In the first five minutes of today’s fair I got a serious grad inquiry. Yee-haw. The rest of the day was steady, though there were not nearly as many people overall (gracias a Dios). “They” were right. Now that it is Saturday, the serious students have shown up, many with their parents. One in fact is a return from yesterday, this time bringing Dad to have a talk with me. I wow him pretty good. If this girl is not enrolled at my school Fall of 2006, I will publicly flagellate myself in the middle of Main Street.
After the fair I try for my mini-bar refills again. I take the Metro from the convention center to the next stop towards town. Here is where I was instructed there was the biggest super-market to be found, La Gran Via. I have one small victory to report. I found the mini-Kit-Kat, and yes, a bought a bag of them just to get one to put in the mini-bar. I could not leave empty handed. My eye was also drawn by some Guinness and potato chips. I shall now enjoy them and watch True Lies en espanol (I can never get the damn ~ to work over an “n”).
By the way: that reminds me, one of the reasons Spain is behind in English is that it has a very robust and protected dubbing industry. Nothing on TV, other that live international news (BBC, CNN, FOX) is in English. No chance to learn, or supplement learning, through subtitles.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
AULA Day Three: 11-M
High schoolers once again. When will it end? When do the college students arrive? There is always hope for the weekend.
Cinco Minutos
The one outstanding feature of the day was the five minutes of silence for the victims of the terrorist bombing of the trains in Madrid one year ago today. Where we call our terrorist disaster 9-11, they call theirs 11-M (which sounds better in Spanish). I’m happy to say, the kids actually stopped smoking, shut up, and observed it respectfully. Rachael, an English girl at another neighboring booth, was here last year when the bombings occurred. She tells me they actually used one of the neighboring pavilions in the convention center to house and identify the bodies. And AULA WENT ON. More proof that this event is inhuman. Sheesh. Also, I did not realize until today that a station I used to go to Seville is the one that was heavily bombed. Mumbai, Beirut, and Madrid in one trip – it is officially a hat-trick.
And now for something completely different:
After the fair I took another trip downtown on the hotel shuttle. The reason being, I was in search of items with which to refill my mini-bar (no alcohol, just Coke, water, and snacks). I get these occasional bouts of uber-tightness from my mother. And, I just can’t stand getting screwed.
So, getting off the bus, I’m looking at the clock on my cell-phone, to see if I might actually have time to quickly hop into the Metro station where there are shops, buy my items, and then hop on the same bus back to the hotel after it circles around. Absorbed in my scheme as I am, looking at my phone, I walk into what I think is the Metro entrance, but is actually a very firm pane of glass. Ouch. I recover quickly enough that only a few amused Spaniards inside have a chance to get a look at the moron. I walk briskly on down the sidewalk. No way I’m going back in that entrance.
I’m ok, but my pride is wounded. I walk into a store on the street. None of my items. I buy a Twix to make myself feel better. Then I enter the Metro station by another entrance. No one snickers, but I can feel them looking, I just know it. I look in several more stores and vending machines. No luck. I do find a book in English. I go back up to the street for some walkabout. Several more stores, no items. Or, items, but the wrong size. No Mini-Kit-Kat? What? I’m now convinced there exists a store where hotels buy items for mini-bars that one can find nowhere else.
Humiliated and defeated, I’m in a very anti-social mood. I need some comfort. I see Burger King. I don’t even go inside. I go to the walk-up window. I return to the Metro area, eating as I go, to get a cab back to the hotel. I may be crushed and demoralized, but my stomach is full.
Cinco Minutos
The one outstanding feature of the day was the five minutes of silence for the victims of the terrorist bombing of the trains in Madrid one year ago today. Where we call our terrorist disaster 9-11, they call theirs 11-M (which sounds better in Spanish). I’m happy to say, the kids actually stopped smoking, shut up, and observed it respectfully. Rachael, an English girl at another neighboring booth, was here last year when the bombings occurred. She tells me they actually used one of the neighboring pavilions in the convention center to house and identify the bodies. And AULA WENT ON. More proof that this event is inhuman. Sheesh. Also, I did not realize until today that a station I used to go to Seville is the one that was heavily bombed. Mumbai, Beirut, and Madrid in one trip – it is officially a hat-trick.
And now for something completely different:
After the fair I took another trip downtown on the hotel shuttle. The reason being, I was in search of items with which to refill my mini-bar (no alcohol, just Coke, water, and snacks). I get these occasional bouts of uber-tightness from my mother. And, I just can’t stand getting screwed.
So, getting off the bus, I’m looking at the clock on my cell-phone, to see if I might actually have time to quickly hop into the Metro station where there are shops, buy my items, and then hop on the same bus back to the hotel after it circles around. Absorbed in my scheme as I am, looking at my phone, I walk into what I think is the Metro entrance, but is actually a very firm pane of glass. Ouch. I recover quickly enough that only a few amused Spaniards inside have a chance to get a look at the moron. I walk briskly on down the sidewalk. No way I’m going back in that entrance.
I’m ok, but my pride is wounded. I walk into a store on the street. None of my items. I buy a Twix to make myself feel better. Then I enter the Metro station by another entrance. No one snickers, but I can feel them looking, I just know it. I look in several more stores and vending machines. No luck. I do find a book in English. I go back up to the street for some walkabout. Several more stores, no items. Or, items, but the wrong size. No Mini-Kit-Kat? What? I’m now convinced there exists a store where hotels buy items for mini-bars that one can find nowhere else.
Humiliated and defeated, I’m in a very anti-social mood. I need some comfort. I see Burger King. I don’t even go inside. I go to the walk-up window. I return to the Metro area, eating as I go, to get a cab back to the hotel. I may be crushed and demoralized, but my stomach is full.
AULA Day Two: Senor de Los Anillos
Hordes of high schoolers. I am Frodo, trapped in Mordor by swarms of hideous Orcs (but even the Ors were able to communicate in the common tongue), and I have no Sam as boon companion. The loitering and smoking at the snack stand (Mt Doom) has already begun. Mordor is the size of an airbus hangar, yet there is already a visible miasma of smoke. The slopes of the mountain are strewn with the litter of Orc meals. Next to me the juggler (Nazgul) continues to draw in students to the British Council booth (Sauran’s Tower).
Mt. Doom and environs
Actually, by the end, this day turned out to be much better for student interest. I got some very good hits. Now I just have to reel them in. Maybe these kids actually signed up for busses, rather than being herded onto them. They smoke more though, and that is muy mal. I also met a woman working in the commercial sector of the US embassy. She has agreed to help me plan trips in the future. Hell, she had no choice, I’m the only American here.
Sauron's Tower
After a short return to the hotel I take a shuttle into town. Finally, the real Madrid! I navigate the Metro to La Latina stop, where I meet Celene (French girl from neighboring booth) and a friend for a couple of drinks at a neighborhood cerveceria. The fun does not last long, as I must catch the return shuttle to the hotel and get some sleep before another long day. I doubt I’ll participate on this visit in any of the famous Madrileno all-night partying. Alas…
Mt. Doom and environs
Actually, by the end, this day turned out to be much better for student interest. I got some very good hits. Now I just have to reel them in. Maybe these kids actually signed up for busses, rather than being herded onto them. They smoke more though, and that is muy mal. I also met a woman working in the commercial sector of the US embassy. She has agreed to help me plan trips in the future. Hell, she had no choice, I’m the only American here.
Sauron's Tower
After a short return to the hotel I take a shuttle into town. Finally, the real Madrid! I navigate the Metro to La Latina stop, where I meet Celene (French girl from neighboring booth) and a friend for a couple of drinks at a neighborhood cerveceria. The fun does not last long, as I must catch the return shuttle to the hotel and get some sleep before another long day. I doubt I’ll participate on this visit in any of the famous Madrileno all-night partying. Alas…
Wednesday, March 9, 2005
AULA: Spanish for hell.
I must be in hell, because:
1) This is a 5 day, 9 hours per day, event. I am at my booth alone. This is still day one.
2) Day one has mostly been a parade of annoying high schoolers, most not at all interested in what they are seeing here, because they were all bussed in by their escuela. They are just collecting brochures and checking each other out. I’ve been promised the serious grad students come later in the week.
3) A large proportion of these high school students smoke, with no concern to being indoors, around grown-ups, whatever. Probably because the grown-ups are just as into it. They all do this as they walk around, looking at different booths, ashing wherever, stubbing wherever, but they especially do it as they take breaks near the refreshment and snack carts. Wanna guess where one is? Yeah, next to my booth.
4) An incredibly small proportion of these students (almost nil) speak English. I just read that the Spanish are behind only the Italians in this aspect (the Arkansas and South Carolina of Europe, I suppose). Now, I speak enough Spanish to communicate anyways (I managed to argue with, and cuss out a cabbie this morning), but they can’t go to my university if they don’t speak any English, which makes me wonder why the hell I’m even here (no other US schools are). But what about my university's English as a Second Language (ESL) program, you ask? That brings me to…
5) The British Council. This Brit gov’t organization promotes both the study of English the language, and studying in England the place. They really have their stuff together. Their booth is next to mine (opposite snacks and smokers). They have a juggler, refreshments, finger-food, a large staff, etc. The British Council also offers a wide array of cheap English language programs, right here in Spain. Why go abroad for ESL at college prices? Anyway, our program assumes some knowledge. Most of these kids have none.
6) Past the British Council somewhere is another booth. I don’t see it, but I certainly hear it. They are playing the same promo reel, loudly, over and over and over… driving me INSANE!
7) The only thing that can save me from complete boredom/insanity, is watching the females who walk by, in their well-fitted European jeans. Then I must remind myself that many are probably underage. Hell. I’m in hell.
8) I can’t forget the guys though. I will say this – the mullet is alive and well in Spain, and mainstream. Not quite the same as ours. It is a short fan-like mullet, combined with even shorter (usually crew-cut) hair on top. I’ve heard it’s a soccer thing. We’ll call it the Euro-mullet.
Four more days. Four more days. I must get a book. Or three. I knew the Lord would punish me for the fun I had in Seville. I'm only laughing on the blog, believe me.
1) This is a 5 day, 9 hours per day, event. I am at my booth alone. This is still day one.
2) Day one has mostly been a parade of annoying high schoolers, most not at all interested in what they are seeing here, because they were all bussed in by their escuela. They are just collecting brochures and checking each other out. I’ve been promised the serious grad students come later in the week.
3) A large proportion of these high school students smoke, with no concern to being indoors, around grown-ups, whatever. Probably because the grown-ups are just as into it. They all do this as they walk around, looking at different booths, ashing wherever, stubbing wherever, but they especially do it as they take breaks near the refreshment and snack carts. Wanna guess where one is? Yeah, next to my booth.
4) An incredibly small proportion of these students (almost nil) speak English. I just read that the Spanish are behind only the Italians in this aspect (the Arkansas and South Carolina of Europe, I suppose). Now, I speak enough Spanish to communicate anyways (I managed to argue with, and cuss out a cabbie this morning), but they can’t go to my university if they don’t speak any English, which makes me wonder why the hell I’m even here (no other US schools are). But what about my university's English as a Second Language (ESL) program, you ask? That brings me to…
5) The British Council. This Brit gov’t organization promotes both the study of English the language, and studying in England the place. They really have their stuff together. Their booth is next to mine (opposite snacks and smokers). They have a juggler, refreshments, finger-food, a large staff, etc. The British Council also offers a wide array of cheap English language programs, right here in Spain. Why go abroad for ESL at college prices? Anyway, our program assumes some knowledge. Most of these kids have none.
6) Past the British Council somewhere is another booth. I don’t see it, but I certainly hear it. They are playing the same promo reel, loudly, over and over and over… driving me INSANE!
7) The only thing that can save me from complete boredom/insanity, is watching the females who walk by, in their well-fitted European jeans. Then I must remind myself that many are probably underage. Hell. I’m in hell.
8) I can’t forget the guys though. I will say this – the mullet is alive and well in Spain, and mainstream. Not quite the same as ours. It is a short fan-like mullet, combined with even shorter (usually crew-cut) hair on top. I’ve heard it’s a soccer thing. We’ll call it the Euro-mullet.
Four more days. Four more days. I must get a book. Or three. I knew the Lord would punish me for the fun I had in Seville. I'm only laughing on the blog, believe me.
Madrid: Back to Work (work day 24)
I go to the fair venue, Feria de Madrid, to register and set up. Wow, it’s big. You could store airplanes in this venue. Many airplanes. There are also some la-ti-da set-ups from some of these schools. I might look a little funny in my little booth over there.
I go back to the hotel, hop on the computer and get some work done. I finally have my return tickets to the States booked. I wasn't able to schedule any more off-time in France, but eh, I'm rapidly growing sick of parts of Europe that are not Seville. I will however have two nights in NYC, where I have never been before. I also, in the whole package, set up my flights to Mumbai and Casablanca in April. Some of these will be on Virgin. Whoo-hoo! I hear Virgin's awesome! And, it was actually the cheapest option, so I can justify it.
Still haven't made it to downtown Madrid.
I go back to the hotel, hop on the computer and get some work done. I finally have my return tickets to the States booked. I wasn't able to schedule any more off-time in France, but eh, I'm rapidly growing sick of parts of Europe that are not Seville. I will however have two nights in NYC, where I have never been before. I also, in the whole package, set up my flights to Mumbai and Casablanca in April. Some of these will be on Virgin. Whoo-hoo! I hear Virgin's awesome! And, it was actually the cheapest option, so I can justify it.
Still haven't made it to downtown Madrid.
Sevilla Bachanalia (the rest of vacation)
So. Yes, last night was fun. En route to Calle Betis (American bars, Spanish guys looking to hook up with American girls or fight American guys) I made friends with a couple of northerners. They convinced me to try a different venue: Plaza de Alfalfa. Yes, like the bean and the Little Rascal. People in this plaza hang out on the street and drink alcohol they have brought with them, occasionally going into an actual bar. We are offered drugs (don’t accept) and shots (do accept) then go to a pirate themed club called Dubloon, or something like that. The girls I’m with somehow berate the doorman into letting us in for free, bypassing a line two blocks long. Not sure how long we were there. Late.
My cell, sink and door
DAY THREE
Morning: breakfast, then Internet café. Hours and hours of online life. I actually manage to catch up on my work e-mail, for now. Halle-f’n-luyah. Afterwards I go to a local Irish pub and meet a couple of cool girls, Nancy and Melanie, Greek and Welsh respectively. We are supposed to meet tonight to go out. Let you know how it works out.
Next I go back to the hostel. Read. Drink more Stoli.
So I meet the girls back at the Irish pub. One of the bartenders and another American guy join us. We next go to a Scottish bar. Yes, there are such things. Our bartender friend decides to start ordering rounds of Jager. It all goes downhill from there. I eventually get separated from my little posse and end up wandering back to my hostel alone. No idea what time it was.
DAY FOUR
I spend a few hours feeling bad about how much I drank the previous night, then begin again. I finally make it down to Calle Betis, and another Irish pub. Here I meet another two Americans, Seth and Jesse. These two are actually my age and live in Seville, teaching English. Seth also used to be a bouncer, so we have tons of great stories to compare. We hop to another bar, Long Island, and have pizza delivered while playing darts. Jesse takes off and the boys wander down to another place back on Calle Betis, Mia Soul, I believe. Seth and I talk and drink for hours. We talk so much that we forget to keep hitting on the French girls next to us, and they leave. Then Seth almost gets us into a fight with some US military guys. We could have taken them (Navy, ha), but I smoothed things over. We do a shot of tequila, and we’re all friends. The bar closes. We try to talk our way into a private club party, but it doesn’t work. We part ways and head home.
Cathedral again
DAY FIVE
Starting to feel a little touched in the head. I’ve been traveling for a month now. At present, the only constant in my life is e-mail and a crappy hostel room. I’ve met some cool people here in Seville, but I still can’t help feeling a bit lonely. They have so far all been “single-serving friends”, a la Fight Club. Hang out for a day, then never see them again. God forbid, am I homesick? I find myself actually looking forward to working again. Whoa. I am definitely touched.
I shower, check e-mail, and pig out at Tex-Mex, a bar-restaurant (guess what kind) just off the cathedral. Now I’m writing this, drinking Guinness, and watching Spanish League football.
Continuing, I finally get around to buying some presents for people. If you get one, you better act elated. I finish my Stoli, then go out one last time. I meet some English girls and defend them from the advances of more military guys. They appreciate it, but not enough, if you know what I mean. Bed.
DAY SIX
La Duena of this little hostel bangs on the door, waking me, telling me to leave or pay another day. I leave. I check e-mail one last time, eat a burger, then get on the train. At the Madrid station I once again catch the hotel shuttle and check into my home for the next week. I spend all evening watching TV.
Observations:
The one worth remembering is this: I have never visited a city with a higher concentration of beautiful young women, ever (Jaco, Costa Rica doesn’t count - those were hookers). Ironically, a good half of these are not Spanish. That non-half is mostly American, plus others from all over. Someone is doing a great job of recruiting all the beautiful people for language programs overseas. Or maybe it’s just Seville. Either way, it actually pisses me off when I think about it too much. Dammit.
Last one I saw, at the train station
In case you are wondering, yes, I left a lot out.
My cell, sink and door
DAY THREE
Morning: breakfast, then Internet café. Hours and hours of online life. I actually manage to catch up on my work e-mail, for now. Halle-f’n-luyah. Afterwards I go to a local Irish pub and meet a couple of cool girls, Nancy and Melanie, Greek and Welsh respectively. We are supposed to meet tonight to go out. Let you know how it works out.
Next I go back to the hostel. Read. Drink more Stoli.
So I meet the girls back at the Irish pub. One of the bartenders and another American guy join us. We next go to a Scottish bar. Yes, there are such things. Our bartender friend decides to start ordering rounds of Jager. It all goes downhill from there. I eventually get separated from my little posse and end up wandering back to my hostel alone. No idea what time it was.
DAY FOUR
I spend a few hours feeling bad about how much I drank the previous night, then begin again. I finally make it down to Calle Betis, and another Irish pub. Here I meet another two Americans, Seth and Jesse. These two are actually my age and live in Seville, teaching English. Seth also used to be a bouncer, so we have tons of great stories to compare. We hop to another bar, Long Island, and have pizza delivered while playing darts. Jesse takes off and the boys wander down to another place back on Calle Betis, Mia Soul, I believe. Seth and I talk and drink for hours. We talk so much that we forget to keep hitting on the French girls next to us, and they leave. Then Seth almost gets us into a fight with some US military guys. We could have taken them (Navy, ha), but I smoothed things over. We do a shot of tequila, and we’re all friends. The bar closes. We try to talk our way into a private club party, but it doesn’t work. We part ways and head home.
Cathedral again
DAY FIVE
Starting to feel a little touched in the head. I’ve been traveling for a month now. At present, the only constant in my life is e-mail and a crappy hostel room. I’ve met some cool people here in Seville, but I still can’t help feeling a bit lonely. They have so far all been “single-serving friends”, a la Fight Club. Hang out for a day, then never see them again. God forbid, am I homesick? I find myself actually looking forward to working again. Whoa. I am definitely touched.
I shower, check e-mail, and pig out at Tex-Mex, a bar-restaurant (guess what kind) just off the cathedral. Now I’m writing this, drinking Guinness, and watching Spanish League football.
Continuing, I finally get around to buying some presents for people. If you get one, you better act elated. I finish my Stoli, then go out one last time. I meet some English girls and defend them from the advances of more military guys. They appreciate it, but not enough, if you know what I mean. Bed.
DAY SIX
La Duena of this little hostel bangs on the door, waking me, telling me to leave or pay another day. I leave. I check e-mail one last time, eat a burger, then get on the train. At the Madrid station I once again catch the hotel shuttle and check into my home for the next week. I spend all evening watching TV.
Observations:
The one worth remembering is this: I have never visited a city with a higher concentration of beautiful young women, ever (Jaco, Costa Rica doesn’t count - those were hookers). Ironically, a good half of these are not Spanish. That non-half is mostly American, plus others from all over. Someone is doing a great job of recruiting all the beautiful people for language programs overseas. Or maybe it’s just Seville. Either way, it actually pisses me off when I think about it too much. Dammit.
Last one I saw, at the train station
In case you are wondering, yes, I left a lot out.
Friday, March 4, 2005
Vacation, Day One: Dispatch from Room Cero Cero
Detail of the cathedral
I woke up very, very, very late. As late as I used to habitually wake up when I worked in a bar. It was wonderful, even though my feet were cold. This cheap hostel I’ve found, right in the middle of old Seville, does not have heat. My room is the size of a jail cell. I have a sink, but no toilet. That, and the shower (hot water, thank God), are down the hall. It suites my needs and actually reminds me of the circumstances I lived in while working in Antigua, Guatemala. This place smells better, however.
More detail on yesterday: the Americans I met immediately after disembarking my cab were two 20-year-old college girls. One turned 21 that night, hence me meeting all the friends showing up for the bash. I felt like the old guy in the club, but they were all very nice. The place we drank in has live traditional music and Flamenco dancing. It was packed. With Americans. Surprisingly, quite a number of locals decide to go there anyway. Maybe Seville isn’t as anti-American as I’d thought most of Spain has gradually turned, probably due to the revenue all the language students bring in.
North side of Cathedral
On to today: I went on a walkabout (once I got out of bed). Basically, I circumnavigated the old city, first looking for a place I’d heard had wireless, then walking back along the river once I found that said place did not open until the evening. While walking along the river (I must say, Southville’s is better), I met another American girl, jogging, who gave me some better advice in getting wired. This place is right across from the cathedral. Checked e-mail and Jabbered (inter-office instant messaging) with co-workers. It is amazing that stuff like that works instantly, even trans-Atlantic.
my hostel is the second down the row
(A note on walking in the old, old city of Seville: things are cramped. If you are claustrophopic, don’t come here. Many of these blocks are so closely spaced that you feel like you are in a large building, except the hallways have no roof, and cars and scooters occasionally drive through them. Oh, and the hallways don’t meet at right angles like they should.)
I returned to my hostel to shower. I could not do this before, as I had no soap or shampoo, which I bought on walkabout. There are no amenities here. It’s ok, I like being self-sufficient. I also fixed my shoe. Part of it had separated. Super-glue, bought with the cleaning products, fixed this. J. Crew, improve the quality of your materials.
Some King
I ate a dinner of tapas at a nearby establishment, then went to check e-mail again. After that I went to a grocery store. Met yet another American. As it was getting dark, I asked advice on where to go this evening. He told me. I’ll tell you later if the advice was good.
Back in my hostel room, I have a little one-man international party. I drink Russian vodka (Stoli), purchased in an Emirati airport duty-free, mixed with Spanish O.J. (Don Simon), and read a Brit current events mag (The Economist, best of the best). I am SO cosmopolitan. Now I write on a computer probably assembled in Asia somewhere. Tune in next time for the update on this evening’s adventures, and whether or not I actually decide to go anywhere else but Seville on my vacation.
Cathedral
P.S.
The Spanish is coming back. Feels good. I’ll need it for the fair in Madrid coming up.
Thursday, March 3, 2005
Travel-o-rama (Day 23)
Flight from Dubai to Istanbul.
Flight from Istanbul to Madrid: Begin Vacation Time.
Bus from airport to the hotel I will be staying at in a few days. Here I grab clothes I'll need on my vacation travel out of my wet suitcase (Damn Turks left it on the tarmac while it was raining) then leave the rest in storage. I also send a packet of stuff back to my university.
Metro across town to train station.
Train through Cordoba to Seville. This place has a serious American college student infestation. I quickly make friends with some I meet after a cab drops me in the center of town. They help me find a cheap hostel and a cool bar. I meet dozens more Americans and drink all night without any worries of having anything to do in the morning. It is wonderful. Pics and such later. I will also be adding some to the previous entry, so re-check it also.
Flight from Istanbul to Madrid: Begin Vacation Time.
Bus from airport to the hotel I will be staying at in a few days. Here I grab clothes I'll need on my vacation travel out of my wet suitcase (Damn Turks left it on the tarmac while it was raining) then leave the rest in storage. I also send a packet of stuff back to my university.
Metro across town to train station.
Train through Cordoba to Seville. This place has a serious American college student infestation. I quickly make friends with some I meet after a cab drops me in the center of town. They help me find a cheap hostel and a cool bar. I meet dozens more Americans and drink all night without any worries of having anything to do in the morning. It is wonderful. Pics and such later. I will also be adding some to the previous entry, so re-check it also.
Modern Babylon (Day 21 & 22)
That famous hotel, the Buj Al-Arab. Seven stars. 50 bucks just to walk in the door.
At breakfast, I notice our hotel is overrun with Euro-trash. Seriously, by their dress, it’s obvious that none of them caught on to the fact that the Ali G show is a joke.
I notice this because I sleep in, still feeling sick. I feel good enough to catch a cab and meet the group at the second of three school visits. I’m happy to hear I missed nothing at #1. After number two and three, we head over to the American consulate, where we are subjected to much security and then given another briefing about how they are now doing much better with issuing visas quickly to students.
1
I take a nap before dinner. We all meet down in the lobby at 8pm and decide to go to the Terrace restaurant within some big hotel complex. It is a huge, gourmet buffet. How could it be anything other than bigger and better in Dubai? Good time for a segue…
OBSERVATIONS:
Dubai. How to describe it? If there is one city you must truly see to believe, this is it. To even try to convey what it is like, I must resort to many fictional and semi-fictional pop-culture contrivances…
2
The Architecture: T.R.O.N. and Metropolis beget a bastard child on the edge of the Arabian desert. Included: Three palm-shaped island communities jutting into the Gulf (plus one shaped like a map of the world); A five-star hotel entirely underwater; Forty-five towers being built along the beach, all at once; A mall with a ski-slope inside; Foundations of the world’s tallest building. They won’t say how high, because they don’t want to give the competition (NYC) a target to beat.
The Social Atmosphere: Jabba the Hutt’s Star Wars hover-ship smashed up with a Sting video. Rather than bizarre races from distant stars, you have a mélange of races from all nations, each speaking their own brand of English, along with various native tongues. Regardless of national origin or social class, everyone knows how to dress (except the Euro-trash tourists in my hotel).
3
Transportation: European roundabouts and feeder roads on an American scale. Massive amounts of cars never having to stop at a light, yet going way out of their way to reach a destination in eyesight, all navigating through double-digit lanes. “Look Rusty, the Burj al-Arab.”
Prices: Predictably inflated, but somehow oddly justified. This is not the same as being trapped in an airport or movie theatre. Being gouged is the only sane thing happening here.
Religion: $ $ $ $ $
I don’t know how the mullahs across the Gulf can call America the Great Satan, the Corrupter of Islam, and keep a straight face, when Dubai is in their backyard.
Slavery: Legitimized by capitalism. Actually, more like indentured servitude. After all, it’s their choice to leave Bulgaria or the Philippines under iron-clad contract and come here to work 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, right? When the masses revolt, it will be a mess. Native Emiratis only compromise around 15% of the population, and they wear dresses. Spartans would cringe.
Future: my prediction is that the city-state of Dubai will leave fantastic ruins that will someday be confusingly excavated by either a post-apocalyptic human civilization or interstellar intelligent beings many, many millennia from now, wondering what the hell could have possibly been going on here to produce an amount of conspicuous construction not seen since the Pyramids, the Hanging Gardens, and the Colossus of Rhodes.
Back to who, what, when, and where. After dinner most of the other reps are catching a flight to Baku, Azerbyzan, so we say our goodbyes. Nasser, who lives in Dubai, is staying, so we hit the hotel bar for a drink. After this he takes me on a tour of all his favorite Dubai watering holes. At one, inside the Inter-Continental Hotel, we see three Filipina singers that make all previous Filipina singers look like crappy tribute bands. I am smitten. We end the night at a birthday bash at another hotel bar (as you can tell, lots of bars are located inside hotels). We stay with the Filipino theme. There are hundreds of them here. Nasser knows a lot of these guys through frequenting the spots where they work. He seems to have dated most of the females. Then to bed.
Nasser's pad in Dubai
Up in the morning for one last school visit that I set up myself. Dubai College – A Brit system secondary school. I get a student led tour, and have lunch with members of the faculty. I think I’ll end up getting some kids from here with a bit of diligent follow-up.
From the school I go to Nasser’s apartment to mooch off his wireless and do laundry for free. Thank God. I was wearing my last undershirt and pair of boxers. We both do catch-up work for several hours, until his internet connection mysteriously cuts out. It was time for another drink anyhow. This time we go to Wafi City, a huge mall, where I can first get wireless at a café and wrap up a few loose ends. We then navigate a warren of inter-connected restaurants and bars, finally settling on the first one we originally walked into. There is a great band and a favorable guy-girl ratio. I actually spark up a promising conversation with a dark-skinned beauty from Birmingham, England, but of course I have a 3:30am plane to catch and we have to leave. Nasser takes me back by my hotel to check out and then to the airport.
Tuesday, March 1, 2005
My Head Hurts, My Clothes Stink, and I Don’t Love Jesus (Day 20)
The title, by the way, is a rip from a lesser-known Jimmy Buffet song (he says “feet stink”).
Wow, I really felt bad when I woke up. This cold I've been fighting to a stalemate for the past few days has finally overtaken me. Headache? Check. Sore throat? Check. Icky green snot? Check. I get some drugs from Nasser and take twice the recommended dosage. In a few hours I feel much, much better. Maybe now that this sickness has knocked me down, it will go away.
I'm also almost out of clean clothes. It is WAY expensive to have the hotel do it here ($3 for a pair of socks!), so I am holding out until Dubai to see if it is cheaper there.
We have another late flight out. As we have to go ahead and check out of the hotel, this necessitates a lot of sitting around in the lobby and in the airport. Novotel, our lodging in Dubai, is European shi-shi to the max.
Wow, I really felt bad when I woke up. This cold I've been fighting to a stalemate for the past few days has finally overtaken me. Headache? Check. Sore throat? Check. Icky green snot? Check. I get some drugs from Nasser and take twice the recommended dosage. In a few hours I feel much, much better. Maybe now that this sickness has knocked me down, it will go away.
I'm also almost out of clean clothes. It is WAY expensive to have the hotel do it here ($3 for a pair of socks!), so I am holding out until Dubai to see if it is cheaper there.
We have another late flight out. As we have to go ahead and check out of the hotel, this necessitates a lot of sitting around in the lobby and in the airport. Novotel, our lodging in Dubai, is European shi-shi to the max.
Oman, or Middle East: the Movie (Day 19)
So we get up. Honestly, one good look at the beach, in the morning light, tells me this is where the Mid East meets the Caribbean. This is the Hollywood version of the Middle East. Rugged hills, sleepy town, etc, etc...
His highness
The school we go to is impressive. These kids are young, but know what they are looking for (even at 7th!). These are the ones that impress you and keep you on your toes at the same time. I feel good about it even though it is not swamped.
The ruggedness
We go back to the hotel. I actually go for a run on the beach. So proud. It has been so long.
The starkness
The fair is better that anyone imagined. Joseph went all out with the ads in local newspapers. I’d say it was 50%, 50%, Indian and Omani attendees. Afterwards we all go to eat at the hotel grill.
The playfulness
The inlaid mapness
His highness
The school we go to is impressive. These kids are young, but know what they are looking for (even at 7th!). These are the ones that impress you and keep you on your toes at the same time. I feel good about it even though it is not swamped.
The ruggedness
We go back to the hotel. I actually go for a run on the beach. So proud. It has been so long.
The starkness
The fair is better that anyone imagined. Joseph went all out with the ads in local newspapers. I’d say it was 50%, 50%, Indian and Omani attendees. Afterwards we all go to eat at the hotel grill.
The playfulness
The inlaid mapness
The Rain in Bahrain Falls Mainly on the Plane…(Day 18)
Woke up to rain. Yes, rain. Crazy, man. That’s like snow in Southville.
Other than rain, one more thing was weird today. In the airport, I randomly ran into Babish, the guide from my previous Mid East tour with ISN. We chatted and agreed to meet up in Dubai, where he is moving.
We got in after midnight. Our hotel is magnificent (see pics). Early school visit, so straight to bed.
Other than rain, one more thing was weird today. In the airport, I randomly ran into Babish, the guide from my previous Mid East tour with ISN. We chatted and agreed to meet up in Dubai, where he is moving.
We got in after midnight. Our hotel is magnificent (see pics). Early school visit, so straight to bed.
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