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The Citizen, 2009-05-28, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, MAY 28, 2009. PAGE 5. Bonnie Gropp TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt So your investments have cratered. Your love life is a sick joke. The car engine makes a funny tickety-ping sound every time you accelerate, there’s a brassy taste in the back of your throat when you climb the stairs, your pants don’t fit, your Visa’s maxed out and there’s a note in your In Box saying the boss would like to ‘have a word’ with you after work. Look on the bright side – at least you’re not stuck in Dubai. Dubai is, not to put too fine a point on it, a mushrooming hell hole. The bottom of the empty oil barrel. The end of the world. A snake pit, except it’s too inhospitable for snakes. Mind you, that might not be your first impression of the place. Dubai perches on the edge of the Persian Gulf shimmering out of the Arabian Desert like a shiny, impossible mirage of steel and glass. It has the world’s tallest building, a seven- star hotel, a huge seaport, a brand new airport – even its own stock exchange. It has Palm Jumierah Island, a man-made archipelago of sand that added 4,000 residences and 78 kilometres to the Dubai coastline – in the form of a colossal palm tree fanning out into the Persian Gulf. One building, the wretchedly excessive 23 Marina (which may or may not be completed this year) is 89 storeys high. It contains 288 apartments, 57 of which have private swimming pools. On their balconies. Not surprisingly for a country where the temperature routinely tops out over 40 Celsius, Dubai has a thing for swimming pools. The Atlantis Hotel which opened with a launch party costing $20 million (you read right) last year, boasts a whale shark in its swimming pool. Not so long ago, it was reported that 25 per cent of all construction cranes in the world were chugging and hoisting away around the clock in Dubai. Workers, from navvies to engineers, streamed in from all over the world – so much so that they outnumbered native Arabs eight to one. The streets were chrome and steel rivers of Hummers and Mercedes. The malls were full of jet-setters and celebrities. And why not? All that oil money, right? Wrong. Number one: oil prices went south along with the rest of the world economy; number two: Dubai doesn’t have any oil anyway. It relies on real estate and well-heeled tourists – and those are very soft commodities these days. All Dubai’s got – when you remove the glitz and gloss – is sand. The bad economic news is better known outside the city limits than within because for most of the past two centuries Dubai has been ruled by the iron-fisted and pathologically conservative Al Maktoum family. It is forbidden to bad mouth Dubai in Dubai. You can spend an unspecified length of time in a very nasty jail if you indulge. But it’s not difficult to find yourself on the wrong side of a Dubai jail wall. All you have to do is lose your job. It is illegal – and punishable by imprisonment – to be unemployed in Dubai. That explains a phenomenon seen more and more in the parking complex of Al Maktoum International Airport. What you find are cars – almost new and obviously abandoned – by workers who’ve lost their jobs and had no prospects of getting another. Some of the cars have notes of apology taped to their windshields. Their ex-pat owners have fled back whence they came with whatever they could pack in a suitcase. At last count airport parking stalls held more than 3,000 unclaimed vehicles. Not surprising. Jobs in Dubai that have not outright disappeared have been downsized pay wise. Just a short while ago a civil engineer with four years experience could expect to earn 15,000 dirhams a month. Now, the maximum is 8,000 dirhams – about $2,000 U.S. Not enough in a town where the rent for even a cheesy apartment can set you back $5,000 a month. Two hundred years ago the poet Shelley wrote a poem about a vanished desert kingdom once ruled by a ‘king of kings’ named Ozymandias. All that remained of it were ‘two vast and trunkless legs of stone’ and some rubble. “Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.” Sounds like a pretty fair description of the view from downtown Dubai in the not so distant future. Arthur Black Other Views Future looking dubious for Dubai Why is the former number two man in Ontario’s New Democratic Party shilling for former Progressive Conservative prime minister Brian Mulroney and trying to put a better face on his odd behavior in accepting wads of cash from a lobbyist and failing to declare it for income tax until years later? Robin Sears, described variously as chief spokesperson, handler and mouthpiece for Mulroney during his appearances before the commission enquiring into his actions, was principal secretary to Bob Rae for much of his time as NDP leader in the 1980s and 1990s and had more power than any of its elected politicians. The most lingering memory of him was that he was not admired by MPPs or staff, who nicknamed him “Boy Stalin” and “Vlad The Impaler.” His overbearing attitude led some in the NDP to call it the “No Dissent Party.” Rae recognized Sears was not fostering harmony and as premier shipped him off to the plum job of agent general in Tokyo, with a huge salary, expenses to keep anyone dining endlessly off the finest sushi and as far away as an Ontario government could send anyone, despite opposition protests he was not equipped to handle its main responsibility of increasing trade. When Sears’s time in this sinecure was up, Rae found him work with Ontario educational TV and eventually he wound up lobbying for a Toronto public affairs company. Sears was helped to become a familiar name to politicians by appearing regularly on TV panels discussing politics on which he appeared to have lost some of his zeal for the NDP, as has his former boss, Rae, who has switched to become a prominent federal Liberal. While Mulroney was testifying at the enquiry, Sears spoke to news media almost daily trying to put a more constructive appearance on his actions than the former prime minister was able to convey. Sears jumped to Mulroney’s defense at one point by charging indignantly his chief accuser, Karlheinz Schreiber, had made “an outrageous assault on the reputation of a former prime minister.” When Mulroney almost broke down mentioning allegations made against him hurt his family, Sears explained the former prime minister had seen two reporters covering the enquiry laughing at him and, when the reporters denied this, claimed, “I’ve got pictures, but I didn’t get them precisely at the moment of giggle.” Sears said he was furious. Sears’s advocacy on behalf of the former Conservative prime minister may have surprised many, because of their earlier political differences, but also because he is a lobbyist and New Democrats often have deplored those who have worked in and around government selling their knowledge to help rich people and particularly companies make their voices heard. This gives them a huge, unfair advantage over the vast majority who cannot afford their high fees. Almost all retired Ontario premiers in recent decades have helped lobby by at least selling their names to law firms and financial institutions that lobby and aides and top civil servants leave constantly to lobby. While New Democrats deride such lobbying, there also is a well-worn path of New Democrats lobbying after they leave government. They include Rae, although as a lawyer arguing on the softwood lumber issue he has appeared to lobby only openly in various forums. Gerry Caplan, the closest adviser to Stephen Lewis when NDP leader, later advised companies on how to lobby. And another former NDP leader, Michael Cassidy, started his own lobbying firm, on the grounds, “if you can’t beat them, join them.” The most ubiquitous lobbyist currently around the legislature, Graham Murray, was a union leader and aide to Cassidy and Rae. He inserts himself uninvited into so many events organized by reporters, lobbying their guest politicians, they have asked him more than once to stay away. Sears as a lobbyist for those with money is merely following an NDP tradition and he and Mulroney are an odd couple only to those who forget New Democrats also like to get paid. Eric Dowd FFrroomm QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk The decision didn’t come easily. There was a lot to do around the house, that wasn’t getting done during the week. And with a special occasion on the horizon, these things just couldn’t be left much longer. But family duty had beckoned my husband leaving me with two choices – spend a long weekend of tedious albeit necessary drudgery or accompany him to the lake. Now, I know this may seem a no-brainer, but to say my life is currently a little overwhelming would be to say that French actor Gilles Marini is kinda cute. Obligations and appointments fill days and nights, and with a special Gropp celebration just weeks away, the pressure is on. A sideline to the beach, therefore, while certainly attractive, I knew would have me awash in guilt. How could I possibly leave behind so much responsibility, when I’m already concerned that I can’t get it all done? Time is precious, after all. Then the hedonistic side of my conscience took over, reminding me that life too is precious and opportunities such as this should not be wasted. So, I began the tiresome task of packing to set up house in a different location for a few days. And it was then that a revelation put a really pleasant spin on this decision. The work invitation included a family cottage at our disposal, which we would have to ourselves. I realized that while my husband was on the job at his nephew’s cottage next door, however, I would be left with virtually nothing but time on my hands. And so it was. With the exception of rare moments when I recalled the work I left behind, the weekend was pure bliss. The weather was chilly, but for someone intent on decompressing, perfect. Parked on the couch, I could take in the lake in all its omnipotent glory through the picture windows and watch the sun dance off the breaking surf, with as unbroken a view as if I was beside it, but without the numbing wind. Cozy under a blanket, I sipped wine, nibbled and used the time to watch some borrowed DVDs, long past overdue. Filling in the blanks between this useless but thoroughly relaxing pastime were socializing with family and shopping. The lake air, of course, both revived and relaxed allowing for some catching up on much-needed sleep. It was back to reality on Monday afternoon, and the waning hours of the holiday weekend were spent busily in menial labour. There was a good deal of running to try and make up for lost time, but nothing could chase away the feeling of calm that had wrapped itself around me. A few short days of shucking responsibility and taking the time to pamper and care for myself had done wonders to lessen mental and physical exhaustion. The English scholar Robert Burton once said, “Be not solitary, be not idle.” And I come from a long line of people who understood the value of labour and society. Duty, responsibility and hard work were instilled in me from day one. But if I’ve learned one thing in 50 plus years here, it’s that a good life is best fulfilled with balance and harmony. Too much of anything is the wrong approach, and not answering when heart, mind, body and soul call out to you can be as bad for you as a life wasted in sloth and self-indulgence. When a gift, such as my laid-back weekend, presents itself, take it. Sometimes, you just have to forget what you need to do, and instead do what needs to be done for you. NDPer fronts for Tory prime minister Do it for you Letters Policy The Citizen welcomes letters to the editor. Letters must be signed and should include a daytime telephone number for the purpose of verification only. Letters that are not signed will not be printed. 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