Things I learnt from My trip to Saudi Arabia & Dubai

I was thinking about writing a detailed, emotive piece upon my return, but seeing that I don't have any time (I am being forced to fly to Minnesotta on Monday ... what!?) I will resort to bullet point form:

- Emirates Airlines is the worst possible airline ever. Maybe it was good some years back. Maybe it will be good again. But I will never fly Emirates again.

- Dubai is overrated. The only thing I see good in it for me, is its proximity to Pakistan.

- Saudis are still the laziest bunch of ... saudis. No other word can describe them.

- My dad can still go miles with his Arabic skills, and he totally saved the day on numerous occassions including at the airport. Without him it would have taken us 4 hours to get out of the airport. With him, it took us 3 and a half.

- Emirates Airlines has the worst customer service ever. At one point an old passenger asked one of the hostesses when they will be serving food (it had been 5 hours), and the response was exactly this: "We don't know sir! We are not robots!"

- Apparently I got some good friends that I hadn't met in 12 years or kept in touch with. My friend Iftikhar came not only to pick us up, but on the way back to Jeddah we practically lived at his place. He majorly skipped work to be with us, and was helpful in every way. Arsalan was another friend I hadn't met in a long time and was totally there for us the whole time. Like he said, "No matter after how many years you meet your old friends. You pick up where you left off".

- The food in Saudi Arabia has totally gone south. I was totally looking forward to the food and man it was horrible. Yes, people, even Al-Baik! I had it once, and I didn't want to have it again. Seriously. Very disappointed. Very sad. Imagine this. Near Haram in Makkah, the only "Shawarma" you can find is made with dry chicken and cabbage only. Cabbage!? Seriously!?

- Emirates Airlines has the worst customer service ever. One of the hosts dropped dirty stacked food trays on my mother while walking by her (she was sitting in the isle seat), stopped, apologized, said he'd be back with napkins, and never came back.

- I like living in Canada. And being away from Canada to a country other than Pakistan, made me realize: if not Pakistan, then Canada. If not Canada, then Pakistan. Nothing else.

- Emirates Airlines is just fucked up bad. They gave my dad's No Sodium meal to some other passenger by mistake.

Guitar Idol - Vote for Faraz Anwar

Here is an email I got today. I've already voted. Make sure you do as well.

*Guitar idol* is an online talent search for unknown guitarist
throughout the world, the guitarists compete through 3 online heats
and one online knock-out round, for a chance to fill 12 places to play
at the London International Music Show

*Faraz Anwar* is the only *Pakistani* to enter into the Online
Knock-Out Round. His Instrumental “Autumn Madness” was highly
appreciated which was uploaded on March 16th and received *720 votes*
in a short span of two weeks claiming *2nd place* to enter into the
Online Knock-Out Round.

/*Vote here

*/http://www.guitaridol.tv/online_final/entry/autumn_madness

I am for Art - Claes Oldenburg

I am for an art that is political-erotical-mystical, that does something other than sit on its ass in a museum.

I am for an art that grows up not knowing it is art at all, an art given the chance of having a staring point of zero.

I am for an art that embroils itself with the everyday crap & still comes out on top.

I am for an art that imitates the human, that is comic, if necessary, or violent, or whatever is necessary.

I am for an art that takes its form from the lines of life itself, that twists and extends and accumulates and spits and drips, and is heavy and coarse and blunt and sweet and stupid as life itself.


I am for an artist who vanishes, turning up in a white cap painting signs or hallways.


I am for an art that comes out of a chimney like black hair and scatters in the sky.

I am for an art that spills out of an old man's purse when he is bounced off a passing fender.

I am for the art out of a doggy's mouth, falling five stories from the roof.

I am for the art that a kid licks, after peeling away the wrapper.

I am for an art that joggles like everyones knees, when the bus traverses an excavation.

I am for art that is smoked, like a cigarette, smells, like a pair of shoes.

I am for art that flaps like a flag or helps blow noses, like a handkerchief.

I am for art that is put on and taken off, like pants, which develops holes, like socks, which is eaten, like a piece of pie, or abandoned with great contempt, like a piece of shit.


I am for art covered with bandages, I am for art that limps and rolls and runs and jumps. I am for art comes in a can or washes up on the shore.

I am for art that coils and grunts like a wrestler. I am for art that sheds hair.

I am for art you can sit on. I am for art you can pick your nose with or stub your toes on.

I am for art from a pocket, from deep channels of the ear, from the edge of a knife, from the corners of the mouth, stuck in the eye or worn on the wrist.

I am for art under the skirts, and the art of pinching cockroaches.


I am for the art of conversation between the sidewalk and a blind mans metal stick.

I am for the art that grows in a pot, that comes down out of the skies at night, like lightning, that hides in the clouds and growls. I am for art that is flipped on and off with a switch.

I am for art that unfolds like a map, that you can squeeze, like your sweetys arm, or kiss, like a pet dog. Which expands and squeaks, like an accordion, which you can spill your dinner on, like an old tablecloth.

I am for an art that you can hammer with, stitch with, sew with, paste with, file with.

I am for an art that tells you the time of day, or where such and such a street is.

I am for an art that helps old ladies across the street.

I am for the art of the washing machine. I am for the art of a government check. I am for the art of last wars raincoat.

I am for the art that comes up in fogs from sewer-holes in winter. I am for the art that splits when you step on a frozen puddle. I am for the worms art inside the apple. I am for the art of sweat that develops between crossed legs.

I am for the art of neck-hair and caked tea-cups, for the art between the tines of restaurant forks, for odor of boiling dishwater.

I am for the art of sailing on Sunday, and the art of red and white gasoline pumps.

I am for the art of bright blue factory columns and blinking biscuit signs.

I am for the art of cheap plaster and enamel. I am for the art of worn marble and smashed slate. I am for the art of rolling cobblestones and sliding sand. I am for the art of slag and black coal. I am for the art of dead birds.

I am for the art of scratchings in the asphalt, daubing at the walls. I am for the art of bending and kicking metal and breaking glass, and pulling at things to make them fall down.


I am for the art of punching and skinned knees and sat-on bananas. I am for the art of kids' smells. I am for the art of mama-babble.

I am for the art of bar-babble, tooth-picking, beerdrinking, egg-salting, in-sulting. I am for the art of falling off a bartstool.


I am for the art of underwear and the art of taxicabs. I am for the art of ice-cream cones dropped on concrete. I am for the majestic art of dog-turds, rising like cathedrals.

I am for the blinking arts, lighting up the night. I am for art falling, splashing, wiggling, jumping, going on and off.

I am for the art of fat truck-tires and black eyes.

I am for Kool-art, 7-UP art, Pepsi-art, Sunshine art, 39 cents art, 15 cents art, Vatronol Art, Dro-bomb art, Vam art, Menthol art, L & M art Ex-lax art, Venida art, Heaven Hill art, Pamryl art, San-o-med art, Rx art, 9.99 art, Now art, New ar, How art, Fire sale art, Last Chance art, Only art, Diamond art, Tomorrow art, Franks art, Ducks art, Meat-o-rama art.

I am for the art of bread wet by rain. I am for the rat's dance between floors. I am for the art of flies walking on a slick pear in the electric light. I am for the art of soggy onions and firm green shoots. I am for the art of clicking among the nuts when the roaches come and go. I am for the brown sad art of rotting apples.

I am for the art of meowls and clatter of cats and for the art of their dumb electric eyes.

I am for the white art of refigerators and their muscular openings and closing.

I am for the art of rust and mold. I am for the art of hearts, funeral hearts or sweetheart hearts, full of nougat. I am for the art of worn meathooks and singing barrels of red, white, blue and yellow meat.

I am for the art of things lost or thrown away, coming home from school. I am for the art of cock-and-ball trees and flying cows and the noise of rectangles and squares. I am for for the art of crayons and weak grey pencil-lead, and grainy wash and sticky oil paint, and the art of windshield wipers and the art of the finger on a cold window, on dusty steel or in the bubbles on the sides of a bathtub.

I am for the art of teddy-bears and guns and decapitated rabbits, explodes umbrellas, raped beds, chairs with their brown bones broken, burning trees, firecracker ends, chicken bones, pigeon bones, and boxes with men sleeping in them.


I am for the art of slightly rotten funeral flowers, hung bloody rabbits and wrinkly yellow chickens, bass drums & tambourines, and plastic phonographs.

I am for the art of abandoned boxes, tied like pharohs. I am for an art of watertanks and speeding clouds and flapping shades.

I am for U.S. Government Inspected Art, Grade A art, Regular Price art, Yellow Ripe art, Extra Fancy art, Ready-to-eat art, Best-for-less art, Ready-to-cook art, Fully cleaned art, Spend Less art, Eat Better art, Ham art, Pork art, chicken art, tomato art, bana art, apple art, turkey art, cake art, cookie art.


add:

I am for an art that is combed down, that is hung from each ear, that is laid on the lips and under the eyes, that is shaved from the legs, that is burshed on the teeth, that is fixed on the thighs, that is slipped on the foot.


square which becomes blobby



May 1961

Great Home Recording Blog

I found this great (but seemingly now dead; last post was May of 2008) blog on Home Recording. It has some great articles to refresh one's memory before one starts recording again. One could be me.

http://www.hometracked.com/

Global Financial Meltdown - Made Easy Lahori Style

I usually delete email forwards right from the Inbox without opening, but my brother sent me this one (who otherwise never does), and it's definitely a very good read on how good old greed got the whole world into the current economic shithole.

Pajja is the proprietor of a Siri-Paya and Nehari Shop in Lahore. Sales are low
and, in order to increase them, he comes up with a plan to allow his customers
to eat now and pay later. He keeps track of the meals consumed on a ledger.

Word gets around and as a result increasing numbers of customers flock
to Pajja’s shop. Pajja’s suppliers are delighted and are very willing to sell
more and more raw materials for the meals he prepares. Pajja shows them his
ledger of receivables and they extend him credit.

A young and dynamic customer service consultant at the local bank recognizes these customer debts as valuable future assets and gives Pajja a credit line and then increases Pajja’s borrowing limit.

Taking advantage of his customers' freedom from immediate payment constraints, Pajja jacks up the prices of his Nehari and Siri-Paye. Customers dont mind as they are not required to pay on the spot. Sales volume increases massively; Banks and suppliers lend more; Pajja opens more outlets. He sees no reason for undue concern since he has the debts of the customers as collateral.

At the bank's corporate headquarters, expert bankers recognize Pajja's customer loans as assets and transform these customer assets into BONDS. These negotiable instruments are given exotic names such as SIRIBOND, PAYABOND, MAGHAZBOND AND BONGBOND. These securities are then listed on the Stock Exchange and traded on markets worldwide. No one really understands what the names mean and how the securities are guaranteed but, nevertheless, as their prices continuously climb, the securities become top-selling items.

One day, although the prices are still climbing, a credit risk manager of the bank decides that the time has come to demand payment of one of the debts incurred by Pajja. Pajja in turn asks his clients to pay up. One by one they refuse; the clients cannot pay back the debts. Pajja refuses to serve them any more. The clients stop coming.

Pajja is really screwed now. He cannot fulfill his loan obligations and therefore claims bankruptcy.All Bonds drop in price by between 80 to 95%.

The suppliers of Pajja, having granted generous payment due dates and having invested in the securities are faced with similar problems. The meat supplier defaults on payment to the sheep and cattle supplier and claims bankruptcy. The atta supplier is taken over by a competitor; Pajja lays off the cook and staff. Bankruptcies soar, unemployment mushrooms.

The bank that lent the money in the first place is set to collapse. It is saved by the Government following dramatic round-the-clock consultations by leaders from the governing political parties with Pajja commuting back and forth in his Executive jet and Mercedes 500SEL, brokering the deal.

The funds required to save the economic collapse are obtained by a tax levied on the
citizens, most of whom do not eat Nehari or Siri-paye.