I miss pork.

There are a lot of things that are different about Kurdistan, but probably one of the hardest things for me to get used to, especially after having lived in the Czech Republic, is the severe lack of pork. And by "severe lack of" I really mean "complete non-existence of." 

Pork is "haraam" which basically means it's forbidden by Islamic law to eat pork. 

In Prague, you couldn't walk two feet without smelling some kind of pork. My niece and I spent all summer eating sausages and ham with cheese and bread for picnics in various cities across Europe. I may not have always eaten pork chops but dammit I miss bacon. 

Luckily, I have friends who often leave on R&R. That and I had a visitor from the Czech Republic over Christmas. So I've stocked up a little bit on pork. 

In my freezer you'll find Spanish chorizo and three Czech klobasa. We've already eaten the other three klobasa, and two links of Macedonian sausage that some friends gave us for Christmas. We're also halfway through a chunk of ham I was given (which I loved making mini-frittatas out of). I also have a package of bacon on its way from another friend.

Point is, there have been a lot of things over my years of living abroad that are difficult again. Normally, they're things I can live without or that I don't find particularly difficult to have shipped over (like the gigantic bag of spices my friend, Flannery, just sent me!). 

But pork, man, who was I kidding, I love that stuff. It's also a huge pain in the ass to get shipped over. Not impossible, but considering the mail system here is even less reliable than the one in Czech... oy vey.

The boyfriend and I are heading to Beirut in March for a long-weekend holiday that we have coming up. I'm told I can buy pork there. It's very likely I'm going to bring back half a suitcase full...

Don't take bacon for granted, people.

Christmas in Iraqi Kurdistan

Just before Christmas I received an e-mail from a friend wishing me a Merry Christmas and gently chastising me for not having blogged more since I've been in Iraq. I've just looked back and was surprised to find that I had actually managed to blog no less than five times since I've been here. Honestly, I was surprised. I was certain I hadn't even managed that much.

I had promised to makes some posts over the Christmas break since I would have ample time to sit and do nothing, which I then did not (more on that later). But now that I've been sitting at home with bronchitis for three days and I have the weekend ahead of me during which I do not plan to go out at all, I thought I may as well give it a shot. (In reality, I've already watched everything on TV at least once and I'm a bit over it...).

So I thought what better than to back track a bit and discuss my Christmas in Iraq. 

As you all know, I'm a Thanksgiving person, really, but I don't shun Christmas as long as those celebrating have their heart in the right place. I enjoy the holiday festivities and I'll certainly never turn down an excuse to make a badass meal.

Oh by the way I have a boyfriend...

This year was no different, even despite being in the Middle East. 

In fact, here in Ainkawa, we had the tallest Christmas tree in the Middle East. I bet you weren't expecting that, eh?

The only picture I can find of the Big Tree.

It said "Merry Christmas" in English, Kurdish, Arabic and Assyrian.

It also wasn't the only super tall, out-in-the-open Christmas tree in the area. There were plenty of them.

Much like Eastern Europe, Christians here celebrate their Christmas on Dec. 24th rather than on Christmas Day. However, my friends and I decided to continue to celebrate on our usual Dec. 25th. 

I made desserts and my Jamaican-Floridian flatmate made us a Jamaican-style dinner. 

Then the night turned into the usual party. Honestly, there wasn't much to it. The only reason I'd really call it Christmas was that I had put up decorations (i.e. We had a Christmas tree and some lights strewn up on the balcony...) 

It was a rather modest Christmas tree.

There weren't really any gifts (unless you count the alcohol people brought or the pork I was given, which I certainly do), but it was rather informal as a Christmas among friends tends to be. Still, it helped take the sting out of what could have been a really sad, lonely, boring day without my family around.

A Piece of Rural Iraq

When I was heading over here a lot of people kept telling me they thought I was crazy. While most of those people were talking about the cultural differences I would experience, a few thought I was nutters because they assumed I was moving to the middle of the desert and would probably mark my address in relation to which sand dunes I was stuck between.

Fact: Not all of Iraq is a desert. In fact, there are mountainous highlands, valleys, marshes, and grasslands in addition to the desert which lies in the southwest part of the country.

I was lucky enough to be invited to a friend's family home in a small village in the mountains near the Turkish border. We all know how much I love villages.

This is a man's world... and other observations.

I've been in Iraq just over a month and I have to tell you, it's nothing like I thought it would be.

All of those assumptions you or I or pretty much any Westerner has made about living in the Middle East, most of them are complete crap fed by the media (sometimes the mass journalist media, but also movies, etc.)

There are only a few ideas I had about Iraq before I got here that are left standing:

1. This is a man's world. That said, Kurdistan is fairly progressive. Women can be doctors and vote and drive and take care of their bodies in the way that they see fit. Also, in the event of a marriage, apparently any and all things in the bedroom belong to the woman. Keep that in mind guys. However, women are sometimes treated like second-class citizens. There are still rather rigid gender lines, especially among the older generations. I can actually see a clear distinction of this when talking to my older and younger students. The thoughts surrounding gender are definitely changing and you can see it happening.

Safety and Security in Kurdistan

There are a million and one things I could blog about already and I've not even been here two weeks. From food adventures to taxi rides my first few days in Iraq have certainly been interesting. Alas, I don't want to give away everything all at once, so I'm going to just pick a topic and stick with it.

I know one the the major concerns of my family and friends when I told them I would be moving here was my safety living in Iraqi Kurdistan. That's part of the reason I simply said Kurdistan in the beginning. "I'm moving to Kurdistan" doesn't quite have the same jarring effect as "I'm moving to Iraq." But of course that's with good reason. That said, this is still Iraq even if it is an autonomous region of it.

However, I am safe. Honestly, I'm very safe.

There are two security guards outside my villa at all times. I use the same taxi driver to and from work every day and I believe he has been told he must call or text our reception whenever I get in the car with him. He seems trustworthy enough, but I think they just want to know whenever I leave my workplace so they know how long it should take before I get back. This way, if for some reason I don't turn up, they are on it.

Seriously, I am pretty sure someone always knows where I am. I don't really think anyone is keeping strict tabs on me, but it sort of seems that way.

Thursday is the new Friday

It's Friday! Well, actually it's Thursday, but here Thursday is Friday and Sunday is Monday. It's really tough to keep straight right now and I keep telling me students we'll start something new on Monday, but I mean Sunday.

Anyway, my first two days of teaching are down. I really like my new students and I'm excited. They're in an archaeological program for the conservation of heritage and antiquities. In other words, they're learning to preserve artifacts that are found in their regions, especially those that would preserve Iraqi or Kurdish history. It's a pretty interesting program and since it was originally funded by the U.S. Embassy (and now the University of Delaware) the students are also required to make an effort to improve their English. 

I've moved to Iraq.

I know. Not exactly where I or anyone probably thought I'd be. 

I left Prague Saturday night in full tears. (I'll be writing a post with a proper goodbye to Prague later.) Unfortunately, my flight left an hour late so I missed my connection in Istanbul. Fortunately for me, that means I got to spend a day in Istanbul courtesy of Turkish Airlines. More on that in another post.

I finally arrived in Erbil (also known as Arbil or Hawler) at about 3 a.m. on Monday morning. My boss met me at the airport and helped me get my 40 kilos of luggage (for which I did not pay an extra cent because of a really amazing friend) up to my room in the female teachers villa. I was already exhausted but I was too wired to sleep. So I was up until 6 a.m. and then proceeded to sleep on and off the rest of the day until about 1 p.m. when I decided to get up, get dressed and go across the street to the office.

Problem: I had no water. I couldn't flush the toilet or use my shower upstairs. Downstairs there was the tiniest bit of water so I was able to wash my hands and face and brush my teeth. Great first morning, eh?