Showing posts with label good times with friends/buenos momentos con amigos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label good times with friends/buenos momentos con amigos. Show all posts

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Celestial cabaret

We invited some friends round towatch the sun go down. A nice, relaxing end to the week.
They arrived just in time for the lightning.

We decided to sit out and enjoy the show with our summer cocktails and Keef's home-made tortilla chips and salsa. The wind and light rain on our skin were such a relief after three days and nights of sultry heat (34º the night before, and not a breath of air moving, though we had every window and door open - I went and slept on the terrace.)

The lightning got more spectacular by the minute. The thunder kicked in after an hour or so, and then the wind really got going! It does get windy up here, so I've slashed the canopy of the parasol to prevent it from taking off and injuring a pedestrian four floors below. Two days ago, I lashed the whole contraption very firmly to the safety rail, and tied the spokes to the support, to be absolutely sure.
All we needed was a hurricane to test it...


So - summer evening with son y lumiere - and then it really started slinging it down, so we retreated. Of course, I put every houseplant that wasn't tied down out there for a raindance!

And this morning, gorgeous sky, cool air, and - hmm...


So the macrame worked, then.

And the plants are happy.
This might even stir the banana palm into action - all that loving care, and even the odd tropical storm to make it feel at home!

Come on out, little BP. We know you're in there...

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Papel

Today I went in search of very special paper goods: a Frida Kahlo paper doll book, and some Charley Harper stationery.

First stop, El Papel Protagonista. The what? Well papel can mean role, as well as paper, and protagonista, well, you know...

And for those who really like to know these things, I give you the Diccionario Espasa concise inglés-español © 2000 Espasa Calpe:
papel sustantivo masculino
1 paper
papel de aluminio, aluminium foil
papel de fumar, cigarette paper
papel de lija, sandpaper
papel higiénico, toilet paper
Fin papel moneda, paper money, banknotes pl; papel pintado,wallpaper
2 (trozo, hoja) piece o sheet of paper
3 (documento) document
4 Cine Teat role, part *
5 (función, cometido) role
6 papeles, (documentación) documents, identification papers
♦ Locuciones: perder los papeles, to lose one's self-control, ser algo papel mojado, to be useless

OK?

So, a friend invited us to a dinner party last weekend, inspired by The Frida Kahlo Cookbook. No, I didn't know that she could cook either, and in fact, it turns out that she couldn't, until her husband's ex-wife taught her... Imagine the publisher's dilemma - The Lupe Who(?) Cookbook or... Anyway, mine hostess cooked a delicious meal, which included chicken in a piquant mole sauce (as in guaca-, not Badger, Ratty, Toad & -), chicken in chocolate sauce (uhuh), savoury rice, and a black bean and tofu salad suffused with coriander and swirled in a deep glass bowl.
Delicious. One chicken would have been enough, but everyone wanted some of both! So if you're a fan of Mexican food or Frida Kahlo, and you see Frida's Fiestas: Recipes and Reminiscences of Life with Frida Kahlo in the bookshop, go right ahead.


And - another guest brought the perfect gift for mine hostess. This,


from El Papel Protagonista, in Plaza Santa María Soledad Torres Acosta, 2 (yes, all one address) opposite Callao. It is also the perfect gift for another friend, so off I went. The tiniest shop, with the most delectable selection of gift wrap - both paper and fabric - and stationery that you could imagine. And the owner really looks after his customers. Love it! (And the Chinese shop next door is worth a visit too - wood carvings as well as kitsch, and friendly, helpful staff.)

If you like paperdolls, here be treasure.

Next stop, Panta Rhei, an excellent graphic arts bookshop with, unfortunately a half-broken website. On c/ Hernán Cortés, between c/ Hortaleza and c/ Fuencarral. This shop is fantastic, with a basement level too. Lots of good stuff, and, again, helpful staff.

I didn't get my Charley Harper, though they had a very good selection, because it came to a choice between these,



and this!
Woof!

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Madrigals

A small group of us got together yesterday - at last - to sing madrigals. We had a lovely time,but I don't know much about music history and theory, so today I thought I'd look up madrigals, and try once more to get my head round the terms polyphony and monophony. We're talking Wikipedia time again.

OK. Now I know what a madrigal is, but the other two terms just won't stick. I expect, though, that once I've sung more of each - with people who do know what they mean - and I've heard and felt how they fit together, then I'll get it. (In my wanderings, I also found homophony and heterophony. Who thinks of these words????????)

Anyway, there were five of us, three proper musicians who could sight read music, and knew their sharps from their naturals (and their troubadors from their jongleurs), and two of us who just like singing. We met in a living room, with a piano, had some tea (Yup, all English!) and had a go at three songs. The female voices were straightforward - one soprano and one alto (me). But one of the three guys, basically all tenors, though one was more baritone, had to sing bass. Whatever - it worked. Four part harmony. It's still very very rough, but we were so chuffed with ourselves.

I found several interpretations of all three on Youtube. They definitely won't help me remember the alto line, but I did enjoy hearing what different groups have done with these songs.




I'm not sure about the frocks, or Gandalf, but this is great fun to sing. It's a walking song for pilgrims climbing up to the Monastery of Montserrat near Barcelona. Most of the other groups sang it much more slowly, and once you've seen the location of the monastery, you'll know why....

Then there was Locus iste (This place was made by God), by the nineteenth century Austrian composer Anton Bruckner. The men practised in the kitchen, leaving us women with the piano in the living room. Next week, we might even try putting it all together.



And a Thomas Morley madrigal, Now is the month of maying, which sounds absolutely manic when taken at speed, but at a rhythm more suited to - maying - suggests all sorts of fun! Morley was a contemporary of Shakespeare, and they may have known each other.



Typical Tudor frock.......



Sunday, June 24, 2007

This weekend we...

.....went out for lunch on Friday at 2. John did Lamb. With beetroot. And gem squash. Never liked beetroot before. Never had gem squash before. Yum.
Cheryl made The Trifle! .......returned from lunch on Saturday at 12.30 a.m. It was a very fine lunch!
........oh ...... and we packed a bit.

......Actually, I packed a bit, in between cups of tea and forays into Blogger & Facebook, while Habibi got on with his novel - 48,500 words so far - woohoo!

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

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!!

Monday, December 11, 2006

A long amble down Memory Lane

The brain is rather fogged this evening. Habibi and I are staying in tonight, and tomorrow night (Oops! No. Actually, I have a school function to attend. Dang!), but the next night for sure, and the next....... Bliss. I am so tired I can barely see straight - certainly can't sit up straight! So this will probably be a rambly one.

Howsoever, it goes with the territory. Doing a show on top of a full-time job is a hell of a thing, and doing panto doubly so, but it's so much fun to do a project like this, with such a diverse and talented group of people that we might never otherwise meet. I've not been in a show for four years now, mainly because I kept nodding off at rehearsals for the last show I was in, but also, let's face it, when you're teaching and directing every day, the urge to do more of the same, three evenings a week, completely evaporates!

Habibi moved here in August 1994, and Habibibaba and I joined him a few weeks later, as the schools reopened after the summer break. By the time I arrived, Valerie-Ann had taken him under her wing, and persuaded him that joining Dubai Drama Group was the best way to settle in, and kick-start our social life. Before we knew it, the DDG had become our social life!

We did so many productions, that I can't place them in order, but there they all are, in the DDG archive. Yay! This is our archive. (Lovefest warning. We thesps, you know...)

First off was the 1994 panto, Humpty Dumpty, written by John Morley, and directed by the indefatiguable Philippe Duquenoy. They auditioned about a week after I got here, and I got to play a Welsh Druid called Mrs Mistletoe, engaged in a battle to outwit Jack Frost in the Land of Ice and Snow. I forget the name of the actor who played Jack Frost, but he was thin as a rail, camp as Christmas (offstage!), flexible and agile: as Jack Frost, eerie and comically demonic, he had the kids in the audience alternately on the edge of their seats, and pushing right back into them! He left here years ago, but Philipppe's still here of course, as the man behind Streetwise Fringe.

At that time, Habibibaba was coming up for six years old. Rehearsals were three evenings a week, but Friday was set-building day, on the old (gone now) British Council stage, and in the yard at the back where we had a costume store, a props store, a scenery store, and all the equipment from screwdrivers to a circular saw, that you need to make and paint a set and props. We'd start at 9 or 10, and round off with pizza delivered from Round Table at 1 o'clock. Habibibaba had a backpack which would be filled with Lego, The Beano, The Animals of Farthing Wood, and lots of paper and felt tips, but I don't think he shared our enthusiasm for those Friday sessions..... There was shade outside, and A.C and a kettle inside, but once the heat and humidity kicked in in March or April, it would be a great relief to haul off to the Lodge afterwards so Habibibaba could watch Phil Duquenoy's magic show (Wibbly! Wobbly!) and bounce with the other children, while we did quality control on the chilled, golden, dewy glassed apple beverages. Oh yeah....

In Spring 1995, Mo Bell directed Martin Green's Coarse Acting - The Sequel, and we subsequently did bits of it for the first Great British Day. I played Queen Anne and a soldier in Henry XII, Part VII (or similar!). Ahh, the pleasure of wearing a maroon velvet gown in late April in Dubai! The highlight of the GBD show, for me at least, was when we corpses 'corpsed', i.e. got the giggles. I don't know how it started, but one moment we were dying horribly, to lie strewn across the 7 metre square battlefield, and the next, someone started giggling; and King H XII had to deliver his fabulous victory speech with eight figures in hand-knitted grey string chainmail twitching and snorting at his feet. Well, it was a Coarse Acting Show...... maybe no-one in the audience realised......

In Autumn 1995, Jane Purchase directed Steel Magnolias by Robert Harling. Now, I had seen the movie version, starring Julia Roberts, Olympia Dukakis, Shirley MacLaine, Darryl Hannah and Tom Skerret; and however good the individual performances were, I thought the film itself stank. Mawkish, self-indulgent tripe. Loathed it. So I wasn't touching this show with a barge-pole, no matter how lovely Jane (and Valerie-Ann!) said it was.

Fortunately for me, an actress had to withdraw, so I came in to replace her as 'Ouisa (Shirley MacLaine in the movie). Great part and, it turned out, damn good play; set entirely in the beauty parlour, where all the emotional upheaval is tempered by the wicked, bring-it-on wit of the protagonistas: Hollywood of course, gave us breadth over depth and - well - that's Hollywood!

It was very interesting to join a show two weeks before opening night. This was a very talented and committed cast, with fab Mo Bell as Clairee, Jane playing Shelby, the central character, as well as directing (not her original intention, but that's another story) and the remarkable Hillary Harvey, as her mother, washing her hair in cold water every night as we didn't have hot running water on stage. It's the only time I ever saw Jane in a role, and I wish she'd done more, because she was very very good in a role that takes sensitivity and stamina. When I joined, the rest of the cast was word perfect, and knew that play inside out, so while I was at a disadvantage in having to get into character and get the lines down in a fortnight, I had the benefit of all of their knowledge of my character and my cues. I'm so glad I did that show, even if it was the beginning of a long career playing women at least twenty five years older than myself!

Next up, Cherif Wehbe directed the 1995 pantomime, Beauty & the Beast, and I got to be one of the ugly sisters, opposite witty Ann Scullion. Pam Porodo was Beauty and Philippe was hysterical as the Dame. (There'll be Cha-os!) Ann & I had white dresses, and sat on yellow armchairs against a yellow backdrop: on the video, all you can make out is two heads floating in mid air. We also got to be really horrible, and to sing Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend. Heady stuff. After being a sensible, civilised citizen for most of the year, there is nothing so satisfying as chucking out all the inhibitions and taboos of polite society to play a pantomime villain!

In Spring 1996, Mo Bell was back, directing Agatha Christie's Black Coffee, a whodunnit, in which Habibi dunnit! Ha!

And next we had....OMG... the Summer 1996 production of Michael Frayn's superb farce, Noises Off. Philippe directed and played in it, and I played the too-nice-by-half Belinda. It's a terrific play, and requires a revolving set, and actors of olympian stamina. OMG. Act II is set backstage during a performance of a touring play, with characters chasing and attacking each other with , variously, an axe, a whisky bottle, a fire extinguisher, two bouquets, a cactus, plates of sardines, and knotted bedsheets - and all in silence. Imagine circuit training for two hours, three nights a week, in a sauna, and you have some idea of what it meant to rehearse Act II at the British Council in MAY 1996. But it was fabulous! I know: I've got it on tape! Hillary again, and Julianne Montgomery as Poppy, Dinuk Wijeratne (then a Dubai College student, now Conductor-in-Residence with Symphony Nova Scotia) as the hapless and exhausted Tim, Dan Sanders as the director, and Philippe in his element with his trousers round his ankles, and clutching a plate of sardines. Happy days.

Habibi was up there next, in Len Harvey's Spring 1997 production of Friedrich Durrenmatt's The Visit. You don't get much Expressionism in Dubai, but there it was, in a very dark tale of manipulation, venality and revenge. Hillary was genteelly terrifying, which takes some doing, but the highlight of the show was, of course, Habibi's entrance on the cue of: 'Bobby! Where are you?' Sigh.... (There's a story there, too.....)

That autumn, Philippe broke away from comedy to direct Lucille Fletcher's suspense thriller Night Watch. I wasn't playing a baddie at all: she was misunderstood, tragically warped by a confusing childhood; what else could she do but kill her husband and his lover (OK, first she entrapped them into becoming lovers, but have some compassion, she was still mourning Daddy.....), and having done so, wasn't it natural that she should swing her fur coat around her shoulders and get herself on the next flight to Switzerland? After all, police officers are so prosaic about these things.
I had to learn to smoke for that one. Very strange activity. It will never catch on.

There was a squad of us jostling to direct in 1997-8. I had found and fallen in love with Tom Stoppard's Indian Ink, but Brian O'Nunan got the Summer '97 slot with Derek Benfield's farce, Caught on the Hop, in which I played Mrs Puffet, a variation on the middle-aged comedy housekeeper, (c.f. Hillary's Mrs Clackett in Noises Off!) all pinny, curlers and saggy stockings; and my turn came in the autumn of 1998.

Indian Ink is set in India and England, in the 1940s and the 1980s, and I needed British and Indian actors. At that time, the DDG wasn't as international as it is now, so I advertised through the Indian Association, and struck gold when Aalok Aima's sister told him aboout it, and he got in touch. This man had not been on stage for fifteen years (Busy with the day job - you know how it is..) but he was mesmerising as Nirad Das, painter, opposite Teletha Orme who was posted to Dubai just long enough to play Flora Crewe, whose trip to India 'for her health', causes ripples through the local communities and three generations. They were the core of a fine ensemble cast. That was the show where Habibi designed me the snot green bungalow with verandah I requested, and the crew, when I looked at it and realised that it had to be eighteen inches further left, all got together and pushed. Directors! Huh!

In Autumn 1999, Bill Bradley, vocational lighting designer, tried his hand at directing for the first time with a satire on group therapy, called I Do Not Like Thee Dr. Fell, by Bernard Farrell. This time my character was eighty-two and definitely loopy. The set comprised a room with a kitchen Up Right, a locked door Up Left, and several beanbags. Another big budget show. Briefly consider the dramatic possibilities of locking half a dozen anxious people in a room for twenty-four hours with a therapist and a job lot of bean bags. You're probably right!

The 1999 panto was more accurately a Christmas show with panto elements, and it required a double-decker set. Philippe rehearsed Follow the Star at the British Council, but we did it in the sports hall at Dubai Country Club. In a chorus of angels in shorts and teeshirts, I was the short square 40 year-old amongst all the dinky 16 year-olds from Dubai College who were doing this as part of the Duke of Edinburgh Award Scheme. (There were others in between: DDG panto is open to all ages!) I'm not good with heights, so the first time I got up on that fifteen foot high platform of springy boards laid over scaffolding - fifteen foot higher than the platform stage, that is - and no safety rail at the front because it would block the audience's view), I ended up paralysed and tearful on my hands and knees; but soon enough we were all rehearsing our steps just as we had on the stage at the British Council - and enjoying it too! The best bit was the dismount: we had a wide blue chute, like in a themepark, so that we angels could descend from heaven at supernatural speed. Yay!

In Spring 2000 I took a deep breath and directed my own play, a comedy called Get a Life! I was thrilled that the DDG would let me do this, and also apprehensive: what if no-one would come to something by an amateur writer? What if it didn't work? Again, I was fortunate in a strong ensemble cast (with the exception of one actor who thought he was really good, and turned out to be a total plank - no, actually, I have seen trees less wooden than the aforementioned 'actor' - but I cast him, and we were stuck with him! Ah well. It's only a bit of fun. sob!) In fact I was very fortunate in my cast, designer (Habibi again!) and construction team.
I posed our gaffer an interesting challenge with the apparently simple stage direction, He exits. Door closes. In this case, 'He' was a ghost, so the door had to close by itself, in full view of the audience. It worked fine in my head..... Thank you Neil Ross, evidently well-cast as the handyman, for all that fiddling about with hooks, pulleys and nylon cord - It worked! Spooky...

Professional theatre companies often commission plays, and the playwright will deliver a work-in-progress, attend rehearsals, and incorporate the ideas and developments that emerge into his revisions; so that the finished text evolves partly from company workshop, and partly from the solitary work of the writer. I knew that my play was entertaining, but poorly structured, and I was looking forward to workshopping it with the actors, rather than directing autocratically.

In practice, as I discovered, an amateur group's experience lies almost exclusively in rehearsing and performing scripted plays with the guidance of a director: they lack the experience, and therefore skills, confidence and response time of trained professionals for devising and revising; and they're also more anxious about hurting the feelings of the the director/writer; so playing with a script, as opposed to rehearsing it, can be unsettling. For me too, when something wasn't working, I'd be apologetic and anxious because I wrote the thing so it was my fault - which can slow things down! In practice then, when we found that something didn't quite work, we would play around with it, but in general, the play went on pretty well as first written. It wasn't perfect but it was fun to do and well-received, so we were happy. Learning experience.
Don't give up the day job....

The British Council, until this time, provided a base for British cultural initiatives in the community. In the days before 'Cool Britannia' the slogan was 'Fly the Flag' - and not just for British Airways. Dubai Drama Group, the Dubai Singers, and the Dubai Harmony Chorus all rented the hall and stage for rehearsals and shows, and the Round Table raised charity funds by providing refreshments in the garden. We had some fine after-show parties out there! However, as Dubai expanded and changed, so did policy and practice, and around about this time, the decision was taken to focus on developing the British Council as a teaching and examining centre. Accordingly, the various groups had to move out, and the stage was duly removed. The DDG packed everything into second-hand portacabins and moved operations to Dubai Country Club. Hardly ideal as location, or for audience capacity, but it was a base until funding could be raised for the long dreamed of Community Theatre.

I was more confident with my next show, the 2000-1 pantomime, Sleeping Beauty, which opened in January 01 in the Dubai Country Club Sports Hall, which seats plenty!. This time I asked Habibi to design me a set in Hanna-Barbera Gothic. And he did. In my version, the devoted (and cute) servant Pockets metamorphosed into Principal Boy, and married Beauty; while Montezuma (Monarch of the Mat, Khan of the Canvas, Sultan of Slam) despite his royal (!) credentials, and the plonking of a noisy reviving kiss upon Beauty's lips, dumped her for the mature attractions of the Dame, Signora Peperoni ('widowed... every time.....), played with great gusto by Scott Sutton. Scott has still not gone home to Mama, but he doesn't come out to play so often nowadays. Shame. P.S. And introducing Habibibaba as Elvis Q. Wildebeest, Monty's agent. He's a natural.

Shortly after this, I moved on from freelancing to full-time drama teaching, which involved getting up at 6 every morning, whether I liked it or not, and no catch-up snoozes mid-afternoon. Huh?!

In the autumn, Cynthia Weston (who was completely fabulous as Zanzibar, my panto fairy-in-chief) debuted as a DDG director with another Agatha Christie, Witness For the Prosecution, and cast me as a
crotchety,
elderly,
housekeeper.
What can I say? I'm waiting for Miriam Margolyes to retire, then I'm turning professional.
Oh good grief. When I went searching for her site, I was reminded that Miriam Margolyes played the Nurse in Baz Luhrman's Romeo and Juliet.
As it happens, I'm playing the Nurse in the next DDG production: Romeo and Juliet.
Maybe it's a sign.........

Last outing: playing Phil Duquenoy's wife again, this time in the Spring 2002 Plaza Suite by Neil Simon. Mimi wouldn't come out of the bathroom, and Walter Matthau and Karen Miller were temporarily unavailable, so Phil and I were down at Dubai Country Club, with Cynthia magnificent in A Hat, and Eric Dury - a tremendously versatile actor - also following up on Witness, in which he was the judge.

So here we are, coming full circle. My first panto role was a Welsh goodie, now I'm a Cornish baddie, and Habibi's a Welsh goodie...... even if Ben Gunn is a pirate, bless 'im!

I'm struck by the fact that when we came here, where everything has always seemed so transitory, we were surprised to meet the likes of Philippe and Liz Duquenoy, Sami & Brian Wilkie, Mo and Martin Bell, and Paul & Deborah Evans, all grown-ups who had been here over ten years, and active in the DDG throughout. We whippersnappers could not imagine how anyone could stay so long, and were well impressed that Sami, who is not only graceful but very funny, had been in every panto for the previous eight years! Sami continued to dance, and to choreograph pantos, and I actually wrote a role specifically for her in Sleeping Beauty, as the silently eloquent Corporal Hoo, sidekick to the ebullient Sergeant Boo. She took it - thank goodness - and was brilliant, just brilliant. I don't think I'll ever forget it!

So now 2006 is nearly over, and so is our time here - after 12 years (It seems like more!) - and in the current production, we're the - um - grown-ups....... having a hoot with all the newcomers to Dubai. We may be fit to drop at this point, but so are the new whippersnappers; and having a final fling with the DDG definitely counts as one of our happiest decisions.

And we will be here to see the group move into its new home, when Romeo and Juliet opens at Dubai Community Theatre and Arts Centre in March. It's been a long time coming, and has cost vastly more than anticipated. Without Majid Al Futtaim's donation of a shell at Mall of the Emirates, there might still be no end in sight. No doubt there will be issues to resolved between management and the community groups who worked so hard to fund-raise for the centre, but DUCTAC is open at last. It exists. This has to be good news for the old tenants of the British Council, and all the other cultural groups here.

It's taken me a couple of evenings to put this together. School function last night. Coursework to mark tonight. Absolutely nothing to do tomorrow night except make replacement felt eyepatches because the plastic ones slide all over my face, and then....

Friday:
Down to Dubai Women's College for 9 a.m.
Final Dress 11 a.m.
Matinee at 3
Evening Performance at 7
Home!

Saturday:
Lie-in
Matinee at 3
Evening Performance at 7
After show Party (Make mine a cocoa...... ok, maybe you can liven it up a bit....)
Home!

Tis Treasure Island, me hearties!
Wi' pirates, and face-paintin' and dressin' up (an' that's just the cast & crew, me dears).
Be ye coming to see it? Arrrr!

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Iftar

Last year, all the Muslim staff held an Iftar on our school field, and invited everyone and their partners and families. We all gathered just before sunset, to find big circular tables set with cloths and lanterns, plus dishes of dates and cups of water for the breaking of the fast. After the call to prayer and the short sunset prayers, we all helped ourselves to a very good buffet, and then the adults ate and chatted in the deepening dusk, while the children scooted about in all that open grassy space. Very relaxed and mellow. A lovely departure from the general busy-ness.

This year, the senior students held an Iftar on Monday, raising funds for their prom, with due proportion to charity. Staff were invited, and we were all proud of how well they organised this event: I'm not good at estimating crowds, but there were probably 300 people there, and it all went perfectly. (This time the round tables were on the basketball court!) A bonus was seeing former students back to visit. Good food and plenty of it, and every senior student on hand to set up, serve, help and clear up. Way to go.

And yesterday (Tuesday) the Muslim staff repeated last year's lovely evening. The evening was perfect, with a light breeze to lift the humidity. Habibi came, and staff brought visiting parents, brothers and sisters, and introduced them all round. I saw children I haven't seen for a year - babies now toddlers, toddlers now able to kick a ball without over-balancing, shy little ones now romping confidently with all comers. Former colleagues came to visit, and new staff saw new colleagues in civvies and without responsibilities. You can't put a price on the thoughtfulness and generosity that goes into something like this.

Oh - and before I forget- there was an interesting mix of music coming over the speakers: religious songs in Arabic and English, including some Islamic Hip-Hop from a Pakistani band (I think). I can't say that the Hip-Hop did much for me, but I like the progressions of Islamic music, and I also liked the little English song that started 'The sky is blue like blue bubblegum......' Doesn't that just sum up the feeling of a carefree summer morning?

(Another first last year was the 'Festive Tea' when Christian staff returned the compliment in December. I missed it =( because I had a rehearsal, but I'll be there this year!)


Thursday, October 05, 2006

A Doll's House

I've been doing up a dolls' house to take to Spain, for when our nieces and nephews come to visit.
I painted it, except for two rooms, put in some window boxes and bought some little room sets. This was months ago. Since then I've been busy with other things, and the dolls' house has sat neglected in a corner, with all the bits tucked away inside.

Yesterday I came home to surprise visitors, and this is what 9 year-old Sacha had done. Isn't it bonny? Habibi says she played with it for hours, rearranging things and doing all the voices of the motley collection of dolls. I'm thrilled that she enjoyed it so much. (Sometimes I get these ideas - it's good when they work....)





A Georgian house with the roof off. The blue is left-over emulsion from Habibibaba's bedroom, and reminds me of him (long-gone now - sniff!) and wisteria-covered mews cottages in Chelsea.





Roof garden





....and Interior, with Chimney Pots and Welsh Dresser.

I especially love her chimney pot four-poster, the Welsh dresser full of chessmen, and the teeny doll sitting among the climbers and rose trees in the roof garden. And now I know what happened to the 'Arabian rug' coasters Dad gave me!

(When I get round to it, I'm going to papier mache the matchbox into a bed. And do some covers. And rugs. And curtains. Oh yes, and repaint the bathroom suite. All good fun!)
The house is a flat-pack from The Early Learning Centre, and the bathroom and dining room suites are from Magrudy's.

P.S. It's 1.20 in the ratting a.m. I went to bed. I got up again. Maybe I'll play for a bit..... :D

Thursday, May 11, 2006

I've never met an Iranian I didn't like.

I mean it. Every Iranian I have ever met since I came here in 1993 has been cultured, generous and full of humour. They value their families and their faith, and they also enjoy music, art and long, long conversations. By the time I'd met a few I had to wonder how such people could come from the land of the ayatollahs? And how the ayatollahs have managed to establish and maintain their repressive and cheerless regime when Iranians seem so irrepressible and cheerful?

Those were my questions. Nowadays I know more now about modern Iranian history, the Pahlavis, etc. and also the limits of and on the international media. But I know almost nothing about how people live in Iran today, and what they think about themselves, their country, and the rest of the world. When my lovely neighbour and I get together for a chat, we talk about ourselves and our families. I don't turn up with a questionnaire on Iranian politics!

Today I wandered into Manal and Alaa's bit bucket, and saw the entry, Flame Wars: A Brief History of Blogging in Iran, in which Alaa reviews Nasrin Ahlavi's book about blogging in Iran, We Are Iran. I hadn't even thought about Iranian bloggers!

When I searched, I found the motherlode, Iranian Canadian Hossein Derakhshan's Blogs by Iranians site. So now I have no excuse for my ignorance. I'm going to need longer weekends.

One more thing. Alaa Abd El-Fatah is an Egyptian blogger currently in jail in Cairo, awaiting some kind of action after a protest in support of two judges who were themselves arrested for demanding an independent judiciary. Find out more on fellow Egyptian Sabbah's Blog.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Home again

And away we went. Two out became three, and we took a wrong turn somewhere, so we were on the road for three hours, but we also talked for three hours, so apart from being 30 minutes late and hoarse, that was just fine. No pics of the desert because we weren't stopping, but it showed the impact of three days of rain in February: every little scrap of scrub was green, and a few whiskers of new grass had poked up. Camels everywhere, but also bulldozers and trucks dotted across the dunes, and many many signs of new development. I rather assumed it was just Dubai and Sharjah, but it seems that they are building everywhere, beginning with infrastructure. If you've seen Syriana, think of George Clooney at a brand new crossroads in the middle of the desert, and add roundabouts, flyovers and curly intersections, all smart in yellow and white paint, and sand dunes in all directions, and that was our experience today. A few more signs would have been nice though!
I think that the mountains are volcanic - hard grey shale, no soil, no plant life - except for the odd tree that had rooted against all odds on a summit. This photo looks inland from the Oceanic Hotel in Khor Fakkan, over lushly maintained gardens. The greenery is a ribbon, and beyond it, desert, mountain and more desert.
I was impressed with the hotel bikeshed. Irrigation or rain?!

I had a beginner's anxieties about my part in the conference, but it was straightforward, as such things usually are, and a very satisfying experience. Lunch was good too!

Five back became two back, and another stimulating conversation as we bowled home by a different route, this time through the mountains, rather than round the southern tip. Coming back to Jebel Ali along Emirates Road, there were hundreds, and hundreds and hundreds of trucks and water tankers toiling along in single file on the roads leading on and off the massive Dubailand roundabout, like cartoon ants marching off with the picnic. It's hard to contemplate so much construction. You've seen computer simulations of construction projects, and that terrific hp logistics ad with people somersaulting into seats on platforms that flew in a nanosecond before: a timelapse photographic project of this place would match it. Back to town, but only after a very good day.

Heading out for the day

It's a beautiful morning and I'm going to Khor Fakkan for an academic get-together today, which means out of the city on good roads through desert and mountains. Beautiful. This isn't the type of desert you see in Lawrence of Arabia: the sand is a different colour, and this is coastal, not the deep desert of high dunes; but it rolls to the horizon, and the trees look African. You don't get palm trees in the desert, but you do see a lot of trees with thin drooping branches like a willow, but all with neat horizontal fringes like a Beatles haircut, at the limit that the camels can reach to nibble. Camels - beige, golden brown, dark like burnt toast. Goats near the villages - in all colours. And the road goes through the coastal mountains, parallel to the wadi routes, past the carefully irrigated farms, orange orchards and palm nurseries. Oh it's good to get out of the city!

I'm also happy because of who I'm riding with, two of us out and five of us back. We're always so busy at school that we simply do not have time or energy for conversation, so the prospect of an hour or so in a car is very appealing. Lovely!

Sunday, April 16, 2006

AcCENtuate the POsitive! (We'll get the rest on CNN.)

When did you last see anything about the middle east that wasn't about violence, fear and mistrust? Of course that's a big part of the picture these days, but I will keep saying that I have neighbours, colleagues and students from all over this region, and well beyond, and they're just ordinary people with ordinary families, and ordinary vices and virtues. Sometimes it's worth reminding ourselves of the obvious.

Muslim colleagues from the UAE, Egypt, Algeria and elsewhere invited all us non-muslims to Iftar (the breaking of the fast at sunset during Ramadan); our Iranian neighbours invited us to celebrate Norouz (New Year) with them; arab colleagues bring in wonderful food and baskets of chocolates to celebrate family weddings, first grandchildren and so on; and the middle-eastern habit of embracing and speaking to everyone individually as you arrive or depart is extremely contagious (even if it does make everything happen ten minutes late) and it makes the beginning and end of term in our staffroom very heartwarming.

Open-minded people try to believe that extremism is a minority feature of every society, but with the middle east and Islam, non-muslim westerners have to take it on faith, because there is very little in the western media to support the fact that there is so much to celebrate about arab culture. Culture isn't news.

For a while there I was comforted that CNN broadcast News Asia, Inside the Middle East, and other programmes on this part of the world in the USA, because I thought that the rest of the planet, and particularly those traumatised, bunker-minded, post-911 citizens of the US who believe that Poppa Dubbya is their only defence against the howling hordes (and that's just the picture on Europe) were being given an opportunity to see the normality of ordinary people, good people, creative people, just living their lives; to hear ordinary, reasoned discussion of business, the arts, sport, politics from this regional and cultural perspective; to see features on Islam, national profiles, documentaries on the good and the bad over here; to see all these small pieces that make the unknown and foreign less threatening, that go some way to balance the hideous headline stories, and to experience some small measure of hope and goodwill to help fix the terrible situation we all find ouselves in. Silly me. They don't show that stuff in the states. What a waste of media power and resources. No wonder you're scared to death. It breaks my heart.

Even so, there is a whole dimension, a whole way of life, that is no more 'evil' or strange or incomprehensible than yours or mine, and millions of people that it would gladden your heart to know if you just had time, opportunity - and a smattering of arabic to give them a first giggle at your dreadful pronunciation!

We just have to survive this bit.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

International and Personal

OK, this started out as a postscript to an earlier blog, but got too long, so I moved it here, but now – let’s face it, the woman wants to talk! So I’ll split it up and you just stop when you’ve had enough! I go back to work tomorrow so that will shut me up for a while.

We are shaped by experience as well as our own culture and family. As an educated but rather unsophisticated woman of limited political understanding (Just call me a bleeding heart liberal.) who hails from an idiosyncratic island and former colonial power off the coast of mainland Europe (The Continent - I love the absolute certainty of that phrase. Hello World, here we are!) living in the middle east, and particularly in Dubai, through a dozen years of globalisation, political, economic and military brinkmanship, alarming climatic change, increasing muslim and christian fundamentalism, and an increasingly deadly intercontinental, inter-religious, inter-cultural struggle for power, prestige, moral high ground - and survival - I have to say that my perspective has been shaped by all this - even if I don't understand it, and have no clue how we are to get out of this mess.

But I have also been shaped by exposure to the day-to-day life of people of umpteen different cultures. With what may be stereotypical English reserve, or a bad case of Roman Catholic female I'm-not-bothering-you-am-I? syndrome, I was at first overwhelmed and dogged by a sense of unworthiness at the warmth and hospitality of Arab and Iranian friends and neighbours who have almost dragged me over the threshold when I've popped round to say hi, who have brought out every sweet (My teeth! I have to develop some won't power or else stay home!), offered every kind of juice, tea and coffee, enquired after the health and well-being of every member of my family, and treated me as the most welcome and honoured friend. Wow. God bless them every one.

On the other hand, early tail-wagging eagerness to mix with neighbours and see my small son make friends first, and leave cultural analysis til he was older, was somewhat discouraged by the recognition that for many asians here I am a Brit - a non-acronym for spoilt-and-supercilious -(i.e. female)-educated-western-economic-interloper-from-former-colonial-power. It is not overt or particularly intentional, but given the racial inequities of the job market here, and the fact that for many people here the legacy of colonialism remains real, it's understandable. Plus there's the Jumeirah Jane syndrome which turns Mrs Ordinary from a small house in England into 'Madame', the bored lady of leisure, living in Jumeirah on her husband's employment package.

(Before Dubai embarked on its bigger-shinier-wackier-most exclusive development programme - who is it that they want to exclude, do you suppose? - Jumeirah was Dubai's elegant upmarket suburb - actually, its only suburb!)

Of course the JJ is a cliché and, as such, often masks culture shock, homesickness, and a feeling of purposelessness because school hours and holidays, combined with Jumeirah Jim's long hours and frequent business trips, mean that educated, sociable Mrs Ordinary can't work outside the home if she wants to look after her children, so what does she do when they're at school and JJ's at work, and how does she make friends? But she's white, has the 4x4 and the big villa, drinks latté and complains about the maid to her friends who are all manicured, pedicured and coiffed to the beautifully bronzed hilt, and I'm so jealous I could spit!!!!!!!!!!!!! Naturally, to all the under-paid, frequently over-qualified, Filipinas, Pakistanis, Sri Lankans and Indians providing the pedicures and serving the lattés on ten-hour shifts, being a Brit looks pretty good.

Anyway, the times they are a-changing, the buildings are going up almost as fast as the rents, and the salary+accommodation+school fees+annual flights home package will soon be history, so I guess that equality is coming because Mr and Mrs JJ can't afford to stay here much longer, so unless there's someone else out there looking for maids, pedicures and caffeine, there are going to be several agencies, salons and Starbucks franchises on the market, and several million m.sq. of valuable commercial and residential real estate available from Golden Goose Enterprises.

Enough already. As I say, JJ is a cliché, a stereotype; and stereotypes are so seductive in the short term, so dangerous in the long term.