Thanksgiving Thoughts 2010

AOG, Barcelona

I think it is a wonderful thing about my life that I've been lucky enough to have lived in many different places. 

From everywhere I've lived, a little something has stuck. In the case of my childhood and youth, Thanksgiving, as is celebrated in the US, has stuck. 

Not just in my life, in my family's life too.

Yesterday I called my mother and sister to wish them a happy Thanksgiving. I contacted friends in the US to do the same. I wished everyone on Facebook a Happy St. Turkey' day. And I flew to Barcelona to be with my partner on this day.

Of course, to most people in Spain (sorry, make that Europe), the idea of Thanksgiving just means the old cliché about Pilgrims and Indians eating a turkey.

I can see their point. 

Cultural relativism is still alive and well.

For me, it had nothing to do with a Turkey. In fact, we had dinner at a Chinese restaurant. But, just before we started to eat, I pinky-held my partner's hands and gave thanks, in English.

Funny things about languages and memory. And feelings. I remember some things in one language, and others in another. And some in both.

Like my mobile number in Spain which I know only in Spanish, but my partner's number I know by heart only in English.

Similarly, yesterday I said thank  you in that language. Had I been forced to do it in Spanish, I would have had to practice before hand.

But the thing about this post, is that I had to think for a moment about the things I am grateful for. I think this year it was not a case of just going through the motions. I don't think it ever is. 

This is a link to what I wrote about Thanksgiving last year. 

Funny that both then and now I chose to mention the holiday.

Every year I've spent in the UK, I managed to gather a group of friends to celebrate Thanksgiving. And then I would meet my family to do much the same whenever possible. 

Of course for us, Thanksgiving day is more like Thanksgiving week. Just like birthdays are birthweeks and Christmas Day is a prolonged festivity.

It was not like this when we were kids, but modern life has this "feature" whereby you want to do one thing, and it ensures things develop in a different direction. 

So for us, what became important was not so much the day itself, more the celebration of an occasion which mean something important, never mind the date itself.

This weekend I am planning to have some friends over here in Barcelona and celebrate with them Thanksgiving.

So yesterday, I gave thanks for many things. For being able to have someone like my partner to have dinner with and celebrate the day; for having a loving family to whom wish a Happy Thanksgiving to; for being in good health (or at least alive!); for being happy (at least at that moment).

Yesterday, a good friend of mine posted this quote from the deceased Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño, on Facebook:

"I have been happy almost everyday of my life, at least for a little while, even in the most adverse circumstances".

I can't help but think about it ever since I read it. 

Isn't it true that we are happy, even for a short while, even on our worst days? I guess I never stopped to think about it. 

Even when I'm having a bad day. Or a bad week (can we say decade?), it is also true that, for short spurts of time, I am happy.

And for this too I gave thanks. For the ability to see things a little different.

Of prayers and wishes

AOG, Madrid

The year is almost over, but the worse thing is that Christmas is almost upon us. 

The last time I was in London, the lights were up on Oxford street. 

So that's about two months of lights and decorations. The season is in full swing once again.

However, Christmas always makes me think about those people who will have to "bear" the celebrations once more. 

I am thinking about those people who will not be able to fully participate in the festivities. 

People who wish they had the money to buy all the goodies on show. 

Money to buy a little bit of happiness. Never mind money, sometimes just a job will do.

Here in Madrid, the season too has started. But in a different way. 

I once read that the great American poet, Maya Angelou, said this about luck: "If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform one million realities".

You see, one of the typical things people in Spain do this time of year, is buy a lottery ticket. It is a national custom. The Spanish, like the Americans, are obsessed with luck.

My partner buys me a ticket as a Christmas  present. I think it is kind of nice that someone gives you as a gift the opportunity to acquire a lot of money.

In Madrid's Gran Vía boulevard, there is a certain lottery vendor known as 'Doña Manolita' who acquired its fame years ago for  being a place where a few winning tickets were sold over the years.

Spain at present has Europe's biggest unemployment rate as well as the largest number of people unemployed in the developed world to the tune of 4.5 million people. 

Yesterday on the paper, as well as on television, there were stories about how long the lines were and how they crowded out other shoppers in the area. 

I walked past it this past weekend and the line was something else. More than ever, the Spanish need their luck to change. Or, barring that, just extra cash will do quite nicely, thank you. Can we blame them?

It is easy to see that in time of despair, some of us detach our thoughts from our mundane lives and throw ourselves into the arms of fortune in the hope that, as Angelou wrote, a single fantasy will change one million realities. 

We all want change, though we all fear it. Of course, the change we like is the change we can control. The change we work for and expect as the fruit of our toil and labor. 

Yet I remember the eternal Chinese caveat: "Be careful what you wish for, it just might happen". 

And lets not forget the great Spanish mystic, St. Teresa of Avila, who wrote: "More tears are shed over answered prayers than  unanswered ones". 

So, as per usual, we have something to fear from the unknown and we are warned, in both Chinese and Western cultures, not to want to change things too much. Not to ask for much. 

Not to desire much, just in case. Just in case we get it. 

And then what? Perhaps it is more about not wanting too much, and using fear to try and make us happier because, more than likely, our prayers won't be answered, and our wishes won't be granted. 

Yet, even though this might be the case, we choose to envelop a little bit of knowledge, or mundane philosophy if you like, in  transcendental ideas. 

Is it that the Earthly world is just too real for us to cope with it fully?
I don't know. 

All I know is that the year is coming to an end.

That 2010 will eventually be forgotten, for better or for worse. That I will pray and wish for change, and that nothing out of the ordinary will happen. 

I will not wake up a millionaire from just wishful thinking. 

Or from buying a lottery ticket. 

Of course, I might just buy the winning number. 

One never knows!

That is why we call it a game of chance. 

The online dictionary defines the word thus: "The unknown and unpredictable element in happenings that seems to have no assignable cause."

No assignable cause. 

Much like what is done when one prays. When one makes a wish.

Work in progress

AOG, Madrid

Today I applied for a job. I had to write a letter. This is what I wrote.

"Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn once wrote "Man has set for himself the goal of conquering the world but in the processes loses his soul".

 From the beginning of the modern era, the common man has been caught in between politics and technology, both of which have harmed and aided him in almost equal parts. The anonymity of the Middle Ages was swept away by the arrival of the modern state. Today, everywhere, Human Rights violations are the rule, rather than the exception.

Organisations such as the Red Cross have always sided with the common man, and have utilised technology in his/her favour. My personal motivation is to help out this Amazing organisation in the best way I know how: by distributing is message in the best possible way.

In our globalised society, where common people are increasingly challenging the "powers that be" by uploading images from a mobile phone, accessing the Internet and writing about abuses and crimes in their communities, I am convinced that we need a globalising and globalised message. And here the ICRC can be of great help. Ironically, man alone cannot face mankind.

One that brings not just hope, but help. As  Leo Buscaglia wrote, "the opposite of love is not hate - it's apathy. It's not giving a damn".

Professionally, I have always believed that free speech is one of humanity's most basic rights. It is key to my work. Without it, my profession becomes a hoax.

Giving a voice to those that need help is a task much greater than I can achieve by myself. However, by working for the ICRC, the task is, though certainly not smaller, it is at least doable.

These are the reasons why I would welcome the chance to work for the ICRC, because it helps me to marry my professional and personal interests into one."

I don't know why I'm sharing this, but I thought I had to. 

Baby 2010

AOG, Barcelona

A new baby brings with it so many things. So many things I never knew about. Mostly because I've never had a new baby before in my life.

The last time a baby entered my life, I was 3 and a half, and that baby was my sister. And I was just a toddler then, so I recall very little.

Ever since then, the only babies I've had in my life have been sporadic affairs. Friends of friends, or my parent's friends. Mostly it has been children my age, or a bit older/younger. 

But never a baby that was particularly pertinent to me.

But things have changed. Last August, my partner's brother and his wife had a baby. 

Upon our return from Istanbul we went to spend a few days with them at her parent's place just outside of Valladolid. And I was amazed.

Since then, especially this week, I've spent more time with him, and all I can say is that this baby is special. 

Lovely. Amazing. Yes, babies are amazing things. And he is. This baby is just awesome in every way.

I don't normally write like this, but I'm head over heels in love with this little person. I can't help it.

At least one other idiot

AOG, Madrid

Customer service from hell. That is what my friend just told me on the phone. Courtesy of Iberia Airlines. He called, it seems, to confirm that the airline had his and his partner's names correctly, which they didn't since one of them said "Ms" on the ticket. 

The lady on the other side of the phone line, ("for help in English, press one"), after listening to what my friend had said, merely replied -slightly irritated- that if they wanted to do a prebooking change, they had to contact their agent.

So my friend (Taurus) explained to the lady (inept) once again that he merely wanted to confirm that they had their names right. They are flying down to Uruguay for Christmas and New Years (And I so envy them!). 

Again, she didn't listen to a word he said and just told him that if he wanted to prebook his ticket, he had to contact his agent.

Now, if you can read what my friend was saying, and you can read her replies, it is obvious that she wasn't listening to anything he was saying.

How often in life does that happen? I would venture that it happens quite a lot. 

I now that very often I respond to what people say, but somehow, things get "lost in translation" from the time they leave the person's mouth to the time they reach my brain. They say one thing, and I hear another.

It is so easy to get confused. I often tell Madame Mère to listen to what I'm saying, and not to what she thinks I am saying. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. 

However, I too do that. 

I react to what I think is being said and not to what actually is being said. There is obviously a breakdown in communication. We hear, but we just don't listen. 

And sometimes we don't care to listen because we think -and therein lies our error- that we know it all. 

That we are possessors of the truth, or at least, our truth, subjective though it might be, we own nothing but that which lives in our heads, and we care very little for that which lives in the heads of others since, and we all know this to be true, we are always right.

What a great disservice to mankind, as well as to ourselves this is, isn't it? 

The great Civil Rights leader W.E.B. Du Bois wrote, "Herein lies the tragedy of the age: not that men are poor, - all men know something of poverty; not that men are wicked; - who is good? not that men are ignorant, - what is truth? Nay, but that men know so little of men." And he was right. 

We know very little about other people, even those close to us, but we also don't care to know anymore than what we do since we spend precious little time getting to know anybody these days. 

Ever heard of speed-dating? You talk to someone for 5 minutes (or less) and them move on to the next person. Now I ask, can you be your fabulous self in just 5 minutes with 20 different people? 

 No, of course not. "Its a great way to meet new people!" they tell us. But it isn't. Not really. 

I think that beyond a physical impression, little else will be retained by us. And after talking to 20 people, I think most men will agree, who will you go back for? The person who stimulated your brain the most, or the pretty face with the wicked smile and killer ass? 


Exactly. So why pretend?


Facebook, Twitter, online chats, it is all so immediate, so quick. But I dare say that it was always like this. I don't think speed is responsible for our shortcomings. Perhaps it just made a bad situation worse.

And I do wish it were different. Personally speaking, I love it when I meet a like-minded person. 

Why? Because they make you feel like you are not the only idiot in the Universe who thinks like you do. There is, at least, one other idiot like you! 

Isn't it comforting to know that you are not the only one of your species?

And what better than getting to know someone you think you can learn something from? 

Yes, I know that this is not always the case, but it would be folly to think that we can't learn something from everyone we meet in life. However small.
 
"One's mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions," wrote the American XIX century writer Oliver Wendell Holmes. And how right he was.

In the end, after the lady in question hung up on him, exasperated as she was by all her effort, my friend called back, pressed #2, and spoke to a Spanish speaking operator who fixed his problem. 

There's a lot to be said for manners and good customer service, but that is a post for another day.

Fear of poverty

AOG, Madrid

I just got back from London. I have to say that, for the first time in a long time, I got the feeling that the whole country is bracing itself for what is coming finance-wise.

Yes, I am talking about the fear some people have concerning the recent budget proposals by the Torie/Lib-Dem coalition Government.

I spoke to a couple of friends about it and the general consensus was that the Government , in their opinion, is trying to outdo Thatcher. 

From what they said, many people fear that a lot of social rights will be taken away and, once gone, will never be returned.

One guy I spoke to mentioned that it was unfair how David Cameron, who has led a semi-sheltered well-to-do life has embarked in a quasi-crusade against poor people, not poverty. And the lady who told me this did so almost in tears.

I think she felt helpless as to what was happening. She was afraid.  

Should citizens be afraid of their own Government?

Another friend whom I spoke to mentioned how Britain had always been a Nanny State. It all started with a comment made to him by a good friend from Italy who said he felt like the UK was a bit of a police state. 

His partner then mentioned how a friend from Austria who'd lived in the UK had always felt it was a bit oppressive which is why she moved back home to have children.

I found it ironic since Austria has always seemed slightly oppressive to me.

From reading the British press, it would appear like my friends are not the only people worried about the coming months. 

Here The Guardian's take on it regarding Housing, which, according to many, will create an exodus of poor families from central London into the suburbs and will see an influx of well-to-do families into central London. 

Here The Independent talks about Boris Johnson's (Mayor of London and a Torie MP) take on the situation.

And here, the Daily Mail talks about child benefit cuts.  

Of course, nobody doubts that the UK needs to curb its spending, but many wonder if this is just a case of using the economic climate to enforce a right-wing social change. 

I think we will just have to wait and see.

Istanbul

AOG, Istanbul

We took a flight from Heathrow yesterday into Istanbul, ancient capital of the Ottoman Empire, ancient Constantinople, and even more ancient Bizantium. As it happens, it is 2010's European capital of culture.

City info:

Istanbul, Turkey, the largest city in Turkey and the industrial, commercial, and cultural center of the nation. 

Istanbul, formerly the capital of the Byzantine Empire and later of the Ottoman Empire, was for centuries one of the world's preeminent cities.

The city lies partly in Europe and partly in Asia on the traditional land route between Europe and Asia Minor. It commands the sea route connecting the Black Sea and the Mediterranean. 

The city's site has been of great commercial and military significance for centuries.

Flying BA

The flight went well, British Airways is definitely a step up from the low-budget airlines, and one is grateful for not having to pay extra for luggage, or sparkling water.

When I flew to Athens, I remember the flight lasting about 4 hours and a half. This time, however, the journey time was roughly 3 hours and 40 minutes, and this city is further from London than Athens. I think we either had a good tail wind, or the pilot stepped on the gas. Either way, I'm happy to have arrived.

At the airport

My first impression of Istanbul International Ataturk Airport, is that it looked fairly modern, though the journey from the plane to the terminal on the finger was hot, to say the least. 

No, it appears a/c is not big in these parts. 

We went straight to passport control, failing to notice the VISA section just before it. After waiting in line for about 10 minutes, the policeman laughs (as in "stupid tourists, this happens everyday, when will they learn") with some resignation and points to the VISA section where the line is even longer. 

We aim for the shortest line, which is, of course, the one with the difficult nationality "du jour" passenger which is holding up everything. 

There were some screens which showed how much each country has to pay to enter the country for 30, 60, or 90 days. We see ours and see that it is 10 euros for 30 days. 

We come up to the window only to be told that it is 15 euros. No discussion, no explanation, just pay. So we did.

We have just arrived and are too tired to argue, especially since we slept little the night before, and, most of all, we want to enjoy ourselves.

So, with our visas (a paper stamp) in our passports, we head back to passport control. We get get the thing rubber stamped and head off towards our luggage which was waiting for us at the -by now motionless-, carousel like two beached whales awaiting death. 

We pick them up and try to look not too conspicuous as we walk past customs. No, we aren't carrying anything dodgy, but it is a pain to open your bags and have the security forces look through your underwear.

We didn't get stopped and went outside. Our hotel was meant to send us a driver to pick us up (airport pick and and delivery being one of the reasons why this place got chosen). 

We leave the arrivals exit looking at a small army of people holding up signs for different travelers, none of them us. We had written to the hotel asking for confirmation that they would come, and when we called them this morning, they confirmed that somebody would come. 

No one is there. We call the hotel, twice, and get told to wait at the information desk. There are two information desks, so we split up. After 20 minutes, we call again. 

"He is coming".

After another 15 minutes, we call again.

"He is coming".

After another 8 minutes, he shows up making excuses about the traffic. Very nice man, but very late. I assume that if this is his  regular job, he knows the journey times by heart since he must do this every day. 

I keep thinking that he should have left his departure point sooner, to prevent this. In any case, it is true that the traffic is a bit heavy at times.

First impressions from the transport van

Istanbul is big. Gigantic. And not too wealthy. We see colorful blocks of flats on the sides of the highway into the city, which would not have looked out of place behind the iron curtain. Totalitarian architecture, what a joy.

The other thing which we notice right away is that a) this place is very hilly, and b) Minaret city. They are everywhere, looking like some sort of holy silo pointing at the heavens.

Whilst on the highway, other cities come to mind. Buenos Aires, because of the driving style -at one point a passenger bus makes a sharp turn in front of us to catch the exit, almost crashing into us and, by the way, almost running over the pedestrian (yes) that was crossing over at the time, right by the exit (Cape Town). The other city which Istanbul reminds us of is Salvador de Bahia. 

Although I wouldn't say that Istanbul has Favelas, it does have a tendency to have grubby, old buildings next to new ones, and in the distance we soon spot what could be a luxurious downtown area à l'americaine. 

They tend to stand out a lot since most buildings are not as tall, and also, they are probably built in a high part of town, so they really stick out against the skyline. Once we cross the Golden Horn we notice that this city has a lot of small streets going up steep hills, which are lined with old wooden Ottoman houses which look like they are about to fall apart, and a mixture of old and new, business and civil, architecture. It shares this aspect of itself  with Bahia.

The Hotel 

We arrive at the hotel and give the driver a small tip. On the whole, the journey took about 35 minutes and the hotel does not look too bad on the outside. A porter comes out to fetch our bags and walks us inside. Slow day, I gather, we were not left at the doorstep,  but rather a few feet away.

We check in and are told, after the initial "Oh there's been a mistake, you want two beds- No there's no mistake, one large bed thank you" that there are no rooms with a view or that face the street. 

We are given a room on the 4th floor which we dislike because a) it connects with another room and b) it faces the rooftops of the adjacent buildings and their loud a/c machines. Not good.

We go back downstairs and complain. They give us another room. Our welcome fruit basket stays behind. 

The new room is smaller (like Tokyo proportions) but it has a nice view of the street, which we like, and the a/c works great. In the coming days this will be a major plus.

We unpack, shower, and decide to visit the Gym/ Sports Club since we are told we get our pool towels from there. The hotel has two pools, and indoor pool and a rooftop pool.

We go down to the -3 floor. When we step out of the lift we see a gym to the right, and two guys talking. No one is manning the front desk. We ring the bell and no one comes. So after 10 minutes, we split.

The Bar Hunt

A friend of ours had told us about a bar we should visit in the city, and that became our first priority.

It was meant to be near our hotel so we headed out and started walking around the hotel quarter where we were staying, but with no luck. We saw the first glimpses of Turkish life then. 

Men playing chess, men talking, children playing on the street, men who want you to eat at their restaurant, men working. 

We don't find the bar in question, so we check our map and venture off into Beyoğlu, the quarter where we are staying.

First stop: Taksim square

Large and busy. Not a beautiful square, particularly, but it certainly is bustling. And it is exciting.

 People, children, movement, traffic, vendors, beggars, women with veils, men holding hands, some tourists.

We go down Istiklal street (Istiklal caddesi) and are amazed by the large number of people, shops, hustle and bustle of the place.

On it are to be found many former embassies from when Istanbul was the capital of the Ottoman Empire which are now only consulates. 

The first one which caught my eye is the Greek consulate. And how do you say Greece in Turkish? Yunanistan. I loved it! Yunanistan.

The whole street is half Western, half Turkish and I'm not sure about which half I love best.

We find a music shop and pop in quickly. CDs are not expensive, so I spot a couple I want to buy, including Tarkan's latest album.

Our search for the "holy" bar takes us all the way down to Galatasaray square, from where the street begins to loose glamour and excitement and the less moneyed businesses have set up shop. 

Ironic since Galatasary High School is meant to be very upmarket and a place where most of the country's politicians studied.

Se we turn back upon ourselves, and head towards this small alley where we think we spotted something resembling a rainbow flag.

The alley in question is wonderful. Street musicians, coffee tables, some local graffiti, and a bar called Love on Sakızağacı street. 

We walk in and I can't help but to be reminded of Havana. It is old, with some attempt at being fashionable and Western, but tatty and decadent. And with Wi-Fi. So, of course, we like it. Also, we are the only ones there.

We order a couple of drinks (no alcohol, it is Ramadan) and we discover that -and it will only grow more obvious as they days pass, that hardly anyone speaks English in Turkey's most international city. 

At this bar one of the guys spoke some German, but not English. We were surprised. They tell us where the bar is, and we have our drinks and head back. A couple of hours have gone by at this point. 

As we approach Taksim square once again, we get a phone call from our friend who tells us that he had, in fact, been given us the wrong information all along. 
Great. The street he meant, which is the one we had on our piece of paper, is the same street our hotel is on. Yes, you guessed it, we walked right past it! Oh how we laughed when we stood in front of it like two idiots!

It is closed, and even looks like it won't ever open. It is now getting late (not a problem in this city. It truly does not sleep), and we settle for a local kebab shop on a parallel street. 

They serve us some nice food, but nothing amazing. And we get no alcohol because it is Ramadan, but they are very polite about it.

We pay up, cross the pavement, buy some water and bananas for the room at an underground shop, and head home. 

  

We are very tired at this point. 

Long day.

 

Odd year

AOG, Madrid

This has been an odd year thus far. I have not wanted to update this blog, though I have no idea why eaxctly. It just hasn't happened.

Since we got back from Japan last year, I have found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on much, though I think that what I have been suffering from most is just good old fashioned apathy and little else.

Work has been stressful since about mid-February when 80% of my department at the paper left. 

The workload increased and I was surprised to experience that my colleagues were not really forthcoming in the help department. 

Yes, I know economics is a difficult thing to deal with. However, I also noticed that they were not really helping each other much either.

I am not in the mood to do a 7 month recap, but I will say that somehow I've managed to survive Spain winning the World Cup in South Africa, the Madrid Pride celebrations, and that I've made a couple of new friends and those are always in short supply.

And speaking of friends, through the magic of Facebook, I found the two High School buddies I've been after since we graduated. One, funnily enough, lives in London! The other one just moved back to Texas. We've spoken on the phone a couple of times, which is good. We are still were we left off. A good feeling.

August is just around the corner, and my only plan is to take it easy. 

We'll see.

 PS: I've just realized that the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics just passed me by completely. I'm so not a jock...but I do like one when I see one! LOL

New York Times Ready To Charge Online Readers

AOG, Madrid

Television pays for itself through advertising, and it is free (unless you have cable). Radio, a medium with a lot of things in common with the internet, also somehow manages to "survive" without charging for content.

The NYT claims that to continue to pay for its "high-cost, ambitious journalism", it must charge online readers. I don't see this as working, especially now that the NYT has gone global and, as it claims, it has 20 million unique readers (I among them).

I think someone has forgotten to remind this paper that online users consult a lot of different sources to get their news, not just one or two.

Especially people under 25. Whilst I know that since we pay for paper, it would make sense to pay for online content, it is also true that there is something in the internet which makes it anathema to even consider this option.

If NYT starts to charge, its 20 million "unique users" will mostly flee.

I don't think I can afford to pay for several papers online. I'm sure that what will happen is that some other paper delivers the same news for free, and that will be the way users will go. Open market means zero fidelity.

NYT, and other who consider going down that road, will soon experience a rude awakening.

Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Avatar

AOG, Madrid

Just saw the movie Avatar, by the director James Cameron.

First impressions: very weak writing, predictable throughout, way too long, and, yes, very good special effects.

The movie has flaws as deep as the cheekbones on the Na’vi. For example, if you’ve ever heard of General Custer or Sitting Bull, you are in familiar territory.

The indigenous people are a XIX century caricature of the customs of native peoples everywhere.

They behave a bit like animals sometimes, grunting, growling, and showing their teeth, and in the next scene, they are all doing some sort of Cumbaya around a tree with glo-worms everywhere.

Please note that in the film, the character Neytiri’s mother, the Shaman of the tribe, speaks with a Jamaican accent when she speaks English. And the locals all have braided hair and ride horses like the Apache did.

Oh, and yes, in the future, everyone speaks English on Earth. And the natives, although a different species, can pick it up quite quickly. Handy, yes?

If you’ve seen Aliens (also a Cameron movie), then the Evil Space Corporation from Earth reprise will not surprise you. How ironic that Sigourney Weaver stars in both films.

But there are other things that will remind of you Aliens. Gadgets, insults (like "Bitch"), characters, etc.

There are gaps in the story line, a couple of loose ends, and, unfortunately, although it is meant to be in the future, everything that happens is quite modern. Like all! There is no futuristic moral message.

The entire movie is like watching a Native American tribe being kicked out of their land by white men in 1920. Flying machines versus bows and arrows. Warriors against soldiers. Yes, you’ve seen it all before, but done better.

And no, in case you are wondering, there are no gay people in the future and the Na’vi are a species which likes to paint its body and biologically connect with the local fauna, but nothing which might even hint at homosexuality, though, and this might be a bit of a shocker, zoophlilia is well catered for.

"Feel her strong legs, now her hearbeat and yours are one".

Gimme a break!

There are also no fat humans, or fat Na'vi, they are all slim and tall and athletic, and the blue beings don't age. Or at least not with wrinkles.

All in all, it is sad to see that Sci Fi has not yet moved beyond Minority Report, Aliens, Apocalypse Now, Gorillas in the Mist, Disney’s Cimarron and Predator.

The movie feels a lot like a two-and-a-half hour long video game.

It doesn't help that it looks like a beautiful one too most of the time.