Ma'asalama Iraq

So already my trip is over. I was plotting my return even as the mini-plane began it's spiral combat assent from Baghdad Airport which, in passing, is much flashier than when I was there last October. There's even a sovernier shop where you can buy geeky baseball caps saying "Welcome to the FREE Iraq" along with dusty old cases of coins from the days when Dinars came in a metal format and fractional denominations which were still worth more than a dollar. I bought an Iraqi flag and crate-loads of dates (iraq used to export 90% of the world's supply back in the good old days before oil ruined the economy and everything else).

One theme of the last few days has been blogger meetups. A few days ago I hung with Abu Khaleel's son in Baghdad, then yesterday Majid and Khalid Jarrar introduced me to the wonders of Iraqi icecream (some Riverbend had described to me last year in mouthwatering detail and I was worth the wait), then I searched the city for a decent juice bar with Enzo and today in Amman I munched salad with the most glamourous middle eastern blogging duo, Niki and Raed. It's wonderful realising that typing occassional waffles onto the net draws you into a vast network of some of the most interesting people on the planet. I'm typing this in Books@Cafe, a famous hang-out for Jordanian anglophiles. It's been refurbished since I was last here and really is a splendid venue to eat and email (the connection is much faster now), though the book selection is still as dreadful as ever (the seem to specialise in bulk shipments of just volume three's of obscure trilogies!). I'm killing time now since my flight back to London is tomorrow morning.

It's a hard time to be leaving, with the Marines about to storm Najaf. I'm clearly no Sadrist, but its horrific that the US is happy to slaughter so many Iraqi civilians in order to try and wipe out practically the only person likely to get a significant number of votes in an election. Maybe I should have quit my job and stayed out there, trying to help out in Najaf as Jo Wilding and others did in Falluja. I'm probably not savvy or brave enough to have emulated her, but as always I'm torn apart, unsure what I can do to best help Iraq while balancing my responsibilities in Britain.