Bad Movie Nights

Staying abroad is an excellent opportunity for cultural exchange – not just with the local people, but also with other foreigners. So that’s how I learnt to make Italian pasta or to appreciate how much you can talk about food .

A venerable tradition

A couple of week ago, I was finally able to return the favour to my Italian friends by introducing them to the tradition of “Bad Movie Nights”.  I had started this (not particularly Swiss) tradition sometime after high school, together with three friends. One of them is an expert on anything medieval – the fact that he spent his spare time fabricating chain mails and actually came to school wearing one of them did nothing to diminish his reputation -  and watching movies with a pseudo-medieval fantasy setting together with him was not just educational but also highly entertaining, as he tended to take any historical inaccuracy pretty personal. The habit of getting together at least once a year to watch a terribly bad (usually fantasy or science fiction) movie was somehow sustained through the next decade.

Germans behaving badly

As movies shown here tend to be in Russian, Federica, Giulio and I decided that we had to arrange our own cinema. And after I had stumbled over a cheap copy of “10’000 B.C.” by Roland Emmerich I suggested a “Bad Movie Night”. It was a full success and I am quite sure that the ridiculously rendered giant turkey chasing the hero through the 500m Jungle strip between the Arctic and a Stargate-style Egypt (don’t ask) had absolutely nothing to do with that.

I thus suggested a movie by another German director: Uwe Boll – infamous for turning bad video games into even worse movies that never make any money while still managing to hire some at least B-list actors. And he challenges his critics to boxing matches (don’t ask – check the Wikipedia article).

Anyway, we got hold of a copy of “In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale.” Hilarity ensued. I could of course try to explain what was so terribly bad and funny about that movie, but there are people on the net who are far better qualified, so I leave it to the masters Sobczynski and Will Helm with his “scene by scene comment”. Seriously, if you have a bad mood, just watch the movie – or read the reviews. I haven’t had that much fun for while.

Snow!

And for something completely unrelated: Yesterday evening it started snowing! Hurray! (Of course it starts snowing the very moment I bought the lights for my bike… But at least I can use my super-warm coat now)

And now for something completely different…

Someone in my family white a long tradition of complaining about bosses, work, politicians and other things around him criticized yesterday that I am not being upbeat enough and too cynical in my blog.

Well, I was about to write a positive and warm post about supermarkets in Kyrgyzstan, but haven’t gotten around to it yet as I am too busy dodging crazy ladas while cycling to work.

But in the meantime: A Kyrgyz friend introduced me to this youtube video about a (I am afraid, non-Kyrgyz) dancing bird:

I hope this counterbalances the cynicism of the other posts.

Protected: Holidays, Part VIII: Flying back with RAFO – the Royal Air Force of Oman

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Protected: Holidays, Part VII: Kayaks and Burqas

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Protected: Holidays, Part VI: Around Masira in One Day

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Protected: Holidays, Part V: Arriving on Masira Island

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Holidays, Part IV: Hotels with shower curtains and other details

Forms of tourism

There are different ways of spending your holidays. I’ve never been the “lying around at the beach during the day and drinking myself into stupor in the evening in some shifty pub/disco” kind of tourist, and neither the “lying around the pool and spending enormous amounts of money on a posh hotel” type, and do not even belong to the “drive around with 20 other tourists in a bus to visit ten important historical sites in one day” species. I’m more the backpacking “let’s pick an interesting remote spot and see if we can get there by public transport, befriending some locals on the way” kinda gal.

View of Mattrah's Corniche from Boom Restaurant on top of the Marina Hotel

But let’s face it: It is certainly the most interesting (as in “may you live in interesting times“) way of travelling, and certainly the one that results in the most amusing anecdotes. Those practicing this form of travelling also like to believe that it enlightens one about the local culture, results in greater mutual understanding between cultures and forms livelong friendships spanning the globe. And of course it is much more environmental friendly, non-exploitative, aware and respectful of local sensitivities and so on.

a bit later...

This may be so, or it might not, but it is undoubtedly also much more straining. And after spending all my work-time trying to understand different cultures, or figuring out how to get from A to B or how to acquire C in a foreign environment, I felt an odd, decadent craving for lazy holidays. After all, Oman and the UAE are quite expensive places and have a well developed hotel industry, unlike most of the other places I’ve travelled so far – so why not spend a different kind of holidays for a change?

and finally...

It was a nice idea while it lasted. When I entered our 50 USD double room in the Naseem Hotel in Mattrah, and discovered that the room had been designed by a colour-blind 70s-fan, that there was a very noisy old-fashioned air-con, but no shower curtain, I realized that it my quest was hopeless, unless I was willing to spend a lot more money.

The White Man’s Burden and Shower Curtains

Now let me just make a short detour here: Allegedly it was the “white man’s burden” to bring civilization to the poor non-white, non-European population. Introducing democracy, capitalism, Christianity, tank tops, sneakers and McDonald’s to the rest of the world might or might not have been a good idea. What I wonder about every time I travel outside Europe is: Why has Kipling never propagated the advantages of a shower neatly separated from the rest of the bathroom? I can see many disadvantages with all the other concepts, but what is wrong with having a dry bathroom?

Anyway, so Bobby picked up the guidebook and decided that the island “Masira” would be nice place. After all, even the lonely planet claimed that it was hard to reach by public transport, so why not give it a try?

Protected: Holidays, Part III: Dolphin Watching

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Holidays, Part II: The two Sultans

On a non-related note: Can I just say that I look forward to flying home on May 15th in the middle of an (almost) global pandemic? Okay, it’s not from the epicentre of the disease as last time in 2003, but still: Fun times all around.

The Sultan of Brunei visits Muscat

All along the watchtower...

When we arrived in our hotel in Mattrah, we decided to first take stroll to actual (old) Muscat. Let me explain: Muscat is a strange city, consisting of almost separate parts: Mattrah with the souq and the harbour, old Musqat with the Sultan’s palace and some old houses, Ruwi with its modern business district and Indian inhabitants, Qurm with the whole expat community and the expensive hotels… All separated by mountains with watchtowers on it. There are even some areas that look like small fishing villages surrounded by mountains.

The corniche from Mattrah to (old) Muscat is rather scenic, but gained considerably through the fact that the road was suddenly closed down and we stumbled upon a group of men in old-fashioned uniforms.

Apparently the strapping gentlemen were preparing for the arrival of the Sultan of Brunei, and ready to march to the palace:

The Omani Army

The Omani Army's local scouts

The army marches...

... and the Bangladeshi population is cleaning up the mess left behind (by the horses)

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The Omani sultan’s loyal subjects were not too impressed, but stopped by to watch, while the Sultan of Brunei’s cheerleading team was a bit more active:

Omani

Bruneii? Bruneians? Brunei people?

Unfortunately, the actual spectacle was… well… rather unspectacular: A couple of cars driving by and that was it. Oh well…

Some car driving by. Might be one of the two sultans, but then again...