It is the middle of Ramadan, and I have landed in Northern Iraq. It is ten degrees (Fahrenheit) cooler here than the hottest temperatures ever recorded in Death Valley. I compare everything to Goma – views, temperature, security rules – which is silly because Goma is a completely different world. Erbil is more Kinshasa so far. Paved roads and cars. I went to the grocery store to stock the fridge. Brief moment of panic when I couldn’t find cheeses, but then, there they were. And Peter Pan peanut butter. Dried apricots and almonds. I went to a party my first night here and stayed out until 5 a.m. because that was only 10 p.m. for my jetlagged body. I hung photos of best friends up on my bedroom wall and slept in pants tailor made for me when I lived in Uganda.
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