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Around the World 2022 Asia Bangladesh

Foiled plans on a Pleasant day in Dhaka

My third day in Dhaka, a Thursday, was originally to be the one where I would travel outside of the city to see Sonargaon. I had planned to go on that day and researched the bus routes, but as it turns out, those sites are closed on Thursdays (not that this information was available anywhere online that I found). So I moved my planned trip to Friday and decided to spend Thursday visiting various museums on foot. The thing is, they were also closed on Thursdays, a fact that was also not communicated online or anywhere outside of the signs on the museum doors. So I didn’t see any museums in Dhaka, but I did enjoy walking to them. Being flexible and easy going manages to keep me pretty content while travelling. (If only I could import more of that easy going nature into my non-travel life.)

The excitement of the city streets that I experienced on my first day was still there, so I was happy to be out and about. I felt free and happy as I walked from my hotel according to the route I had chosen. I bought some sweet lentil ball snacks from a little bakery and tea from a tea stall and had a little snack in the shade under the trees.

I walked first towards the Bangladeshi parliament building, Jatiya Sangsad Bhaban, designed by Louis Khan and built between 1961 and 1982. I knew I wouldn’t be able to enter the grounds, but I wanted to get a closer look from the gate. It is this super modern, quasi brutalist structure that seems totally out of keeping with anything one would imagine about Bangladesh. It looks like it should be in a Soviet country.

I walked around it, taking shelter under some thickly leafed trees (along with everyone else) during a short but powerful downpour. I then crossed the street and walked through a park where locals were strolling and relaxing under the trees or diving off the bridge into the small river below.

I walked to the various museums that I would not be able to visit.

Foiled, I walked to the New Market and wandered around there for a while, which was pleasant. I walked across an overpass where I got a terrific view of the exhilarating chaos of the market area outside the market.

I saw some new things, including horses pulling carriages covered in mirrors and jewels. I assumed they were for weddings or something ceremonial, but I found out that they are part of the regular public transportation system. Like you can take a bus, a taxi, a tuk tuk, a rickshaw, or a jeweled carriage. Like Cinderella. I tried to take pictures, but couldn’t get any good ones.

One is rewarded for walking in Dhaka; rewarded with little things that might be missed if on your phone in a rickshaw or whizzing by in a vehicle. I saw a monument that was basically a giant machine gun, endless portraits of, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the country’s first prime minister (for less than a year, as he was assassinated in a coup in 1975), a monument to rickshaw pullers, kids playing cricket, cute cafés, and some sort of … Siamese twin dog? I’m still not sure about that last one. I saw a dog – or two dogs – but they were definitely physically connected at the hips and had suffered some serious physically trauma to their back(s). It was really weird and disturbing, but I like weird, and I wouldn’t have seen these things if I wasn’t wandering aimlessly.

All of this walking (and it was a lot, like over 20 km that day), took up most of the day. I walked back to Ambrosia guest house where I was staying and had a cigar in the garden before heading out for dinner in the area at a restaurant that was upstairs. I forget the name, but it had leafy patios going up and up, like a tree house. There evening air was so pleasant after the heat of the day.

I slept soundly with plans for my actual visit to Sonargaon, transpiring in the morning.

Around the World 2022 Asia Bangladesh

A Day in Dhaka

For my second day in Dhaka, Bangladesh I had hired a guide. It seemed unnecessary, in a way. On my first day I had seen and experienced so much and satisfies myself that Dhaka is perfectly fine to explore solo, but it turned out to be a great idea. Having a guide met me get a little deeper into Dhaka, to see things I wouldn’t have found on my own, and it was nice to have the company.

I booked the tour through Bangladesh Eco Adventure and had Afridi as my guide. He was great, as was the tour. I was so happy that he didn’t pick me up in a car. We started out on foot from my guesthouse and hopped in a tuk tuk to get to the market during the busy market.

Tuk Tuks

The tuk tuks in Dhaka are a little different. First of all, they call them CNGs, which stands for compressed natural gas. Unlike the colorful tuk tuks of SE Asia, or Dhaka’s blinged out rickshaw, they are a stately grey. The most notable thing though is that they have cages. When you get in the back there is a metal cage separating you from the driver, and there are cages on the sides, which are locked from the outside. So it is like a little deathtrap. (You can unlock the doors yourself from the inside if you slip your fingers through the cage, so you aren’t entirely confined.) As with tuk tuks everywhere, haggling pre-journey is essential.

Kawran Bazaar

We snaked and jerked through the traffic to the Kawran Bazaar market. And what a market! So lively and crowded, busy and colorful. Piles of produce, sacks of spices, stalls of house wares, labyrinths of raw meat. It was terrific. Men with huge, flat baskets carried fruits and vegetables, apparently acting as porters or personal shoppers for wealthier residents.

Afridi took me into the dark corridors at the heart of the market, where the lighting is uniformly green, to hide imperfect limes and squash. There were bricks of amber colored sugar and mandalas of tobacco leaves. Deeper inside were freshly beheaded goats, still leaking blood onto the floor, and blacksmith areas, where young men beat white hot molten metal into knives.

We also walked through the areas where many of the vendors live, at least during market days. Tiny bunks separated with tarps and repurposed rice sacks. From the roof we got a view over the market.

Alongside the market were train tracks, also busy with less organized commerce.

*me, on the wrong side of the tracks in Dhaka*

Dhaka University

From the market we caught another tuk tuk to the University, which was an impressible Mughal structure surrounded by a green respite. We walked around the grounds and had a bite to eat (lentils and rice) at the outdoor cafeteria. We mostly looked at the art department where there were rows of busts, sculpted by the students, graded, and then mostly left out amongst the gardens. Afridi said this is partly to do with the ban on Muslims making art depicting the human form. It was a lovely spot.

*University lunch spot & mobile libraries*

*me in front of a particularly colourful mural at the University*

Back to the Old City

We took a tuk tuk to the old city, where I had been the day before, but we stopped for local tea from a street stall and drank it in the courtyard of the policeman’s barracks.

*Tea time. Weirdly, served in a “Canada” mug.*

We visited the famous “Star Mosque”, which is beautiful but was under construction, so I didn’t see it in all of its glory. It is amazing the stunning and small mosques hidden in the ramshackle Old City streets.

*A view of the Star Mosque. Not visible are the many stars.*

To the River

We then walked to the river’s edge, near where I had been before, but this time, I got to go out on a boat. It was a comfortable, relatively small, flat-bottom boat paddled by a single boatman.

We floated along the river past commuter boats and ships. It was heavenly. There was a perfect breeze and was quiet and relaxing. The boat ride also took us past factories – the sort that make those cheap, disposable clothes and that both provide jobs and subject workers to horrible conditions. Yeah, those.

All along the river people went about their business and enjoyed the weather. I saw two very little girls standing on the end of a boat, holding up in front of then a small piece of torn cardboard; they repeatedly posed and smiled at it – pretending to take selfies.

The Ship Yards

We docked on the other side of the river and hopped out to explore the shipyards where enormous commercial ships were being repaired and painted. To look for defects or thin spot in the metal, men pounded on the ships’ hulls with hammers, creating a loud cacophony.

We also saw people making enormous propellors by digging the mould into the dirt and then pouring molten metal into it. Once cooled, they smoothed off the rough spots. All of this done without any protective gear of course. Most men wore sandals.

Back on the boat, we went to the other side and had lunch at a local spot near the courthouse where I met several barristers on break. Once I mentioned I was a lawyer the conversation turned to work before I naturally flowed into a chat about Islamic black magic and horror movies.

Wrapping up (and a few more photos)

It was an excellent day that left me exhausted and full.

My first two days in Dhaka had both exceeded my expectations. Not every place can do that. I went to bed excited for day three, where I had almost nothing planned.

Around the World 2022 Asia Bangladesh

Discovering Dhaka, Bangladesh

I like cities, better than nature if I am being honest. Sometimes when I pick a city to visit it is because it has something specific I want to see, but sometimes I am just curious about a city itself. Dhaka, Bangladesh was one of those cities. I had little on a list of ‘sites’ to see in Dhaka; it was just the city itself that appealed. Everything I read about it suggested it would be either a lively chaos or a miserable cesspool. (Seriously, most people had nothing but negative things to say about it.) Either way, I knew it would be interesting. I’ll just say now, I loved it. I loved it instantly and throughout.

It started the moment I stepped out of the airport, having flown there from Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. People crowded, shouting, pushing perilous towers of beaten-up luggage, cars bumper-to-bumper, instant heat and smells of people and exhaust and perfume. Terrific.

I got a taxi to take me to my accommodation. Dhaka is notorious for its traffic, and we did spend a little time crawling along, but I didn’t mind because everything was exciting. The overcrowded buses that looked like they had been through 50 years of bad driving, the tuk tuks, bicycles, rickshaws, and trucks, all jockeying for position. I’m sure that if I lived there, I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic, but as a new arrival, everything seemed new and thrilling.

And then we pulled up to the high gate of my accommodation: the Ambrosia Guest House. I can confidently say I would not stay anywhere else in Dhaka. There are no hostels to speak of and most of the budget hotels look grim. The fancy hotels look generic and are in a dull part of town, but this Guest House is in a perfect location for a walker like me, just off a main road but slightly tucked away with a beautiful garden oasis. I had a big private room, use of the common areas, and enjoyed breakfast each morning with the other guests. In the evenings, I had a cigar in the garden.

But I didn’t travel to Dhaka to luxuriate in gardens. So out I went.

The streets in Dhaka are wonderful madness. Endless traffic with a parade of colourful rickshaws, creating a cheerful din of handlebar bells. Old, repurposed, red double-decker buses from the UK. The regular city buses, so beaten up but painted with colourful patterns and sometimes with whimsical hearts or birds. And of course, bicycles, tuk tuks, and people on foot, like me, all moving together. It is chaos, but it works.

Everything is loud, from the voices to the horns and bells, to announcements made over loudspeakers about, presumably, things for sale at the central market.

It is colourful. Not just the buses, but the people, many dressed in bright local or traditional clothing, stalls selling fresh flowers, businesses covered in a riot of multicoloured signage that can only come from a lack of regulation.

Nothing is orderly or slow. It is all terrific and exhilarating.

I walked for a bit, stopping for coffees or teas. I wandered through book stalls and shops at the market and meandered around taking it all in.

I then hailed a rickshaw to take me to the edge of Old Dhaka. That was fun. I discovered later that I paid about 10x more than I should have, but the price I paid was still like $3 cdn, so it was cheap – especially since I was paying for a slightly-built human being to pull me by the power of his own cycling whilst I rode in my sparkly rickshaw seat like a king.

I was dropped off at the Dhakeshwari Temple, a candy-coloured Hindu temple. I can’t tell you much about it, but it was busy with worshippers and had altars of slightly fearsome, slightly comedic looking gods.

From there, I wandered towards the Lalbagh Fort. It wasn’t difficult to find. Buildings in Old Dhaka are not that tall and eventually I saw the walls and the tops of the fort ahead of me. The entrance fee was negligible and well worth it. The fort structures inside are fine. A bit like the Red Fort in Delhi or the Lahore Fort in Lahore, but much smaller. The real treat are the grounds, lovely expanses of green with beautiful flowers.

It was all locals (and me) inside, everyone enjoying the serenity. It was there though that I discovered the Bangladeshis’ fondness for selfies. I couldn’t go a few feet without being asked to take selfies with people. One person asked me to hold their baby for the photo. (I declined that. I’ve never held a baby in my life and was not to start with a stranger’s child.) Eventually I had to start declining the selfies or I would never get where I was going. People asked me where I was from and, smiling, wished me happy travels in Bangladesh. Both the selfies and friendly greetings happened everywhere. Even people that spoke very little English would manage to ask me where I was from and say, “thank you”.

From there I visited the Armenian church, a pretty buttercream and yellow church surrounded by trees. I was let in by the caretaker who unlocked it and was happy to show me around. (All my pictures were lousy, but it is worth visiting.)

I stepped out of the church and was trying to decide which direction to walk next, when a young man approached me. He spoke English and asked me where I was from and if I was lost. I explained I was just looking around and he suggested I walk to the river and told me the way. He gave me his business card and said that if I needed anything, to contact him. That too was not the only time that kind of hospitality happened.

I did walk down to the banks of the Bariganga River. The river is the life of the city, connecting it to the rest of the country. The waterways are filled with passenger ships, cargo ships, and little boats transporting people and goods. It is as energetic as the streets. I sat on the banks of the river, smoked some cigarillos and watched the action. I did not go out on a boat that day but did the next.

After that, I continued to walk the streets of Old Dhaka. Old Dhaka is, well, the oldest part of the city. The streets are narrow, sometimes not even wide enough for cars. The buildings are in poor repair and the streets are lined with shops, restaurants, small mosques, and tons of food vendors.

Mysterious fried snacks filled with vegetables or meat, sweets, fresh juices, overly sweet tea, fruits, plates of curries and biryani. I ate some things where I was able to discern that they were vegetarian. I assumed I would get some sort of food poisoning not matter how careful I was, so why not go down enjoying the local food? (Amazingly I did not get sick on this trip.)

I walked back to my hotel, getting there after dark.

On the way back I saw something I had not expected. I was on a busy street with sidewalks and there was a man lying down. I hadn’t seen this yet in Dhaka, so it caught my attention. Plus, the man was lying in an uncomfortable position…with his eyes wide open…and not moving. I stopped. Also not moving: his chest. I know what a dead person’s open eyes look like and this was it. No one else was stopping, so I walked to the corner, where there was a group of policemen. I approached them and tried to say what I had seen, but they didn’t speak English. I tried to communicate through miming. I pointed, then leaned back with my arms crossed over my chest. Made a slashing movement in front of my throat…but they didn’t seem to understand. So I carried on. At that point it wasn’t exactly an emergency situation, and I did what I could. It was a little jarring to see death in the middle of a city that feels so alive, but you can’t have life without death. You just don’t often see it.

I had only been in Dhaka a half a day but saw so much. I finished the evening in my hotel’s garden with a cigar, reflecting on all of it.

A few practical comments:

As I discussed in a previous post, I did have to get a visa ahead of time, but there was no other hassle entering the country.

Dhaka is inexpensive. Like, really cheap. You can obviously spend more if you want to go to western-style restaurants and cafes, but just walking around, taking local transport, and eating at casual places or on the street, you would struggle to spend $10.

This is one of those places where you should have cash. I brought a mix of Euros and US dollars and exchanged them for Bangladeshi Taka as needed. I did try some ATMS just to see if they worked. Some did. Some didn’t. You can’t expect places to take cards unless they are more upscale.

I felt completely safe, day and night. It is so busy and there are always people around and they are exceedingly helpful. No one was rude or leering or threatening in any way. Probably the only risk is tripping or stepping into a hole in the sidewalk.

It was really hot and humid. Staying clean was impossible. That said, despite the heat, it felt good. There are so many trees and often a nice breeze, especially near the river.

Most people didn’t speak English but often there would be someone around who would speak it a bit if you really need to communicate.

In case I haven’t made it clear: I thought Dhaka was awesome and was happy to have more days ahead.

Around the World 2022 Asia Saudi Arabia

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

It was a trip to Bangladesh that led me to travel to Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. I was going to fly through there anyway, but why not spend a couple of days? But Jeddah was already and recently on my radar. For many years I wrote off Saudi Arabia as a travel destination altogether. Too repressive of women and their government seemed too … problematic. But over the years I travelled to so many other countries with problematic human rights and social policies that why single out this one country as a no-go zone? And over time, Saudi Arabia did lift some of their laws. They allowed women some more freedoms and put in place a tourist visa program that actually welcomes tourists, so the time seemed right to visit.

Saudi Arabia is, of course, huge, but the only bits that appeal to me are the desert ruins and Jeddah. The desert ruins I would have to see on a tour (I don’t drive & there isn’t adequate public transportation) but a couple days in Jeddah seemed like a good way to see something of the country.

I had booked my flight to Jeddah where I would spend three nights and two full days. Not a lot of time, but as it turned out, just the right amount. (I have already posted about the flights and visas for this round the world trip on another post.)

I arrived in Saudi Arabia from Vancouver via stops in London and Cairo. While I waited to board my flight, I noticed all of the signage for Mecca. Jeddah is the closest airport to Mecca and my flight was full of people making their pilgrimage. Many were dressed in specific white robes that they are required to wear before passing a certain boundary around Mecca, called miqaat or miqat. On the flight there was an announcement 15 minutes before passing this boundary so the pilgrims could prepare themselves and recite certain prayers. I’ve never had that on a flight before. It felt a little weird sitting inches away from people engaging in a religious ritual while I watched some random horror movie on my seat back.

I landed in Jeddah and, having already secured my e-visa, I entered into the country without issue. I changed some Euros into Riyal at the airport and got a taxi. It was all quite easy.

I had booked myself into the Red Sea Palace Hotel. There are no hostels in Jeddah that I could find. There are a ton of very fancy (and expensive) hotels. I picked the Red Sea Palace Hotel because it was right by the old city, Al-Balad, which was the area I was interested in. Most of the fancy hotels are in a fancy area quite far away and that area did not appeal to me at all. My hotel was fine. Clean and comfortable and not too pricy, though still more than I prefer to spend. The location was perfect.

It was in an area that was older and had a lot of restaurants and a market and was basically across the street from Al-Balad, the historic centre.

*me in the morning, while I still looked presentable*

Al-Balad, a UNESCO site, is this lovely and intriguing area founded in the 7^th C but filled will beautiful buildings from about the 1600s. Many of them have been restored and many are currently under restoration. Others are still dilapidated. They are mostly a few stories tall and feature balconies with colorful wooden screens, designed to provide shade from the punishing sun and also protection to women from the gaze of people outside of their households.

It is a lovely place to explore and it very photogenic. I loved it, but was a bit disappointed by how quiet it was. There are some shops and cafes in Al-Balad, but most didn’t open until late in the day, and at all times it was just quiet. I understood from people I talked to that because it was August and so hot that people weren’t so inclined to hang out. Things got busier in the evening, but still, there were not a lot of people around. After all, Saudi Arabia is not a poor country where you would be more likely to find people crowding outdoor cafes in the evenings to escape the heat. People have houses and AC and seem to prefer to frequent the fancier restaurants and malls in the newer areas. That said, I did find some places to enjoy a tea and a bit to eat and there were some people out playing backgammon and visiting, but it was far from lively.

In Al-Balad, apparently, there are some small house museums one can visit, but they seemed to be open only to people on tours, were difficult to find, and when I did find them they were just closed. I did find one art gallery in an old, large house. It was free, contained some lackluster paintings and I was the only person there.

The areas just around Al-Balad were more energetic. There were shops and markets. People hard at work selling textiles and spices, butchering meat, or making hookahs.

*Shops and streets around the historic centre*

My first day was spent exploring these areas. I finished the day having Indonesian food and Wong Solo, a popular restaurant near my hotel. That atmosphere was lacking but the food was excellent.

The next day I decided to see a bit of the sea and what lay beyond the historic centre. I caught a taxi and had it drive me quite a ways up the corniche and drop me off. I decided to walk back. As you head north everything is quite modern. Big malls, hotels, restaurants, and commercial centres. None of it appealed to me. Plus, it is very car-centric. Long distances between things, big busy streets, and not a lot of charm.

I decided to walk back along the corniche, along the sea. The sea is lovely of course, but it was hot. And humid. I walked for miles, with little to stop and enjoy apart from a pretty white mosque. I took refuge in a Starbucks – a place I would usually avoid, but it was just so hot. I needed refuge and there was not much else around.

The heat was increased by what I was wearing. Saudi Arabia does not require that women wear abayas, but you need to be covered at least to the elbows and knees. That said, I realized right away that wearing an abaya is the way to go. I found that if I didn’t wear one – even if I was fully covered, I was not treated as well as when I was wearing an abaya and headscarf. So I wore leggings, a long-sleeved, light shirt, a long black abaya and a headscarf. I looked ok, but I was sweltering. I guess that is part of the reason why I saw so few people walking.

*Me in the lobby of my hotel dressed to go out. Headscarf in my bag.*

I felt like an outsider. Aside from a few conversations conversations, I didn’t find the people to be super welcoming and felt like I was at arm’s length from really experiencing the culture. I think visiting places outside of the major cities would be a different experience. I should say that the were people who I did engage with were very nice. One two occasions, people just came up to me on the street and gave me bottles of water. The man who was making hookahs in his shop invited me to watch and take photos. The coffee kiosk in a small square was busy with construction workers who went out of their way to make sure I got what I needed and had a shady spot to sit. Most people did not speak English, but their gestures and efforts told me they were kind and hospitable.

While I didn’t love my walk down the corniche, I did like Jeddah, but specifically the area in and around Al-Balad.

I had an excellent meal at Foul Fattah, a popular local restaurant on the edge of Al-Balad that served up delicious breakfasts of foul and hummus and fresh flat bread with spicy pickled peppers, and had some of the friendliest people I met in Jeddah.

I spent both of my evenings enjoying cigars and cool beverages in amongst the buildings of Al-Balad.

I had worried that two days might not be enough. They were. I had a good time and while there was more I could have done, I was happy with what I saw and glad I went. That said, I didn’t love it. It was interesting and Al-Balad was beautiful, but the vibe or soul of it wasn’t for me. In some ways I feel bad saying that, but in other ways, it is kind of a welcome change to not always be gushing about how ‘amazing’ my travel destinations are. This is, after all, just an account of my experiences.

I would go back to Saudi Arabia, but only if I were going to see some of its amazing-looking desert vistas and historical ruins outside of the cities. It would be interesting to visit some small towns and engage with people more. I’m not at the stage where I am re-visiting many places, but maybe someday.

I left Jeddah at an ungodly hour on a flight to my next destination, one I was eagerly anticipating: Dhaka, Bangladesh.

Around the World 2022 Asia Bangladesh Saudi Arabia Singapore

Planning for a short ’round the world trip

Trying to decide where to travel next is not a science for me. I don’t have a process or a list of criteria. A place will just start to become interesting to me through something I read or saw, and usually it will be a place that is far away geographically and culturally from the last place I went. So I can’t say why exactly, but I decided I wanted to visit Dhaka, Bangladesh. It had been on my radar for a while. It looked crowded and exciting and intense. I decided to go.

Bangladesh is very far from Vancouver. Multiple stops would be required and when I was doing my flight research, I saw that a number of the flights went through Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, somewhere else I had never been. I also found that several of the flights back to Vancouver took me through east Asia, and many through Singapore, another new-to-me destination.

This is how my ‘round the world’ flight itinerary was built. I decided to spend two full days in Jeddah, four full days in Dhaka, and two full days in Singapore: starting in and returning to Vancouver. (Plus making connections in London, Cairo, and Tokyo.) It seemed like a great opportunity to see three places in one go and circle the globe in one trip. Saying ‘yes’ was an easy decision.

Of course, a trip like that requires a bit of planning. I worked out the flights (all separate; not a ‘round the world’ ticket) and then needed to sort the visas. The visa for Saudi Arabia was easy to get: an expensive and instantaneous e-visa. The visa for Bangladesh was a different story, being one that required an application to be made by mail or in person with loads of supporting documents and a fee. It also required several follow ups by email and several recitations by email of things already provided in the application. It always amazes me when countries that have very low levels of interest from tourists make it exceedingly difficult to visit. Singapore welcomed me without hassle.

I booked my accommodations. A proper hotel in Jeddah, a cute guest house in Dhaka, and a capsule hostel in Singapore.

I devoured guidebooks and blog posts, studied my maps, and tried to memorize some basic phrases (many of which I quickly forgot).

I packed my backpack with two outfits suitable for all three destinations, plus an abaya for Saudi Arabia, and cigars to last the trip.

It came together quickly. I was so excited. All around the world to visit three very different destinations.

I don’t often write planning posts, but this was an ambitious itinerary and I have gotten a lot of questions about how I picked the countries and why I chose them, about the visas and the packing. So there you have it.

Onward to Jeddah, Saudi Arabia.

Asia Iraq Iraqi Kurdistan/Albania trip 2022

A Tea House and a House of a Different Sort in Erbil

My third full day in Erbil bears no mention. I got a covid test at 7:30 am then returned to my hotel room and worked until 6:30pm. This was not planned but could not be avoided. I was especially thankful for the fact that that I had been upgraded to a big room and that I could smoke cigars in it. I killed a handful of the Romeo y Julietas I had bought at duty free. But that is not interesting. What is interesting is my fourth and final day in Erbil.

I had already seen most of the sights of Erbil, but I had a few more wanders and things planned for my final day.

I started with an early morning walk to the Jalil Khayat Mosque. One thing I had not done was seen inside any of the mosques in Erbil, and there are lots. Not getting a lot of tourists (or maybe because they don’t want tourists poking around) they don’t keep the mosques open outside of prayer time – and then at prayer time I was not allowed in. But I had seen pictures of the inside of the large and beautiful Jalil Khayat Mosque and had read that if you got there early you might be allowed in. So I walked there, which was pleasant. I arrived and the high gate around the mosque was locked. I saw a few men walking around inside of the gate and quite far from me, but was unable to persuade any of them, with my smiles and friendly waves, to let me inside. At least the outside was nice.

I wandered back to the citadel and the square and then into the bazaar to look for the Mam Khalil tea house, which everyone said was a ‘must visit’. Mam Khalil has died in recent years, but the tea house that he opened in the bazaar in 1963 lives on. It took some looking around the labyrinth of stalls and circular aisles, but it was worth the hunt (Even if en route a nice-looking man in a suit tried to use google translate to politely (?) ask me if I was interested in sex. I wasn’t. I was interested in tea.)

Mam Khalil’s teahouse is a charming den of curved roof nooks and tucked-away seats, with nearly every inch of the walls displaying framed pictures of family and friends, and visitors of all levels of notoriety. I had a couple cups of tea and smoked a bit while taking some sly pictures. (Pictures are clearly allowed but I still felt odd about it, as it was full of locals going about their day.)

Fueled by tea, I walked to the market, separate from the bazaar but nearby. This is where people are buying their food. Long rows of colorful fruits and vegetables, nuts, fish, and a display of meats, complete with severed animal heads on display. (My favourite, just because I love the gruesome nature of it.)

It was great for a wander. I was invited to sit with one man, who spoke no English, at his little stall selling bales of cigarette tobacco. He rolled me a cigarette and I felt obliged to accept (I don’t smoke cigarettes and never have. I am strictly cigars and, when in certain countries, shisha), but I didn’t want to be rude.

I finally found the money changers’ part of the market. It is something to see. A large aisle of men with piled of currency – foreign and Iraqi Dinars – trading. The neat thing is that there is zero security and the money is just sitting out in high piles. Sometimes a man will just wander off from his money table and leave it there unguarded. No one seems concerned. Plus a lot of the older notes still have the faces of fallen or ousted dictators. The thing is, they aren’t crazy about photos, which is why I don’t have any to share. It’s just as well. More fun to see it in person. I could post the gps co-ordinates to find it, but I’m not going to do that either. The search is half the fun of it.

I walked to Minara Park, which was not much to see, as it wasn’t quite spring, so it was fairly brown, but there is the Mudhafaria Minaret, built in the 1100s. Not all of it remains, but it is still tall and impressive.

Other parts of the park have some statues and hedge animals, but it just wasn’t the season for it and had a depressing feel. I bet it would be lovely in spring. Another reason to visit the park in better weather though is that there is this cool cable car lift that takes you from Minara Park to another park, passing over part of the city, but it was not running at this time of the year.

I went on a long aimless walk, which I enjoyed, but then it was late afternoon and I was ready for a rest. I took a taxi to La Casa Del Habano in the ‘Christian area’ of Erbil. La Casa Del Habano is the main Cuban cigar chain of stores and lounges selling cigars as authorized by the Cuban government. I was quite excited that there was one in Erbil…except there isn’t. I knew if from as soon as the taxi pulled up out front. It had the sign and the logo, but it was a little off. Poorly made. A slightly wrong shade of burgundy. Inside it was blatant. Selling alcohol and cheap goods. And the cigars were all counterfeit. Bad ones. (How I know this is 25 years of smoking and years working in cigar stores, writing for cigar publications etc.) It was not just the cigars that were knock offs; the whole store was. But I was there, so I took a shot and bought a cigar anyway. Sometimes a fake Cuban is still a decent cigar and sometimes it is banana leaves and floor sweepings. This was somewhere in between.

I sat on a sofa in the store, disappointedly puffing on a fake Partagas No. 2 when I started chatting to a local guy named Ali. We got to talking about various things. He told me about his family: his relationship with Islam, his wife, kids, and mistress. Somehow, he ended up telling me that in this neighbourhood there is a red-light district of sorts. I don’t know how this came up, but I was interested. He told me that in the Christian area there are brothels operating out of massage parlours, which sounded quite familiar. He said he doesn’t frequent the places for illicit purposes (uh huh), but that you can go there for shisha and tea as well. He invited me to join him. I know that sounds like a bad idea, but he seemed harmless and affable and there was no way I was going miss out on visiting an Iraqi brothel.

It was just on the next block, though he pointed out several others. The downstairs looked like a semi-legit massage place, but upstairs there was a bar (not sure if there was alcohol), a decorative swimming pool, and tables. At the tables were men smoking shisha and drinking tea. And there were women sitting and smoking shisha and then wandering around to meet the visitors. When a man met a woman he liked they disappeared for a time into one of the massage rooms, where the price was negotiated. It was all very similar to how these places work at home in Vancouver, including the price. (I won’t explain how I know that.) I talked with some of the women, most of whom spoke some English. On the day that I was there, most of them were from Lebanon, and I met one woman from Thailand. All pleasant and friendly and, thankfully, all of age.

I stayed there for about an hour, smoking shisha, watching the goings on and chatting with Ali and the women who worked there. It was a pleasant environment actually. I don’t know why I was surprised that there are ‘massage parlours’ in Iraqi Kurdistan, but I was and happy to see that, on the surface anyway, it seemed to be a place of legitimate business. (I know that you can never know what is going on behind the scenes, but that is true of workers in a variety of industries, especially for women and women from countries that are developing or in some form of strife.)

I want to be very clear that I am not recommending that people go hang out at a brothel in Erbil as part of their travel itinerary any more than I am recommending that one should visit a counterfeit La Casa Del Habano (I’m not). This is simply an account of what I did on a given day. I am also not making any declarations about whether these women have agency or are exploited or anything else. I have thoughts about it, but I’ll save that for a future blog: “Wandering North’s Feminist Think Pieces.”

I said goodbye to Ali and caught a taxi back to the centre where I had a cup of tea and yet more shisha at Matchko Tea House. I sat streetside and watched the nighttime goings on. A family sat next to me and insisted on sharing their cashews.

It was a great visit. There is certainly more to see in Iraqi Kurdistan, but four days and five nights was a long time for me and it was time to move on. To wander North, as it were, to Albania.

Asia Iraq Iraqi Kurdistan/Albania trip 2022

Amazing day trip to Akre and Lalish

On my second full day in Iraqi Kurdistan, I left Erbil for the day with the help of a local guide and driver. I don’t like organized stuff and generally do not like group things, but here and there, a guide for a day (if the guide is good, and preferably if I am not with a group) elevates the whole trip. This was such a day.

I had wanted to visit the town of Akre and the religious site of Lalish. Erbil has tons of appealing day trips that are possible, but I narrowed it down to these places. Akre looked pretty and Lalish, fascinating. It is possible to visit these places from Erbil on your own with shared taxis, but it would be very difficult to visit both places in one day. So, I googled and found a guide: Haval Qaraman. I later found out that he is THE guide in the area, having done it the longest and with the best reputation. Most importantly he was tremendous company.

Haval picked me up in the morning and we started on the drive. The scenery was pleasant, if not beautiful. As we approached the mountains it became more lovely. We passed flocks of sheep and Syrian refugee camps, small shrines and rural areas.

The great thing was that Haval gave me all the information I wanted about Iraqi Kurdistan. He told me about the history, the economy, politics, and about the various wars and invasions and how that affected people like him who live there. He also told me his story about how he grew up in Northern Iraq and how he learned English and set up his tourism business in an area exactly not known for tourism. It is a really good and interesting story, but it is not mine to tell. Suffice it to say that I learned a lot from him and he answered all of my questions about life in Northern Iraq. And he was great company and had a sense of humour that meshed well with mine. Lots of laughs…and learning. Seriously, what else could I want? (No, he is not paying me to say these nice things.)

Akre

We visited the pretty town of Akre. It is nestled in the mountains north of Erbil and has great views over the valley. If you visit during the new year festival in March, it is the place to be, with people climbing the mountains with torches to celebrate.

The town was nice to visit. Small. No tourists that I saw. We walked around the main square and the market. We had tea with locals at a tea shop on the square.

I insisted on taking my picture with the “I [heart] Akre” sign, even though I hate those signs. I would love someone to tell me where they started. There was a time when I never saw them, and now it seems that I can’t visit a city without a tacky “I [heart] ____” sign. I’m shocked Vancouver doesn’t have one yet. That said….it was Valentine’s Day, so what better time to pose with one of these eyesores?

Also in Akre, we visited s shrine of a notable Sufi figure, Sheikh Abdul Aziz Gailani, the son of a founder of an order of Sufism. It was not in the Lonely Planet or the Bradt guides and I would never have found it on my own. Tucked away at the top of a dead-end street, is a building of no note. We left the car and I slipped into a tasteful black Abaya, walked shoeless through glittering gold doors and into a shimmering room of mirrors and colorful Arabic verses, with the casket in the middle. It was very pretty and came with a lesson on the basics of Sufism. Haval assured me it was ok to take photos.

*Sufi Shrine in Akre (that’s me with Haval top left)*

From Akre we journeyed West to Lalish.

Lalish

Lalish is a temple, not a town, and is the holiest site for the people of the Yazidi faith. Not familiar with Yadizism? Neither was I before this trip.

So the Yazidi people practice a religion that is very old, like pre-Zoroastrian old. And it is very specific to people from the region in and around Iraqi Kurdistan. There is some question about to what extent it is just a religion and to what extent it is just an ethnicity. (I am already questioning my use of ‘just.’) Anyway, it is a very niche and ancient religion. Sometimes it is described as an offshoot of Islam, which is totally wrong. It is its own thing and has been persecuted by people of many other faiths for being heathenistic. In short, the Yazidis are monotheistic, but believe that god is in everything, including fire, which has left to some referring to the Yazidis as fire or devil worshippers, which isn’t right either. But they do have some interesting beliefs, like that black snakes are sacred because they saved Noah’s ark from sinking because a black snake plugged a hole. And there is a whole thing about peacocks that is fascinating. Haval told me a lot about the faith and their rituals. It was all so interesting – in fact, I kept exclaiming it – but I don’t want to write all the details of what I learned because I don’t want to deprive someone else of the discovering of learning in the moment, as I did.

One thing I will say is that in the 2010s, the Yazidi people were the victims of a genocide at the hands of ISIS. The details are horrific, and the community is still grappling with the effects. It is certainly worth reading about. It is incredible that it is as awful as it is, and I was totally unaware. One of the greatest lessons history has taught me is that people are continuously awful to one another, and yet, we can also be kind; and the two truths will carry on.

Apparently there has been a Yazidi temple on the site for over 4000 years, though the buildings that are there are not that old. To enter the site you must remove your shoes. Not just to enter the temples, but the whole site. So, plan accordingly if you visit in winter. The site itself is a collection of shrines and holy places. No one really lives there, but there will always be a few key people on site. I was lucky enough to meet the woman who carries out all the baptisms and a holy man who carries out the exorcisms. (They don’t use that word, but it is the same idea, and they have a specific room/building where that takes place.) We met him and had tea with his wife. (No, they had not seen the classic horror film.)

*Me with various Yadizi people at Lalish. The man on my left is an important member of faith and the woman performs baptisms. Maybe that’s why they were allowed to wear shoes and I wasn’t.*

The tombs of the Yazidi are interesting, conical, stone structures that dot the landscape.

Inside one of the buildings, which reached far underground, was a series of also very unusual and interesting holy places. Stone jars of water or oil, bits of colored fabric knotted for wishes and good luck, a stone structure onto which a piece of colored fabric is thrown for good luck, and utter disrespect of you trod on a threshold. Unconnected to the religion, some of these dark, underground rooms had walls covered with ghostly handprints, which made me immediately think of the end of the Blair Witch. A reference understood by no one.

*Yadizi religious buildings. (And me with a symbolic black snake.)*

I loved the visit.

Back to Erbil and a Detour

On the drive back to Erbil, we stopped at a restaurant for a feast of vegetables, bread, soup, and rice (there was meat too, but I don’t partake). It was quite satisfying. Thankfully, I was allowed to eat in the main room with Haval and the other man, and not relegated to the ‘women and family room’. Women are forbidden or discouraged from eating in the main room of restaurants, and there is generally a room at the back, sectioned off for women and their families. The back rooms are fine, but they are often windowless and tucked away. Not appealing.

After lunch, we were on a straight shot for Erbil, but made a stop at a trailer parked on the side of the highway with a little tent out front. The trailer is a coffee house operated by a Syrian refugee. He spends 6 days a week living and selling coffee out of this trailer and one day a week he goes back to the refugee camp to be with his family. Haval told me he has been doing this for about 8 years while he waits to be able to return to Syria. I found that quite moving. What a lonely and frustrating existence, but what an incredible entrepreneurial spirit; to make the best out of a bad situation.

I had Kurdish coffee, which is not coffee at all, but something closer to chicory, but made from roasted terebinth fruits (similar to pistachios?). It was sprinkled with a little chocolate and was excellent.

I was dropped off back at my hotel just as it got dark. It was a thoroughly satisfying day. I felt like a learned so much and experienced and saw things that few do. And none of that would have been possible if I was on my own.

I did pop out that evening for a street falafel and a spin around the square, but then to bed. The next day I had hoped to visit Mosul, but that was not possible, which turned out to be for the best, as the next day was consumed with work. But my final day in Erbil was filled with more city exploration and experience.

Asia Iraq Iraqi Kurdistan/Albania trip 2022 Kurdistan

Arrival in Iraqi Kurdistan

I decided to go to Iraqi Kurdistan in Northern Iraq. As with so many of my trips, I didn’t really have a good reason; just an interest and a winnowing down of alternative destinations based on weather, or covid restrictions, or where I went last. So I booked myself a flight to Erbil (also spelled Irbil or called Hawler).

Let’s get this out of the way right off the top: Iraq / Kurdistan / Iraqi Kurdistan? What I am I talking about? Iraq, as we all know, is a country. A high profile one. The capital is Baghdad. It is famous for, amongst other things, Saddam Hussein and Aladdin. That’s straightforward. Where things get murky is the Northern bit, which is where I went. I’m not going o attempt to break down the history of the Kurds or Iraq or the Middle East generally, but suffice it to say that the northern part of the country of Iraq is under control of the Kurds, which is why it is often called Kurdistan. Though Kurdistan also broadly refers to lands in several countries, like Iran and Turkey, where many Kurdish people live.

*Map of Kuridstan – where the Kurdish people traditionally and predominantly live*

The northern, Kurdish part of Iraq has its own government, flag, laws, visa system, etc…but it isn’t technically its own country.(At least not in the narrow, UN-defined definition of country.)This is always a treacherous topic and places like Scotland, Palestine, Tibet, Taiwan, and Kurdistan are amongst those places where statehood is…a matter of some debate. I’m not going to go down that path. According to the map and the stamp in my passport, the currency in my wallet, and the address of my hotel, etc, I was in Iraq, but I know that merely calling it Iraq is not entirely accurate and is also disrespectful to the Kurdish people, who have fought for their independence, so I have been saying I was in Iraqi Kurdistan or Northern Iraq, depending on my audience and how comfortable they are with geography and history.

Erbil is the capital of Iraqi Kurdistan and one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. (You will see it on the map above near Mosul.) As far as human civilization, it dates back to about 5,000 BCE. Over the centuries it has been a part of a long list of empires from the Assyrians to the Ottomans. It is all very interesting, but this isn’t ‘Wandering Encyclopedia Britannica’, so for a proper history, you should probably read a book, but it is worth looking into, even if all you is read the history section of an Iraq travel book.

People speak Kurdish there, but may also speak Arabic. It is a Muslim part of the world. It is in a mountainous region and in fact the month before I arrived, they had snow. So this is not the rolling desert terrain you might be imaging. I was there in February. It was cool in the evening and pleasantly warm in the day. A lot of the trees were still waiting for their spring greenery and there was not a lot of flowers, but there was some evergreen plants and grasses around. It would probably be more pretty in the Summer, but also brutally hot. I thought it was perfect.

I learned a few words and phrases in Kurdish, which proved to be mostly helpful in impressing people with my efforts. Those that spoke English were happy to do so, and with those that did not, I relied on my excellent combination of charades and smiling.

I landed at the airport, flashed my PCR test and vaccination status (the former was required the latter was not, which was different from what was on the government website) and got a visa on arrival, which is available to people from many countries, including Canada. The visa required no paperwork, but does demand a fee of $70 or $75 US (it seems to fluctuate). No questions asked, I breezed through. I changed some money to Iraqi Dinars. And I was in Iraqi Kurdistan.

The sun was just setting as I took a taxi into the city. It wasn’t immediately impressive, but nor was it off-putting.

I was staying at the Erbil View Hotel. Not a bargain, but one of the better options available. Erbil does not have hostels. It does have some budget hotels in the centre, but you can’t book them online and even in walking around, none of them were immediately apparent. So I guess if you are really on a budget, the thing to do would be to book a first night at a pricier hotel and then look for a cheaper option. I stayed put. The reception staff (who were lovely) upgraded me to a suite that was easily twice the size of my apartment and very comfortable. And…smoking was allowed!

But I didn’t have time to lounge in my room. I set out for the centre. It was dark but I had figured out my walking route ahead of time. (Time studying maps ahead of time always pays off.) In about 10 minutes I was at the centre, in between the citadel and the bazaar, surrounded by tons of people enjoying the evening in the square.

Everything was bustling. Families and friends out, drinking tea, people walked around selling nuts and fruits and cotton candy and balloons. It had a festive air. Not what you think of when you imagine Iraq – even Iraqi Kurdistan – after dark.

I did sort of a loop around, dazzled by how bright and colorful everything seemed. (Admittedly I was probably delirious from that cocktail of jet lag and excitement.)

I was starving but realized pretty quickly that none of the restaurants had vegetarian food. One man said he could barbeque me some tomatoes, but I passed. Fortunately, the streets radiating out from the bazaar were lined with street food vendors. Most of it was meat, but there was also falafel. Joy! Perfectly fresh falafel made for throngs of hungry people who crowded around. It was served in soft, pointy pita-style bread and covered with pickled vegetables and spicy yellow sauce. And it was about 60 cents. Canadian.

Satiated, and not ready to return to my room, I walked to the most appealing place: a 2^nd floor patio decked out with Christmas lights and producing plumes of fruity smoke. Shisha and falafel, the perfect combination.

It was packed, but I found a seat and puffed away on a lemon mint shisha combo, while sipping on lemonade and snacking on pistachios and cashews. It was mostly young, local people. I didn’t see any other tourists (nor did I for the rest of the trip.) I was content. I had made it and it was off to a good start.

I walked a slightly different path back to my hotel and slept, excited for the next day when I could really explore. (There will be more photos on the next post. Most of the ones on this first night came out dark and blurry. What can I say? It was dark and I was excited.)

Asia Jordan

Jerash, Jordan

The final day in Amman I spent mostly not in Amman. I had seen and done what I had wanted so I decided to visit Jerash, about an hour outside the city. Honestly, I was ok with skipping Jerash because, I figured, did I need to see more Roman ruins? Thankfully, I did not skip it; and the answer is, yes, I needed to see more Roman ruins.

I did not travel alone that day. The night before I met a guy who had newly checked in to my hotel and I spoke to him immediately out of a need to mock his t-shirt, which branded him as a recent law school grad. The next morning, I ran into him again and we went for breakfast at Hashem, which is probably the most famous restaurant in the city. It has been open since 1952 and has established itself as the best felafel joint in town. Its modest walls are adorned with pictures of the royalty, politicians, and celebrities who have eaten there. It’s fine. You have to eat there at some point (and there is no excuse not to, since it is open 24 hours) and I am glad I did, but I didn’t notice any difference in quality between the falafel and hummus there and every other place in Amman.

Anyway, my new law school graduate friend, let’s call him Bob, was happy to join me on my trip to Jerash. We hired a driver and proceeded inch through the traffic getting out of Amman. Eventually we got to Jerash. Wow. Probably the best Roman ruins I have seen since…Ephesus.

The area of Jerash has been inhabited by humans since about 7500 BC, but the city of Jerash and the ruins remaining today are Roman.

It’s pretty amazing. Structures, a theatre, temples, streets lined by columns, and amazingly preserved and huge gates, amongst other tidbits. We spent over two hours there and it did not seem too long. It was nice to have a buddy for the day and Bob is the reason that I have some pictures of myself from Jerash that are not selfies.

Back in Amman, Bob and I went for a meal and some shisha and just hung out until it was time for him to leave and time for me to prepare for the airport.

Jordan was fabulous. So full of amazing sights, and so easy to travel. The people were great, the transportation and planning were easy, and the experiences felt very special. I was glad I finally got there, after 25 years or so of wanting to go. I am not likely to return, but the memories are not likely to fade any time soon, particularly that day in Petra. Who knew pandemic travel could be so great?

Asia Jordan

Return to Amman

I returned from Wadi Rum in the evening and mostly I just went for a walk and smoked shisha before bed. The next day I roughed out a bit of a walking route for myself to see some of the things I hadn’t seen on my first day in Jordan. I walked from my hotel (the Jordan Tower Hotel) to the Jordan Museum, past shops and traffic, cages of scraggy birds for sale, and men having tea.

*my new lodgings* – *designed for ‘chillaxing’*

The museum didn’t seem to be fully open; it was just the first floor, but I was a bit grateful for that. I didn’t really want to feel obligated to spend hours there; I just wanted to get a bit of a taste, which this was. And it was good. Especially the creepy ~6000 year old mannequin type statues and clay pots used to bury children’s bones.

From the museum I was going to walk to this area around the Paris circle. It didn’t look far, but I was, as before, stymied by Amman’s dramatic hills. The route I needed to go involved an endless looking flight of stairs. I would have needed a lot more energy – or a grappling hook – and I wasn’t in the mood, so I took a taxi (cheap and plentiful.)

I decided to go to Paris Circle mostly because there were supposed to be a bunch of excellent cafés and art galleries there. I didn’t see much in the way of art galleries, but I can vouch for the cafes. There are less traditional Jordanian and more European or fancy North American style. Lovely though. And I was thankful for the leafy patio, strong americano and cardamom rose cake I enjoyed at Café Rumi.

From there I walked to the Jordan National Gallery of Fine Arts. A pleasant stroll.

The gallery is actually in three buildings around a small park. I had planned to visit all three, but I went to one building (the first I came upon) and visited just that one. It was excellent. It was small and just a few floors and filled with modern art by artists from countries mostly in the middle east – countries that I don’t usually see art from. Yemen, Palestine, Saudi Arabia, Bangladesh, Sudan, etc. It was just excellent.

*Jordan National Gallery of Fine Arts* – building 2

Almost as good, is that on the roof of this gallery building is a lovely café (the Jungle Fever coffee and tea house). I know, I was just at a café, but it was very hot, and I had walked a lot already. The rooftop patio has wonderful views over the city and colorful cushions. It was a nice place. The sort of café filled with young people on laptops. I had two iced teas and chatted with a college girl studying for a biology exam who told me how she wants tattoos. I also dozed off momentarily in the comfortable seats.

I left my new wishfully tattooed friend and walked over to the King Abdullah I Mosque, the huge, blue-domed mosque that is a landmark in Amman. Honestly, it isn’t much on the inside, but it is nice to see up close from the outside and appreciate the tiles and design.

Back to my neighbourhood around the Jordan Tower hotel, I chatted with one of the guys working there – a super pleasant fellow with a fascination with serial killers – and then spontaneously ended up joining a free walking tour of the market area around the hotel.

I had already been to the markets, but it was nice to be able to go with this guide and his two other guests (from Colombia) as I could ask questions and take more photos that I had felt comfortable doing on my own. I also got tips on where the best shisha was in the area, and we got to try the kunafeh (a delicate pastry with white cheese and rose water) from Habibah that every night I saw people queuing up down the street and around the block to get. I had wanted to try it, but was dead set against the queue.

I finished the night with some of that recommended shisha and slept happily. I really like Amman, but after my second, very full day there I was satisfied. I had one day left in Jordan and my sights were set on Jerash.

Tag: Asia

Tuk Tuks

Kawran Bazaar

Dhaka University

Back to the Old City

To the River

The Ship Yards

Wrapping up (and a few more photos)

Akre

Lalish

Back to Erbil and a Detour