Music in Place and Time

For the past few days, I've had an earworm - but not one I've ever had before, and I can't figure out the trigger. The best way to cure an earworm is to actually listen to a performance of the piece from start to finish a few times. This wasn't a problem, since my earworm is an Oysterband song - one of my favorites - "Blood Red Roses", from Shouting End of Life. I loved this CD so much I played it constantly in my car and scratched the disc so badly I needed to repurchase it.



Although I've been on a Baroque kick for the past few months, I didn't mind revisiting this album, not just to cure the earworm, but to enjoy it for it's own sake, and I put it on to play last night on the ride home.

Listening to it this morning, I was struck with an odd sense of deja vu - how many times had I listened to this particular track on this exact stretch of road? Then I started to really think about my experience with the album. When I bought it, what I felt when I listened to it for the first time, and how I would describe the album to friends.

I remember finding this in the Bohemia Borders, back in the day when the store had a huge music section. It came out in October 1995, and I got it in late December that year. A co-worker had given me a Borders gift certificate for Christmas, and I used it then. I remember being blown away the first time I listen to the album - particularly by the lyrics of "Jam Tomorrow". I wasn't sure if they were "Hey hey, the donkeys say" or "Hey hey, the darkies say". I nearly had an accident when I heard the next line in the song - "Jam tomorrow, shit today". No trouble understanding that one.

A few weeks later, at a dinner with Fran and Steve Kuperschmid and his wife - the night before the Blizzard of '96 - I recommended the album to Steve - describing it as (if I recall) soul-stirring, fiercely political, English rock. Or English folk. Steve thought my tastes were very cool.

The next day, the snow started - I remember sitting in my bedroom (still living in Jericho), listening to the album play over and over and over. In my head, I was pulling out the lyrics, and decided that it was "donkeys" not "darkies".

Back to the present day - I can't believe that "Shouting End of Life" has been out for 14 years (and I wonder what has happened in those 14 years of my life). But the music is as fresh and as shocking as it was when I first heard it. People the generation before me talk about the first time they listened to Sgt. Pepper, how earthshattering it was. I think I feel the same way about this album - every time I listen to it, I can go back to a very specific time and place. It may be 14 years, but I don't feel any older.

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Dubai - Part IV - Going Home and Final Thoughts

(I've been home for over a week - I had composed this before I left, but delayed publishing it. I wanted to chronical my trip and post them in order).

My business in Dubai is done and I can come home! I was able to get my flight changed from the red-eye tomorrow night/Friday morning to tomorrow at 11:35 am - which means I'll get back to NY late on Thursday evening local time, be able to sleep through the jet lag and start Saturday all nice and fresh. It's supposed to rain - joy, joy, joy.

Dubai is an interesting place - good and bad. It's extremely expensive - a regular cup of coffee is $6 US, and a bottle of water is not much cheaper. People are very friendly - but as a visitor, it is unlikely that you'll encounter many native Emirites. Almost everybody who works in a store, in a restaurant, or in any sort of service capacity, is a foreigner. My driver was from Pakistan, the hotel staff are mostly Filipino, the lawyers were from India and Egypt and Ireland, and of course the jewelers were Indian and the rug merchants Kashmiri. I think the only Emirites I met were at the leasing office.

Women seem to be treated well - most native (meaning from the Gulf states) women covered their heads and wore some form of full body black garb, from wrists to upper neck - but few were in bourkas. Many were unaccompanied by men, but few were alone. I found it interesting that many women wore a lot of face makeup, the black abayas were very form-fitting, and trimmed with embroidery and lots of crystal. Women depicted in advertising ranged from the aforementioned natives in black with head scarves, to Western women in relatively scanty attire. Western woman are permitted to drive - and it is possible that native women do as well - but I didn't see any (didn't really look either).

I confess to avoiding ethnic food - one look at something called "foul madamas" and that put paid to any adventurous eating. Except for the sweets - tiny little things made with phyllo type dough, butter, honey and almond paste.

For the obvious reasons, I'll be sad to leave - it's been like a stay in lotus-eater land. Room service, turn down service, wake up service, no worries about parking, someone to carry my bags, a hotel suite twice as big as the bedroom at home. Reality is going to hit me in the face when I have to do my laundry! But I miss my family, my friends, the rest of my pillows (although the mattress here is far better than my own), my own bathroom (the less said about the toilet's water pressure, the better), my towels (why is it that even a 5-star hotel can't supply soft towels).

I miss my beads, my Macintosh with the big monitors, my comfy desk chair - access to Google.com, rather than Google.ae (where everything's in Arabic). Did I say I miss my Mac? Chinese food, beverages that come with plenty of ice, the occasional piece of crispy bacon (there is pork here, but it's segregated and the bacon's of the English, streaky variety, which is flappy, fatty and gross). I miss the autumn leaves, the chill in the morning and at the end of the day, the crisp fall air and the deep blue skies of New York in October. I miss the maples in the showy scarlet and gold dresses, the flocks of Canada geese thinking about going home and pooping everywhere. I miss the moon and the stars at night - between the light pollution and the air pollution, I've not seen a single star in the sky. I'm tired of the heat, the haze, the dust and the sand. Dubai is lovely, but it's not home.

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Dubai - Part III - Shopping

(I've been back for over a week, but I wanted to finish out the series.)

Anyone who has ever been to Dubai in the past 5 years will tell you that beyond anything else, it's a shopper's paradise. The largest mall in the world (by overall square footage), the Dubai Mall, is part of the Burj Dubai complex (the Burj Dubai being the tallest building in the world). There are about 10 different mall segments - fashion (including a Galleries Layfayette), couture fashion, a section that replicates London's Regent Street (but without a Liberty's) and the largest indoor jewelry complex (called the "Gold Souk") in the world - with over 200 different jewelry stores.

There are other great malls as well - the Mall of the Emirates, which has a Harvey Nick's and other important London-based retail outfits, also has the world's largest indoor ski slope. There is also a mall reserved just for women (I did not go there, my friend David told me about it), who can shop without their head coverings.

Then there are the old Dubai souks - the "real" shopping experience of Dubai. There is the spice souk, the carpet souk and the jewelry souk (the Dubai Gold Souk) - along the Dubai Creek near the Deira business district. Old markets, with intriguing merchandise.

After all the troubles that Saturday morning, I finally got into my new Executive Floor hotel room, showered and settled it. My driver picked me up around 2 pm, and my shopping day began. I wanted to go to the Dubai Gold Souk, but he told me that a lot of stores would be closed for the midday meal - until around 4 pm. So, he took me to the Mall of the Emirates (see above), where I wandered around for a few hours. As a New Yorker, who practically grew up at Roosevelt Field, mall shopping isn't a terribly exciting experience, and while some the merchandise was interesting (one store had a very extensive collection of Daum glass), there was little that I couldn't buy back at home. What surprised me was how well stocked the Borders bookstore was - and how current the selection, particularly in the SF/F section. Most of the books sported UK edition covers - and if I was still in the habit of buying dead-tree books, I may have over-indulged myself there (and probably regretted it when I realized how many duplicates I actually purchased).

I met my driver at 4 pm, and off to the souks we went. Now, I had been told that there was actually a souk specializing in fabric, but I was told wrong. I didn't really want to go to the Spice Souk - since I'd probably have to surrender everything Customs in JFK (can't bring in seeds and foodstuff). So, it was to be the Dubai Gold Souk - oh, what a hardship!

(photo courtesy of Dubai Construction Update, Credit Imre Solt)

Lots and lots of pretty stuff - I read somewhere that there are over 10 tons of gold in the Souk at any given time. Dubai actually has a long history as a center for the gold trade, and the Souk became a major hub in the 1940s as trade practices were liberalized. Most of the vendors are Indian and Iranian/Persian - and everyone was very eager to sell. It really felt like I was on 47th Street in New York. Substitute the men in white dishdasha and thobes for men in shiny black suits and black fur hats, and you might as well be in the New York Diamond District.

Of course, I bought a piece of jewelry - but not after quite a bit of bargaining. I fell in love with a bracelet - white and yellow 18k gold, a complex affair with chains and links and bars. It was $3000 US., somewhat more than what I wanted to spend. I probably could have gotten the price down to $1200, but that was still too much. The jeweler was really pushing, and I saw something that caught my eye - a white and yellow rollo link bracklet, with an oversized C-clasp. The tag price was $900, and he immediately came down to $750. I pushed, he pulled, I made to leave - he dropped to $675. I got serious and started to walk out - he went to $650 - I said $600. Sold. Of course, he was cheesed that I paid with my Amex!

The real delight for me that day was the rug dealer. I hadn't planned on buying rugs, but I was looking for scarves - and I fell in love with Kashmiri embroidery. Two rugs, two scarves and two pillow cases - and I used a combination of Dirhams and my Visa (more on that later) - for a total of $325 US. The scarves were actually much more expensive than the rugs. The dealer was just lovely - he held my package for a few hours, while I wandered through the souk. Walking up one of the side alleys, I found a silver dealer, with lots of lovely old-world type pieces. I fell in love with a few items - a ruby and zircon pendant, a bracelet and a matching chain. Since my supply of Dirhams was running low (didn't have too many to begin with), I paid with my Visa - or I tried to. Freaking Bank of America locked down my card after the first charge. Grrrrr. There was no way to call them from the souk, and I didn't want to use my debit card - so I had to let those pretties go (still sad). I went back to the Kashmir rug store, where the proprietor was so very nice - he had his tea boy get me a cup of iced mango juice and insisted that I sit and rest for a while. Of course, he tried to sell me another scarf - but there was another rug that caught my eye - and I had to have that too. He walked with me back to the main road and waited until my car and driver showed up. I was exhausted, and slept for most of the drive back to my hotel. Where I spent the better part of the evening trying to use the VOIP to contact BoA and get the lock on my Visa lifted.

Sunday morning was spent in meetings, and I napped for a few hours when I got back. I spent the late afternoon reading on my balcony - the Kindle was a delight. Between the books I read during my flight, and the reading during the day and evening - I probably had the Kindle in use for 15-20 hours, and while the power bar showed that the battery was still more than half-full, I figured that an overnight charge wouldn't be a bad idea. Except that I had forgotten to pack the extra charger I bought. I got on line and tried to order one for delivery to the hotel, but was appalled to find that Amazon would not ship the charger outside of the US (how frigging stupid is that). This was my worst nightmare coming true - stuck in a foreign country and no books to read. Horror of horrors!

I knew, objectively, that I had many, many more hours of reading left on the Kindle - but this type of fear is irrational. Then I remembered the well stocked Borders bookstore in the Mall of the Emirates. I could go back there tomorrow and get something to read! Hurray, I was saved. I could have taken the mall shuttle, but I figured - how often do I have a driver at my disposal? Instead of going back to the Mall of the Emirates, he took me to the Dubai Mall (see above). There was no comparison between the two facilities - the Dubai Mall made the Mall of the Emirates (MotE) seem like the Sunrise Mall (in other words, tacky, nasty and filled with loud, low-class people).

While my goal was to GET BOOKS NOW, since I entered the mall where the Tiffany's was, I just HAD to walk through the Gold Souk (note, difference between Dubai Gold Souk and the Gold Souk). It was interesting - a lot of very over the top, very very over the top jewelry, and almost no people, unlike the rest of the mall. Whereas the MotE was filled with ex pats, many of the patrons were Dubai women in abayas. (And German tourists). I finally got to the "Stallion Court" - named for the huge bronze statue of a rearing stallion (yes, a stallion in all biological aspects), which was the last courtyard in the Gold Souk. A pretty enough place - lots of mosaics, a fountain, subdued lighting. And German tourists. A middle-aged woman, badly dressed and badly sunburned, taking a picture of her middle-aged, badly dressed husband standing in front of the aforementioned bronze stallion. The way the husband was standing, any picture the wife took would have the horse's ummm, junk, appearing right on top of his head. I tried to explain - even gesturing to my own crotch and head. No communication there - none whatsoever.

I finally found a bookstore - Kinokuniya, which is a Very Big Bookstore (68,000 sq. feet). A good selection, but not very current on US titles. I read most of the romance and fantasy selections, and I was going to re-purchase the 2008 Best American Essays volume (which I had at home but still hadn't read), knowing that I could stretch that read out through most of the flight home, and a Karen Mills that I hadn't read (and didn't really want to read), when I found the "horror" section. It seems that much of what would be characterised as "urban fantasy" in the US falls into the straight horror section overseas. I hit a goldmine, so to speak - the store had at least 5 Keri Arthur titles that never made it into mass market circulation in the US - the Spook Squad books, the Circle books. So - I dropped the Best American Essays and the Karen Mills, got all five Keri Arthur and a Patricia Briggs I didn't recognize (it turned out that it was a recent reprint of a book I already have two copies of - grrrr - but definitely worth rereading). I was, thankfully, able to use my Visa.

Did a bit more shopping - bought gifts, and found a few more delicious scarves - another Kashmiri rug dealer. No mango juice this time, but a cup of very hot and very sweet tea. We had fun negotiating prices on some scarves (I almost regret not purchasing the fully embroidered green scarf - but $400 seem a bit too much). He got very excited when I told him I was from New York - he dreams of living in "the City that Never Sleeps".

It was finally time to call it a day - even though I saw less than half the mall. When my driver picked me up, something occurred to me - how was I to pay him? Cash - it seemed. And a fair amount of it - the airport pick up, the meetings, my own adventures, and the drop off back at the airport. No credit cards, but he told me "not to worry." I do worry - especially in a country where you can go to jail for debt. I had about 400 Dirham left, but I'd need a lot more than that (1 Dirham = $.28 US Dollars). When I got back to my hotel, I took a walk along The Walk, and much to my dismay - none of the banks or ATMs would take my card. Things weren't looking good.

I spent all of Tuesday in my room, on my balcony or working at the desk. Didn't want to add to my driver's bill unnecessarily.

Luckily, the people I was meeting with on Wednesday were expatriates, and when I explained my prediciment, they showed me their own ATM cards, which apparently worked in Dubai, New York and Ireland. They took me to a branch of the Emirates Bank, and after a few tense moments, the ATM spat out 3000 Dirhams, more than enough for my outstanding car fare.

I could have shopped some more, but the Duty-Free in Charles de Gaulle was waiting for me (I was hoping to find some Daum, but instead discovered Le Jacquard Francais).

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Dubai - Part II(a) - Strange

Separated at birth?

The Ruler of Dubai, Sheik Muḥammad bin Rāshid al Maktūm:

General Zod:

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Dubai - Part II - Camels

I've had an earworm for days - Maria Muldaur's "Midnight at the Oasis." That may be because of this:

These two camels are led up and down the Jumeirah beach, for the tourists to get a little taste of "authentic Arabia." I wonder how enjoyable it must be to ride one, wearing a thong bathing suit.

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Dubai - Part I(a) - Hospitality

Last night was definitely interesting. About an hour after I fell asleep (about 3am local time), someone started banging on my door, demanding to be let it. It was a very drunk American, insisting that this was his room. Scared me - really scared me. I called security, but he left by the time they got here. This morning was less interesting and more annoying. At 8:30 am, I was awoken by knocking - a steward wanted to know if I wanted the minibar recharged. I went back to sleep - and was disturbed again at 10 am, when another steward wanted to pick up my room service tray.

Then the fun began, when I used the bathroom and the toilet flooded (it was a second flush - so at least the water was clean. By the time maintenance came to fix it, there was 2 inches of water in the bathroom, and it was spilling into the room. I was packed and dressed- my plan was to get moved to a different room. I found a note from the hotel manager waiting for me. I went down to see him, and to my surprise, he was giving me an upgrade to a suite, in recompense for last night's trouble. A very nice upgrade - when I checked in, I was asked if I wanted to upgrade, but I declined - it was an additional $120 a night.

I'm still pooped, but at least I've been able to shower and get a little more rest. Going to get a bit to eat and think about going to the markets for some shopping. It's 98 degrees out and very very humid.

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Dubai - Part I - Arrival

After 20+ hours in transit, I've made it to Dubai. The Hilton Jumeirah hotel is lovely, and right the beach (as if I actually brought and would wear a swimsuit).

My body clock tells me it's three in the afternoon, but exhausted. There is an 8 hour negative time difference from New York to Dubai. I dozed a bit on the flight from NY to Paris, but I stubbornly refused to get my pillow out of my carry-on until well into the 4th hour, and by then there was really no sleeping. The 3 hour layover in Charles de Gaulle cemented just how much I despise that airport and the people who work there. It didn't really matter that my connecting flight was a 30 minute walk away from my landing gate, and there were no signs directing me to the correct gate. It really didn't matter that I had to go through security AGAIN, and there were 500+ people being funneled through 2 security scanners (I flew business and got in the priority line). The Air France lounge was marginally acceptable, but what really killed me was the absolute and utter lack of information at the boarding gate. At no point were we told that the airplane (a Boing 787) was too big to get to the gate, so we'd need to climb down three flights (with our carry-on), get on overcrowded buses and be driven to our plane, and then climb up another two flights to board the damn thing. The gate agents spoke so quickly and dismissively in English that they may have been chattering in Urdu for all I was able to understand them.

I was able to sleep on the second leg - I got my pillow out as soon as I found my seat, and I think I was out before we left Paris airspace. I woke just as we were entering Iraqi airspace - seeing Basra and Baghdad on the air map was unnerving, to say the least.

It took a while for my luggage to arrive - long enough that I was concerned that it may have not made it onto the flight from Paris. Going through Dubai customs was odd - the immigration agent didn't even ask me the purpose of my visit.

I finally got out of the airport, met my driver and got underway. What surprised me was not the heat, but the humidity. I was not expecting a desert country so be so, well, moist. It took about an hour to get to the hotel - huge traffic problems in this neighborhood, even after midnight.

First thing first - unpacked the computer, signed up for internet service (500 dirham for the week - ouch), and used the VOIP to call Dad. He's fine - and I was glad to be able to talk with him so easily. Now - what to eat? I'm starving. And then time for bed - I'll want to get a good night's sleep - so I can go to the souks tomorrow. Fabric and gold...

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My Sherlock Holmes Moment

I had occassion to be in a post office last night, around 9 pm (yes, there are still a few "major" post offices that keep late hours), and while I was waiting for the very nice clerk to return with an answer to my postal question, at the next station, noticed a woman purchasing an Express Mail envelope, and asking if something would fit, and confirming that if she mailed it tonight, it would get to Geneso by tomorrow. 

Ever curious me, I just had to look.

The customer took a box of Theraflu and a package of Hall's cough drops out of a Target bag, and as she was putting it in the Tyvek envelope, I just had to say:

"Your daughter's a freshman at the college, and she's gotten her first bad cold."

The woman laughed, and asked me how I could know that. 

After apologising for being so nosy, I told her "I knew that it had to be for your child, because you were so concerned about the package getting to Geneseo tomorrow.  I also know that there's pretty much nothing up there near the campus, so it had to be Mom to the rescue."  But she was really wondering how I knew her it was daughter, in college and how I knew she was a freshman.  I told her that was the easy part - there aren't too many reasons why a downstater would be in Geneseo, NY long enough to need an emergency care package unless s/he was going to SUNY-Geneseo, no self-respecting teenage boy would admit to being sick enough for a care package with just medicine, and given the climate and rough winters, a downstater returning to Geneseo would already have the cold care supplies - and it's too early in the season to have run out.

The funny thing is, I didn't deliberately even think about any of these things when I blurted out my original comment - it was only when I had to explain my deductive reasoning that all of the pieces fell into place.  I guess I could have really creeped her out and simply told her I hoped her daughter felt better soon, and that she should try not to skip too many classes.

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