Weddings both real and fake

Just a few days after we faked our own marriage (my continued apologies to those who believed it.) We were invited to attend a wedding in Iraqi Kurdistan. Being polite Canadians, we asked several times "Are you sure it's ok that we come?". Of course our questions were dismissed and we were told that it's a celebration and everyone is welcome. Given that we were complete strangers dressed in backpacker's finest (which is not that fine) we started the evening off feeling a tad nervous.Realizing that "everyone is welcome" is actually true and all kinds of friends-of-friends were present, we both felt a bit calmer. I asked our host Zring, what will happen if they don't have enough seats or enough food? He looked at me like I was crazy and responded "then they will get more chairs and cook more food." Dumb questions deserve dumb answers I suppose. Wouldn't it be nice if weddings in Canada were this inclusive and laid back? 

The enterance of the bride and groom was a lively and exciting procession,consisting of many musical instruments and their closest friends and family ushering them in a dancing frenzy. Kurdish traditional dancing is very energetic, it looks pretty straightforward but is difficult when you give it a try (we did, of course.)

The highlights of the evening came later on, after the meal was eaten and the dancing started to die down. Feeling a bit curious about the two foreigners, many guests came to sit and chat with us. Interestingly many had spend some time living in Canada (mostly Calgary and parts of BC) and were now either splitting their time been Kurdistand and Canada or had returned to Kurdistan now that it's politically stable and economically prosperous. 

The friendships we made that night gave us more insight into Kurdish history, culture and politics than any book or movie could have possibly done. Among our new friends, we met a former Peshmerga soldier, a documentary film maker/photographer who had years of his work destroyed by Sedam's army, a 16 year old boy with hopes of going to University in Alberta and a primary school science teacher who was about to retire after 32 years of teaching. 

Kurdish hospitality is legendary (nearly everyone we met offered for us to come and stay with them) but their openness doesn't end at offering up their guest rooms. I was taken back by how honest and sincere they were in telling their stories and sharing their views. The people we met have suffered terribly and seen years of war but thankfully most felt hopeful about the future of Kurdistan. 

Meeting the bride and groom. 

The groom is thinking "who is this foreigner taking my picture?"

Meeting a visually impaired 90 year old who spoke no English. Our conversation involved  him seeing "welcome, welcome" many times. 

New friends. 

The bride's family, lady on the left is a good example of women's traditional dress. 

Another new friend and men's traditional dress, worn everyday by many people. 

Just arrived home from Calgary, where she just graduated from the University of Alberta. 

No alcohol means plenty of fanta. 

Flashback to Croatia

It feels like an eternity since we were in Croatia.

We are in Iran now, with Internet so slow it would put Northern Ontario dial-up to shame, and I have been doing some picture organizing. I came across some Croatia files and my traveller's urge to bottle everything up has taken over.

So here we go, a picture tour of Croatia's Dalmatian coast.

"Eeeeeat"

In Belgrade we became friends with an awesome couple named Neda and Milutin. Zack and I (both marriage skeptics) admitted that these Serbian newlyweds “had it together.” From the two days we spent with them, it was clear their partnership was something to be emulated. Lucky for our homeland, it looks like Neda and Milutin may be Canadians one day soon; they are currently going through the motions of the Canadian immigration system.

Late one night after leaving the bar, Neda, Milutin and a group of about five of their friends took us to a restaurant (more of a food shack really) to try some famous Serbian meat, in this case an enormous hamburger folded with cheese stuffed inside (brilliant, I know.) Each of the late night grilling options could be topped with anything you like, including different vegetables and sauces.

While sitting on picnic tables and inhaling our grilled late night goodness, I asked Neda what Serbian people do on Sundays (it was late Saturday night after all.) With a mouth full of grilled spicy sausage topped with mushroom cream sauce, she responded in an exaggerated deep voice, “eeeeeat.” Bear in mind this is also the woman who told me that she once ate roasted pork so delicious she burst into tears.

Thinking about Neda and her unabashed/refreshing love of food inspired me to blog about some of the amazing (and some of the far-from-amazing) meals we have had so far on this trip.

Without getting to “dear diary”, I couldn’t possibly post about food without mentioning my ever turbulent relationship with food. Like a lot of Western women, I often feel guilty after eating and classify everything into “can’t have”, “can have” categories using an elaborate inner math equation based on what else I’ve eaten that day and how much exercise I’ll be getting. I know I’m not alone in this one since this very topic creeps into countless conversations with nearly every female friend I have. Thankfully things get put into perspective pretty quickly when you travel and while I’d like to say “I’ve been cured” of my hellish relationship with food, I’m happy to report it’s certainly mellowed. 

Going to grab a handful of these fresh home made ju-jubes became a habit very quickly in Sulaymania , Kurdistan. By the third day the shop owner prepared my dish of "take-away" treats when he saw me coming. 

Just when Zack thought Baklava couldn't get any better he discovered Baklava mashed up in custard. This dish was purchased as a gift from a nice guy who just happened to be in the shop, Kurdish hospitality never disappoints.  

Cevapi! If you think this looks like delicious breakfast sausages in a buttery nan-like bread, you are right. It's a Bosnian obsession to eat cevapi usually with a side of raw diced onions. This one was purchased for us by a friendly truck driver, driving a truck full of smelly cows to the slaughter house. Yes, eating beef in a truck on the way to a slaughter house it a bit morbid. 

Calamari baguettes (or bocadilos) in a Madrid "typical dish" according to our friend Devorah. 

Family breakfast at the farm in Banja Luka. Those are soy patties on the left, so delicious and the only vegetarian protein we saw in the Balkans. 

A dinner of champions while camping in the rain in Slovenia. 

Kumpir, the first thing we ate in Turkey. It's basically a baked potato  hand mashed with butter and cheese and then filled with everything you could imagine (corn, olives, spicy sauce, sausage slices.) 

One of many pizza sessions in Italy. This one was purchased by weight in front of the Duomo in Florence. It was good but nothing compared the pizza heaven that is Naples. 

Gelato mountains, also in Italy. 

Our first meal in Kurdistan at a road side truck stop between Turkey and Erbil. We were confused when more and more side dishes were being brought to the table, little did we know you were supposed to wave away the ones we didn't want. 

Squid stuffed with ham and cheese in Kotor. A local specialty and a major treat for us. 

Sometimes when you treat yourself (above squid dish) it means you need to be a bum the next day. Here is some over-boiled pasta and sauce from a jar that we packed for lunch as we hitch hiked down the coast of Montenegro. It tasted terrible. 

Where are all the women? And other Eastern Turkey horrors.

Greetings from Tatvan on Turkey's Republic Day!

Tatvan is a city of 100, 000 people on the West coast of Turkey's biggest lake, Van Golu. There isn't too much international tourism in this city. We have been here for two days and I think we are celebrities of sorts. Plenty of people (mostly children) have been running up to us to practice their English, which consists or "Hello", "where are you from?", "my name is....." Each statement is then repeated with little or no pause for us to answer. We woke up this morning to the sound of a marching band, having a last minute practice before their big Republic Day Parade. The parade was essentially all school children wearing their respective school uniforms. A few teachers looked annoyed that their students were more interested in posing for the city's two tourists (us) than practising their songs and maintaining their formation.

Eastern Turkey has been a stark contrast to Western Turkey: Minimal tourism. Maximum misogyny. It has become pretty commonplace for men to just ignore me and look directly to Zack for a conversation or information. Also, where are all the women? The streets of Eastern cities are pretty bustling, with lots of outdoor cafe space to drink cay and socialize, but you can't help but wonder, where are all the women? It's like a an episode of the Twilight Zone where women are kept in jars or something. There are groups of men everywhere, of all ages - young boys playing soccer, teenage boys up to "no good", and endless clusters of older men chain smoking and drinking tea, but very few women. I like to hope they are having a blast chatting with one another in their homes, doing really fulfilling work that brings them joy and challenges them. I have my doubts. 

I've developed a highly scientific strategy for assessing a region's level of women's liberation. Knitting stores. 

A city with none or minimal knitting stores = liberal. City with a knitting store on every corner = oppression, minimal rights, child brides. See how this works?  

Women's oppression and religiousity aside, Eastern Turkey has been pretty wonderful. Van Golu, Mount Ararat, Mount Nemrud (really a volcano) are each enough to take your breath away. In Van Golu there is an Island that has a 1200 year old Armenian church on it. We headed out (on a boat full of men) to the Island. Imagine our giddy excitement when we found out that the church is called Zacharias and is covered in etchings and paintings of wildlife. I'm not one to get excited about churches, but this was a beauty. 

A palace dining room. 

Sunset at Van castle, some hooligans showed us a hole in the fence so we didn't have to pay to get in.  

Ferry ride Akdamar Island. 

Zachary in front of Zacharias church

The view from the church. Lake Van is gorgeous and one of it's claims to fame is  a special cat breed that has different coloured eyes and loves swimming. Also in Van lake you can do you laundry without soap because of high chemical content. 

Wildlife pictures on the church. 

Another interesting thing about our time in Eastern Turkey is that it happened to fall on Bayram, the four-day holiday surrounding Eid. On the first day of Bayram, families slaughter either a sheep or a cow. We knew this was the practice but were not at all prepared to see what we saw that morning in Erzurum (a very religious city.) We woke up on the morning of day one and wanted to go shopping to buy me some new pants (I lost the only pair I had on the trip.) Not only were all the stores closed (rookie mistake) but the city was a complete ghost town. Nobody was out on the usually busy streets and instead, there were cow and sheep parts everywhere! Every dumpster was full of innards and dogs were munching on legs and ears. The streets were literally running with blood (see photo.) We even came across a group of men (obviously) hosing down a severed cow head. 

Burger King was giving out flags to children to celebrate Bayram. Irony not lost on us. 

I'll spare you the picture of intestines and severed heads.