From a married American woman... to you

A little break from our trip to Iraq for a bit of cultural education from Istanbul

I bought some slacks to attend the Alliance of Civilizations conference, which was held April 6 and 7 in Istanbul. They didn't come tailored, nor did the store in which I bought them HAVE a tailor. Nonetheless, I completed my purchase and went home. The next day, I went to a tailor nearby my apartment, deciding to stay and hang out because the entire process would take less than an hour. However, before I could take out my wallet to pay the tailor, he asked me (I'm pretty sure) if I liked Barack Obama. I replied that I did and that I even voted for the guy. He seemed to like that answer a lot because he proceeded to shake my hand quite vigorously and make me a cup of coffee while I waited.

A few minutes after I sat down to wait, he sprinted (as well as old men can sprint) outside the store to bring in this woman walking along the road. He began to speak rapidly in Turkish to her - she responded to him, turned to me, and said, "Hi. So you like Barack Obama?" In shock, I stammered that I did and that I hoped she did too. The conversation got much less awkward, but much more personal after that.

Sarah has been in Turkey for 5 years, is almost 27, and is married to the owner of a local cell phone store. She studied abroad here with Georgetown, got a Fullbright to come back, and then got her M.A. from Bogazici University (the same one I'm attending). Some things I learned during our hour and a half chit-chat in the tailor's shoppe. (remember? I like spelling things in a fun way!) We discussed the benefits of a squat toilet, as opposed to a western toilet; seemingly controlling husbands; cultural anthropology; and our career goals. I will only talk about the first two in this posting. If you want to know more about the latter two, send me an email or call my cell on skype - from Turkey - 0506 994 49 84.

I'm willing to bet that the majority, if not all of you reading this post feel that western toilets are much more civilized and sanitary and provide a more pleasant experience overall. Sarah was once 100% convinced that western were simply the right way to go, but has since made all efforts to convert to squat toilets. Her husband was 100% convinced that squatters were more appropriate. While I'm not completely converted, because I do having the ability to be lazy during my bathroom duties, I am definitely more in touch with the sentiments of the majority of the world's population - who all use squat toilets.

Why? You might ask. I'm almost positive that reasons 3 and 4 would be the ones you'd immediately guess, but not numbers 1 or 2.

Reasons for and against using a squat toilet as opposed to a western toilet (wikipedia):

• More sanitary

Think about everything that touches a western toilet. (Booty, upper thighs, your hands when you flush) Now think about everything that touches a squat toilet. (Soles of your feet...soles of your feet...ummm...soles of your feet) Ok. Now that we've got the basics out of the way, I'll delve into a slightly more uncomfortable subject. Skip the rest of this reason if you want to. I'm goin' in! Think about how you get clean using a western toilet - toilet paper. What does that do? It moves things around, but doesn't really wash anything off. Now think about how the majority of the world cleans itself using a squat toilet. Hand and water. Once you get over the idea of doing that (which you'd think wouldn't be too difficult since we do it in the shower every day - the only difference being that we've got water flowing all over our bodies, instead of our hand only), you'll feel like you are much more clean when you leave the bathroom - after washing your hands of course - just like normal.

Now I can understand not wanting to use your hand to clean yourself. I don't think I'd really be down with that - we're simply not accustomed to that idea. When I was in Dubai, there was a different system. There were both western and squat toilets, but instead of using toilet paper or your hand with some water on it, they put a hose with a special nozzle to the side of the toilet so that you can shoot a gentle stream of water when cleaning yourself. I think this is the best of both worlds. You use water to make sure that you're clean, but you don't have to use your hand! Fantastic. I'm sold. But wait, there's more.

• Better for your digestive tract
  
• Easier maintenance and less water usage
  
• Less costly to install (initially)
  

I think this post has gone on long enough. Until next time... the equivalent of Las Vegas in Iraq

36 Hours in Iraq - Touring with Burgis

By now I hope you've seen the photos from the trip. If you haven't, here's the link again.

Here's the link to Tim's photos. I'm not sure this last one works. If it doesn't, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

After 22 hours of traveling, we decided to get a full night's sleep, alotting 9 hours of shuteye. That didn't actually work very well and, not surprisingly, I slapped my alarm off at 10 am and woke up an hour later. At this point, we hadn't realized that Iraq is an hour ahead of Turkey. We were wasting so much time! We had woken up at noon! Aaaaafh;lk ; adikhgog - spazzing out!!! After about 30 seconds, we were over it. Tim slept like Iraq. (For all you foreigners reading this blog, just say it slowly and you'll get it.)

I really needed a shower (which was in the same "room" as the toilet) and I was craving some hot water. Loh and behold! Hot water!!!! Hallelujah! We each took a shower and got ready for our day in Iraq: camera? check. Water bottle? check. Money? check. Place to stash all the money we're not taking on our person? ummm. ummmm. nope. We settled on the bottom of my sleeping bag. Safe? I'm open to your thoughts loyal readers. Are there any better places in a hotel room with no safe or any cool, secretive drawers?

We had been walking around the streets of Iraq, still a bit amazed that we were actually in the country, when I decided to walk down some shady stairs to check out what was at the end of them. Not much. When we came back up to the street level, there was a guy there named Burgis.

From Iraq and Diyarbakir1

He asked us if we were Army Special Forces - we replied that we weren't, although I don't know how convinced he actually was. Of course we wouldn't say what we were, especially if we WERE Special Forces. We got over it pretty quickly. When I asked him what he would normally do today, he said, "Walk around. Hang out. Nothing much." Then he offerred to take us around Dohuk for the day. Since he didn't seem to have any other plans lined up, we took him up on his offer.

We walked around to the local mall (where things were surprisingly almost as expensive as in America), had a ridiculously large lunch at one of Burgis's favourite restaurants, and played a few games of pool in the local pool hall and card game centre. Pictures...again... online here and here
(different links). I would say that WHERE we went was not as important as simply walking around and experiencing a day in the life of an Iraqi Kurd. It was exhilirating to bargain with people in Arabic, take part in the day-to-day activities of your average male, and see what there is to see in a city claimed to be the most beautiful in Iraqi Kurdistan.

We decided to go to the local souq (market) to walk around, check out the wares, and feel like we were a part of the city. Tim and I both bought nifty red-checkered (sort of) scarves, and I bought an Iraqi soccer team short and jersey set. They're wicked sweet. As I said above, we weren't there to find or do anything specifically, but rather to simply enjoy the experience of Dohuk, Iraq.

As the day wore on, the effects of traveling for 22 hours straight the day before began to take their toll. The thought of an afternoon nap became more tempting than a glass of Jamison to a middle-aged Irishman who just lost a fight in the alleyway behind his local bar. (Roll with it, ok?) Going back to the hotel, we napped, got up, and were suddenly aroused by loud noises coming from the street! What was going on?!??!? We decided to get up to investigate the situation.

Next time - our trip up the mountain...

36 Hours in Iraq - First night

If you haven't been following along, shame on you. Just kidding. Check out the photos of the trip to Iraq. 

Tim and I have arrived in Dohuk, Iraq at this point. While we were quite hungry, we decided that it was more important to find appropriate sleeping arrangements. In my broken Arabic, I asked the taxi driver to take us to a hotel for which we had gotten a referral at the Turkish-Iraqi border. $55 a night for a double room. Too much we decided. We had the driver go to the most popular area of Dohuk and we started hunting for a room. The first place had a room, but it didn't have hot water. They told me that they did know of a place with hot water though. A five minute walk later and we were checking into the Shemal Palace Hotel. I'm going to be childish. Ready? Shemal is almost "shemale"!!! Ha ha ha! Giggle giggle. 

Moving right along, a 16-year old receptionist checked us in after we saw the room. We found out that it was $22.50 a night for a double (we received a triple room for our first night. Sweet.). He took our passports to hold them, which is standard practice in Turkey and Iraq. However, it was quite unsettling not to see our passports for a full 24 hours while they kept them. It wasn't insurance against us not paying because we paid upfront. I think they like to check out all our cool stamps. 

After handing the 16-year old a $50 for the room, he gave me back 7,000 Dinars. He showed me that the dinar-dollar exchange rate was 115 to 1. One Dollar = 115 Dinars. I took  the calculator to figure out why he had given me 7,000 Dinars. With his exchange rate, that came out to around $60.86. I spent the next 10 minutes trying to communicate that I didn't want change in Dinars for my $50 and also wondering why I had been paid $10 for staying at their hotel. Tim and I only figured it out the next day. If you want to find out, you'll just have to read on... such power I have! I gave up and wondered what I would do with my newly found wealth. Eat!!

We walked back to the main drag from the Shemal Palace and took a stroll to find some grub. We saw a place selling what looked like pizza. We decided to have a snack before heading to an internet cafe to tell our loved ones that we had survived the border crossing. There's the friendliest pizza guy I've ever met. He had a really raspy voice from a)inhaling too many fumes from the pizza oven or b)chain smoking while he baked? You decide. Either way, he was great and comp'd our meal the first night. We made sure to go back on our second and final night to order some serious pizzas to pay him back for his generosity. 

From Iraq and Diyarbakir1

After we ate, we headed to the internet cafe. Skype access, email, the works. It was a little slow, but we were quite pleased with the results, especially considering that we were in Iraq. 

We left the internet cafe and ate at a restaurant serving chicken, rice, pita, and salad. It was welcome fodder (an English word w/its origins in Arabic by the way) for two weary travelers. When we got up to pay and they told us that it was 6 Dinars each, we looked at each other, then down at my 7,000 Dinars and thought, "there's no way that life is this cheap here." I asked the guy what the exchange rate was: 1,150 Dinars for 1 dollar. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. (Moment of epiphany) The guy at the hotel had divided everything by 10, so I got $6 back from my $50 for the hotel room, explaining why the receptionist felt ok about giving me my change (not actually $60). Then I realized that this restaurant guy was taking even more zeros off of the bill. He meant 6,000 Dinars each. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. So our bill per plate with a ton of chicken, rice, and salad was about $4-5. Great! While I was a bit surprised that food wasn't as cheap as Turkey, it was still quite cheap, filling, and tasty. 

Following our speedy efforts in the consumption of poultry (time being midnight by our clock, 1am by Iraqi time), we goofed around a bit before crashing hard. Up at 4.30am in Istanbul for our flight to Diyarbakir. Twenty-two hours later, falling asleep in Iraq. Who woulda thunk it?

Check out the videos on the web album. 

Next: Our first (and only) full day in Iraq.