count of the number of people who have asked, Why Kurdistan? It is a question that most of us have asked each other more than once; but not in the usual way of expats (to discover what line of work another person is in or if they share any similar interests). It is almost as if the asker is hoping that the other's response could lead to a better understanding of his or her own motives. I imagine that there are people who visit places in or on the edge of war zones out of perverse curiosity; there are also the economically motivated, and those who see the opportunity to carve out a niche for themselves in a newly opened region (become a big fish in a small pond). But for many of us others, I think the reasons - like our individual impressions of this place- are intensely personal.

My impressions: This picture (taken by S) captures some of what I felt when I first arrived and saw a group of black-clad women teetering like crows on a fragile branch in the dark in front of a deserted shack just outside the airport. They appeared to be waiting for something/anything to happen. The other day, when commenting on the disappointment and frustration I imagined some local people must surely be feeling (regarding how long certain types of development were taking), I was told, They are used to waiting.

So maybe we are here to wait alongside the local population and learn patience. Is there any hopefulness or eagerness to truly live that punctuates the later stages of mourning following trauma? In the early stages, what happens when there are setbacks? I hope we are here not to capitalize on the pain present, but to share in the process of moving past it.

Pictures from S's journey to XX

I would love it is S would write something about these pictures as they are from a journey I didn't take. However, I have included them on the blog as I think they are incredible. They are taken at a place that most people here will never get the chance to visit. The woman on the far left in the top photo is the sister of someone S knows from her life in the last country she lived in... It is fitting that I place these pictures here after telling you about the wedding at New City since S described a similar warmth from people in XX as we did with the wedding party members.
The second photo is taken from inside one home and pictures a woman studying in the home directly facing. I think this photo needs no further description.

Bazaar