Under the light of the Moon

I stood and looked at the moon yesterday. It was about the same phase as when I left for vacation. four weeks ago. I had just had my last soft-ice. And my last shawarma.

The last soft-ice

The last shawarma

On many of my previous trips, I have wanted to make the most out of the last day. But I don't do that anymore. I have learned to let go. To accept that things come to an end. And it gives me ample time to contemplate on where I have been and what I have seen.
I looked back at the four weeks. Four different countries. I have barely scratched the surface of either, but have still felt like I have seen a lot. And they have represented deeply differnent things in their own way.
Mozambique. Previously torn by civil war. Floodings. Now a reasonably functioning country. Renamo is still active. Still fighting for their ideas. I have seen the poverty. The rich. The difference. I have heard beautiful music and eaten wonderful food. And met wonderful people.
Malawi. I have previously know very little of this country. Have heard less. I only stayed for a week. But got to see the beautiful country. The wonderful beaches of Lake Malawi. Seen the smiles of "the warm heart of Africa".
Dubai. With its exuberant wealth. Standing before a tower costing more than the GNP of several African countries combined. Walking through a shopping mall packed with fashion shops void of any price tags. "If you've got to ask, you cannot afford it." The contrast with the little girl in Tete is staggering.
Iraq. War-torn. Conflicts. Dictatorship. Friendly. Honest. Hospitable. The different nuances of this country makes it an exciting place. I have been to the peaceful part. A couple of hours drive south of here, three coordinated suicide bombings occurred in three smaller towns just a few days ago. That is what the outside world hears about. I have seen the other side. The one that we never hear about. And I like to think it makes me more sceptical about how the world is described through the media. They may not lie, but they do not tell the whole story.
So here I am. Last day in Erbil. Last day before I start the long journey home. Home to my day job. Home to my apartment. Home to parliament election. Home to friends. Home to church. Home to everyday life. And to more complaints about how much we suffer in "the worlds richest country".
I do believe that I become wiser from travelling. More knowledgable. And I wish more poeple would do just that. Learn more about people. Countries. How things are in the world. Get their heads out of their butt-holes so they can see that it's not all crap. But it is my sincere hope that my humble musings here in this blog may help those open-minded, to see more of the world they cannot travel to themselves.

Regards,
Ragnar
Globetrotter

At the edge of town

Sometimes, it is good to be reminded of where you are. I have walked around for days now. Meeting people. Greeted by them. I have felt comfortable. Safe. But I do know that not all is well in paradise. And I got a reminder of where I am yesterday. I started walking along a street out of town. I just kept on walking. Just to see where it led. A sign said towards Baghdad. I knew I wasn't going to walk that far. But I enjoyed seeing the area change. From the bustling bazaar area of the inner city around my hotel, to the more business areas in the outer. And I passed a few hotels along the way. And it hit me how some of them where heavily guarded. Guards with AK-47s. Thick steel gates. Metal detectors when entering the compounds. I realized that all of those were hotels with flags indicating they housed UN personell and/or American people. Luxurious hotels. And I know that if there was an terror-attack, they would attack these places. Nobody would attack Hotel El-Shait or Hotel Al-Dump. Because all the important people always stay in luxurious hotels. Not the backpacker shacks I normally stay in.
After a while, I passed a shopping centre. I felt the urge for some serious refluiding, so I decided to go there. I have to admit, the airconditioning was also a tempting feature... As I came to the entrance, a small sign was also a powerful reminder that I was not in Oslo. A sign that indicated "No guns allowed". It was obviously something they had to remind their customers of. And when I entered, I had to go through security. They checked my bag, and I had to go through a metal detector.

Two hours after I set out, I had reached the edges of Erbil. There were new buildings being erected further out, but I decided to stop at what would be a future intersection. An overpass had been built. And a road under construction extended to each side. Underneath, wonderful shade. People stood there selling fruits to travellers. I enjoyed the shade. A welcomed relief from the sun.
I walked up on the intersection. Looked around. Erbil is growing. Changing. It is a peaceful place in Iraq. But in a country like this, things can change. And the security I have seen, may be necessary for a long time. Maybe forever. But it is my hope it does not change the people.

New buildings at the edge of Erbil

Fruit seller

Street art in Erbil

More street art

Ad for a shopping center in Bergen, Norway...

Welcome down into Erbil city, where the sun is hot and the girls are pretty

After checking out from my first hotel, I started looking for a new place to stay. I had checked out hotels before I left, and found one that sound promising. It was located in Bata Street. I had no idea where it was. The porter of the hotel gave me the general direction. "You could take a taxi. But it is also good to walk!" I couldn't agree more. I thanked him and was on my way. The sun was hot. Very hot. I have just spent a few weeks in relative cold, so my body wasn't ready for it. But this is how I adjust. I spend many hours out of the comfort zone. Sweating my shirt soaking. After a while, the body gets the message, and I can move normally without turing into a pool of water on the sidewalk. I walked around for almost an hour before I followed a hunch, and lo and behold. The hotel suddenly stood right in front of me. I walked up the steep stairs and met a guy who spoke about 5 words of English. But he understood what I wanted. At least I think he did. They had no vacancies. Figures. This was supposedly the best of the cheapies. So I walked across the street and that hotel had a vacancy. So I checked in, emptied my bag of all non-essential stuff, and went out into the baking oven again. It was 40 in the shade. But precious little shade.
I found that the hotel was right beside one of the sights I wanted to see in Erbil. The citadel. The original part of Erbil. It is said to be the oldest city in the world. They are doing some excavations at the site, so we will probably know soon. I walked up to the entrance nearest the hotel, but was stopped by a guard. "No entry! Construct!". I saw a sign saying I had to go to the north entrance. No problem. I walked around the city walls. On my way, I saw a sign I wanted to take a photo of. I picked up my camera and took a picture. Suddenly, a police officer came up to me and put his hand out. I looked at him for a second and thought maybe he wanted to see the photo I had just taken. Some places, people are seriously paranoid about foreigners taking photos. So I started preparing to show him when he slapped his hands together. "Ah! I'm sorry!" I said and laughed. He laughed too. He just wanted me to shake his hand. I did. He opened up a broad smile. "Salaam my friend! Where are you from?" "Norway!" "Ah! Welcome to Iraqi Kurdistan! You work here?" "No I'm a tourist!" "Ah! Tourist! Welcome!" Another officer came by and said something about "Radio!". He picked up his radio and changed the frequency. Some policecars stopped nearby. "Ok! You can go now!" he said to me. I think what he meant was "You should go now!". I found it best to leave the area. I have no idea what it was about. So I just continued towards the north entrance. I passed a booth with a guy sitting there. "Sir!" he said and waved me back. "Your name please!" he asked. I said my name and my nationality and he wrote it down in a book. "Thank you! Please enter! Have a nice day!". I walked up the steep road up to the citadel. It was obvious that the temperature was getting to me. I was short of breath and I felt like I had never moved for the past five years. I had to stop to catch my breath before entering the citadel itself. I always find it interseting to see old cities like this. My imagination runs wild. I can sit for hours trying to imaging what it must have been like to live there. What people who saw it might have thought. This heavily fortified city on a hill. Impenetrable. With tall, thick walls. Unfortunately, I was unable to do so here. Most of the site was off limits to visitors due to reconstruction and excavations. So I could only walk the main street. And even then I was stopped from going the length of it, by a guard who politely told me that the street was closed of "Due to construct!" So I just took a few photos here and there and walked down again. A bit disappointed, I have to admit. But now I was getting seriously warm, and I could feel my body was drained of fluids. So I picked up a bottle of water and a can of coke from a guy on the street. I drank it all in one go. Now I started looking for a place to change some money. I found one spot where they had pictures of all the important currencies of the world. Dollars, British pounds, Euros and Norwegian Krone. I had to smile. Among the few selected notes they had on display, was a Norwegian 1000-kroner note. I took out $150 and got 180 000 Iraqi dinars in return. Stashed them into my side-pocket. Feeling rich. I walked through the bazaar. I love bazaars. I'm not the shopaholic type. But I guess if I was, this would be a vertitable mecca. But to me, it's just an incredible place to watch people. And all the things they sell. And how they sell. I read somewhere that shopping here is supposed to be a fair deal. There is no "special price for you". They give you the price they expect and that's it. No haggling. No back and forth. Just a price. And they give foreigners the same price as locals. No difference. And here's a new for me : Many places I've been, nobody has change. That's not such a problem here, but I have had a few encounters where the seller didn't have the correct change. And then I found something extraordinary that I have never seen before. The seller makes sure that the change I do get, is in MY favor. He actually accepts a loss because he accepts that it is his problem, not mine. I was a bit surprised the first time it happened. But now I see that it is common.
After many hours of walking, I decided to check out the many food stalls around. I wanted to try the local shawarma. I found one place and ordered one. The shop had many chairs standing by the wall. I sat down on one and sunk my teeth into the delicious freshbaked bread with juicy meat. Ah! After a long day, it was time to retire into my room. I had switched the aircon to 28 degrees. It actually felt a bit cold. But wonderful.
Today I continued my adapting to the local climate. I visited a park about half an hours walk from my hotel. And also checked out a couple of software shops. "If it exists, we have copied it". One of the shops, the proprietor spoke English reasonably well.
"You speak kurdish?"
"No, I'm sorry. Only English!"
"No problem! How long you work here?"
"I don't work here. I'm just a tourist."
"Ah! Welcome to Iraqi Kurdistan! Why you don't work here?"
"Because I have a good job back home."
"Where are you from?"
"Norway!"
"Ah! You must come and work here. Very good!"
"Nah! I like my home country."
"Ok! You are welcome here!"
I thanked him and left. I have to say that I found the hospitablility here rather awesome. People come up to me every now and then, shake my hand and welcomes me to their country. Makes me wish I knew some kurdish, or arabic, so I could've spoken more with them.
And I don't think I've been anywhere where the sheer precentage of pretty women are so high as here. In the first hotel I stayed in, when I came for breakfast, this incredibly stunning beauty entered the restaurant. With her mother. I would have said "hi!" if it weren't for her mother looking like she would tear my heart out and force-feed it to me on toast if I even smiled at her daughter. So I minded my own business and had breakfast. Stealing some glimpses every now and then. She saw it and smiled. But just walking down the street, I see beauties all the time here. Sigh! I admit it, I like to look at them. In China, I learned that the Chinese word for beautiful really meant "easy to look at". And I guess that is a fitting description.
Another good thing here is the soft-ice. Ah! The soft-ice. It is so delicious it is unbelievable. I could have lived off that alone. 40 cents will buy you a cone with this soft delight. It melts in minutes. But that's no problem. It is gone long before.
So there it is. My first couple of days in Iraq. I'm loving it!
Some pictures from my walks around the city.

View of the citadel from the city

View of Erbil from the Citadel

Easy to see why they didn't want me to enter

Some self-refelcting

I asked if I could take a picture, he said "sure!" Cool police-car

And the ones they are chasing...

And one of those they don't...

All the important currencies, including Norwegian Kroner...

Really? They have a branch here?

One night in Baghdad? Naaah! Maybe some other time.

Some images from the Minare Park. It had several niceely cut bushes and a row of statues of people I have no idea who are. 

Local powerstation. An large engine roared inside, and a million
wires going out.

Inside the bazaar next to my hotel. If they don't have it, you don't need it.

The places beyond

A friend of mine bought me a sign for my last birthday. He said that when he saw the sign, he thought of me. It read "Old enough to know better, young enough to do it anyway." And I guess he is right. It is who I am. I know better, but sometimes, I do it anyway. I have heard that I am crazy. And maybe I am. But I think it is the good kind of crazy. The "dangling out of the plane harnessed to a guy with a parachute and thinking 'I'm gonna DIIIIIIIEeeeee....'"-kind of crazy. Not the bad "Ooooo. That lion looks like he wants to play. Take a picture of me when I tug it's tail!"-kind of crazy. I do stuff that is semi-safe but might seem or feel quite the opposite.
I wanted to go to Afghanistan. Yup. Ever since I saw a sign in a window in Oslo for plane tickets to Kabul. I texted a friend, and he replied "Go for it!". I read up on places and security in Afghanistan, and found that Herat in the west was relatively safe. Before the summer, I booked the flight from Dubai to Herat. Then I went to the Afghan Embassy in Oslo to apply for a visa. The guy behind the counter took my application, browsed through it, and asked : "Why do you want to go to Afghanistan?" "I want to go there as a tourist." I said. He laughed. "No one goes to Afghanistan as a tourist!" he said and handed me back my application forms. He wrote down the phone-number of the head of the consular section. "Talk to her!" he said. I left the embassy and took the tram to work. I called the number, and she told me that the only way I would get a visa approved was if I could get an invitation from either the Norwegian Embassy in Kabul, or from an NGO. I sent an e-mail to the embassy in Kabul. A few hours later I got a reply with a defintive "NO!" spelled out in diplomatese. They also (in diplomatese of course) told me the only ones who wanted to come to Afghanistan as tourists, were either suicidal, certifiably crazy, flipping anti-psychotic drugs as if they where tic-tacs or most likely a combination of the three. So in the end, I felt like I had been bitch-slapped with red-tape. I gave up. If I was meant to go to Afghanistan, it would have happened. But it didn't. So I cancelled the flight and the hotel in Herat.
A few days before I left, I talked to a guy who works at the place I work. He told me that he had recently been in Erbil in northern Iraq. I asked him if that wasn't dangerous. "No! Erbil is fine. Southern Iraq is crazy, but north is fine. If it wasn't for my wife refusing to move, I would have moved back a long time ago. With Norwegian passport, you don't even need a visa. I checked with the department of foreign affairs, and it was correct. I checked flights, and they were available. My heart raced. YES! I didn't have to stay in Dubai, or go to some other place in the region. I could go to Iraq!
So here I am. Erbil. A couple of hundred kilometres north of Baghdad.
A little summary of my getting here from Malawi :
I got up reaconably late. Didn't have to stress since my plane wasnt leaving until after one anyway. I had met Sigrid's usual taxi-driver the night before in the reception and agreed upon him coming to get me at 9 to drive me to the airport. He was at athe hotel all morning waiting on me. I had a big breakfast, which mostly consisted of delicious sausages and bacon. Wanted to fuel up on proteins.
We left at nine and headed for the Lilongwe international airport. It was half an hour drive out of town. The airport was small. And there were only a few flights a day. And it seemed like they all departed almost at the same time. When I arrived I had to go through a security check at the entrance of the building. Three guys stood there with a roller-board and a metal-detector. They ordered me to put my bag and stuff on the board, and walk through the metal-detector. It screamed like a hungry baby. I stopped, expecting them to ask for a more thorough search. Instead they said "OK!", and let me go... At checkin I asked the girl behind the counter if I could get window seat on the right hand side of the plane (opposite the sunny side). She said "of course" and gave me one boarding pass with window seat for the left hand side, and one for an isle seat in the middle section... I had been told I would have to pay departure tax, but that was wrong. They just stamped my passport and let me through. Upstairs, there was the usual "tax-free"-shops. I went into one and bought a coke. I drank some, and wondered why there was such a smell of white-spirit. Then I realized it was from the coke. They had probably "cleaned" it.. I threw it in a waste basket. I probabøy should have complained and gotten a new one, but I didn't bother.
At the airport was also a group of Norwegian scouts that had been at a jamboree in Malawi. I had actually seen them on tv a few days before, but they told me that they had been sitting underneath the Swedish flag I saw (and thus assumed they were Swedes...).
Boarding time! We all got on a bus that drove us the 200 yards to the airplane. We all got onboard and were told we were stopping in Blantyre on the way. I knew that this might happen. 30 minutes in the air. I sat there wondering who would bother. It took 4 hours by bus, and you would save maybe 1/2 hour going by plane. It turned out that about half the plane bothered. They got off at Blantyre...

After a long break in Blantyre, the airplane had been refueled and repackaged with new passangers entering, and we were off to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The inflight-movie was a surfing-movie from the late sixties, it looked like. And it was run in loop mode, so they showed it again and again. Other than that, not much happening. So I thought I'd just try to rest as much as possible. I knew I would land in Dubai very early in the morning, so no chance of sleeping much there.
The trip to Dubai was event-less. There was a better selection of inflight entertainment, but I needed some sleep, so I ignored watching any of them. I actually managed to sleep about an hour.
We arrived in Dubai, and I decided I didn't want to stay in the airport for 18 hours, so I went through passport control. I was tired, and it showed. Two guys were sitting in the booth. One took my passport and checked it. The other asked me "How do you feel, sir?". "Sleepy!" I replied. He smiled and asked me where I had come from. I told him my journey so far. They stamped my passport, and I could go into town. I found the usual million taxis, but I saw something I liked better. "Dubai metro!" Yes! Who wants to settle for a boring taxi-ride when you can explore with the metro! I found that it was closed. But only until sunrise. So I settled in a chair, and fell asleep for about half an hour. Woke up with a sore neck. The metro finally opened, and I bought a return ticket to something that looked interesting "Dubai Internet City". I expected it to be a mecca for technology and with shops brimming with gadgets and such. So it was with great expectations I disembarked the train and went out to be greeted by scorching hot air. My first thought when looking around was "where's the tumble-weed?". The area was dead. And dead quiet. I thought maybe it was because it was 7 in the morning. So I wandered around to see if I could find the interesting shops or something. But much to my disappointment, I found that the only thing this place had in common with internet, was the word "virtual". There was "virtually" nothing there. All I could find, were food shops, hotels and laundry services. I walked around for almost an hour before I gave up trying to find something to do with technology.
I walked back to the metro, and asked the lady behind the counter for a day-pass to the metro, so I could travel around the city for more interesting stuff. I saw that we passed the Burj Khalifa on the way (tallest building in the world). I took the metro there, and found that they had made a half km long, airconditioned walkway to the Dubai Mall, which was right beside the Burj Khalifa. So I stood there on one rolling pathway after the next, until I finally arrived at the mall.

It was still early in the morning, so no shops were open. I decided to go the Burj first. I found the exit at the ground floor. And was once again hugged by the almost 40 degree heat. I could feel some sweat coming. In To the right, The Burj Khalifa tower stretched up. Far up. 828 meters tall. Almost twice the Sears tower in Chicago. I tried to find the entrance to get up to an observation deck, which I assumed it had for tourists. After half an hour, I finally found one entrance, but it was for cars. A security guard came out of his booth and asked me what I wanted. I told him, and he said I could buy tickets at the mall... Thank you!

The giant

Sweaty version of me and the tower

I remembered that when looking for the exit, I had seen signs in the mall that read "To the top, Burj Khalifa", but when I arrived, it looked like a cafe, so I assumed it was. But it turned out to be a ticket booth for going up to the observation deck. And it had an airconditioned underground walkway to the tower... Oh, well. I got some nice pictures. I paid the 125 dirhams and walked to the elevator. It took us 124 stories up. I had to pop my ears a few times on the way up. Then we walked out into a small hallway that led to some doors to the observation deck. Which was basically a terrass 452 meters above the ground. Bith openings so you could look over the edge. I was a bit surprised at this, given that some mischiefous people might throw something over the edge. A coin would probably be lethal if thrown. But I got some nice pictures. I must admit I was disappointed. I had been to the sky-tree in Tokyo, and the observation deck was at 450 meters. I looked up here, and saw that they could have put the observation deck much higher up. Maybe 1-200 metres higher. So it was the highest I have been in a building, but only by 2 metres...

Tower af Babylon?

Tom Cruise was here!

And this is where he was "hanging"

View of Dubai Mall to the left.

In the shadow if a giant

Disappointingly low

After I was satisfied, I want down the elevator again and back to the mall. I had to admit it was wonderful to stay there in the aircon. Lots of gadget shops around. And a beautiful open aquarium in one of the corners. With a gigantic glass wall. They had sharks, rays and lots of small and BIG fish. The biggest about 1 metre long. I loved it. But in the end, I almost fell asleep. I sat texting a friend, and fell asleep between the words. I woke up to find I had scribbled something totaly incomprensible. So it took me the better part of 5 minutes to complete a short text.
At around 4 I walked back to the metro and headed for the airport. I found that I had to go to Terminal 2 to catch my flight. I looked for terminal 2, but no metro, no shuttle buses. Nothing. I asked around and everybody told me I had to take a taxi there. Strange. I took a taxi. Or, a guy with a car. It was far from official. He probably overcharged me. I dunno. Too tired to care. Terminal 2 was noisy and packed with people. I found that I had to wait in the hall for three hours before I could check in. There was an alarm screaming from a door of some kind, and they spent the best part of one hour to stop it. I finally could get into he queue to check in. As I was nearing the checkin counter. I noticed one after the other of the checkin booths closed. One local guy started commenting loudly. When it was my turn, all booths were empty. The local dude started shouting and screaming at a guy, who obviously were trying to explain what was going on. In the end, one girl came and sat in one of the booths. I was allowed to check in. "Mister Ass?" she asked. "Aas, like in Awesome!" I said. "Ah!" she said and laughed. I explained about the special Norwegian character. "I am so sorry. I will sleep tonight being a little less stupid!" she said and smiled. I went through passport control and security and walked to the gate. After a few minutes, and American guy came up to me and started talking. It took me about two seconds to figure out he was drunk as a sailor. He was going to Erbil to "drill some holes in the ground" (looking for oil). And he went on talking about how the "niggers were destroying America", and other "issues". Life has tought me never to argue with drunk people, so I just stood there listening to his rants. The plane ended up being very late. There had been a technical issue with the first, so they swapped planes. It turned out that this was going to be one of the most eventful flights I have experienced.
The flight attendants were trying their best to get people to sit down and to listen to them when they were giving directions and orders. Nobody listened. Nobody seemed to care. Just before takeoff, an old lady got out of her chair to get something from the overhead locker. The flight attendant tried in both English and the local toungue to get her to sit down, but she ignored both. In the end the attendant got up and walked quickly (and obviously angry) back to her and told her to "SIT DOWN!". The old lady argued with her for a few seconds before she settled in her seat. Just as the plane took off, the unmistakable sound of "Nokia" rang through the cabin. A few seconds later, a guy behind me answered his phone... After a while I fell asleep. Woke up just before we arrived. Several people was standing up or walking around when the attendant tried to get them to sit down. "The captain has switched on the seat-belt sign because of heavy turbulence. So please return to your seat. Nobody listened. After several attempts, they finally sat down. But as the plane was about to land, an old lady behind me got up. Obviously to be first at the exit. The flight attendant almost screamed into the PA. "SIT! DOWN! NOW!". The guy next to her pleaded with her, and with loud arguments, she finally sat down and let him fasten her seat belt. Just in time for touch down. And just like at takeoff, the same phone rang again. Some guy said something about "captain". And he was obviously arguing with the guy about his phone being on. But he just waved him off and answered. I looked at the attendant, and it was obvious she was stressed out and MAD! When the captain finally switched off the seat-belt sign, everybody jumped out of their seats. The old lady behind me elbowed her way through, shouting at people. Obviously to get out first. I just had to smile at the whole thing. Poor attendant!
We got into the terminal building and I walked through passport control. Got my 15 day visa and went to look for a taxi. No taxis but a shuttle bus. It took us to another terminal where we had to go through "Arrival". Have no idea what that was all about. But on the other side where taxis. I found an older guy who had a "taxi". More precisely a car parked in the car park. It was a great car. SUV. The guy didn't speak much English. We agreed on 15 000 for the trip. He drove fast. Very fast. Obviously to get there before some accident happened. He even zoomed past a police car on emergency call. With lights flashing and all... The police obviously didn't care. We finally arrived at the street my hotel was. It was pakced with men sitting around drinking chai and smoking water pipes. The hotel was amazing. I just have to say that. It was truly one of the best rooms I have ever stayed in. Gigantic, with 180 degree panorama view. Wall to wall carpeting. 130 channels of crap on the tv to choose from (mostly channels starting with "Al"-something. I didn't find Al-Qaida...) Nice tiled bathroom and a very friendly and helpful staff. It cost the same as my room in Catembe in Mozambique, but is lightyears away in quality. I have absolutely NO problem paying the price for this one. Everything works. The staff is knowledgable and very service minded. The breakfast was on the seventh floor. With amazing views of the whole city.

My hotel room. With conference group and all.

Wonderful clean, and WORKING bathroom

So here I am, in my airconditioned room. I am checking out at noon. But I want to enjoy it as much as possible before I head out to more "down to earth" accomodation on more of a backpacker budget. I have read about what is supposedly the best of the cheapo's. I will check it out after I have checked out from here. I am actually seriously contemplating staying here the last night before I leave. It would be nice to spend the last night in such a place. I have to admit that much.
What am I going to do here in Iraq? I don't know. I decided to go here a few days before my vacation started, so I really haven't had the time to check it out much. But I have found a few spots around Erbil I want to check out. So we will see when the time comes, what happens.