How did we ever live without smartphones? I know it’s a well-trodden subject for B-list comedians around the world, but it’s a really good question.
I’m writing this at the Cannes Film Festival, where I am finding it hard to maintain a Wi-Fi connection for more than 30 seconds a day – which is a problem if you are working. Even in my hotel room, I have discovered I have to leave, walk down the corridor, and hang around somewhere near the lifts if I want any form of reliable internet connection. This is a situation that has led to myself and the night porter becoming exceptionally well acquainted, though not necessarily in a good way.
I have the luxury of being able to speak French and explain that my job requires me to maybe send a story to Abu Dhabi quite late at night after a hard day tracking down said story and writing it up. Complaining about the internet connection results in a traditional French raised eyebrow, and a sense of general disdain.
The irony is that I was a late adopter of mobile technology, and in a sense I’m still proud of that. In 1999 I was adamant that it was a fad. Who on Earth would want to be contactable by all their friends (lovely though they may be), their work (lovely though they may also be), and worst of all, their mother (lovely though she may be) 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. “Not I,” thought I.
And then I bought one. It was OK at first. I’d just use it for the odd call if I was out and about and needed to meet someone. It was also useful to know I had it in case I found myself in a difficult situation and needed to call a friend, or the police, or even the aforementioned mother.
And then they began to evolve. Suddenly my Nokia had a game called Snake on it. That was an hour of my day gone. Then they could take photos. Then they became sort of internet connectible, and you could do new things – like download a new version of Snake or send a photo of your dinner to your mum to let her know you were looking after yourself.
It’s amazing, really, and everything about it is positive and life-enhancing. Except that I can’t get a signal to save my life in Cannes. I’m not going to blame the doubtless excellent French telecoms industry, I’m sure it is simply the sheer overload of the mass of people who have descended on the festival, all trying to grab a share of the bandwidth. The problem seems worse as I have just moved house, and still have no Wi-Fi in the UAE either. I feel a little bit like Feral Kid from Mad Max 2, skulking in tunnels and grunting aggressively at newcomers. At least Feral Kid can throw a boomerang with deadly accuracy. I can’t even do that.
Luckily, the Dubai government recently announced ambitious plans to become the world’s first “Smart City”, with internet connections on the metro, in the streets, the desert and, hopefully, underwater, too. So at least next time I have to move house I’ll be able to find out what all my friends had for dinner on Facebook.
That still won’t help me in France, though.
cnewbould@thenational.ae
