christmas eve 2007

this post was scribbled live in a little 2 inch by 2 inch handmade paper diary, bound in embossed leather - my latest south bank goody. architecty and arty at the same time.

"It's a hell-hole", a fellow passenger stated frankly. I hoped (and also assumed, a little virtuously), that she was being needlessly pessimistic, being a caucasian from the R of SA. She would be used to the smooth flashiness of European, American and South African airports. No doubt the unostentatious, yet well provided simplicity of an Arab airport had seemed less than perfect to her.

Nope. Wrong on all counts. First of all, Arabs aren't unostentatious. The Abu Dhabi airport, true to form, is all bright green and blue mosaic tiles. and, it being Christmas, with a lot of world travellers passing through, it is simply DECKED with Christmas baubles, and also holly. Perversely, all the big red and white festive signs say 'Eid Mubarak', which is alittle incongruous as a backdrop to the santa suited carollers. I cannot begin to fathom the excruciating politics behind the executive decisions about religious branding that must have gone on here.

but coming back to hell-hole-ness - the airport is a Panopticon. Circular in plan, it has two levels, with the central part of the upper level cut away. you's think immediately of an atrium, right? Nope. The (blue and green mosaic) ceiling swoops right down , like a funnel, into the 'well', to touch base precisely dead centre plan. At the base of the tunnel, duty free in concentric circles (of gold, silver, watches, perfumes, Bulgari, a pharmacist and one restaurant) removes whatever remaining ambiguity there may have been in circulation. The architect was either very very cruel, or had absolutely no sense of spatial dimensions. The circulation of people in this panopticon, is circular, tight, constrained. There are no choices. There are also no views; you see everything (nothing) from everywhere (so you're nowhere). The one possible view into the central 'well' is made horrendous by the overbearing (green and blue. mosaic.) funnel, rising up at you from below. Seats are well provided, but laid in regimental lines which offer no privacy and allow the vast family clambering out of the coffee shop to pile up right next to the sensitive single traveller, trying hard lose herself in book or blog post. It's a PRISON, i tell ya, a prison... except that in a prison, inmates can sleep. In Abu Dhabi airport, you can merely smell the neighbouring mallu's gross feet and hope to pass out.

5 minute pause in frantic scribbling later...

oops, was just chatting to a cute suid african boy, so lost my train of thought. He's coughing though, working up to a snog may not be the best idea [i. am. predator. :( ] AND he has an ipod. Fucckit, probably has girlfriend also.

Back to gaudy airport-ness then. The people on my right are coughing too, into their burkhas and all. A whole family of them has come and dumped themselves next to me. Do i look non-threatening or what?? I have to do something about this. Must look as thorny as i really am inside; no more dimpled sweetness while travelling. grrr. The family is now falling asleep, like comfy animals in a heap of comfy animals, on each others shoulders and laps.

I am rather anxious about my return journey. Have to actually spend 12 hours here! GAK. Will need solid entertainment, at least of the calibre of a Calvin and Hobbes box collection book.

The griping stopped here, because i went for another (circular) walk, all the time damning the architect who subjected humanity to this prisonlike experience. also wondering if i am snooty and/or dislike disordered crowds of people by default. i grew up in delhi, yes, but England with its queues and sorry and cold politeness feels much more real to me. london is my spiritual home then... the home of my claustrophobic, sweat-o-phobic, humanophobic, alcohol drenched, glad spirit.