Couchsurfing in Iraq: An evening of forbidden things (Part II)
Note: This trip was taken a few years ago during the height of the war against IS. Safety has changed, and Kurdistan is finally a lovely place to visit again.
Arriving in Iraq, one is immediately confronted with friends, illegal alcohol, and dolma
Colossal, dusted white curtains obscure the view out of "my" room. Nevertheless, the morning sun manages to wake me up. I arrived only a few hours ago and still feel significantly weakened, but I am eager to go out, discover and collect impressions of Erbil.
I sit at the breakfast table with Sheyda and Reza, my two hosts, who explain roughly where we are. My first question is about the areas to avoid or what to watch out for in the city. They both laugh heartily. Reza recognizes from my astonished look that I meant this question quite seriously. But, of course, there is no danger as long as I don't photograph any military or official buildings or plan to leave the city by bus.
It is five kilometers from the "Sin City" settlement to the wild center of Erbil. Reza takes me into the city on the way to his work. One sees many abandoned construction sites and "ghost buildings” on the car roads, which resemble a rally route.
Ghost buildings all around town
Inquisitive, I ask Reza a lot of questions. All the construction projects were started before the war against the Islamic State. Since the threat of danger in the surrounding cities and the generally unstable political situation, a vast number of people have moved away. A large proportion were expats - foreign workers - who were removed.
We drive past some half-built and abandoned-looking housing developments. These housing complexes are small towns and have their own generators, supermarket, and gated access. But most of the settlements are not even half occupied, Reza says.
Many people would like to move to these settlements outside the city. With their own generator alone, the standard of living here is far more comfortable. On the other hand, in the center of the city, you only have a few hours of electricity per day. However, many cannot afford the high prices in the settlements.
Street scene in Sin City
This gives Erbil a rather dreary appearance. As soon as we get close to the center, stores, banks, small markets, and buildings with hoisted, exclusively Kurdish flags condense. Unofficially we are in Kurdistan and only officially in the Republic of Iraq.
On trips that take me to dangerous places, I always find it particularly interesting to see how people react to me as a tourist. I couldn't cross the street in Somalia without being greeted five times and constantly having "America" shouted after me. This time, I don't know exactly what to expect. I have prepared myself for all eventualities.
The first hours I spend disoriented walking. Then, aimlessly I wander around and let the impressions pelt in on me.
In the center, the citadel of Erbil towers over the city on a hill about 30 meters high. According to Unesco, people have lived here for more than 7,000 years - it is said to be the longest continuously inhabited place in the world. I climb a ramp on the east side of the citadel and pass the harem gate, which in former times, only women were allowed to pass through.
Path to Heaven
For several years, no one has lived in the citadel. Only a separate organization supervises the ongoing restoration work. At that time, there were several quarters here, divided according to the status and wealth of the families, as well as mosques, schools, and a hammam.
In the center of the citadel, a gigantic flag towers over the entire city. It is the Kurdish flag and not the Iraqi flag. One has an outstanding view over Erbil, the snow-capped mountains, and the main square, surrounded by a bazaar from the main gate.
Kurdish flag at the Citadel
At first glance, the center of Erbil appears monotonous in color. The huge bazaar is surrounded by high light beige arches. Only the numerous smaller tea stores that flank the main square on all sides add a bit of color to the cityscape.
The bazaars of Istanbul and Tehran have taught me the fear of thousands of people running around and sometimes exhausting sellers. But I’m mentally armed and fortified with tea. As so often, I have lost my way after several turns in the winding, narrow streets and wander aimlessly. I don't even try to find a way out but just drift along and let myself be guided by smells and colors. No aggressive vendors, a relaxed atmosphere, and surprisingly clean paths make my evening walk in the bazaar an absolute pleasure.
Bazaar scene
A little boy runs past me and literally rushes into a small store in a corner. Curious, I also stand crowded next to some men and the little boy at a counter. Each of us gets a warm pita bread with juicy meat wordlessly in our hands. A line forms behind us, and more and more people try to get into the store. Finally, at the end of the counter, there is a small buffet with vegetables and sauces for us to help ourselves.
Four of us stand in a row pressed into a corner and eat. I watch the hustle and bustle a little perplexed until the tempting-smelling food catches my attention again. Finally, the man on the far right takes a stack of napkins, uses two, and passes the napkins to his neighbor. He also takes napkins and gives them to me. I pass the last two napkins to the left. It's as if we've always had a short dinner break together and shared napkins.
Being welcome
It's the simple moments that make you feel special, and in this case, it's the feeling of being welcome and belonging. I'm not a stranger. We nod to each other, and I watch the men disappear into the crowd. On my way out, I try to place a few bills across the counter as casually as my neighbors, and then I, too, disappear into the now dark alleys of the bazaar.
The next evening, Sheyda and Reza plan to invite some friends to have dinner together. It is the only actual evening activity, as bars or clubs are non-existent in Erbil. Alcohol is also largely illegal and can only be found in some locked compounds.
We roll a vast plastic sheet along the carpet and hand out 15 paper plates. Each of the friends has brought something to eat. The centerpiece is Kurdish dolma, an oriental dish of rolled vine leaves with various fillings. There are also potato cakes, pita bread, many different sauces, spices, and - to my surprise - alcohol. Visibly proud, Mohammed points to his backpack and pulls out a bottle of red wine, beer, and sparkling wine. Some "souvenirs" from the black market. In small cups, the red wine is divided among everyone to have a sip to toast.
Abdullah, the same age as me at 25, sits next to me, and we start talking. While I try to fill my pita bread as confidently as he does, Abdullah talks about his job, which he uses to finance his studies and life.
Every day he travels to neighboring Mosul and works as an interpreter for reporters and photographers. Several car bombs go off every day, snipers lurk on the rooftops, and he never really knows whether he'll make it back to Erbil in one piece. I ask him about alternatives, but he has none. Jobs are few and far between, and he is happy to be earning money at all, even if it comes with massive risk.
This way to Mosul, the former IS stronghold
This evening, I hear many inspiring and impressive stories, such as Omar's. He co-founded the now world-famous "Mr. Erbil Fashion Club." He wants to shine a positive light on Kurdistan and show that there is more to this region than suffering, decades of war, and daily car bombs. It's a great cause that has given rise to a real gentleman's fashion trend in Erbil.
A supposedly safe option
A trip to Erbil or Kurdistan is basically the safest variant to travel to this region and get to know a piece of Iraq without seriously risking one's life. However, a particular residual risk is nevertheless given, so is also the next, for Austrians, responsible consulate only in Amman, Jordan.
Hospitality is written on no spot of the earth so large as in the Near East. Being friendly, polite, and courteous to a guest is deeply anchored in the DNA here. I am infinitely grateful to Sheyda and Reza for inviting me into their home and letting me stay with them. After all, traveling is about the people you meet, the people you learn from, and the experiences that broaden your horizons. (2017)
Note: This trip was taken a few years ago during the height of the war against IS. Safety has changed, and Kurdistan is finally a lovely place to visit again.
