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).

Picnic #3

And although on Friday, I thought that all the picnicing was over, it was not to be so. Mo called me up (a friend I hadn't been in touch with for a while) and invited me on a picnic with his family... So here I am at my final picnic of the Nawrooz break in a spot somewhere between Hawler and Sallahadin.

I don't know who this boy is as Mo had too many sisters and brothers with children for me to keep everyone straight. This boy is holding the flag that Mu tried so desperately to find on the way to picnic #2.

This is one of Mo's brothers' wife and her sister. They were nice to me (as Mo spent his time playing cards with the men) and even though we had serious language barriers, we seemed to have no trouble communicating. The women seemed to feel that I fit into the family well (at least with the women and children) and asked if Mo and I had plans to marry. Hmmmm.... I guess Mo doesn't really hang out with his family much or they'd know this wouldn't be likely.

The gaggle of little girls dancing with Khanzad Hotel in the background.

The DJ.

And the bonfire which ended the evening.... but not without a little more dolma and kefta.

Nawrooz Picnic (Picnic # 2)

On Nawrooz, I went on my second picnic of the Nawrooz break. This was an event I had really been looking forward to since my friend Mu had mentioned plans with someone I would like to call 'the Godfather' to go to Lalish. I won't write about Lalish here as unfortunately, we didn't make it. At 8:00 I was ready and waiting... Then we went to pic up K, his French wife and twin daughters. We also picked up another SUV as we needed more room for all his extended family and professor friend. Unfortunately, the friend was still in bed and we had to wait. Then the Godfather, in his own SUV, was busy fighting with his passengers and passport control, so we really weren't on the road to anywhere until 10:30. At least while waiting, we were able to shop... Mu wanted to decorate the car like everyone else's with Kurdish flags, but what he ended up with was a tribute to Rastafarians; green, yellow and red with a lion in the center. Ah well, he didn't decorate the car, but wore it around his neck instead. Then after another 2-3 hours of driving around, Mu gave up on trying to find Lalish and we settled for Akre... At least this way, there is more that remains for me to do in Kurdistan. Anyway, the photos below are not the best from the picnic, but I would prefer to post for now until someone else shares their photos with me.

This is one of K's twins, pleased to be the coolest one at the party.

K's brother, his wife and me. As much as I don't care for kebab... K's brother's kebabs were fantastic.

K's brother's wife and something that was surely delicious.

And this is Mk and Dk... Mk led the 'halai' so I was able to learn yet another form of Kurdish line dancing from Turkey... different from the one danced by students at Ruwandez... and different from the one danced the evening before with the Kurds from Iran.

Shinglbana in Ruwandez

Although I had also been to Rowandez before, I hadn't even heard of Shinglbana. Up to this point, as the weather was quite bad, the highlight of the picnic was really mostly the opportunity for teachers and students (and students with students) to bond... and to be entertained by 'Bellydancer'. But Shinglbana was something else. There were these little cars that you get in and you are propelled along a treacherous little track, braking by yourself when necessary.

This is new teacher Tf getting into his car. He had the great misfortune to be sandwiched between me and Bellydancer... me braking continuously in front of him... and Bellydancer carrening into him from behind at full speed.

This picture taken on the way back up the track hopefully shows why I felt the need to brake all the way down... Too bad you can't see the signs that say "Brake" and "Ride at your own risk".

This is the Shinglbana dance club. While people like Tf decided to experience the 'rollercoaster' a few more times, some of us others danced to the Kurdish music blaring from the bus' distressed sound system.

And finally, we have a view of the bus entertainers in action: Bellydancer dancing... and Re playing the daf.

Picnic portaits

These pics are of key personalities from my first picnic... and first outing with students en masse.
This is 'Bellydancer'. He is thusly named for his non-stop dancing... some of it quite acrobatic, especially moves undertaken when the bus was in motion. This is him using the daf (tamborine) as an umbrella.
This is B. The rifle is not his, but we thought he looked appropriately serious holding it given his garb and against the backdrop at Jundian.

These are some other key personalities from my first picnic. Note R, our picnic organizer. He is the one looking straight at the camera.

Guly Ali Beg... again!

So the picture below was taken on my first read picnic in Kurdistan... and second trip to Guli Ali Beg.

The students are pleased to pose in front of the centerpiece of the $5000 Iraqi dinar!

Tawla

Don't know if Mt won or lost this game, but judging by the fact that I only see 1,500 Iraqi dinar by his elbow, the stakes seem lower than usual! Anyway, I post this picture because the people who play backgammon here amaze me with their skill and lightening speed. As soon as the die stop rolling, the other player immediately picks up and rolls them without waiting or watching. At a split second glance, he knows what move he will be making and what numbers he hopes his die will land on. This must have been a rare moment of stillness.

Poofy at New City

Got to love Mr. Security's new poofy pal.

D's B-day

So when in Hawler, we just survive from one B-day to the next... D's birthday was really some time ago, but I am posting now as we miss her... (Hope she is having fun in Paris). This pic shows her and S and a gift from Z and E... Too bad you can't see the Americana hose on the Nargile.