On the call to prayer and whorehouse-chic

We were pretty sure there had been a terrible accident. As we drove along the one-way loops and switchbacks that we hoped would lead us into central Sharjah, we saw a large crowd of people on the road. They looked like they were gathered around someone or something on the ground in the right-hand lane, but we couldn't tell. A couple of cars were parked at odd angles nearby, hazards flashing. It looked ominous.

Then everyone in the crowd knelt down at the same time. And we noticed the prayer mats.

Now, far be it from a heathen like me to suggest that people pray on the sidewalk (or approximately where a sidewalk would be, if there was one, which there wasn't). But these guys were right beside a mosque. You'd think it would be more peaceful, if not safer, to pray in a spot where one didn't run the hazard of being mowed down by a couple of low-blood-sugared Canadian furniture-shoppers. However, this was Sharjah - Dubai's neighbouring emirate, about a 40 min. drive down the highway - reportedly a much more devout place than Dubai.

In fact, though I'm generalizing wildly on the basis of just one visit there, Sharjah did seem a bit more into their religion. The mosques played spiritual soundtracks all the time, not just during the call to prayer, and the larger furniture stores had prayer rooms. We'd be wandering along, admiring the latest raspberry-velvet and gold-lacquered example of whorehouse-chic, and suddenly we'd hear a group of people behind a wall saying something in unison, in response to what we'd thought was just pleasant furniture-buying muzak.

Well, power to them. And actually, praying did seem rather appropriate as we dragged ourselves through another 25 furniture shops last night without a single purchase.

Which brings me to whorehouse-chic, the prevalent style. (One of C's buddies coined the phrase, so props to M.) It got to be a little overwhelming after awhile. Imagine armchairs like thrones, with armrests you could lie on and gigantic curving backrests swathed in sherbet-coloured velvet. Imagine the liberal and often haphazard application of leather panels, copper studs, toonie-sized crystals, wood carvings, tassels as big as your head and other lavish embellishments. This is furniture doing everything in its upholstered power to convince your bum that it is the most glorious thing in the world. 

Now, we didn't see anyone buying this stuff. All of the other people shopping - lots of families, of varied backgrounds - seemed to be looking at the everyday leather couches and such. I think a lot of these places stock the WC look to cater to the filthy-rich cohort of people here who shudder to think of a single moment when their wealth isn't on display. Well, WC fits the bill.

About half a dozen times, we'd encounter a simple, overstuffed couch shining like a beacon of mediocrity in a gold-lacquered wilderness. We like our couches to be very cozy and we are prepared to sacrifice 99% of style considerations if a couch will facilitate napping, preferably by two people at once, and ideally for two people and their future tiny-dog. 

And a couple of those beacons of mediocrity are about to become ours. Actually, they're very nice couches, in chocolate-brown (read: will blur most stains), with lovely overstuffedness. We're going back to Sharjah tonight to order them. So ready yourselves, potential visitors: the guest-beds are about to arrive!