Poolside in the middle of February
There isn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun is shining bright and hot here in Doha.
Yeah, I could get used to this.
Greetings from Doha
I made it.
After nearly 20 hours in the air, 9 time zones, 4 feature-length films, 3 airports, 2 mid-flight dinners and 1 missed connection, I’ve finally arrived in Doha, Qatar safe, sound and sane.
My home for the next two weeks will be the Doha Marriott. I’ve already sampled the breakfast buffet. It’ll do just fine. The fitness centre is also nice. And the pool is a dream. All in all, it ain’t too shabby.
The Internet connection, however, is causing me no small headache. Aside from the fact it isn’t free (disgraceful nowadays, in my opinion), it’s also horrendously buggy. It doesn’t like Safari one bit. I’m pretty sure it’s going to give Firefox the boot any minute now, too.
Still, if the Internet is my biggest complaint, I’m doing okay.
The tournament doesn’t start for another day or so. (I always like to arrive a few days in advance to recover from the jet lag and get my bearings.) Thankfully, I long ago mastered the art of doing as little as possible. And so, with the full knowledge it’s the middle of winter back home, I’ll soon be relocating myself to the poolside patio to soak up the sun and sea air.
Life is hard, eh?
24 hours to Doha
I’m currently sitting in the departure lounge of Winnipeg’s James A. Richardson International Airport.
The next time I set foot outside I’ll be half a world away, a stone’s throw from the Persian Gulf, in sunny Doha, Qatar.
My journey will be a fairly direct one, with a mere two stops: Toronto (Pearson) and London (Heathrow).
The uncharacteristically friendly gate agent from Air Canada (I know, weird) kindly seated me on the aisle of an exit row for the Toronto-London leg. He made my day.
Not making my day: the jerk sitting next to me here in the lounge who has decided to remove his shoes.
Attention Jerk: your feet smell like well-worn hockey equipment.
Here’s hoping the gate agent and the smelly feet guy cancel each other out, thereby restoring the universe’s cosmic balance and ensuring a (reasonably) easy trip.
Rest assured, I’ll let you know either way.
Countdown to Qatar
In a little over 48 hours, I’ll be saying sayonara to the snow banks, farewell to the frigid temperatures, adios to the Arctic cold.
No, I’m not heading south to some all-inclusive resort. Nope. I’ll be heading east. To the Middle East, in fact. Doha, Qatar, to be exact.
Qatar?
Yes. Qatar.
For a holiday?
Not quite.
I’ll be representing Canada as one of the country’s official adjudicators at the 22nd World Schools Debating Championships.
Since 1988, the World Schools Debating Championships have been held annually, hosting high school students from around the world in what is tantamount to the Olympics of High School Debating. I had the privilege of debating for Canada at the competition ten years ago – and instantly fell in love with the event, its ideals, and the people it brought together.
My involvement with debating and public speaking, however, started much, much earlier.
I delivered my first speech at the tender age of six and, frankly, never looked back. By junior high, I was routinely participating in local debating competitions; by senior high, competitions across Canada. (Editor’s note: Self-congratulatory statements to follow. Apologies in advance.) I enjoyed a fair bit of success, too: I was named the Canadian champion in 1999, won the World Public Speaking and Debating Championships held in Cyprus in 2000, and, as I’ve just mentioned, earned a place on the Canadian High School Debating Team representing Canada at the World Schools Debating Championships in Pittsburgh, USA that same year.
Pittsburgh. Not the most pleasant of places in February, I know. But the competition: it was extraordinary.
The caliber of my competitors and the depth of knowledge required to compete on an equal footing with them; the sense of camaraderie that came from living, working and debating amongst a 5-person team; the young people – just like me! – that had come from every conceivable corner of the planet to debate in an atmosphere of respect, understanding, friendship and in the spirit of healthy competition: I had never previously experienced anything like it in my life – and I was hooked.
So, when I graduated from high school and went on to university, rather than continuing my own debating career I chose instead to assist future Canadian teams and began my second career as an international judge. A decision I’ve never once regretted.
In the ensuing decade I’ve travelled to Singapore, Lima, Stuttgart, Cardiff, Seoul, Washington, Athens, and, in a few days time, Doha.
I’ve met a lot of wonderful people along the way. Judged many outstanding debates (and some less-than-outstanding ones, too). Toured ancient ruins, demilitarized zones and national parliaments. Seen the insides of scores of high school gymnasiums, libraries, lunch rooms and theatres. In short, I’ve had a blast.
But ten years is a long time. And, in this year of new chapters, new beginnings, it’s time to bring this volume of my life – Ade, Kris; Debating and Public Speaking, 2000-2010 – to a close.
Thankfully, I can’t think of a better way to go than with this forthcoming championship, the largest yet; surrounded by friends; in pursuit of such noble goals as free speech and international understanding.
Tom Ford, is there an artistic medium you can’t master?
The film. Financed and directed by fashion designer extraordinaire Tom Ford in his directorial debut. Adapted from Christopher Isherwood’s novel of the same name. I had the privilege of seeing it yesterday afternoon – and make no mistake, it was a privilege indeed to fork over the $10 to do so.
There are a great many reasons why I loved this film: the set design, sumptuous and meticulously executed; the musical score, hauntingly beautiful; the cinematography, hypnotic.
Most of all, however, I loved this film for the performances, most especially Colin Firth’s. His was, to me, one of the most gut-wrenching, yet beautiful performances I’ve seen in years. (It’s no wonder he’s been nominated for a slew of awards; they are deserved, absolutely.) With his face alone, he conveys such pain, such anguish – and he does so with subtlety and with grace. It’s hard not to take your eyes off him – despite Ford’s best efforts.
Of course, Firth isn’t the only stand-out: Julianne Moore, Matthew Goode and Nicholas Hoult all deliver equally brilliant performances and compliment Firth’s wonderfully. Like Firth, each of them is restrained, thoughtful, delicate. (It’s a welcome change from the Pacino-esque bravado often favoured in Hollywood.)
Make no mistake, however; this is a depressing film. If you see it – and you should – be prepared to spend the rest of your day alone, exhausted and emotionally spent.
However, in the quietude of your misery, with the images replaying themselves in your mind, be prepared to be thankful, as well. For Tom Ford, an artist in the truest sense of the word, has created a thing of beauty. And you were lucky enough to see it.
Fascinating
As I often do when travelling, I purchased a few magazines in the airport before my recent trip to Las Vegas. Among them was the latest edition of Wired. In it was an article about Thorium. It was a fascinating read.
The gist: imagine all the benefits of nuclear power with none of the risks.
Too good to be true? Not so, says Richard Martin.
If he’s right, to borrow a phrase from Peter Griffin, “why are we not funding this?”
Vegas!
My brother and I spent the weekend in Las Vegas. Neither of us is richer for it (I’m a terrible gambler and my brother had terrible luck), but we had a fantastic time all the same.
We stayed at The Venetian. Like so many megaliths along The Strip, this one had a “theme.” You guessed it: Venice. (It even had a canal!)
What struck me most peculiar about this Venice, however, was the smell of bitter orange – the Venetian’s signature scent, if my olfactory nerves are still firing correctly. While I’ve never been to the actual Venice, I suspect it doesn’t smell at all like oranges, bitter or otherwise.
All the same, despite that cloying odour every time I entered the building, stepped into an elevator or washed my hair, I have no complaints about our stay.
Because we’re both foodies (which is a polite way of saying my brother and I really like to eat), we were both pretty excited about the seemingly-endless number of restaurants located at our hotel and its conjoined twin, The Palazzo. I particularly enjoyed our meals at Joachim Splichal’s Pinot Brasserie and David Burke’s eponymous joint. Both offered impeccable service and top-notch food, in the French and American traditions respectively.
We also chose to take in Cirque du Soleil’s tribute to the Beatles, Love. Thank goodness we did. It was, without doubt, one of the most incredible things either of us had ever seen.
The costumes, the artistry, the acrobatics, the music!
We were so blown away by the spectacle, we saw it a second time. It was that good.
Oh sure, we gambled, too. I mostly stuck to the penny slots – losing the complimentary credits afforded to me by the hotel in a record-setting time.
We also watched a lot of football. Which, I know, seems like a waste of time considering we were in Las Vegas. It was, however, the NFL’s divisional play-offs. (How were we to know three of the four games would be blow-outs and the fourth a surprising yet unsatisfying upset?) Moreover, there was something strangely exciting about watching sports in a city in which you could bet on every play, every point. (It was also a great excuse to sample a variety of American micro-brews; Fat Tire being my favourite.)
Sadly, we left a good many things on our to-see/do list come Sunday night, including a trip to the Hoover Dam. On the plus side, WestJet offers direct flights from Winnipeg, which means my brother and I will undoubtedly find ourselves back there soon enough to clear up some of that unfinished business – and likely catch Cirque’s Love for a third time.
What’s wrong with the shovel?
I’ve noticed a distressing trend this winter: where once the shovel was the plucky suburbanite’s best weapon against a snow-filled driveway, now it’s the leaf-blower.
I wish I were kidding.
Is this not yet another perfect example of our wretched excess, our lazy ways, our addiction to petroleum?
I don’t know, nor do I want to get all sanctimonious. I guess I just find it a little ridiculous. After all, shovels are cheap and the power required to push them free — if you’re the one doing the pushing.
Better still, I’ve always thought shovelling the driveway is a great way to get some fresh air and a little excercise during an otherwise sedentary, sheltered season.
My mistake.
My favourite albums of 2009
Year-end lists are trite, I know. I promise this is the only one I’ll make. It’s not about movies or news stories or gaffes or tween gossip. It’s about music. Specifically, my favourite albums of 2009.
So, lets get to it.
In no particular order, they are:
Don’t Stop
Annie
This offering by Norwegian pop sensation Annie is sickly sweet – in a good way. Listening to her album is like licking the spatula you’ve just used to mix a big ol’ bowl of icing. So bad, but so good.
Also good: the cover art. Even if you don’t like Norwegian pop (your loss), surely you can appreciate that cover. I mean, look at it. That chick is so cool she can write her name with light. Amazing. Like the tunes on her album.
Touchdown
Brakes
There’s no mystery here. Brighton’s Brakes have assembled a good ol’ fashion indie rock album. The kind of album you could throw on during a car trip, while re-paiting your den a brighter hue, or when it’s raining outside and you refuse to be bummed out by it. You get it, right?
Whatever. This album is good. I like it. It’s on my list of favourites for 2009. Deal with it.
My Maudlin Career
Camera Obscura
Where have you been all my life, Camera Obscura? You’re a delight! You’ve managed to capture the feeling that comes over me when summer has arrived, the air is warm, it’s a Friday night, I’m wearing a linen jacket and shorts, and I’m well into a bottle of chilled Chablis.
Thank you, Camera Obscura. And thank you to the “French Navy” you so marvellously sing about on your album. (It’s my favourite track.)
LP
Discovery
Hoo-haw! What a romp!
Yup, this album is bitchin’. Electronic pop at its best. Which is doubly remarkable, considering this album is Discovery’s first.
I’m particularly fond of the eighth track, “I Want You Back.” It’s an homage to the Jackson Five’s, “One More Chance.” If MJ were still kickin’, I’d like to think he’d be pleased with the effort. I know I am.
Three
Joel Plaskett
Joel Plaskett. Nova Scotian. Indie rocker. Obsessed with the number three. I dig it.
I also dig his latest album; a three-disc effort. It’s chock-a-block full of über-Canadian ditties. And what Canadian can resist jingoistic tuneage? Not this Canadian! (Case in point: of the 452 artists and 804 albums in my iTunes Library, nothing has received more airtime than Canadian troubadour, Gordon Lightfoot.)
But of course, you non-Canadians are probably thinking, “What about me? Will I like this Joel Plaskett fellow? I know nothing of Canada except for the igloos, dog sleds, and dope.”
My answer: you will like him, yes you will. Because good music knows no boundaries, be they political, linguistic, geographic, or otherwise. So do yourself a favour, pick up this album, head out to your nearest sugar shack, crack open a bottle of Canadian Club, and let the good times roll.
Battle Studies
John Mayer
Don’t judge me. I happen to enjoy John Mayer. And I think his fourth album is very good.
While it’s been out for less than two months, I’ve managed to listen to it from start to finish numerous times. (Granted, it clocks in at just over 45 minutes.) Yes, it’s a little uneven. Some tracks are stronger than others. In all, however, there’s enough good stuff to keep you coming back.
I particularly enjoy Mayer’s duet with Taylor Swift on the lovely, “Half of My Heart.” (This doesn’t count as tween gossip, by the way.) Their voices compliment each other surprisingly well. Seriously. (I said, don’t judge me!)
Grand
Matt & Kim
If fun had a soundtrack, it would be Matt & Kim’s, Grand.
Many a morning on my walk to work, I’d listen to this album. It put me in a good mood. It also made me want to walk past my office to the nearest bar, plug my iPod into their PA system, and spend the day rocking out, bottle of Jack in hand.
I regret never doing that.
Years of Refusal
Morrissey
Oh, Morrissey. So ironically miserable – or is it miserably ironic? Either way, Years of Refusal is sinewy, gritty, and damn good.
From the first few bars of the opening track, “Something is Squeezing my Skull,” through to the last licks from the closing track, “I’m OK by Myself,” Steven Patrick Morrissey delivers a genuine tour-de-force of grim cynicism.
Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix
Phoenix
Oh yeah. How could I not include this kick-ass number from France’s hottest pop sensation? Sure, they’ve already licensed their stuff to Cadillac. (Odd, since they sound more like an Audi TT than they do an Escalade, but I digress.) Still, this album is solid, from start to finish.
Vive la France!
In and Out of Control
The Raveonettes
Whoa. I don’t know what happened between their last album, Lust Lust Lust, and this one, but whatever it was it definitely helped this Danish duo kick it up a notch.
Despite the myriad macabre subjects they cover (see: Rape; Suicide; Substance Abuse; Auto Theft; Death), Sune Rose and Sharin manage to infuse their tracks with a touch of whimsy and humour. I appreciate that, which is why I say this: when life throws you a lemon, listen to this album.
Oohs and Aahs
Say Hi
Picture this: you’re sitting on your friends’ back deck. It’s spring, so you’re still wearing a sweater. It’s evening. Nine-ish. Or even closer to ten. Between mouthfuls of this delicious, yet mysterious dip set out for you and the other guests, you hear music. It’s coming from the kick-ass outdoor speakers hanging from the eaves. It’s a band. They sound familiar.
“Who are these guys? They sound familiar,” you say, cracker crumbs falling out of your mouth onto your sweater.
They’re Say Hi. You’ve never heard them before. But you like them. You feel like they’ve been with you all your life. And listening to them makes you feel like everything’s gonna be okay.
Actor
St. Vincent
Gosh. Where to begin?
If you’ve been following the links I’ve embedded for each of these albums (which take you to the albums’ entries on Wikipedia, by the way), you’d already know two interesting things about this album: 1) it was created using Apple’s GarageBand application; and 2) Woody Allen’s movies and Disney’s animated features served as inspiration. Cool, eh? I thought so.
However, you should know I was unaware of both of these factoids when I first listened to the album. Moreover, knowing both doesn’t really change my opinion of it, either: I think it’s lovely.
Now We Can See
The Thermals
A little bit punk + a little bit rock-and-roll + a little bit indie hipster = this album.
Q.E.D.
Okay, so I was never that good at math. Sue me. But before you do, give this album a listen. Because I’ll be entering it into evidence in my defence, and I’m confident the judge, once he or she’s played it, will side with me.
So there.
xx
The xx
I know I said this list was in no particular order. (Actually, it’s alphabetical by artist.) Despite this fact, it’s hard not to read something into the fact that this album, xx, is the last on the list. This would make it my #1 album, if you subscribe to the Letterman Theory of Lists. While I won’t be so bold as to confirm your suspicion, I won’t deny it either.
***
Honourable Mention:
Two Weeks Last Summer
Various Artists
You’ve probably never heard of this release. That’s because it never was. This one was compiled by my friend and incomparable music afficianado, Ryan. It’s a mélange of good stuff, including hits from The Ramones, The Cars, Iggy Pop, Jesus and Mary Chain, Cheap Trick, The Pursuit of Happiness, Sonic Youth, New Order, The Pixies, and Smashing Pumpkins.
Of course, not a single one of the songs in this digital mix tape was released in 2009, which is why I couldn’t include it in the aforementioned list. But I include it all the same because my friend Ryan deserves mention in this post. Were it not for him and his stellar musical tastes, I’d have had precious little to listen to this past year. After all, it was his advice and guidance that led me to the albums I’ve discussed, and many others I haven’t. (John Mayer being the one exception. Don’t judge me, damn it!)
Perfunctory post about Avatar
Yeah, I saw it. I’m glad I did, too. Avatar is every bit as good as most critics have said it is.
Granted, I had a spitting headache after the film, which I chalk up to my eyes’ inexperience with the 3D visuals; however, that doesn’t take anything away from the film itself, which was glorious.
Whether or not you’re a fan of science fiction, if you’re a fan of movies I encourage you to see it.
As Roger Ebert said, “Once again, [Cameron] has silenced the doubters by simply delivering an extraordinary film.”
Extraordinary indeed, Roger. Extraordinary indeed.
