The potty Salik road toll system continues to amaze me. I ran out of credit a couple of weeks ago and, for one reason or another, I haven't managed to top it up. It's just been a mad time and every time I remember or am near a service station I've either been in a mad tear to get to a meeting or I haven't had cash on me. Because, of course, you can only pay for the blasted toll in cash.
A while ago they announced that you could pay online, so I toddled off to their website (www.salik.ae) to do just that. Imagine my delight when I saw that the module was up and running!
So I entered my account number, PIN code and mobile number and then went downstairs to the car to find the tag number because for some reason the system doesn't know my tag number automatically (a miracle of technology integration, is Salik). And then went to the 'Recharge' option on the menu, entered Dhs 250 as my recharge amount and pressed 'Next' to take me to the egovernment epay service and make my payment.
Nothing happened. Because it doesn't work. It's not broken or anything like that: it simply just isn't working. And I've been going back over the past week or so just to check that it still doesn't work.
So I checked my balance (32 Dhs apparently, but I know that it is -32 Dhs) and my violations (no violations).
No violations? Yes! No violations!
Genius. You can't pay for it, but it doesn't matter because nothing happens when you don't pay for it. Which makes it completely, utterly and totally pointless.
Which is what so many of us have been saying all along, I know...
Thursday, 8 November 2007
Tuesday, 6 November 2007
Sharjah Bad Traffic Day
Dubai traffic is normally bad, but Sharjah definitely took the biscuit this morning. The airport road was jammed, the Emirates road gridlocked back from the notorious National Paints to the airport road exit (RAK to Dubai in 45 minutes! Yeah, right). If you could have bottled all that misery and frustration then you'd have a bottle of misery and frustration.
We sailed through it in the main, thanks to many years' experience of snickets, back-routes and sneaky little hops, although even out in the desert roads there were cars backed up left, right and centre. But the biggest surprise of the day was yet to come.
The little bit of desert I hop across on the way to work was absolutely heaving with cars: every kind of four wheel drive imaginable was bogged down and they all had one thing in common.
They were all locals.
Now I can remember pal Matthew getting his Wrangler bogged on a beach in Umm Al Qawain and a local bloke sailing past him, laughing, shouting in glee and waving his arms at the helpless Matt as he gunned the engine of his Nissan Sunny.
I can remember in Falaj Al Moalla seeing a Chevrolet Brougham beating a Land Cruiser up a dune in a straight race, the Chevy absolutely bog standard except for its local driver, who must have killed the clutch in that one victorious impossibility.
I can remember seeing a local driving a Mercedes up Big Red - and many other unfeasible sights did Big Red (now, thanks to the volume of cars that ply its slopes, reduced to Little Red) give up over the years - and every time there was a local at the wheel, making cars do what they're simply not supposed to do on the sand.
In fact, I have many years of happy memories of locals driving cars in the desert with incredible skill, breakneck derring-do and a seeming disregard for life and limb that has never been less than jaw-droppingly impressive.
But I can never remember seeing so many nationals bogged down in any piece of sand, let alone a straightforward set of small dunes and tracks - in winter, too, when the sand is harder. It has forced me to reach a conclusion.
They don't make locals like they used to...
We sailed through it in the main, thanks to many years' experience of snickets, back-routes and sneaky little hops, although even out in the desert roads there were cars backed up left, right and centre. But the biggest surprise of the day was yet to come.
The little bit of desert I hop across on the way to work was absolutely heaving with cars: every kind of four wheel drive imaginable was bogged down and they all had one thing in common.
They were all locals.
Now I can remember pal Matthew getting his Wrangler bogged on a beach in Umm Al Qawain and a local bloke sailing past him, laughing, shouting in glee and waving his arms at the helpless Matt as he gunned the engine of his Nissan Sunny.
I can remember in Falaj Al Moalla seeing a Chevrolet Brougham beating a Land Cruiser up a dune in a straight race, the Chevy absolutely bog standard except for its local driver, who must have killed the clutch in that one victorious impossibility.
I can remember seeing a local driving a Mercedes up Big Red - and many other unfeasible sights did Big Red (now, thanks to the volume of cars that ply its slopes, reduced to Little Red) give up over the years - and every time there was a local at the wheel, making cars do what they're simply not supposed to do on the sand.
In fact, I have many years of happy memories of locals driving cars in the desert with incredible skill, breakneck derring-do and a seeming disregard for life and limb that has never been less than jaw-droppingly impressive.
But I can never remember seeing so many nationals bogged down in any piece of sand, let alone a straightforward set of small dunes and tracks - in winter, too, when the sand is harder. It has forced me to reach a conclusion.
They don't make locals like they used to...
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Thursday, 1 November 2007
UAE Car Crash Nationality Chart
If you’re tempted to have a car crash, then do keep this handy chart so that you know where you’re likely to stand.
- Khaleeji
- Brit
- Aussie/South African
- Yank
- Other Euro
- French
- Korean
- Japanese
- Lebanese/Jordanian
- Syrian
- Iraqi
- Egyptian
- Palestinian
- Other Arab
- Sudanese
- Philipina
- Philipino
- Indian
- Pakistani
- Chinese
- Nepalese
- Bangladeshi
- Pathan
- Tibetan
- Afghan
Notes
Does not take into account relative status ie: British shop assistant vs Chinese Ambassador. This complicates things, obviously.
Does not take into account ethnic origin. So, for instance, South African passport holder of Goan extraction tends to confuse things a little. Nobody’s fooled by a Lebanese name holding a Canadian passport, so it’s probably best not to try.
Does not take into account linguistic ability. If you’re able to speak Arabic, move yourself up a couple of notches.
Does not take recent world events into account. If you’re Pakistani and you’ve just lost to
Does not take personality into account. Move down three notches if you’re an argumentative, arrogant twat. It’s OK, you’ll still be just ahead of the rest of
Does not take the facts of what happened into account. However, this doesn’t really matter as a) the other person will lie outrageously, b) the copper will in all likelihood refuse to understand the blindingly obvious evidence burnt into the tarmac in front of him and c) nobody really wants the inconvenience of prolonging the whole sorry episode and if you get all dogmatic you’ll just end up down at the cop shop being told you’ll have to lodge a civil suit.
Does not take alcohol into account. You really don’t want to have had a couple of sundowners before this happened. Go to the bottom of the pile instantly and get mentally prepared to dine on biryani.
If your country of origin is not listed above, use the country nearest to yours.
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Sunday, 28 October 2007
Ships of the Desert!
The story is that of Egyptian journalist Amer Sulaiman, fined by a court for offending the 'Tarabin' tribe. The fine was a thousand camels. The spotter, Gianni, delighted by the barminess of the story and the picture that illustrated it in La Stampa, above, duly shared.
A thousand camels. That's an awful lot of fleas to infest a chap's armpits...
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Thursday, 25 October 2007
How Green Was My Valley
Now this one gets a bit involved, but do bear with me.
It’s in all the papers today. Sheikh Mohammad has announced that all buildings inDubai
Today also sees the announcement of the inauguration of the Middle East Centre for Sustainable Development, an initiative backed by The Environment Health and Safety (EHS) and Pacific Controls. If you were wondering who EHS were, according to the 1st September story on the announcement of the MCSD in Arabianbusiness.com, it’s the environment, health and safety division of Dubai World (whose CEO, Sultan bin Sulayem, patronised the launch). The ‘establishment will facilitate the roll out of green buildings to developers in Dubai World and the Middle East, provide service and systems that will establish guidelines for all development projects, assist them to achieve LEED certification, under USGBC/EGBC Guidelines and/or certification, established under the guidelines of MCSD, thus enabling sustainable development in the whole Middle East region.’
This must be all be regarded as something of a PR coup for Pacific Controls which, of course, supplies consulting and engineering for intelligent and ‘green’ buildings. And which first launched the Middle East Centre for Sustainable Development back in August. So this is a pretty neat second hit at the story!
Pacific is an interesting company, originally headquartered in Australia, it appears to have moved its head office to Dubai - and CEO Dilip Rahulman is also chairman of Solar Technologies, a Free Zone company that, back in 2006, announced the establishment of a Dhs50 million solar power energy facility in Dubai Techno Zone. So quite a commitment to Dubai from Pacific...
The company's green HQ was originally intended to be opened in April 2006, according to this company release dated February 9th 2006, but perhaps more interesting is that the building was originally to be certified by a completely different body to the USGBC - in fact, the Confederation of Indian Industry (CII) was originally to provide certification. Both of these facts perhaps would arguably merit further investigation, but our investigative media would appear to be too busy fighting over cash awards from the government.
In news completely unrelated to the sudden outbreak of green angst inDubai , an international UN-backed conference on the global environment today opened in Abu Dhabi , organised by The Environment Agency, Abu Dhabi
It’s in all the papers today. Sheikh Mohammad has announced that all buildings in
Today also sees the announcement of the inauguration of the Middle East Centre for Sustainable Development, an initiative backed by The Environment Health and Safety (EHS) and Pacific Controls. If you were wondering who EHS were, according to the 1st September story on the announcement of the MCSD in Arabianbusiness.com, it’s the environment, health and safety division of Dubai World (whose CEO, Sultan bin Sulayem, patronised the launch). The ‘establishment will facilitate the roll out of green buildings to developers in Dubai World and the Middle East, provide service and systems that will establish guidelines for all development projects, assist them to achieve LEED certification, under USGBC/EGBC Guidelines and/or certification, established under the guidelines of MCSD, thus enabling sustainable development in the whole Middle East region.’
This must be all be regarded as something of a PR coup for Pacific Controls which, of course, supplies consulting and engineering for intelligent and ‘green’ buildings. And which first launched the Middle East Centre for Sustainable Development back in August. So this is a pretty neat second hit at the story!
Pacific is an interesting company, originally headquartered in Australia, it appears to have moved its head office to Dubai - and CEO Dilip Rahulman is also chairman of Solar Technologies, a Free Zone company that, back in 2006, announced the establishment of a Dhs50 million solar power energy facility in Dubai Techno Zone. So quite a commitment to Dubai from Pacific...
The company's green HQ was originally intended to be opened in April 2006, according to this company release dated February 9th 2006, but perhaps more interesting is that the building was originally to be certified by a completely different body to the USGBC - in fact, the Confederation of Indian Industry (CII) was originally to provide certification. Both of these facts perhaps would arguably merit further investigation, but our investigative media would appear to be too busy fighting over cash awards from the government.
In news completely unrelated to the sudden outbreak of green angst in
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Tuesday, 23 October 2007
Biting The Hand That Feeds
As we continue to applaud Sheikh Mohammad's wise intervention in the Khaleej Times journalists threatened with jail case and his Undertaking That Journalists In The UAE Will Not Face Prison As A Potential Consequence Of The Pursuit Of Their Profession (with certain caveats as confirmed by certain authorities in a certain way), media and the law are something of a focus around here at the moment. It is perhaps timely and even mildly amusing to see the news that a journalist is suing the government-owned Dubai Press Club, his former managing editor and his former employer, the enormous Saudi Research and Marketing Group over an award for journalism.
The problem, apparently, is that the journalist feels that a $15,000 award for investigative reporting was wrongly presented by Dubai Press Club to his managing editor, as the journalist claims that he contributed to the report. He is suing for just under $137,000.
Litigious hack slaps back indeed.
The Gulf News report of the scrap details the slightly complex nature of the suit, which has now gone to appeal having been thrown out by the Civil Court for 'lack of evidence'.
None of the investigative reporters involved appear to have seen fit to question scrabbling in the dust for a cash award for journalism made by a government-backed entity. Strange, that...
The problem, apparently, is that the journalist feels that a $15,000 award for investigative reporting was wrongly presented by Dubai Press Club to his managing editor, as the journalist claims that he contributed to the report. He is suing for just under $137,000.
Litigious hack slaps back indeed.
The Gulf News report of the scrap details the slightly complex nature of the suit, which has now gone to appeal having been thrown out by the Civil Court for 'lack of evidence'.
None of the investigative reporters involved appear to have seen fit to question scrabbling in the dust for a cash award for journalism made by a government-backed entity. Strange, that...
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Monday, 22 October 2007
Modesty is my Middle Name
So the meeting ends and we both leave the building, the client for a sneaky smoke outside the back door and myself to go to my car.
"Wow. Is the black one yours?" asks the client. My car's parked under the covered awnings behind me to the left.
"Yes," I say, smiling. But I'm perhaps a tad puzzled. I'm quite fond of my wee Pajero, but it's a 4WD and doesn't really tend to attract that many wows. And I detected a hint of envy in the client's wow, too. You know, more of a WOW than a Wow.
"Are you a fan or something?"
"Absolutely. I think they're gorgeous. I'm quite impressed, to tell you the truth!"
By now I'm a little worried. "Well, it gets me from A to B, I suppose," I say, laughing, a little nervously. The client's laughing too in the kind of 'you old dog' rogueish way that people laugh at people who are bullshitting them.
And then I turn towards the covered parking and walk to my car. I have to squeeze past the black Porsche 944 that's parked beside it as I get in.
Daaaammmnnn.
"Wow. Is the black one yours?" asks the client. My car's parked under the covered awnings behind me to the left.
"Yes," I say, smiling. But I'm perhaps a tad puzzled. I'm quite fond of my wee Pajero, but it's a 4WD and doesn't really tend to attract that many wows. And I detected a hint of envy in the client's wow, too. You know, more of a WOW than a Wow.
"Are you a fan or something?"
"Absolutely. I think they're gorgeous. I'm quite impressed, to tell you the truth!"
By now I'm a little worried. "Well, it gets me from A to B, I suppose," I say, laughing, a little nervously. The client's laughing too in the kind of 'you old dog' rogueish way that people laugh at people who are bullshitting them.
And then I turn towards the covered parking and walk to my car. I have to squeeze past the black Porsche 944 that's parked beside it as I get in.
Daaaammmnnn.
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Saturday, 20 October 2007
Taxi!
I've always found taxi drivers to be essential to getting a quick feel for how things are going in a particular country at a particular time. Mr Ghulam, our 'regular' driver, is no different. A Ghulam's eye view of the world is often an interesting counterpart to my own.
Travelling, I always make sure to talk to any cabbies I meet. This has often resulted in me having a remarkable 'inside view' of the place I've just landed in. Once, in Jordan, it resulted in me having my fortune told by an excellent numerologist. He was also, incidentally, driving the taxi but he was better known in his circle as a numerologist and was consulted by many as a result of his talents. I could see why - an uncanny reading and a refreshingly careless attitude to the less metaphysical question of foreign objects occluding with our own co-ordinates in the space time continuum meant that I was deeply glad to be able to get to the end of the reading with no direct reference made to the imminence of my meeting with my maker. That meeting is not one I am particularly keen to hasten as I am keenly aware that said maker is going to be expressing a great deal of disappointment, probably forcibly.
Anyway, Mr. Ghulam's highly amused that the UAE's petrol pumpers (with the exception of ADNOC, for some reason) have decided not to accept credit card transactions - a situation that I hate to say I predicted some time ago as the result of the nasty little spat between the petrol companies and the credit card companies. Ghulam's point of view is that they're forecourt pirates who are charging too much for petrol anyway and should give the banks the fees they're demanding.
My own personal view is, not unreasonably, that the overwhelming majority of bankers are scum and should be hung from meathooks - particularly anyone whose bank has the letters H, B, C and S in their names. I'm hugely amused to see the UAE's petrol companies take on Visa and Mastercard as the card companies try to levy their payment taxes. I'm sure the little guys (the petrol companies) won't win in the end. But there's a 'Passport to Pimlico' sort of David against Goliath fight against bullying, faceless force and willful bureaucracy that the Brit in me admires immensely.
Trust a cabbie to have it in for the petrol companies, of course. I always enjoy chatting with the cabbies at Heathrow about how much I pay for petrol here in the UAE (we pay per gallon what they pay per litre, a fun challenge for people with scientific calculators to work out what the ratio actually is I'm sure). It cheers them up, the poor dears.
I've always bought my petrol in cash. Just in case you're interested, Ghulam who, as a cabbie, is an expert, says that credit card accpeting petrol company ADNOC's a damn sight cheaper than anyone else anyway.
Travelling, I always make sure to talk to any cabbies I meet. This has often resulted in me having a remarkable 'inside view' of the place I've just landed in. Once, in Jordan, it resulted in me having my fortune told by an excellent numerologist. He was also, incidentally, driving the taxi but he was better known in his circle as a numerologist and was consulted by many as a result of his talents. I could see why - an uncanny reading and a refreshingly careless attitude to the less metaphysical question of foreign objects occluding with our own co-ordinates in the space time continuum meant that I was deeply glad to be able to get to the end of the reading with no direct reference made to the imminence of my meeting with my maker. That meeting is not one I am particularly keen to hasten as I am keenly aware that said maker is going to be expressing a great deal of disappointment, probably forcibly.
Anyway, Mr. Ghulam's highly amused that the UAE's petrol pumpers (with the exception of ADNOC, for some reason) have decided not to accept credit card transactions - a situation that I hate to say I predicted some time ago as the result of the nasty little spat between the petrol companies and the credit card companies. Ghulam's point of view is that they're forecourt pirates who are charging too much for petrol anyway and should give the banks the fees they're demanding.
My own personal view is, not unreasonably, that the overwhelming majority of bankers are scum and should be hung from meathooks - particularly anyone whose bank has the letters H, B, C and S in their names. I'm hugely amused to see the UAE's petrol companies take on Visa and Mastercard as the card companies try to levy their payment taxes. I'm sure the little guys (the petrol companies) won't win in the end. But there's a 'Passport to Pimlico' sort of David against Goliath fight against bullying, faceless force and willful bureaucracy that the Brit in me admires immensely.
Trust a cabbie to have it in for the petrol companies, of course. I always enjoy chatting with the cabbies at Heathrow about how much I pay for petrol here in the UAE (we pay per gallon what they pay per litre, a fun challenge for people with scientific calculators to work out what the ratio actually is I'm sure). It cheers them up, the poor dears.
I've always bought my petrol in cash. Just in case you're interested, Ghulam who, as a cabbie, is an expert, says that credit card accpeting petrol company ADNOC's a damn sight cheaper than anyone else anyway.
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Wednesday, 17 October 2007
Someone's Put Acid in the Water
I swear it's finally happened: someone's dumped kilos of high quality acid in the water. It was only a matter of time before some wag thought of it. And the drugs have started to bite deep and hard just in time for Dubai's 'CityScape' real estate exhibition - 45,000 people are expected to wander around the sprawling ten-hall World Trade Center and visit this megalopolis of megalopolises.
The advertising around the event is proof positive that there is a twisted dose of California Sunshine in the public supplies: 'Find your home in a cultural palette' screams the wraparound to the Gulf News business section today from developers Dheeraj & East Coast. No thank you. I have no desire to live in a cultural palette. Whatever a cultural palette is. The ad goes on to gush 'Discover the roots of civilisation that flourished by the creek/Find contentment where life moves according to your own beat.'
Complete tosh.
But it gets worse. A lot worse. How about developer Iris Amber, which is offering 'A premium investment for those wishing to experience the warm tones of a cultivated life'?
The warm tones of a cultivated life? Really?
Or perhaps Qatari developer Qatari Diar (they must have hit the Qatari supply, too), which informs us: 'After all, there is only one Earth and there is only one you. It is our privilege to serve both.' An earnest promise, surely, and one to take seriously.
But this is my favourite from the rich crop of insane babble that is splashed across the double page spreads, four-page pullouts and wrap-arounds festooning today's UAE newspapers. How's this for acid-fuelled copywriting? "...a new kind of community, it provides all the comforts of upscale community living with one exception; smart value that does not come at the expense of ideal location, extensive community amenities, lush landscaping, spacious garden apartments, Moorish architecture and an uncompromising build quality"
Errr... wasn't that one exception?
Lush icons, peerless landscapes, unctuous vistas and scatological effulgence abound. A declamatory jumble of insanely positive assertion, semi-English verbiage and gushing torrents of epithet, plastered across the facade of an industry that only appears to understand facade.
The advertising around the event is proof positive that there is a twisted dose of California Sunshine in the public supplies: 'Find your home in a cultural palette' screams the wraparound to the Gulf News business section today from developers Dheeraj & East Coast. No thank you. I have no desire to live in a cultural palette. Whatever a cultural palette is. The ad goes on to gush 'Discover the roots of civilisation that flourished by the creek/Find contentment where life moves according to your own beat.'
Complete tosh.
But it gets worse. A lot worse. How about developer Iris Amber, which is offering 'A premium investment for those wishing to experience the warm tones of a cultivated life'?
The warm tones of a cultivated life? Really?
Or perhaps Qatari developer Qatari Diar (they must have hit the Qatari supply, too), which informs us: 'After all, there is only one Earth and there is only one you. It is our privilege to serve both.' An earnest promise, surely, and one to take seriously.
But this is my favourite from the rich crop of insane babble that is splashed across the double page spreads, four-page pullouts and wrap-arounds festooning today's UAE newspapers. How's this for acid-fuelled copywriting? "...a new kind of community, it provides all the comforts of upscale community living with one exception; smart value that does not come at the expense of ideal location, extensive community amenities, lush landscaping, spacious garden apartments, Moorish architecture and an uncompromising build quality"
Errr... wasn't that one exception?
Lush icons, peerless landscapes, unctuous vistas and scatological effulgence abound. A declamatory jumble of insanely positive assertion, semi-English verbiage and gushing torrents of epithet, plastered across the facade of an industry that only appears to understand facade.
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Tuesday, 16 October 2007
Woops! Oktoberfest
Sitting in Dubai's lavish Grand Hyatt for a meeting with guests from Germany: a client and her account manager from our affiliate, European mega-agency Pleon. Everything was just peachy until they found the Hyatt's Oktoberfest promotion leaflet:
"Steins, Pretzels, Sausages and an authentic Oktoberfest band await you in the air-conditioned festival tent. Don your lederhosen, grab your Fraulein and get into the spirit of all things German... just make sure you take your towel and get there before the Germans do!"
I didn't know whether to laugh or die of embarrassment. Neither did they. So we all did both.
"Steins, Pretzels, Sausages and an authentic Oktoberfest band await you in the air-conditioned festival tent. Don your lederhosen, grab your Fraulein and get into the spirit of all things German... just make sure you take your towel and get there before the Germans do!"
I didn't know whether to laugh or die of embarrassment. Neither did they. So we all did both.
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