Arriving in Iraq

When our passports are stamped and we walk into Iraq, Anna and I can hardly believe we've finally gotten here.
We jump into a taxi and ask for the driver to take us to Dohuk, a small city about an hour and a half from the border.  Our driver is pleasant and greets us with a smile, speeding off down the highway as the sun comes up over the horizon.

Sunrise in Iraq

The longer we cruise along this highway with peace and calm all around, the more excited I get.  I never thought we'd make it this far.  I never thought I'd convince Anna to come with me.  I'm ecstatic.
We arrive in Dohuk, a small city surrounded by high brown mountains which remind me a little of the Venezuelan Andes.  Etched into the mountains overlooking Dohuk are Kurdish flags.  They'd almost make you think we weren't in Iraq at all.

Dohuk

Murals in Dohuk

Kurdish flags painted onto the hillside

We head into our hotel through a coffin-shaped entrance and up a dark staircase.  The hotel is dark, really dark.  As it turns out, we're in the middle of one of Iraq's many daily power cuts.  There's a boy behind the desk who speaks no english and via a game of charades, we manage to get a hotel room.  We check in and have a snooze before deciding to explore Dohuk a bit.  Walking the streets, the men are in traditional dress everywhere, turbans and woven strips of material tied around their waists.  I'm a little apprehensive about how we should be dressed at first, but it quickly becomes clear that there's no extreme adherence to muslim dress codes, we're in a secular society.

Typical kurdish dress - Dohuk

Anna and I take a stroll along Dohuk's 'corniche', a river which cuts through Dohuk and is dotted with kiosks and gaudy bridges, painted a garish white.  As we stroll we're approached by a local who clearly wants to get to know us.  Unlike our taxi driver who gave us his card saying 'any problems, just call', this guy's brand of concern doesn't seem entirely wholesome.  We spend a good fifteen minutes trying to get rid of him and in the end just turn back for our hotel rather than exploring Dohuk's waterside any further.

When we get back to the hotel, the owner is there.  He speaks a few words of English, but not many.  He's obviously checked over his guestbook because as we arrive he says 'Sweden and Ireland?'
'Yes'
'You from Sweden?' he asks Anna.
'Yes'
'And you from Ireland' he says to me 'there is another Irish girl here.  You know her?'
'No.'
'She is a student in Damascus.  She speaks Arabic well.'
'Oh?'
'You know her?'
'No.'
'Where you go tomorrow?'
'Amadiya'
'Ahh..she is there today.  I tell her to talk to you.'
'Ok'
'Welcome!'
And with that, we head to our room.  We're in our room for an hour or so when there's a knock on the door.  I answer it to find a red-headed English girl there.
'Hi'
'Hi'
'I'm Coleen.'
'Clare...and Anna'
'How long have you been here for?'
'Just got in this morning.  You?'
'Last night.'
'Ahh...were you at the roadblock?'
'Yeah'
'With two guys?  One of you had a Palestinian scarf?'
'Yeah'
'Yeah, we saw you!  Were you able to get through that night?'
'Yeah, once the procession was over.'
'How long are you here for?'
'Just until tomorrow.  I have to go back to Damascus.  I study there.'
'Oh right'
'A few of us are going to go out for drinks.  You want to come?'
And so, next thing we're heading out to meet three more guys outside the hotel.  An American studying with Colette in Damascus and two Australians who've just arrived after being in Iran for several months.  We must look like the most conspicuous bunch ever.  We're the only foreigners in town and we're all bunched together like demented siamese twins. 

We enter a billiard hall where the boys claim a pool table.  The place is full of men and strewn with half-empty tea glasses so full of sugar that you can see the crystals stuck to the sides of the glass a mile off.  We're all hanging about having a good chat when suddenly the power goes out.  We're in a pitch black billiard hall, crammed full of people without a hope of finding each other, let alone a way out.  We're all in good humour so we continue our loud in-English conversation in the dark.
'I saw a generator' I say.
'Oh yeah?' one of the voices says.
'Yeah...they were using it as a doorstop'
Next thing, torches are switched on and we find our way out of the billiard hall where we find everything's blacked-out. Of course there are power cuts, we're in a country that's been bombed to shit very recently.

As we walk back to the hotel, lights flick on in the street.  The boys head back for more billiards and we head for the hotel.  I decide to ask the hotel owner about the best way to reach Amadiya the next day.  When I come out, the owner is reading a 'learn english' book.  He grabs me by the hand and takes me over to a sofa and shows me a page with the English and Arabic alphabets.  He says letters and gets me to repeat them after him, starting with 'alef.'  He grabs me a piece of paper and a pen and makes me start copying out the book.  As we go through the alphabet, he makes me repeat after him.  Things are going fine, until I stumble over a gutteral 'ahh' sound.
'Ahh' I say
'AhHHhgh' he says
'Ahhg'
'ahHHhgh!' he says
'ahrhh?'
'ahHHhgh!!'
'ahHhg'
'AHHHhGH!!!'
'ahHHgh'
'No, no!' and with that he grabs my mouth with both his hands, yanks my head back and opens my throat, pointing it at the ceiling with his fingers jammed down it.
'AhHHhgh,' encouragingly.
'aahHHhgg'
'No. AhHHhgh..' he says, removing one hand from my tonsils to gesture that it needs to come from the throat.  As if that isn't what I was trying to do!  He jams his fingers back in.
'AhH..' oh PLEASE let me get this right.  I've the rest of the alphabet to get through and I just want to go to bed! 'Hhgg..'
'Hmm'
At that point, Coleen's friend emerges.  Oh dear god, help me!
'You alright there?'
The owner looks gleeful.  My jaw hurts.
'Getting a lesson in Arabic' I say, waving my homework with the hopes he'll interpret it as a while flag of surrender.
'Have fun' and he disappears.
My teacher turns the page.  Thank GOD!
'Ok!' he says 'NUMBERS!'

The next day we wake early and head to the felafel shop in front of our hotel looking for breakfast and are served freshly baked flat-bread, a plate of fresh honeycomb,Turkish yoghurt and soft cheese with tea.  As we sit in the cafe eating, one of the waiters approaches to ask where we're from..  He pulls out his phone to show us clips of English footballers that he's downloaded on to his phone.  'ENGLAND!' he says.  Anna mentions names of some other footballers and he gets excited, gesturing for us to have a photo with him which his friend rushes to take. 

Iraqi Breakfast

The guy who served us breakfast

We leave the cafe with the boys looking awestruck to have met these crazy foreign girls and catch a taxi to the Amadiya garage.  We know we're supposed to pay 5,000 dinar for the ride but the guy going to Amadiya won't negotiate.  Apparently we have to pay 7,000.  No amount of bargaining helps, despite my throwing in the numbers in Arabic which I learnt the night before.  Our driver speaks English (some!) and grills us on where we're from and what we're doing here.  We're waiting for one more passenger before we can leave and when he finally arrives our driver says 'Ok. Tea first!'  He takes Anna and I over to the rest stop where five drivers are playing dominoes and gets us two steaming hot glasses of tea, looking particularly confused when we ask for it without sugar.  Once our piping hot glasses of tea are downed, we're officially allowed to continue on our way.

Attempting to bargain with our taxi driver

Amadiya taxi station, Dohuk

Taxi drivers playing domino

Drinking tea with our taxi driver