Baghdad Blog

Well, I’m finally back in Iraq.  I’ve been here for a few days now, but I’ve been put in charge of several huge projects that are occupying most of time.  I do have some exciting news to share, but I’ve only got a minute to spare right now.  I’ll try to write tonight when I’m back in my hooch and post it tomorrow when I get back to the office and back to a decent internet connection.  For now, though, here’s the first edition of the Baghdad Blog that I sent home to friends and family.  I wrote this on July 9th, as I awaited my Gryphon flight into Iraq.  Enjoy!

It sometimes baffles me to think how far I’ve come, how much I’ve accomplished, all on my own and with no help at all.  That feeling really sunk in a couple of days ago, when I sat down at the desk in my hotel room in Kuwait Monday night to contemplate the previous two days events.  Sunday evening, I caught a flight out of Austin, where I had been visiting my boyfriend for the past several days, connecting in Chicago and Frankfurt, Germany, before finally deplaning at gate 23 in Kuwait on Monday night.  I walked just a few feet down the busy hallway to purchase a tourist visa, then made my way downstairs to collect my bag.  The scene as I exited was much like that of my stop through in Qatar last year on my way to Baghdad for the first time.  There were rows of people lining the chest-high stone wall proceeding to the exit.  Most were shouting out names, and many were holding signs directing passengers their way.  Near the end of the line, I noticed a well-dressed gentleman holding a sign for the JW Marriott, the hotel for which I’d reserved a room.

As always, my brief stay in Kuwait was quite pleasurable.  Considering the low opinion that Americans have of this culture in whole, I’ve always been pleasantly surprised at how courteous and accommodating the locals treat their visitors regardless of nationality.  The managers and employees of every hotel I’ve frequented in the middle east, unlike that of even the nicest and most expensive in the states, have worked feverishly to ensure that my stay was not just enjoyable, but luxurious.  The accommodations are beautiful, the amenities and service are incomparable, and even government employees of a feuding nation are offered perks such as discounted rates and free transportation.  I almost wish my stay in downtown Kuwait City could have lasted a bit longer.

But, here I sit, on the floor of one of the main hallways of Kuwait International Airport.  I’m positioned again outside of gate 23, where I will catch my charter flight into Baghdad in an hour.  If not for the handful of soldiers and otherwise obvious Americans seated next to me, I might’ve not had a clue if I was even in the correct zone, which is commonly referred to as a terminal in the states.  Most personnel in this airport have never even heard of Gryphon Air Services, and Gryphon’s flight numbers are seemingly meaningless.  Thanks to a detailed set of instructions passed along to me by a coworker, I managed to locate the correct security checkpoint (out of three possibilities) for flight check in and baggage drop off.  Even after passing my bags through an x-ray machine, I had to ask a security guard where to next proceed.  There were no signs above the numbered counters directing Gryphon passengers to a particular station.  Finally, a bellhop took my bag and motioned me to a set of empty, darkened counters.  He pushed my bag up against the wall, patted it down smoothly, and said in quite broken English, "Sit.  You be here long time."  Awesomeness.

The wait honestly wasn’t too terrible.  Soon, a few other passengers followed suit, wandering the lobby aimlessly with a stark look of confusion upon their faces before being escorted to the same stretch of wall that I was perched against.  A representative from Gryphon must have noticed the growing line, because we were all soon waved over to one of the unmanned stations.  As I handed over my passport and ticket receipt, I looked up to notice that the sign still had no mention of the airline.  It simply stated that we were checking in for a charter flight to Baghdad, and it noted the gate and departure time.

After checking in and abandoning my bag at the counter, I proceeded through security.  This process is not nearly as arduous and complicated as is in the states.  You briefly flash your boarding pass and passport to a security clerk at the end of the line who may or may not be simultaneously text messaging his buddies while pretending to care that you are who you say you are.  You throw your bag, regardless of what might be in it, on the traveling belt of an x-ray machine; you watch as the guards behind the desk mingle and smoke cigarettes while your bag passes through, never once taking a single look at the monitor in front of them; and you grab your bag on the opposite end of the line and proceed into the bustling hub of the terminal.  I briefly wandered through the countless duty free perfume and jewelry shops, before settling in at a small table in the equally small food court for a bite to eat.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that in this country, they still value the importance of free airport wi-fi.

I almost enjoy sitting here alone, watching the locals scurry by.  I sometimes feel embarrassed by our country’s overwhelming and all-encompassing distaste for the middle eastern culture and its people.  Though there are some obvious differences in our traditions and customs, many seem superficial, and it’s likely that we simply don’t relate.  I’m reminded during every visit here that this nation is full of people that see, feel, and even often think the same way we do.  As I watch a handful of latecomers sprint by, I’m reminded that they’re all in just as much of a hurry to get to their destinations as we usually find ourselves in the US.  When a manager of the Marriott asked me what I thought of the new, proposed uniform that at clerk was modeling in front of me, I understood that they are just as concerned with appearances and value the importance of first impressions.  While watching Kuwaiti television over the last couple of days, I realized that they film just as stupid of commercials.  I see them huddle together over coffee and laugh at each others’ stories, I watch as they embrace friends and family as they exit an airplane, and I can’t help but smile when I get a friendly nod and hello for absolutely no reason at all.  We are a different culture, but in many ways, we are one and the same.

In a few hours, my charter flight will be landing on the military side of Baghdad International.  Though it’s been almost a year since my last visit to Iraq, it still feels all too familiar.  My stay is short this time, but no less important.  My workload promises to be quite full, the weather to be absurdly hot, and the food to be equally horrendous.  Yes, in a few hours, the next chapter of my adventures unfolds.

Cheers!
Felina