Welcome to Kurdistan

Kurdistan is an eruption of impressions, cultural differences, flavours, and sights I hadn’t prepared myself for in any way. In the midst of relocating to a different continent, and the chaos that ensues (every time, I believe), we’ve tried to maintain the two things we both need to stay stable, sane, and strong: going to the gym and eating healthy. 

The former of the two was easily solved when we found a supermarket down the road from our apartment that sells training equipment. About a week and a half ago, we bought a treadmill, a bench press, and a few weights for a quarter of any Western price I’ve ever seen, and man, oh, man, was I thrilled. Running again, after nearly two weeks of no exercise at all, has been marvellous, and on my birthday five days ago, I got a brand new pair of running shoes. The Adidas shop on Salem street is neither licensed, nor as fancy as any European running shoe store - but they had a pair that fit me, and fit me well.

“They take in the stuff that’s made for the Indonesian market,” Ariz translated to me as I tried on the neon pink and black running shoes, “so it’s like - second-grade Adidas.” We both laughed, I skipped around the shop in the wonderful things, and paid the $60 they cost. I’ve run every day since then.

Second on our list of health and sanity, there’s food. Anyone who’s ever had a kebab, a falafel, or any other typically Middle Eastern dish will know that one ingredient brings them all together, and that, my friends, is fat. When we first came here, it felt as if my love handles grew by the minute, and everything that was put in front of us had a fat content higher than McDonald’s put together. So we’ve done what we did in Australia: we buy the ingredients in the wonderfully smelly and magical bazaar, and cook our delicious, wholesome food at home. I’m not giving up the samosas they have here, though - those things are delicious.

All in all, we’re slowly coming back into routine. I’m starting to think of our home gym as our actual gym, and my longing for the fancy machinery at Aqualife is starting to fade. And when Ariz puts delicious dishes like his chilli con carne in front of me for dinner, it’s hard not to feel like I’m at home.