A Visitors Guide to Iraq - Part 1

Getting there

While most people might think the easiest arrival point into Iraq would be through Baghdad, let me assure you, flying into Najaf is a much more attractive prospect.  Firstly, you don't have to go through the spiralling descent to avoid any attacks (air sickness anyone?), and secondly, it's much easier to get out of.

Before landing it is recommended that all female visitors don their abaya - long, black, shapeless dress - and headscarf so that their hair and alluring female form does not drive all the men in the nearby vicinity wild with lust.

On arrival in Najaf, you will be carried the 20 metres from the plane to the terminal by bus.  Never walk when a petrol driven vehicle can do the work for you - the first Iraqi amendment to their constitution.  You enter a small unfinished room - sorry, the arrivals hall when a lone man wearing no official identifiers will shout for all non-Iraqi passports to be handed to him.  Trust this man and get your passport to him as quickly as possible as within 2 minutes he will be surrounded by thousands of thrusting hands, all bearing work permits and non-national identification.  At this point it helps to have your Dad with you to push with the best of them and reclaim your passports.  A little unsure of what exactly this step in the arrival process accomplishes, but hey, just go with it.

Walk 5 feet to the passport control desk.  Have your fingerprints scanned and the border control man look disapprovingly as your head is uncovered in your passport photograph.  Wait as the national intelligence agent comes and double checks your passport and asks your Dad several questions.  Maintain serious face.

Walk another 5 feet to meet your uncle who apparently has 'connections' and can get in past security to baggage claims.  Stand dumbly as everyone else does the heavy lifting (this I could get used to).

Walk (yes, you guessed it) 5 feet to the baggage scanning machine.  Yup, you're scanned coming in as well as going out.

Arrive at the car (big-ass SUV).  Notice there are no other cars around.  This is due to the aforementioned 'connections'.  Get used to VIP status.  Enjoy the tea that is magicked from who-knows-where, and admire the cakes, biscuits and bowls of fruit laid out in the car for your enjoyment.  Smirk at the plebs who have to get a taxi the 100 or so metres to the first of many checkpoints you will be enjoying on this trip.

Coming soon - driving in Iraq. 

Lost in Limbo

Four hours on a plane from Manchester to Istanbul.  Four hours of a teeny tiny seat with about 2 inches of legroom.  Four hours in a pressurised tube with poorly functioning air conditioning.  Four hours with a small child kicking me in the small of my back.  And crying.

And now I'm four hours into my layover at Istanbul airport.  With four hours left to go.  And guess how long the flight to Najaf is going to take...

2 hours.

Actually feel a little disappointed by that, all the fours were getting to be a bit comforting.

So, at this point duty free madness is starting to settle in.  It's all shiny and sparkly and artfully designed so you can't go 2 paces without the magpie in you going "Ooooh, look at the pretty!".  And so far I have spent an obscene amount of money on useless luxury goods.  Do I really need that handcream?  Is that mascara really better than any of the other, cheaper versions I could have picked up in any Boots?  But my magpie tells me that it's ok, that it's worth it for the shine glinting off the packaging, that I couldn't have got it cheaper elsewhere, and that I really do deserve it.

And on that note, I think I might go shopping again. 

Between Iraq and a hard place

Adventure time again!  This time, I'm heading to a place where:

"It doesn’t matter whether you are George Bush, Pele or Chuck Norris – you are not safe..."

Source: Pakistan Defence (Web's authoritative Source on Pakistan's Security & Strategic Affairs - their words, not mine)

Considering the source, I'm not sure if I should take their word for it, but hey, it's a good opener, and I'm not one to shy away from a bit of hyperbole.

This is a long-planned trip back to see the hoardes of people claiming to be related to me.  Growing up in a place where family consisted of the six of us and a couple of second cousins (twice removed), it's a little bit daunting to be going to see these people, people I've only ever seen in photographs, people who all seem to look a little like me.  It'll also be strange to look around and not be in the minority, am truly looking forward to not having the largest nose in the room.

So, Iraq here I come!