Sunday, December 31, 2006

Old Year, New Year, Jordan

On this last day of December 2006, I'm looking back to this time last year, when we were in Jordan. Habibi blogged this in words and a few pics, but here are some more pics, and my impressions, with links to his words!

On Day One, December 29th, we flew into Amman, and transferred to Madaba, where we spent several hours, first lost and then wandering, until it was time to meet Habibibaba off his flight from London.















It was cold! I had knitted myself a hat and gloves in anticipation of the trip and the promise of cold weather, but after all these years in Dubai, we had completely forgotten what cold actually felt like. We bought shwarmas as much for the chance to stand next to the grill as for the (wonderfully hot and delicious) food itself.




















At Saint George's Greek Orthodox Church we saw our first mosaic floors. Of course, floors are meant to be walked on, so the fascinating mosaic map of the Holy Land is faded and uneven, but it is still breath-taking. On the drive from Amman to Madaba I had been struck by the extraordinary orange soil: in the days to come we would travel across limestone, granite, and sandstone that ranged from golden brown, through Petra's rosy pink, to plum, to sage green. All of these colours appear again and again in Jordan's mosaics.
















The ornate Byzantine chandelier and painted dark wood panelling of an orthodox church still in service after centuries. A Christian shopkeeper we met later was happy to talk to us about the complex history of the people of Jordan. Saint George's was his parish church, and he had been there for midnight mass with his family on Christmas Eve.
















Such craftsmanship.
















Never having paid much attention to mosaics before, I was astonished by the artistry and technical skill that went into these masterpieces, faded as many are by time and use. This villa floor has survived sun, wind, rain and frost since the villa itself fell to ruin.














A fragment from a more protected spot.















En route for Jerash, we stopped at a roadside stall and bought ropes of dried figs and apricots. At a small supermarket we bought locally grown scarlet and yellow apples. I generally find Gala and other red apples insipid, but these were beautifully crisp, sweet and juicy. I looked for Jordanian fruit when we got home again, and found some Iranian apples that looked the part, but I suppose that any fruit we get in our supermarkets has been a long time in storage and transit by the time we get it.















Taking the ringroad up the west side of Amman on Day Two, heading north for the Roman city of Jerash, through a landscape that becomes more mountainous, the rich Madaba soil giving way to thinly covered limestone planted with pine trees and dwarf tulips to control erosion, and generations of terraces dotted with hardy and beautiful olive trees.














The Olive Branch in Ajloun was exciting to get to. I was too busy holding onto an armrest and giggling to take any photos on the zig zag ride up, up, up, but here's a flat bit at the top! The building won't win any architectural awards, but it's clean and comfortable, and the staff are pleasant and efficient. Also, because it is so high up, there is no traffic noise at all, despite all the little villages that are invisible by day, but appear across the valley and encircling mountains in little clusters of light as night falls. It was very seductive to wake before dawn to cool, soft air and sit whispering on the balcony, tucked up in blankets, as the sun rose, colour returned to the landscape, and the little villas and villages faded from sight again.















Jerash is alive and kicking. We had heard about the Jerash Festival, which takes place every July, so we weren't sure what to expect. Nor were we entirely sure how long we'd spend there, because, well, it's a Roman ruin, isn't it? We stayed for hours, only withdrawing to the big restaurant at around four o'clock because we were getting cold!















The restoration work is extensive and ongoing, but the incongruous mix of heavy machinery and ancient stonework only features near the entrance. Start walking along the paved roads, up dressed stone steps, and under archways, to the hippodrome, the churches and temples, the north and south theatres, and you find time has flown, your feet are aching, your stomach's complaining, but there's still so much to see!














Old skills renewed.

















Into the hippodrome - for the spectators, not the horses.....















The North Theatre, from the stage. The acoustics are very, very good. I'd never been in a Roman amphitheatre before, so I was keen to photograph it in detail for my students, but also to test the acoustics for myself. If you stand centre stage and simply speak clearly, with the sort of projection that a conventional proscenium arch stage demands, you can be heard clearly from the farthest seat at the back. Thank you Habibibaba, for doing the legwork all the way to the top to keep mama happy!
















And again, from the cheap seats! There are some Arab bagpipe players down there, from the police band, I think. Ode to Joy should not be played on the bagpipes. No really. Take my word for it.

However, when you're standing high up on a sunlit hill, with crickets and butterflies doing their ephemeral thing among the layers of history and echoes of generations, it's the perfect melody to have in your head.
















Another floor open to the elements, this time in the ruined church of Saints Cosmas and Damian.
On Day Three, we turned south again, back towards Amman. Back in April, when I started blogging, I uploaded umpteen photographs from the Folklore Museum. They are in a series of entries for April 12th and 13th.

Right, it's 11.47 p.m. and I return to the present for a wander up Jebel Ali with my beloved, to see the New Year in from the top. Happy New Year everyone!

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Photo-Editing for Absolute Beginners

I've been experimenting. Last month, when I wanted to make greetings cards based on some flower photos, Habibi directed me towards Image Adjust & Transform in Corel Photopaint, with exciting results. I wanted to go further, but Corel Photopaint is a professional tool, and I find it intimidating, so I thought I'd wait til the holidays, when things were quieter.

This week I happened upon Really, Really, Really Easy Step-by-Step Digital Photography for Absolute Beginners. If you've been here before, you'll appreciate the appeal of this title. In fact, though the book is thorough, and proceeds at a a very cautious pace, it's also out of date in places, because it's linked to Picasa, which has updated since publication. The first pages are confusing, but then it's ok. (I've only gone through Part 1, on photo management. Part 2 is on getting creative with your camera. I'm up for that!)

Picasa is free downloadable photo management software from Google. I'm not finding it as straightforward as I expected, but I think it's a case of cutting loose from the manual, and experimenting. It's certainly pretty!

The real appeal for me is the filing system, a scrolling gallery of all my photos - hundreds of them - displayed in albums (files) - in reverse date order from when they were taken - not when they were uploaded to the PC. Very useful.

Also valuable is the editing suite; my trusty little 3.2 mega-pixel Canon A510 is my favourite toy in the whole world BUT it is sooooo sloooow to flash, and soooooo slooooow to recover (plus the flash leeches colour from the subject at close range) that I often switch the flash off and hope for the best. Result: lots of dark shots.

Picasa has a comforting collection of idiotnovice-proof editing tools to brighten, enhance colour - and also soften, tint, add sepia; a red-eye corrector; plus the familiar rotation tool; a cropping tool that I find more logical than the Corel version; and a ducky little device for realigning your horizon with the original - good for party snaps! And more besides. I've followed the advice and set up an Edits file, leaving the original as is.

So, here's the outcome of a couple of days of manual-reading frustration, and a couple of hours' gleeful experimentation.








The original. In Scotland, Tarzan wears clothes, even in August.









Colour saturation and soft focus. I never thought I'd use this, because soft focus wedding photos and misty baby shots set my teeth on edge - Isn't reality gorgeous enough? I want to see detail!

But I like this! Dreams of Australia....









Maximum Shadows. (Picasa)








Negative (Corel Invert) of the Picasa Shadows edit.







Bi-colour threshold (No idea, sorry.) Also Corel.









My favourite edit: Corel Invert of the original image. Woo!

Christmas Giles

I almost forgot!

Giles on gifts.



















Giles on feasting.


















Giles on the aftermath.....

Christmas Day with friends




















On Christmas morning, we opened our presents (as you do)!




















On Christmas afternoon, we joined friends.















After a fine dinner, there was ....The Pudding!




















It's only one day, but it's a good one.
We won't forget our last Christmas in Dubai.
Especially as we've made dates for Holy Week 2010 in Spain, and Christmas 2011 in Greece. (That's on top of Holy Week 2008 in Spain..... I need a bigger diary!)

P.S. After two Christmases in London, Habibibaba might be enticed to Spain for Christmas 2007. xoxoxox!!

Christmas Eve at 'The Club'

We moved into Jebel Ali Gardens in late November 2001. The Christmas tree and the Advent calendar were up before the curtains, Father Christmas was duly notified of who slept where, and we were all set for Christmas before we'd finished unpacking. Priorities.

However, our infant son was by this time fourteen, and slightly past the age for rushing off to bed at half past seven because Santa was coming. What on earth were his aged parents to do til lights out? They left him playing computer games, and went to The Club in Jebel Ali Village, lured by tales of carol singing, mince pies and mulled wine. It was good fun, and we've done it every year since. It's traditional. innit?

So this is where we went on our last Christmas Eve in Dubai (tee hee!)




















Now Maggie and Jimmy Lee lived and raised a family in Jebel Ali Village; and on Christmas Eve 1980 Maggie played piano, Jimmy sang, and that was the start of 'Christmas Eve at the Club', as we know it now. They had already retired to Blighty when we moved in here, but they came back every year to play and sing, and they're still doing it, twenty six years on!














Last year, two young lads got up and sang every single verse of 'We Three Kings', and this little fellow sang 'We wish you a Merry Christmas, We wish you a Merry Christmas'.
A year on, they're back, about six inches taller, to reprise their hits of 2005.
I love the placing of the banner: all your favourite stars, including Maggie, Jimmy and the little guy. Aaah.















The tail end of the spontaneous Cossack dancing.




















Male voice choir.
The Junior Ladies' Chorus await their turn.
It's all terribly serious, with everyone peering at song sheets and trying to reach the mic.















Everyone sings! This was 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' (trad.) with newly invented actions (lots of bling for the five gold rings, and the six geese have developed hernias).

At around 9.30, someone requested Danny Boy: our cue to leave, and walk up through the village, over scrubby Jebel Ali, and home. Not picturesque, but cool and peaceful under the stars, like Christmas Eve should be. Debbie will be in New Zealand next year, we'll be in Spain, and rumours persist that Jebel Ali Village is to go the way of Jumeirah Beach Village, but until then I have no doubt that there'll still be mince pies and mulled wine at 'The Club' every Christmas Eve.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

The Twelve Days of Christmas in the Gulf








On the first day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
A hoopoe beneath a palm tree.














On the second day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Two desert dogs,
And a hoopoe beneath a palm tree.











On the third day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Three gheckos,
Two desert dogs,
And a hoopoe beneath a palm tree.






















On the fourth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Four bulbuls,
Three gheckos,
Two desert dogs,
And a hoopoe beneath a palm tree.






















On the fifth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Five coffee pots,
Four bulbuls,
Three gheckos,
Two desert dogs,
And a hoopoe beneath a palm tree.




















On the sixth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Six sheikhs a-sheikhing,
Five coffee pots,
Four bulbuls,
Three gheckos,
Two desert dogs,
And a hoopoe beneath a palm tree.






















On the seventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Seven waiters waiting,
Six sheikhs a-sheikhing,
Five coffee pots,
Four bulbuls,
Three gheckos,
Two desert dogs,
And a hoopoe beneath a palm tree.






















On the eighth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eight housemaids mopping,
Seven waiters waiting,
Six sheikhs a-sheikhing,
Five coffee pots,
Four bulbuls,
Three gheckos,
Two desert dogs,
And a hoopoe beneath a palm tree.
















On the ninth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Nine ladies nighting,
Eight housemaids mopping,
Seven waiters waiting,
Six sheikhs a-sheikhing,
Five coffee pots,
Four bulbuls,
Three gheckos,
Two desert dogs,
And a hoopoe beneath a palm tree.


















On the tenth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Ten brunchers brunching,
Nine ladies nighting,
Eight housemaids mopping,
Seven waiters waiting,
Six sheikhs a-sheikhing,
Five coffee pots,
Four bulbuls,
Three gheckos,
Two desert dogs,
And a hoopoe beneath a palm tree.



















On the eleventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eleven shoppers shopping,
Ten brunchers brunching,
Nine ladies nighting,
Eight housemaids mopping,
Seven waiters waiting,
Six sheikhs a-sheikhing,
Five coffee pots,
Four bulbuls,
Three gheckos,
Two desert dogs,
And a hoopoe beneath a palm tree.













On the twelfth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Twelve Hummers Humming,
Eleven shoppers shopping,
Ten brunchers brunching,
Nine ladies nighting,
Eight housemaids mopping,
Seven waiters waiting,
Six sheikhs a-sheikhing,
Five coffee pots,
Four bulbuls,
Three gheckos,
Two desert dogs,
And a hoopoe beneath a palm tree.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Penguin

What is it about penguins?

When I was a child, McVities urged us to P-pick up a Penguin! A P-p-p-penguin!








Later I remember my mother coming home with Sirdar yarns to make us cardigans, jumpers, hats and gloves in beautiful colours, but for speciality yarns, it was Pingouin. (Both syllables rhyme with the French pain, producing a sort of placid quacking sound.) Mind you, she absolutely detests knitting with the hair of the Mo, so our jumpers were usually Sirdar double knit, and the more exotic yarns were reserved as texture detail in her luscious wool tapestries.

When Habibibaba was a toddler, the picture that made our one chick feel cosy was of an Emperor Penguin family. Hardly surprising, really. And in his duffel coat, he had the proportions of a penguin chick!



















Then along came Pingu. Given half a chance, we would all watch Pingu!









When we moved to Dubai, my mother, realising we might need an antidote to all this sand, started sending us cards from Paper House's Eric the Penguin range. Here's one that she missed, just for Habibi!




















Then last year, out came:
which I still haven't seen, but I'll get to it sometime soon (anything involving Morgan Freeman - ooh!).

















And today, Habibi and I took my birthday cinema ticket vouchers and went to the IMAX to see



Aaah!















Great fun. If you haven't seen it yet, I shan't spoil it for you. My thoughts are on the comments page!

After we came out, Habibi disappeared into a shop to do something secret (No, not shoplifting! Huh!) and I found a seat in Costa's from which I could watch the world go by, and ordered an espresso. I am so glad I did.

A little Chinese boy, aged about four, must have just been to see Happy Feet, because he started dancing, quite oblivious to the rest of us. He had all the movements too: arms out to the side like penguin wings, skittering feet, turns, travelling sideways and back again, all with a private smile of pleasure on his face; he was a natural, and it was just gorgeous to watch him so wrapped up in the moves, and the music in his head. After a while, his father appeared with a half-filled shopping trolley and indicated that his son should climb up into the seat. Up he got quite happily and away they went. They were out of sight by the time Habibi got back. Shame!