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.