Greetings All.

It’s a little after 8.00pm in the evening. I am sitting in the bar at Erbil International Airport, such as it is, and I am going home.

Not for good, sadly. This will be my first rotational leave. Four weeks back in dear old Blighty, then back here, to sunny Erbil, Iraq. Still, it’s a nice break and I can’t wait to get home.

I am looking forward to all the mundane things that are probably considered a pain by most folks. Chopping logs, tidying the garage; no mean feat now it’s full of boxes from our Dubai shipment. Alphabetizing my CD collection. Sorting out my sock drawer. Well, maybe not that one.

Walking the dog and going to the pub are high up there on the wish list. I may even combine the two; he is a good pub hound our Snuggles. Unless there is another dog on the premises, then it could get messy.

It will also be good to catch up with friends and family and all the local news. Although, I do follow the National news on Sky over here and it all seems dreadfully depressing. Perhaps I’ll give that a miss.

Erbil Life

After nearly 7 weeks in Erbil, I was starting to get into a routine. I have to admit, life in Erbil isn’t bad. I have lived in worse places. Moreover, I suspect things are going to get better, as life settles into some kind of normality for the Kurds, post ISIS.

As I have said before, the biggest issue facing a Wannabescot in Erbil is the traffic. I was starting to get a bit blasé about it and that’s when I came close to my first accident.

The Wonderful Traffic

Erbil is circled by a number of ring roads. In the centre of the city is the Citidel. I am ashamed to admit, I still haven’t made it there yet, but I am told it is well worth a visit. Then, there is the 30m road, the 60m road, the 100m road and a new one further out, the name for which I don’t know and which is only partly open. Bottom line, it’s hard to get lost. Just find one of the circling roads and you can usually get back to where you need to be.

I tend to use the 100m road most often, my apartment being adjacent to it and the office, just off it on the other side of town. I am told the roads are named after their diameter. So, I’m theory, the 100m road should be 100m wide. And it is flaming wide, but not quite 100m. None the less it’s amazing how many cars you can cram onto it. Especially in the morning and at evening rush hour.

Coming out from the city centre are roads, rather like spokes on a wheel. Where these cross the ring roads, there are major intersections. That’s where the fun starts. I have seen 12 lanes of traffic at certain 100m road junctions, all waiting for the lights to change and race off. Sadly, in one particular case, these 12 lanes funnel down to 3 or at best 4 lanes on a roundabout. Result, chaos.

This was where I got a bit blasé and started mixing it with the locals. I tried nudging in to the front of the queue, edging my way to get across the roundabout before the pack joined in and blocked it up completely.

I consider myself a good driver. But I have never tried demolition derby, which is what these guys do every day. Hence, I stupidly waited for the lights to go green. Well that’s way too late. As soon as the opposite lane traffic showed signs of stopping, we were off. I was caught off guard and sandwiched between a mad pack of maurading motors. In trying to avoid being hit by one on the outside, I nearly clipped one on the inside. Breaking hard to avoid it, I nearly got another up the rear end. Than a truck decided the fastest way across the roundabout was a straight line and as I was inside of him, I was getting forced into the centre island. It was horrible. But I lived to tell the tale. A wiser and more humble man. After all, I was only going to work. What’s the rush.

Erbil Summary

Other important aspects of life in Erbil? There are some good restaurants. I have found a few nearby, with good food and reasonable prices. I found a gym that has everything I need and which is always deserted, which suits me fine. You can get most things, most of the time, just not necessarily the brands you know. It’s impossible (so far) to find a good butchers. Chicken is fine, but Lamb and beef doesn’t get aged. In fact most times I suspect a good vet could get it up and running around again. Consequently it’s a bit tough, regardless of cooking. I bought some tenderising salt and a big hammer thing. Even after enthusiastic pummeling for a protracted period, my tenderloin could have served as shoe leather. Oh and the internet service is great. Better than at home, to be honest. I guess it’s a question of priorities.

Radio

I quite enjoy listening to one of the only English speaking channels I have found during my morning commute. It’s called Babylon FM. The breakfast show is hosted by a bunch of Iraqi Millenials. They have obviously all been educated outside of Iraq in the US or Europe. They have certainly all spent time out of the country and, to be honest, most of the time their chatter is a bit inane. But it’s in English with English music, so I suffer it.

The other day, I actually got quite interested in what they had to say. The international news had been reporting about Shamima Begum, the teenage IS bride who surfaced, pregnant, in a Syrian Refugee camp and who wants to return to the UK from whence she came. There were lots of conflicting opinions on the BBC and Sky news, ranging from stopping her returning would be a breach of her ‘yooman’ rights, to she presents a huge security risk and has forfeited her British citizenship. This was accompanied by lots of handwringing and soul searching.

Not so for our Iraqi millenials. To them it was clear cut. Ms Begum has screwed up and deserves everything that happens to her in her Syrian hell hole.

The Verdict

It was interesting hearing their perspective. People of their generation in Iraq were pretty much born into a war zone and have grown up never knowing peace or stability. They suffered under Sadam, then the US led invasion, the insurgency, another coalition led invasion against seemingly imaginary WOMD, more insurrection then ISIS. It hasn’t been great, with death and destruction their normality.

They aspire to the lifestyle we enjoy in the West. Most of all, I think they aspire to the relative peace, stability and normality of western society. So here is a young girl who knowingly and willingly leaves all they aspire to, to join a medieval death cult. One which brutalized young Iraqi, Yasidi and Syrian women. Murdering and looting across great swathes of their region. By her own admission, she knew they murdered people, she knows they inspired terririst attacks that murdered her peers in the West. And she admitted she was ok with that. But now it’s all gone pear shaped, she wants back to the place she willingly left and who’s values she openly despises.

To these young Iraqis, it’s a no brainer. No way should she be allowed back. She stays put and deals with the mess she willingly embraced and helped to create. They stopped short of suggesting she should die. But they firmly believed she should take responsibility for her actions, be held accountable and work to rebuild the damage and destruction caused by ISIS. And you know what? I tend to agree with them.

Power Cuts

On a slightly lighter note, the other issue I struggle with in Erbil are the power cuts. We seem to average a dozen or so a day. They don’t last long. Not so much a power cut as a blip. Power goes off for a minute or so, before another generator somewhere kicks in. It’s not catastrophic, but it is a pain.

Especially for my washing machine. We always seem to suffer a power blip just as my wash cycle is coming to the end. Consequence when the power returns? It starts again from the beginning. Last weekend, washing a few shirts took around hours. But boy, were they clean.

Brexit Fatigue

One issue I am not looking forward to getting embroiled in at home, is Brexit. Like Donald Tusk, I am suffering Brexi fatigue. What a mess. And now we seem to be witnessing the end of 2 party British politics with the birth of the new Independant party. A decidedly antibrexit bunch of no character political also rans. I suppose the upside is, it might prevent Corbyn and his bunch of Marxist loons gaining power. But it will most likely usher in a protracted period of coalition governments. These never seem to perform well as politicians don’t seem to like playing nice with each other or compromising. If they did, we would probably have had a Brexit deal by now.

That said, the long defunct SDP party didn’t last long. And it least it started with some half decent and mostly recognisable figures in it. It’s going to an interesting, if turbulent few months/years until we see where all this is going.

For my own part, I am past caring. I am seriously unimpressed by the arrogance shown by Brussels. But I understand it. What I can’t figure out is why the British parliament is behaving the way it is. Like a bunch of petulant kindergarten kids, stropping because they don’t want to share their toys. So, remain, leave. I don’t care. Just do something so we can all get back to living. I am more looking forward to the next general election when we will have the opportunity to vote all of these useless, self absorbed tossers out of parliament. If only.

And Finally

It’s Friday morning and I am at 35000ft on my way to London. I overnighted in Doha at the airside Oryx hotel and am now in my seat, having just finished a p,easant breakfast and my second glass of champagne. I still have several hours to fly, then a quick transfer to Terminal 5 and a shortish flight to Aberdeen. I say shortish. It’s about 90 mins, but that last leg always seems to last forever as the anticipation of home grows.

Still, not that long really. So I shall wish you all a fond farewell now and get back to Malissa Maccarthy on screen.

Have a great weekend and speak to you all gain soon.

Graham