Sandstorm Troopers

It's official, the Geekdom has expanded its empire in the Desert city. As the 3rd year of Middle East Film and Comic Con concludes this month at the Dubai World Trade Center, kids of all ages, shapes and characters came to celebrate what is turning out to be the biggest pop culture festival this side of the world.

I love seeing the Arab geek crowd, they're awesome.  

Like most things in Dubai, it didn't take the organizers much time to step up their game, the Comic Con grew from this mid-size-day-in-the-marina event mostly showcasing homegrown stuff, to this proper huge convention with international players bringing in the big guns, and by big guns, I mean the full set of official Iron Man costumes in a gallery that greeted us at the entrance.

With the international panel led by Hollywood boy wonder Seth Green, who I know from Buffy, the Vampire slayer days, (yes I’m that 90s-kid), it will be no surprise if next year’s con will bring in more A-list geekiness.

Stark enterprises has opened a branch in Dubai. 

Sandstorm troopers! 

Of course, no Comic Con in any galaxy will ever be complete without a trace of the legendary Star wars.  Stormtroopers were everywhere this year, turning into sandstorm-troopers, and the rest of crew like good ol’ Darth Vader and Yoda found themselves right at home in traditional ghutras and kanduras, that you would think maybe George Lucas spent some lost years of his adolescent in the Middle East.

Arabization of Star Wars in full swing. 

I can go on and on about all the cool things about the comic con, but what I find interesting in the Middle East Film and Comic Con is how they seem to have adopted a western concept and neatly folded it into their own unique identity so seamlessly (and so quickly) that even though it might not be in the same league (yet) as the original San Diego convention, it will always be a unique affair, and somehow we are all lucky to have it right next door.

Gundam as Dubai Police by Brownmonkey's Dogboy.
Coolest toy at MEFCC 2014.  

Master Yoda by Filipino artist Lewis De Mesa.
He was actually one of the first few who came up with
Arab Star Wars prints back in MEFCC 2011.

So as I contemplate on wearing a costume for next year, (the way I always do every year but never really get on it), I also realize the greatest part of this whole thing for me, and perhaps all the other kids-at-heart  out there, is the opportunity to forget about being an adult for a while, put on my favorite sneakers and play outside with the strange kids from the neighborhood.

Hello old friend. Till we meet again!

Till next year MEFCC! May the force be with you.

Staring at Walls

Before I came to Dubai  I had this bad idea of a fake city devoid of any art, culture, history or inspiration. All I ever knew about it were all the superficial superlative stuff - the tallest buildings, the gold, the Louis Vuittons, the Ferraris and Lamborghini’s of the affluent Arab masters. 

Perhaps in some ways, on the surface it is true, but I would now rather reserve judgment. The truth is Dubai, of all places, has gotten me face to face with Art, as much as it did with consumerism.

Unimpressed with the grand shopping festival culture, I was drawn to the inner dungeons of the city, and pretty soon found my way to the backstreets of Al Quoz, in spacious empty warehouses converted into comfy loft galleries.

"Saying goodbye means forgetting." This sculpture reminded me of Peter Pan.

A collection of war portraits painted based on real photos.

Growing up in the Philippines, where much of high-brow art was reserved for the buyers or the academe, my initial idea of art galleries was synonymous to my idea of museums, which is pretty much lethargic, confined to memories of boring school field trips.

By this I mean, staring at hanging paintings on the wall didn’t really appeal to me as a cool activity until Dubai, where the galleries have more to offer than any mall, and where staring at art seemed more interesting than  staring at people getting drunk in a bar.

To its credit, in a few short years, Dubai has managed to attract a bustling creative scene, that after three years of hosting the annual Art fair every March, it apparently has become one of the major avenues for showcasing the region's best on a global platform.

Filipino visual artist Mark Ganzon was commissioned to paint the Art Bus
that can take you to all the Galleries around the UAE for 50dhs 

Women behind bars, ignoring the open door.  

The Conductor.

Art as therapy.

My favorite author Kurt Vonnegut once said that “the arts is very human way of making life more bearable.” He couldn’t have said it better.  Perhaps I will never learn enough of art history, or be anywhere close to drawing a straight line, but what I’ve seen is enough to compel me to write and drag people out of their comfort zones into a strange world of walls that talk.

More my style. A collection of woodworks by
Spanish grafitti artist Ruben Sanchez.

Threads and tongues.

Where are the superheroes? A bold statement by FN Designs.

Don’t take my word for it! Check out the interesting exhibits at the Sikka Art Fair at the old Dubai Museum,  Al Serkal Avenue in Al Quoz, the Gate Village in DIFC and Madinat Jumeirah. Art Dubai opens every second week of March. For a full calendar of activities log on to : https://www.facebook.com/DubaiCultureArtsAuthority

Being an Illustrado : A note on National Heroes Day

“There goes my hero, he’s ordinary ” goes a line from one my favorite songs by the Foo Fighters. 

I have always identified with this song for various reasons, but mostly because it reminds me of my everyday heroes - my late Lolo Marsing (who I fondly call Tatay) who has been an OFW all his life, he worked in Saudi to support his family, my Dad, who continues to take pictures of strangers for a living, my Mom  who has worked a 9-5 job since she was 20 while taking care of her family and doing all the house chores, my Lola (who I fondly call Mama) who remained strong and loyal throughout the years, married to an OFW and single-handedly raised her kids and grandkids - each of them and every hardworking Pinoy I’ve met in Dubai struggling to send money back home - they are my heroes. They inspire me to show up at work every day, to work hard and be nice.

Tatay worked as a Foreman for construction company in Saudi Arabia in 1980s. He had worked as an OFW for over 2 decades. 

Tatay on the field with another filipino co-worker. He was always generous and friendly towards them. Their wives would come to visit my grandma often and share stories. 

We celebrated National Heroes day recently amidst the brouhaha of the 10 Billion Peso Scam by Janet Napoles and our corrupt lawmakers. I hated them. I hated how the upper class, the elite, the ones in power continues to manipulate us like the Indios of Rizal’s time. But then I can’t help but think that maybe it is also our fault, the Middle Class, the Illustrado, the educated pinoy, the ones who know but can’t be bothered because we’re too busy taking selfies, or looking out for shopping bargains, working in our offices, watching out for low fares to Boracay, waiting for the next Superman installment, just maybe, we the so-called Illustrados, are in effect, to blame.

They say that Hate is not the opposite of Love, Apathy is. I am waking up to this realization that by being silent, by being apathetic, I have contributed to the damage. It is time we Illustrados rise up and fight for our rights and the rights of those who do not have a voice.

Tatay at their accomodation. Living in Dubai now, I can relate. 

Another day at work in the hot field. 

The Rise of the Middle Class

The recent Million People March that snowballed from social media to a full blown protest/picnic at the Rizal Park is a good indication of a middle class that is finally finding its voice. Thanks to Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Youtube and most of all, the blogsites that became a venue for Anonymous writers to freely reveal what they know. Detailed accounts of the nasty modus operandi of this long-standing organized mafia linked to some powerful people in government surfaced to the public via comments on a blog, free to share with no other agenda but to bring out the truth. 

Support came in from working class Filipinos from all sectors and from all over the world who felt the injustice of toiling everyday only to find out that their hard-earned tax-payers money is being squandered carelessly at Beverly Hills by some spoiled little rich girl who, perhaps unaware of their unexplained wealth, had the gall to post everything online. Her shiny Louboutins and their Disneyland mansions plastered all over social media made the case increasingly harder for us to ignore. These visuals triggered the ire of the otherwise indifferent middle class who finally found something to fight for.

 Fighting for Change

When I was younger, I refused to participate in discussions involving religion and politics thinking that these things are better left to the “adults.”  I was resigned to corruption in the Philippines the same way I was resigned to my Catholic upbringing. Both were something I was born into and were too late to change. Besides, I had other things I’d much rather worry about, like “bakit hindi ako crush ng crush ko?” 

It was only when I came to Dubai, when I lived with our kabayans and met many other different nationalities that I started to open my eyes to the realities of being a Christian and being a Filipino. I learned how it is not easy being a Pinoy in the Middle East and how coming from a third-world country limits my opportunities despite my merits. I saw first-hand how the lack of jobs in the Philippines has led many to leave their families behind and how corruption in the Philippine government continues to take advantage of our OFWs.

On the other hand, I also witnessed first-hand the kindness of strangers, especially of kabayans, how their simple “malasakit” have changed countless lives and steered them for the better. I was reacquainted with the phrase “love thy neighbor as you love thyself” in a concrete setting.  I learned that faith, more than anything else, is an action word, and if I wanted anything to change I needed to get involve. Cliché as it may seem, the change I wanted to see really had to begin with me.

Tatay on a rare occassion of attending my grade school graduation, with my Mom and Mama (grandma) . I did my best to make them proud, that gold medal was priceless to them.  

It’s all in the mind

A revolution, a real revolution, the kind that inspires real change, all of them begins in the mind.

In most Pinoy gatherings  (and we have a lot of these with a lot of pork dishes too), I hear talk about corruption, all of us pinoys hate our government, but only a few really believe that Philippines can be saved.  I cannot blame them. Hundreds of years had passed since our national hero, Rizal wrote his epic Noli me Tangere, yet it remains relevant today, reflecting the same ills that our society is suffering from since the 1800s. Nothing much has changed.

The 10 Billion Peso Pork Barrel scam and its catastrophic implications are no less than disheartening. I can understand the sentiments of most of my collegues when they say “wala naman mangyayari” or “ganyan naman lagi”. 

Perhaps it is so, but the little spark in me won’t die because I know for a fact (and I can swear on my Lolo’s grave) that heroes, real heroes, are just ordinary men and women doing extraordinary things.  

If only we can change our way of thinking, if only we start to believe in our own capabilities. There is no better time for us, the Illustrados, to wake up and inspire the change we want to see by sticking to our ideals and sharing what we know. Today, with social media as our connecting thread, one click can go a long way.  It is time to finally make use of our expensive smartphones and education degrees that are parents worked hard to provide.

It is time for us to actively participate in our country’s future as we all share a common destiny. It is about time we stop wasting our potential. Be a hero minus the dorky cape.     

Tatay's final resting place. He has lived and died a hero and he will stay in our hearts forever.

Minsan: The Eraserheads Reunion Concert in Dubai

 “Nostalgia - it's delicate, but potent. It's a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. It takes us to a place where we ache to go again.” – Don Draper, Mad Men

The heads with Sancho, old time collaborator, friend and third guitarist, who Ely introduced to the crowd
as the “fifth Eraserhead. 

I was 13, on my first year at a co-ed highschool when I first saw the Eraserheads play at the UP sunken garden. It was my first ever real live concert. I went with one of my best friends and her cool older sister who was at the time, studying at the same University.  There were plastic balloons flying around which I later learned were called “condoms”. We know pretty much all of the songs from Circus, Ultraelectromagnetic pop and Cutterpillow, but even if you don’t have the records there’s no way you can escape them on the radio. Honestly, who can resist Ely Buendia and his witty common-guy lines about sem-break and heartache?

Such was the pull of the Eheads, it wasn’t just the music per se. In a way, there was a reason why they were always being compared to the Beatles. They were our generation’s (our country’s) Beatlemania. It was a cultural thing more than anything. They had too much influence in fact that everyone, young and old, even the resident “tambays” at your neighborhood sari-sari store would most certainly know the lyrics to  Pare Ko.

I moved to Dubai in 2009, like many other pinoys, in search of better opportunities. As a music fan, and having spent most of my adult life working for the “pop machine”, the news of the Eraserheads Reunion in Dubai was just too good to be true and when it was confirmed that they will be playing at the annual du Music Festival, all of us “Kabayans” based here were psyched.  It was collectively agreed, on all our facebook accounts and twitter feeds, that we HAVE to see them. 

When you work outside the country and your monthly budget is limited, divided into remittances, loans, and other responsibilities, you think twice about spending precious hard-earned money on concerts, but the Eraserheads Reunion, was not just a WANT, it was a NEED. We needed to be there. We needed to see Ely, Raimund, Buddy and Markus play our favorite songs. We needed to belong to that special place again. We needed a piece home as we remembered it.

The Eheads reunion couldn’t have come at a better time.  It was on the same week we launched our first Tagalog / OPM FM station in the Middle East, Tag 91.1 and all streets had banners of either the Eheads or Tag 91.1 that said “serving 645,000 Filipinos in the UAE.” It felt like, for once, the whole of Dubai, was nodding at our Community with respect, and we are finally getting the recognition we deserved.    

I was fortunate enough to be invited to the press conference and while waiting for the band, I met another Filipina, Maggie Lafuente, who came out there with her husband. She skipped work for the chance to meet the Eheads up close. She was trembling.  

 “I was working in London at the time of their first reunion concert in 2008, I badly wanted to go.” Maggie shares.  “I was ready to book a ticket. My sister had to stop me and told me it wasn’t practical. Then I heard about Ely’s heart attack, I CRIED, they just mean that much to me. I never thought I’d see them live again. You see those girls on old footages screaming out, crying over the Beatles, they look crazy but I’d be one of them for Eraserheads.”

Of course, 90% of the media representatives in room were Filipino. I came with former Pulp photographer and good friend Brutal Grace and for a second there I felt like I was at home.

We were told not ask “personal” questions and only stick to the “music festival”. There was a bit of awkwardness at first, but Markus, the more laid back member of the group, put everyone at ease with his clever one-liners. I asked them the most standard thing I could think of  - what was their impression of Dubai, of the place, of the people.

Buddy was quick to answer,  “We are impressed by the camaraderie of the Filipino Community and the incredible presence and support.  We also experienced a bit of the diverse culture in Dubai, like last night we tried Ethiopian food, which was really good.”

When asked if they learned to say any Arabic words, Markus came out with “Kebab, Kebab Dylan, Kebab Marley”, that cracked everyone up and after that the questions just came pouring in until finally somebody was brave enough to ask the obvious    - why a reunion? and why in Dubai? 

Raymund playfully sang “reunited coz it feels so good.” Buddy replies “how many Filipinos are now in Dubai? 600,000? So we have 600,000 reasons to play here and finally Ely spoke up with a cheeky retort – “peer pressure”.

More than 10,000 fans in the UAE came to Dubai Media City to see the Eraserheads perform live on stage again. 

“It was simply natural progression.” Ely explains further.  “We are all doing our own thing for awhile now and then there was this clamor to get back together again and play, especially for those who are based outside the Philippines, and have not seen us play live yet. We are music fans ourselves, and we know what its like to love a band and grow up with their songs. We are just grateful that our songs still resonate with our fans.”

About the songs that they packed for the concert, Raimund shares, “we picked the ones that we enjoy playing. We didn’t really think much about what people will like, or what other nationalities will be there to see us play, pinili namin yung masarap tugtugin.”

I would say this decision just paid off big time. There is simply nothing better than seeing your favorite band enjoying themselves on stage while singing your favorite songs. I was there during the first reunion in 2008, I didn’t feel as connected to them as I was at the Dubai show. Perhaps it was the “homesickness” but I would say the Eraserheads Reunion concert in Dubai, was in the purest sense, about “connection”, about all of us, including the band, sharing the familiar songs and the memories.

The band kicked it off aptly with “Walang Nagbago”, then went on to perform 27 of their best hits, among them the well-loved songs -  ‘Maling Akala’, ‘Ligaya, Huwag Mo Ng Itanong’ , ‘Kailan’ ‘Overdrive’, ‘With A Smile’, ‘Julie Tear Jerky’, Magazin, Minsan and Super Proxy which they dedicated to the late Francis M, who were with them at their last concert in Dubai back in 1999. With over 10,000 fans in attendance, the Eraserheads Reunion at the du World Music Festival last 4^th April was one of the biggest, and possibly the loudest, Dubai has seen this year. 

A friend wrote on his facebook status the night after the concert –

"The best thing about watching Eraserheads is not about the band itself, It's about having the greatest time with your friends, friends that mean the whole song to you, people who you can sing and relate with, banging and just having a great time!Thanks mga pare ko!"

He is right. There was this magic moment, when everyone out in the open field of Dubai Media city was  all singing along to “With a Smile”. We all knew the lyrics to the entire song by heart. It’s hard not to get sentimental, coz the song was about us, about my friends, old and new, about every single struggling overseas filipino I've ever met in Dubai, including myself. 

Lift your head, baby don't be scared / with the things that could go wrong along the way.
We'll get by with a smile / We'll get along with a little prayer and a song.

What does OPM Mean?

This is a question I’ve been asked many times, and frankly a question that I have been struggling to answer every time.  As an acronym, it refers to Original Pilipino Music, but the more difficult question is what does "Original" mean? What does "Pilipino music" mean? and more importantly, what does it mean, to me, personally.

Ever since I got here in Dubai, I have been blessed (and sometimes cursed) with the opportunity to work on, one way or another, distributing and promoting OPM. 

I am certainly no expert and I can only speak for my behalf. The truth is I am just another fan trying to get as much I can.  

So if you ask me what does OPM mean to me?  It is not one thing, but rather a flood of memories, of  familiar songs and tiny take-away moments like ....

...Rivermaya singing Himala to a small hopeful crowd at Gotham in Malate on a rainy night 

....or watching the Eraserheads live for the first time at the UP Sunken Garden with my High school friends

....hearing a blind man with a guitar singing Freddie Aguilar's Anak on one of Manila’s sidewalks while walking towards the jeepney stand

....catching Cynthia Alexander play at Fete de la Musique year after year and always taken away by how really good she is

....or simply hanging out in some dingy club in Espanya or in Saguijo watching 20+ bands plug and play. 

...or this one day at work, huddled in the boardroom, listening and getting  excited by  this unique take of one Filipina singer on Bossa Nova

... or finding a club in Dubai and being able to order Sisig and San miguel while watching the versatile all-pinoy line up go from Pop to Rock to R&B.  

... recently OPM meant singing Eraserhead's "Minsan" and being overwhelmed with that strange liberating feeling of singing along in your native tounge with your best buddies and 10,000 fans on an open field in an alien Middle East City such as Dubai.   

OPM is my cause, my community and a large part of my identity. OPM is alive, but I do believe it needs and deserves support, more than the stupid Gwiyomi or Gangnam or Harlem Shake videos that don't mean anything. 


OPM means we are one.

"Sasalubungin natin ang kinabukasan, ng walang takot at walang pangamba, Tadahana'y medyo overated kung minsan,....one of my favorite singer-songwriters Rico Blanco in Dubai October 2009.

Comfort in your strangeness... with Cynthia Alexander, another one of my OPM heroes, back in the day. 

EPIC. Me and Brutal Grace with the Heads backstage after their sold-out Reunion concert in Dubai.

Support the OPM Means movement : www.facebook.com/opmmeans Your favorite Filipino hits are now available for download in the UAE on www.musicstore.ae

Homeland Security and My Alternate Life

I don’t think I ever told anybody this story.

Sometime towards the tail end of 2008, I was getting restless and well, bored , when I stumbled upon a “work abroad” site that had an opening for a “copywriter” to be based in the UAE.

Moving to an Arab country, at that time, to me, sounded absurd and dangerous yet strangely appealing.  Dubai, of course was being hyped as this city of big easy money, extreme luxury, and endless job openings. Still our people had their doubts about Dubai and it wasn’t exactly what one would consider “cool”.

Anyway, I clicked on the link and soon enough I found myself walking into one of them old recruitment agencies in Manila, the type that are always packed with applicants, with wooden floors that creaked and rooms that smelled like old forgotten cigarettes.

I looked around, most of the people were either out of jobs or in this quest for their dream to “work abroad” and provide for their families.  The first thought in my head was guilt. There I was, young, single with a stable career in what many would actually consider a dream job, I really shouldn't be there. It didn’t seem right to hoard opportunities, at least that how I felt initially and then I reminded myself that the Philippines is a democratic-equal opportunity- country and I was after a specific copywriter job that, given this dingy hole in the wall, I’m pretty sure not many copywriters worth their salt would consider. I would say there wasn’t exactly competition.

So we waited, for like a half day, for the so-called “Principal”, the much revered foreign recruiter who flew all the way to do a 3-minute interview with each of us lucky participants of the job lottery.

I was expecting some Arab guy to meet me, but when I was finally called into the interrogation room, I was surprised to find an Indian Lady. She handed me her card. I did a mental note to research this company online.  She told me she belonged to a group of companies that had a growing ad agency in the Middle East, and that they were looking a copywriter.  Predictably, it ended with “we will get in touch with you.”

I thought that was the end of it. I was somehow relieved that it didn’t go the next level, because the truth is, I wasn’t really ready to rock the boat just yet.  Then it happened, I got the call that said I passed the first round and that they will be needing me to fill out a “copy test ”.

This is where it becomes interesting.  So I got the copy test on email, and the test was to come up with a Press Release for ….well, of all things.... an upcoming HOMELAND SECURITY expo.



The reference material was for something like this.



See, I did have some experience writing Press releases for expos because in my first ever job I was writing a lot of them for the annual Travel Tour Expo, but Homeland Security -  in the Middle East -  is maybe something that is not up my alley.  I looked at the reference material, and it was indeed a brochure intended for just about any country’s Department of Defense or your regular terrorist-next-door guy, depending on how you look at it.

Despite my apprehension, I did honestly think about what to write for the next couple of days.  I tried to imagine the audience for the PR, images of military men, the secret service, arab leaders, war and terrorist attacks slowly trickled in and I finally decided that staying for the next Twilight soundtrack launch and writing radio scripts for Josh Groban might just be for the best.

I don’t recall telling anybody (especially my parents) the story, because it just seemed like the kind of thing that you keep to yourself. I eventually managed to land a job in Dubai, but nothing as deeply unsettling  and as undeniably interesting as that first overseas job offer.

I was a sheltered little girl who believed in peace and in a perfect world of pop records and movie franchises. Maybe if I knew then what I know now,  I would have grabbed the opportunity. I guess today I’ll have to be content in thinking that somewhere in a parallel universe, I am receiving Homeland security brochures, working on press kits for the latest military tech, sending out invites to some rocket launch and handling inquiries from the CIA…..

Ok, I know, I should probably stop watching Homeland.



Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?



 

Ps. I am not able to access my old yahoo account (where the copy test has been sent) for over a year now. Suffice to say, the said email account has been “compromised.”

What is Freedom?

Sometimes you wouldn't know what Freedom means until you come into a place where it is scarce.

Here in Dubai, I believe it has been bought and traded for the comforts of luxury by locals and expats alike, all of us, including me. In other places in the Middle East,  take Saudi, Syria, the Gaza strip, for those places, Freedom remains nothing but a vague figment of a dream, or a downright irrelevant illusion.  Places where citizens might rather wish to trade their nationality for a shiny new visa that would strip them of their roots and ultimately protect them from persecution. 

Meanwhile in the Philippines, everyone has a say, everyone gets to have a go at it. One little faux pas, and everyone is entitled to his or her own piece. In the past few months, we have observed how Social media has been exploited relentlessly by our kababayans, sharing and liking, commenting expertly, fiercely, sometimes unwittingly. 

We exercised our rights and fought for our opinions out on the streets, on facebook walls, on tweeter feeds, at the airport, at home, in our offices, and even in the Senate halls, criticizing and impeaching the highest counsel.  In the heat of discussions on whether  - Jessica Sanchez should've won American Idol, or if Manny Pacquiao was stupid to disagree with Gay Marriage, whether Lady Gaga and her antics should be allowed to corrupt our morals, and if Bayo was racist in their 50percent campaign,  many times  we heard the phrase ''It is a free country'' used as mighty defense. 

Perhaps it would be naive to think that our little voices mean anything, but having the right to say what you want to say when you want to say it, and being allowed to be where you want to be, those seemingly trivial things, those two, i've come to realize, are the very basics of Freedom. 

In the wake of our 114th independence day, I still count myself among the lucky ones, we do truly have every reason to celebrate. Love, value and protect our Freedom. It is something no amount of money or First-world comforts can buy, it is a gift that many of our valiant men had died for, and rightly so.

Mabuhay ang Pilipinas!

Art Dubai and my Big 3 (Part One)

Life is short,

Art long,

Opportunity fleeting,

Experience treacherous,

Judgment difficult.

- Hippocrates, 400BC


I got this quote from  a New York times article i'm reading just now and it fittingly sums up my week and come to think of it,  my 3 years in Dubai.

I've been too busy past few days that I forgot about my "Coming to Dubai" anniversary. March 15. Its official, I've been in Desert City for 3 years, and yes, I've been mostly away from home for 3 years. If I stayed in my first job, i wouldve finished my contract by now, but thankfully God had other plans.

The decision to come here was a one-eye-open-jump-off-the cliff kind-of-thing. You know one of those moments where you really just decide to drop all inhibitions and just TAKE A CHANCE, because something inside tells you if you don't do it, you'll never know and you'll be left wondering, and boy, am I glad I did.

Three years ago i took that leap and now I'd say I'm finally in the water floating free.


Life is short. Opportunity Fleeting, and though you do get a lot of chances to get it right, the opportunities are never the same, and if you don't take the high road, and take a risk you could be missing out on something really special or even life-changing.


Experience Treacherous, Judgement Difficult. Dubai is not the easiest foreign city to live in, especially if you've been raised in Asian-meets-Catholic values and predominantly Western ideals of Freedom, and where you can get away with much of everything if you know how. When i first came here, I pretty much had to let go of most of my previous self, my old experiences, and reserve most of my judgements until i learned ropes.

Life is short. Art long. For what is Art but the imitation of life, and vice versa, a certain truth, and a way of looking at things differently. This week Dubai was alive with Art, and despite the fact that the city hides a dangerous ugly dungeon, it gave me the unique opportunity to reconnect with Art, and eventually brought me back to myself. Only this time, I am a different person looking at another angle, recognizing parts of myself and seeing that my life's painting has a lot more to offer now.

I am the same but not the same, and this week has been pivotal to that change. 


MONDAY :  

5pm Monday - Dubai Mall :

I found myself in Dubai Mall with some spare time, and as an old habit, whenever I find myself in the mall with time to kill, I go to the bookstore. It's been a while since i let myself wander around books, i took some to read, and lo and behold at the far end of the bookstore, behind the Manga section, I found a Japanese coffeeshop overlooking the famous Dubai fountain.

If there's one thing in Dubai ill never get tired of seeing it is this fountain. I order cappucinno, four Japanese women walk in, a grandma, her 30something daughter, her 20-something young niece and a 2-year old little girl. They sit in front of me and the fountain show starts. For a moment there, it felt like I was sitting at the border between two worlds - asian-Japan and the the very Vegas-inspired Dubai Fountain, and that the Universe or God is trying to tell me a secret.

I take out my Muji notebook and I'm writing again, the traditional way, with Pen and Paper. The return of the Familiar. "Welcome back" - i whispered silently to myself. My Blackberry phone dies before i could share the moment. Just as it should.


7pm, Monday - Armani Hotel  : 

My photographer friend calls me out on my reverie and I go with her to the much-hyped Armani Hotel, where she had to take some photos of some high-end Art exhibit. As expected, high-end art was nowhere near real art, so she went to work taking photos of people who were mostly there for the Champagne and prestige. I wandered off to check out the so-called art, only to find a pixelated hundred dirham bill stuck in a gold frame, with a 22,000aed price tag. "Yes, Dorothy, you are still in Dubai" - I whispered to myself.

At that point I lost interest in Armani art, got myself a glass of free champagne, sat on a corner and people-watched. My friend comes back after 15minutes, she's done taking photos, and dying for a cigarette. We went to the overpriced veranda of the Armani Hotel to watch the Fountain again. And while smoking i decided to ask her about the incredibly story of how she met the rock icon Karl Roy, who died on Sunday. Her story was larger than life, like Karl and it blew me away. It was a story that made me think about chances. There on the Armani balcony, I hear a true-to-life story about Taking chances, more importantly Taking a chance on people and giving people a chance. How a small thing can change one person's life, and eventually make a difference in the world. A Stone picked up and thrown in the river creating ripples.

Almost Famous: Brutal Grace, my friend-photographer, got her first big break because she was a fan of Karl Roy and then Karl Roy became his fan, and their lives we're never the same again. 

It was then I realized that your life is not entirely yours, like how a painting or anything created out of nowhere becomes a part of the collective world and now has the potential to affect the next person that you come across - and because of this one should never, if he can help it, put a pixelated Hundred Dirham painting on a Gold canvass and call it Art. Karl Roy never did. God bless your soul Karl.


9PM, Monday - DIFC: 

To shake away the Armani Art exhibit let down, My friend and I decided to get a dose of some real art and headed to, well the Dubai Financial Center, the hub of decent art galleries in Dubai. Of course, money brings the best art to the region, and art without the means, well, it is good but sad. So DIFC galleries at least had more real art to showcase and the crowd was much more eclectic. I cannot go as far as say authentic, but for what its worth the crowd had character.

We meet a young famous artist - Sacha Jafri, who had an exhibit filled with doodles he'd done with special ed kids. These were very good doodles with good messages for a good cause. He was a fan of Kafka, and one of his drawings had a cassette tape that says SideA-Side B. Of course, we fell in love with him.

We stayed till the everybody left coz the art vibe was really getting to us and it was a good feeling. Then, when you least expect it magic happens. A take-away moment, mostly for my friend, but i was happy to be there.

Sacha comes out of his gallery tired, and sits with us for a while. He said he's been mostly travelling, London, New York. I, mere consumer of art, sit there comfortably with the maker, chat and drink a bit, thinking that  this guy is possibly a toast in his circle. It doesn''t matter, at that moment he was like any other guy. At that moment we were on the same playing field. Such is the charm Dubai, chance meetings are extraordinarily ordinary.

*End of Part 1*

to be continued.












 

Ramadan.

The thirty days of fasting is almost over, supposedly 30 days of quiet reflection and repression of human desires. I am not muslim so I can only be outside looking in, yet without a choice I also find myself wandering at the heart of this tradition.

They say that people are kinder, more peaceful, more forgiving  more generous around here in the Arab world at this time the year but sadly the bloodshed continue, the prejudice continue, the ignorance continue and selfish desires continue.

For what good is prayer if one doesn’t know compassion or humanity. What good is prayer to people to who have a vague idea about love or whose idea of Love is between the legs, empty romantic messages sneaked in on midnight, Teddy Bears on a 24-7 grocery store. 

The tale of the tower of Babel is true, people have grown up with so much prejudice and hate for one another that they have been punished to speak in alien tounges,  vaguely understanding each other, so they end up criticising what they don’t understand.

The truth is, its not just the Arab world. Look at Norway. Turned out your Average Blonde Guy had it in him to be the next Hitler, or you don’t have to go very far, I’m sure there are enough average people around you who think they are better simply because they were born of a certain race.

In this quiet month, I’ve been asking myself, why can’t people get along nowadays? Why can’t we be kinder to each other?  Why can’t we mean what we say and say what mean? Why is it so hard to appreciate each other?  Why is it so hard to CARE?

Kindness costs nothing yet we are willing to pay the price for sloth, selfishness, vanity and greed.

Seriously, what is the use of fasting, if we cannot give even just a little to those who are dying of Hunger, not just physical but emotional and spiritual.

Somebody would come in and say the world is not my problem. But let me ask you, what do you think about when you look at the Moon? Or the Sunset ? or the Sea?  Or when you close your eyes to sleep?

Aren’t we all just looking at the same thing from another angle? Aren’t we all just breathing the same air?

I’m not trying to point fingers, obviously I have my own failings and weaknesses, but merely stating observations.  The world is increasingly breeding a population full of self-obsessed , self-patronizing, socially inept individuals recording, tweeting away their lives every 5 seconds.

In fact I am beginning to think my niceness has come to point where it is becoming a liability and that I am now thinking about being selfish and rude like everyone else - Become UNAVAILABLE. But then again what good would it do to become another selfish person?

I am not perfect, I am merely alarmed at what we all are turning out to be. Everyone is suffering. We will all burn in hell. 

Ramadan.  Really what for?