Dubai

Bottle of guava juice: 1.25 dirhams. Fine for littering, stringently enforced: 500 dirhams. Seeing an Indian throw something in a garbage can: priceless. Yet another moment when I wished I had my camera.

However, I was encouraged by the cabbie (also Indian, of course) to take a picture of the Burj Al Arab, the world's only seven-star hotel on its own custom-built island, with my phone, from the gate, where we were told rather unequivocally to turn around. I'll put it up here once I figure out how to email myself from my phone. What have I become?

Bar

is the name of the place but for the life of me I can't find a bottle of pear brandy. Spent the weekend by a little pancake island called Sv. Stefan, in Montenegro. You may be familiar with Serbia and Montenegro from their 7th place showing in last night's Eurovision song contest. (Kudos, Greece.) The wedding band, a brass ensemble like in all the Serb movies, struck up at around 8:00 and rang through all the stone staircases of the town. Is there a term for "picturesque" in other senses? "Sampleable"?

Tonight, the train from Bar to Belgrade, "one of the world's great mountain railroads." Full moon.

Ljubljana

In this hostel in Metelkova, the "counterculture" district, every fixture and piece of furniture appears at first glance to have been custom-built—implication being that our 4000 tolar room bill supports local artisans. But in fact the place is 99.44% Ikea. So it goes.

For the first time I really wish I had my camera with me. The posters in this place are just the best. Perhaps Benjamina knows where I can steal some. Now off to stalk Slavoj Zizek (diacriticals TBA).

France, Italy

Get back to you on this one.

Barcelona

At the Barcelona Asian Film Festival. They have wireless here, claro. Who wants a t-shirt? Got a ticket for Jiang Hu, the new Andy Lau gangster film. Nearby is a Pakistani neighborhood that I hope to explore. Perhaps the kurta pajamas are cheaper at Naveen's on C. de Carne than in West Bloomfield. Next feature's starting—shhhh.