City Post: Iraqi Kurdistan - Part One (Erbil)

I couldn't believe I had landed back in Iraq, this time on a civilian aircraft. I met a guy on the plane who was a soldier returning from emergency leave. He was in civilian clothes and had all of his gear stowed under the plane. A far cry from when I was in country flying around on C-17s, C-130s, Chinooks, Blackhawks, and Hueys. When we disembarked, there were black vans with signs for various field-grade and general officers. They got the special treatment, I guess, while the lowly enlisted got to go through customs.

Immigration was simple enough. Showed my e-visa, told them which flight I was on, and headed into the country. It was shockingly easy, actually, and reminded me of the first time I realised how easy international travel was. Even to a combat zone, apparently. Pulling money out of the ATM, however, was less easy. several of them didn't work, probably because they were low on funds, but after a few tries I found one that did. I grabbed a taxi into the city center.

Talk about a surreal experience. The airport grounds at night seemed immaculate. As we drove past all of the various security checkpoints heading into the airport, I saw high-rise buildings to our front. As we headed towards them, I didn't feel like I was in Iraq. I felt like I was on the outskirts of the Vegas strip. There were malls, two-story fast food restaurants, and hotels with flashing lights on the sides. Sure, traffic reminded me of Cairo, but Erbil was the most modern place I had been in months. That was wholly unexpected.

The hotel was pretty close the the Citadel, which is at the center of town. It was also two doors down from the Iranian consulate. The joke, I would learn, is that I was staying at one of the safest places in the city, because the militia groups wouldn't launch rockets at this hotel. It was too close to the consulate to risk the rocket missing or bouncing off and hitting the Iranians. It was an ironic event in my life. When I was in Iraq before, the Iranians caused the vast majority of my problems. Now, they were the ones preventing those very same problems from affecting me.

The hotel was quite modern. I had a two-bed room (because my friend had canceled after I arranged the two beds) on the third floor. They accepted card, and the concierge was one of the more helpful I'd had on this adventure across the globe. My credit card didn't work at first, because my bank is a bit overly-cautious when it comes to fraud alerts. They told me this was no problem, and I could simply pay when I sorted it out with my bank. It could be in a day or two, no problem.

He also explained to me how the currency situation worked in Iraq. There was the official exchange rate, which was about 1300 Iraqi Dinar (IQD) to 1 USD. This was set by the Bank of Iraq, and is the mid-market rate that the entire world's digital economy works with. However, Iraqis claim that this exchange rate is "not real" and "made up" by the bank. The "real" exchange rate fluctuates, but, at the time, was trading at 1550 IQD to 1 USD. He strongly encouraged me to exchange USD at one the exchange shops so I could get the "real" exchange rate to pay for my room. If I used card or pulled money out of the ATM, I would be paying more, because they would charge me based on the 1550 rate, and my bank would calculate that at the 1300 rate. Well, I didn't have enough USD after being on the road for six months, so I just took the hit.

My first day in Erbil, I honestly didn't do too much. I was cautious about being a lone American in Iraq. I didn't even wear my trademark hat to minimise my foreign-ness.

After breakfast at the hotel, I went to the bank. I needed to withdraw money to pay for my tour of Kurdistan later in the week, and they only accepted cash. I wasn't sure about tipping, food costs, or any other hidden costs (think, bribes) that might be needed, so I erred on the side of pulling out a bit more than I would need. It would take three withdrawals (because of the withdrawal limit) from two different ATMs, but eventually I had 1.2 million in Iraqi currency in my pocket. I had never had 1.2 million in any currency before (or since), and it made me a bit nervous to be walking down the street with all that cash in my pocket, especially considering the ATMs were all outside on the street and anyone could have been watching me make the withdrawals and stuffing wads of cash into my pockets. I high-tailed it straight back to the hotel to unload my pockets of this admittedly-cool burden.

From there, I headed to the Citadel of Erbil. It was one of the oldest structures in the entire world. It was so old, in fact, that records from old testament times refer to the Citadel as if it had always been there. There may be some truth to that, as the archaeological record indicates occupation as far back as the Neolithic period, which was between 10,000 and 4500 BC. The citadel was (and is) known as the oldest continuously-occupied town in the world.

Unfortunately, it was closed when I was there. It was under long-term renovation and excavation, so everything related to the site was closed. Not even the onsite museums were open. This was a bit disappointing, as someone I used to know told me I should go there, because she had seen it from the sky when she was deployed to Iraq. So, instead, I decided to wander around the city center.

This was the old part of Erbil. It was nothing like the modernity I had passed on my way in from the airport. It had the old street layout where all of the businesses of a certain kind were located on one street. This was true of carpenters, pharmacies and clinics, electronics stores, markets, everything. It was like the souks of Marrakech in city form.

I noticed as I wandered the different streets that everything doubled as a repair shop, and it seemed like everything was up for repair. Game controllers, furniture, tools, you name it, everything could be fixed. And all of these places were busy. Like, really busy. It really made me think about how good we have it in the West. If my PlayStation controller were to break, I would just go buy another one. Sure, it'd be a bit expensive, but it really was no big deal. Not so here. They made everything last. If it broke, they fixed it. They didn't have a lot of extra money for new stuff all of the time, and there was always the supply issue of getting stock into a country labeled as a combat zone by the United States Government.

As I made my way towards the bazaar on the South side of the Citadel, I found myself on a wide open square decorated for Christmas (I would later learn these were the Castle Fountains and Gardens). Christmas trees, lights, even Santa Claus decorations were up. Where was I, again? Iraq? This was pretty odd to me, given that Christmas is fundamentally a Christian holiday. Despite this, the square was FULL of people. It reminded me of the city mall growing up. Teenagers were hanging out in their small gangs and old men were sitting on the benches talking and drinking tea while people went about their business at the surrounding shops. All it was lacking was the live Santa taking pictures with children. And all beneath the Citadel towering above.

Shooting off down one street was a long local market. It was packed full of people. I decided to walk down it and see what it had and how far it went. The answer was everything and forever. It had a fruits and vegetable section, phone section, meats and fish, clothes, school supplies, and more I didn't see. I walked a long way down it before deciding to turn back to the center of town. It just went on and on and on.

I noticed that there were young boys with wheel barrows selling...something all over. I didn't speak Kurdish, so I had no idea what it was, but I eventually figured it out just by watching. They were selling their services. They were offering to carry people's groceries as they shopped. I saw one older woman who had three of these boys in tow. That was when it occurred to me that I hadn't seen any homeless people anywhere. As I would later hear it put, if you don't work, you don't eat. These boys were old enough to provide some service and bring home some money, so that was what they did. On the one hand, it was a little saddening that this was the economic situation. On the other, it was a bit refreshing to see this sort of work ethic instilled in the kids.

Well, after wandering a bit, I decided to head back to the hotel. I wasn't trying to be a homebody traveler, but I still had more than a few apprehensions about being out and about in Iraq on my own as an American. At one point, I headed to a supermarket for some snacks and coffee, but that was about all I did for the day.

The next day, I decided to check out the Sami Abdulrahman Park. This was the largest public park in all of Iraq. It took me over an hour to walk there. I made the decision to walk to force myself into being outside of my comfort zone. I would take the most direct route from the hotel to prove what I already knew in my head: this was a safe area in tumultuous Iraq.

The walk to the park took me past a few important governmental landmarks. Firstly, the Iranian consulate. It certainly stood out. It was surrounded by concrete T-walls adjacent to a well-off-looking neighbourhood. It certainly felt out of place. I also walked by the Kurdish Parliament with Kurdish Democratic Party (KDP) and Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK) flags lining the street outside. These were the two main political parties in Kurdistan comprised of two factions: the Barzani and Talibani tribes. These two factions have been in long-standing political conflict over how to govern Kurdistan, with them aligning, generally, along conservative and liberal lines, respectively.

Inside the parliamentary compound was also the Ministry of Education and the Kurdish Regional Government (KRG) Council of Minister. The whole compound was surrounded by T-walls and guarded by the Asayish, the internal security and domestic intelligence organisation in Iraqi Kurdistan. There I was, a Westerner walking along a major highway to go to the largest park in Iraq, passing by a fortified government compound guarded by men with AK-47s. This may have been scary or strange to many people, but this was just how things were in this part of the world. As I've said before, there was something normal and familiar about this to me. As long as I didn't take any pictures, they would leave me alone.

In fact, I'm sure they had a fun time watching my cross eight-lane highway in front of their compound! I failed to notice the pedestrian bridge that wasn't too far away and was trying to cross at the crosswalk. As anyone who has traveled MENA will tell you, crosswalks are essentially pointless. No one stops for pedestrians. Luckily, I had been in Cairo not long before, so I was an expert at crossing busy highways like this. Eventually, you just have to commit to crossing, take two steps back to take one step forward, and understand that lanes mean nothing and use that to your advantage. After a bit of trepidation, I made it across. Let me tell you, though, that was one busy, fast-moving highway.

The park was a park. I don't want to make it out to be something it wasn't. It was like Erbil's version of New York's Central Park. Even so, it was a cool place. It turned out I had not entered at the main entrance, but was beside a memorial garden off some kind. Once I got into the actual park, which was surrounded by walls, a gate, and an armed Asayish guard, it was just like every other park, with wide-open spaces, public benches, coffee shops and cafes, and even playgrounds for the kids. I was in Iraq watching kids play at a playground while their parents sat around talking. I could have been in College Station, Texas. It was actually really nice to see in a country which has been torn apart by war after war for decades to come.

There were a couple of notable things in the park, for those who won't find themselves visiting Iraq as a tourist any time soon:

- There was a memorial to 98 individuals who were killed in terrorist attacks in February of 2004. It was a large memorial, with all of the names written in both Kurdish and Arabic. The path to the memorial wall was lined with Kurdish flags, and to rock engravings told the memorial's story in both English and Arabic.

- At Lake No. 2 (which was across a walkway from Lake No. 1), there were speed boat rides around the lake. Now, the lake wasn't very big, but this was just something for the kids to enjoy. It wasn't very expensive to take a lap around the lake, and the kids all seemed to enjoy it.

- There were signs at multiple points along both lakes that gave a list of banned activities. These including crossing the fence to swim, take photos, and "attempting suicide or other activities banned by park regulations." I found it interesting that they had to specifically list out the last one. It seemed to me that there would be many other mentionable activities that would rank higher on the list than committing suicide in the lake. The signs also made it clear that any consequences stemming from your decision to partake in these banned activities were wholly your problem and they "do not hold any legal responsibility for undesirable situation (sic)."

- On the West side of the park, there was a horseback riding ring. Of course, these horses were of the smaller breeds that Jo and I had seen in other countries. Again, this was mostly for the kids, but it was next to a café, and it was an easy place for parents and kids to get outside and enjoy the sunshine.

I wanted to get back to the hotel before nightfall, and it was quite a long ways, so after a couple of hours at the park I made my way back via a different route to see the city. These two long walks had really bolstered my confidence in getting around the city safely, and I was glad to feel my PTSD-induced anxiety coming down. By the time night rolled around, I was feeling just fine and normal.

Which was a good thing, because I would be doing a lot of walking that night. The concierge arranged a taxi for me to go to a shawarma place for dinner over by the Gulan Mall. It cost me 3000 IQD (about 2.5 USD) to get there. I tipped the driver, which really confused him. That's when I realised they don't tip there. I had macaroni and cheese with chicken shawarma, which was actually really good, for 9000 IQD, which was a bit less than 7 USD. Of course, I was calculating these based on the official rate, not the local (or, as I would call it, the black market rate). It would have been cheaper if I exchanged USD instead of withdrew money from the ATM.

After dinner, I decided to explore the Gulan Mall. I was back in the modern part of the city, and it showed. The mall was huge. It was substantially bigger than the malls in the cities where I had lived in Texas. It had all of the modern shops. From PUMA and Sketchers to jewelry shops and high-end dresses, it was like I was back at the Galleria in Dallas or the Morocco Mall in, well, Casablanca. They had also gone all out on Christmas decorations. Granted, this mall was near the large Christian community, but it was still all out. They had snowmen, Santa's sleigh, Christmas trees, reindeer, wreaths, everything. My mom loves Christmas decorations, and she knew where I was, so I took pictures of them and sent them to her 1) because I knew she'd enjoy them and 2) to show her how modern and generally safe of a place I was in.

I decided to walk back to the hotel from the mall. It was a straight shot down one road to get there along a major road, so I figured it was safe enough. Along the way, I passed more sights which showed me this wasn't the stereotypical Iraq you see on the news. Coffee shops, chocolate makers, and double decker fast food joints like Hardee's lined the streets. Eventually, the modern gave way to the older part of the city, a sign that I was nearing the hotel.

Since I was out and about already, I decided I might as well keep going and check out the Christmas decorations at the Citadel lit up. What a sight that was! The Christmas tree in the square was lit up in green, white, and red with a yellow star on top, symbolising the Kurdish flag. The hedges were draped in blue mesh lights, and on the Citadel there was a large "2024" sign lit up. People were everywhere taking selfies with the decorations and enjoying the ambience of it all. Even in a non-majority Christian place, Christmas has meaning. Family, friends, and reflecting on the year was what it was all about.

Speaking of which, that was the day after Christmas, which was when my family holds our Christmas get together, so I headed back to the hotel to do a video call with everyone. Christmas in Texas meets Christmas in Iraq. But not without the unique Iraq spin. While on the phone, the power in the hotel went out. This was a routine occurrence. I would later learn that the government only supplies electricity for so much of the day to each part of the city, and, while it wasn't predictable when it would happen, it was normal for the electricity to just go off randomly for a period of time. Fortunately, the WiFi was run off of a generator, so it stayed on. Welcome to the Middle East!

The next day, I would start my tour of Iraqi Kurdistan bright and early. I had seen about as much of Erbil as I could on my own, and was looking forward to seeing the rest of the region.

Where I Stayed: MyHotel Erbil

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