Dubai - a whirlwind of adrenalin, perfume and strong coffee

I was pretty much exhausted when I took my seat on the plane - the week
of preparation, packing the night before and a day of rushing to beat
deadlines for my boss before I left the office for the airport all
conspired together to make me shaky. This was followed by a hour
standing on the tube, an hour in line to drop my bags, 3 security
cheques and 6 hours overnight in the air.

Let's just say - 48 hours after landing, I am still running on empty (or
rather, coffee)

Things keep appearing and disappearing. Today I managed to find my
missing power cable and lose all my business cards.
Oh, and walk into a plate glass door while holding a cup of coffee.
The only person who saw this humiliation was a charming Emirati producer
who swapped stories of similar mishaps with me.

So, it's possible I am hallucinating the whole festival.

Fragmentary impressions.

It's raining - the first rain here in 20 months. Go figure.

I saw "Un Prophete" by Jacques Audiard. It is a masterpiece. Even
after 36 hours without sleep every minute gripped me. Magical, gruesome
without being glum or grim.

Lovely laid back atmosphere - there are none of the scrums of papps,
herds of fans and packs of wannabes that make Cannes so frenetic and
unproductive. (No one is here pitching their trilogy of low-budget
torture porn).

Also, its hugely refreshing not to have the debate dominated by the US
market.

I like doing business in a culture that respects women for what they
have from the neck up rather than down, and is not obsessed with 18 year
olds. It's also wonderful to socialise without alcohol. This leads to
wonderful conversations with some very interesting people - and some
great opportunities to collaborate with writer/directors from the region.

I need a month's worth of sleep.