Metropolitan arterial thrombosis

Over the years I have lived in this city, my daily commute has ranged from a few minutes to a frustrating hour or more. Current employment and accommodation are conveniently located in the opposite direction to the major traffic flows on Shk Zayed Car Park, so I can usually reach the office in a comfortable 23 minutes or so.

Not so today. First mistake, thinking that a queue which only reached back half way up the Greens meant that traffic there was moving. Wrong. Half an hour after leaving the house, I joined the next queue, to join the Shk Z C P. Movement is slow enough to allow me to postulate a theory of traffic flow based on fluid dynamics, and conclude that it is a non-linear equation. That is, any road has a given capacity for flowing traffic, which is based on a number of variables such as width, surface quality, visibility and number of junctions/exits. In normal conditions, where the amount of traffic is less than this calculated capacity, traffic flows freely and well. However, as traffic volumes approach the limit of the least accommodating stretch of highway, something happens, a 'tipping point' where the behaviour of the traffic changes from one state to another. Imagine water flowing through a pipe, and the water turns to treacle. It doesn't just slow slightly, it alters its behaviour by a factor of 10 or more.

This 'step change' seems to occur on Dubai's roads, and to spread out wave-like from the point of the original congestion. There is another model, a 'wave theory' of flow which describes the manner in which the effect of a minor incident causing approaching drivers to apply their brakes will leave a clot in traffic flow that persists long beyond the life of the original incident - think of the number of times you have been stuck in traffic crawling towards the point of an earlier accident, now cleared, only to find yourself accellarating back to normal speed once past the now non-existent obstacle. This bunching effect also moves slowly back down the queue of traffic against the direction in which the traffic is moving.

And so today. Sh Z C P thrombotic from Interchange 5 all the way in to Dubai. Inventive drivers creating their own personal exit ramps from the main highway into Al Qoz. Interchange 3 at an unexplained standstill. Interchange 2 ditto. Think I'll be smart and duck behind Emirates Towers and come up the underpass on the other side. Fat chance. Our brave Boys in Green have closed the tunnel and are directing everyone down towards the Trade Centre Roundabout. Back into the queue.

Crawl back along Sh Z C P past the scene of much consternation, another high-rise construction fire, apparently confined to the top floors of the tower. Must have been spectacular in the pre-dawn light - there was a considerable amount of ash and debris still scattered across the highway, gamely being gathered by a crew of labourers ducking between the crawling lines of traffic. Get past that, and the final kilometre of highway to my office is blissfully free-flowing. What should have taken 23 minutes today entailed a drive of an hour and a half. Still, got lucky with a parking space...

Hand-built by Indians

There is across from my office a building site (a statement I imagine you could make about most offices in Dubai!). My elevated window affords an excellent view of the various toings and froings on the site, and of the labour taking place there.

I have been puzzled by one particular group, and finally figured out what they are doing. Four of them, standing in opposed pairs, turning a crank with obvious effort - I mean, how much force is involved that requires the joint effort of four men. Surely, this is something better achieved by a motor and a switch? But no.

I digress. The foundations of this as-yet unidentified building are being dug, great big drills mounted on cranes boring vertical shafts deep into the sand. Into these is then inserted a tubular steel structure formed of welded rebar, not unlike a stent, and this is then filled with poured concrete. Quieter than piledriving, though I don't know if it produces a more secure foundation. These steel formers are produced on site, welded up as needed in a jig, using lengths drawn from a vast pile of rebar on one side of the entrance.

The final piece of the jigsaw slotted into place this afternoon. There is a fifth labourer in this group. His job it is to feed one of these straight lengths of rebar into the bending machine, a former which grips one end of the steel rod and wraps it around a drum to create a spiral of the correct diameter to fit into the jig for welding. And it is this former, the drum itself, which is being turned by our long-suffering gang of four.

You four, I salute. Your efforts are heroic, worthy of record here, and deserving of wider recognition.

Dubai Drums, and all that jazz

Impressed? You betcha!

When you were at school, did the careers advisor ever suggest fiddle player as the foundation of an international career? Probably not. And yet, there are some very well traveled players out there with more airmiles in their account than this writer is likely to see…

So it was last night. Drums of the World at the Jazz Festival. Twenty seven people, from five continents, and what a glorious noise they made! Didgeridoo, mouth harp, bodhran, tabla – the instruments were as exotic and varied as their players.

Delighted to see drummers from the UAE onstage, and intrigued at how different their rhythms were from those emanating from the other side of Africa, the Moroccan section. And how completely different again from the djembe-wielding crew on the left. Add to that the Brazilians, the Jamaicans, the Indians, the Irish and Australians…

Julie-Anne O’Dell has achieved something quite remarkable here, a disparate troop of musicians which is her own instrument, an orchestra of drummers marching to a beat all her own. She conducted the whole ragtaggle group with confidence, passion and precision, and a masterful performance it was. This was real jazz, a group of talented players inspired by each other, by turns competing with and supporting their fellow performers, swapping phrases and rhythms and sending them back considered, embellished, enhanced.

What a fabulous way to kick off an evening of music. Drumming is loud, energizing, visceral, compelling… ..you can’t help but feel uplifted and empowered by such infectious rhythms. I have no idea who followed them onto the stage, but it is hard to imagine a better preamble. There were certainly more famous and more learned musicians on the bill, but I doubt there were any more enthusiastic. Last night, Drums of the World well and truly rocked!

Only in Dubai...

There are many aspects of this beguiling city that serve as a sharp reminder to a western expat that the Middle East really is different - not least the fact that there is sufficient business to sustain a vetinary practice specialising purely in the care of falcons...

But came across one yesterday that rather took the biscuit. We were looking for a collar for a dog, and the search led us to one of the longer-established pet shops in Dubai. After pausing to admire the jewel-like colour of the iguanas on the counter, we found the canine section. All sorts of leads, harnesses and collars, including several large, macho studded things to properly reflect the savage nature of your beast. If that's your thang...

And there on the top shelf, was, well, what? Some sort of refugee from a dominatrix's wardrobe? Fetish gear for rottweilers? Bondage equipment for the more alternative amongst us? Not quite. On closer inspection (well, you would, wouldn't you?), these studded constructions in leather and bronze turned out to be just another piece of pet accessory. A walking harness for your panther, no less!