Emirates

Image via WikipediaThis excellent article in the New York Times got me thinking about Dubai's greatest success story - its airline, Emirates. I've been flying with Emirates since the 1980s and it's long been my airline of choice. I'm a fan and I don't mind letting you know it.

One thing that has always amazed me about Emirates is how the management team, based around the near-legendary figure of Maurice Flanagan, has managed to turn two leased 'planes into one of the world's leading airlines. I don't care how much of Dubai's money was poured into it or how much support from the government EK has had in the past - the sheer achievement of creating the organisation, facilities and partnerships needed for something on this scale within one man's lifetime is breathtaking.

I've had my off moments with EK, alright (one story ended up with me being flagged in their reservation system as a 'Rude Pax', which made it into Arabian Business magazine, thank you very much Rhys bloody Jones). But I have had very many more satisfactory experiences and even occasionally been delighted.

Which is what it's all about, really. Exceeding high expectations is so hard to do - and yet EK so often manages just that.

You listening, HSBC? Good, just checking...

Groundhog Day

It's like groundhog day around here. The film, not the event.

The Central Bank has extended the deadline indefinitely for the implementation of the new Image Cheque Clearing System (ICCS), following problems implementing the system on January 1st 2011.

Meanwhile in unrelated news, the collective fat-headed nincompoopery that is my bank, HSBC, has once again seen fit to dishonour my rent cheque to my landlord. Which is precisely what they did in January last year.

On January 6th last year, I posted about both of these events. It's linked here. I pointed out the many problems people would face trying to present old cheques that lacked the security features mandated by the UAE Central Bank's implementation of the new automated cheque clearing system. I also pointed out what a communications disaster the whole thing had been. Of course there was little attempt to communicate the whole thing clearly and effectively and so, precisely a year later, the system has been once again delayed, withdrawn temporarily as everyone tries to work out how to go about honouring old cheques past the deadline set for them to be honoured.

The ICCS was first started as  project in 2005. Now, five years later, it still hasn't been implemented. Last year's confusion led to more delays and a new deadline (the original 'new cheques only' deadline was 1/1/2010) which has now been extended once again purely because nobody invested in effective communications.

Meanwhile, HSBC is saying, as it did last year, that my cheque has been dishonoured because of my signature. Last year I went to see the morons and we sat together and agreed that their scanner had squashed my signature, which is naturally some 5cm high. We rescanned my signature (I had, first, to try and copy the squashed signature, my 'old' signature before they'd scan my 'new' signature. Honest.) and then their scanner squashed my signature to look like the 'old' signature. In order to do this, of course, they required my passport copy - and wouldn't accept my National ID Card as proof of ID.

My signature is,  believe me, highly distinctive. I have been paying rent to my landlord for some ten years now. I write only two cheques every year - one to him, one to the post office. You'd have thought my bank could check the history or even telephone me before deciding to dishonour my cheque for tens of thousands of dirhams (obviously it would be an important transaction to me), but you'd think wrong. You'd assume some level of applied intelligence, care or (gasp!) initiative. And they are all sorely lacking. My bank has managed to make a mess of absolutely every aspect of banking, from issuing cards to making transfers, from providing a reliable, sensible and usable telephone and Internet banking service to honouring cheques. I am left dumbfounded as to how the hell they make money, but can only assume that totally ignoring the needs of your customers is the key to success.

You may want to suggest I find another bank. I am open to suggestions.

Meh

Image via WikipediaSome days you just take a look around you and throw up your hands.

Electricity and water charges in Dubai are going up by 15%, a rise that applies to expatriates only.

New labour card fees are to be announced soon, we're told - hot on the heels of the news that labour cards are to be renewed on a two year cycle rather than the current three year cycle. And somehow I don't think they're going to be talking about cutting the cost of the cards to reflect their 33% reduction in validity.

A top Dubai police official is calling for a ban on parades following the chaos (or fun, depends on how you look at it) of National Day - Abu Dhabi police have confirmed a whopping tally of 25,000 bookings and 300 accidents around National Day. HSBC have a confusing and irritating new phone banking service that depends on you using the telephone they have registered for you.

Adding to that lot, we have finally had it confirmed that, in the UAE at least, 'freehold' actually means 'usufruct'. What the hell is 'usufruct'? It's "...the legal right to use and derive profit or benefit from property that belongs to another person, as long as the property is not damaged." Seriously.

I don't know where to start...

On Your Bike

Image via WikipediaIt’s always a delight when a new radio advertisement appears that stands out in the awful sea of half-baked drivel that punctuates the stuff you actually want to listen to. My delight is only enhanced that the latest piece of drooling, witless buffoonery originates from those admirable fellows at HSBC, the bank that likes to say 'Is there anything else I can do to help you?' at the end of calls where they have been signally useless. This is just one of many endearing habits, but I shall not allow myself to be sidetracked. Back to the radio spot.

The script goes something like this:

"In Beijing a bicycle means transport, in London it means recreation while here in Dubai it means working out in the gym. We understand the world so give us your money."

For a start, as both a consumer and business customer, it’s always reassuring that one’s bank can demonstrate a clear understanding of world bicycle usage trends. There are few aspects of the global financial services market that occupy me more.

However, the fact that the insight on offer from HSBC is clearly based on mildly egregious generalisations and actually represents absolutely no insight whatsoever may be a worry to some. For instance, some Chinese people may (I know this is hard to appreciate, but bear with me here) actually use a bicycle recreationally or may even visit a gym. Londoners certainly use bicycles in the gym and many use it to get to work. This even in the city of London where you would expect people to be somewhat more advanced than those amusingly manual slanty-eyed coolies pedal pumping across the rutted tracks over in Chinkyland.

And here in Dubai, while I’m sure we’d all like to take comfort in the image of a city packed with successful young executives working out before a day of glorious triumph over world markets in their globally aware organisations, I’m afraid it doesn’t quite do justice to reality. In fact a bicycle to me rather evokes the gentleman in a grubby shalwar khamees who comes by our dumpster every day and picks out the cardboard to add to the tottering pile strapped to the back of his bike with a threadbare bungy.

But I’m cavilling, I know. It’s just an advertisement and not meant to represent the reality of the situation at all. It’s meant to increase my awareness of my bank’s global insight and the bicycle thing is just a sort of metaphor. Or to old fashioned moralists, simply a lie. What's tragic is that it's a badly told one...

Bored?

Image via WikipediaEid Mubarak!

On the way into the radio today, I was caught in the traffic surrounding the open air mosque in Northern Sharjah and watched the crowds going home from prayer - the children dressed in their finest clothes, the girls a riot of colour and gold. All really rather marvellous. It's Eid al Adha or 'long eid', the festival of sacrifice and the holiday that marks the end of the annual Hajj pilgrimage to Mecca.


With a nice five-day break in view, I thought it might be handy to revisit some of the 'things to do in the UAE' that I've posted before. Here are 21 things to do with your Eid - just in case you hadn't already made concrete plans!

Ajman Museum
The home of the ruler until 1967, Ajman Museum is situated in Ajman Fort and should be in line for an UN award for being the most charming, eclectic and generally just eccentric collection of historical artefacts and household junk in the Middle East (yes, they’re virtually indistinguishable), but it’s a fascinating insight into life in the Emirates before traffic and features some marvellous displays. For some odd reason they get funny about photography but will issue a permit if you ask ‘em nicely. It's by no means as slick or sophisticated as Dubai Museum, which is really why it’s such an appealing place. One amazing, if simple, display is the date store, showing how they used to collect the date syrup from the pressed jute sacks in runnels that led to an underfloor tank, out of which they used to ladle the syrup, straining it through a palm fibre funnel to get rid of the wasps. Other displays include the Ruler’s suite, a souk, crime and punishment (including real stocks and some graphic stuff about shooting criminals) and a medical display.

Find it by driving to Ajman and asking anyone where Ajman Fort is. They’ll lie to you, but the diversion will be fun…

Once you’ve done looking at old furniture, house displays, boats, souqs and so on, then turn right out of the museum and right again at the roundabout and you’ll find yourself, after a couple of hundred yards and a left turn off the traffic lights, in Ajman’s Iranian souk, which is well worth an evening’s wander.

Sharjah Desert Park
Originally built under the eagle eye of amateur zoologist and long term UAE resident Marijke Joengbloed (hope I got that right, did it from memory), who wrote a letter to His Highness Dr. Sheikh Sultan Al Qassmi, the ruler of Sharjah, to complain that the Bedouin were decimating the breeding grounds of the spiny tailed lizard (or Dhub, in Arabic) as it is considered an aphrodisiac (it's also edible). The good Dr. responded by suggesting they build a wildlife park and conservation centre, which they duly did. Joengbloed, a delightfully eccentric woman, took great pleasure in the fact that the larger animals are outside, while the humans are kept inside looking out at them: effectively reversing the accepted zoo visitor/animal relationship. The park and museum are fascinating, with super displays on the geology and natural history of the UAE’s desert biome as well as examples of the very rich flora and fauna of the Emirates' deserts and wadis. The stars of the show are the Arabian Leopards, who are just big, lazy, arrogant tarts.

You’ll find the park on the Sharjah/Dhaid highway.

While you’re there, try not to look at the awful thing on the other side of the road. It’s a monument to Sharjah being nominated UN culture capital or something like that.

Al Ain Oasis
Lush, verdant palm groves surround you as you walk through the pathways that twist around the plantations watered by a traditional falaj (waterway) irrigation system. It’s a delightful place to wander whatever the weather and is a photographer’s dream. When you’ve done wandering around the oasis (go to Al Ain and just ask around. You’ll get there eventually), then have a stab at visiting the museum, which is great.
Alternatively, you can visit the Umm Al Nar tomb in Hili Park (well signposted) or take a trip up the 13km or so of winding road to the top of Jebel Hafit (or Gerbil Halfwit if you have the sense of humour of a weak-minded 8 year old, as I do) and take a gander across the rolling stretches of dunes that mark the start of the Rub Al Khali desert, crossed in the 1950s by Wilfred “The boys’ wet young thighs glistened in the sun” Thesiger.

Jazirat Al Hamra
This little coastal village was totally deserted after the family, the Zaab, that predominantly inhabited it fell out with the local sheikh. They decamped to Abu Dhabi in the main, leaving the village literally deserted behind them and it remains pretty much in that state today, old coral-walled houses with henna trees in their central courtyards, wired with basic electricity and three-figure ‘phone numbers installed in the richer houses. It’s a little slice of transitional UAE and it stands today. There’s a new village of Jazirat Al Hamra just on the road, before you get to the Al Hamra Fort Hotel on the Umm Al Qawain/Ras Al Khaimah coastal road. Turn left just as you arrive at Jazirat Al Hamra and drive towards the coast and you’ll find the old village. It’s great to take a wander around and have a good old fossick: the mosque, in particular, is wonderful. The beach here is beautiful, but sadly is usually dirty with litter. After the first storm of winter, you’ll find the distinctive egg casings of the paper nautilus washed up on the beach – if you’re lucky: they’re really rare.

Do try and ignore the awful looming developments that now surround this little village.

Khasab
Something of a hidden jewel, Khasab is the small town in the Omani enclave that sits at the tip of the Emirates promontory into the Straits of Hormuz. You just need a passport with a UAE residence visa in it and a few dirhams and you can get through the border post in minutes flat (life’s potentially a bit more complicated for visitors from overseas who should, ideally, get an Omani visa processed from their country of origin. This saves any hiccups on the day, believe me.) There are two hotels in Khasab at the time of writing, the Golden Tulip which is a slightly overpriced 3* and the Khasab Hotel, which is a clean but functional caravanserai type of affair.

Why go to Khasab? For the drives around the mad, fjord-like coastline, for the drives up into the mountains that overlook the legendary heights of Wadi Bih and the fossil fields up there. And, ultimately, to hire one of the local boats (they range from speedboats to traditional dhows) and motor out into the fantastic seascapes, passing by telegraph island (in 1886 the Brits established a telegraph cable link through the Gulf that passed through Bahrain, telegraph island then out to Bombay. A couple of Brits were stationed there and apparently used to go bonkers waiting for the 6-monthly supply ship to hove to around the corner, originating the phrase ‘going round the bend’. No, I don’t really and truly believe it either, but it’s too great a story not to tell your wide-eyed visitors!). At the end of the boat trip, you can then play with the schools of dolphins that stream through the water in the boats’ wake. A great afternoon out.

Mahatta Fort Museum
 To my immense surprise, this slice of colonial history was preserved by the Sharjah Government just when it was crumbling to pieces and seemed set to be knocked down. It stands today as a great little museum to the history of flight in the region, from the Handley Page biplanes (and seaplanes) that used to connect Croydon to Queensland in the old days when a chota peg jolly well meant a chota peg.

The restoration of the fort, built originally by the ruler of Sharjah to offer protection to the passengers on the Imperial Airways route as they overnighted in Sharjah, is true to the original in every detail and is most impressive. There’s a great display of ‘planes in there, including some of the first Gulf Aviation planes (the precursor to Gulf Air) and the curators usually allow people with kids to get up in one of the riveted aluminium exhibits. Given that I occasionally have issues with trusting Airbus 321s (are you listening, Al Italia?), I can’t imagine flying in those things, really. Amaazing.

The Mahatta Fort was immortalised, incidentally, in the 1937 documentary Air Outpost by London Films under the aegis of Alexander Korda (and with a soundtrack by William Alwyn). “Thanks to the achievement of modern flight,” the soundtrack gushes in a truly Cholmondeley-Warner voice, “It’s possible to fly from Croydon to the desert Kingdom of Sharjar in just four deys!”

Imagine.

The documentary is held up as an early example of ‘true’ documentary, where the film-maker takes an unscripted approach to showing life as it truly is, which is a little dubious, but it shows not only life in the fort but Sharjah’s people and souk in a fascinating and unique piece of footage.

Mahatta is just around the corner from the ‘Blue Souk’, the Saudi Mosque, Ittihad Park and ‘Smile You’re in Sharjah’ roundabout (known to us for many years as ‘Smile You’re Insane’ roundabout). You can tell when you’re on the right road, it’s straight as a die – that’s because it is in fact the old runway. It’s the road that runs parallel to Feisal Street, going from Ittihad Park to Wahda Street, just round the corner from Mega Mall.
(Lots more on Mahatta here, BTW)
 
The Masafi Friday Market, Dafta and Bitnah
Drive from Dhaid, the inland town of Sharjah, to the mountain village of Masafi (where the water comes from) and you’ll find yourself passing through the village of Thorban as you approach the foothills. There’s an Eppco station and then, a few minutes after it, there’s a roundabout. The next turning right will lead you to the Thorban pottery – well worth a visit to see the traditional Indian kiln and the potters working away at their wheels. They export the pots from here, believe it or not!

Going on up into the mountains will take you inevitably to the Masafi Friday Market, a spontaneous growth of stalls that sprang up around the speed bumps here which sell everything from odious pots and rugs to plants and fresh fruit and vegetables from the surrounding farms. Despite the name, it’s open every day and makes for an interesting wander.

Go on up to Masafi and sling a right at the roundabout (a left will take you past the Masafi factory and then onto the delightful Indian ocean town of Dibba) and you’ll come to a village with shops either side of the road. This is Daftah. Take a left and drive up through the houses (you’ll need a little trial and error) and you’ll eventually find the track that leads up the wadi to the old deserted village of Daftah. Sadly, the great wadi here has been drained of water, but the village is worth a view.

Carry on down the road towards Fujairah through the mountains and you’ll come to the village of Bitnah. There are two things worth stopping off to see here: Bitnah Fort (drive through the village and down into the wadi bed and head right – you can’t miss it once you’re in the wadi. I’d recommend a 4WD, but a 2WD can do it if you don’t care too much about your suspension), which is an ancient looking fort (it isn’t really that old, but it’s picturesque) and the megalithic tomb. To get to the megalithic tomb, head for the base of the huge red and white telecom tower: it’s directly in line between the tower and the wadi and is protected by a fence and covered with a corrugated tin roof. You can’t get in, but this tomb is important in its way: excavated by a Swiss team in the ‘90s, it shows that the wadi from Fujeirah to Masafi was, indeed, part of a 3000 year old trade route and is one of the oldest burial sites in the UAE. It is, sadly, neglected.

Hatta
Hatta is to Dubai what Dhaid is to Sharjah (and Al Ain to Abu Dhabi): the inland oasis town that the semi-nomadic peoples of the UAE (Trucial States then, but that’s another story) used to escape to in the hot summer months. In Hatta’s case, it’s super-cool, high up in the Hajar mountains and always relatively fresh and lush compared to the arid desert plains. Hatta’s marvellous track, which led from the mountain town across the range and down to Al Ain, has sadly been turned into black-top, but it is still a fantastic drive and you can still strike out to the pools and side wadis.

Hatta also has an interesting Heritage Centre, which is well worth a visit, with displays of old mountain housing and the like. On holidays and high days they put on displays of dancing and stuff like that.

The Hatta Fort Hotel is well worth an overnight stay. A tiny, delightful and extraordinarily well-run hotel (kept by 19 staff – you’ll find the day’s pool attendant is the evening’s sommelier), the Hatta Fort’s food is great when they’re on their best classical fine dining form, but I wouldn’t go mad for the buffet nights. It serves the best breakfast in the Middle East.

Do ask them to knock you up a curry if you eat in the restaurant: it’s a great undiscovered wonder. And do have a drink in the unintentionally uber-funky walnut and gold ‘70s Romoul Bar upstairs from the restaurant (mourn the passing of the old cream leather sofas while you’re there). Sadly, they’ve started to renovate the hotel for some reason all of their own and the rooms have been overhauled with tacky gold-sprayed tin dog ornaments and faux leapordskin wraps stapled to the furniture, but just because that spoilt it for us doesn’t mean it has to for you!

Dibba and Wadi Bih
Dibba is a sleepy town on the Indian Ocean coast which belies a bloody past: it was here that the final great battle for the consolidation of Islam on the Gulf peninsula was fought. Get there by leaving Sharjah on the airport road towards Dhaid, and driving through to Masafi, then turning left at the Masafi roundabout.
Turn right at the dolphin roundabout in Dibba and you’ll be on the way down the East Coast road, through Khor Fakkan and down to Fujeirah. You’ll also pass the Hotel JAL Resort and Spa just as you leave town, a new development by the Japanese airline. It’s worth a stay: we went when it was soft launching and they had some teething troubles, but it seemed to have great promise and very good service indeed.

But turn left at Dolphin roundabout and you’ll be set for a trip up into the mountains. Sadly, I haven’t got space to give you infallible instructions, but find someone (or an offroad book) that will give you directions to
Wadi Bih and take a drive up the most awesome wadi track in the Emirates, curling far up into the hills at the top of the Hajar mountain range. The geology alone, the mad folding rock formations and misty valley vistas, is worth the trip – and includes a drive through the largest area of denuded, uplifted seabed in the world. So there. They’re building a spa hotel by the village of Ziggi so by the time you read this they’ve probably asphalted half the track, but go anyway.

You will almost certainly get turned back at the UAE/Omani border post towards the end of the track (give yourself a good hour to drive it), but if not you come out in Ras Al Khaimah.

The Souk Al Arsah
 The Sharjah government started to renovate the Souk Al Arsah in the ‘90s, turning an area of broken down old coral-walled buildings into a dramatic and pretty faithful reproduction of the original Sharjah souk. Delightfully, they then let the shop units to the families that had originally owned them although many of these have now been leased out to Indian shop-owners. Some have remained as locally owned and run bric-a-brac (sorry, ‘antique’) shops and are fascinating visits. I cannot recommend a wander around this souk highly enough. Many of the old trading family houses around the souk have also been restored and are open to visit and there’s a maritime display put together by the heritage association, too, reflecting some of Sharjah’s history as a pearl diving centre. When you’ve done wandering, wander over to the Sharjah Fort, again a huge renovation project (there was only one round tower left of the original fort) that has resulted in an interesting building: although it could be a richer display than it is currently, it’s still well worth a trip to see.

The Gold Souks
This is a bit of a 'two for one', as I’ve actually got two gold souks in mind. Dubai Gold Souk is inside the bit of Deira by the mouth of the creek, halfway between HSBC in Dubai and the Grand Hyatt in Deira. You can park up anywhere in that area and just walk inside and you’ll get to it: an alternative is to take an abra across to the spice souk abra station from Bastakia, which is always fun. If you do it in the evening, take a turn up the dhow wharfage, too and have a shufti at the amazing mixture of cargoes, boats and crews. Sitting watching life go by and biting into the piping hot, spicy pakoras from the tea shops on the creekside at sunset was an old pleasure from travelling out here in the ‘80s…

Sharjah Gold Souk, the Souk Al Markazi or Blue Souk, is to be found at the edge of the Buheira Lagoon and sits at the end of King Feisal Street as it joins Al Aroubah Street, near to the fish market, the Saudi mosque and Al Ittihad Square. Any cabbie should know at least one of those! A major piece of contemporary Islamic architecture, the Blue Souq is nestled snugly by the insanely optimistic ‘Smile, You’re In Sharjah’ roundabout, so called because it contains that very injunction picked out lovingly, by insane people, in flowers. In fact, we have long referred to this as ‘Smile, you’re insane’ roundabout.

You’ll likely get better shopping out of the Sharjah souk, although the Dubai one is more extensive. The Sharjah one has the added advantage of an ‘antique souk’ on the first floor, although the chances of finding a true antique there are about as remote as those of finding a talking fish. Bargain like your life depended on it: the stallholders are as venial a collection of bashi-bazouks as you’re likely to find in your life.

Sheikh Saeed’s House
Sheikh Saeed Al Maktoum was Sheikh Rashid’s father (Sheikh Rashid, arguably the founder of ‘modern’ Dubai and a truly visionary man) and therefore is Sheikh Mohammad’s grandfather. His house has now been restored from its former crumbling state, years of neglect having reduced it in parts almost to rubble. The house itself is a fantastic place to take a wander in the daytime and is also home to a delightful collection of early photography of Dubai as well as a collection of coins and other bits and bobs. It’s well worth the visit and costs pennies to get into. The area around has also been restored as a cultural centre and you can easily give an afternoon wandering around. If you want to hang around for the early evening, you can sit by the creekside, drink mint tea and smoke shisha at Kan Zaman as you watch the dhows and pleasure boats, abras and seagulls whizzing around the busy waterway.

Another option is to accede to the clamorous abra drivers who park up by Sheikh Saeed’s house and accept a tour up and down the creek. Don’t pay ‘em more than Dhs 60, they’re robbers, but do take the tour: it’s great fun and they’ll drop you off at the Spice Souk abra station so you can wander the dhow wharfage at sunset or go into the Gold Souk. Neat, huh?

Another hint: if you’re going to be in this area with guests, start the afternoon off with lunch at the Grand Hyatt’s Al Dawar revolving restaurant, known to us both (unfairly, the food's excellent) for many years as the ‘revolting restaurant’. The food’s really good and you get to do an aerial tour of Dubai as you eat and gently revolve 360 degrees in an hour.

You can get to Sheikh Saeed’s house, which is in Shindaga, by driving towards Shindaga tunnel from Bur Dubai and then slinging a right before you get to the tunnel and just after you pass Carrefour or the Al Bustan Flour mill to your right. Or ask a cab to take you to the fruit souk in Bur Dubai and then go left at the lights beyond the fruit souk towards the main souk area.

Bastakia
Established by Iranian traders under British protection in the C19th, Bastakia’s wind towered adobe houses have been restored and are a delight to wander around: particularly as a few have been given over to cafes and art shops. A short walk along the creekside towards Shindaga will take you past the Amiri diwan to Dubai fort, which is a small, but good, museum.

The wind tower, incidentally, so much a symbol of the UAE is an Iranian innovation brought over to the UAE and can best be seen at Ajman Fort Museum, where a working, original wind tower stands. It’s amazingly efficient.

Geeky fact: one of the reasons these houses and forts are made of coral is that they allow air to pass through: in the summer, water was poured on the roof and the family would then sleep under the stars as the evaporation gently cooled them.

Dubai Museum
What a link! Dubai Museum, located at the old Al Fahidi fort in Bur Dubai, sits next to the Amiri Diwan. You get to it by driving down the creekside past the British Consulate (or Saudi Embassy, depending on how you like your directions) or, alternatively, by passing Bur Juman to your left going down bank street and then turning right at the lights. Or take a cab.

The Museum’s small but pretty much perfectly formed: the entrance leads quickly into a courtyard with rooms off it showing video clips and barasti (palm frond) houses showing how people lived in Dubai right up until the 1970s. Then you’re on the way downstairs, past a strangely stuffed and suspended seabird and a wee model of the old settlement of Dubai and into the highly impressive video show of Dubai’s history. From there, it’s a journey through town and desert and then into a display of artefacts from Dubai’s archaeological past and then, almost before you know it, you’re blinking in the sunlight again. If you’ve lived here more than six months and haven’t been, then shame upon you.

Liwa
Finding Liwa’s a doddle: go towards Abu Dhabi and then drive south – you can use the truck road or the ‘regular’ road – and you’ll need a reasonable road map. If you’re going to do Liwa, there are only two sensible options: the Liwa Hotel or camping. If you’re intending to drive on the dunes you’ll need friends, sand shovels, water, tow-ropes and the million other things that serious off-roading demands. I’d buy a copy of the Explorer offroad book – it’s the best of them. The Liwa Hotel is old, dowdy and really rather wonderful - but the food's nothing to write home about. A night's camping followed by a hot shower at the hotel is popular.

One attraction on the way down is the Emirates National Auto Musuem, the private collection of cars assembled by Sheikh Hamad bin Hamdan al Nahyan. The watchman usually lets people in, so don’t be deterred if it looks closed!

So why bother with Liwa? Well, the Liwa Crescent is true, deep desert. The dunes roll out as far as the eye can see, stunning piles of golden, reddish sand that can peak at 200 feet. It’s camel country, herds roam across the sands and the people out here are still close to the land, even if they do tend towards the Landcruiser lifestyle a little more than when Wilf ‘watery boys’ Thesiger used to wander around these parts.

The solitude out there is absolute, the tranquillity of the desert is a delight and at night-time, the deep desert clear skies and glistening stars stretched out above you, totally free of light pollution. There’s nothing like it! If you can, wander over to take a look at the Moreeb Dune, a huge dune that is regularly decorated with madmen racing hyper-powered dune buggies up its steep, massive slopes.

Wadi Warraya
Wadi Warraya is easy to get to these days, signposted off the Dibba-Khor Fakkan road (or, if you’re going the other way, the Khor Fakkan-Dibba road) and reachable by blacktop road. It used to be an 18km wadi drive from the main road and was by far better off for it, too.

It’s the only guaranteed year-round waterfall in the Emirates and is, sadly, covered in graffiti and often filled with rubbish: the inevitable consequence of the road being built up to it. On one occasion we visited to find a gentleman had pitched his tent and installed a generator to drive the lightbulb on a stick he’d placed in front of it. The noise was awful.

Be careful about letting kids splash in the rock pools at Warrayah: there’s often a hidden payload of smashed glass in there. Climb up, though, and bathe in the bowl at the top of the waterfall, where a natural ‘Jacuzzi’ has formed: it’s really nice up there and the whole area’s great for a wander along the wadis and even a picnic!

Fujeirah Fort & Museum
The East Coast makes for a great day out: strike out early and aim for Masafi (the Dhaid, or airport, road out of Sharjah or the 611 out of Dubai should do, slinging a right at the Sajja turnoff – you could also drive towards Hatta and turn left at the Madham roundabout to get to Dhaid but that’s a long haul. Turn left at Masafi to get to Dibba, then right to pass by the JAL Hotel, the Al Aqha Meridien and then the Sandy Beach – an overnight at any one of these hotels would make the day out a neat weekend break. Drive down the coast towards Khor Fakkan, stop at the Bidya Mosque (the wee meringue-shaped white thing on the right under the lookout tower on the hill) for a peek on the way to Sharjah’s Indian Ocean resort town. Bidya is thought to date back to the C15th, which would take it back to the fall of Byzantium – although there is more ancient history on this coast with Dibba the scene of the battle that finally established Islam as the religion of the entire Gulf (and the burial place of 10,000 warriors today) and Bitnah home to a megalithic (that’s 3,000 years old to you, mate) grave site on the ancient trade route that used to snake up the wadi linking Fujeirah to Masafi.

Wadi Warayah is a right hand just before you get to Khor Fakkan (so is Wadi Shis, but that’s another story for another day)

The Oceanic Hotel at Khor Fakkan used to be nice, but we haven’t stayed there in over 20 years, so don't take this as an up-to-date recommendation! When you leave Khor Fakkan, you’ll head inland for a bit before rejoining the coast and then you’ll find yourself entering Fujeirah itself.

Carry on along the coastal road until you see the Hilton on your left. There’s a large coffee pot on the roundabout (most roundabouts in Fujeirah are monumental, in fact many are monumentally dysfunctional): sling a right here and you can’t miss the Fujeirah Museum as well as the slightly drab ‘cultural and heritage centre’. The Museum’s nice and worth dropping by for, but not worth the trip to see specifically. If that makes any sense. It’s a short walk or a hop in the car from here to the restored Fujeirah Fort, which is well worth a wander round – particularly if you remember the awful ruin on a hillock that stood there washing away into the ground with every winter rains.

Now you can drive down the coast some more to reach Khor Kalba or drive inland to Masafi and perhaps visit Bitnah or Daftah on the way up. The drive’s amazing, particularly at sunset, when the craggy peaks to your left are silhouetted rather wonderfully.

Khor Kalba
If you decided to drive down to Kalba rather than go up to Masafi, you’re in for a treat: Kalba’s got a nice restored fort (it used to be an Emirate in its own right and an important one, as the backup airstrip for Imperial Airways’ airport at Sharjah was in Kalba), which used to be nothing more, literally, than a depression in the ground. It’s also got a neat seaside which extends out into an extensive mangrove swamp. Conservationists will get irritated here: Kalba’s something of a mess and really could do with more environmental protection measures and perhaps something nice like a visitor centre, but for now it’s open to all and the rubbish tells its own tale. The mangroves are fantastic, buzzing with life includling blue-shelled crabs. On the beach, local fishermen bring up dragnets using ancient, battered Toyota Landcruisers, a massive frothing load of fish the eventual result and then, tragically, a beach scattered with the corpses of sand sharks: edible but not liked by the locals and so of no value to them. They can’t be put back, apparently, as they inevitably die once they’ve been pulled up in the nets and have breathed air.

Go back on the mountain road to Sharjah and get a real treat of a drive scenically – including the mad tunnel through the mountain – and you’ll eventually end up at the infamous National Paints Roundabout on the Emirates Road!

Al Maha
Scrimp and save if you have to. Use your Skywards Miles. Sell a child. A kidney. But just do it.
A club class upgrade to Heathrow = 50,000 miles. A 24-hour summer blissout with food on demand and a luxurious desert chalet with a private pool = 50,000 miles. It’s a no-brainer, surely!

Emirates’ Al Maha Desert Resort is getting arguably a teensy weensy bit old and drab and could do with a minor spruce up. (Oi! I didn’t say change it - Starwood hotels is managing the place as of November 1st so expect some changes - any updates gratefully received!) But it’s still Dubai’s most interesting hotel and without doubt stands as the premium resort hotel in the Northern Emirates, no competition. You call ahead when you’re on the Al Ain road (route 66) and there’s a guide waiting to pick you up as you arrive at the holding area (you can’t take your own car in). It’s a quick ride through the dunes on black top to the hotel, passing through the enormous game reserve (something like a third of Dubai’s land area). Once you’re there, ladies in kandouras ply you with towels and fruit cocktails as you’re checked in then it’s a golf cart to your chalet which will feature a massive bath for two, a nice fresh coffee maker, a decanter of sherry (very civilised at sunset on the decking), two chaise longues and a decked area out back graced with its own swimming pool for two. Oh, I should mention it’s definitely not a child friendly place. Yaaayyyy!!!

Room service is included as is any meal you take in the restaurant, so it’s much lounging around followed perhaps by a glass of pop on the dunes after a camel ride or a quick safari with your guide, then freshen up before a drink overlooking the waterhole and dinner in the restaurant: it’s a set menu, but the chef will accommodate pretty much any request, including a Sri-Lankan curry for two if you’re really, really nice to him and give him some notice. It’s a curry to die for, too.

If you’re up to it, there’s falconry in the morning. We’ve never managed the 5.30am wakeup. You’re more likely to find us lolling around in the extensive, excellent (and a tad expensive, but in for a penny...) spa. Incidentally, once you’re checked out, there’s no hurry to get rid of you – the staff always make it a point to ask if you’d like to stay for lunch. Which is a nice touch.

And so, 24 hours after you called from the Al Ain road, you’ll be blissed out, relaxed and filled with strong feelings of love towards your fellow men. I’m not saying the feeling will last, I’m saying this is how to get there…

Doing Da Dune Buggies
Head up the Awir Road to Hatta and a few kilometres past the roundabout and police post of Lahbab you'll see a large dune to your left - the infamous 'Big Red'. Any Friday (or any day during Eid) will see this dune covered in mad locals racing around in their 4WDs, occasionally joined by the odd brave expat. Either side of the road here is dotted with joints that hire out dune buggies. It's great fun but do please wear gym gloves (you know, the 'Steptoe' style ones with no fingers) if you want to avoid getting a wicked blister at the base of your thumb where your sweaty hand grips the throttle. If you don't wake up the next day feeling like you went 5 rounds with Mike Tyson the night before, you didn't do it right.

So there you are - an all-in-one guide to 21 wonderful things to do during Eid or when you next have relatives out to stay and want to get out of the house before you kill someone.

Rotten Bankers

Image via Wikipedia
I'm being predictable, I know, but there's no way on earth I'd let the news that customers are unhappy with their banks pass me by without comment.

A poll by YouGov, full details on Zawya here, has found that 20% of people are highly upset with their bank, while fully 50% of consumers would not recommend their bank to a friend. 42% cite the main reason for their dissatisfaction is the lack of priority banks give to customer service. Some 40% of people have cancelled a credit card.

I am shocked, people, deeply shocked.

Why aren't the figures higher? Nobody I know who lives in the UAE is happy with their bank. Nobody has ever been able to recommend their bank to me. The one time I bit the bullet and tried to flee ever having to deal with the hapless goons at my bank, Lloyds Jumeirah failed to open our account without a litany of stupid mistakes that finally had us giving up and sticking with the devil we, sadly, know all too well.

Actually, one reason why the figures may not be as high as I thought is that between them, the 'most used banks' are Dubai Islamic Bank and HSBC - and between them, they account for only 21% of respondents to the survey.

I'm saying nothing about DIB, you understand...

Nosy Parker

Image by José Antonio Galloso via Flickr
It was Sarah who found the list of benefits that came with our credit card. I had never really bothered, particularly given my policy of having as little to do with our bank as possible on the grounds that it's invariably bad for my health.

So when she announced that we could use our credit card to valet park for free in many of the city's shopping malls, I was not only surprised but delighted. We were to go to Mirdif City Centre in any case and so I could look forward to trying out this New Thing and 'availing my benefit'.

You might think I approached this with malign glee and the prospect of a snarky blog post in mind and if so you can award yourself a pat on the back and a banana daquiri because that's precisely what I was thinking. I could see it in my mind's eye - the uncomprehending, cow-like stare and the nervous laugh, the appalling delay while someone was telephoned to see if this was, in fact, the case. The sardonic laughter of the man who's not falling for some Brit's lame attempt to save twenty chips by trying to scam his way in.

When the man from ubiquitous valet parking company Valtrans looked at my proffered card, smiled and said, "Of course, sir!" I was flummoxed, flabbergasted and probably a little bamboozled as well. It worked like a dream and generally did what it said on the box.

So now I've got a new scheme in mind. I'm going to valet park everywhere. HSBC's paying for this and I'm going to bankrupt the bastards, Dhs20 at a time.

Is It Any Wonder People Have It In For Bankers?

Image by TW Collins via Flickr

The scene. A shop. Quite a noisy sports goods shop playing pump it up let’s get this fitness ting movin’ music. Sarah is trying to get me to make the decision between the black trainers with the black stripe and the black trainers with the pink stripe for her. The mobile rings.


“Hello, Alexander McNabb.”

“Hello?”

“Hello!”

“Hello.”

“What do you want?”

“Is this Alexander McNabb?”

“Yes, it is.”

“This is HSBC customer service.”

“And?”

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

“I’m calling regarding the issue you had with a transfer. You raised a customer support issue with Internet banking.”

“Right...”

“I need to ask you some security questions.”

“Okay.”

“What accounts do you hold with us?”
(told her, not telling you. Not that I don’t trust y’all, ye understand)

“What is your current balance?”

“I have not got the faintest idea. Not a clue.”

“Well, what was the last transaction on your account?”

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you.”

*desperately* “What is your date of birth?”

“Fried eggs and ham.”

“Thank you. You had an issue with Internet banking. I’m just calling to help you.”

“What issue? I don’t remember an issue? When?”

“About ten days ago. You had an issue with IBAN numbers.”

“Oh, Lord, yes! I remember now! You require an IBAN number on transfers to the UK but there’s no field specifying that you need an IBAN number on the online form.”

“We now require an IBAN number on transfers to the UK. You can insert this in the ‘comments’ field in the online transfer form.”

“I know that now. I had to call your call centre to find out and then I asked the call centre person to escalate the fact that there’s not actually a field in the form that requests an IBAN number. That was my problem, you see? If you require a critical piece of information to complete a process, you actually need to ask people to insert that information in an appropriate field, marked, for instance, ‘IBAN NUMBER:’.”

“Yes. You have to put it in the comments box on the form.”

“But that’s my issue! How am I supposed to know that I need to put the IBAN number in at all? By osmosis? By a process of miraculous information transfer? Holes opening in the space-time continuum? How simple is it to put a field on the form that says: IBAN NUMBER:?”

“I apologise, but that is not possible at this time.”

“Oh come on! Of course it’s possible! A badly trained macaque of below average capability could add a field to an HTML page in less than ten minutes. Instead, they got you – a call centre operative with about as much chance of influencing any policy decision regarding your bank’s woeful inability to make its systems even marginally fit for purpose as I have of winning the UK national lottery – to call me and say sorry but it’s broken and we’re not going to fix it.”

“I do apologise. I can put a request to escalate this with Internet banking.”

“They pushed the whole issue down to you! Are you going to escalate it to them so that they can push it back down to you so that you can call me to tell me you’re sorry that the issue about the issue regarding the problem I had is still an issue?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Let’s face it, you have absolutely no ability to escalate any issue whatsoever, do you? All you’re going to do is repeat sorry until I stop shouting, aren’t you?”

“Sorry.”

“Why don’t we end the call right here? I don’t have to be rude to you and you don’t have to listen to a rude and angry customer and we can both get on with our lives without the irritation and frustration of this call and your Internet banking form will continue to lack a simple input field requesting information that is crucial to the process in question.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Geekiness Beirut Outbreak

GeekFest Beirut was truly a wonder to behold. There are photos on the FaceBook page from those what got Twitpicked on the night, and this Photobucket from Fady Nammour gives a pretty good feel for the ‘vibe’ – at a guess something like 120 people streamed into Beirut’s uber-funky Art Lounge to find displays of digital photography as well as the art that literally festoons every space at ArtLounge.

There were loads more GeekTalks, starting with an odd rant from yours truly, going through to an overview of Creative Commons licensing from graphic artist Naeema Zarif (Naeema designed the cool new GeekFest logo, posters and stuff) and cartoonist/blogger Maya Zankoul and then a look at some of the projects being undertaken in Lebanon by the UNDP’s CEDRO, thanks to Elie Abou Jaoudeh.

Ayman Itani spoke on the human/technology aspects of communications, while Elie Haddad’s talk on the potential of mobile applications continued the telecom theme. George El KHabbaz threw a few F’UX into proceedings with his GeekTalk on user experience (that’s what an UX is, folks) and how it needs to be designed in from the beginning of processes (Ha! Tell HSBC that).

Isaac Belot topped the geek charts easily with his in-depth and totally geeked-out presentation of the technologies that lie behind filming in 3D. That one even had the true geeks bug-eyed.

The evening finished with a short, boisterous and totally fun presentation from artiste extraordinaire (and designer of the GeekFest Twitter Icon and, I hope, T-shirts) Joumana Medlej (@CedarSeed). Joumana’s work is stunning, her cartoon strips are brilliant and the auction of a book of her early drawings and development sketches pulled in a fast and furious bidding war to top out at $300 – even the barman got into the act. Yes, there was a bar too and it did a brisk trade at that.

So what was the ‘vibe’ like? Different to GeekFest Dubai, for sure – and I can’t quite put my finger on how it was different. The Beirut guys did a lot more collaboration on many aspects of the event and so there was a wider sense of ownership. There’s no doubt that they’ve had an impact on GeekFest Dubai, particularly with the contribution of the graphic art elements, the ID design from Naeema and Joumana’s iconography.

It looks increasingly likely that there will be other GeekFest events springing up around the region now. And I think that’s possibly going to be very interesting in a number of ways that we haven’t really thought through yet!

Cheque this out...

Image via Wikipedia

The new chequebook requirement is not just on the part of HSBC, as my landlord’s man thought happily last night when I passed over my rent in cash to him. He was shocked to hear me tell him that every bank in the UAE is likely to start rejecting ‘old’ cheques and he had no idea at all how to tell the difference between ‘old’ and ‘new’ cheques. He is holding several ‘old’ cheques as PDCs preparatory to depositing them when the rents on other properties come due – I wonder how many other landlords are in a similar position.

In my humble opinion, this whole sorry episode is a case study in totally inadequate communications, a demonstration of breathtaking arrogance from banks and a clear sign that the UAE’s banks have a huge leap forward to make in customer service and communication. I might be overdoing it, but I doubt it: this is what I do for a living – communications. I might be useless at it, I might not. But I have never seen it so badly mismanaged in my life – and I have been working in the Middle East for over twenty years now.

All UAE banks have to upgrade their cheques to conform to new guidelines mandated by the UAE Central Bank and so there is a very real danger that the vast majority of cheques held by people out there are now duds. And that the majority of cheque books out there are useless.
The UAE is a society where a cheque was previously regarded as ‘as good as cash’ because of the Central Bank’s ‘two strikes and you’re out’ policy. In the UAE, if you bounce a cheque, the person you have issued the cheque to can call the police and file a case against you and if you bounce a cheque twice, the Central Bank can (and, I hear, will) withdraw your access to banking services.

This has been an amazing deterrent to any form of ‘bad cheque’ and, in fact, there are no cheque guarantee cards here. A cheque is a man’s word and bond and respected as such.

The new guidelines from the Central Bank have been triggered by the introduction of a new automated clearing system, ICCS. This demands banks take extra precautions before scanning cheques and sending them to the Central Bank for clearing, hence the mandated ‘more secure’ cheque books.

HSBC and other banks started to refuse cheques without the new features on the 1st January 2010. I have no record of HSBC contacting me to advise me of this – I did, incidentally, search through the 33 junk and phishing emails that purported to come from HSBC that I have received since November last year, but they are all fakes. HSBC has not responded to my post yesterday asserting that the bank had not effectively communicated the vitally important new changes to me.

There is some confusion regarding PDCs. According to Mashreq’s FAQ:
Retail and corporate customers may have already collected cheques which do not comply with cheque security features prior to this deadline. In view of this, collecting banks will accept such deposits and process them as usual in ICCS till 31/07/2010. Any PDCs dated beyond 31/07/2010 must be lodged with Banks before 31/12/2009 for collection on the due date.

But HSBC’s FAQ is a little more clear (my bold):
Post dated cheques without the security features, which have been collected by customers prior to 31 December 2009, can be accepted until 31 July 2010. After this date no cheque without the security feature will be accepted.

Post dated cheques and discounted cheques deposited in advance without the security feature and already held by banks for any date will not be affected by this rule; however HSBC will not accept any new cheques without the security features post 01 January 2010.

In other words, PDCs will only be honoured if the bank already held them prior to 31/12/2009 – think about it, a cheque dated now and lodged now is just a ‘new cheque without the security features’, no?

I haven’t seen any news stories or advertisements about this massive change to the banking system. If other banks have contacted their customers, well and good – but nobody I have spoken to has been aware of this whole issue at all. I should point out that some people commenting to the last post I put up on this issue do say they were made aware – although some said they received emails as late as 28/12/2009.

By the way – as far as I can see, the ICCS rollout from the Central Bank has been done with remarkable care and some two years of trials, dry runs and suchlike. I remain amazed that two years down the line, banks seem singularly unprepared to meet the challenges of the rollout.

There has been no concerted awareness campaign on the part of the banks to ensure that customers know about this issue. I can gather evidence of, at best, cursory and almost derisory attempts at communicating what’s going on (mounting a FAQ on your website is not communicating with your public). And that strikes me as verging on insane – let alone highly insecure – given that this move potentially invalidates every cheque in the UAE that does not conform to a new standard that most people are unaware of.

So what does this all mean? Try this lot:

• PDCs held by landlords in the UAE that have not yet been lodged or discounted with a bank are likely not to be honoured by banks. They are potentially worthless documents as of 1/1/2010.
  

• Anybody issuing a cheque using the old style cheque book is potentially defrauding the person they are presenting the cheque to. And anyone accepting such a cheque (do you know what the new ones look like? HmmMMM?) is likely to have it bounced by the bank.
  

• Any payments, for instance mortgage payments, car loans or PDCs issued by businesses against scheduled payments, may well (probably will) bounce.
  

• Anyone who doesn’t know the difference between the ‘new’ cheques and the ‘old’ cheques issued by every UAE bank is in danger of accepting a dud cheque.
  

• The criminally minded punter can now have a field day – imagine selling someone some ACs, a fridge or suchlike. By the time the cheque has gone ‘thud’, what are the chances you’ll be able to find yer man? Yeah, zero.
  

• Cheques in the UAE are no longer as good as cash. They’re as good as junk until someone gets their finger out and clearly communicates what the hell is going on here. And that means, collectively, the banks that have so far stayed resolutely silent need to start taking responsibility.
  

Incidentally, the cheque that HSBC bounced on my landlord (a cheque for tens of thousands of Dirhams returned without even making a call to me, of course) came back marked as 'Irregular Signature'.

Cheque Book Fraud

Image by Getty Images via Daylife

I suppose I should be angry that HSBC failed to communicate the changes in cheque book requirements with me, but I’m not – merely resigned. I had to find out about it from someone on Twitter in the end.

I should equally, I’m sure, be angry that the bank dishonoured a post dated cheque I had previously given to my landlord, doing so, as usual, without attempting to contact and inform me. But I’m not. I’m just resigned to the lack of communication or basic care for the customer.

The UAE’s central bank has made changes to the way it handles cheques and has therefore made it a requirement that cheques should have an additional level of security, including a tamper-evident watermark. These have been added to new cheque books and banks are no longer accepting cheques made out using old style cheque books.

What amazes me is that a bank could actually contemplate making such a move without any attempt to communicate this effectively to its customers. I consider myself to be unusually contactable – I am quite an online person and you can get in touch with me by telephone, mobile, SMS, fax, email, Twitter or Facebook. You could even leave a comment on the blog. In fact, HSBC has frequently contacted me using SMS, typically to let me know about a discount I can avail at Joy Alukkas Jewellery when I use my HSBC card. Strange they didn’t think of using the same medium, or in fact any medium of communication, to let me know they were about to dishonour my cheque.

But I’m not angry about that. Just resigned.

They could even have bothered to write to me. To enclose a new cheque book, for instance, or at least a letter explaining what was happening and how it would affect me. They could have put a mandatory screen up on the Internet banking system that would have made me click on ‘NO I don’t want the new cheque book’ or ‘YES please send me a new cheque book now in plenty of time before the changes take place.’ That wouldn’t have cost them a penny but would have avoided my landlord getting a bounced cheque. They could even have sent an email using their woeful little Internet banking messaging system, but records show no such communication since November which is as far as records go back.

Given that I am a busy little bee with plenty more important things to do than muck about with this stuff, they could have used several routes to get through to me and let me know I had to act and that there would be consequences attendant on my inaction. They could have written to me, put a screen on Internet Banking AND sent me a letter, SMSed me and emailed me/messaged me via their Internet Banking service. All of them. Just to make sure I knew what was happening. They did none of them. Not one.

It’s not a time thing, either. HSBC has had plenty of time to inform customers of the changes and prepare them for the new system. The first phase of testing ICCS, which appears to have been a thoroughly well managed rollout by the Central Bank, took place in July 2006. HSBC has known for over two years that the new system was to be implemented and therefore has had two years to prepare its customers for the new security requirements. As the global local bank, it would have had experience from other markets of earlier implementations of Image based clearing, surely?

In fact, the whole thing has been a world class shambles, managed with the usual complete disregard for the customer and leveraging the communication skills of a deep frozen wombat.

But what makes me angry, because yes, I am angry, is that my landlord is a decent man but a very sick one and he didn’t need to have to deal with a bounced cheque. That cheque was written and issued in good faith, drawn on the bank account that I am paying the bank to manage on my behalf and returned without any reference whatsoever to the account holder. What’s more, the cheque was written on the cheque book issued to me for that very purpose by the bank – the very same bank that had previously taken to bouncing my cheques because it claimed my signature had changed (it hasn’t). The very same bank that I visited personally in August last year to sort out that whole sorry mess and who did not even think to let me know then and there that I would need a new cheque book. Although they must, at that time, have known that these changes were taking place as they'd been working on them for fully two years since full trials of the new system had taken place.

The bank has at no time communicated to me the requirement for a new cheque book or that it was going to start unilaterally dishonouring my issued cheques for reasons that were completely unknown to me.

Bankers.

Language

Image by jovike via Flickr

Language is a funny thing: when you're writing, sometimes you have to stop in mid-flow and cast about for the right tword, the mot juste. Sometimes your choice of word can be telling - and make the difference between how things appear. Sometimes a word can give away what you're really thinking and not what you'd like to project - what you'd like people to think you're thinking.

There are two words that are part of my everyday life that I believe are telling in this way. They're used by my bank, HSBC. No doubt selected thoughtlessly and dashed down in seconds as a tiny part of the greater job of building a sprawling empire of flawless customer service, they do rather give the game away.

When I use telephone banking, a service that I truly appreciate as it has meant I have had to make only infrequent visits to the branch and therefore have been largely able to avoid interacting with the drooling, slack-jawed incompetents that infest the place, I frequently make transfers between accounts. When this process is successful (which is quite frequently, as no member of the bank's staff has the chance to insert themselves between me and the computer), I get the message 'Your request has been processed.'

This is a screech to a stop moment for me every time. It's my money and you're providing a service to me in return for which I pay you. So it's not a request really, is it? It's an instruction. I am instructing you to do something, not begging a favour. I'm wearing the big boots, I'm the customer and it's a bloody instruction to you regarding the arrangement of my assets.

When I use an ATM to take money from my account (again a process that is frequently successful for precisely the same reason that telephone banking works - its totally automated and as long as you don't want to do anything in any way slightly unusual or intuitive, you're onto a winner) and the ATM confirms that I'm about to get my money, it tells me 'Your withdrawal has been accepted'.

Again, I apply the old locked brakes here. Accepted? Like an officious dame ticking a box to confirm that I don't have any threateningly anti-social tendencies and can, indeed, use the swimming pool, my bank is accepting my request to take some of money out of my account. And here was me thinking that my instruction was being processed.

I'm the punter, not a beggar in front of a mosque. Those two little weasel words are a constant reminder to me that HSBC's view of our relationship is somewhat different. To paraphrase the bank's intensely annoying UK advertising campaign:

Customer Beggar Beggar Customer

Ve Middul Eeste Pee Aar Awordes

Beavis and Butt-Head via last.fm

There's something slightly worrying about a room filled with over 500 PRs. It's a happy zone, tides of positivity washing against the walls.

The 'practitioners' are all chatting away happily, a tumultuous babble, but I'm sitting at a table of journalists, the usual criminals of the Middle East's marketing media waiting for someone to fall so they can eviscerate them, their jaws slavering at the very thought and evil grins stretched across their drink-sodden faces.

The MC is shouty, trying to get people to stop talking. You'd have thought that 500 people talking together and sharing experience, best practice and all that was what MEPRA was all about, but apparently not. She's screaming STOP TALKING YA YA YA at us and slowly people get the message.

We're good at crafting and communicating messages, but getting them is not quite our forté, apparently. Ya ya ya.

American people shouting at me reminded me, for some reason, of watching the news on CNN...

The MC and various types gathered on the stage to pass over awards to a bunch of PRs. Some bloke from HSBC made some lacklustre (well, he'd hardly sparkle, would he?) jokes about the collective noun for PR people - a flock of flaks, apparently.

Any contributions in the comments about the collective noun for HSBC employees would be appreciated. I though perhaps a dribble of d... well, never mind. Yayaya.

By now, the press are restive. The jerks of drumroll tape that occasionally peppered events was starting to get its reward, bursts of malign laughter from the hock of hacks around me. I've heard that type of laughter before, at a performance of Othello at The National - Felicity ("Felicity, Felicity, you fill me with electricity", according to Ade Edmonson at his loquacious finest) Kendal as Desdemona bursting satisfactorily out of a Nell Gwynne dress while Paul Scofield hammed it up so badly that Othello's soliloqy to his dead lover drew gales of the stuff from the audience.

This was nasty laughter, the laughter of the cut-purse about to make his move as he stalks the dark, wet streets of Elizabethan London.

The worst of them is Allison, his faux-genteel Edinburgh accent masking his guttersnipe urges, egged on by AdNation's vile Elliot ('the Bear') Beer, the two of them cackling like Beavis and Butthead as they scan the audience of hapless wannabe winners for victims. And then Allison's off, leaving his voice recorder on the table behind him so that it can pick up any snippets of gossip about him while he's absent. He's ducking and diving in the crowd, picking up quotes and snippets of snark, digging for dirt like a pig rooting out Perigord truffles, while the MC says 'ya ya ya' for the umpteenth time. I think she believes it makes her sound Arab, but it comes across as somehow more Maureen Lipman.

It's all too much. I clap maniacally for Peyman Parham as he picks up the final gong, 'Communicator of the Year', with a genuine feeling of enormous relief - Sarah would have spent the next 365 days referring to me as 'Gob of the Year' and thanks to Peyman I have bilked that dire fate. Now we could go drinking, but instead we spend hours wandering around the labrynthine Habtoor Grand Hotel in search of a bar that would accept men dressed in kandouras. What a joke - teetotal hosts that aren't allowed to join their friends in a bar. Eventually, exhausted by wandering aimlessley down the charmless marble corridors, we find a smoky joint that's a ten second walk from the place we were thrown out of. It turns out that the toilets are actually over in the forbidden bar.

Which is, I'm sure a metaphor for something.

As we celebrate Peyman's win, I'm filled with a strange sense of unease. And then I realise it's because the press aren't with us. That's a bad thing - it means they're holed up in some dark, foreboding garret 'writing up' the evening.

I fear the worst...

SEO and Strange Searches

Image via CrunchBase

It's an odd fact of life that Blogger blogs have brilliant 'SEO', which has led to some odd rumples in the space time continuum. Every now and then I like to share a few of the stranger or more interesting searches that have popped people through a wormhole to this dusty little corner of the Web - I've included a few that I think are strange because I don't think I deserve the attention.

SEO, search engine optimisation, is a set of techniques that are used to attract the attention of search engines as they 'crawl' the Web looking for the right content to present to you when you search for something. Vagaries in SEO can mean that search engines put some interesting stuff at the top of the pile sometimes. For instance, to search for the glorious and famous Fakhreddine Restaurant in Amman and get me rambling can be something of a let down.

Strange searches (the phrase itself belongs to the blog - if you Google it, this is what you get) include batty or worrying things - for instance "www.anemal faking wamen", I don't think he meant impersonating, or the perennial "russian girl face slash" which I honestly wish I didn't 'own' as the first search result. Here are a few notes on recent searches that piqued my curiosity, just in case they pique yours!

how to fake incompetence
I'm not sure how to take this one, but a Google search of this phrase takes you straight to your number one incompetence fakery blog! I almost feel I should write a post to at least help those brilliant minds who are trying to disguise their talents under a bumbling, shambolic and useless exterior. Or perhaps just redirect them to HSBC, who are capable of doign a pretty good job of it - although I'm not entirely sure they're faking.

my city my metro
It's baffling, but with all the millions that Dubai's Road and Transport Authority (or RTA as we lovingly call them) has invested on the campaign to let us know that the damn huge HotWheels set on stilts that snakes ubiquitously through our city is 'our' metro, you still get people like me when you search for the slogan they pumped so much money into. As young people today say, 'pwned'.

confidence in media
What's worrying is not just that you get to here by searching for it, but that I have a constant drizzle of searches doing just that!

Fake deoxyribonucleic acid
The more insanely esoteric your post titles, the oddest searches you'll land. Sadly for the international criminal looking to hedge against future DNA tests by faking his DNA, the best thing the internet can offer is me whining about DNA testing in the UAE...

air outpost
It's actually slightly tragic that when you search for the name of one of the most important early documentaries to use the format we recognise today as 'documentary', created by London Films under Alex Korda and featuring a score by respected C20th composer William Allwyn, you get led here. Surely someone more interesting or important has something more interesting or important to say about this little slice of film history?

fake plastic dubai
I have nothing to add.

Mafsoum
The post linked above explains all. I'm delighted to 'own' the Arabic for schizophrenic.

nmkl pjkl ftmch
My favourite of all time. Not only do people actually SEARCH for 'nmkl pjkl ftmch', I now own it. Official. Ha, Sherif Abaza! Ha!

TDS for Aquafina and Fake Pringles
I'm actually quite proud that thousands of consumers from around the world have landed here having googled questions about what's actually in Aquafina and Pringles. It does show how 'consumer voice' can really make a difference to people's choices. I actually feel a bit useful. Have to stop that before I start taking myself seriously...

Another Bunch of Total Bankers

Image via Wikipedia

I can’t say that my 15-year relationship with my bank has been a happy one. Strangely enough, things were better back in the days when they used to have Bedouin guards at the door of the Bur Dubai branch and when you had to visit the branch for every transaction. That’s perhaps because life was different then and it was expected that any transaction would necessitate your physical presence, in banking, business and government.

The advent of automation has brought an end to all that, saving us all hours of unproductive and needless hanging around and meetings – now we can buy things, process things and generally get things done online. This is particularly true of banking, where telephone banking and Internet banking both mean that contact with the bank’s staff is reduced to an absolute minimum.

I, for one, am delighted at that because every single encounter with the morons has my blood pressure in the stratosphere faster than an Apollo mission that’s late for tea.

Sadly, many banks in the UAE appear to make broadly the same mistake. These days, when people seek to escalate to a human being, it is usually because there is some exception to the normal routine, a need to talk to someone who can go beyond the ordinary and actually help to find an intelligent solution to a problem that goes beyond the 'system'. If we could sort it out using the system, we wouldn’t be on the ‘phone or, God forbid, dragging our sorry butts into the confusing and vaguely dehumanising environment of the branch. So offering customers a disempowered goon who merely looks at the same information that’s available to us all on our own screens at home and sits grinning like a mildly embarrassed macaque really isn’t going to cut the mustard.

This has always escaped banks in general and, I feel, my bank in particular. The bank makes getting through to an actual, identifiable person in the branch really quite difficult. And when you do, they are uniquely unqualified and unable to help in any way whatsoever. Their job titles are inversely linked to their capability to do anything if my Status Account Special Customer Service Miracle Worker and Glorious Helper are anything to go by. Worse, some clot in management has dictated that they should end every call with “Is there anything else I can do to help you?” Given that most of my calls are frustrating exercises in migraine-inducing head banging that do not actually offer me any solution to my initial problem, this sign-off is ever-increasingly in danger of having me committed for some awful crime of passion.

I’m even starting to get a Pavlovian reaction to the sound of tapping keyboards. I break out into a sweat, knowing what I’m about to hear: “That’s not possible, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

HSBC has recently taken to gleefully refusing to honour my cheques, for instance. Given that I have written hundreds of cheques over my fifteen long years with them, you’d think that I had been injured in my right hand or had some other major life change that would explain why my signature is suddenly so different, but no – it’s the same old signature. Adding insult to injury, it’s quite a distinctive signature, a megalomaniacal scrawl that makes scrip-writing doctors pause to admire its complete lack of similarity to anything that could approximate to a reading of my name. But I like it and it has always been so. I’d post an example for you to see, but that would be silly in these criminal times. You’ll just have to take my word for it: I have the signature of a madman and it is uniquely, utterly and compellingly distinctive.

When the bank returned my cheque to the AC maintenance company, we bit the bullet and set off for the branch, our packed lunches in little chequered cloth bundles strung on the end of beanpoles. We knew it was going to be a long haul and we were right. The solution, after much frustration, keyboard tapping and idiotic grinning, was to rescan my signature. Super. Done.

Finding that they’ve done it again, only this time to Emirates Post for the renewal of our PO Box, was mildly disconcerting. Emirates Post, of course, takes six months to process the returned cheque and tells you there is a problem by blocking the PO Box rather than actually communicating with you in any way. But I was amazed that nobody had actually told me they'd refused a cheque months ago.

I called to ask why the bank has now taken to multiply dishonouring my cheques without any reference to me. I did take the opportunity to point out that honouring a customer’s cheque was perhaps the most basic of banking services and that maybe a bank that couldn’t get that first step right shouldn’t even be trying the more complicated stuff.

“We tried to contact you,” said the gurgling nincompoop on the line.

This was an interesting tactic. I have never in my life received a missed call from the bank – and my mobile is on 24x7. What’s more, you can get in touch with me via voice, SMS, voicemail, landline, faxline, email – I access my home and work email at all times, sadly even on the mobile now - or even using the awkward and badly implemented Internet banking email box system. I roam. I’m not even going to start on the number of online tools and forums you can catch me on. Let’s just say that if you want to get in touch, I am pretty much infinitely contactable. In fact some people have complained that they can’t actually avoid me.

I asked who tried to contact me, when and through which method. “We don’t know,” said the ‘poop. So how did he know they had tried to contact me?

Silence.

I shall draw a merciful veil over the rest of the call. But I am now stuck with a bank that blocks my Visa card following everyday transactions with vendors I use frequently, fails to make transfers as instructed, charging me for the consequent exchange losses, and now dishonours my cheques without notice or reference to me.

None of that would be a problem if they had someone that could undo the damage, a sort of SuperBanker. But they don’t, they just have disempowered nincompoops who lie rather than actually go to the effort of tracking down a problem. Because customer service is the very least of the bank’s concerns – the least of its investments and the business process it gives least consideration and resource to managing. And you have to admit, when a highly profitable global organisation’s customer service is infuriatingly process driven, badly managed and inept at every level, the cause of universal howls of frustrated complaint from the vast majority of its customers, you’d be forgiven for thinking that perhaps we’ve all got it wrong. Perhaps the secret to being a great business is actually to set out to royally piss off your customers as a business strategy! Maybe McKinsey or someone has told them to do it and so that’s what they’re actually doing – actually investing in annoying customers.

If so, they’re damn good at it.