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.