Home is where the.... WHAT is?

Canada Day. Watched the fireworks on Vancouver's Burrard Inlet, sunset, twinkling Lion's Gate Bridge and stunning mountain slopes in the background. This place is mental, and maybe actually in a good way.

Sure it's small, but there are a lot of good people here and maybe even a few decent opportunities.
But after being gone from my west coast childhood home for nearly three years, I've for the first time been confronted with the fact that it's starting to feel like a foreign place. Sure the streets are the same, the mountains lofty and familiar and the ocean gleaming– but my social life here has taken a serious hit.

But like, what was I expecting? I haven't been around in what the Gays would call eons... just two months shy of three years. And each time I come back, I call one or two fewer people. And that kinda freaks me out. I mean, it's not just that I've fallen out of touch with some old standbys... a lot of people have picked up and left, leaving some voids in what would have been ample couches to sleep on and partners in crime to drag to the bar.
But the bigger part of the picture is that the same thing could happen to my life in Toronto, the one I carved out in just two little years. It's tough starting from scratch and I've now done it four times if my year in Australia counts. Meeting a whole crop of people on which you come to rely and trust isn't a snap, but I've been lucky enough to have managed in each new place I've flung myslef, including my latest desert home, Abu Dhabi.
But I mean, c'mon. There's a limit to how many times one can set up shop, especially if one wants to have a group of close and loyal friends. And right now I feel like I'm maxed out.

Think I'm spreading myself too thin.

I've got amazing friends in three different cities, but I think it's time to cool it and focus on the people I have, and fuck trying to take anyone else in.
Just my thoughts. But I miss Vancouver. It's a fucking incredible place. And I've got incredible memories of it.

Launchpad ready

Well it's down till one day – the months of anticipation will culminate in two weeks of insane fun through the UAE, Egypt, London and Ireland with some of the best guys in the world. One more sleep till holidays! I'm sure I'll post a crapload of crazy, and perhaps gory bits, so I'll spare the details now. But check out the new video bar I posted on the right side of the blog, especially the video at the bottom of it. It's fantastic, and had me beaming as I watched in twice in a row. What a brilliant message.

I bet you think this song is about you...

I'm kinda embarrassed. This stream of consciousness has but a measly three followers.
Ugh, the vanity of this format of expression is truly, reprehensibly wretched.

GazAHH!

I'm sand(hah!)wiched between a dune and a hard place when considering the Gaza situation from my Arabian perch.
But what I've realised is really most shocking is the INCREDIBLE, everpresent and all-important reach of American policy and the economic and political pull that the nation has on the prosperous countries of the Gulf. At every turn, Gulf leaders condemn the atrocities commited by Israel against their Arab Palestinian 'brothers', but at the same time officially do absolutely nothing militarily and turn a blind eye politically to the current 'war' for fear of upstetting their all important-but-ideoligical-enemy-when convenient western 'allies'. It's bizzare. Why aren't the Saudi Royals striking back at Israel in Palestine's defence? Politics! And money! That's why.
Living here really puts in to perspective what the West considers the 'right' of Israel to defend its contrived homeland. Countries shouldn't be based on faith, and on land supposedly given by God, of whichever religious stripe! That's an archaic recipe for strife and war.
The reality is, if Israel and people of Jewish faith didn't have so much pull, and weren't seen as closer to Christian western ideals compared to downtrodden, demonised Muslims, the Jewish state would already be blown to pulvarised bits by combined forces of the Christian west.
These are just my ramblings. But this Gaza conflict crystalises the inseperable ties of allegiances, politics and faith in war policy.
Disgusting.
Sort your shit out, Jeruselem! Of all faiths!

The silencing power of unabashed, lucky wealth

It's writer's block... blogstyle. Weird. I tried to open this website with the intention of writing something thought-provoking and, perhaps, indulgent, but the reality, unfortunately, might be a forced, premeditated entry.
It spat today a few drips. First since mid December in Abu Dhabi, and perhaps the last until next November. What an inhospitable, barren, desolate place.
Emphatically marked by the harsh unfair and incongruous reality that is
OIL.
It's a place that no modern civilisation should ever wish their folk to desperately hunker down upon what with the withering heat and complete lack of water and natural greenery... but for a few lucky Bedouin families.... the black gold struck rich, and the rest, is history.
Royals? Well, that opens up a whole (censored!! and unuttered!!!!!!) kettle of Hamour...
But the second reality on this note is... that all it seems to have taken, 60 years ago or more, to become a Royal in this scorching Bedouin land cum British protectorate cum flourishing country was business sense. And now, the entire sheikhdom is ruled by, essentially, the descendants of what was the most business-wise Bedouin family of the 1940s, 50s and 60s.
An incredible (and I mean that in the true, IN-credible [ie not credible] sense of the word) feat.
But with an emphatic 'however', they now act as God-given rulers over this sandy land of opportunity. It would seem quite a slap in the face to democracy. And quite a challenge for a Westerner, sculpted from birth to cherish my vote and my voice as a type of God-given right of my own, to accept. Nevermind appreciate.
But then, why would any Emirati, the only ethnic brand in this land who have any true relevance (not voice... you need democracy for that, methinks), and the only type of folk who, enshrined in law, will ever be regarded as citizens of this crane-covered Moonscape, ever, EVER, complain of or to an absolute ruling and archaic Government when their every qualm has, thus far, been silenced by the slick, viscous, choking and gob-stopping effect of the all-for-naught wealth gushing forth in the nation-building form of Gulf desert crude?

It kinda makes me sick. And, quite literally, rich.
And actually, I do love it here.

Personhood

Slowly becoming a real person here.
I've got my residence visa.
A car – rental, but at least I can go when and where I want.
My very own business cards!
And am in the process of getting my UAE driving and liquor licences.
The place is starting to grow on me, methinks.

LeboLust

This place is amazing! Gorgeous, and I mean gorgeous people. Holy crap. Emiratis - not so much. But Lebanese... or Libonaise en francais... are drop dead.

The downtown is hilly, with buildings clinging to steep streets, and the centre of the city GLITTERS with lights and style. It's true - it's looks a lot like the Paris of the Orient and could have been pulled from one of the fanciest bits of Europe. Who knew Lebanon was this prosperous... at least the parts I've seen.
The American University of Beirut has a stunning campus, too, perched on a lush hill cascading down to the sea - beautiful architecture, easily nicer than most Candian campuses, with a dazzling Mediterranean backdrop.

It's a bizarre place too though because there are relics fom the civil war that raged for 15 years and only ended around 1990. Like the TOWERING old Holiday Inn, which only was open for a year or two before snipers took over it and used it as an aerial war perch. It's riddled with bullet holes, has chunks missing and still has tattered curtains fluttering out of its windows. And it's at least 30 storeys tall, easily dominating that part of the skyline.
That said, it seems as though half of the downtown has been built or beautifully restored in about the past 4 years, and lots of construction is underway as well. Shiny new skyscrapers right on the ocean.
Again, you'd think you were in Europe...

EXCEPT... for the everpresent diesel fumes, and, more arrestingly, for the fact that the main cafe-FILLED square and the streets radiating from it beneath the hilltop parliament is closed to car traffic with temporary-looking metal barricades you'd expect to see surrounding a conference of world leaders. These, I assume, have been in place since the war with Israel a couple of years ago and the instability thereafter. Plus, there are checkpoints for pedestrians manned by camoflauge-clad soldiers with very large MACHINE GUNS slung round their necks and who search the purses of those entering the district. Generally, I feel safer than I do in Canada, simply because there is so much security mingled about with the BMWs and the impeccably dressed Lebs.
Anyway, all of this creates a fascinating place, with the Mediterranean lapping at the sea wall on three sides of the city - downtown is on a rocky hilly penninsula.

Went to a packed gay club last night called Acid - the nightlife here is infinitely superior to Abu Dhabi's, at least for what I'm looking for ie. hot guys, hot music, no ridiculous door policies, no hideous cookie-cutter syled bargoers, and deintely no inflated $70 cover for men without a female slung on their shoulders, ala Abu. It was US$10 for cover including a completely open bar. And yes, I vomited this morning after all-I-could-drink. It'd been years since that'd happened... until I moved to this ironically booze-soaked region.
Plus, people party until dawn, and throw after parties and actually have some killer style, in general, although some of the over-accessorising and spazzy jeans can be over the top and try-hardish.
A massive added bonus is that the night front desk manager at my hotel is a HOT GAY, so I have a personal nightlife adviser at my disposal. We awkwardly beat around that bush last night when I was asking for nightclub advice, and he warned me which one was "full of gays," but then opened up about all the hot-and-not places once I said "that's okay" to the sausage fest. Apparently, Acid goes lesbionic tonight, so it's best avoided.
Couldn't have worked out any better, and I still have Saturday night ahead of me.

O, how I wish I wasn't STILL hungover... at 10pm.
A quick half bottle of red will cure that, I'm certain!

Now, off to figure out what club to go tonight, and where to dine... and drink alone!

Leba-what?

Jesus. Or Allah. Or who the hell cares.
I just randomly booked a trip to Beirut. For TOMORROW.
I'm going to need to pay those pakistani laundry boys a pretty dirham to get my clothes back by closing time at noon.
Gotta look good for the Lebs.
OMG! Can't wait!

I passed

Yesterday was report card day, and I got lots of good checkmarks.
It was like elementary school again, with boxes for 'exceeds', 'meets', and the dreaded 'does not meet' job requirements.
So, I've passed my three-month probation a few days early, and with it have reaped my furniture allowance that will instead go to paying off my pesky student loan. Well, paying a chunk of it off, anyway.

Final verdict: 5 exceeds to 4 meets.

Are you kidding MEid?

The dawn of the Eid holiday here in the Abu Dhabs brings with it the most inexcusably wretched, solemn, minaret-blasted cleric chants from the ubiquitous mosque. For HOURS.
Who wants to listen to this crap for so long, anyway? Are they truly kidding themselves? I mean, surely, all religious people are, right? Why not devout Muslims?

...Okay, so a few days have gone by since I bitched above. It's really just holy Friday's endless droning, with no melody and with boredom creeping into the cleric's voice that I can't stand. So the thing I've got to clear up is that the calls to prayer are actually beautiful – even if they're akin to something that might drift out of a 1920s gramophone, complete with crackle. But that's part of their niche, I think. There's nothing in the world that sounds quite like a Muslim city being called to pray.

For better or worse, but it grows on you after awhile.

F- it

There's no excuse for a lack of appreciation for the arts. And if the attempted excuse harps on some frail, sad reality that an opportunity never arose to support a flourishing, vibrant and diverse culture and respect for visual and performing arts in that particular culture... than I'm afraid that's a terrible loss. There's no equivalent that can come close to harbouring the emotion and expression that is so crucial to living a rewarding, exciting and fully satisfying (subjective or not) way of life.
How did people in so many lands get by without it for so long? What a tragedy. If only they could have written their own wrenching plays about it.
I try not to be single-minded when I think like this. But how can anything replace the importance of the Arts, western or otherwise? They're just so important.
And neither religion, nor family, nor God, nor sand, nor complacency, nor entitlement nor pride can ever replace that, in my shallow, inept and predictable way of thinking, I guess.
So what I guess. Life's not a competition.
Well, actually, that's all it is. That's exactly what it is. If you don't outdo everone else, you're an insignificant fuck.

Wet Christmas

Much like the chaos/excited buzz caused by a few damp flakes of snow on the maritime shores of the 'couv, the Emirates have been atwitter with rain fever the past few days. Radio announcers discus driving tips and hold call-in shows for needy listeners to ring up and talk about whether they like the rain better... or the sun. Woo, the stimulation.
So anyway, it rained today, and not for a minute – for like, the entire morning. The thunder woke me up, and the weather nerd in me admits to leaping out of bed, throwing open my brown ultra-suede drapes (hey, they block out the light) and shoving my head out into the raindrops. Seriously, I felt the same way I used to when the rain turned to sleet in Vancouver.You know, those times when the city descended into outward, airwave-choking disdain for the "chance it might stick," but we all secretly had one hand behind our backs, fingers crossed, that we could, for a day, play in snow.
But back to the desert...
You should see how this place floods with a few milimetres of rain. Sure, there are storm drains. But I'm sure there is also 10 months of dust and garbage clogging them up, and this pervasive sentiment that, eh, it doesn't really rain here pretty sums up the attitude to their maintenance.
But apparently, year after year, the same floods of oily, gritty ashphalt water pool over the streets. From the non rain, I guess.

Christmas decorations are in store for tomorrow. I guess I'll be ramming a petroleum-based Noble Fir into the back seat of a cab tomorrow. I guess, in a way, I'm buying locally! At least I'm no longer scorched to embers when trying in vain to hail a taxi. It was cool, green and bright, like a whole new breezy city after the rains cleared.

But like I'm sure you're all aware, when the conversation turns to the weather... you've got nothing left to say.

Except that I dowloaded the entire Kenny Rogers Christmas Greetings album. With the original track listing from its 1981 release. How's that for festive?