I keep thinking I will Get Organised And Do A Proper Post About Kurdistan but, quite frankly, if that goes as well as Getting Organised And Sorting Out My Photographs Period, it’ll never happen.
So, on the grounds that something is better than nothing, let me show you some photographs, chosen because I like them and they mean something, and, as my mother says, we’ll make that do.
This lady, who speaks no English, and I, who speaks no Kurdish, have a great affection for each other.
The place where I bought clove necklaces to hang in wardrobes and yarn stashes to keep the beasties away. The man was very smiley in real life. I think this is his camera face.
My beautiful, amazing friend Sazan standing next to the ACTUAL rope of dried *makes note to put in name of thing when she remembers* that now hangs in my kitchen, waiting for me to remember what it’s called so I can find recipes for it.
Dolma. Beautiful dolma. Made for me by the wife of one of the people I was working with, because (I’m sure) they all got absolutely fed up of me banging on about how much I love the stuff. It’s vegetables stuffed with rice and lamb, beautifully spiced, and cooked for a looooong time…… it’s amazing.
Me and a man. I have no idea who he is. I insisted that he have his photograph taken with me for two reasons. (1) So many strangers asked to have a photo with me – because I am so English-looking, and therefore considered lucky – that it seemed like the norm. (2) I was buying the scarf that I’m holding when the man, without a word of English or a hint of creepiness, insisted that I put my money away and paid for it for me. This, and the dolma, are typical of my experience of Kurdistan: a generous, kind-hearted, welcoming place.
Guess what? I’m going back….
And tonight, Alan and I will be at a black tie do in London and I will be giving my jli Kurdi its first airing. Pictures to follow….