Kurdistan: Day 17, Dohuk to Silopi

My final day in Iraq and my final day in Kurdistan, at least on this trip. I'm leaving behind Dohuk which is a nice city, with a few nice modern residential areas and new parks. Unfortunately Dohuk says goodbye in a funny way - with lots of rain. At a fork in the road, take the road to the right. The trucks go left. Both roads go to Zahok, and the border.

As I enter Zahok, the views are fantastic. Quite a bizarre feeling looking at the flat plain surrounded by green mountains, linking Iraq, Turkey and Syria! Again, very nice to whiz by hundreds of cars and trucks waiting on the border as I take the express lane out of Iraq. Before I leave though, I get my first delicious Turkish meal which is more in tune with my tastes.

The border guards in Iraq and Turkey are curious and friendly, and the Turkish customs don't spend more than 7 seconds questioning me on my luggage. What I assumed was the Turkish passport control turns out to be a toll gate, and my invitation inside is just for some free coffee and a friendly chat. I even had a chance to collect the tolls from the truck drivers! It was nice to see a gorgeous Turkish woman working in passport control, with no headscarf!

Some of the kids just outside Turkish passport control weren't particularly friendly, trying to pull me off my bike when I wouldn't give them money! Another boy a few km's down the road attempted to throw a rock. Was this still Kurdistan? It was like another world in terms of friendliness.

Later that day, it was nice to meet a friendly Iraqi Kurd refugee in Silopi who had me over for dinner. A final gesture of hospitality from the middle east before I took my bus for Istanbul, and Europe, the next day. Another world altogether.

Kurdistan: Day 16, Dohuk

A lazy day in Dohuk reading a captivating book on middle eastern history by Robert Fisk. Highly recommended!

Kurdistan: Day 15, Akre to Dohuk

The rolling green hills have opened up to a flat plain and some very nice tailwind. However, it's definitely been one of my most uncomfortable days in terms of the standard of driving. I wish I had a mirror today on these narrow roads.

Rather interesting to come within 30km of Mosul, one of the most dangerous cities in the world, especially after hearing about multiple bombings there that day. No matter, it doesn't seem like much trouble from Arab Iraq will be getting through the multiple checkpoints into Kurdish Iraq.

Halfway through the day, the road splits. One for Dohuk, and the other is a more direct road to Zahok which the trucks all use, and is flatter. Take the road for Dohuk, no matter what. It's much wider, much safer, a much better surface, much more scenic, and a little more difficult over the hills.

It was nice to meet some travellers at the hotel that night, a couple of German guys who had come specifically to Iraq and were trekking around a little bit. They shared very funny story that night of a bus ride that took them out of the massive US army Kurdistan checkpoint and a little too close for comfort to the disputed city of Kirkuk. It seems that neither Kurdish soldiers nor American soldiers will prevent you from entering Arab Iraq, even accidentally!

Kurdistan: Day 14, Akre

"Back in 1991, during the Kurdish revolution, over 100 helicopters from Israel came and took away about 2000 Jews from this town." Nawzar continued. "Some of the Jews thought they were being taken to Europe, and some of them weren't happy when they found themselves in Israel." It was quite an amazing story. As the story goes, back in 1975 Nawzar's parents had fled to Iran after his father had participated in a failed Kurdish uprising the year before. The Kurds continued to be persecuted, and contributed to Arab Iraq's defeat in the late 80's in a long war against Iran. Following the US attack on Arab Iraq in 1991, the Peshmerga (Kurdish militia) were successful against Saddam Hussein, and commanded control of northern Iraq. Kurds I've spoken to insist that this liberation was enacted out by the Kurds in 1991 and not by the Americans in 2003! This area forms only a small part of Kurdistan, which was carved up after World War 1, and was divided over Turkey (20 million Kurds), Iran (10 million, Iraq (5 million) and Syria (3 million). Now Iraqi Kurdistan is the first and currently only Kurdish region to be autonomous and largely independent.

So why isn't Iraqi Kurdistan its own country, since the Arabs in southern Iraq are now disunited? One Kurd I spoke to put this down to oil, Kurdistan's key to post-war recovery. Without cooperating with the Arabs in southern Iraq and staying in federation with Iraq, oil-rich Kurdistan may have no other access to the sea to export the oil. Especially when its neighbours Syria, Iran and Turkey are trying to prevent their own portions of Kurdistan breaking away. Helping Iraqi Kurdistan export its oil may come back to haunt these three countries, especially if Iraqi Kurdistan aids separatist movements like the PKK in Turkey...

Nevertheless, even though a violent history exists between Arabs and Kurds, there were plenty of Arab tourists from Baghdad at Sipa waterfall in Akre. Re-educating the Arabs on attitudes towards Kurds? The disputed city of Kirkuk remains a hot spot for violence between Kurds and Arabs, along with Mosul.

War veterans in Kurdistan, like Nawzar's father, are now treated as national heroes and now receive benefits from the Kurdish government, such as housing and education.

A hilltop view over Akre showed that a massive re-vegetation project had been underway for more than five years. The aim was 2000 trees every year. Most of the surrounding hills were now covered by very young trees. On another hill stood a castle, only 70 years old, which had housed Saddam's army in Akre, apparently so feared by the Kurds that they were afraid to look at the castle for fear of being taken away by night. The castle now houses the poor, and I must have spotted a hundred satellite dishes when I visited! There are plans to tear down the castle, replacing it with the new government headquarters. New government buildings are dotted all over the city, Some of them being architecturally very impressive.

Kurdistan: Day 13, Khalifan to Akre, 75km

Relaxing is hardly the word I would use to describe today's ride. Rather tiring it was, with the constant ups and downs.

Not tiring enough that I couldn't defend myself against a mad donkey though. A year ago, the cartoon picture of a donkey was my logo for my 'mad ass' trip around the world, and today he wanted his revenge. But after a pathetic attempt to charge me, followed by a short standoff, I had the feeling he was a chicken. The sound of the taser probably had something to do with it. I charged him in return, and he bolted off with a fart or two. The dip-shit-of-an-ass made a couple of lacklustre counter charges. The goats thought he was a bit silly too.

After checking the news on my phone, I tried to call my dad on Skype. It didn't quite work too well, and he misinterpreted all the sound of the cars and wind in the background as guns shooting, rockets firing, and grenades exploding. If I had made the call from Europe it might have been a different matter altogether. Iraq does conjure up some scary images for Westerners. No matter, the issue was soon resolved. I then checked my email and discovered I would be meeting my Norwegian friend in Istanbul in a few days, completely unexpectedly. All this while riding my bike though the mountains of Iraq, listening to Metallica, and tracking my position, speed and altitude via my phone's GPS. Ahhhh, the joys of technology! The only thing left, will be for video calls via Skype, so my friends and family can watch where I'm riding while talking to me, anywhere in the world, even Tibet!

As I neared Akre, I encountered a few dangerous drivers intent on driving past as close as possible on an empty road. However, this was nothing compared to the soldier I encountered at the checkpoint 5km before Akre. While all other soldiers had been friendly and polite, this one decided he was going to be a prick. He started with an absurdly stringent physical pat down, then requested to check all my luggage. When he began to act aggressively, pulling things of out my bags himself and dumping them on the road, I snapped at him and he quickly backed off. He subsequently heard a few creative English expressions for the next 10 minutes. After searching all my bags, except one that he missed (the one with all the bombs en route to Al Qaeda), he finally returned my passport and pissed off. The wanker also missed my taser.

I spent the evening with Nawzar, who was also an English teacher at the school in Soran. After another delicious meal prepared by his sister, I had another peaceful and relaxing night.

Kurdistan: Day 12, Soran to Khalifan, 15km

Another visit to the university, but this time to teach! I was taking the second year students for 2 hours, all 40 of them. These students had a reasonably good ability in English conversation, but like many Kurdish English speakers the pronunciation of most vowels were rather different to a native English speaker. By the end of the class they were producing some rather different vowels which they found rather amusing. For me, it's encouraged me to consider teaching English at some point in the next few years, and contacting a school directly seems to be feasible proposition. For this school, gaining access to a native speaker has been difficult, and English language agencies perhaps haven't established themselves here to the same extent as I have seen in China (even with comparable salaries). I'm sure the situation will be the same in many other developing countries.


I made a few other visits to classes, including some silent visits, and noticed a more committed, interested, and active class than I've seen in other Western classrooms. The teachers taught in an interactive, participatory manner and no students seemed to have dozed off like I had in the past in my classes.

I rode my bike that afternoon in the mud and rain through the 'Grand Canyon' of the Middle East, to the village of Khalifan. The ride was spectacular, as was my bicycle's new paint job. I stayed the night with Karmand, the head of the English department. I was told not to worry about my bike since almost everyone in the village was his cousin! After a delicious meal, we joked about the news on BBC about Gordon Brown and his 'bigot' mistake.  The evening was peaceful and relaxing, much needed as I near the end of my journey.

Kurdistan: Day 11, Soran

A visit to the university in Soran was rather interesting. I was introduced to a few English classes, and participated in some question-and-answer sessions. By far the most popular question was "What do you think of Kurdistan/Kurdish people?". There were questions on my journey and on Western culture, particularly about women in Western society. I got the impression that many of boys (who formed a majority in the class) thought it was absurd that many women work, and that many men share the household chores. "So who takes care of the children?" one asked. By this point, Iran definitely seemed more Westernised than Kurdistan.

Kurdistan: Day 10, Erbil to Soran

What was supposed to be a quick dash to the residence office to extend my tourist visa prior to leaving Erbil, turned into a bureaucratic nightmare. I arrived with an American I met at the hotel the day before. Before long we worked out that checkpoint 1 was the photocopy machine. Checkpoint 2 was a form collecting stand, checkpoint 3 was room 3 for some stamp, checkpoint 4 was room 17 for another stamp...2 hours later we were up to about checkpoint 10 at room something-or-another, for another stamp.

This is where it got interesting, in a rather dull sort of way. The American was told to go to room 17. And me? Room 11, where a large 'queue' (read: mass of men) awaited. These impatient men weren't waiting their turn however, they were waiting for their passports to reappear from the window for collection, and in the process blocking the path for others to hand their own passport in. Push and shove was required here. It appeared that by chance, the American had jumped the queue due a friendly English speaking staff member, and had gained about an hour on me! No matter, after 4 hours I finally had my new stamp, on one of the 5 new pages I had remaining in my passport (even though it was a small stamp).

Ahhhh, but there was a problem. Throughout the day I had been told I would receive a 5 day visa extension, then 4 days, then 1 week. In the end it was 3 days, in REPLACEMENT of the 4 days I still had remaining on my current visa. More than just a minor problem. After hunting down the only English speaking staff member, the problem was quickly rectified with a 1 week exte....no wait....2 week extension. Even up to the last second before stamping my passport they still hadn't made up their mind!

After a free, freshly squeezed orange juice at the bus station (despite my protests), I said my farewell to Erbil with mixed feelings. However, for a Western expat I imagine it would be one of the more comfortable developing countries to work in.

I spent the evening in Soran (aka Diana), where I had left my bicycle days earlier. After a delicious traditional meal at Talib's home, I had a friendly, translated discussion with Talib's friend about social issues in Kurdistan. Apparently, affordability of housing was a problem due to large increases in recent years. Some Kurds have returned in recent years from Western countries, to live in Kurdistan, bringing reasonable amounts of money with them. Just to mention some numbers, I learned that a friend had just built his house for US$60,000 plus US$20,000 for land, housing 5 or 6 family members.

Talib and his friend also believed the strong family unit that was part of Kurdish culture was under threat with the recent but significant exposures to Western culture.  Apparently, satellite TV and billboards advertising Western products have become far more popular since 2003.

Kurdistan: Day 9, Erbil

A rest day today, working on the blog.

Kurdistan: Day 8, Erbil

Where are all the women in Erbil? Look out onto the street, and you may be lucky to spot a single woman among dozens of men. Apparently the situation is different in the more liberal city of Sulaymaniyah. I did find part of the answer in Erbil's old bazaar. Lots of women. Although I wasn't sure whether many of them were Turkish tourists. While on the subject, many Kurds aren't sure whether I'm a Turkish tourist. They're many thousands of kilometres wrong.

A hunt for postcards turned out to be a disappointment. My whole purpose in coming to Iraq was down the drain. No matter, my new hotel owner suggested that I could use an ATM cash machine here for my VISA or MasterCard. At long last! After two months of no ATM's and the cash running very very low.

That night I was treated to dinner out with the hotel owner and his friend. And beer! Real German beer! Funny enough, I'll probably meet these two in Sweden in two months. Both had lived for numerous years in England and Holland, and had come back to open businesses. One was due to pick up his new English passport in a few weeks.

Kurdistan: Day 7, Erbil

Fortunately I had some contacts though couchsurfing and people I had met in my first couple of days in Iraq, otherwise Erbil might have been a lonely place. I hadn't been in a city for a while, and I had forgotten that I don't really like the impersonal nature of cities, which seemingly holds even in the most friendly and hospitable of countries.

As it was a Friday, most shops were closed. Friday's are usually a great day to ride the bike as the trucks are often off the roads, replaced by friendly picnicking families. I met with a friend and we went out to the Martyr Sami Abdul Rahman Park. The park was named after the deputy PM killed along with many politicians in a suicide bombing in 2004 (one year after the war ended in Kurdistan). My friend suggested that security in Kurdistan has been increased ever since, and as a result Kurdistan is now a very safe country.


The park is an amazing accomplishment. In a capital where power cuts occur every morning, this world class garden was massively popular, with hoards of families enjoying the never-ending roses, outdoor cinemas, fountains, and lakes. And this place used to be Saddam's army base in Erbil? Everyone I meet has the same impression and attitude. That Iraqi Kurdistan is a free country, that Iraqi Kurdistan is on the up economically, and that the massive foreign investment, increasing every year, has created the mini Dubai that is Erbil. There is a positive vibe everywhere.

It's a rather interesting contrast to Iran, where the infrastructure was more advanced, where it's more acceptable and common for women to be out and about (very uncommon in Erbil), and where relationships before marriage are more common. And where living is more affordable in comparison to wages. Yet Iraqis and Iranians I spoke to viewed Iraq as having more freedom, and with a lot of criticism levelled towards the Iranian government. Sure, some activities in Iran aren't officially sanctioned, such as drinking and relationships, but they seemed more common Iran nonetheless, at least amongst those who wanted to engage in these activities.

Kurdistan: Day 6, Soran to Erbil

"So, how can we help you?" asked the police translator, who I later found out was a computer engineer but was for some reason working for the police as a lieutenant. Hmmm, I didn't quite get it. I thought I had been summoned to the police? Turned out to be just a friendly chat, a tea, and an offer to help me out with with money exchange in town and the purchase of a sim card (KOREK, $18 with 10 days unlimited slow internet). Quite amusing sitting in the police car watching Kurdish music videos, running around in the rain doing my shopping with them. They dropped me off at the bus station, bought my ticket, refused payment, and said goodbye. The Iraqi Kurds are even more fierce with their 't'aarof' (one aspect being gift offering by a host) than the Persians.


A fast bus ride through the gorge, in the rain, and before long I was in the Iraqi Kurdistan capital of Erbil, in front of the spectacular walled hilltop citadel, with the appealing month-old fountain as the foreground. The honeymoon was over in a jiffy though, as I checked into the crappiest cheap hotel of my life. $9 for the worst accommodation I had ever seen. $9 for an average meal that would have been three or four dollars in Iran. Ahhhh, but I was back in the lands of the $1 shwarma, otherwise known as kebab or souvlaki in many Western countries. Very good.

Kurdistan: Day 5, Piranshahr to Soran, 86km

The border between Iran and Iraq. 

Trucks were parked by the road from my standpoint all the way to the end of the visible road.

A spectacular view of the snow mountains on the border awaited me the next morning, along with the kebab for breakfast. I said a farewell to my excellent host Salam, and a couple of hours later a farewell to perhaps my favourite country of these travels, Iran.

On my steep uphill to the 1800m high Haji Omaran border, I had passed hundreds and hundreds of parked trucks, waiting to go into Iraq. Some were fuel tankers, others were car carries, with cars that I hadn't seen on the roads in Iran, including American Chryslers. However for me on my bicycle, immigration was a breeze, and the police were as helpful as ever.

Immigration on the Iraqi side was a little slower, although the free 10-day visa was welcome. Unlike Iran, there were a few more questions, a trend which has continued for my stay in Iraq. The police and army in Iraq and Iran have always been friendly and helpful, except when I came out of my interview to find an Iraqi army official riding my bike! I wasn't happy, and after discovering he had broken the phone holder I gave him a piece of my mind. Still dissatisfied after his three kiss-on-the-cheek sorry gesture, I was happy to get started on the long downhill. A race against a bus proved less successful than it had on the mountain roads of Yunnan, China, many months ago on the first leg of my bicycle travels. The sealed but patchy road surface here required a little more caution.

After an amusing incident with a car, where we had both been on the wrong side of the road, I finally arrived in the village of Choman. Some friendly interaction over lunch with the locals resulted in a conversation in Swedish with one man! He had lived in Sweden for 17 years, England for 6, and had now returned to his homeland for a little retirement, and business. Numerous Kurds I was to meet in Iraq had followed this pattern. Kurdistan was now the place to be for business.

The afternoon was a tiring, windy, but 'gorge'ous downhill with some single-handed riding while video shooting. The dogs were a little lacklustre and barely gave chase. I was surprised to find a theme park located in this mountain gorge setting, and a  quick photo turned into lots of conversation, and a bed for the night in the guards quarters. I had almost closed my eyes when the police came along, and after some discussion with the park owner I was told I had an interview with the police the next morning.

Kurdistan: Day 4, Oshnavieh to Piranshahr, 50km

Piranshahr looked beautiful, covered by a thin layer of fog the next morning.

It wasn't too hard to motivate myself to leave the dirty mosaferkhaneh the next morning. On a previous occasion, in southern Iran, finding a mosaferkhaneh had been a God-send (or an Allah-send) as it saved me from having to use my tent in the wet. On that occasion, I had the one-room mosaferkhaneh all to myself.

A short ride 50km to Piranshahr over some slightly hilly terrain was over by lunchtime. Merging with the busier main highway before Piranshahr suggested that the route through Oshnavieh had been a good choice.

Via couchsurfing.com, I had found a host by the name of Salam Salimi in Piranshahr. He turned out to be a very friendly 29 year old jeweller, who had only created a profile on couchsurfing a few days earlier. Coincidently, he had met or hosted a few travellers I had met in Iran a few weeks earlier, including Lukas on a motorcycle and Gaetan on a bicycle.

Salam spoke English well and was keen to meet travellers, all of whom would be passing through Piranshahr to or from Iraq. I was introduced to his English teacher, and some very interesting conversations followed while having a stroll on a hill overlooking the town with a population of 40 thousand.

Apparently, Piranshahr had its own fair share of 'tycoons', ten to fifteen of them, who had been very successful in business and would occasionally take long business trips to China. Some of these tycoons had began taking English lessons but had dropped out due to their busy workloads. No matter, some attractive female translators would be awaiting them in China. Surprisingly, even Kurdish is spoken by some Chinese (ladies), as an Iraqi Kurd later told me, gleefully describing his sex escapeed with a Kurdish speaking Chinese girl during his recent business trip to China.

Also on discussion was the 'problem' of the desire for young men and women to be free to have relationships. It wasn't so much a problem that sexual relationships before marriage were illegal, for it was easy enough to find a discrete location. According to the English teacher, the problem was that most men then later expected their brides to be pure and clean. Apparently Tehran has overcome this problem of 'unreasonable expectation'. Numerous Iranians and Iraqis spoke about Tehran as THE place to go to meet a girl.

An invitation to a late night English lesson produced many questions about Australia, particularly about immigration. I've now become a little more experienced in dispelling the myths of living in Australia and living the 'good life'.

Kurdistan: Day 3, Orumieh to Oshnavieh, 79km

According to my good German map (and it is very very good, waterproof and rip-proof!), I was to take a 'shortcut' off the main road, from Orumieh to Oshnavieh on my way to Piranshahr and the Iraqi border. As it turned out, this was the way all the locals went anyway. The hotel staff in Orumieh had told me I was going through a JUNGLE! I guess for most Iranians, a few upright sticks with leaves is a jungle. Some trees, a forest, a jungle...it's all the same.

The 79km route was beautiful, through valleys and over hilly mountains, with shades of green rivalling Ireland. The road was good and the traffic light, with a very steady uphill and a steep downhill, although the headwind prevented any real fun on the downhill. A friendly encounter with a Kurdish family in the middle of no-where involved a few English worlds, a few Farsi (Persian/Iranian) words, and a number of photos. The standard interaction on the road in Iran, except the tea was missing. Always a fun experience though, especially when a free tea, lunch, or sleepover is included. Even the Kurdish wife wanted a photo, which seemed a little different to the usual behaviour of Kurdish women who seemed even more shy and reserved than the Persian women.

A late lunch in Oshnavieh turned into an invitation to stay from the shopkeeper, Behzad, who turned out to be 18. After a short visit to his place, and an introduction to his young friend, there was some extended conversations in Kurdish with his mother and his friend. What was going on? There was some talk about the hotel in town, and I got  the feeling that the invitation to me was about to be revoked. A visit to the police with Behzad to 'register' his foreign guest was rejected, and I was instructed to stay at the hotel. I later got the picture that Behzad's friend was part of the Basij, the young volunteer's army, known among travellers for their suspicion towards travellers (even when the police are not). No matter, it was finally a chance for me to stay at a mosarferkhaneh, an Iranian hostel, except not the Western kind where young male and female travellers share dorm rooms and run around in their underwear. Rather, a hostel for men only, old and seedy men.

Kurdistan: Day 2, Orumieh

Nice to see some South Park at a Kindergarten in Iran

Cartoons and caricatures feature heavily in Iranian media & advertising. 

Most of it is locally created, with a few exceptions...

It takes quite a sleep-in to recover from a 20 hours bus ride with almost no sleep followed immediately by a 150km bike ride. Same restaurant, same food, no questions asked. They had plenty more on their menu, but that's ok; anything but shish-kebab! I think it was khoresht, a stew of beef and beans with a delicious tomato base. Finding a restaurant in Iran which doesn't only serve kebab can be a struggle. I don't know why. There are plenty of great Iranian dishes (mostly stews) served at home, but Iranians go crazy over shish-kebab when they (rarely) eat out!

It turned out to be good decision to rest for the day, as the rain was rather active in the afternoon. I finally sent out my 3rd postcard of my entire trip that afternoon, as well as my 29th (yes, do the math). It seemed a bit silly, considering I'd be sending everyone postcards again in a week from Iraq (THE destination to send a postcard from!), however in hindsight it was a good idea; it's still a little difficult to find postcards in Iraq.

Kurdistan: Day 1, Tabriz to Orumieh, 150km

I woke up a bit dazed and confused, sure that it would be another 6 hours of crap sleep on the overnight bus before I arrived. Alas, I was wrong; I was in Tabriz. The snow mountains in the distance confirmed my destination. The friendly Iranian staff had my bike and panniers safely off the bus and I was ready to go, before an Persian girl demanded my attention. As it turned out she was 20, a university student, knew barely a word of English and within the space of a 20 minutes she wanted to take me home to her town 100km away. It didn't quite match my itinerary, direction or style so we said goodbye. Two hours later arrived the sms "I am in college. I love you very much". It was the second time in a week this had happened to me.

A beautiful tailwind and downhill allowed a mighty speedy exit from the big city, even though I was a bit rusty from a 6-week rest, and tired from the long bus trip. It wasn't long before the roads were quiet and I was riding through the middle of a dry salt lake. Although the map showed a direct road between Tabriz and Orumieh, the signs (and locals) indicated a different story. A minor 29km detour.

No matter, I stopped for lunch and met my first Azari in Iran. While Persians make up the majority in Iran, the Azaris account for a fair 25% chunk of the population. The kind Azari man provided me with a lunch of bread and a gas-heated can of tuna. Along with another can of tuna, I should have been charged about $3 (3000 tomans or 30,000 rials). Fortunately, he engaged in the Iranian custom of etiquette called "t'aarof", one aspect being that the merchant will refuse payment. Unfortunately (for the first time in Iran), I was stung in the ass and after playing along and saying "no, no, I really must pay", he 'reluctantly' asked for $5. Only a few minutes earlier, he had asked about a work visa to Australia and then later offered that I stay for the night. It was perhaps the only time I had been asked for a visa while in Iran, and the first time I had been cheated. Despite this incident though, Iran had been a welcome change to Nepal in almost every way.

The 29km detour just prior to lake Orumieh was very scenic and very green in comparison with southern and central Iran, although just a taste of what was to come in the following two weeks in Kurdistan. A 25km ride along the bridge and causeway over the salty lake Orumieh was beautiful but tiring. My 6-week break from cycling wasn't working out for my legs by now.

My first encounter with dogs for many many months occurred immediately after the lake, in Kurdistan. They weren't too intimidating though, and the sound of a zap from the Taser was enough to stop them in their tracks. With every dog so far in Kurdistan, stopping and getting off the bike has been enough to discourage close contact. I suspect the dogs in Turkey won't be so easy from the stories I've heard from other cyclists. After some very close encounters in China and Nepal, I've had dreams of 'dogfights'. I won't hesitate to rip a dog apart from limb to limb to save my own ass. Throwing a rock or two (while stationary) should be more than enough to discourage most dogs though.

After about 150km, I finally navigated my way past numerous packs of dogs and arrived in Orumieh at night. A $15 'splurge' on a nice hotel was much needed. As usual in Iran, the staff were more than happy to help out in any way, and escorted me to a restaurant down the street and waited until I was finished, then offered to pay!

Fun and Games in Oman

Just a very short snippet from my February 2010 trip to Oman, as a side trip on my way to from China to Europe.

The highlights included the biggest thunderstorm and flood in 30 years, with some friendly lightning a few hundred metres away. Also included in this personalised package was a beautiful coastal road along some big cliffs and a two day ride over a mountain which was too steep to ride up. We were only 20km from our destination (on our 400km loop) when we were stopped at a military checkpoint and politely taken back over the mountain by the military. We had to ride back 200km to Dubai on the same road haha. At least in the dry this time.

Fun and games...