why baghdad feels like a marathon with no finish line

i didn’t plan to write this much but here we are. it started with a crossroads where i thought maybe i’d get coffee. instead, i got lost in a maze of streets that smelled like old bread and something i can’t place. the weather is 3.5 degrees, which is basically a fridge with a personality. i just checked and it’s there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. the air is thick, the humidity clings to your skin, and somehow, the sun feels like it’s conspiracy to melt your soul. i’m a marathon runner, so this is my natural habitat, but even i’m questioning why i chose this.

there’s a map thing here. you can find it if you care.

it’s not pretty. the coordinates are random, i guess. i found them in a notebook from a guy who claimed to be a time traveler. he also said the best pizza is in a place called al-jazeera, but i haven’t found it yet. maybe it’s a myth. or maybe it’s real. who knows.

the neighbors are... different. not in a scary way. more like, they’re there. always there. if you get bored, the markets are just a short drive away. i heard that from a local who was definitely not sober. they spoke in riddles about a place called the souk of whispers. i think it’s a market. or a cult. i’m not sure. but the guy had a passport. that’s something.

i heard that the coffee here is either amazing or terrible. someone told me that. another person claimed the streets are haunted by a guy who used to run marathons. i don’t know if that’s true. but i did see a guy running circles around a bench. he looked desperate. maybe he was practicing for a race. or maybe he was just lost. either way, he was a good story.

reviews? oh, the reviews. i heard that the locals are unreliable. one woman said the food is so good you’ll cry. another said it’s a trap and you’ll regret every bite. a drunk taxi driver warned me about a restaurant named the shadow palace. he said the owner is a former spy. i didn’t believe him, but now i’m half-convinced. i’ll need to check theBaghdadTripAdvisor later. maybe.

i brought a map. it’s obvious. but the map doesn’t help with the weather. i packed layers, a hat, and a water bottle that’s 90% sweat. the humidity is 80%, which is like being hugged by a damp sweater. i’m not sure if that’s good or bad. i’m a marathon runner, so i guess it’s part of the game. but i also almost fainted during my last run. that’s not typical.

there’s an unsplash photo here. it’s of a street scene.

it’s not great. the lighting is bad, but it’s real. that’s the point. another photo shows a runner in the middle of a sprint.

and the third is a close-up of a coffee cup.

i didn’t take these. i just found them online. probably.

someone told me that the best way to survive here is to blend in. don’t ask questions. don’t show weakness. but i did ask questions. i asked about the weather, the neighbors, everything. i got answers that made no sense. like, why is the sky purple? i didn’t think it was possible. but maybe it’s a metaphor. maybe the city is trying to tell me something. i don’t know.

i heard that the best advice is to follow the smell of food. it’s not always accurate, but it’s a start. i followed a aroma that led me to a place called baklava heaven. it was a disaster. the owner was yelling in a language i couldn’t understand. i left with a bag of soggy pastries. but at least i had a story.

i’m not sure if this was a good trip. i’m a marathon runner, so I expected some endurance. but this was more about survival. surviving the cold, the smells, the weird people. maybe that’s what makes it real. maybe that’s what makes it worth writing about.

here’s another link. it’s probably useless. but i included it anyway. yelp.com/baghdad-reviews. just click it. don’t. seriously, don’t.

the neighbors are still there. they haven’t left. they’re probably still judging me for not speaking their language. or maybe they’re just bored. i don’t know. i tried to talk to one. he looked at me like i was a ghost. or maybe he was just tired. either way, i left. fast.

i think i’ll end here. maybe. or maybe not. i have a feeling this post is too long. but that’s the point. it’s messy. it’s real. it’s not perfect. and that’s okay. i’m a marathon runner. i run through the chaos. even if it’s just a blog post.

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