Jordan

Roomie Shane and I spent the weekend and a lot of money in Jordan this weekend. It was a good time.

Highlights of the three-day stay included: floating in the Dead Sea with Jordanian peasants, scaling rose coloured rocks at the lost ancient city of Petra (which ranks among the coolest things of all times), talking politics and crimes of passion with Cheryl and decoding bourgeous menu choices at a stylish, fusion/meat-market restaurant in Amman.

Lowlights include spotting locals hauling the body out of a crumpled car at the bottom of a rock-strewn gorge, the hideous exchange rate for the Egyptian pound and the 28-hour travel time it took to get from Cairo to Amman.

Pics courtesy of Shane McNeil. His blog link is to your left. Check it, yo.


"I'm King of the World!" Shane before his iff-fated attempt at rock climbing

Dead Head: another sunny afternoon at the world's lowest point
I've always been a floater ...
The lost city of Petra, as seen by its entrance -- a red-rock gorge called the Siq
Lean on me: I got 99 lower back problems

Looking out into the abyss

PETRA! NOT JUST A CHRISTIAN ROCK BAND!

Here's a photo of Shane, myself and our friend Cheryl (who acted as tour guide, soothsayer and travel consultant) enjoying some libations at a smokey bar in Amman. About 30 minutes later (at 11:30 p.m.) the bar cleared out so all the Jordanian girls could be home for curfew. Drinkus Interuptus was the order of the night, apparently.

A Whole New Low

My journalism career has reached a sad new nadir. Things don't get much worse than this. These fucks won't even do a telephone interview with me. Their publicist said "the guys were really busy and won't have time ..."

Kleptocrats and the Trickle Down Myth

Hadeel made some astute comments about poverty in Egypt on her blog space the other day, which in turn inspired me to post a follow up on this space.

Basically, Hadeel laments the nature of socioeconomic disparity in Egypt, where the difference between the country’s mega rich and the tens of millions of mega poor is a shocking display of injustice.

Indeed, while Egypt IS a poor country, there's heaps of money here. It’s not uncommon to see Ferraris speed past street kids peddling Kleenex.

In fact, at a recent press conference I attended at the 5-star Nile Hilton, the European Union’s finance chief Peter Mandelson said the world was witnessing the “unleashing of an economic tiger on the Nile.”

Fine, but where is all the investment capital going? Good question.

The kleptocrats* who are fostering the "explosive" growth of Egypt's economy right now (driven by commodities, real estate speculation and tourism) are squandering the country’s resources.

Rather than pumping foreign currency back into diversifying the economy (Egypt has armies of well-trained tech workers, engineers and a massive pool of young labour perfect for manufacturing), the country’s "business leaders" plow the country's capital into wasteful, unsustainable projects.

Case in point is Serrenia – a mammoth, multi-billion dollar luxury development nestled on the Red Sea coast.

According to the development company’s nauseating promotional material, Serrenia offers “palace residences of unmatched opulence, private villas, apartments, and a world class golf complex.”

Serrenia also “delivers a unique living experience, a home, a place of relaxation and repose.”

Yakk.

While the project is being developed by a London-based, Jordanian-owned holding company called SPIG, a sales representative at the Cairo office named Omar (who wouldn’t give his last name) told me that an Egyptian-based bank was also an investor in the project.

He also told me that Serrenia is a “global village” for “young jet setters and Hollywood stars.”

Some of the media have reported that the largest properties, which the developers dub as “palaces,” have a price tag of about $30 million USD. Whoa. I asked Omar what makes a palace a palace.

“Basically, the sheer size of the plot of land and the built up area around it,” he said, before getting defensive about my question.

“Look, all the media tag onto the palaces, but what we’re trying to build is a very luxurious, global community that speaks to a wide variety of consumers,” he continued, noting that Serrenia also offers apartment dwellings and a 300-berth marina.

I wonder how the apartments in Serrenia compare to the brick hovels in Imbaba, one of the world’s largest slums which is a 10 minute walk from my apartment?

It’s a shame. Unless the rich in this country get smart and think ahead, Egypt will always be a minor player in world economics. Worse yet, the numbers of slum dwellers living in extreme poverty will continue to grow exponentially until the whole system collapses.

Look, I’m not Mother Theresa and I’ve never claimed to be an advocate of worldwide socialism, but I do feel pangs of guilt every time I walk past a dusty mother of three begging barefoot on the street.

Those who live in glass houses should beware. In the words of global crusader Steven Tyler, "eat the rich."

*(I picked this word up from a book called "Planet of Slums" which my roomate Shane picked up for me in Canada last month)

TOUTS N' TOUTS

I'm exited about the internet for a few reasons this morning. Here's why.

Skulljuice has posted a new Justice track. Who ray.

It's totally slammin' (this one grows on you like a bad fungus) and the good news is that this track, called Phantom, is actually the B-side of the upcoming D.A.N.C.E. (their periods, not mine) EP.

Fucken A.

Can't wait to hear the A-side.

Next up, some interesting comments from Egypt's Minister of Tourism this week, who warns that aggressive touts and scam artists scare away more tourists than the threat of terrorism.

Indeed, he said that many tourists leave Egypt with a bad taste in their mouth and vow never to return.

Yikes.

These comments are pretty on it, methinks. Anyone who's braved the Giza crush just to get a glance of the p.y.r.a.m.i.d.s. (my periods) will relate.

Check the article here if'n your interested.

Other good news from the world of travel writing. The Star ran a piece on Dahab I wrote a couple of months ago. I'm not sure what it looked like in print but whatever. Check it.

Other than that, I'm planning a trip to Germany with my little sister, where we plan to check out some dancefloors, peruse boutique sneaker shops and eat some sausages.

Stay tuned.

SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE: ISRAEL PART 2

10.9.8.7.6.5.4.3.2...BORING.

Happy New Year.

As 2006 finally ground out its last few seconds (thank God for that), I found myself sitting in a lousy hostel in Tel Aviv with an American nihilist sipping cheap red wine.

Not what I had in mind. Enough of this, I mumbled.

I'd heard about a New Year's jam going down in Jerusalem, and (at worst) I figured sitting on a bus was better than sitting in a hostel listening to some dude moan about how he didn't care about NYE.

So I stepped outside, caught a bus downtown and hopped in a sherut (shared taxi) which took me 45 minutes into the hills surrounding Jerusalem.

Long story short, I arrived at the Khan complex -- a stone theatre dating from pre-Ottoman times -- to find a long line up party people crowding around the building's iron gates.

The party was put on by a small Jerusalem-based techno collective called Pacotek, and the beats drifting from inside sounded hot.

After plenty of pushing and shoving, three shots of arak (an Israeli liquor which tastes like ouzo's goth cousin) and a glass of grapefruit juice, I was finally on the dancefloor and kicking it to the sounds of this dude Aaron Hedges, who is an American living in Berlin.

The music was minimal but the party was maximal. Above is a photo I stole off some guy's website. If you look closely, you will see me in the bottom right corner teaching a young Israeli how to do the robot dance.

At 6 a.m. the lights came on, and I made my way back to Tel Aviv, exhausted, drunk and incredibly thankful I took the chance.

ISRAEL PART ONE

Location: Dank hostel room on the Tel Aviv waterfront

Characters: Me and Male Hostel Worker

Time: 11:30 a.m. on New Years Day

Situation: I pulled into the hostel at 8 a.m. after an all-nite party in Jerusalem, which was the culmination of an eight-day drinking binge/tourist jaunt through Israel.

I didn’t sleep much and didn’t eat much: the trip was a chance to bust loose in a western-style country after four months in Egypt.

Watch the sparks fly when an over zealous hostel worker tries to rouse me from bed.

…AND ACTION!

Hostel Worker: (Bursts into dorm room, disturbing my sleep) “Hey! You up in the bunk! Are you staying another night here?”

Me: (Groggy and rubbing eyes) “What? What? Am I staying another night? Naw. I’m leaving today.”

HW: (Annoyed) “Well, check out was an hour ago. It’s 11:30 now.”

Me: “Well, sue me.”

HW: “I’m sorry?”

Me: “You heard me. SUE ME!”

HW: (Visibly shocked at my aggressive response) “Look, don’t get smart. Check out was an hour ago. If you want to sleep in, then you can pay another 62 shekles for tonight.”

Me: “Hey, LOOK CREEP. I’ve had a really long night and I really fucking hate the Eagles. So cut me some slack.”

HW: “Do you want me to call the police?”

Me: “Go ahead and call them, dinkus. I’m a Canadian citizen. Call them and they’ll laugh at you. What are you going to tell them, that there’s some Canadian tourist who slept in? I didn’t realize they had a law against hangovers in this country. In fact, most of the world is waking up with a hangover this morning, so give me a FUCKING BREAAAAAK!”

HW: "Get out of that bed now! Get out! Now! Get out of that bed NOW!”

Me: “I actually have a hard on right now and I’m not comfortable with getting out of bed in front of you.”

HW: “What? Look. GET OUT OF BED!”

Me: “Do you want to see my dink?”

HW: (Shocked, angry and flabbergasted) “I’m calling the police in 20 minutes.”

Hostel worker leaves the room. I go back to sleep. End scene.