Disaster Breeds Nostalgia
1 Comments Published by Tom Gara on Sunday, December 21 at Sunday, December 21, 2008.
For the second time this year, three undersea fibre-optic cables that connect the Middle East to the outside world have been cut.
Sure, it is weird how these cables, hundreds of kilometres apart, can all be severed simultaneously. The conventional wisdom, which I am pushing to the masses as part of the day job, is that it was an undersea earthquake.
Some people are busting into conspiracy theories, others are showing serious YouTube withdrawal symptoms. I'm getting nostalgic.
You see, the last Great Middle Eastern Internet Blackout happened during my final days in Cairo. I was in a strange period of Zen-acceptance, saying goodbye to the city and people I love, filled with big questions and confused excitement about what life in the Gulf, and at The National, would be like.
The time of the Great Cairo Exodus was upon us, with a bunch of people all saying goodbye at the same time. We had a weekend of supreme loveliness at a nice little place outside Cairo, then came back into town and I left pretty much the next day.
But before the weekend, there was need for some kind of goodbye drinks. People who lack my semi-autistic ability to be totally unaware of the emotional needs of their friends would have organised this a couple of weeks in advance, complete with phone calls, text messages, gentle reminders, etc.
Not me. It got to late on a Tuesday afternoon when I realised we needed to do something the next night, my last free night in town. I went downstairs to the internet cafe (the internet in our house was out) to send out an email / facebook invite.
And the I found out that Egypt didn't have any internet.
There were sporadic connections, each lasting a few seconds, occassionally letting you through to a site before disconnecting. But it was hamster-powered internet, a series of small furry animals scurrying around little wheels powering the slowest most unreliable connections on earth.
In two frustrating hours I managed to get out an email and a facebook invite. But I was pretty sure nobody would get the mail. And I was pretty sure the whole going away would die a sorry, disorganised death, starved at the hands of its neglectful master.
What I understimated what the power of Cairo's vast informal energy to make things happen despite massive failures of infrastructure. This is a city that turns the lack of a garbage collection system into a giant informal economy, a place where law and order is managed not by the policemen and governors, but by a collection of doormen, family matriarchs and shopkeepers.
Was it going to let the lack of modern communications get in the way of a final night of goodbye's and frosty cold Stellas? Like fuck it wasn't.
Everybody in the known universe turned up. They didn't know why, they just appeared,in a steady stream, drawn to the Greek Club by a the force of thousands of years of victory over disorganisation. How did they find out about it? Who knows. Did we rock out? Hell yes.
There was fine beers shared between the best of buddies:
A fine game of pin the grope on the Megan:
An unexpected, extremely awesome surprise visitor:
And massive koala love
What more can you ask for? Then we left for a perfect weekend, one of history's great weekends, culminating in us jumping for joy in the gorgeous fading light of a perfect day:
Sure, it is weird how these cables, hundreds of kilometres apart, can all be severed simultaneously. The conventional wisdom, which I am pushing to the masses as part of the day job, is that it was an undersea earthquake.
Some people are busting into conspiracy theories, others are showing serious YouTube withdrawal symptoms. I'm getting nostalgic.
You see, the last Great Middle Eastern Internet Blackout happened during my final days in Cairo. I was in a strange period of Zen-acceptance, saying goodbye to the city and people I love, filled with big questions and confused excitement about what life in the Gulf, and at The National, would be like.
The time of the Great Cairo Exodus was upon us, with a bunch of people all saying goodbye at the same time. We had a weekend of supreme loveliness at a nice little place outside Cairo, then came back into town and I left pretty much the next day.
But before the weekend, there was need for some kind of goodbye drinks. People who lack my semi-autistic ability to be totally unaware of the emotional needs of their friends would have organised this a couple of weeks in advance, complete with phone calls, text messages, gentle reminders, etc.
Not me. It got to late on a Tuesday afternoon when I realised we needed to do something the next night, my last free night in town. I went downstairs to the internet cafe (the internet in our house was out) to send out an email / facebook invite.
And the I found out that Egypt didn't have any internet.
There were sporadic connections, each lasting a few seconds, occassionally letting you through to a site before disconnecting. But it was hamster-powered internet, a series of small furry animals scurrying around little wheels powering the slowest most unreliable connections on earth.
In two frustrating hours I managed to get out an email and a facebook invite. But I was pretty sure nobody would get the mail. And I was pretty sure the whole going away would die a sorry, disorganised death, starved at the hands of its neglectful master.
What I understimated what the power of Cairo's vast informal energy to make things happen despite massive failures of infrastructure. This is a city that turns the lack of a garbage collection system into a giant informal economy, a place where law and order is managed not by the policemen and governors, but by a collection of doormen, family matriarchs and shopkeepers.
Was it going to let the lack of modern communications get in the way of a final night of goodbye's and frosty cold Stellas? Like fuck it wasn't.
Everybody in the known universe turned up. They didn't know why, they just appeared,in a steady stream, drawn to the Greek Club by a the force of thousands of years of victory over disorganisation. How did they find out about it? Who knows. Did we rock out? Hell yes.
There was fine beers shared between the best of buddies:
A fine game of pin the grope on the Megan:
An unexpected, extremely awesome surprise visitor:
And massive koala love
What more can you ask for? Then we left for a perfect weekend, one of history's great weekends, culminating in us jumping for joy in the gorgeous fading light of a perfect day:
very sweet Kenny