The Backpacker - uae_talk

Romacing the mist and breakfast with Pathans

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Thu, 02 Nov 2006 05:10:00 +0000

...But the songs were all wrong. 101.6 played "Bheege honth tere..." This was followed by some other romantic numbers and on came, "Ghar se nikalte hi..." Understand that it was early, yes about 6 am and stuck in a fog. In times like this emotions of many kind run rather high and fast. The romance brews. And one needs just a touch of the right songs to keep one going ahead. I wish, the songs were in reverse order (I had just passed the ghar se nikalte hi.....stage). Radio Four was a little better and 104.4 stuck to the ancient. Not the right song, I should say.

Weather, I say is the greatest equaliser, or the second best. Picture this: Early morning, with the visibility down to Zero, cold breeze and colder roads, one place does look like any other, dosent it? You are alone in the car, do not know what is around you, the trucks or car ahead of you are distinguishable only by the pattern of their red lights and the mist in thick swirls closing in fast and furiously...Imagine you have just got out of sleep and straight into this scene. Would you know where you are? No way. Until you turn on the radio. And if, if the radio is playing a Spanish number or Brazilian, you will not be wrong in assuming that you are in some other place.

Today was just one of those "lost in another world" days. All kinds of fancy overtook me and I was up and about on the roads at 5.13 am. No, do not ask me what I was doing out there so early. I did take a peek outside my window and saw nothing...and that actually helped me make my decision. It is not everyday one gets to wake up into a misty dream. And since I have covered 200 km to reach my office which is 30 km away from where I live. Naturally when everyone drives with their hazard on, and keep a safe 5m distance between each other, one is apt to feel a little romantic and lose ones head and feel like wandering away into the mist and get lost in it.

Thus, having swung onto a road that had no signboard I reached, after condiserable distance, another road which lead to a sand pit. Now, the piles of sand also takes on a romantic feature when enveloped in mist and on that mound of sand I sat till the mist settled into droplets on my hair. You see, the temperature also works hand in hand with the mist. It drops down drastically and one cannot help but shiver slightly when the wind catches the bare arm and back.

I was hungry. Cold is a good appetiser I found and after many many kilometers I reached civilisation...if one can call Al Qouz that. If I were to drive back on the roads I drove on this morning, i would never find Al Quoz. It is very strange that when one gets lost, they do end up somewhere quite by chance or luck but when one is setting out to find a turn or a road, you dont. The long and short is that when I pulled up outside a hotel, weak from hunger, I was greeted by a bunch...no an army of Pathans (as we call our brothers from Pakistan) huddled around the few tables devouring steaming hot parathas! Not the one to back away from the sea of eyes, I joined them. Ah, the warmth of human touch...and tea and parathas...and I reached work just in time.

But the songs, I still say were all wrong.

And some more...

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 10:05:00 +0000

...Then there is the usual question I (am sure all of you too) face often.

"Where do you live". This is one of those 'productive' questions that lead to many other sub-questions which again are capable of producing many more little question...for which I dont have a word.

The usual questions that follow the 'mother' question.

"Do you cook yourself?" (I mean one can be forgiven for wanting to know whether I cook, but not for asking an impertinent question such as that!! One can be, with little effort, kind to the language, no?)

Yes, kind people. I do "cook" myself and believe me I taste wonderful with pepper and salt. Top that with honey and a dash of lime juice, I am the mother of all "foods." I am quite healthy too, you see.

Do you drive yourself?

No. I drive others. I drive them up the walls, off the roads and occasionally when gripped with a mystic power, I drive them into different lanes.

What language you speak?"

I am speaking Greek. It is a pleasure to see that you understand it in English!

(I like this question. It gives me great satisfaction to know that 'English' is after all only a cover up for the more horrifying language one hears around.)

This is the question I wish someone would ask me.

"Who are you?"

My answer would be: I am the person who does the job. You must be the other.

(Curtesy: The Departed)

Facing an interview

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 06:55:00 +0000

Have you, as a media person, been "interviewed?" Of course, I dont mean for the prestigious awards or such things, but on a simple, one-on-one terms by the very person you have been assigned to interview? Ah, that is the trick. The interviewee is always curious, despite being in the public front for long, he/she still wants to know! Knowledge, of course is everyone's right, but shouldnt the poor over worked, underpaid scribes be spared the barrage of useless questions they are sometimes asked? Naturally one can make allowances for the fact that the "interviewee" is not in possession of the scribes quick wit and intelligence and their subtlety, but as upright, educated and respected members of the society, shouldnt they at least posses a grain of knowledge as to what to ask the scribe?

It always begins like this. I present my card.

"Oh so you are Anj...?"

(No, I am in the habit of carrying another persons' business card)

"Where are you from?"

(Next time I will make sure I get that bit of info on the card too)

"From Kerala?" (If the person happens to be from Kerala. If not, they stick to good old India)

(You see it is a sin to have a Thomas to your name. It is a dead give away. Never mind that Thomas Hardy or Jefferson were from USA)

"Where do you live?"

"You are a reporter? Okay, so what do you do? You write everything?"

(No. I dont write for Al Queda or the KKK, but yes, I am a reporter, so whats okay about it?"

"You want to interview me?"

(Oops, no. I just wanted to ask your opinion of my hair)

"You are really from India? You dont look like that"?

(This could be in reference to my get-up. Its not my fault really if I look like am about to go on a holiday to the mountians, right? And what do Indians look like?)

"You studied this writing? Journalism? What a cool job. I like writing also"

(Cool job? What does that mean? Do they know that the temperatures at work place can rise to a 100 degree centigrade if an article is not submitted in time?)

Then if a woman, they observe you rather closely and get straight the heart of the matter.

"Wow, you can dress casually? Jeans? Always? You meet many (wink wink) people, right? Lucky. You know, I dont like dressing up either, but you know how it is.

"You dont look like a journalist really. It is so easy to talk to you"

(Notice that I have not begun my interview yet. Grudgingly one is forced to draw their attention to the matter at hand. After some deft manouvering, we are finally facing each other. Then suddenly in the middle of a serious issue, a question."

"You will write all this? (and even more suddenly), "I like your jacket. You are a lawyer you say? Then how do you write?

(Oh, I rather forgot to tell you I have been blessed with special powers that convert the laws in the book into an dratted interview, so simple really)

"You are different you know, rather pretty." (That is not an answer to my question)

But one high ranking official took the cake.

"I am glad you are a writer. You are nice."

Why?

"Because you are not a lawyer"

On the way...

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Tue, 31 Oct 2006 04:20:00 +0000

There is a saying (I say so myself of course) that if you must reach anywhere and you are not sure of the roads, there are people (cars) you should follow and people you should not follow.

First, never follow a Pathan. No. Because his interests do not lie in the same place as yours. For you it may appear at first that he is the incarnation of the "god guide" but before you know it, he will slip away to some area, industrial most likely and smile in the most demeaning manner possible. And you have already lost your way.

Never follow a truck. They are quite baffling in the routes they opt to reach their destination. They will lead you right up to the point you should take a turn, (obviously with a 10 tonne truck in front there is very little chance for you to see the exit anyway) and suddenly decide that the straight road is after all an easier route. What happens to you? Well, you have lost your precious exit and and forced to go all over the place before finding another exit or a round-about or anything through which you can find your way back.

The Land Cruisers, Patrols and anything that looks like a mountain on wheels. Never follow them. Their primary objective in life being cruising on the lanes, which, going by the manner in they are built is quite exciting. They can easily knock down the smaller cars which have the good sense of keeping safely away from them. But if you are following any of them, you are more likely to run into the nearest car (because no car will ever give you right of way since you are not a threat at all) or drive off road and be stuck in the soft sand.

To reach anywhere, do not follow women drivers unless you have time, patience and no destination what so ever.

Do not follow the men with ties and stiff shoulders looking straight ahead and clutching the wheels with both their hands. They are the determined lot who will never let you get close, never let you pass and lead you astray. In all likelihood they are people who are not going you way. (However for this you must first establish which zone/area has the maximum number of people arriving to offices wearing tie. If your particular area does not have people with ties, then forget following them. Get rid of them as quickly as you can)

That does not leave you many ideal driver you can follow. SO you follow your instincts.

But, there is a but here, we know how often the good instincts fail. You land up in a place you had never seen before. So what, you say, so what if you get lost? There is plenty of time to get to work (this because you are an early riser and have hit the roads at 6 am to reach office by 9.30) and the sun is not up yet.

You have reached some place which is empty of cars and add some speed because you know after crawling at 0kmph your car is itching for a run. You convince yourself it is all for the best. You have after all, discovered new roads and the fact that so early in the morning there is no traffic on that particluar road. Then you are very close to the desert with no idea whatsoever what place it is. You salvage the situation thus.

Park your car wherever you please! The weather is very pleasent, the sun in only a faint colour in the sky and there are plenty of sand dunes on which you can sit, sleep or stretch and watch the sun rise in all glory. Far away on the roads few trucks or cars roar by enthusiastically and the sound that reaches your ear is smooth and lulls you into another world.

The wind catches, sand flies...and slowly the sun appears. You want to lie there forever....

You have to get to work. All because the sun rises rather sharply.

Watching

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Mon, 30 Oct 2006 08:45:00 +0000

Have you tried watching people? Oh, I do not mean the ones at the bus stands or the airports or even the railway stations waiting for their transport. I mean, people at work, or rather just out of work in a place called Media City!

It is a pleasurable way of engaging time, if you have any and if you dont, it is a good enough reason to find time just to watch people.

People, I always maintain, follow a pattern. It matters not their colour, nature of job, their nationality or race. They will behave just like any other. The only noticeable difference between one and the other is the manner of display. Display, I dare say. Yes, for that is what it amounts to in the end. Display of self.

Watch the women leaving work. I mean one goes home from work, dont they? So for what earthly reason one must address their hair or lipstick, sandals, heels or coats which have served their purpose through the day! Forget the make up. It is the walk I find most interesting. Especially those of the women. With the walk comes the observation of the shoes, excuse me, no, not shoes but evil and dangerous protrusions that merely cup the heel and make hideous tick-ticking sounds on the roads while the female body attached to it sways dangerously on the sidewalk. Of course, there is a good reason to sway. For if you cast an eye around you will also notice many of the male species looking just for that oppurtunity to lend a hand in steadying the swaying female.

I watch, yes, I do. Oh, love watching people. I gives me an insight to the human mind. Hercule Poirot would have been proud of me. I always wonder if it is right for a right handed man to wear a watch on his right hand, I watch the colour of the shoes, the movement of the eyes, the laughter, I watch which side a woman carries a bag, I wonder what the miniscule bag contains, why the lipstick shines, why the sudden flattening of tummy in the presence of the other sex, why the quick smile and jerky laughter, the slightly loud and ill-informed talks of world issues, the swinging of the car keys when the car itself is parked few hundred meters away? the change of accent (this common among the Asians especially in the presence of the European counterpart). Oh yes, watching people has its merits.

Then there is the very garment that asks for attention. The skirts that run up the thighs without hesitation or the large necklaces which come as a relief to the exposed upper body...suits worn unnecessarily over the mis-matching inner...this again a very peculiar Asian trait. Oh, I wonder, yes, I do why one must so display ones ignorance in style? I mean what is so wrong about wearing comfortable clothing without sticking out a mile in discomfort!

Then there is what is called watching the watchers. That domain is almost exclusively male dominated. You can be sure to find them all over the place. Their reaction when they are caught "watching" is rather more interesting. No man or woman like to be caught staring or oogling or merely watching a pair of uncovered legs or inside open t-shirts as the case maybe. The shy, conspiratorial grin that follows upon being caught is worth the wait. You should make it a point to catch the 'watcher' off guard.

But when all this happens in a place that has a multiple-coloured people, things hot up. Everyone is vying for attention and Media City's the one place I have seen when no one minds being oogled at. You do not hear someone rush up to a watcher and call him/her a creep or a waster. Here it is a part of the game. A game of making the right match. For whatever reason.

Being alone

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Fri, 27 Oct 2006 08:50:00 +0000

You know what you should do at night? No, forget the usual pubs-movies-friends-beaches type of entertainment. What you must do is connect with yourself. And how do you acheive that, you ask. I tell you in one simple sentence.

To connect to yourself, be alone.

How do you sit alone in your room? No, do not sit alone in your room. Drive. Go away. Go far. The farther you go the better. In the UAE, you do not have to worry about distances. The roads are well laid out, there are innumerable fuel stations along the way, the police-rescue facility is great, and on a three lane one way road, there are very little chances of running into another car even if your "spirited" enough to snake across the lanes at great speed while singing at the top of your voice.

Then suddenly being alone does not scare you. The lights along the way look like a sting of brightly lit lamps and the skies just above is so calm. The stretches of harsh desert are subdued and if yu stick your head out, you may even smell the sea on one side.

Yes, the driving alone is wonderful. Pull up by the road and speak to the stars or even spring over the fence and dash up a dune. No body bothers you. The only fear you have is in your mind. There is no cause for fear. If you fear, your mind will not allow you the freedom to enjoy what you see.

Pray what do you fear?

Not so true!

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Wed, 25 Oct 2006 04:40:00 +0000

If you have someone telling you Dubai never sleeps, kick that person where it hurts and embark upon the task of uncovering the truth all by yourself. It will help if you have starved the previous night, had no sleep because the tummy wouldnt stop growling and make your way to the first available sit-down hotel for breakfast.

But that is the catch! You will NOT find any such hotels eager to appease your hunger before 7 am. They remain gloriously indifferent to your quest, snobbishly announcing some wierd time of working hours. The lousy, more snobbish ones open at 7.30 am and 8 am and care a damn if you pass out from hunger at their door step. (Hope the Saravana Bhavans', Kamats', Emirtates House, Annapoorna's are reading this)

Of course, you may find plenty of alternatives at the fuel stations, the Subway, 24X7 or cafeterias (God bless the enterprising Indians and their life saving 'churrut' parathas) but not a decent south Indian breakfast comprising of idli and vada. No way no sir. And it is most vexing to go "restaurant-hopping" first thing in the morning.

Who says Dubai does not sleep? So dear readers, if you are in some corner of the world harbouring the pleasent thoughts of wolfing "Dubai-vadas" at 6 am (curtesy the info you have been given about the nocturnal status of this golden city), please be warned that "the breakfast of your dreams" does not see the light of the day before 7 am. No foodcourts anywhere open before 9 am and if you are in a hurry the best bet is the cafeterias that have sprung up precisely for this reason. There are plenty of hungry people about very early in the morning who do not have the luxury of eating a home-made breakfast, but who have to content with "paratha rolls (the roll refering to the filling of keema, eggs and tomatoes or paratha_ chai."

The other options being the fuel stations and damp or cold sandwiches and burgers you must warm all by yourselves and that when you are very hungry is not a very good move, limp croissants from the day before and when you find all these, there is the question of coffee and finding a place to sit.

No Dubai is not friendly when it comes to giving you a good breakfast. In fact it does not encourage hunger before a stipulated time. It chugs along on its own pace. It does not give you breakfast. Not of any kind. English or Continental or Asian.