Although this was going to be a hateful, angry post where i decidedly would throw away all my hopes, dreams and beliefs, and I would lament Iraq's education system for being so bad that i was forced out. I then gave up and realised "Forget it, it could be worse". Correction, it had been worse.
After screaming, throwing mood fits of rage and depression (all in under 10 hours, I deserve a prize), I decided to follow an old saying, Khaleeha ala allah. (leave it to God). I'm not even that religious, but sometimes its better to stop thinking and well, give up. Just not that type of give up, give up being annoyed and angry.
But, I simply cannot write a post without mentioning the flights to Iraq. open to journalists and politician guys, but try getting a flight and you will end up walking around an airport for hours, after getting told there isnt just a delay, but there's no plane either. You have got to love the organisation of the middle east. And apparently something abut snow storms still looming over the UK.
I am missing Baghdad, the never sleeping city. Here, everything is closed by 5am, whereas the nights I spent wondering Rubaie Street, and flitting between the Blue Sky restaurant and Leymouna almost seems so far away, but next week (hopefully) I will be back walking across Rubaie street at 11pm at night. Oh, I also made a mental comparison between Topshop here and there. Topshop is a trendy high street store here, but it can also be found in Baghdad. :D Where i hear you cry...well, its a small shop outside a mall in Rubaie Street. The name is written in red neon light, and the shop is run by an old guy, and a younger one. Across the street is Leymouna. Around two blocks behind the Juice/Ice cream parlour lies our house. I have to admit, I miss wandering and finding all these small shops with neon lights. I miss Leymouna where i realise I have spent half my life in. I was always made to sit in the chairs in the Middle of the patio , in fear of a kidnap and run scenario, the idea being, sitting in the middle of the shop means kidnappers are less likely to walk into the middle, but would rather kidnap people sitting on the outside. I hope when i return i can safely sit on the outside now.
I also miss the shop called Fast Fries. Not because its food was a culinary masterpiece, it was generally fried fast food. But it was a hotspot for Iraqi youth to hang out. It was basically a comedy everytime I visited. it was a horrible clash of iraqi youth trying to be cool. It didn't work. If you went with your family, you were safe-just about, as long as you have a member of the family who looks relatively intimidating, or glares well. But going on your own, or accompanied by siblings is paramount to disaster. Teens switch quickly between arabic and american slang, and even to the most unobservant onlooker the male conversations revolve around swearwords, and the female conversations revolve around giggling and whispering. In Fast Fries, an over used phrase was "trideen barid?", which literally translates to "do you want cold?", which actually means "do you want a pepsi?". This is actually an example of a chat up line.Yes, read that again and make sure, because its true. If I'm back in time for Valentine's day, I'll make sure to type up some 'love notes' as they call them. A series of ridiculously funny love sayings that us iraqis actually think are romantic, such as "schlon lihhya" ("what a beard"), and "schlon kayka" ("what a cake").
---------includes plots of 300 and meet the spartans------------------------
To take my mind off the fun i am missing while doing work during the iraqi holidays, i watched Meet the Spartans. I have watched 300 before, but the whole complete and utter stereotypical-ness of it made me laugh during many parts. In 300, Hollywood basically throws in every single misconception it has about the East, adds in a greased up male actor and half the world's jewellry, to form a visually cool film, but with a storyline that even an episode of Teletubbies has more originality than.
Meet King Leonidas, brave, greasy, tanned and muscley, with morales that would make Kofi Annan look immoral. Enter his trophy wife who has enough muscles to throw a 50kg metal shield at her husband, and tell him to return victorious or dead on it, but apparently doesn't have enough power to stop herself being blackmailed by the king's right hand man. The story continues, with a Eastern Xerxes, naturally being a sexually frustrated eastern guy, is pictured to be covered in Jewels, and presumably a little gay. Enter Xerxes' fighters, the mutalited easterners...from turbaned ninjas to elephant riding indians, there is no eastern country that this film doesn't go out of its way to insult. I hate political correctness, but clear cut bias makes me actually appreciate that some films like the Valley of the Wolves exists purely to give Hollywood a taste of their own medicine.
Therefore, i really couldn't deprive myself of watching Meet the Spartans, where everything in the film that I had thoroughly laughed at, would be made fun of even more. In Meet the Spartans, roles are reversed, and it is King Leonidas that is now a little gay, with many stereotypical jokes made of this, and although you tell yourself its not funny, you find yourself laughing at the cheapness of this movie, from the references to famous tv programmes, as well as the hip hop style dance off between the persians with the hairy backs, and the spartans and their sprayed on abs. A favourite part was where the movie turned into a scene from the GTA video game, and it took me time to assess whether it was my own imagination.
The jokes were simple, but suprisingly funny at times, to the point where after laughing at them, you mentally scold yourself for being rude/laughing at something that would probably offend a lot of people.Xerxestron with a weird youtube video seemed almost surreal, and made me pause rather than laugh, but the botox overdose that rocky balboa sufferes makes up for the weirdness of xerxestron and the computer generated persian army of 100000.
I talk to one of my cousins online, who is now at the Enternet cafe across from the jeans seller, researching work for her university project. i secretly wonder why, when every time i seemed to visit her classes it involved students sitting swapping pictures and jokes via bluetooth, while a very late professor would rush in and teach in a barely audible voice. The lecture would end, the professor would collapse on a chair and moan of yet more letter threats or check points, and students would walk out into the sun. Yet students still manage to end up with a ridiculous amount of work.
I'm still hooked on the tap water here. I missed it. I physically missed the clearness of it. I smile as i wonder how many years until I see the clear water of the Dijla and Furat flowing through the taps. Okay, off to drink some more water, and wander aimlessly around the house, as I ponder what the rest of the evening will entail.