I woke up Wednesday morning in Dohuk and prepped for a day exploring. There is very little information for travelers in Kurdistan and so I didn’t have a really have a game plan. See where the wind takes me was the baseline strategy.
Sitting in the hotel reception there was another foreigner. We got to talking and ended up spending the day together checking out villages in the countryside. The only real transport options in Kurdistan are shared taxis so having a buddy to share costs is a great bonus to help manage costs.
The following day we drove from Dohuk to Erbil; Iraqi Kurdistan’s biggest city.
After settling into a hotel, we set out to explore the city’s main attraction, the Citadel – a fort-like castle at the heart of the desert city. We wandered around and followed a guided tourist group into a restricted section of the site. Entrance offered some neat views over the city – helpful in orienting ourselves.
Before we entered, we were approached by two young locals. The teenagers were visiting from Baghdad and were eager to chat. They spoke excellent English, complete with euphemisms and all.
We ended up spending the evening cruising the citadel, the bazaar and some parks with these two in tow.
I will admit that I wasn’t so keen on entertaining them at first, but in the end I really their company.
They spoke of the unrest in Arab Iraq (including Baghdad), the rampant religious persecution of non-Sunni Muslim minorities and their desire to emigrate from Iraq.
The topic of emigration maybe shouldn’t come as a big surprise. I think anyone would choose the peaceful streets of Vancouver over the turmoil of Baghdad. Of note though, it seemed more genuine and serious during my interactions in Iraq than I had experienced in other parts of the world.
Listening to them, their respective desires to leave Iraq was underpinned by a lack of pride in their country. This fact caused me to stop and think.
During past travel adventures, I have grown accustomed to the local people’s fierce pride in their country irrespective of their situation. Sure, they might be critical at about the government or certain policies, but in general most people I have met, not matter how poor or rich, powerful or fringe, are happy to identify as a Thai, Guatemalan, Moroccan, Nepalese, etc. Even people who have emigrated to Europe or North American tend to retain a sense of pride in their birthplace.
Neither of these two were proud to be Iraqi. I found this tough to grasp. Iraq is the cradle of civilizations. It is blessed by the legendary Tigris and Euphrates rivers that nourished Mesopotamia. Indeed, archeological remnants cement this region’s crucial role in the history of human evolution. They conceded that this was cool, but not enough for them. It took some convincing, but by the evening I accepted their position. Maybe if I witnessed murders in the streets on a monthly basis I wouldn’t be overly intrigued with my homelands ancient claims to fame either…
The evening reinforced how fortunate I am to be Canadian and live in a peaceful nation.
At the end of the evening, finding a beer to sip was next to impossible so we had a different type of night cap - barbequed sheep testicle. The boys weren’t too keen, but eventually each of us choked at least one portion down.
Sitting in the hotel reception there was another foreigner. We got to talking and ended up spending the day together checking out villages in the countryside. The only real transport options in Kurdistan are shared taxis so having a buddy to share costs is a great bonus to help manage costs.
The following day we drove from Dohuk to Erbil; Iraqi Kurdistan’s biggest city.
After settling into a hotel, we set out to explore the city’s main attraction, the Citadel – a fort-like castle at the heart of the desert city. We wandered around and followed a guided tourist group into a restricted section of the site. Entrance offered some neat views over the city – helpful in orienting ourselves.
Before we entered, we were approached by two young locals. The teenagers were visiting from Baghdad and were eager to chat. They spoke excellent English, complete with euphemisms and all.
We ended up spending the evening cruising the citadel, the bazaar and some parks with these two in tow.
I will admit that I wasn’t so keen on entertaining them at first, but in the end I really their company.
They spoke of the unrest in Arab Iraq (including Baghdad), the rampant religious persecution of non-Sunni Muslim minorities and their desire to emigrate from Iraq.
The topic of emigration maybe shouldn’t come as a big surprise. I think anyone would choose the peaceful streets of Vancouver over the turmoil of Baghdad. Of note though, it seemed more genuine and serious during my interactions in Iraq than I had experienced in other parts of the world.
Listening to them, their respective desires to leave Iraq was underpinned by a lack of pride in their country. This fact caused me to stop and think.
During past travel adventures, I have grown accustomed to the local people’s fierce pride in their country irrespective of their situation. Sure, they might be critical at about the government or certain policies, but in general most people I have met, not matter how poor or rich, powerful or fringe, are happy to identify as a Thai, Guatemalan, Moroccan, Nepalese, etc. Even people who have emigrated to Europe or North American tend to retain a sense of pride in their birthplace.
Neither of these two were proud to be Iraqi. I found this tough to grasp. Iraq is the cradle of civilizations. It is blessed by the legendary Tigris and Euphrates rivers that nourished Mesopotamia. Indeed, archeological remnants cement this region’s crucial role in the history of human evolution. They conceded that this was cool, but not enough for them. It took some convincing, but by the evening I accepted their position. Maybe if I witnessed murders in the streets on a monthly basis I wouldn’t be overly intrigued with my homelands ancient claims to fame either…
The evening reinforced how fortunate I am to be Canadian and live in a peaceful nation.
At the end of the evening, finding a beer to sip was next to impossible so we had a different type of night cap - barbequed sheep testicle. The boys weren’t too keen, but eventually each of us choked at least one portion down.