May 2023: After two prior trips to Iraq, where I had explored Kurdistan and the southern marshes with the Marsh Arab Madan people, I was eager to experience central Iraq. I only had a few days due to a layover on my way to Nepal for a two-week trek in the Mustang Valley, so I reached out to my friend Bahaa, whom I’d met on my last trip to the marshes. Bahaa kindly offered to host us at his home and show my friend Jimmie and me around Baghdad, Babylon, and Karbala.
The journey began with a SkyWest Airlines flight, a United Airlines link, from San Diego to Los Angeles (LAX), where the pilot happened to be Jimmie. He even gave me a quick tour of the cockpit before takeoff, which added a fun, personal touch to the start of our trip. Once we landed at LAX, Jimmie quickly changed out of his pilot uniform into his backpacker clothes, ready to embark on our Middle Eastern adventure. From there, we set off on a 15-hour Qatar Airlines flight, excited for the journey ahead.
A lot had changed since my last visit to Iraq in March 2017. The war with ISIS had officially ended, and Iraq had stabilized considerably. ISIS had been defeated and pushed into the remote deserts of Anbar Province, reducing the frequency of bombings and terrorist attacks that once plagued the region. Iraq, once challenging for independent travelers, now offered a visa on arrival for many nationalities, including Americans. This made it easier to make a brief stop to see my friend Bahaa and visit some of the ancient sites around Baghdad on my way to Nepal.
In 2017, I was cautious about security, but this time, I felt a lot more at ease. Jimmie and I didn’t make much of an effort to blend in—though it wouldn’t have mattered, as many Iraqis in central Iraq have adopted Western styles of clothing and appearance. While most people recognized us as Westerners, a few surprisingly mistook us for Iranians or even Kurds.
I arrived in Baghdad in the evening via Doha on Qatar Airlines. There were no obvious tourists on my flight, but I did sit next to an American war journalist and his son. They were returning to Iraq to witness how the country had changed since the peak of combat. The visa-on-arrival process was surprisingly simple and efficient, and the Iraqi immigration officers were welcoming—a contrast from the tense atmosphere during my previous visit.
Once through, Jimmie and I met Bahaa outside the airport. Security restrictions were tight; only airport staff and passengers were permitted inside, while everyone else waited outside the airport walls, about 10 miles from the terminal. We hired one of the authorized taxis, screened and approved by security services, to take us from the airport perimeter to Bahaa. Along the route, we passed through multiple checkpoints designed to prevent terrorist attacks.
On the roadside, I noticed several billboards and murals honoring Qasem Soleimani, the late Iranian general of the Quds Force who was assassinated just three years ago on this very road by a U.S. airstrike. The presence of these tributes was a clear reminder of Iraq’s complex and shifting allegiances, especially after the U.S. invasion and the fall of Saddam Hussein. As I’d soon find, these martyr murals were a common sight throughout the Shiite areas of Iraq, underscoring the deepening connections between Iraq and Iran, two nations bound by a shared Shiite 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
Once outside, we finally met up with Bahaa and his friend, who warmly welcomed us to Iraq. To kick off the visit, they took us to a nice restaurant in Baghdad for dinner, where we enjoyed some local specialties. It was a perfect introduction to Iraqi hospitality and cuisine, and a great chance to catch up with Bahaa.
After dinner, we drove to Bahaa’s house, located not far from the ancient city of Babylon. The drive was quiet, and the night air gave the journey a relaxed, almost surreal feeling. We settled into his guest room, where we’d be staying for the night. Being close to such a historic site made the experience even more intriguing, and I couldn’t wait to see what the following days in Iraq would bring.
The next morning, Bahaa and his friend drove Jimmie and me to see the ancient city of Babylon, the heart of one of the oldest and most legendary civilizations in human history. Iraq, often called the “cradle of civilization,” is home to ancient cultures like the Sumerians and Babylonians, who established some of the first cities and complex societies along the fertile land between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers.
Babylon, founded nearly 4,000 years ago, was once regarded as the wealthiest and most powerful city-state in the world. Under the rule of King Nebuchadnezzar II, it grew to encompass much of present-day Iraq, stretching into regions of modern Iran, Syria, and Kuwait. Nebuchadnezzar, known for his military conquests and vast architectural achievements, expanded the city near the Euphrates River, close to today’s Hillah. He famously conquered Jerusalem and supposedly constructed the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.
Our visit took a striking twist when we saw the ruins beneath a looming palace built by Saddam Hussein, who saw himself as a reincarnation of Nebuchadnezzar. Saddam, envisioning himself as the supreme ruler destined to restore Iraq’s ancient glory, undertook a restoration project of Babylon. When he discovered that Nebuchadnezzar had stamped the bricks of his buildings with his own name, Saddam mimicked this practice to mark his legacy. Today, the oldest bricks bear Nebuchadnezzar’s stamp, while Saddam’s name can be seen on newer, upper layers—a lasting, controversial imprint on this legendary site.
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.
In Iraq, foreign tourists are still rare, so nearly every historical site we visited was empty of other travelers, allowing us an uninterrupted experience exploring these ancient landmarks. Babylon was no exception. Although Saddam Hussein’s renovations had altered parts of the site, traces of the original foundation and some of King Nebuchadnezzar’s walls endured, bearing witness to the grandeur of this once-mighty civilization.
At Babylon’s entrance, we hired a local guide who helped us piece together the stories of this legendary city. Wandering through the ruins, we could still sense its past splendor, as the guide described Nebuchadnezzar’s reign, the city’s significance in ancient Mesopotamia, and its role in biblical tales. The blend of ancient and recent history—the ruins and Saddam’s modern additions—made Babylon feel like a layered timeline of power, ambition, and cultural legacy.
The Ishtar Gate, once a grand entrance to ancient Babylon, now exists largely as a replica. In the early 1900s, German archaeologist Robert Koldewey led an excavation that uncovered the original gate, a masterpiece adorned with striking blue bricks and depictions of lions, dragons, and bulls, symbolizing deities worshipped in Babylon. Koldewey’s team carefully dismantled sections of the gate and shipped them to Germany, where the most famous reconstruction can now be found at the Pergamon Museum in Berlin. Today, visitors to Babylon encounter a replica of the Ishtar Gate, erected under Saddam Hussein’s rule.
Stones with King Nebuchadnezzar’s stamped name lay scattered on the ground, seemingly up for grabs, tempting anyone who passed by. However, the recent case of an elderly British man arrested at the airport for possessing a small rock—a piece he had taken from Iraq—served as a stark reminder of the serious consequences of such actions. The Iraqi authorities claimed the rock was an antiquity, and the man is now facing life imprisonment, with the possibility of execution. This incident reinforced how strict Iraq is about protecting its historical treasures, making it clear that even the smallest artifact is off-limits to tourists.
The modern restored walls of Babylon are constructed with bricks stamped with Saddam Hussein’s name, accompanied by 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.” This inscription proudly proclaims Saddam’s self-styled role as the restorer of Babylon’s former glory, linking his regime to the ancient city’s legacy.
During Saddam Hussein’s nearly 24 years in power, he constructed an astonishing 100 palaces across Iraq. Driven by paranoia, he kept his movements secret, never announcing his arrivals to any palace. Staff at each palace were expected to be on standby, preparing meals and furnishings daily, just in case Saddam decided to visit. Failing to be prepared for his unannounced arrival was a surefire way to meet a grim fate.
One of his palaces was built on a hill overlooking the ancient city of Babylon, allowing Saddam to gaze down on the ruins of the great city and bask in his self-proclaimed role as the modern ruler of this ancient kingdom. Despite the immense cost of building the palace, Saddam is believed to have visited it only a handful of times.
Today, the palace stands abandoned, ravaged by graffiti and vandalism. The Iraqi government has expressed intentions to restore the palace and convert it into a museum. For now, the site is secured by Iraqi police to prevent further damage, and a small entrance fee is charged to visit.
Once inside, we were free to explore the vast rooms of the palace, though access to the second floor was restricted. Barbed wire blocked the stairs, likely due to the instability of the upper levels, which had either caused a fatal accident or contained unexploded ordnance or booby traps left behind.
Engravings of Saddam in the entrance of the Palace
Engravings of Saddam in the entrance of the Palace
Just outside of the ancient city of Babylon lies the ruined tower of Borsippa, which, according to Arab tradition, is identified as the biblical Tower of Babel. This tower, believed to have been built by the Babylonians around 900 BC, is famously mentioned in the Bible as a structure intended to reach the heavens. The Bible recounts how construction was halted when God confused the languages of the builders, preventing them from communicating. Eventually, God destroyed the tower, and the stones that remain show evidence of having been scorched by an intensely hot fire, charred black from the flames.
The tower itself stands at only about 50 feet tall, but it sits atop a massive, formidable Sumerian ziggurat, which has yet to be fully excavated.
When we visited, the site was secured by local police and closed to visitors. Borsippa is not a popular tourist destination and lacks the infrastructure commonly found at more famous sites. However, it appeared that Iraqi authorities were working to develop the site, as we noticed the construction of a wooden walkway.
Initially, we attempted to enter the site through the gate at a nearby mosque, but the first officer we encountered declared the site closed. However, after checking with another officer, he agreed to allow us entry. He escorted us to the front gate, asking for a photo with us on his phone before leaving us to explore the ruins on our own, with the freedom to wander undisturbed.
After visiting the tower in the 90 degrees plus heat, we visited the nearby mosque, which was believed to have some kind of connection to Abraham, where free water and a beef, vegetable stew was being handed out for free to worshippers. I didn’t try the stew, but the water sure did taste good.
Volunteer workers in the mosque making a stew in heated pots despite the 90 degrees plus heat outside to give away free to worshippers.
Our final stop for the day was the small village of Al Kifi, home to the burial tomb and mosque of the Biblical Prophet Ezekiel. Ezekiel is revered by both Jews and Muslims, and his tomb is a site of religious significance for both faiths. The synagogue that once stood beside the tomb was converted into a mosque in recent years, adding to the ongoing disputes between Jews and Muslims over the site.
We visited the mosque briefly, but cameras were not allowed inside, so we continued our exploration by strolling through the village’s ancient covered bazaar, which proved to be far more intriguing. The market was quiet and offered a glimpse into local life. We found a bench in the shade and sat to enjoy cold Fanta sodas, purchased from a street vendor who had set up shop nearby.
Bahaa learned that the vendor had a wooden leg, a result of a landmine injury he sustained during the Iran-Iraq war when he was young. He was one of the lucky survivors—over 500,000 Iraqis lost their lives in the brutal and senseless conflict that Saddam Hussein waged against Iran. As we sat there, the vendor’s story lingered in my mind, a reminder of the scars the war still left on the country and its people.
On our second night in Iraq, Bahaa took us out for dinner in town, where we joined his brother and friends for a lively evening of trying various Iraqi dishes. The standout dish of the night was Pacha, a traditional Iraqi specialty made from sheep’s head, trotters, and stomach, all slowly boiled together and served with bread soaked in the rich broth. The cheeks and tongue are considered the most desirable parts of the dish. As I had stopped eating red meat years ago, I politely declined, but Jimmie, always open to new experiences, agreed to try it.
Bahaa, eager to give Jimmie the full experience, drove us miles away to a restaurant that specialized in Pacha. When the sheep’s head was brought to the table, there was a moment of anticipation. Everyone waited expectantly as Jimmie took his first few bites. After a few seconds of chewing, Jimmie gave his brutally honest review: “Sorry, this is terrible, and I can’t eat it.” My initial reaction was one of concern, but I quickly realized I had no reason to worry when everyone burst into laughter. Bahaa’s friends devoured their portions with gusto, while Bahaa, ever the good host, took us to find a falafel restaurant to salvage the evening.
Later, we met along the banks of the Euphrates River to unwind with some non-alcoholic Mexican Margaritas, which, surprisingly, tasted fantastic. The evening was a mix of laughter, good food, and new experiences, and it felt like another small reminder of how much Iraq had to offer despite its turbulent past.
On our third day in Iraq, Bahaa took Jimmie and me to a thousand-year-old Abbasid fortress located deep in the desert, about 50 kilometers from Karbala. As we made our way there, we passed through multiple federal police checkpoints. At each stop, our passports were carefully examined, and we were questioned by military intelligence, particularly as we passed through the city of Karbala. Despite the heightened security, we didn’t encounter any real difficulty and were allowed to continue on our journey without issue.
The fortress itself was another ancient structure that had been restored during Saddam Hussein’s regime, though it had a different feeling than Babylon. Unlike some of the other sites we’d visited, this one had been well-preserved, possibly because much of the original structure had remained intact over the centuries. Still, Saddam’s influence was visible in the bricks, many of which were stamped with his name, as had become customary in his restoration projects.
The location of the fortress, sitting isolated in the middle of the desert, remained somewhat mysterious. One theory was that it had once guarded the crossroads between Arabia and the fertile river valleys of the Tigris and Euphrates—an important strategic point for trade and military movement.
The fortress, with its towering walls and expansive courtyards, had an eerie, almost haunted atmosphere. The silence of the place was palpable, and the feeling of being alone in such an ancient, remote location added to its mystique. As with most of the sites we’d visited in Iraq, we had the place entirely to ourselves, free to wander through its chambers and corridors without any crowds. It was a surreal experience to explore the fortress, its stone walls steeped in centuries of history, all while surrounded by the endless desert.
Golden Light Inside the Great Hallways of the Fort
Ghostly Wild Barn Owls Living Inside the Fort that I stalked for a Photo.
A man who worked at the fortress showed us to the location of the dungeon where prisoners were once kept. As soon as I made a beeline for the entrance, the man swiftly warned us not to enter, citing the presence of dangerous snakes inside. Naturally, this only piqued my curiosity, and I pressed on, ignoring his advice. The man quickly disappeared, presumably to avoid any responsibility should we encounter any danger from the snakes.
The dungeon was a stark contrast to the warm, sunlit exterior of the fortress. Inside, it was cool, dark, and ominously quiet—clearly a perfect environment for snakes, or at least that’s what I imagined. I didn’t encounter any of the slithering creatures the man had warned us about, but the dungeon was far from empty. Hundreds of old cannonballs were scattered across the floor, as though abandoned in haste. The sight of these ancient munitions, once used in warfare, added a sense of mystery and history to the already eerie atmosphere. It was an odd feeling, standing there in the dim light, surrounded by remnants of conflict and danger from a long-forgotten time.
While I was exploring on my own, I stumbled upon the groundskeeper of the fortress. He explained that his father had been the previous groundskeeper, and now it was his turn to look after the site. We exchanged a few words before I found a small, dark pit tucked away behind another narrow entrance. Curious, I asked the man what was inside. Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and showed me a photo of a venomous snake he had spotted in the area just that morning.
This time, when I moved to enter the pit, Bahaa, ever cautious, blocked my path. Concern was evident in his eyes as he insisted I stay back. He had a point—given the recent snake sighting and the ominous atmosphere of the fortress, it wasn’t worth the risk. Though I was disappointed, I reluctantly agreed to stay out.
Instead, the groundskeeper led Jimmie and me to another dark room. As we entered, he explained that a colony of small, thumb-sized tomb bats had made their home there. The second the door opened, the bats fluttered around our heads, startled by our presence, before quickly flying out and vanishing into the shadows. It was a surreal moment—standing in a centuries-old fortress with bats and ancient history swirling around us.
grounds keeper whose father was also groundskeeper before him.
A tomb bat that fell to the ground
Colony of tomb bats
The Imam Husayn Shrine in Karbala is one of the holiest sites for Shiite Muslims, as it houses the tomb of Imam Husayn, the grandson of the Prophet Muhammad and the third Imam in the Shiite tradition. Imam Husayn’s martyrdom in the Battle of Karbala, where he was killed by those who disagreed with his claim as Muhammad’s successor, is a pivotal event that led to the split between Shiite and Sunni Islam, fueling the sectarian divide that persists today.
Karbala is a deeply conservative city, where you’ll often see women wearing full black niqabs, reflecting the strict religious culture. Over the years, Karbala has been targeted by various forces due to its significance to Shiite Muslims. During Saddam Hussein’s regime, Shiite populations in the region were oppressed, and after Saddam’s fall, the city became a target for terrorist groups like ISIS and al-Qaeda, who have carried out bombings against pilgrims and religious gatherings.
Visitors, including non-Muslims, can enter the Imam Husayn Shrine, but strict security measures are in place to protect against potential attacks, especially suicide bombings, which have occurred in the past. Visitors are required to leave their shoes outside and pass through security checks before entering the mosque’s ornate and air-conditioned interior. Inside, worshippers pray and give their respects to Imam Husayn at his tomb.
Imam Husayn Tomb
After leaving Karbala, we headed for the Baghdad airport, saying our goodbyes to Bahaa before embarking on a two-hour taxi ride to catch our Qatar Airways flight to Doha and then onward to Nepal. During the drive, we reached speeds of 100 mph or more, which was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. In Iraq, the real concern wasn’t the threat of kidnapping or ISIS—it was the driving.
Iraq is one of the deadliest places in the world to drive, and it’s easy to see why. Traffic laws are virtually nonexistent, seat belts are rarely used, and women drivers are few and far between. The roads are chaotic, with vehicles weaving in and out of lanes, drivers overtaking on the shoulder, and vehicles making blind turns into oncoming traffic. Highways have no lanes, and drivers treat the roads like an Indy 500 race, often gunning their accelerators at high speeds.
To make matters worse, it seemed like every other car was a turbocharged American-made Dodge Challenger, making the experience even more intense. Despite the madness, there’s no doubt the drivers are skilled, but it’s a constant worry to be caught in an accident.