Author: Peter Meggyesy

Wandering around it was a weird vibe, as if some contagion had taken the rest of the human race and I alone survived. All around was like a massive movie set but no life around. The omnipresent heat is stifling but as part of the craziness there are air vents in the pavement pumping out cool airconditioned air. In the distance I hear a tap tap of a worker’s hammer and further away the rat tat tat of a jackhammer the only other signs of life working in the last minute bid for readiness for the big event. Fast forward a month and this place will be a heaving mass of sweaty, partying humanity, now it is a ghost town. I am wandering around Katara the cultural cetre of Doha, Qatar.

The greatest show on earth, the quadriennial FIFA football world cup, watched by billions, is 3 weeks away and it is in Qatar in 2022. All around the city the last finshing touches are happening and looking at some of the construction works it will be touch and go to finish on time.

Around the waterfront winds the palm lined corniche with spectacular views across the water to the Doha skyscraper skyline.

I walk the length of the corniche as the sun sets and the place comes alive. I am approached by a dhow boat captain offering to take me for a cruise. He is ready to depart with a handful of other passengers already aboard so on the spur of the moment I jump in.

With age I have discovered that just as important as the final destination is the journey and I am determined to extract every last pleasure out of it. Further down the waterfront is a massive replica of the world cup. There is a stage with music, dancing and flag waving albeit on a small scale so far.

Qatari society is run along the same lines as all of the gulf states. A tiny minority are local and hold all the oil wealth. Over 90% of the population are expats from poorer countries in the world looking to make some tax free money to send home. The world cup has been a two edged sword for Qatar. It will certainly gain international publicity for the middle east. It has also shone a light on the system of human trafficking that in some instances with construction workers from the poorest nations was tantamount to slavery. Similarly repressive muslim laws in areas such as treatment of homosexuality has received media attention. I feel that for the average soccer punter, though, human rights will not be uppermost in their minds. The biggest issue for them will be alcohol. At present only high end hotels serve alcohol and the cheapest stubbie of beer is an insane $25 Aud!! Pretty difficult to party hard at that cost! I understand that there will be beer tents at stadiums but I wonder what they will charge.

Nonetheless this is a pleasant city with enough sights to fill in a day.

This is the last post for this trip and I thank my faithful readers. I hope you have enjoyed what you have seen and read. The next trip will be to see orangutans and sun bears in Borneo at Christmas. I will be joined by my life partner and only love, Suzanne. Catch up with you all then.

The guard at the side entrance to the Grand Mosque waves me away pointing around the corner he says “security, security”. In the aftermath of Iraq I am very accustomed to this and doff my pack as the next guard leads me forward. I am ushered into clean cafe style area with water bottles onto tables and an urn of tea. No Xray machine in sight. A pretty young lady tells me that the next tour is 25 minutes away. I agree to attend but suggest I take some pictures and come back. She looks most concerned, tells me that the water and tea are free, as is the tour, and scurries off to emerge with my guide 2 minutes later. I rehydrate and proceed in. The mosque was completed in 1986 and is breathtakingly beautiful. Able to accommodate 10,000 worshippers my eyes are immediately drawn to the ceiling, beneath the massive Italian crystal chandeliers there are sinuous waves of royal blue with golden trim. The whole effect is evocative of the sea and sand. As I sit in the empty cafe sipping tea the mellifluous chant of the muezzin bathes me in peaceful sound and i am left wondering about the dichotomy of the peaceful aspects of this religion pitted against the acts of aggression perpetrated in the name of Islam.

My guide here is Syrian and chatting with him confirms that this is a similar setup to UAE where the population here is 95% expat workers and 5% actual wealthy Kuwaitis who own all assets. Later, the Indian taxi driver predicatbly wants to talk cricket with me. I get suspicious when he says to me, you are rich and deny it. I am made to feel insensitive when he admonishes me with the observation that most Indians cannot afford to travel and he himself has never been to Delhi or Bombay.

Starting my walking tour along the coast, the 37 degree heat is brutal. It strikes me that I am the only pedestrian for miles around which is probably a reflection on my sanity. Nonetheless the walk is beautiful past dhows, fish market and sandy beaches. The people are surprisingly friendly. As I am walking along a driver stopped at a traffic light winds down the window and asks “Kuwait good?” When I answer “yes” he beams from ear to ear and gives me a big thumbs up.

Enjoying my DIY day tour in Kuwait I muse upon the future of this and similar Arab states. While Dubai has a significant tourist industry to fall back on this economy is built solely on oil wealth. With net zero carbon emissions only some 10 -15 years off what will happen to this city, this country? Presumably the Kuwaitis themselves have amassed obscene wealth and they will continue to prosper but eventually the rest of the economy and infrastructure will take a hit. Fascinating times ahead!

“Taxi meesta? Taxi meesta” is the chant that arose as I passed through Cairo airport. A wry smile crossed my face as I have flash backs to 40 years ago. Welcome back and nothing has really changed. Constant hassle and attempted extortion is still a way of life in Egypt. Cutting a swathe through the touts I negotiate a taxi to the pyramids. Starting price 1000 pounds, finall price 300 pounds and on arrival at Giza a further attempt, unsuccessful, by the driver to extract more money.

Strangely smoggy skies over Cairo have me wondering about the plan to break up my flight for a quick half day trip to the pyramids. I arrive at 8 am and walk up to the Giza plateau and literally have the place to myself. Not at all what I remember and it is both evocative and atmospheric. The clouds finally burn off and the kiss of morning sun lights up the yellow sandstone blocks of the pyramids and sphinx. I immerse myself in the peaceful beauty and wonder if post Covid had the Egyptian tourist industry taken that much of a beating?

When I was last here there was no ticket office and one could just drive up to the pyramids. Similarly the barrier to exclude tourists from the base of the sphinx is new.

At 9am I finally reach and turn around the Cheops pyramid to see the tourist buses disgorging passengers and almost instantly the place has become a veritable “zoo”. Clearly the tourist business is still alive and well. Nonetheless I manage to avoid the crowds successfully and collect some nice images in the process.

Bright sunshine and a cloudless day greets us for our final day as a group. Of the fellow travellers who have been with us for the full two weeks I will miss many of them, not to mention our vivacious guide Paris who has a knack for turning Arab mens’ heads. The road back to Erbil is multilaned pristine freeway and we cover a long distance quickly. There is a stop at Lake Dukan and at Koya to see the rundown decaying but interesting 12^th century caravanserai along the silk road.

Finally we are at Erbil and we have lunch at one of the many cafes in the large and pretty city square. High on the hill above is the Erbil citadel. Built 6000 years ago it is the oldest continually inhabited sites in the world.

The rain tumbles down from leaden skies as we arrive at the Red museum in Sulymani . It’s as if the heavens are reflecting the deep sorrows that we are about to experience here. Historically the poor Kurds have been the whipping boys of an assortment of countries but none more so than in Iraq, more recently with ISIS but then in the 1980s under the evil Saddam Hussein Baathist regime.

In Sulymani in 1983 Saddam’s reign of terror hit Sulymani. 182,000 people were killed, many buried alive, others imprisoned and tortured before their grisly demise. In total of 5000 villages 4500 were razed to the ground. The destruction was of epic proportions. As we walk into the entrance of the former jail turned museum the long corridor is illuminated with 4,500 little fairy lights in the ceiling one for each destroyed village. The walls are lined with 182,000 mirrored tiles one for each death. It is poignant and evocative.

We spend 2 hours here, room after room of photos and exhibits. We visit prison cells, torture chambers set up with recreations of the torture. Our pretty young Kurdish guide, Haana, relates how her further was strung oup hanging from a beam while electrodes were placed on his penist to deliver electric shocks. When he eventually, somehow escaped he had no fingernails nor toenails removed as part of the torture. A short video clip showing the violent beating of prisoners is a bridge too far for me and I walk out with tears in my eyes.

The rain continues and we visit another genocide site, Halabja. In 1988 Saddam struck again. Early in the morning of March 16 Iraqi airforce jets flew over this small townnear to the Iranian border. Apart from his hated Kurds there were stories of Iranian military infiltrating the area, double the incentive for attack. At first they pounded the town with conventional weapons to break windows and doors and force residents to hide in cellars. Then they released mustard gas, which being heavier than air sinks to the ground and any underground chambers right where their intended targets were hiding.Some 7000 people are believed to have died on the day another another 12000 for the after effects of the poisoning. There is a moving memorial there with a small museum and a commerative wall where the victims are listed.

Filled with enough stories of the depths of depravity that men can sink to the afternoon concluded with a visit to the little tourist town of Byara which is right up against the border with Iran. The border here is quite porous as Kurds live on either side and have free movement. We take the steep walking track up the hill and a small acqueduct marks the border. There is no fence nor officials on either side and we take the obligatory border photos with one foot in each country.

Just before sunset we make it to the Ahmad Awa waterfall and enjoy a coffee at the base. A perfect end to a confronting day.

No,not the musical it’s the engineer, stupid! Archibald Hamilton was a New Zealand engineer who was commissioned to build a road linking Kurdistan to Iran as a trade route. The road was to go along rugged mountains, gorges and over rivers in the time between 1928 and 1932. Everyone said that it could not be done but with dynamite, local help and unique cantilevered bridges he made it happen. While little of the original road remains intact, the modern day road is named the Hamilton Road in his honour.

It is a short drive to the Bekhal waterfalls. A pleasant small series of cascades the whole area is dominated by kitsch, gaudy tourist infrastructure that does not do the place justice. There are cafes and souvenir shops all around fortunately all closed. Similarly at the next stop the Gali Ali Beg waterfall which is more substantial but the surrounds were flooded and the cute lttle ducks paddling around were better than the potential hordes of tourists to descend upon the place. Eventually our vertiginous drive through the the deepest gorge in the Middle East, the Rawandaz gorge broadens out into the flat plains around the city of Sulymani, Kurdistan’s second biggest and our destination for the night.

The is a distinct chill in the air and heavy cloud cover that dogged us all day. There are mountains all around and this is definitely the antithesis of what I expect for Iraq. As the road winds up the mountains we stop briefly to see yet another Saddam palace, the walls around the perimeter painted with murals paying homage to the Peshmerga, the Kurdish military.

Our destination is Amediya also known as the city in the sky. Legend has it that the 3 wise men saw the star and set out from here to Bethlehem. It is built on a high mesa on the Great Zab river valley. It dates back 3000 years and is perfectly situated with just one entrance, the 300BC Bab Zabar gate. With natural spring water and ample food it perfectly withstood any seiges and was never taken. Sadly the poor weather amd reconstruction work means fairly dull photos.

After lunch we visit the Shanidar Cave. From 1955 – 1960 American archeologist Ralph Solicki discovered and excavated 7 Neanderthal skeltons dating back some 45,000 years. Remains of flowers with the bones suggest burial ceremonies and that the Neanderthal probably had social structures and customs better than what have thought in the past. Sadly, as so often happened in the past these remains are not here and are at the Smithsonian in Washington.

Overnight we are at at Rawanduz in Barzani country and our local guide tells us of yet another episode of crimes against humanity. In 1983 Saddam ordered his army to massacre the Barzani people. 8000 males over the age of 10 were killed by being buried alive. The gnocide brings me to tears. This is asociety where every family has been touched by violent death, rape, imprisonment or torture. Our 2 local guides relate imprisonment and torture and killings in their families also. It brings me to tears listening to it. I wonder who are the real savages, homo neanderthalis or homo sapiens sapiens.

I was completely ignorant of the fact that Kurdistan in the far north east of Iraq is an autonomous region ruled by its own parliament and own police force, laws and military. This has been a much abused area and the people have endured heart rending trauma. Firstly Saddam gassed them in the early 1980s and more recently these guys have been at the frontline in the war against ISIS. Looking at the map I see Mosul, Kirkuk and Tikrit all frontline war zones, all decimated by fighting all no go zones for tourists for fear of reprisals by ISIS sleeper cells believed to be there.

By contrast this is a beautiful area, greener than southern Iraq and with hills and mountains. The temerature is mild,the traffic is more orderly and gone are the roadside piles of rubbish that blight southern Iraq. The people are friendly, there is a tolerance of a variety of religions here.

We head off this morning on the 6 lane highway to Mosul. The road is beautiful and checkpoints are fewer and more of a formality. Some 50 km out we veer off northwards and climb out into the hills up a steep narrow hairpin bend road to St Matthew’s monastery. Built in the 3^rd century AD and restored over the years since this is a pretty Syrian orthodox complex. Peaceful, the vibe here is distinctly southern European. The service that was going at the time was reminiscent of my childhood Catholic experiences.

After lunch it was off to Lalish, the holiest site for the Yazidi people. These gentle people are partly a religion but more a tight knit ethnic grouping. Their faith does not resemble any of our mainstream religions. It is monotheistic but borrows elements of Christianity and Islam. You can only be a Yezidi if both your mother and father are Yezidi. Converts from the outside cannot be accepted. The Yezidis suffered most from the depravity of ISIS. Men were killed if they refused to convert to Islam and women were raped. Any offspring from that violence by definition could not be accepted into the Yezidi community.

Our arrival at Lalish coincides with a religious festival and the place is hopping. People everywhere, dancing, acts of devotion, baptisms. Everyone is dressed to the nines and the atmosphere is festive. Photography, including of the people is just fine and I and a few thers in our group join in the dancing.This was a special day in a really special place.