Snow

Finally the snow storms that have buried Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and Israel under heavy snow have swept across Kurdistan.  The mountains and the high hills surrounding the city are thick with snow but for most part the city has remained clear, though it is wet and cold at just 4c at mid-day, with more rain and snow predicted.

It really is time to head home!!

Mam Jalal lives...

Late last year Jalal Talabani, President of Iraq and the leader of the PUK (Patriotic Union of Kurdistan) suffered a massive stroke and was sent to Germany for treatment. Affectionately known as 'mam Jalal' (Uncle Jalal), all sorts of rumours began circulating when the press had great difficulty obtaining any information on his condition. In particular there were no photos and only a small select few were allowed to see him. With a regional government election in September, the rumours only intensified to the point that many thought him either in a coma or already dead and that this was covered up to ensure a good election result (as it was PUK was hammered in the polls).

Last night a local TV station broadcast photos of very much alive and considerably slimmer Jalal with his wife Hero.

It wasn't long before PUK supporters were out celebrating. Salim Street was packed with horn honking, flag waver drivers and in the best Kurdish tradition there were constant volleys of celebratory gunfire.

The cold night drove most people off the streets by midnight, but the gunfire continued into the early hours of the morning.

Who lives here?

At almost every level, the Slemani Province outperforms all of Iraq. Life expectancy for men is the highest at 71 years, while the next door Kerkuk Province is the lowest at 62. Only 2% of people here live below the poverty line, literacy is the highest and more women work here than anywhere else. In a recent survey, Kurdistan takes better care of Syrian refugees, than any other country.

That said there are many very poor people here. In the building under construction next door, the workmen also live in the site, even though it is just concrete block with no windows and doors. At least it dry.

Who lives here?

Earlier this week I noticed an elderly Kurdish man coming of a hut in the street behind the motel. I had seen him many just sweeping the street and now I realise that he keeps the neighbourhood clean and local business and people must keep him fed and a bit looked after. He is always friendly and pleasant.

The 'hut' though was a bit of a shock - it is only 2 x 2 metres and certainly not high enough to stand up in. Along one side was a tidy bed and then just a few stacked boxes. There didn't seem to be any form of heating, but later I noticed him feeding a fire in a medal bucket.

It get cold here - this last week the weather has changed dramatically and temperatures are in single digits during the day and below zero at night. Moreover it has been raining heavily over the last week and snow is predicted tonight.

Alcohol...

For a Muslim society, the attitude here towards alcohol is extremely relaxed and reflects this city's liberalness. In fact there are no laws here at all regarding the sale of alcohol and the ONLY restriction is that it cannot be sold to under 18 year olds  (though even this is uncertain). This includes no laws relating to drinking and driving, though there is some talk of introducing some restrictions on that front. However this just applies to this province - in Hawler and Duhok provinces, the situation is much more restrictive.

In reality the use of alcohol is self regulating.  Social and official functions (eg weddings, birthdays, openings, formal dinners) never involve alcohol and most families would not allow alcohol in the house. Only very upmarket restaurants and hotels would serve drinks, and pubs as we know them don't exists. There are bars and night clubs but they are not inviting and generally the reserve of very hardened drinkers. During Ramadan most bottle stores close down voluntarily or are very circumspect about the sale of alcohol. 

Drinking is done very discreetly or in cars up on Azmar Mountain on a Friday night.  Having said all that while most people don't drink, they don't really disapprove of it either. A religious bookseller has his shop next to a bottle shop and his only comment is that 'this is Slemani'.

Consequently drunk people in public are extremely rare, though you do see the occasional alcoholic. I have never seen a drunk woman. However the liberal laws do attract Iranianz to the city as alcohol is completely banned in Iran and also visitors from other parts of Iraq where the laws are not so liberal.

One aspect of Muslim society that is very appealing is the streets are free of loud and aggressive drunks who happy one minute and looking for a fight the next. It makes for a much safer city.

As a tax free country, alcohol is very cheap - a good brand of whiskey will cost just $15, though wine is expensive in comparison, but Kurds are not big wine drinkers, preferring beer and spirits.

And you will notice from the photo that the chippy stand and the soft drink cabinet is well outside the shop and the contents easily pilfered, but that never happens. 

 

Parki Azadi

Fountain

Azadi Park is a huge public space in the heart of the city and takes its name Azadi or Freedom from the discovery of mass graves in the park after the fall of Saddam Hussein. Those buried there most likely came from Amna Suruka or the Red Fort where the Saddam regime imprisoned, tortured and murdered thousands of Kurds. A memorial remembered those who died lies at the heart of the park.

Memorial

By western standard it is a bit of a mess. I have come to the conclusion that Kurds have little experience and even less feel for recreational gardening. In a society torn apart by war for 100 years, there was little time and even less money for planting flowers or ornamental trees.



The park has the feeling of being designed by someone reading a book, but lacking any overall plan. Azadi Park has it all - formal gardens, trimmed hedges, wide lawns, ornamental ponds, a children's playground, an area for outdoor concerts and wide paths for an evening stroll. However, nothing seems to fit together and this is a tough climate for growing plants. Couch grass is everywhere and my heart went out to the elderly gardener trying to weed out the couch from a large flower bed.

Despite a huge workforce, so much is poorly maintained and they certainly have no expertise in pruning. The rose garden is weedy, the fountain doesn't work and is half dry, and many of the seats are broken. The park had lovely spreading Melia trees that were only just setting berries that have now been hacked back to bare trunks. Watering is done either by hand or by pouring water into shallow channels.

None of that bothers the locals who pack into the park on summer evenings to stroll or to attend one of the many events and concerts. 

In keeping with its graveyard tradition the recent deceased and much loved poet Sherko Bekas is now buried in the park.

Sherko Bekas Grave

The Rose Garden

Christmas in Kurdistan

Well you think in a society that is overwhelming Muslim that I would be able to escape the trappings of a Christian Christmas. No such luck. Yesterday in the Blue Cafe the staff were busy setting up a Christmas tree. All the trimmings were brand new and it was clear from the looks on the faces of those decorating the tree that the purpose of some of the baubles were puzzling.

The main Christian church for the city is not far away so maybe they were just appealing to those customers.  Jesus is also respected Muslim prophet - that might be the link.

In reality I had the overwhelming impression I had was that they just thought it was pretty.

Garden centre

I know I go on about how people here do not steal, but these photos are of a small local garden centre. The plants and pots are arranged on both sides of the footpath and at night this is not a very busy street. It would have been so easy just to pick up anything and walk off.

Not so far from here was a brick and tile plant and again all the stuff was just outside on the foot path. It is not the fear of punishment that stops people stealing, but a deep sense of shame. 

Really bad drag

Last week Kurdish security forces captured a terrorist dressed as a woman trying to enter Kurdistan from Kerkuk. The picture says it all, but no wonder he wanted to be a suicide bomber dressed like that.

Old McKurd Had A Farm

We all know about Queen Street farmers, but we have Salim Street farmers here too, but these are the real thing. In the heart of the Slemani's busiest street is an empty plot of rough land. Part of it is used as a car park, but in the middle is a low rough concrete block building, little more than a shed. It is clear that someone has not only moved into the shed but they have also settled down. There is a satellite dish on the roof and an old couch for sitting in the sun.

However, these people also have a little farm there with nearly every domestic fowl you can think of as well as rabbits. There are hens, ducks, geese and turkeys all centred on a small concrete pond. What is equally surprising is that no one bothers the animals - no nasty teenagers or kids throwing stones at the birds or stealing the rabbits that at night just sleep in open.

Houses...

While there are numerous apartment blocks in the city, Kurds much prefer a single family home and that should be as large and as ostentatious as possible! In addition to large families, Kurdish children do not leave home until they are married. The concept of 'going flatting' either alone or with friends is just 'not done' - no matter how old you are, you stay at home until you marry. Even if you move to another city for study or work, you are expected  to live with family no matter how distant. Only as a last resort do you live in a flat.

It is also very common that one of the married children will continue to live with and care for their parents, hence the desire for a huge house to accommodate everyone.

Moreover Kurds do like to show off, so houses are frequently very showy and ornate.

All houses are protected from the street by a substantial wall and open through a gate into a courtyard, no matter how small. Many houses have small gardens or a least a few shade trees or a vine-covered arbor. The ground floor is often heavily protected by grills and solid doors but my guess that this is as a precaution against civil strife as personal crime such as burglary is uncommon here.

 House prices here are high. One of the reasons is that people do not trust banks to be financially sound (and who can blame them) and therefore are very reluctant to keep their money in a bank. So the obvious place to invest is in property which of course, is a favoured investment for New Zealanders as well. Either that or the money is under the mattress.

Earthquake

There have been a number of small earthquakes here over the past few days. The largest was 4.5 and was felt as a gentle shaking movement, though it was a bit more severe on the Iranian side of the border.

Time for a date

If there is one thing New Zealanders associate with Iraq, it is dates. However, the familiar half dried woody fruit available in NZ supermarkets bear little resemblance to the large luscious fresh dates now flooding the market now that it is date season.

Fresh dates are just amazing - soft creamy rich but not overly sweet, there are many varieties and locals have their clear favourites. Some are stuffed with walnuts (also now in season) or coated with sesame, but most people just eat them plain.

As with so many other things there are several date speciality stalls in the bazaar.

An odd choice

In some restaurants here you are ocassionally offered a choice of chicken or rooster! Rooster is considered much tastier and being an older, bigger bird, it cooked for a long time in a broth. Surprisingly rooster is pretty good as long as it has been cooked properly - it is much more flavoursome than chicken, though a little stringy.

One person's weed

As they say a weed is just a plant in the wrong place. Well one weed has certainly found a happy home here in Kurdistan.Taking pride of place in the planter boxes either side of the main gate to a house, I noticed this plant earlier in the year as the owner was tenderly watering his garden.

Over the years I have fought numerous and unsuccessful botanic battles with oxalis, only to now have to admit that it actually looks very pretty.

Crime

Chaos and violence are the common picture of society in this part of the world, but day to day life in Kurdistan is radically different.

Serious crime is very unusual here. When, in the course of the encyclopedia project, I asked if there were Kurdish serial killers, famous murders or major bank robberies, the answer is a very bemused but firm NO. Of course there is crime, but it mostly very minor and serious crime is likely to be a dispute over land or a family conflict.

Recent NZ crimes such as the rape of an 87 year old,  a one month old baby bashed to death and a couple of tourists robbed in their camper van are incomprehensible to Kurds. And Roast Busters is just plain inconceivable here for a least a dozen reasons.  

I never hesitate to walk anywhere at night even if the street lighting if not great. Bag snatchers, pickpockets and shoplifters are unheard of and I have never seen anything approaching a fight. Apparently last week a couple of shots were fired in an incident of road rage, though I find that hard to believe. Shop keepers and restauranteurs don't cheat you, though of course the airport taxis are a pack of rogues like every where in the world.

The stuff left outside shops over night is mind boggling. This photo is of furniture shop that was closed for Friday. The sample furniture is actually moveable making it very very easy to steal, but no one even touches it. When I pointed out to a friend that in NZ it would be stolen or smashed, he just asked 'Why?'. Why indeed.....

One guy was telling he that his mother lost the key to the front door and never bothered replacing the lock. It has remained unlocked for over two years. 

One of the contributing factors is that alcohol is not central to social life and it is very rare to see a drunk, even though alcohol is freely available and cheap. 

With increasing internal Arab migration, dirt poor Syrian refugees and increasing numbers of Iranian migrants, it is doubtful if things will stay that way, but right now this city is one of the safest places I have ever lived in. 

Reassurance

Everywhere around the city army personnel guard key buildings, road intersections and important landmarks. Most of the guards look very bored, play on their cell phones and one guard even sings - not just humming a tune, but full out singing - I think he must be in a band. However, I have had real doubts just how effective they would be in a crisis. Yesterday I found out.

Wandering back down Salim Street I was directly across the road from the PUK headquarters when a car came to stop right on a no-parking zone next to me. The car was really old, probably driven by an Iranian or a Syrian, but the three guards outside the PUK sprang immediately into action.

One guard dashed across the street, while the other two quickly moved into position to cover him. Within a minute he had the driver out of the car and frisked him for weapons and bombs and within another minute he made the owner open up the boot, bonnet and all doors to check the car for weapons or bombs (they make the driver open all the doors in case they are bobby trapped). Satisfied that the car was not a threat, the guard still made the guy push his car down the road - not quite as bad as it seemed as it was down hill.

I did feel sorry for the poor skinny guy whose crappy old car just broke down in the wrong place....

Later it did occur to me that if the car was a bomb, I was really a bit stupid to just stand there gawping at the drama in front of me. Had that car exploded, I would have been scattered down the entire length of Salim Street.


And finally these are the mug shots of three guys arrested after the Hawler bombing last month. They are all Arabs from Mosul and I have to say
they do actually look like terrorists.

Sunday at St Youssef's

It has been a while since I have been to church, but having been to more than a few mosques, I thought I would try the local church especially since it is less than 100 metres away. St Youssef's Chaldean Church is just a few years old and was built to accommodate the growing Christian community who fled to the safety of Kurdistan particularly after the horrible bombing of the Our Lady of Salvation Church in Baghdad in 2010. Chaldean's worship in the Eastern style but recognise the pope as the head of the church and the parish has two churches, St Youssef's and a much older and smaller church in the old part of the city. 

The entrance is patrolled by an armed guard who checks bags to prevent any nonsense, though there have been no attacks on Christians in Kurdistan.

The interior is much the same as any modern church, though the religious images are distinctly eastern in style. What is startling is that the congregation of around 100 is largely women, which takes a bit of getting used to in this male dominated society. There are altar girls as well as altar boys and at various points women take readings and lead the service.

I attended an evening mass which is in Arabic whereas the morning mass is in Kurdish, but church services are fairly predictable and easy to follow, though I did have to reacquaint myself with the pungent smell of incense. We are so used to hearing the word 'Allah' in association with Islam that is strange to hear it in a Christian church. Mind you the Polish word for God is Bog and that is much odder.

As  everywhere in the world, children fidget and are told off, and teenagers look so bored...

As a reward for attending, the departing congregation are treated to a large soft date, coated with sesame seeds and stuffed with walnut - yummm

The rains have come!

Just before 7pm last night, a huge electrical storm swept over the city from the north west. I could see it coming as I hurried along Salim Street trying to get home in time, but suddenly hail and rain ripped out of the sky. I took shelter in a bus stop  and of course the guy next to me offered a cigarette and wanted to chat. As it turned out he was Kurdish but has lived in the Netherlands for the last 18 years and had married a Dutch woman. He was actually flying back later that night as we chatted in away in  combo of Dutch, English and Kurdish.

Meantime the street had turned into a foaming torrent wiping away six months of dust, grime and cigarette butts (general the streets here are very clean, certainly compared to Turkey). Provision for stormwater is minimal so the streets just become temporary streams, though fortunately Suly is hilly so the water drains away quite quickly.

As the storm past overhead with brilliant forked lightning flashing through the air, the power goes off. Unperturbed we sit happily in the bus shelter chatting away while the relentless rain continues to fall.Within half an hour the torrential rain eased off and the air had cooled considerably. We make our way through the dark streets which is no easy thing. The pavements here are 'variable' and rough to say the least and Kurds love large shiny tiles which are treacherous in the wet, but that is just part of living here so you take that all in your tentative stride.

This morning the sky is overcast and grey, but the green dome of the Hussein mosque now looks clean and the trees seem much happier.

As Eddie Rabbit sings 'I Love A Rainy Night' 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebt0BR5wHYs

Shaswar Abdulwahid - Slemani's own Len Brown.

Nothing new under the sun! In Kurdistan as in New Zealand......

Sulaymaniyah was aghast! Shaswar Abdulwahid, the controversial owner of the Wusha Media group was shot and wounded in a drive by shooting.

Not a shy man, his television station NRT was known for its out spoken views and comments and immediately journalist and intellectuals jumped to his defence, loudly condemning the shooting as an attack on the freedom of speech.

Ummm well, not quite. As it turns out Mr Abdulwahid has philandering habits and it was an outraged husband taking the pot shots and not an enemy of the people.

He was not badly wounded.

Happy New Year AH1434

Welcome to 1434!!

The first year in the Islamic calender was 622 AD when Mohammed fled from Mecca to Medina known as Hijra. The Islamic calendar is call the Hijri Calendar and this year is AH1434 or in latin anno Hegirae.

So party on.....

Oh I got the year wrong - it is AH1435, but I am sure you knew that

Zinood al sit

Just around the corner from me is a small unpretentious Arab pastry shop. They don't have wide selection, around 10 to 12 items, all pastries including the ubiquitous baklava which I personally find far too sweet.

People come from all over the city for their speciality Zinood al sit, loosely translated as 'lady's wrist'. This pastry is very simple, a delicate creme custard in wrapped fine thin pastry and then baked in large round trays. Neither the custard nor the pastry is overly sweet and you can eat them hot or cold and believe me it is easier to eat a lot of these in one sitting especially since they only cost 4500 dinar ($4.50) for a half kilo box

Happy New Year again!

This coming Tuesday (November 5th and Guy Fawkes Day) is a holiday for the Islamic New Year and is just one of three New Year celebrations in this part of the world. Somehow I don't think it very appropriate to have the traditional boozy party on the eve of the Islamic New Year.

The next New Year is the Calendar one for January 1st, but the biggest party of them all is Newroz on March 21st when everyone gets at least three days holiday to celebrate.

Yazidi Temple,  Lalish, Kurdistan

There used to be a fourth New Year holiday for the Yazidis, but the government decided that four was just one New Year too many and dropped that. The Yazidi religion is a curious blend of Zoroastrianism, Islam, Christianity and Mithraism and is mainly confined to the north western corner of Kurdistan.

White utes forever

Glancing out on to Salim Street at any time of the day or night, I reckon at least 60% of the vehicles are either taxis or utes and of the utes the biggest percentage are either twin cab Toyota or Nissan. Whoever has the local agencies must be creaming it. In front of my building is a small car park (which doubles as a football field for local kids in the evening and weekends) and these two photos were taken yesterday morning. To be fair to see the car park full of just utes is unusual but you get the idea.

Whether ute or not, the colour preference for vehicles is overwhelming white (over 80% without exaggeration). That is not a Kurdish thing but a favourite car colour in the Middle East generally.

At the top of the photo of the whole car park is a small building presumably for the car park attendant. However this has been extended into a covered area, furnished with old couches and chairs and turned into a local tea house. Every day 10 to 15 older men (I really need to be careful  with the words describing 'mature' men now) gather there to chat and drink tea, though by mid-afternoon they are nearly all gone.

A man with a gun gets things done

On my recent short trip to Dubai, I had to hand in my residency card. Despite arguing for quite some minutes with the immigration official in a bid to keep the card (which was valid till December), I decided that when he said politely but firmly "This conversation is over, you must go" that it was probably best not to press the matter.

This left me with having to get a new card which I did yesterday in the company of a driver and a minder who spoke not a word of English. Unfortunately this time I couldn't bluff my way with my contract like I did last time so my minder called in some help. After waiting about an hour, the guy who came with me last time turns up. With barely a word spoken we go through the process again. Entering the building he shows the guard his ID and his pistol and we go through no trouble. This time obtaining my visa took just 10 minutes and when we emerged back into the car park, Mr Silent gave me a wave, quick smile and then disappears.

I have no idea who he is, but my guess is that he is some head honcho in security here. Clearly it takes a man with a gun to get things done.

However, now I know that a blue residency card has to be handed in when you leave Kurdistan even if it is for a short trip and the card hasn't expired.

World Domination

All the international fast food chains are absent from Sulaimaniyah except one. There is no McDonalds, Pizza Hut or Burger King, but strangely enough there is New Zealand's own Burger Fuel! Expanding rapidly in the ME, Burger Fuel first set up here two years ago and has since opened a further outlet in Baghdad.

Yes the burgers are good and even better are the chips but it is very expensive. A burger cost 8,000 dinars ($8) where a local version will cost 3000 and a coke at BF is twice the normal price. This may explain why it wasn't busy at 7pm, though it must be doing OK to survive.
The franchise owner is a New Zealander, though he was there at the time and all the staff are Arab!

 

 

Bats

Strolling one evening up on a hill not far from here I noticed large numbers of swallows and idly wondered if they were gathering for a migration to the south or did Kurdish swallows hang around for the winter even though it is cold here.

On closer inspection I was surprised to see that they were not swallows but hundreds of bats. Their size and movement as they swoop after insects are that of a swallow but the slightly larger bat shaped wings gave the game away.

New Zealand has two species of bat, but they are much smaller and so rare that I have only spotted them two or three times.

Becoming a Kurdish Poltergeist

There I am sitting in the Melody Cafe minding my own business when the window next to me cracks and shatters again!!  Maybe I have developed a strange new energy here in Kurdistan and I am developing into some weird middle-aged Carrie....

Someone unkindly suggested that I am the target of an assassin but they are so incompetent that they must come from Erbil (Suly people tell jokes about Erbil people they way we tell Irish jokes). 

This video makes fun of this popular Kurdish singer and comedian who is famous for his big bushy moustache and who reminds me of my brother Harry.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mv9DzDa6rrE

Jashnt piroz bet (Happy Eid!)

This week is the Eid holiday and most people in the ME take the whole week off. For those who know their bible, Eid al-Adha (Festival of the Sacrifice) commemorates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his only son, but at the very last minute God provided a lamb instead.

The actually day of Eid is today Tuesday 15th October and naturally the day begins with prayers in the mosque. This is followed by a huge breakfast and it is also traditional to wear new clothes.

If you can afford it, a sheep, goat or cow is sacrificed with ritual prayers and according to Islamic charity, one third of the meat goes to the poor, one third to the extended family and one third to the immediate family.

The city streets have been packed as local people shop for Eid and the numbers are swollen by overseas Kurds returning home, Kurds from Iran and Iraqi Arabs just wanting a break. With all these visitors security has been strengthened and police are everywhere, though the atmosphere is really relaxed.

I on the other hand have decided to take advantage of the holiday to go to Dubai for a few days as a post-birthday treat.....

Under attack? Er... well, no

Sitting in the Melody Cafe, the large window which I was sitting next to suddenly shattered, though fortunately the glass was contained behind a curtain. While I ducked, many other customers hit the floor clearly thinking that this was some attack and the atmosphere was incredibly tense.

As it turned out, the glass in the window had been badly fitted and in the afternoon heat expanded and shattered under pressure.

A birthday in Kurdistan

The day started with a lie in finishing off the new Donna Tartt novel 'The Goldfinch'. I had never read her before so was greatly pleased to find a fantastic new writer (to me) and a great book. The writing was a bit wobbly at the end, but Ms Tartt would not be the first good writer to struggle with an ending.

After lounging in bed for far too long I strolled up through Azadi Park and along the back streets to the bazaar. Normally the bazaar is fairly quiet on a Friday, but my birthday coincides with the first day of the Eid holiday so the place was packed. The main street was closed off with make shift stalls lining both sides of the street selling everything imaginable.






The next stop was to pick up by newly tailored Kurdish outfit which together with the Iranian cloth of a fine wool and cotton blend,  cost all of $70. I tried it on for size and it fitted very well. The pants are the ultimate 'fat' pants - you never could possibly grow out of these trousers which are tied at the waist with a draw string. Voluminous is hardly the word, but they are amazing comfortable and cool to wear. The jacket goes over the shirt and fits into the trousers with a very long cumberbund to tie it all together. You really wouldn't want to go for a pee in a hurry.

After picking up the clothes, my next point of call was Toqif Halwachy which is is located in a small arcarde with about 10 other tiny stores all selling the same thing - a small range of nougats, lokum (Turkish Delight) and suquk, all handmade. Tofiq Halwachy has the best reputation in the bazaar and the family have made a fortune from the small store and own many buildings and apartments in Sulaymaniyah.

Suquk is my favourite local sweet, partly because it is not all that sweet. It is made by threading shelled walnuts on to short length of string which is then soaked in congealed grape juice. The grape dries to the consistency and colour of soft liquorice and then the strings are hung up until required.When eaten suquk is then cut into bite sized pieces.

What particularly appeals is that the grape juice is just slightly sweet and not sickly like baklava etc.

I headed back down through the bazaar with my next stop a fruit juice stall. These are all over the bazaar and for just 1000 dinar ($1) you get a freshly squeezed drink, ranging from the usual orange, carrot or apple to the more exotic, such as fig or pomegranate. Like every store in the bazaar these are tiny places with a narrow row of seats where you sit and order your drink. Naturally the quality and price varies from stall to stall, but all are noisy busy places.

My final stop for the day was Chalak's Cafe where I had coffee and cake and chatted with Chalak who was unusually dressed in traditional clothes. I had arranged for business cards to be printed and I met the printer and sorted out the payment.

By this time it was mid afternoon and the heat was building (29c) so it was clearly time for an afternoon read and nap....

In the early evening I met up with my friend Aso for dinner at the Venice restaurant not far from the motel. I had chosen the restaurant on a recommendation, but unfortunately I chose badly - the food was average and the service indifferent, though it was a very pleasant balmy evening for sitting outside.We made up for that disappointment by heading off to the Shawany Malik Cafe for sisha.

Sisha cafes have a very pleasant and congenial atmosphere with slouchy chairs and couches and a distinctly unhurried pace. Usually, but not exclusively a male preserve, no one, the staff in particularly, rushes around in a shisha cafe. As well as just idly chatting and smoking sisha, patrons play backgammon and this evening some had come into to watch football - England versus Montenegro.

Having never been a smoker, I actually enjoy smoking shisha, though shisha tobacco is much worse for your health than cigarette tobacco. The humid smoke is absorbed more quickly by the lungs than dry cigarette smoke, but I figure shisha once a month isn't going to kill me.

We lounged around there till well after midnight and now at 60 years and one day, I thought 1am was a respectable time to go to bed.

 As it happenen Aso had also bought a pair of Kurdish trousers for my birthday, but the ones he bought were made of a very light cotton and supremely comfortable to wear. They are like massive loose track pants....