I walked to the booth to have my passport stamped. The officer not allowed me to proceed further on foot. A Kurdish with his nephew who waited after me then offered me a ride in his car. We crossed over a bridge spanning the Tigris river before stopping at the next immigration building, only a mere 200m from the booth where I was not allowed to walk. He handed over our passports to the counter and we sat in a relatively luxurious hall, before my name was called after 30 minutes.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Travel.’
‘Only travel?
‘Yes.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Dohuk and Erbil.’
‘……’
‘……’
‘Welcome to our country.’
‘Thank you.’
Then I was granted a 10-day visit visa, as easy as chips. We returned to the car and drove away, passing underneath a big archway. I glanced back and a group of phrases appeared to my sight - ‘Welcome to Iraq’.
 |
| Welcome to Iraq |
Hmmm…not much thing to say and don’t know what to say as well. Wish me good luck!
1 comment:
Eager to read your coming blogs in Iraq
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