The joys of travel

I feel the need to recount this journey, not so much to share how painful it was, which it was, but to show that miracles do happen. I had a flight on Atlas Jet leaving Sulaimaniya, Iraq at 4:30AM on December 19th. I had a hotel reservation at the Ottoman Imperial in Istanbul, Turkey for that evening and then my flight to Chicago, via Frankfurt, was at 8:25AM on December 20th. That gave me a day in Turkey to finish my Christmas shopping and go to the hamam for a scrub down, steam and massage.

I got to Sulaimaniya airport at about 1:30AM on the 19th and went through all the security and sat and waited. Finally around 2:30AM they said that the flight was canceled due to fog and they would call to let us know when the flight was rescheduled for.  I left my phone number with the airline and then called my driver and said in very poor Arabic "go Istanbul no". Yes, it is very bad Arabic. I left my luggage at the airport and went home. I went back to bed for a couple of hours and then woke up in a panic wondering if my flight was going to be leaving that day.

I finally get a call that my flight was rescheduled for 2:30AM on the 20th. Then at 3PM the fog rolled in. If the fog had not been so dense you would have heard my shrieks, but the very creepy fog muffled them. I started looking for alternate routes. Almost every place, Dubai, Amman, Geneva, cost about $3,000-$6,000. Then, I found a flight to Bahrain for $300 and the change flight would only cost another $1000. I bought the flight to Bahrain, which at that point had gone up in price and called United only to be told that there were absolutely no flights from Bahrain to the states. None. Then my driver came to pick me up and take me to the airport to pick up my luggage because there was no way that plane was leaving Sulaimaniya.

On the way to the airport I get a call that said to come to the airline's office right now because the buses to Erbil were leaving. Um, huh. They decided to bus everyone to Erbil and fly to Istanbul from there because of the fog. I get on a bus with the pilots and some airline staff and head off. Within ten minutes of driving the fog was gone. Thankfully, the roads to Erbil were dry. We arrived around 2AM. By the time we got checked through security and to the terminal it was 3AM. By the time everyone got tickets and the plane left it was 5AM. I knew my luggage was overweight and I was going to have to pay some cash. When the guy checking me in pointed that out, his supervisor said, "la mishkayla" or "no problem" and let me go through with out paying extra (miracle number one) At that point I thought I was not going to make my connecting flight in Istanbul.

Pull into Istanbul at 7AM (miracle number two) and pick up my luggage (which had been packed up by the airport people onto a truck and driven to Erbil. That would be miracle number three). I get my ticket and make it through security by 8AM. My flight was delayed by 1/2 an hour. Ok, I can still make it. Get on the plane and wait at the gate for another hour. I was not going to make my connecting flight to Chicago in Frankfurt.

I get to Frankfurt and get on a 5PM flight to Washington DC flying standby. The airport was a spectacular mess. All of Europe was a travelers nightmare due to snow. At this point I am thinking my backup plan is to go to Paris by myself for Christmas. I go to the gate and sit and pray. There were about twenty of us flying standby. Then they call my name and give me a ticket (miracle number four). I actually felt bad because there was a military guy trying to get home to see his kids, but there was no way I was letting go of that ticket. Somehow all of us managed to get on that flight.

We land in Washington DC with plenty of time to make my connecting Chicago flight (miracle number five). I go up to the counter and hand over my standby paper and the lady gives me a ticket with a seat number and I was booked on economy plus-whoot (miracle number six). My luggage didn't make it, but at that point I was so freaking happy to be in the States that I just didn't even care.

As we are ready to leave the pilot announces that there was a lot of snow in Chicago and I start to get worried. Thankfully, we take off. We land in Chicago and shortly after that they grounded all flights (miracle number seven). I made it to Dennis and Maria's around 12:30 in the morning after 33 hours of traveling. Not only did they have to provide me with shelter, but also clothing :)

Two days later they delivered my luggage. I have to admit, I've been pretty lucky traveling. This trip though, what is crazy is that every single thing that could go wrong, did go wrong, but then sorted itself out. It was a series of unfortunate fortunate events.

Airports in Iraq

I hear random grumblings from people about how invasive the new xray machines at the airport are and how they sometimes get pulled aside and patted down. Well, let me tell you how we do it Suly style. First you have to navigate your way through a bunch of concrete bunkers that have definitely been scraped up by cars. Stop and say choni baschi (hello how are you) to security at the gate. The next stop they search your vehicle and you have to get out of the car while a bomb sniffing dog goes around your car and sometimes up in it. Then you go to a building that is about half a mile away from the airport where you confirm you are a passenger and have someone scrutinize your passport.* At that point you have to go through security and 9 times out of 10 there is something odd in your luggage (I'm looking at you Iznik tiles) that invites further scrutiny. So, you have to pull your luggage off to the side where you are standing with your head of security, who was kind enough to drive you to the airport at 1:30 in the morning, and at that point you realize that your bra is right on top so you try to tuck it under and the security guard searching your luggage flips everything  over and displays your bra.

At this point, if you are lucky, you have made it through the first round of security and your driver meets you on the other side. While you have been going through security, he has had to go through security and leave an id at the office. If you do not have a driver, then you get on the bus. The final stop is the airport terminal where you have to go through security again. First though, if you are a woman, you have to go to the little room off the corner where you stand with your arms raised and your legs spread and get patted down thoroughly. Did I mention thoroughly? The security woman also looks carefully through your purse. The next step is to fight your way back into the security line and load everything up to go through the scanner again. Keep in mind that even if you are struggling with a big bag no one, not the security guys or a passenger, will help you. Then you have to open your suitcase and explain once again that the carefully wrapped package in bubble wrap are Turkish tiles. This time, thankfully, the security woman is kind enough to help you zip your over packed suitcase.

Finally, you are in. You sit down and realize that your flight is delayed by an hour, delayed by another hour and then canceled. You are told to leave your number and someone will call to let you know when your flight is leaving. There is no way to look up your flight before you leave to go to the airport to see what is happening.  (Al hamdilillah, someone did call to tell me the flight was rescheduled for 2AM the next day.)

I guess my point is, the next time you fly and have to step through the xray machine, please know that I envy you. 


*When I went to London I flew out of Erbil, which is definitely a nicer airport then Sulaimaniya. The guy checking my passport kept looking at me, looking at my passport, looking at me and then finally he said something to the effect of you were fatter. Yes, thanks for pointing that out. I also was frisked at three different times at the Erbil airport.

Protocol

My blue collar upbringing did not prepare me for some aspects of the life I currently lead. It did teach me quite a few important things like how to whip up a very creative meal out of nothing, how to hang drywall, ride a motorcycle, shoot a gun, and it instilled in me a very strong work ethic. While those are all wonderful skills that I cherish and trot out from time to time, I am completely ignorant when it comes to matters of protocol.

When I first started working at the institute I owned one suit, a couple of skirts and a couple of dress shirts. I had to create a business wardrobe on a shoestring budget. I took my cues from the people around me and gradually over the years developed the necessary wardrobe imparted with my own sense of style.We had many visitors from all around the world, including the Middle East, and I learned small things, for example never to offer to shake a mans hand unless he offers it first.

Through the years I have gotten used to meeting ministers and ambassadors as a part of the work that I do, but I still am a bit gauche. Ironically, my old boss, MCB made it very easy. I simply looked to him and hung back and he would gesture to me when it was my turn to walk through the door. He orchestrated the seating arrangement for every meal I ever attended, regardless if there was anyone of rank present. Even if we all sat down to the table and he was late, I knew that when he arrived he would move us about as he saw fit. At times it was endearing, or annoying, but at least I never had to worry about where I was supposed to sit.

Yesterday, I went with my boss to the airport to pick up an Ambassador who we have worked with over the years. When he was here last time he gave me some clues as to how to address people and to be aware of my, for lack of a better word, place in Iraqi society. There is a definite hierarchy here that is based on age and rank. I would say that we have this in the United States to an extent, but it is definitely not as pronounced.

I am not very good at walking slow and chit chatting and waiting for everyone to gather to sit down. In that aspect I am very much a brash American. So, yesterday I walked into the airport lounge and sat down while my boss and the Ambassador were walking slowly and chatting. He gestured to her to sit and she gestured to him to sit and then I realized my mistake. In order of rank, I was the lowest and I had sat down first. It might seem like something small, but it is something that could give someone offense. Quite honestly, you do not want to be pissing people off, especially if you need to work with them.

So, I need to move a little slower and be a little more patient (something that is not my strong suit) in order to follow protocol.

Things I miss

I miss you, drinking water out of the faucet, walking places, the fall farmers market and trying to carry as many pumpkins as possible home, morningstar breakfast sausage, the smell of rain, ice skating in grant park, being able to go to the pharmacy and get more nyquil, my routine, a medium dunkin donuts coffee with cream and sugar Monday- Friday and not having to say anything because the lady knows my routine, electricity, diners and a big plate of pancakes with eggs and potatoes, remembering to look up sometimes in the loop and be amazed at my brilliant city, being able to go out at night, calling people without calculating the difference in the time zone, putting up my 1950's Christmas tree, Wicker Park, thrift stores, really good drinks at the Violet Hour, buying local, seeing all the kids who call me 'Aunty', I guess if I say that then I have to add Adele and Prissy to the list, shoe shopping, speaking really fast English, networked computers, yarn, cottonwood trees, the lake, being able to get any type of food, and the first snow fall of the year.

There are things I have gained, like a greater appreciation for home, but I am definitely feeling a little homesick and I am happy that I will be there in nine days. Not that I'm counting!

Culture

It might be kind of obvious to say that the culture here is different, but it does deserve saying. I think the primary difference is an emphasis on family. It is hard for our staff when we ask them to leave their families and travel to Erbil for a couple of days, and sometimes up to a week. Typically when anyone travels around the country here for business they bring their family and that includes wife and children. Coming from a Western organization we have found that to be distracting to the business at hand and we do not allow anyone to bring their family. It is one of those things that I find it would be absurd to bring your family when you are expected to be working, but they find it inconceivable that we would ask them to leave their family behind. I cannot say which is better or worse, it is just different.

There is a definite emphasis on hospitality here. Any where you go you are offered tea. Guests are always invited in (if you are going to someones house you must remove your shoes) and offered tea and sweets. We now live one floor above our boss and she stopped by the other day to give us some cake. I, like a dolt, stood in the door chatting with her, and Kari invited her in and offered her tea.

Our boss had a baby and she said that so many people brought food and sweets. Now she has to return the bowls. She said that when you return a bowl you must return it with something in it, such as fruit or sweets. I thought that was a really nice tradition. The sense of community here is very strong. I think part of that is the culture, but the other part is because of what has happened to the Kurdish in the past. They are a very close-knit community, which can sometimes be a bit difficult for an outsider.

Next time you leave a dish at my house who knows what you will find in it when I return it.

An amazing experience

I do not talk often about the work I am doing, but yesterday's event deserves a post. My grant is an amalgamation of all of the projects my Institute has done in the past. Parts of the project seemed pretty straight forward, like work with Iraqi NGOs. Then, there was another component that involved bringing clerics from all different backgrounds from all over Iraq together to discuss reconciliation. When I read that I will admit I kind of panicked. There was no way that I, an American and a woman, would be able to even get these people in a room. Then I realized that I do not have to do it and so I hired a brilliant gentleman who made it happen. Working through our partner NGOs and the Universities we gathered a group of moderate clerics to discuss Islam and reconciliation.

The first step was getting them in a room together and the next step was to get them to talk to each other. Thankfully, they did talk. I learned more in an afternoon about Islam from their discussion then I could from reading any book about it. One of the clerics even made it clear that working with non-Muslims was more than acceptable, which made me feel like less of an outsider. I am looking forward to seeing what happens next.

 

Through the mountains

This morning we left early to go to Erbil for some meetings. As I mentioned before Sulaimaniya is ringed by mountains. The drive out of Sulaimaniya is a relative straightaway with a gradual rise up into the hills. The mountains are a brownish grey with bits of green scrub.

 Most of the mountains look a bit worn, but Azmar mountain stabs high into the skyline. Parts of the mountain  sheared off  years ago and it has a very flat rocky face. Passing through the outskirts of the city cows mingle with gas stations and the houses become a little less grand. The road also passes by one of the U.S. prisons, which looks quiet, but there are still people kept there. Occasionally there are checkpoints and most of the time we get through them easily. Not having blond hair and blue eyes helps. The road starts to rise steeply as we head to Dokan Lake. Here is where we always stop at a the same restaurant to stretch our legs and use the restroom (Ottoman style toilet). It also serves the best homemade yogurt I have ever had. It is thick, tart and creamy. Tearing off bits of flatbread you scoop up the yogurt with the bread. On the way home I'm going to stop and see if they will sell me some to go. A side dish of Ishta and honey with some really strong tea rounds out the meal.

Dokan Lake is not visible from the truck stop, although you can see the Little Zab river (it joins up with the Tigris further downriver)  rolling along gently. There are fish stalls piled high with beautiful fish fresh from the river. After leaving Dokan the road starts to rise steeply and there are many switchbacks. As you are trying to head up the hill, passing the slow moving trucks as you go, there are trucks coming down in the other lane grinding their gears as they downshift to slow down on the steep grade. Then as you crest the top of the hill and look back you see Dokan Lake glistening blue in the distance. Looking forward towards the road to Erbil this is what you see-

 

The scent of the air changes as well once you reach the top of the hill. It almost smells like burning lemongrass. They often burn the grass in order to prevent forest fires. Driving onwards the road dips and curves, but the color changes and the landscape is a sage green. Along the road there are more brick and thatch huts. Often the roofs are covered with a plastic tarp with rocks on top to keep the tarp from blowing away. A lean to is usually attached to provide cover for the donkeys. More sheep and goats are alongside the road and occasionally blocking the way. Wild dogs are seen roaming and foraging along side of the road as well. Often times there are cemetaries in the distance and in one of them the stones are so old and worn it is hard to tell what its purpose is. There are few cell towers or electrical towers and you feel transported back into time.

Then there is a pile of garbage smoking in the distance with wild dogs wandering through the trash and the road widens and you find yourself in bustling Erbil.

Laundry

I put my clothes out to air dry on a rack on the patio off of my bedroom. I went to gather up my clean clothes that are now nice and dusty and a pigeon had pooped on my sweater. Not once-twice. My poor lovely yellow sweater. I'm running it through the wash again and I hope it will come out poopless.

That leads me to, did I ever tell you the story about the guards and the pigeons. This happened before I was here, thankfully, but there are a lot of pigeons that roost in our compound. In fact, in one of the window boxes (for lack of a better word, we cannot for the life of us figure out why these things exist) a pigeon laid its nest. Two wee rats, I mean pigeons, chirped away until they were big enough to fly away and poop on my sweater. So, anyways, there are a lot of pigeons and the guards decided one night that the best way to get rid of them was to shoot them. Yup. Good times.

A new culinary delight

I have to admit that the food in this country has been disappointing. The national dish is biryani and kebab. The rice is good, albeit a bit oily, and it is served with a side bowl of beans or okra or apricots in tomato sauce. The best I can say about the side dish is that it is edible. There is a pomegranate sauce that is quite tasty on salad. The morning dish of samoon, ishtar and date sauce is really good. Samoon is like a doughy flat bread and you top it with ishta, which is cream made from water buffalo, and the date sauce is thick and sweet. The only problem is it tastes delightful, but it is high in calories and fat and an hour later I'm hungry.

Then yesterday someone brought in a jar of figs that their mother in law had made. The figs were soaked in some sort of honey sauce. Most of you have probably seen figs at the market and wondered what to do with them. I would advise not buying them because they will never taste like they are meant to. Here you get figs from the market and you crack them open and suck out the insides. I cannot quite describe the taste, but suffice to say one is never enough. All of that tasty goodness soaked in honey made me skip for joy.

This morning I had the honeyed figs on my oatmeal with some walnuts and it was one of the tastiest breakfasts I have had here. Thank goodness for mother in laws!

A new type of diet

I went to bed Wednesday night and I really didn't wake up until Friday morning. At some point the staff took me to the hospital, and I vaguely remember that. I had some type of flu or food poisoning. It is not like any flu or food poisoning I have ever experienced in the States. It just completely knocked me out. The good news is we know from my blood test that it was not typhoid fever. The fact that it could have been typhoid fever is a little scary. I'm lucky. I'm in relatively good health and if needed I could afford to go to a specialist. I am not sure how other people manage. In fact when people truly get sick they have to leave the country. Except that costs a bit of money, which not all people have.

I am thankfully on the mend and I am very grateful because all of our staff were very helpful. It's hard to be sick in a foreign country, but they did what they could to make sure I was ok. I am just hopeful I do not have to experience this again any time soon.

Travelogue interrupted by life

I had no hot water this morning because, as usual, the baji's unplugged the hot water heater. What makes this situation even more frustrating is that one gets in the shower and gets a full two minutes of hot water and then there is none. One would think that I would try to explain to the baji's that there is no need to unplug the hot water heater and the issue would be resolved. Um, no. I tried. Again.

What's the definition of insanity?

Delicious fall weather

When I checked the weather report before we left Sulaimaniya, it said it was going to be drizzly for a couple of days and then the sun would come out. To a person who had only experienced 90 seconds of rain in Duhok, that sounded like heaven. The next morning we all had a bit of a lie in and ate some delicious Turkish yogurt with muesli and fruit and then headed down the hill to get the train into Sultanahmet. We hopped on the train and took it to the touristy area. It was a chilly, grey, overcast day and it felt so good. We went first to the Hagia (pronounced eye-uh) Sophia, which was dedicated in the year 360. It is a beautiful church, that was initially used as such, but in the 1450's it was converted into a mosque. It is quite an amazing architectural feat because the columns are hidden and it is has a beautiful soaring open space.

We then went to Topkapi Palace. We stopped for a hot drink called salep (pronounced sal-hep) that was really tasty, especially when you are chilly. We then went through the harem, which was a mix of function and beauty. The Iznik tiles are stunning and the colorful designs are busy, but the overall effect is harmonious and peaceful. After touring the palace and seeing all of the jewels, we were a bit cold and decided to go to Cemberlitas (pronounced Chem-bur-lee-tash) baths. Being laid out and scrubbed down on a hot piece of marble is one of the best ways I know to spend a frigid and rainy afternoon.

We had dinner plans to meet someone (another mix of business and pleasure) and we went to a place called 360 right on Istiklal. It was a modern restaurant at the top of an apartment building with a 360 degree view of the city. We went to wait at the bar for our table and I looked down and almost fell over. I was sitting on a large piece of plexiglas that gave me a view of the eight story staircase. I felt like I was in an MC Escher drawing. As we finished dinner it turned into a night club and if I was not so tired I would have definitely stayed to dance. That is on the list of things to do next time.

Istanbul not Constantinople

I am still trying to catch up with my travelogue...They Might Be Giants has a song called "Istanbul not Constantinople" and it goes..."Istanbul was Constantinople/Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople/Been a long time gone, Constantinople/Now it's Turkish delight on a moonlit night." I found myself constantly singing it, because really, how can you not when you are in Istanbul. By the end of the week, even Kari was singing it and she didn't know the song!

I do not think I can do Istanbul justice with my mere descriptive words. It is a beautiful city and the perfect blend of East and West. It is a very European city and it is so easy to get around, even without speaking the language. Our first day there we stayed in a hotel in Sultanahmet and then in the morning we had a business meeting at another hotel. Afterward, we went to our apartment in Ciangir (pronounced gee-ung-er) Square in Taxim. We dropped our bags and started walking up the street to the main drag to catch the train to go to a mall. On our way we passed the cutest resale shop and I could not resist. I ended up buying a beautiful, green, red, and orange, 1950's wool plaid skirt and a burgundy crochet wrap. The neighborhood that we were in was a very interesting mix of people with upscale shops, tattoo parlors, antique and resale shops, bath houses and restaurants. It was definitely my kind of place. I brought very few fall or winter clothes with me and so ended up doing quite a bit of shopping at the mall. We stopped and had a cup of cappuccino and some tiramisu which was delicious.

We left the mall and took the train back to Taxim Square and came up the stairs to a crazy eddy and whirl of humanity. Istiklal street is closed off to traffic, except for a very old trolley that runs up and down the street. Everyone, men, women (some veiled, but most not), young and old, families, and students were strolling  down the street. We have been living in a town where only men are seen out on the street at night and I was overjoyed to see so many people, and especially women, out and about.

We did a bit more shopping on Istiklal and then headed back to the apartment with our arms full of packages and some take away. All in all, a very good day.

The next morning we had another business meeting, but considering we were meeting our host for breakfast at the Four Seasons in Sultanahmet, I was not going to complain. After breakfast Kari headed off to the dentist and I went to meet our landlord to settle our account. I lazed about in the afternoon and by the time Kari returned I was hungry and ready to a bit of exploring and so we headed off to Istiklal. The one thing I needed was a new pair of black dress/walking shoes, of course that meant I needed Camper shoes. We were walking down Istiklal and there it was, the Camper store. I found a very cute pair of shoes that have a dandelion on the top of one shoe and then the seeds are blowing across the other shoe.
 
Then we headed back to the apartment to wait for our friend B to arrive. By the time she came it was getting late and so we went to the restaurant located around the corner from our apartment. They had a great menu, but unfortunately they were out of a couple of things. I ended up with a delicious vegetarian sandwich. It was so nice to have delicious fresh and vegetarian friendly food. We went back to our lovely little apartment and turned in for the night.

Turkish food

The food in Turkey was absolutely amazing. Our first night there we stayed in the Sultanahmet district which is very touristy. We were hungry and tired by the time we arrived and checked in and so we were going to just eat at the hotel (by the way there are four Best Westerns in a two block radius in Sultanahmet), but they wouldn't serve us outside and so we went across the street. That was the best random decision ever. I usually don't gravitate towards the vegetarian menu because they are kind of hit or miss, but this was a definite hit. My dish was a bed of pureed eggplant that was cooked with a Bechamel sauce with roasted vegetables on top. That started the search for a Turkish cookbook.

Every meal we had, even if it was just from a fast food place was fresh and tasty. I was constantly amazed by the food and the service we received. One night we went out to a posh place and I had the grilled octopus that was served on the perfect bed of spinach. It, along with the view from the restaurant, was just sublime. One of my favorite dishes, wasn't even one I ordered, but I stole a bite, and was a sort of tortellini pasta served with a tomato yogurt sauce. I know it sounds odd, but it was amazing.

In our little Kurdish grocery store tonight we found the Turkish pasta. It was in the refrigerated deli section and looked relatively fresh. So tonight we cooked up the pasta, called manti (it is kind of like tortellini) and I made the yogurt sauce. Cook the manti like any other pasta. To make the sauce (for 4 people) you put a 3 Tblsp of butter, a smidge of crushed red pepper, and 1/3 of a cup of tomato paste in a saucepan and cook it until it is hot and bubbling. I put in a bit of paprika too. Crush two cloves of garlic and mix them into about 2 1/2 cups of plain yogurt. A nice tart yogurt would work nicely. Then once your pasta is cooked drain it, scoop it in a bowl, put a generous dollop or two of yogurt on top and a generous scoop of tomato sauce on top of that. Then mix it all up and enjoy.

After dinner have some Turkish delight and a bit of Raki, which tastes a bit like Sambuco or ouzo.  Just remember to water the Raki down first!

Another tale

We got back from Istanbul today (more on that later-let's just say I fell head over heels in love with the city and its people) and as we were trying to unpack and settle in here is a sample of today's findings:

"Have you seen my laundry basket?" It was found later in someone else's bedroom.

"Have you seen my rug- the one that was in my bedroom?" The rug was found rolled up and tucked away in the back of a closet.

"Have you seen my top sheet and my pillowcase?" The top sheet was found later on the bed buried under towels, but the pillowcase has yet to be found.

"Where is the silverware?" This question was followed by much banging about of cabinet doors searching for the basket that holds the silverware and the silverware in it. Then, since Kari banging about was not enough, I banged about the kitchen and finally gave up. Ten minutes later the silverware in its basket was found wrapped up in a plastic bag at the top back of a cabinet.

"Gasp-where is the cheese?" You have to understand that we go to Erbil once a month or so and that is the only place we can find good cheese. So, when we go we tend to stock up. Where is the cheese is a very big question, because we had at least three chunks of cheese missing. I did what any logical person would do when confronted with missing cheese-I opened the freezer. There was our beautiful pecorino. Frozen solid.

"I wish they would just leave these on the counters." This was said when searching for the metal canister that holds spices. Instead of being lined up in a pretty row on the counter where we put it, somebody had stashed it in a cabinet.

"I am now up to three liquid soaps and three bars of soap in my bathroom." This comment was made in response to feeling bad about being snarky about my missing sheet. I couldn't find my sheet, but I was going to be clean by golly.

We are looking for an apartment. Keep your fingers crossed that we find one because this type of thing starts to drive you a little batty. Nobody is doing anything maliciously, but this kind of well-intentioned kindness is going to kill me.

This blog is brought to you by pictures

I have so much I want to say, but I am exhausted. On top of that I got sick again and went to the pharmacy. I started taking antibiotics and three days later Kari pulled me aside and pointed out there was something wrong with me. When she said that it finally made sense as to why I was such a complete and utter mess. Iraq does not have an FDA and it is quite possible that the drugs I was supposed to receive were either switched or possibly contained something else. I stopped taking the meds, and while today I am a bit shaky, at least I am starting to feel more like myself. It was a little scary. I have many stories to tell, but for today I will leave you with some pictures of my trip to Duhok. (These were taken with my crackberry while in a moving car with the window closed).

Gone daddy gone

"I'm not dead yet". One conference done. On to the next one!! I probably won't be available for awhile.

Language again

I was googling the phrase 'please in Kurdish' in order to figure out how to say please in Kurdish and I stumbled across a list of proverbs and quotations in different languages. I still didn't figure out how to say please, but I did find something that reignited my faith in language, "Le langage est une peau: je frotte mon langage contre l'autre. C'est comme si j'avais des mots en guise doigts, ou des doigts au bout de mes mots. Mon langage tremble de desir."

Translation-
Language is a skin : I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire.
- Roland Barthes

Today was my first attempt at giving a speech and I forgot that having someone translate ones words impacts how you speak. I started out, then paused for translation, another sentence, pause for translation, another awkward sentence that I hope my translator translated correctly and did not translate exactly what I said, and so on. I did not quite know what to do during translation and so I looked down then looked up and I just did not engage my audience. I was also frustrated with myself because I know at least enough Arabic to say good morning, but once again I did not trust myself to say it correctly.

I talked to 'my fixer'*, who was also translating for me today about what he preferred from a speaker. Was it easier to have the speaker pause and translate each sentence, or have the speaker ramble on? He said it was up to the speaker. He had one boss who wanted him to just say what needed to be said, regardless of what he was saying. Regardless, I had to trust that my words were interpreted and translated to the audience.

During the break one of the participants, who I had met the day before briefly, asked me if I spoke Arabic. I replied I spoke very little (shwaya, which I said in Arabic). He then told me I needed to learn Arabic. I was a little frustrated at this point and I asked him how long it had taken him to learn English. He said he started learning in middle school and continued through college. Um, hello people, I can't learn Arabic in 6 weeks. This same gentleman also came up to me during the break and told me that I needed to look at the audience while I was speaking. Oh dear. 

I was talking to another friend who has done translation work and is very meticulous about his translations. We talked about how hard it is to pick the right word in English, let alone translate that to Arabic. Then another friend forwarded me an article by Michael Cunningham called "Found in Translation" that talked about how a novel is only partly finished and it is up to the translator to convey the thoughts.

What I am trying to say is, it kind of does not matter what I say because my words are in the hands of the translator.

*You know the guy in Italian movies, when they say, "I've got a guy". 'My fixer' is my guy. I hired him purely on gut instinct and now he is running part of my program way better than I could ever do. On top of it he manages a ton of other random things for us, because he's a fixer.

My office

Ta da! I have finally figured out how to take pictures on my crackberry and then email them to myself. Except, since my crackberry only works intermittently, I have to wait for the pictures to be sent. That requires patience, which I really do not have much of. 

Without further ado here are the pictures of my office:

This is actually a bedroom. It's the smallest of the three bedrooms and so there are closets in my office. 

 This is what I look at over my computer every day. It is a little disconcerting to see myself! Once again, there are the closet doors.  I did not pick out any of the furniture in my office, and I had to kind of laugh because the extra chairs in my office are red. Oh look, there's me.

I did take another picture of my desk looking neat and clean, but the crackberry didn't send it. You can kind of see my desk in the reflection of the mirror. I once overheard an old boss say that so and so's desk was a mess and they felt it was an accurate depiction of so and so's work. Ever since then, I've been obsessive compulsive about keeping my desk clear. I do not believe that having a clean desk means that you are a better worker, but I think that the perception is true. So, I try to have my piles stacked nicely and if you walk in and my desk is a complete mess, then you know it is a bad day.

One final bonus picture. This is a picture of the new language lab at Salahaddin University, which is located in Erbil, with the Dean, my coworkers and I.  The Dean was so proud of this lab. As we were walking back to his office I saw a poster of the International Declaration of Human Rights. I stopped in my tracks and I, of course, couldn't explain why I had stopped in my tracks. Thankfully, someone translated for me and the Dean said they had it translated and hanging elsewhere in Arabic. It just made my little heart go pitter pat.

The Bajis strike again

You know how I'm an only child and I don't like to share (I'm talking to you Kris- don't you dare eat my last bite of desert), well I am having to share. A lot. Our kitchen is used by all of our staff, since we live in our office. I had to bite my tongue yesterday as I watched somebody stir soup in a teflon pot with a silverware spoon, not a stirring spoon. On top of the staff using stuff and moving things around, the Bajis move things. Every day they move things. I'll open the cabinet to reach for a pot and there is the tupperware. I then have to go banging through all of the cupboards until I find the pots and pans. The other day I couldn't find the salt. I'm not sure why the salt had been moved, but it had. My favorite was the day that we think they cleaned the cabinets. It took us a week to recover from that episode.

Yesterday, one of the bajis brought up a pile of mouse traps. These aren't typical mouse traps, in fact they look more like something you would keep a mouse as a pet in. I stupidly asked why are we setting mouse traps and I am told there are no mice, but we have to. 'We have to' is a common answer, along with, 'that is how it is done here'. Let me tell you what we have caught in the mouse trap-ants. A whole swarm of ants. In fact, our ants are so spoiled that today the bread is stale and they don't want any. Seriously.

In other news the washing machine ate a load of my clothes. Tuesday night I put a load in and when I went downstairs there was an error. I turned it off, turned it back on, pressed the child proof buttons, pressed the add a garment button, kicked it and finally unplugged it. Wednesday, I try to explain the washing machine is broken. Bob and I go down and I show him that it has an error and that it won't open. Then I am told that the washing machine would have to be taken to the shop, because of course there is no Maytag man. I think the washing machine, along with my clothes, went to the repair shop. I hope they come back. I really do not have a large wardrobe here and losing a whole load of clothes would be a bit rough. I'm also a little disconcerted about the fact that my unmentionables are traveling around Sulaimaniya without me.

I managed to have a conversation with Bob today that was at least at the kindergarten level. I asked if there would be a car available and if we could go to the store after work. Then I went to the grocery store and the fruit market all on my own. It was my first time heading out by myself. Ok, fine, Bob helped translate the Kurdish numbers for me at the fruit stand. But still.

Gifts

I remember in my high school choir we sang a Shaker song in a round, "Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free, 'tis the gift to come down where we ought to be, and when we find ourselves in the place just right, 'twill be in the valley of love and delight. When true simplicity is gained, to bow and to bend, we shant be ashamed, to turn, turn, will be our delight, till by turning, turning we come round right."

It comes to mind because there are some people here that are so giving and they are typically the ones who have little to give. One of our security guards is so nice. He loves the television show 24 and I think he likes to imagine that he is our Jack Bauer. He showed us a Kurdish/Arabic/English book and Kari asked through gestures and broken Kurdish and English if we could photo copy it. He tried to give it to us then, but we said we would take it later. Then today he gives me a copy and I say thank you in Kurdish and try to explain I will bring it back. He says no, I say yes and then finally I say thank you. A little while later the doorbell rings and he brought another copy for Kari.

I cannot quite explain how much that gesture touched my heart. Kari kept telling me not to cry, because I had tears in my eyes. Sometimes it is the very simple things that matter the most.

Can I go outside and play?

At the end of every day I gather up my laptop, including the cord, pile my homework or any reading I need to do on top of it, and I head to the top floor to our 'living room'. At that point in time Kari and I should work out, but lately we have been hunkering down for a couple of more hours of work, breaking for dinner and going back to work. Today I sat down at the kitchen table to do some homework, because, um hello, statistics is hard. Then I hear Kari and Mo say we get to play futbol. I was so happy that tears of joy came to my eyes. I couldn't sit still, so I ran downstairs and changed. Then I came upstairs and I was ready. No, really, I was ready. I had to sit and wait for awhile, but then finally after half an hour we went outside. Did I mention I was so ecstatically happy. We have not been able to go outside and play ever. We were supposed to play with one of the other staff, but he could not make it. That meant we had no soccer ball.

We tried to explain to the guard and our driver that we were just walking over to the field. Our driver was really trying to drive us somewhere. We just gave up and walked away. There was no way I was going back inside. So, Mo and I start jogging towards the soccer/basketball field. Kari refused to do something so indecorous. Keep in mind we still did not have a ball. So, we started jogging around the field, which was the size of a basket ball court, not a soccer field. After a couple of laps we switched directions. For every step that Mo took, I took two and for every step I took, Kari took two. He could have lapped us about ten times. At this point our security guards wander over and they truly do not know what to do with us. At one point I was so giddy and laughing so hard that I couldn't run anymore. Crazy Americans! One of our guards went and talked to the guard at the gate to our compound and thankfully he had a soccer ball.

Keep in mind, I am a swimmer. I played kickball with the boys in grade school and I had one semester of gym class in high school. Kari was on the soccer team, probably the basketball team and I'm sure if they would have let her she would have been on the football team. Of course Mo was a soccer star. Basically, I just ran around and laughed a lot. Then, as dusk fell, Mo was kicking the ball across the court and we couldn't see the ball until it hit us, so we switched to basketball. I did pretty good and in fact Kari and I won. Our guards were laughing and cheering us on. We played until the bats were swooping over the court (let me rephrase that, they were actually swooping in the court), the sun had gone down and it was so dark we couldn't see the ball. It was kind of like when you were a kid and your mom was calling, but you really didn't want to go home. Just one more game.

Baji tales

We have two very delightful women who are responsible for cleaning the offices. We have four floors and each floor has two bathrooms, so it is a bit of a task. They only speak Kurdish and I only speak English. Generally we are able to communicate through hand gestures. Anyways, I have been remiss in telling you the baji (it is actually an honorific in Kurdish that means oldest sister/aunt) tales. My first day here I had no hot water. I found out later that it was because a) the baji unplugged the hot water heater and b) the baji broke the heating component. Thankfully our head of security Bob took pity on me and fixed the heating component. So, this morning I step into the bathroom after only 5 hours of sleep and all I get is cold water. That would wake you up, except for the part where the water was too cold, so I didn't actually get under the shower head. I had a sponge bath instead.

I walk out and tell Bob in broken Arabic that I had no hot water before I forgot to check that the hot water heater was plugged in. Of course Bob walks over to the hot water heater and plugs it in. We have a laugh-ha ha ha. I then went in search of tea. The baji strikes again. I think that maybe they feel they are saving electricity. Occasionally the air conditioning units are also turned off at the power source, and power strips are unplugged. I wish that they would choose to save water instead, because their notion of washing the floors is to take a bucket of water and throw it on the floor. Then they use a squeegee and chase it down the drainpipe. If they are cleaning the bathroom floor they take, for lack of a better word, the bum sprayer, and spray down the bathroom and walk away.

I think that may be enough baji tales for the day. Do not fear, there will be more.

What language do you speak

Some of you may remember a story I told a couple of years ago about traveling from Madrid to London and in the Madrid airport I was trying to change money. In one single sentence I spoke French, English and Spanish. The gentleman in perfect crisp English asked me, "what language *do* you speak?". At that point I had no idea. That is kind of where I am right now.

There are so many layers of conflict within this country that trying to sort it out makes my head spin. One current divide, that I'm kind of living in, is between Kurdistan and Iraq. There is a lot of history behind this divide, which I am still trying to sort out and I am just too tired to explain, but let me show you how it impacts my day.

My morning starts with 'choni bashi' (which is Kurdish and translates to, 'hello, how are you, I am well' and yes all of that in two words) and ends with tisba alal khair (Arabic for goodnight). Our office is primarily Kurdish and almost everyone speaks English. The cleaning ladies do not speak any English and we speak through my limited Kurdish and hand gestures. There are a couple of administrative staff who have limited English (in fact their English is probably better than my Arabic) and speak primarily Arabic. Quite a few of the staff speak English, Arabic and Kurdish. And then there is me. I knew moving here that the cultural divide and language barrier would be challenging, but trying to sort through two languages at once is a bit much.

One day this week I was told to come to a meeting and the person who called the meeting was only speaking in Kurdish (even though they speak fluent English). After a couple of sentences one of my staff members said, "I am going to switch to English" and then we had our meeting. Language is a useful tool. It is also used to demonstrate power. Most everyone is appreciative of my attempts to learn and speak, whether it is Arabic or Kurdish. Well, almost everyone.

I am trying to focus on learning Arabic, but then the question becomes which version? Formal written Arabic (which is very different from spoken), Egyptian Arabic, or Iraqi Arabic? Then even as I try to focus on Arabic a little Kurdish creeps in to my lesson. My Arabic teacher is a gentleman who drove a cab in Baghdad for 15 years and then in 2003 (the invasion) he got a job working with some Americans as a translator. Except, then his life was threatened because of his involvement with the Americans and he went back to driving a cab. Finally he ended up with his wife and son in Sulaimaniya and he expressed such sadness on not being able to protect them in Baghdad that it made me hurt and angry. Every day I hear stories like this. Every, pardon my french, damn day. I am very grateful that he agreed to help me because from him I learn more then just Arabic- I learn about life.

Now I have completely random Kurdish words in my head. Today, for example, we went to the mewa (fruit stand) to get some shooto (watermelon). My driver for today's expedition speaks a bit of English. I think in many cases people understand more English then they are able to speak. The same is starting to happen to me with Arabic. Our head of security also got into the car (keep in mind I was just going to the grocery store and did not need a full security detail). So I asked him, "yallah Zara kak Bob (names have been changed! and Zara is the name of the store). What I said was "go (Arabic) Zara Mr. (Kurdish) Bob". I sound like a two year old. He always appreciates my attempts to speak though and laughed and explained in bits of Arabic and English that he was going home.

I think too that I am being a little bit hard on myself and I have only been here for a month and I have learned more Arabic then some previous staff members who lived here for a year. I am looking forward to the day that when I try to speak Arabic I do not first search through my brain for the word in French and then try to find the right word in Arabic and come up blank.

On being a woman

Most days I do not even notice that I am a girl. It is just a part of my general make-up, like being five foot seven with hazel eyes. Here, it is something I notice every single day. Take today for example, we were having a conference at a local hotel and I walked in the door and every single man in the lobby (sitting there smoking cigarettes and drinking tea) turned and looked me up and down. I am not talking about a subtle glance- I mean they raked their eyes over every part of my body. I've become quite accomplished at ignoring them. What makes it worse is that I was accompanied by not one, but two Iraqi men. That alone should have made me invisible to any stranger. Another example, as Kari and I walked up to the counter to check out of the hotel in Erbil I saw two men sitting in the lobby (smoking cigarettes and drinking tea). One guy saw us and then poked his friend so they could stare at us. It was like we were exotic animals in the zoo. I could understand if we were in the middle of nowhere and they had never seen a foreigner, but this was a very Western hotel. Last week we walked to a restaurant near work and it was brilliant to be able to leave the office and go to lunch. Partly because of the heat and partly because of Ramadan we had not been leaving the office during the day. We walk into the restaurant and there are a ton of tables open in one section and yet my co-worker is trying to find a table in a crowded section. When I point out the uncrowded area he told me that was the men's section. A whole freaking section of the restaurant was dedicated to men (smoking cigarettes and drinking tea). It also dictates how you can do work here. There is a part of my project that deals with conflict resolution in communities that are actively in conflict. No, I am not going to those communities, but somehow I have to get the work done. Someone contacted us about doing a play about reconciliation and I was seriously considering the idea. Then I found out that men and women cannot go to see the play together. Do I have a separate performance for each gender?

I identify myself as a feminist. Even though feminism is now a dirty word. I firmly believe in equality between men and women. I knew that women's rights were not the same in the middle east, but there is a vast difference between knowing and experiencing. I am lucky too because my situation is very different then a lot of women here. I work for an international organization and I'm the boss. My entire staff, except one woman, are men. Quite a few of them tested the boundaries, because I think they expected me to be a pushover. They got a little surprise instead.

On the flip side, I get annoyed when people expect middle eastern women to be feminists. It took women in the United States quite some time before they got the vote and we still only make, what, seventy cents to the dollar. Here we are at the beginning stages of feminism. I know that through example, training and time, things will gradually change. Regardless, I wish men would at least act respectfully, especially since I am not walking around on my own wearing high heels and a short skirt. In the meantime I will continue to be a muted version of myself but sometimes that gets tiresome.

Roadtrip

You may get the impression that I am kind of frustrated by being trapped in the office. A chance to leave the office is like a holiday to your favorite place, even if it is just going to the fruit stand. Yesterday we got to go to Erbil for some meetings. For now I will just give you the highlights:

Many animals crossing the road.
Beautiful mountains.
Going to the bathroom in something that very closely resembles a hole in the ground.
A dinner under the stars (it was comfortable enough to eat outside).
Meeting people I have been friends with on facebook for years for the first time.
Going to a mall with real shops.
Stopping at an Iraqi truck stop in Dokan.
Buying king size sheets that I hope will fit my bed.
Oh yeah, and some work stuff.

Things that start to drive you mad

First, I have to say that I am very grateful that the crazy guy in Florida didn't burn any Qu'ran's. It is sometimes difficult to be an American living in the Middle East, especially when other Americans choose to deliberately insult Islam.

There are certain conveniences and things that you do not even realize are a part of your daily life until they are gone. This is a sample of some of the things that are starting to drive me slightly insane. So, please excuse my mini-rant.

There are no manila folders or hanging files. Imagine life with piles of paper that are in plastic sleeves with no labels. Piles of them. Supposedly, there are files out there, we just don't have them.

The water drips in my toilet, constantly.

There is no recycling. Not even people who come through and pick through the garbage like in Chicago. Everything here gets thrown away. It just seems like a lot of waste to me.

There is a constant film of grit that covers everything, including the inside of my mouth.

It is hot. It is starting to cool down at night, but it is still a hundred some odd degrees out during the day and that is just too darn hot.

There are grasshoppers the size of my hand and when they hit you in the head it feels like a bird has landed on you.

There are ants everywhere. Every morning when I go to the kitchen I kill them. I realize that I am a vegetarian, but I cannot think of any humane way to get rid of them.

I can't go for a walk. If I want to just wander around town and go for a walk, I can't. Granted, I have it better then the embassy folks who have to wear a flack jacket whenever they are in the car, but still. I have very little freedom and someone has to know where I am at all times.

I live in my office- 'nough said.

This is the most tragic one of all...a lot of our T.V. channels come from Saudi Arabia and are subject to censorship. I was watching the end of Pride and Prejudice (the Kiera Knightley version) and they cut the final kiss along with the proposal scene. I mean seriously, how racy can Pride and Prejudice be!!!

I have a king size bed, which is actually way too big for me (yeah, I know, tragic). I sleep with my bad leg hanging off the bottom of the bed, because my ankle doesn't lay flat and that is difficult to do in a huge bed. Anyway, I have a queen size top sheet as my bottom sheet and a queen size duvet as my top sheet and a queen size blanket made out of some slippery fabric. Every night I have to re-tuck the bottom sheet and I wake up cold every hour because the blanket has slid to the floor. It does not make for very a very restful night.

I know that compared to some international postings, I actually have it quite posh. We have internet, air conditioning (at least when the electricity works) and a nice T.V., but when you have given up your job, family and friends and traveled half way across the world there are certain things that can start to really get to you.

I really miss cottage cheese, whole wheat and brown sugar. Not to mention Thai food. Oh well, at the same time I have been on a culinary adventure and had the opportunity to try some amazing things.

Going to the doctor in Iraq (sing along to going to the chapel!)

When I left the states I was sick. When I got to Turkey I was sick. When I got to Iraq I was sick. That was three weeks ago and today I am still sick. Finally, the staff in Iraq took me in hand and told me I must go to the doctor. Thankfully, one of our staff made the appointment for me and took me. We pulled off the paved road and onto one of the dirt roads and tucked in a corner was the eye, ear, nose and throat doctor. Half the reason there are so many SUV's in this country is because the roads are so bad. Anyway, we walk into a a small waiting room with plastic chairs and a woman who is wearing a veil, a lot of eye make-up, skin tight pants and a tunic with stilettos, tells us to take a seat in Kurdish. This is why my friend came with me, because my Kurdish is not very good! While we were waiting the electricity went out and stayed out for about 5 minutes. Five minutes in 100 degree weather with no fan or air conditioning becomes quite uncomfortable. The woman then directed us to the doctor's office, even though he was finishing up with a patient. Thankfully he spoke English and I was able to describe my current syndromes. He was very professional, my only concern was I do not know if the tools he used on me were clean or not. He told me I had influenza that was complicated by sinusitis. He gave me a script for an antibiotic, nose drops, claritin and a suppository. Um, huh? Then we walk around the corner in the same building to the pharmacy and I am given an antibiotic, nose drops, claritin and cough syrup. A little bit of a difference, but cough syrup makes a lot more sense. The doctor's visit cost 10,000 Iraqi dinar, which is about $8 and the drugs cost 17,500 Iraqi dinar, which is about $15. I'm trying to figure out if I can submit the Iraqi receipt for reimbursement to my insurance!

I took the first round of antibiotic, cough syrup (which tastes horrendous) and nose drops and for the first time in days I have not coughed for a whole hour. It is a miracle. I'm just hoping the whole kit and caboodle knocks everything out of me. I have things to do and people to see!

There is always something

You know how I have a tendency to go "oh, shiny" and get distracted and wander off to something else that is, you know, shinier. It is happening to me even worse right now because I am fighting the cold I caught in Chicago before I left. So, I am backing up a couple of days to finish the whole story.

On our way to Zewa we went through a security checkpoint and we were waved right through. Our friend who was driving commented that if we had been blond and blue-eyed, then we probably would have been stopped. I do not look Kurdish or Arabic, but at least I do not completely stand out!

On the way home we passed through the same checkpoint and there was a very long row of tanker trucks pulled off on the side of the road. There are always trucks here, especially since every single thing is imported. Except, these trucks were not importing necessary goods. I'm including the article from the
New York Times, because it describes the situation in much better detail then I could possibly recount. Every day I find something out. Most of them are things I would much rather remain ignorant about.

American cooking

I forgot to mention that while up on the mountain I also drank water that came from a spring. I'm still standing. It would have been rude to refuse, since our host was so enthusiastic about the fresh water. It did taste quite lovely. Saturday (which is kind of like your Sunday) we went to an Iraqi friends house to just hang out and watch Egyptian telanovella. It was nice to be able to lounge about chatting and watching very dramatic soap operas.

At 4 o'clock the electricity went out. That was the end of the state sponsored electricity for the day and that meant no more air conditioning. I don't know if I've described this, but people run lines to someone who owns a generator and buy a certain number of amps from them. It costs money and so it is too expensive to run the air conditioner. Our friend had, what I have heard called, a swamp cooler, that helped keep things cool. It is this giant drum that spins and I think there is water involved, but I cannot even begin to describe how the thing works.

I made pancakes and scrambled eggs for dinner. A first for our Iraqi friend, and as we were eating dinner her two year old daughter brought the Saddam playing cards to the table. I do not know if you remember these, but years ago the American military put the pictures and rank of all of Saddam's henchman (and one woman) on playing cards and distributed them to Iraqi's. It was a bit surreal to see something that you had only heard about being played with by a child.

Going to the mountains

Friday we went to the mountains. A friend's brother invited us to dinner at his place in Zewa, Iraq. What amazed me was it was only 20 minutes outside of the city. At first it was only a gradual incline as we headed out of the city. Then as we headed into the mountain we started climbing up and there were many switch backs. We drove past the village with the chickens in the street and continued our climb. Until finally, we reached the end of the road. The house was up a bit higher and we climbed many steep stairs to reach it. The view was amazing. Both Kari and I just stopped for a moment and looked out at the mountains and simply took a deep breath. Living and working in the same place can start to make you feel a little stir crazy. We are always very grateful for the opportunity to leave the flat, let alone the city. Dinner was family style and there was biryani (which is rice, with vegi's, potatoes and chicken, which I picked out), a rice with cinnamon and raisins, another rice dish with some spice I could not identify and raisins, a tomato and cucumber salad, and another vegetable salad with tamarind sauce as the dressing. Needless to say, there was plenty of food. After dinner we went for a walk up the hill and up into the mountain to the visit the grave of a holy man.

I'm going to mangle the story, but some guy came to Iraq, who was not of one of the monotheistic religions, to convert the people. He died before he ever converted anyone, but they respected him and buried him in the mountains. People come and tie a bit of cloth in the tree and pray to him for luck.

The rest of the evening was spent drinking tea and talking. As we left the lights were turned out in the house and the stars overhead were brilliant. The big dipper was hanging low in the sky and it looked like it was trying to scoop up the earth. It is always comforting to see something familiar in a foreign place.

Food

I have been meaning to write about food for awhile. Food here is expensive. Most everything has to be shipped in, because there is no industry here, because there is no constant electricity. Cooking requires being innovative. Thankfully, I brought some spice mixes with me and Kari also had some. My first meal here was at a Turkish restaurant that has some of the best service in the city. We had quite a few meze (small dishes) that were middle eastern in flavor, but one was a tomato based dish with a bit of sweet and spice that was delicious. The only problem was we asked for it to be wrapped up so we could have some of the delicious leftovers, but that was lost in translation. It is Ramadan here, so we work from 9-2 and then pick up again from about 5-10. The next day I decided to make pasta sauce with tomato paste (they have tons of canned tomato paste here, but no canned tomatoes), tomatoes from the market, onion, garlic, basil and some Italian herbs. The sauce turned out really well and I put it on a local bread that is not quite a pita bread, but close, then sprinkled some grated kashkaval cheese that is from Turkey and then put it in the microwave on grill. We could not get our oven to work until this week, but the microwave had a broiler function that was very useful. Ta Da I made pizza. Kari had some mozzarella but that was what the label said, not what it was in actuality.

For breakfast I have Greek yogurt from Greece. I found it at the Kurdistan market and then the next time we went shopping at Zara (not the European clothing store) and they did not have any Greek yogurt. Today at Zara there was Greek yogurt. You never seem to be able to get the same thing with any consistency.

Tonight for dinner we had thai with shrimp. Our next big challenge is Mexican. We think we found tortillas, but it will take testing them first to make sure. I also kind of made an angel food cake, but I didn't have anything to turn it over on to let it fluff up and cool off, so it is a bit smushed. Oh well, it tasted good. I'm sure tomorrow will be another adventure.

Answers to your questions

In the back of my mind as I write this blog I have security concerns. I would rather not have a flashing neon sign that points to my office and home. Suly is a safe place, but I am still aware of where I live. Then I realized that was kind of ridiculous, because they know who we are. Just yesterday Kari received mail. We were both completely shocked because there are no addresses here. Except, duh, they know who we are. For all of its growth, Suly is a small town and believe me, we stand out. If anyone can figure out what the brothel looking building is, then I am sure they can find me, except everyone already knows who I am and where I live!

In answer to your transportation question- we have security guards and drivers. Thankfully Kari speaks Arabic because our head of security speaks Arabic. Most of our guards speak Kurdish. In that case we manage to communicate in broken Kurdish, English and Arabic. I should say Kari manages because I am still pretty mute. I plan on taking Arabic lessons with one of our staff starting after the end of Ramadan. In the meantime I just keep picking up stray words.

Oh the heat. Ironically, it has been a bit cooler. The temperature is in Celsius and I have chosen not to know! In Baghdad in a parked car the temperature can get up to over 160 degrees. True story. Suly is much cooler thankfully, but it is still over 100 degrees. We are lucky because when the electricity goes out the generator kicks in. Sometimes there is a delay though and it does start to get uncomfortable. Not unbearable, just uncomfortable. This afternoon I was in the bathroom and the power went out. It was pitch black and I did shriek like a little girl. Usually when it happens at night, either Kari or I are on the computer and so we have the glow of the computer. The next thing we need to find our flashlights! As I said, we are lucky, most of the staff live in neighborhoods with rolling blackouts and so they do not have air conditioning through the night. You can kind of understand why they are a bit pissed off at Americans.

Out my window

Somebody said they wanted to know what I saw out my window. Out of my bedroom window- not much. Just the apartment complex and the parking lot. If I lean off the balcony I could probably see the guards smoking. The view out of my living room (which I share) is much different. Out of one window is a view of the newly built mosque, which is quite beautiful. There are still a bunch of construction trucks surrounding it though. Then you see the hotel, which glows orange at night and looks a bit like a brothel. Past that is a a part of the city, which is a sea of drab colors and electrical lines strung about. Then past that are the mountains, which are a greyish green, but glow when the sun is setting. They also glow when they are on fire, which happened my first night here. I went running to Kari and she said, "oh yeah, they do that". They burn off the brush in order to prevent fire, kind of like they used to do on the prairie (good thing I read all those Little House on the Prairie books. Fire is a serious threat here. Just last month a hotel caught on fire and instead of evacuating the guests the hotel owner called the owners of the cars parked below. People were jumping out of the windows and most of them died. So, after hearing that story you can understand my fear. We do have a fire extinguisher. I checked.

Out of the other window is a huge building that is only partially built and blocks a beautiful view of the city and the surrounding mountains. Who knows if the building will ever be completed. Considering what I have seen of the skeleton, I don't know if I will ever set foot in it. Building standards around here are nonexistent. The light in my office is not quite secured and there are electrical wires just hanging out. When you walk into a room it looks really nice, but then you stop and look and it is just off. For example, the tiles in one of the bathrooms have a border of flowers that are really pretty, except one of the tiles was hung upside down.

A view out of my window leads to a segue about building standards. Ironically, as I type this the lights are out. Which happens frequently. Usually the electricity goes out and the generator kicks in. This country couldn't run without generators. This time though, the generators haven't kicked on. Anyway, that pretty much mimics my day. This morning I got up with one plan, but then I had to go get my residency visa and the day was hijacked by something else. The good news is there is an Iraqi visa in my passport that is good for two months. I have to go back then and get another one. In sh'allah it will be for a year.

Week One

First impression of Iraq is it is hot. You step out of the airplane on to the tarmac and the heat rips your breath away. I picked up my luggage and Kari was at the airport waiting for me. It's always delightful to have someone pick you up from the airport, especially when you are carrying a ton of luggage! I had Tuesday to settle in and then Wednesday and Thursday I dove right in and started working.

We have a building in an apartment complex where we live and work. Kari and I both have the master bedroom suite on different floors and then we share a kitchen and living room. It is kind of odd to live where you work, but I cannot deny that the commute is easy!

Everyone I have met has been so nice. We went out with someone Thursday night to the movies and to dinner. The movie theater is pretty new and they show American films with Kurdish subtitles. Friday night I finally met a gentleman that has worked with us in Iraq for seven years. Kari and I went out to dinner with him and his wife to an Iraqi restaurant. The food was really good. I had a rice dish with okra in a tomato based sauce. Afterward we went to a party hosted by some expats in our complex.

All in all a wonderful first week in Iraq.

Still in Chicago

I wanted to get a blog up and running before I left. Welcome. I leave for Istanbul Saturday night where I have one day for some r and r, then I fly to Sulaimaniyah next Tuesday. I am exhilerated, excited and freaked out all at once!