IRBIL, Iraq — So, I’m lying on a fluffy white duvet and surfing the flat-screen TV embedded in my hotel room wall. I’ve just finished a meal of Milanese risotto flavored with saffron, washed down with a glass of chilled pinot grigio. Through the window, I can see the twinkling lights of what claims to be the oldest continually inhabited city in the world, giving way to the darkness of the plains of northern Iraq.
That’s right. I’m in Iraq. In a five-star hotel. With Italian wine and Italian food, cooked by an Italian chef. There are buckets of iced champagne sitting on the bar downstairs, and a Bulgarian pianist is playing classical music in the marbled lobby. It’s just too un-Iraq to be true — and in some ways it’s not true.
For this isn’t the real Iraq, the one where bombs go off and people are assassinated and the electricity is almost never on. This is Kurdistan, the northern enclave that broke away from Saddam Hussein’s Iraq after the 1990-91 Persian Gulf War and secured virtual autonomy from Baghdad after the U.S. invasion in 2003. It’s mostly safe, and much of it is beautiful, in some places spectacularly so. It’s populated not by Arabs but by Kurds, who claim European descent, speak their own language and are possessed of an unqualified love for all Americans.
It’s also old, with archaeological settlements dating back 9,000 years and remnants of a multitude of civilizations too numerous to list.
Kurds like to promote it as “the other Iraq,” an acknowledgment that it is in fact part of that country. But as they will also readily tell you, they dream of independence in an expanded nation of Kurdistan reaching into Turkey, Syria and Iran.
And it is supposedly the hot new tourist destination of 2011, scraping in at No. 20 on National Geographic’s list of “20 best trips of 2011.”
I’m here to find out why.
Bright ambitions
It soon becomes apparent that Irbil’s five-star Rotana Hotel is not the real Kurdistan, either. It’s a pinprick of Western-style luxury in an unspoiled land. Irbil’s new airport, a cavernous structure of white steel and gleaming marble, speaks to Kurdistan’s aspirations to become a global destination for businessmen and tourists. Its empty terminals suggest that there’s still a long way to go to fulfill those ambitions.
Here, travelers can obtain 10-day visas, which are not, however, valid for the rest of Iraq. And that raises one of the key challenges of any visit: figuring out where Kurdistan ends and the rest of Iraq begins. The borders between the region of Kurdistan and the rest of the country are hotly disputed, and it’s not a good idea to stray beyond them into areas still prowled by insurgents.
In addition to the risk of straying into hostile territory, travelers need to be aware of possible anti-government protests. Kurds recently underwent their own mini-version of an Arab Spring, with almost daily demonstrations in the region’s second city, Sulaymaniyah. Live ammunition was used against the demonstrators, and though the protest movement has now been crushed, the core grievances that caused it, including corruption and restrictions on free speech, have not been resolved. The unrest has severely dented Kurdistan’s claims of being an oasis of calm in a troubled region and undermined its boasts of democracy.
Kurds, however, know where the boundaries lie and where protests are likely to occur, so the best way to get around, short of joining an organized tour, is to hire local guides.
Driver Ako Abdullah and Kurdish journalist Kamaran Najm are waiting for me at the airport, along with American photographer Sebastian Meyer, and we set out for Sulaymaniyah, a two-hour drive.
Sulaymaniyah is what is known in Iraq as a “new” city, which means that it was built in 1784. It looks little like the flat, beige, monotonous cityscapes of Iraq so familiar from years of TV war coverage. Mulberry trees line the streets, snow-capped mountains glitter against a clear blue sky, and the bazaar is crowded with Kurds in the billowing pants and round caps that are the most visible signs of their distinctive culture.
We stop for tea at the legendary Sha’ab (People’s) tea shop, which is packed with men sipping glasses of piercingly sweet tea and shouting loudly while playing dominoes.
There are also blurry, fading photographs of the pesh merga fighters, the onetime rebels who occupy a central role in Kurdish history and are key to understanding Kurdistan and its culture.
Their triumph came in 1991, after the Gulf War, when the Kurds revolted and ejected Iraqi forces. One of the fiercest battles was fought here in Sulaymaniyah, at what is known as the Red Security Building, which housed the offices of the dreaded Mukhabarat, Sad- dam’s intelligence service.
The facade is still peppered with bullet holes, a reminder of the fierce fighting that took place as the pesh merga fighters closed in on the besieged Baathists inside. The walls of one room have been embedded with the shards of mirrors, 80,000 in all, in an eerily evocative memorial to the estimated 80,000 victims of Saddam’s attempt in the late 1980s to wipe out the Kurds altogether.
Otherwise, little has been done to formalize the facility, except to strew a few authentically grubby blankets around the stone floors and install a smattering of life-size white plaster figures cast in postures of suffering.
The Kurds wear the suffering of their past with a mixture of pride and determination to guard against history’s habit of repeating itself. Another museum memorializes one of Saddam’s ugliest deeds, in the town of Halabja, an hour’s drive southeast of Sulaymaniyah.
It was here, in 1988, that Iraqi warplanes dropped mustard gas and cyanide on Kurdish civilians, apparently to punish them for supporting the pesh merga. The museum features a diorama of plaster dead people and real stuffed animals based on scenes captured by news photographers, a wall inscribed with the names of the 5,000 or so victims and a video of the horrific injuries inflicted.
A deeper step into past
But now it’s time to check out some of the more ancient aspects of Kurdistan’s heritage, so we head back to Irbil. Because it’s already dark, we have to skip the 9,000-year- old village of Jarmo, reputedly the oldest discovered site of human habitation in the world, though locals assure us that there’s nothing to see but a few holes in the ground.
The next day, we head northwest across the rolling plains of biblical Ninevah, where the pre-Christian Assyrian empire was based. Striking out across what appears to be an empty field, we encounter the half-buried remains of an Assyrian aqueduct at the site of Jerwan. Built about 3,000 years ago, it lies alongside a definitely modern minefield planted by Saddam’s army.
The minefield, mercifully, is marked by rows of upside- down red triangles on sticks. The ruins bear no sign identifying them as an important archaeological site, and we clamber over them, running our fingers over the cuneiform inscriptions left by the workmen of a forgotten civilization, who constructed what is reputed to be world’s oldest aqueduct.
Heading north into the foothills of the Zagros Mountains, we pass a growing number of pointy, conical structures, signifying that we are closing in on our next destination — Lalish, the spiritual capital of the obscure and much threatened Yazidi religious minority.
One of the lures of Kurdistan is its diversity; most Kurds are Sunni Muslim, but there are also sizable minorities, including Christians of various ancient denominations. The pointy cones are graves and temples belonging to the Yazidis, who claim to be the original inhabitants of the land.
For many centuries, the Yazidis were a closed and secretive sect. But now they have concluded that their survival may best be ensured by opening up to the world.
Tourists are welcome, and so are their probing questions, although you’re left with the impression that they aren’t quite telling you everything.
A photo paradise
Another reason to visit Kurdistan is the spectacular scenery, and you don’t have to stray into dangerous territory to find it.
Two hours northeast of Irbil lies the legendary beauty spot of Rawanduz, along a road that climbs high into jagged peaks and winds perilously along plunging gorges.
Rounding one last peak, we come across the reason Iraqis flock to the area in the thousands during the summer months: a lurid amusement park perched on the mountainside, complete with a Ferris wheel and a contraption best described as a cross between a luge and a roller coaster, which sends you rocketing down the mountainside at breakneck speed in a little capsule.
Finally, it’s time to explore the Kurdish capital of Irbil, which claims to outrank Syria’s capital, Damascus, as the oldest continually inhabited city in the world by a few thousand years.
At first glance, there’s nothing old at all about this pancake-flat metropolis, whose squat beige structures give it a strong resemblance to most other Iraqi cities. But the streets are clean and freshly paved, and every other building, it seems, is either new or under construction.
Irbil is in the throes of a massive economic boom, fueled by its proximity to the real Iraq. Businesses are flooding here to gain a foothold, and tourists from the rest of the country swarm here to shop in the rapidly proliferating malls and to eat and drink in safety at the restaurants, bars and outdoor cafes of Ankawa, a Christian suburb where alcohol is readily available.
For American travelers, the biggest draw is likely to be the ancient citadel, a vast walled city towering 90 feet above the traditional bazaar. I had assumed that its soaring ramparts were some form of defense, but David Michelmore, a British conservationist working at the site, explains that the citadel is high simply because so many civilizations have been layered atop one another. The earliest identified dates to the Uruk era in approximately 6000-4000 B.C.; the uppermost structures were mostly built in the 19th century under Ottoman rule.
In 2006, the last remaining residents were evicted to prepare for a massive restoration expected to last a decade. Michelmore envisages that once complete, it will resemble the exquisite walled city in Damascus, with the Ottoman-era homes converted into trendy restaurants and boutique hotels.
But sometimes, unrestored has its own charm. We stroll along the deserted cobblestone streets and wander into living rooms and courtyards that once belonged to now long-dead merchants and functionaries, admiring the elaborate murals and the elegant wood and stone carvings of a bygone era.
That’s perhaps one of Kurdistan’s biggest attractions: that it’s still so untouched by the modern world. Yes, modernity is galloping at a furious pace into Irbil and beyond. But in three days of exploring, we haven’t encountered a single other tourist.
Where else can you climb 3,000-year-old ruins next to a minefield? Or sip tea with the adherents of an ancient religion? And there’s certainly no place else in Iraq where you can toast the day’s end with a glass of chilled pinot grigio.
Kurdistan Insider’s Guide
STAY
Hotel Rotana, Irbil, 011-964-66-210-5555, . This five-star luxury hotel opened in February. Rooms from $199.
Hawler Plaza, Irbil, 011-964-66-222-8890. A more modestly priced option with large, clean, modern rooms and a friendly atmosphere. Rooms from $110.
Lalezar Sulaymaniyah, Sulaymaniyah, 011-964-53-319-2601, . Its claim to be Iraq’s first spa hotel doesn’t quite meet expectations, but it has a glorious blue-tiled traditional hamam (communal bath) in the basement and clean, spacious, modern rooms. From $165.
DINE
Basilico, Irbil. In the Rotana Hotel, real Italian food and wine. A meal is about $60 a person.
The Fisherman, Irbil. There are no street addresses in Irbil, but tell a taxi driver to take you to the Awo (Today) restaurant, and you’ll find the Fisherman next door, with the fish you’ll eat swimming in a tank outside. Serves the Baghdad specialty masgouf, or flame- grilled carp, fished out of the Tigris in Baghdad and transported in a water tank along still-perilous roads to Kurdistan.
Great Wall of China, Sulaymaniyah. Authentic Chinese food on Salam Street. Or stop at any of the many kebab restaurants for the local specialty.
WHAT TO DO
Irbil Citadel: Open sunrise to sunset. Free.
Irbil bazaar: At the foot of the citadel, this traditional Eastern bazaar offers exotic shopping opportunities, including a wide assortment of kitsch. Open early morning to mid-afternoon.
Red Security Building, Sulaymaniyah. Will open when visitors arrive; tell the guards at the gate that you want to go in and they will call a guide to show you around. Free.
Halabja Museum: Open daily. Free.
MORE INFO: iguide.travel/ Iraqi_Kurdistan/Introduction
