Away Awhile Journal Entry 61

Journal Entry 61

December 13th, 2005

"Kurdistan and Beyond"

A brief update...

So I fly from Tel Aviv to Istanbul. Think American security is tight? Try Israel. Even leaving. A night arrival usually sucks, but not bad when you know a city. Spend a couple days in Istanbul, highlight being the feel in general...cool autumn air, remnants of leaves on trees, enjoying simik (sesame bread rolls), finding a swingset in a residential neighborhood, long solitary walks.

Then I hop on the 'Toros Ekspres', Turkey's second-longest rail line, to Gaziantep, gateway to southeast Turkey. 30 hours of mountains, rocks, hills, sheep. Pleasant.

Sanliurfa: birthplace of Abraham, mosques, pools filled with sacred carp amid a beautiful and well-tended park.

Diyarbakir: center of Kurdish resistance movement. My answer to Syria...a basalt-walled city, fortress-like, with an amazing Old Town within. Flatbreads that bring me memories of Xinjiang in central Asia. Bardaa (pickled carrot) juice. Lahmacun (crispy Turkish pizza). Karasik izgara (mixed grill with scorched red peppers). Kadayif (shredded wheat and oil and sugar). Black-and-white striped Syrian mosques. An ancient Syrian Orthodox church. Views over the Tigris River. I wander, look in shops, hands in pockets, always an invitation, always an offer for a free cigarette. The Kurds are among the world's friendliest people.

More wanderings: Syrian monasteries, views of the flat Mesopotamian plains of Syria and Iraq. Hitchhike with Kurdish refugees who fled two decades ago to Norway, on their first return visit. Military checkpoints. Cold nights. A stop in a town named Batman. Hasankeyf, Kurdistan's top 'sight'...hilltop palace, caves, a Muslim graveyard and an ancient mosque. I wander alone. Ghostly.

And I head for the northeast. Dogubayazit, near the Iranian border. Snow-capped Mount Ararat towers above, resting place of Noah's Ark. Starkly beautiful Ishek Pasha palace, partway up a mountain, guarded by fierce dogs, amid a bleak landscape of crumpled brown hills. Eastern Turkey in winter: cold cold, no tourists.

Then I head for Georgia, via Posof, near a small obscure border crossing. Arrive at night, the only passenger on a two-hour journey, find a hotel for 5 lira ($3.50), eat something that gave me a parasite to haunt me later. Huddle down for a sleep, off early the next day. Share a bus to Tbilisi, Georgia's capital, with four Azerbaijani prostitutes and a Georgian customs official.

My dryest arrival yet: no map, no guidebook, no distance info, no money. Just an address of a homestay. And I'm bottled up. The parasite has gone to work. A limping arrival, more of a collapse. I must say that I couldn't have timed it better: my worst stomach illness in years just as I arrive in a warm home with a terrific matron in the center of this beautiful city.

And here I am. Healed up, mostly, preparing to move on...

'I've never known sickness--or sorrow, or disaster, for that matter--not to unfold, eventually, like a flower or a good memo. We're required only to keep looking.' (J.D. Salinger)

Away Awhile is hosted by Josh Trutwin.