For the love of dogs

I have been struggling to figure out exactly what I'd like to write about our time in Iran. As suspected, the 30 days we spent there turned out to challenging and emotional, but also sometimes uplifting. When I say challenging, I don't mean logistically. In fact, thanks to its reliable and involved bus system, the prevalence of spoken English, and the hospitality of the people, it turned out to be one of the easiest places to get around. The hardship people have endured, the abuses of power, and the human rights violations will stay with me forever. Thankfully, so will peoples' resiliency, friendship and kindness.

I was sifting through my pictures of Iran, hoping to pick a few and blog about them. I still plan on posting more about Iran but this one particular photo caught my eye. As many of you know, I love all things canine. I love their personalities, their faces, their loyalty and the joy they have brought to my life over the years. While I don't dislike pure bred dogs, I do have a special place in my heart for rescue dogs and frankly, the more un-wanted the better. I love the three-legged, one-eyed buddies with histories of abuse, who at first seem "unadoptable" but then with the right owner turn into amazing companions. Can you tell I read a lot of blogs about rescue dogs?

I've known for a long time that Islam doesn't approve of dogs, as pets or as any part of society. I also knew that Iran has over the years taken actions to keep their country dog free, including mass zoo-ing of dogs or outright euthanization. I also knew that the Iranian government has a particular hate on for "small-legged" dogs because they are seen as weaker and genetically impure. Here is an article from Time magazine about the government's attempts at banning pet dogs all together.

http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,2065873,00.html

During our time in Iran, we became friends with a hotel owner, dog lover and atheist (surprise!) who was once the founder of a dog shelter. I was so excited to possibly visit his shelter but quickly discovered it had recently been shut down and destroyed by either the government or another party who believed the land was theirs. The details of why his shelter was shut down were lost in translation but the sentiment was not. He proudly showed me dozens of photos of his shelter dogs (each with names and a story) and was devastated to know he could no longer help them.

So back to the one picture that caught my eye and inspired me to write this post. While visiting the shrine of Imam Reza, the absolute most holiest place in Iran, and one of the holiest of Shia Muslims, I spotted this.....

Imagine my excitement! Lord only knows what has happened to this dog but in the holiest place of a religion that has perpetrated so much hate (towards canines and otherwise) he left his mark!. I have high hopes for the people of Iran. I think a new revolution is on the way and I hope they bring some dogs with them.

Here are a few picture of some dog friends I've made in India.

Zack's Home Offices

I have snapped a few photos of Zack while he works. I thought this might make a cute little collection of photos when we are done with the amazing adventure. He has busted out the laptop and worked away in some beautiful and some not to beautiful places (think dirty buses with rain water come through the broken windows.)

He is an amazing writer and his columns are proving to be wonderful souvenirs for both of us. Thankfully I love quiet time and can keep myself busy very easily. Knitting, people watching, colouring in my Kama Sutra colouring book (best Indian souvenir find ever!!) all keep me entertained while he is hard at work. I have missed many opportunities but here are a few.

Taking a few notes while drinking a coffee in Montenegro.

36-hour train ride in Eastern Turkey. Hands down the nicest train we've been on - it was like we had our own apartment.

Rooftop sunset in Jaisalmer, India. 

Putting the finishing touches on a piece at a friend's house in Sofia, Bulgaria. This little friend was in the mood to help Zack procrastinate. 

Roof top over looking the Meenakshi Temple in Madurai, India.

Mosque O.D.

Iran is a very photogenic place - chadors blowing in the wind, creepy dystopian-looking pictures of Khomeini, and Persian rugs being rolled out for prayer all make for stunning images. But nothing is quite as beautiful as the mosques, which can be found on pretty much any street corner in any city. I didn't do a very good job capturing their beauty. I found myself in a picture-taking funk while in Iran, likely because the opulence and power the mosques represent pissed me off or because I was in a constant state of distraction/irritation from having to cover my head, arms and legs. Either way, I didn't get too many great shots but here are mediocre few.

I developed a soft spot for mosques under construction. There are just so many good metaphors to be had. 

The shrine of Immam Reza in Mashhad (well, the entrance.) This is the holiest place in Iran. There is a pure gold dome in an absolutely jaw-dropping complex. Unfortunately there are no cameras allowed inside (except Zach's iPhone, wink wink). We were there at prayer time on a Friday, which was a pretty amazing experience. Seeing hundreds (possibly thousands) of people kneel down in rhythmic prayer at the same time is enough to make anyone stop and think. When entering I was not only frisked but also kissed by several woman who I'm pretty sure were welcoming me and offering me blessings. This was my first of many instances wearing a chador. 

Chador-clad women checking their shoes (bottom right). 

A water fountain dressed up as a mosque.

By day. 

By night.

More construction.

Qom, the most disturbing/fascinating place in Iran. Chadors and Mullahs everywhere.  This is the only place where Zack was asked to tell me to be more decent (ie. put on a chador or cover my head more thoroughly) 

Tiny mosque with Zack in the doorway.

The Rest of Kurdistan

When Zack first suggested we visit Iraqi Kurdistan, my response was "yes...but where is that exactly." Having not read every Hitchens essay (most twice) like Zack, I didn't know much about Iraqi Kurdistan but was willing to give it a go. While our time in Kurdistan was short and served mostly as a bridge between Turkey and Iran, it remains a highlight for me of the trip thus far. 

The landscape was beautiful. The people were hospitable. The economy was polarized and at times bewildering (think terrible poverty right next to an enormous mall selling coffees for eight euros.) The expat community (mostly there to make big bucks in oil) added an interesting flavour. We paid a visit to the American village (there is also a Swedish and Italian village) that had cookie-cutter homes on streets named after each of the states. America village also had a bustling bar, where expats have a few drinks each night and stumble home to Nebraska Avenue, or Utah Crescent. Ironically the bar is owned and operated by a Filipino family.

The Citadel is the main attraction in Erbil. It marks the oldest continuous human city in the world.

The view from the Citadel.

Looking out over the city. 

This is what the side of the road looks like. 

Zack  and our host Zring (not from Alabama.)

Love for America is in the air. I suppose that happens when they save you from a sociopathic dictator who has been torturing and killing your people for generations. 

Stopping to visit a waterfall during our day driving around the countryside. 

Kurdistan loves their colourful scarves.

Wasn't expecting to stumble upon an amusement park while driving through the mountains. 

Difficult to see from the angle, but from the sky this mountain suburb looks like the Kurdistan flag. 

Villages perched on the edge of a gorge. Would make me nervous if I was a parent. 

Roadside BBQ, a VERY common Kurdish tradition. Roads are lined with people grilling and brewing pots of tea. 

Sigh. A wonderful night all alone at Lake Dokan. Since camping is not a thing in Kurdistan, explaining what we were doing and why was a challenge. 

Saddam's compound for political prisoners in Sulaymaniyah
. 

Artistic rendttions of the suffering and sadness that happened in these cells.  

Late night meat stand. 

I really liked men's Kurdish dress, prayer beads and all. 

Juice guy giving me a smile. 

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.