A Brief Return to Iraq: Baghdad, Babylon, and Beyond
May 2023: With only a few days to spare before heading to Nepal for a two-week trek in the Mustang Valley, I decided to squeeze in another visit to Iraq. My previous journeys had introduced me to some incredible friends, and this time, I reached out to Bahaa, whom I’d met during my visit to the marshes. He generously offered to host my friend Jimmie and me in his Baghdad home and guide us through central Iraq, including Baghdad, Babylon, and Karbala.
Our journey began uniquely: my travel companion, Jimmie, was also our pilot for the short flight from San Diego to LAX on SkyWest Airlines. After landing, Jimmie quickly swapped his pilot’s uniform for his backpacker gear, transforming instantly from pilot to traveler. From LAX, we boarded a 15-hour Qatar Airways flight, excited to revisit Iraq, even briefly, on our way to a two-week trekking adventure in Nepal’s Mustang Valley.
Returning to a Changing Iraq
When I returned to Iraq in 2023, the country felt noticeably different from my cautious visit in March 2017. Back then, security concerns were high, and visiting independently was complicated. But now, Iraq had simplified its entry process, offering visas on arrival for Americans and other nationalities, making it easy to stop briefly en route to Nepal.
This newfound stability allowed me to relax, reconnect with my friend Bahaa, and visit ancient sites around Baghdad without the constant worry I’d felt previously. While before I’d been wary of safety, this time felt more comfortable—even locals seemed surprised yet pleased to see independent travelers. My friend Jimmie and I drew attention, occasionally mistaken for Kurds or Syrians, highlighting the country’s improved, yet still unusual, environment for international visitors.
Arrival in Baghdad: A New Chapter for Iraq
I landed in Baghdad late in the evening, flying via Doha on Qatar Airways. On board, there were no obvious tourists, but I did meet an American war journalist and his son, returning to see how the country had transformed since the height of the conflict.
The visa-on-arrival process was straightforward and surprisingly quick, a stark contrast from my earlier visits when tensions ran higher. Immigration officers even greeted us warmly, signaling how much Iraq had changed.
Outside, security was still tight—only airport staff and passengers were permitted within the airport walls. My friend Bahaa was waiting about 10 miles away from the terminal, so Jimmie and I took a security-cleared taxi through multiple checkpoints designed to prevent terrorist incidents.
As we drove, I noticed large billboards and murals dedicated to Qasem Soleimani, the Iranian Quds Force general who had been assassinated by a U.S. airstrike three years earlier on this very road. These tributes were a vivid reminder of Iraq’s complex geopolitics, highlighting its close ties to Iran after the U.S. invasion and the fall of Saddam Hussein. Over the next few days, I’d realize just how common these martyr images had become in Shiite neighborhoods, reflecting the deepening bonds between the two countries bound by shared religious identity.
Sign honoring the late Iranian General of the Quds Force, Qasem Soleimani, who only 3 years ago had been assassinated on this very airport road by a US airstrike. The sign also honored the Islamic Clerics or Ayotalhas of Iran
A Warm Welcome in Baghdad
Outside the airport walls, we were warmly greeted by Bahaa and his friend, who enthusiastically welcomed us back to Iraq. They immediately whisked us off to a popular Baghdad restaurant, where we sampled delicious local dishes—a perfect introduction to Iraqi cuisine and the country’s famous hospitality. As we caught up over dinner, it felt great to reconnect after so long.
Later, we drove through the quiet night toward Bahaa’s home, conveniently situated near the ancient ruins of Babylon. The calm night air gave our arrival a surreal feeling. Once settled into Bahaa’s comfortable guest room, I felt a growing sense of excitement: we were staying just minutes away from one of humanity’s oldest cities, and I eagerly anticipated exploring it in the days ahead.
Exploring Ancient Babylon: King Nebuchadnezzar Meets Saddam
The next morning, Bahaa and his friend drove us to the legendary ruins of Babylon, heart of one of history’s earliest and greatest civilizations. Often called the “cradle of civilization,” Iraq is home to ancient societies such as the Sumerians and Babylonians, who founded some of humanity’s first cities along the fertile banks of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.
Babylon itself was once the thriving center of an empire ruled by King Nebuchadnezzar, famed for his conquests, including the capture of Jerusalem, and for building the mythical Hanging Gardens of Babylon, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.
As we wandered the ruins, I noticed an intriguing detail: many of the ancient bricks were stamped with Nebuchadnezzar’s name, but the newer layers bore the imprint of another leader—Saddam Hussein. Seeing Saddam’s name on these bricks was surreal, a reminder of his attempts to align himself with the legendary Babylonian king.
Standing amid these ruins beneath layers of ancient and modern history made for an unforgettable experience, a tangible reminder of Iraq’s complex past.
I am seated before a stone mural of Saddam Hussein near the gates of Babylon. The once-venerated mural, now succumbing to neglect, bears the scars of target practice from AK-47s and RPGs.
Exploring the Ruins of Babylon: Alone in the Ruins
In Iraq, foreign tourists are still uncommon, so nearly every historical site we visited was blissfully empty, offering an intimate experience of exploring these ancient landmarks. Babylon was no exception.
Although parts of the ruins had been controversially restored by Saddam Hussein, original foundations and fragments of King Nebuchadnezzar’s walls still stood, testament to this city’s once-grand scale.
At the entrance, we hired a knowledgeable local guide who vividly brought Babylon’s legendary history to life—describing Nebuchadnezzar’s vast empire, the city’s critical role in ancient Mesopotamia, and its significance in biblical narratives. Walking through these ruins, seeing Saddam’s name imprinted beside Nebuchadnezzar’s, felt like stepping through layers of ambition, power, and cultural memory etched into the sands of Iraq.
The Ishtar Gate
The Ishtar Gate: Babylon’s Iconic Entrance
The Ishtar Gate, once the grand ceremonial entrance to ancient Babylon, now exists mainly as a replica at the original site. In the early 1900s, German archaeologist Robert Koldewey led excavations uncovering the original gate—an exquisite masterpiece built of vibrant blue bricks depicting lions, dragons, and bulls representing Babylonian deities.
Koldewey’s team carefully dismantled significant portions of this monumental structure, transporting them to Germany. Today, the most famous reconstruction is displayed in Berlin’s Pergamon Museum. Meanwhile, at Babylon, visitors encounter a replica built during Saddam Hussein’s rule, reflecting both ancient glory and modern ambitions intertwined at this historic site.
Stones with King Nebuchadnezzar’s stamped name lay scattered on the ground
Ancient Stones and Cautionary Tales
As we explored the ruins of Babylon, I noticed scattered ancient bricks bearing the unmistakable stamp of King Nebuchadnezzar’s name, lying openly on the ground. They seemed almost carelessly placed, as if anyone could simply pick one up as a souvenir. But temptation quickly faded when I recalled the recent incident of an elderly British tourist who was arrested at Baghdad airport after authorities found a small ancient stone in his luggage—a souvenir he innocently took from Iraq.
His simple keepsake led to serious charges, drawing international attention and highlighting Iraq’s strict cultural heritage laws. The authorities claimed he was attempting to smuggle a priceless artifact, illustrating how seriously Iraq views its heritage. This story served as a powerful reminder: even the smallest artifact is best left exactly where you found it.
Babylon Bricks stamped with Saddam Hussein’s name
Saddam’s Babylon: The Palace Overlooking Ancient Ruins
As we walked around Babylon, I couldn’t help but notice the modern bricks stamped with Saddam Hussein’s name and inscribed with a grand declaration:
“In the reign of the victorious Saddam Hussein, the president of the Republic, may God keep him the guardian of the great Iraq and the renovator of its renaissance and the builder of its great civilization, the rebuilding of the great city of Babylon was done in 1987.”
Saddam’s bold proclamation clearly revealed his desire to link himself with the glory of ancient Babylon, positioning himself as its modern reincarnation.
Throughout his nearly 24-year rule, driven by paranoia, Saddam constructed approximately 100 extravagant palaces across Iraq. He never announced when or where he’d arrive, forcing each palace’s staff to remain prepared daily. Any failure meant facing his wrath—often fatally.
One such palace loomed high on a hill overlooking Babylon’s ruins, perfectly positioned for Saddam to admire the ancient city he claimed to have resurrected. Despite the enormous cost of its construction, Saddam visited only a handful of times.
Today, this palace stands abandoned, marred by graffiti and vandalism. The Iraqi government hopes to one day transform it into a museum, but for now, the structure is guarded by Iraqi police, and visitors pay a small entry fee to explore.
Inside, we wandered freely through vast, empty rooms. The staircase to the second floor, however, was sealed off with barbed wire, likely due to safety hazards—whether structural instability, past accidents, or unexploded ordnance left behind from more dangerous times.
Engravings of Saddam in the entrance of the Palace
Engravings of Saddam in the entrance of the Palace
Grand entrance room
Exploring Borsippa: Iraq’s Forgotten Biblical Ruin
Near the outskirts of ancient Babylon lies the seldom-visited ruin of Borsippa, believed by many to be the biblical Tower of Babel. Constructed by the Babylonians around 900 BC, legend holds that this tower was humanity’s ambitious attempt to reach the heavens—an endeavor halted when God intervened by scattering the builders’ languages, leaving them unable to communicate. The structure was subsequently destroyed, leaving behind stones blackened and cracked, as if scorched by divine wrath.
Today, Borsippa is mostly abandoned and lacks the visitor infrastructure typical of more famous sites. When we arrived, the entrance was sealed, guarded by local authorities. After unsuccessfully trying the main gate near a mosque, we finally spotted an officer who reluctantly allowed us entry, warning that the site was closed. Inside, we had the place entirely to ourselves, wandering freely among the scattered stones and ruined bricks, many charred black by ancient fires—a haunting echo of its legendary past.
Though clearly neglected, signs of early restoration were visible: wooden walkways were being built, suggesting Iraq hoped to eventually welcome visitors officially. For now, Borsippa remains largely untouched—a quiet, evocative reminder of ancient ambition and myth.
A Mosque Meal Near Borsippa
Just outside the ruins of Borsippa, we stopped at a small mosque where worshippers gathered beneath the hot Iraqi sun. The mosque was offering a hearty stew of beef and vegetables, free for visitors after prayer. Although I skipped the stew, the free, ice-cold water was exactly what I needed after exploring the tower in the intense heat. It was refreshing, a simple but welcome moment of hospitality that perfectly captured the generous spirit of Iraq.
Volunteer workers in the mosque making a stew in heated pots despite the 90-degrees plus heat outside to feed hungry worshippers with free food.
Ezekiel’s Tomb and an Unexpected Encounter
Our final stop that day was the small town of Al Kifl, home to the burial site of the biblical prophet Ezekiel. Revered by both Jews and Muslims, Ezekiel’s tomb has long been a place of spiritual importance—and also a point of contention. The synagogue originally built around the tomb had recently been converted into a mosque, highlighting ongoing religious tensions surrounding the site.
Inside, the atmosphere was hushed and respectful, reflecting centuries of devotion. Photos weren’t permitted, but outside we relaxed beneath the shade of nearby trees, sipping ice-cold sodas from a local vendor. As we sat together, Bahaa struck up a conversation with the vendor, a kind, elderly man with a wooden leg—a somber reminder of Iraq’s violent past. He shared that he’d lost his leg as a young soldier during the devastating Iran-Iraq war, a conflict that claimed over half a million lives.
Listening to his story while sipping sodas, just feet from Ezekiel’s tomb, felt surreal: another quiet, poignant moment amid Iraq’s complex layers of history.
Dinner in Baghdad: Sheep’s Head, Brutal Honesty, and Euphrates Margaritas
That evening, Bahaa took us out for an authentic Iraqi feast at a local Baghdad restaurant. Surrounded by friends, we sampled various dishes, but the centerpiece was undeniably Pacha—a traditional stew made of sheep’s head, trotters, and stomach simmered for hours, served with bread soaked in its flavorful broth. The cheeks and tongue, we were told, were delicacies.
When the steaming bowl arrived, everyone paused, eagerly watching my friend Jimmie as he took his first bite. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Jimmie gave his brutally honest review: “Sorry, this is terrible, and I can’t eat it.” There was a brief silence before everyone broke into laughter. At first embarrassed, we quickly realized our Iraqi hosts were more amused than offended.
Afterward, we relaxed at a café, sipping surprisingly delicious non-alcoholic margaritas, and laughing together about the earlier culinary misadventure. It was another reminder of Iraq’s incredible hospitality and openness—proving once again that despite its troubled past, the country had so much warmth, friendship, and memorable experiences to offer.
Exploring an Abbasid Fortress in Iraq’s Desert
On our third day in Iraq, Bahaa took Jimmie and me deep into the desert, about 50 kilometers from Karbala, to explore a remote, thousand-year-old Abbasid fortress. As we drove through multiple federal police checkpoints, our passports were carefully scrutinized, especially near Karbala. Though military intelligence questioned us repeatedly, we had no real issues, just heightened curiosity about our journey.
When we finally arrived, the fortress stood isolated in the vast desert, its massive walls and expansive courtyards quietly guarding centuries of history. Like Babylon, the fortress had undergone restoration during Saddam Hussein’s regime, evident in the newer bricks stamped boldly with his name.
The exact purpose of the fortress remains unclear, though many believe it once protected vital trade routes linking Arabia and the fertile valleys of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers. Walking through its empty halls, I felt an eerie sense of solitude—the desert silence amplifying the site’s mysterious atmosphere.
Once again, we were the only visitors, free to wander through its ancient chambers and corridors. Standing atop those formidable walls, surrounded by endless desert, it was easy to imagine caravans and armies passing long ago, making our visit feel even more surreal and unforgettable.
Bricks with Saddam Hussein’s Stamp used to restore the fortress
Golden Light Inside the Great Hallways of the Fort
Ghostly Wild Barn Owls Living Inside the Fort that I stalked for a Photo.
Dungeon Snakes and Ancient Cannonballs
At the fortress, an attendant showed us the entrance to an old dungeon where prisoners were once held. As I eagerly approached the darkened doorway, he quickly cautioned us not to enter, warning of dangerous snakes lurking inside. Naturally, this only heightened my curiosity, and ignoring his advice, I ventured in anyway. The attendant promptly vanished—clearly unwilling to witness whatever mishap might await me.
Inside, the dungeon was cool, damp, and utterly silent—a stark contrast to the sun-drenched desert outside. While I never encountered any snakes, the chamber was far from empty. Hundreds of old cannonballs lay scattered across the stone floor, as if hastily abandoned centuries ago. Standing there in the shadows, surrounded by these relics of warfare, added an eerie and mysterious aura to the moment. It felt surreal and oddly thrilling to wander among these ancient artifacts, each silently hinting at stories long forgotten.
Snakes, Tombs, and Tombkeepers
As I wandered deeper into the fortress, I came across the groundskeeper, who shared that his father had held the same role before him, passing down the responsibility of safeguarding this ancient place. We chatted briefly, and I soon noticed a small, dark pit behind a narrow entrance. Curious, I asked him what lay inside. Without hesitation, he pulled me aside and showed genuine concern: just yesterday, he’d seen a large snake lurking there and strongly advised me not to enter. Although my curiosity urged me forward, common sense—and the worried expression on Bahaa’s face—made me reconsider. Reluctantly, I stepped away.
To satisfy our curiosity safely, the groundskeeper guided Jimmie and me to another chamber, where he said we could experience something else unique: a colony of tiny, thumb-sized bats. As soon as he opened the door, the startled bats scattered, fluttering wildly through the dark, narrow room. Standing in that cool darkness, watching these small creatures swirl overhead, felt eerie and fascinating—a fittingly surreal moment in this mysterious fortress in the heart of the Iraqi desert.
Grounds keeper whose father was also groundskeeper before him.
A tomb bat that fell to the ground
Colony of tomb bats
Visiting the Imam Husayn Shrine in Karbala
The Imam Husayn Shrine in Karbala is among the holiest sites for Shiite Muslims, housing the tomb of Imam Husayn, grandson of the Prophet Muhammad and the third Shiite Imam. Husayn’s martyrdom during the Battle of Karbala—killed by opponents challenging his claim as Muhammad’s successor—marked the pivotal split between Shiite and Sunni Islam, a division that continues to shape conflicts to this day.
Karbala itself is deeply conservative, with many women wearing full black niqabs reflecting strict religious customs. The city has endured decades of oppression and violence: Saddam Hussein’s regime heavily suppressed the Shiite population, and following his fall, terrorist organizations such as ISIS and al-Qaeda carried out bombings targeting pilgrims and religious gatherings.
Today, non-Muslim visitors can enter the shrine, but must adhere to strict security measures, including passing through multiple checkpoints designed to prevent attacks. Shoes must be left outside, and visitors step into an ornate, air-conditioned interior filled with worshippers in quiet devotion, paying their respects at Imam Husayn’s tomb—a deeply moving glimpse into Shiite religious life.
Imam Husayn Shrine
Imam Husayn Shrine
Imam Husayn Tomb
The Wild Road to Baghdad Airport
After saying our goodbyes to Bahaa in Karbala, we embarked on a two-hour taxi ride back to Baghdad airport—a journey both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. In Iraq, it quickly became clear the biggest danger wasn’t kidnapping or terrorism; it was simply being on the roads.
Iraq ranks among the deadliest places in the world to drive, and for good reason. Traffic laws seem nonexistent, seatbelts are rarely worn, and chaotic driving is the norm. Cars weave wildly through lanes, speed past each other on the shoulder, and frequently push 100 mph or more—often in turbocharged, American-made Dodge Challengers. Our driver navigated this madness skillfully, but the constant threat of a serious accident was always present, far outweighing any worries about ISIS or kidnapping.
Thankfully, we reached the airport safely, relieved to have survived Iraq’s real danger—its roads.