Dubai 04 - Copywatch

One of the great things about developing countries is the black market for counterfeit goods. The ones that you see the most are DVDs, watches and handbags.

There are various moral and legal issues associated with this, of course, but on the whole I say it’s a good thing. Take watches: no one gets hurt by this trade. The prestige watch companies have the attitude that a person who’ll buy an Omega would never buy a fake Omega, and a person who buys a fake would never buy the real thing. And it’s pretty obvious why – a real Omega costs around AU$3,000+ here, and a fake one is very obviously fake – bezels freewheel, designs are ones you’ve never seen in the catalogue, the gold doesn’t look like gold, that sort of thing.

I’d’ve thought it would be the same with handbags – what is a little padlock on a Hermes bag becomes a Chubb security lock spray painted gold on the copy – but apparently the bag companies are getting a little dark at this sincerest form of flattery.

But DVDs are what I’m in the market for. This is definitely a zero-sum game with studios losing out big time, but it serves them right for not embracing new technology and coming up with a way of distributing their product more cheaply. Meanwhile, quality films from the independent studios don’t really get a look-in, so it’s not like you’re doing a struggling artist out of his dinner. And really, if I chose to watch Snakes On A Plane, there’s no way in hell I’m going to pay even the rental price to do so. And besides, how does going to the cinema or Virgin compare to the thrill of The Deal.

It goes like this: after deciding you need to add to your video library, you head down to Karama and just wander along. Within about 10 seconds some friendly chap and fifteen or so of his mates converge on you and ask if you’d like a “copywatch” (no thanks), sunglasses (no thanks), a handbag (for the ladies – no thanks), or DVDs (yes please!)

And now the adventure begins. If you’ve said yes to the wrong guy you get taken around the corner to the spot under some stairs, stopping first at a fire hose-reel cupboard to retrieve a plastic shopping bag full of pirated movies, while your man’s mate acts as a lookout for the fuzz.

If you say yes to the right bloke, though, or to someone selling copywatches or handbags, you get led away to a shop (eg, women’s ware), which is possibly located some distance away, and/or up several flights of rickety stairs in a residential building, down the back of the shop to the secret door and up some stairs into the attic where they store their inventory of undergarments and dodgy goods. You might even meet an American getting ripped off. The first time you do this you feel a little dodgy, like you’re doing a drug deal, or something.

But then you forget all that as you peruse their wares. Typically blockbuster fare or sometimes TV series. A lot of the goods come out of Europe so the cover might by written in French or Russian, but most comes from China and the copy on the cover is alone almost worth the purchase price. Usually the précis on the back is about the film – but not always – and usually it makes sense – but not always. This is from Cinderella Man:

The big recession of American industry is period, man cloth gram of New York pull the match gram for the sake of living,For feeding the family to attend the boxing match to acquire the cash award, did not thought of to therefore become the generation boxing champion.

The quality is generally good, unless you get a 5-in-1 disc, in which case the video is rotten, or you get one that's still in the cinemas and you're more likely to get a bootleg (ie, camcorder in the cinema) rather than a pirate (ie, copied from the master). In this case, the sound will blow and probably get increasingly out of sync with the action as the film goes on. This can ruin an otherwise damned awful film like Superman or X-men III.

Probably the best thing about pirate movies, in this country at least, is the lack of bewildering censorship. I recently picked up a (legal) copy of Enter The Dragon, to expand my Bruce Lee collection, and was stunned by what was left out. For example, Lee fights O'Hara and kicks his arse. The bit where O'Hara smashes two bottles together and charges Lee is completely cut and suddenly the guy is dead on the floor. Han says he deserved it for his treachery and you're thinking "WTF?" Or Li fights Bolo and, mid-fight, Bolo's suddenly lying on ground, deader than A-line flares with pockets in the knees. Or deader than the continuity in Goldmember which was on TV the other night, minus the jokes (eg, the entire Japanese twins scene. I turned off after that.)

So it'll be back to Karama for me.

Dubai 03 - Jumeira Jane

Dubai is full of people from all over the world and so it's a great opportunity to mix with different nationalities. I have friends here from the Middle East, India, South Africa, NZ, USA, UK and Europe. Not so Jumeira Jane.

Jumeira Jane is the archetypal spoilt housewife who has suddenly found herself relatively well off. Out here with Hubby (who we can assume is on a good wicket – Jumeira is kind of like Armadale in Melbourne, Double Bay in Sydney, New Farm in Brisbane, and I can’t think of a London equivalent, but JJ and her friends are strong in number in the Springs, too), she finally has time to do all those things she’s always wanted to. Like flaunt her relative wealth in the most tactless ways possible.

For example, Jumeira Jane doesn’t do the shopping herself, that’s too far beneath her now she’s suddenly near the top of the social ladder. And obviously the maid can’t do it on her own, (she’d have to drive), so they both go to the shops, JJ points to what she wants, and the maid loads the cart. Sometimes poor Jane can’t afford a maid, so she gets one of the store clerks to help her with that big heavy trolley instead. And there’s no way she’ll load those bags into the SUV herself! Bags of shopping are like kids: JJ pays for them, but the maid looks after them.

(There’s currently a bit of a stink in the Letters to the Editor of the local rag: One JJ’s maid was refused entry to the country club and JJ had to look after her kids herself. She claimed racism as the maid was part of the family after eight years; everyone claims she ought to look after her own little terrors and no one wants the club overrun by screaming bastards while the parents are off playing golf.)

Jumeira Jane is typically British and, I think, would be right at home on Lamma Island in Hong Kong, or the Costa del Sol in Spain, hanging out with other poms and complaining about the food: “I’m not eating that foreign muck. I want fish and chips and a lager.” Don’t get me wrong, not all Brits here are like this, just like not all Americans are like the stereotypical American tourist, and not all Aussies are unsophisticated yobbos. But there are enough of them to warrant a stereotype of their own and a catchy name. And it’s not an exclusively British thing, either: but the Brits outnumber the other Western expats, and I don’t think the non-Westerns are as ostentatious about their money.

It’s a shame, really, because I think they’re missing out on a great experience by mixing with their own pretty much exclusively. It’s important to assimilate, if only to get something other than mindless rants in the Letters To The Editor pages of the local paper. (I seem to be doing a stirling job of integrating. Just last night Ben told me how well I was doing when he said: “I can’t believe you did that, you drive like a bloody Arab!”)

* * * WARNING: DESCENT INTO POLITICALLY INCORRECT RANT * * *
* * * Do not read the following if you are easily offended by other people's views * * *

And picking up on the Letters To The Ed thing: is it me, or do Muslims go on a bit too much about the things they don’t like? Like racism:

1. The paper publishes an ad for a skin whitening cream (ie, anti-spray-on-tan) and it's racist.
   
2. A British MP recommends a debate on veils and suddenly he’s a racist.
   
3. If you're a Westerner living over here you need to be respectful of local customs, but if you're a Muslim in the West, local customs (and sometimes laws) are irrelevant.
   

Or the issue of violence:

1. The Pope, in a lecture on theology, quotes some dead guy in what is essentially a footnote, and suddenly Muslims the world over demand his death and kill a nun because he dared to suggest they were violent (which he didn’t).
   
2. I write a personal opinion on a barely known blog, and I’m forced to wonder if I should.
   
3. America invades Iraq and it goes pear shaped - howls of invective from the Muslim world … protests from the West. A suicide bomber takes out a bus full of commuters – howls of invective from the West… silence (complicity?) from the Muslim world.
   

Here's my thought for the day: Is Islam a peaceful religion? If so, are Muslims peace loving? If so, why don't they write better letters to the ed? And WHY do they constantly bring EVERYTHING back to the issue of religion? Skin whitening cream is NOT a subtle attempt to overthrow Islam in the Middle East!!!

* * * END OF RANT * * *

And end of this post.