Thursday, May 23rd, 2024. A date that now lives quietly in the folds of my memory, like a pressed flower between the pages of a well-loved book. It marked the end of my brief but meaningful chapter in Erbil—a city that had, in its own unassuming way, embraced me with warmth, chaos, and colour. That evening, as the sun dipped behind the rugged skyline and the call to prayer echoed softly through the air, I felt the weight of my resignation settle in. Not as a burden, but as a gentle punctuation to a story that had run its course.

But if that Thursday was the closing line, then Wednesday, May 22nd, was the final flourish—the golden epilogue. A night that glowed with laughter, flavour, and the kind of camaraderie that only time and shared experience can forge. It was the evening my dear colleagues, Arbab and Joel, insisted we gather for one last dinner. Not just any dinner, but a farewell feast at Hiror Restaurant—one of Erbil’s culinary crown jewels, whispered about with reverence and remembered with longing.

I didn’t hesitate. It wasn’t just about the food, though Hiror’s reputation preceded it. It was about honouring the friendships that had quietly become the backbone of my time here. In a city that had once felt foreign, these two had become my constants—my chosen family.

The Warmth of Familiar Faces

Walking into Hiror that evening felt like stepping into a memory already in the making. The restaurant’s understated elegance—soft lighting, plush seating, and the gentle hum of conversation—wrapped around us like a comforting shawl. We settled into our corner, and I found myself quietly absorbing the moment. Just a few months ago, I was a newcomer navigating unfamiliar streets and customs. Now, I was surrounded by people who had made those streets feel like home.

Joel’s wife, Sheral, joined us that evening, her presence adding a gentle grace to our gathering. She had always radiated warmth, and her laughter—easy and sincere—wove seamlessly into our tapestry of stories and jokes. The conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by bursts of laughter and quiet moments of reflection. We reminisced about office antics, weekend escapades, and the countless cups of tea that had fuelled our shared days.

A Culinary Ode to Friendship

And then came the food. Hiror Restaurant did not disappoint. Each dish arrived like a work of art—vibrant, aromatic, and unapologetically indulgent. We began with appetisers that danced on the tongue—crispy, spiced, and perfectly balanced. The main courses were a symphony of flavours: tender meats, fragrant rice, and sauces that whispered of tradition and care. Every bite was a celebration, every shared plate a silent toast to the bond we had built.

The Iraqi tea that followed was more than just a beverage—it was a ritual, a moment of pause. As we sipped its earthy warmth, I felt a quiet gratitude settle in. For the food, yes. But more so for the people across the table. For Arbab’s infectious energy and Joel’s steady kindness. For Sheral’s gentle humour. For the way this city had given me more than I had ever expected.

The Ache Beneath the Laughter

Yet, beneath the laughter and the clinking of cutlery, a soft ache lingered. We all felt it—the unspoken knowledge that this was our last supper. That the ease of spontaneous coffee breaks and post-work banter was about to become a memory. Arbab, with his unmatched culinary skills and irrepressible spirit, had often hosted us with his legendary Nalli Nihari and Chapli kebabs. Those evenings—filled with rich aromas, hearty laughter, and even the occasional off-key singing—had become the heartbeat of my Erbil experience.

Joel, ever the calm in the storm, had been my sounding board, my quiet anchor. His wisdom had guided me through more than one moment of uncertainty, and his friendship had been a steady light.

As the night wore on, we lingered. No one wanted to leave. The table became a sanctuary, a place where time slowed and goodbyes felt suspended. We stretched the moments, savouring the last drops of tea, the final stories, the lingering warmth.

Under Erbil’s Starry Sky

When we finally stepped out into the cool Erbil night, the sky was a canvas of stars. I looked up, then around, and felt a swell of emotion. This city, with its ancient soul and modern heartbeat, had given me more than a job. It had given me connection, belonging, and memories that would echo long after I left.

Arbab and Joel had turned a professional stint into a personal journey. Their friendship will remain etched in my heart, a guiding light as I step into the unknown. And while the road ahead is uncertain, I carry with me the hope that our paths will cross again.

Farewell, Erbil. You welcomed me with open arms and gifted me stories I will tell for years to come. Until we meet again, may your skies remain bright and your spirit ever vibrant.