First of all, I did not almost die in Baghdad. I was quite safe the whole time. I just said that in reference to an inside joke I had with one of my travel companions, and also because that’s what we think of when we think of Baghdad, right? BOOM.
To be truthful, Baghdad makes Beirut seem like an oasis. Even though Beirut is a mess, there are visible signs of real prosperity and enterprise all around. Baghdad feels forlorn and forgotten by the world. Also, if you think Heathrow airport security is intense, you have no idea. To get on the plane in Baghdad, we had to pass through seven security checks, two of which included sniffer dogs and emptying the taxi of ourselves and our luggage (just FYI, in case you ever go). But unlike at Heathrow, they could care less if you have 2 ml of liquid over the limit. I went through with a full water bottle and all of my toiletries - not once did anyone say anything. The Iraqis have other things to worry about (like actual explosive materials), and I find that refreshing. We’re so obsessed with safety in the West, we rob people of their shampoo. We’re absurd.
Anyway, Baghdad. It’s pretty rundown. But to be fair, it’s been bombed a few times. There are lots of restaurants and plenty of made-in-China-or-Turkey shopping, but not much else. There is a large complex that used to be a theater and then became a hospital and then became a military barracks. Now it’s abandoned and plundered. The square (which is actually a circle) where the infamous scene of angry citizens pulling down the Saddam statue took place is closed off by a makeshift wall. Nothing has been done to redeem the space.
What was once the high street is gloomy when it’s empty of people (we drove through in the afternoon but we’re told commerce is booming in the morning hours). There aren’t any high rises or apartment blocks like we have in Beirut or most other cities. The houses and churches are walled in to protect from car bombs and other explosions.
I wouldn’t thrive here. But I enjoyed seeing the place. And observing my Lebanese travel companions be tourists in a neighboring country was fun for me. Don’t make the mistake of thinking Arabs are all the same across the Middle East. Not so.
One, the Lebanese like to display their wealth, especially wealth they don't have. Drive around Beirut for a day, and you’ll see about 432 Range Rovers, 348 Mercedes/BMWs/Audis, 36 Porsches, 10 Jaguars, 5 Ferraris, and a Maserati or two. The Iraqis drive Kias, Hyundais and Toyota Land Cruisers.
Two, the Lebanese don’t have the same obsession with white cars as the Iraqis apparently do. I’m not kidding: you can step outside, look to the left, look to the right, and count ten white cars within 40 feet of you. Seventy percent of any given parking lot is white. What did our host drive? A white Hyundai.
Three, Lebanese men are notoriously vain (in Beirut there’s a barber shop on every corner, my favorite being one called “House of Handsome” - I’m not making this up), but Iraqi guys…oh my goodness. While the Lebanese favor the immaculate bushy beard, easily 7 out of 10 Iraqi guys look like Arab Johnny Bravos: hair gelled straight up. Hilarity.
Four, foreigners are not exotic to the Lebanese. Probably because most have lived overseas at some point or have family who do. I never get stared at in Beirut. I definitely got stared at in Baghdad. Especially when I inadvertently stepped into a males-only part of a restaurant to look at the fish. Oops.
Five, though the Lebanese are known for their hospitality, I think the Iraqis have them beat. We hit the ground eating and we did not stop eating. There was food and more food, then coffee, then tea, then more food, then more coffee, then more tea. At the end of the trip, my body was dying to come home and return to normalcy. And perhaps Lent.
