Saddam Hussein, when not launching punitive gas attacks, evidently thought so too, as one of his former holiday palaces sits atop Garra Mountain. The ruin is now a visitable Peshmerga outpost, who, devoid of threats up there, appear to hold the position for the symbolism rather than for any tactical reasons. The views from Hussein’s former bedroom are, as you would expect, spectacular.

Kurdish hospitality is a draw in itself. Though you’re unlikely to be accosted in the street, show an interest in talking to someone and you’ll find yourself invited for some form of kebab or stuffed grape leaves with somebody’s grandma. It can even be difficult to get taxi drivers to take payment at times.

In terms of danger, crime is extremely low. ISIS has been territorially defeated, but is still active in remote parts of Iraq and around the formerly Kurdish city of Kirkuk, which was lost to the Baghdad authorities after a short conflict in 2017. Thus, instability exists, and insurgent attacks cannot be ruled out – indeed, the Foreign Office still warns against all travel to the whole of Iraq (see below).

As the crisis on the Belarusian-Polish border demonstrated, Kurdistan has its problems. Politics is dominated by the resented Barzani and Talabani families, social issues have been taken up by students at the American University in Sulaymaniyah, and the fall in oil prices and the fight against ISIS led to an economic downturn and high unemployment. 

The migrants in the Belarusian woods paid thousands to traffickers on a gamble to get to a West that has been held in extreme high regard since the enforcement of the no-fly-zone following the First Gulf War (Erbil has a Sir John Major Street). Western connections carry huge social weight, with many wanting to talk about a cousin or a friend that has made it to Hamburg or London, but never one in Warsaw, Sarajevo, or Kiev. The language barrier was for me twice broken by a Facetime call to a Kurdish relative in Germany to act as a translator.