A version of this image was originally posted to iLevel 1.0 when it was on camblog. Looking at that version the other day I was struck by how bland it was, and so I punched it up a little and re-posted it here today.
Tag: Dubai
(by the way, this should be the 51th post on iLevel)
It’s that time of the year again; natural disasters and diseases hog the headlines more than political intrigue (notice the trend over the past few years); you have to update your copyright watermarks (or maybe it’s just me); you just found that long-missing piece of Christmas cake under the sofa, and it’s now home to a civilization not much older than the year.
Oh well, might as well let them live until April so that they may have a chance at an industrial civilization. Gaw’on, play God for a bit.
God tends to be remembered a lot this time of the year: Oh my god it’s a new year; oh my god I didn’t do a thing last year; oh my god I don’t know what to do this year; oh my god I might actually do something this year.
Oh my god there’s a whole year to go before the next Star Wars. Oh my god the next Spiderman comes out in a few months. Oh my god there’s no Lord of the Rings movie to look out for this year. Oh my god there just might be a sequel to Lord of the G-Strings (hubba hubba).
I’m in Mumbai this month, and I’m glad because it’s the place I call home. This time I managed to drag a crusty old laptop here with me (it barely runs Windows) so I can type at home and hopefully upload a few blog entries.
Writing in Mumbai is about as good as it gets. To be constantly drenched in stimulus might be overwhelming for an outsider, but now that I am more Mumbaikar than N.R.I. (Non-Resident Indian) with the current visa setup I find that there is a zero adaptation time when I arrive here (something that was a bit of a problem when I was younger). Ideas flow more freely here; the feverish want to write and do and create in general is much more.
Not that Dubai is any less interesting; the clash of a hundred different cultures always produces fun results, but my response to the place is a bit more muted. It takes me a week back in Dubai to get into the flow of things, to start getting ideas and images.
I’m a city boy, and Mumbai is just so much more of a city. I’m glad I’m spending all of January here, and with a laptop, a digital camera and a ton of unrealised projects it’s going to be busy busy busy. I intend to make the momentum continue through the rest of the year, and, if possible, even ramp it up back in Dubai.
Hope you have a prosperous year too, even if you aren’t in the best city on earth. God agrees with me.
And don’t touch that cake.
Vishal
If it’s 12 pm, it must be time for the talk shows.
Lebanese daily talk shows are, as one would expect, very indicative of their culture. They always have more than one female host, the maximum (including guest hosts) can go anywhere up to the dozen mark for a two hour thing. Subjects are usually restricted to make-up, Make Up, fashion (where the studio is, apparently, contractually obligated to have one of the hosts model everything), nutrition (low fat, she said LOW FAT!) and ornamental plant decoration. The chef usually prepares something bizarre that could only be made in Lebanon. One of them (and this I kid you not) somehow finds a way to make almost all his dishes bone-white. Not clear or of a whitish, roux quality — I’m talking chalk soup.
Egyptian talk shows chuck the cooking and fashion tips and nutrition entirely, and just invite over one of the hundreds of greying socio-political literati that Egypt has birthed post WW2. They come over, talk incessantly for two hours without cracking a sweat or a smile, and the host tries not to fall asleep (I’m sure what the guys are saying must be pretty interesting on the whole, but hosts are just like that). This sort of show is what the Lebanese have in the late night 9-12 slot, when all their people are back at home, snug in their leather couches, and feel the need to get right chuffed about culture and current affairs.
Emarati and Kuwaiti shows tend to be similar to Lebanese shows, except there’s always only one host (female), the chef pops up throughout the thing and cooks (if you’re Kuwaiti) something Western European involving Filo Pastry and (if you’re Emarati) Big Pieces of Meat.
Emarati shows also tend to call in doctors and ‘specialists’ from the numerous ‘specialist’ hospitals that litter this country, and with them thise fine men and women of science bring charts, diagrams and the latest, hi-res digital snaps of a foul looking pox, or fungal tooth rot or other green decaying stuff on the flesh.
The hostess nods, smiles her well-practiced, top teeth only smile and informs everyone that after the break some delicious Big Pieces of Meat will be cooked.
Cut to Commercial.
V
Back from India. Dubai is even worse upon return; the smog has set in permanently now. Or perhaps it always was and I didn’t notice.
V