Is it the “chance” meeting of the young man who was a child in our English class nine years ago? His family welcomed us into their home and provided an amazing meal, from the little they have.

Is it the family that came from Mexico to love these people?

Or…maybe it’s the family that came from Taiwan to love these people?

What is it about this place?! Is it the young friend that guided us to his favorite chai and fire grilled chicken place on the mountain?

Maybe it’s the Kurdish man who stopped to help us change our flat tire? He wanted to get his hands dirty for us to show his gratitude for our forces rescuing him from ISIS captivity. Before he left, he showed us the scars on his leg, gave me a hug and repeatedly thanked me.

It is possible that it’s the man at the neighborhood tire shop that happily repaired our flat tire and returned the spare to the trunk for $.80 (I finally got him to take $1.60, but it wasn’t easy).

I wonder, what is it about this place? Maybe it’s the family we met when we toured the museum? Now living in a western country, the father brought his adult children to see the place he’d helped free in 1991, his mind’s eye still seeing the carnage.

It must be our new friends, him from Syria and her from Slemani, who took us to dinner at a wonderful Syrian restaurant.

Certainly, it has to be the man we met at a mall shortly after we arrived here. He bought us coffee, we had an hourlong conversation and he gave us his business card. We didn’t want to leave without seeing him again so we scheduled coffee and lunch with him and his wife. Our two hour coffee/lunch appointment turned into nearly six hours because they wanted to take us to the lake. When we got to the lake they wanted to take us for a boat ride and when we got back to town, they wanted us to meet his sister and her husband.