The Lamborghini and the Iftar tent

I just finished reading Anathem by Neal Stephenson, which I loved and which is another one of his brick-sized explorations of ideas and technology. His setting this time is an alternative universe where mathematicians, scientists and philosophers are segregated from the general population in a monastic-type setting. In between adventures involving otherworldly visitors, Tetris-like puzzles with real tiles and other fun sci-fi stuff, the characters engage in high-level debates on Platonic ideals, consciousness, symbolic reasoning and other heady topics.

If you don't understand after reading the previous paragraph why I love sci-fi so much, I will never convince you. In part, it's a way for a literary geek like me to understand (even be riveted by) scientific theories, mathematical principles, the way the natural world works, etc. Things like physics out of a textbook make me anxious and bored. Put the same content in a narrative and my brain can hum happily along for 1,000 + pages (Anathem weighs in at 1,008).

Which brings me to the Lamborghini, the Iftar tent and deductive reasoning I'm trying to apply to the villa across the street from my apartment building. I realize (thanks to Anathem) that my data will be faulty, that observation alone over such a short period of time does not allow me to draw the kind of conclusions I'm going to share a few paragraphs hence, but I can't help it. The juxtaposition is just too inviting.

Said villa is large, though no larger than the others on that particular block. Yet it is the center of neighborhood happenings in more ways than one. Take right now. An orange Lamborghini is parked in front. There are a startling number of wildly expensive cars parked on the streets of Abu Dhabi, though Lamborghinis are unusual, even for here. Beside the Lamborghini is an Iftar tent, a traditional shelter with cushions and a little swinging lantern. Back when everyone was a Bedouin, hosts welcome guests into their tents to break the fast. This tent, though traditional in nature is modern in design and features a built-in A/C unit. Nonetheless, Iftar tents are about as rare as orange Lamborghinis. These days, most people celebrate the meal inside with families or at the city's many lavish buffets. (Because restaurants can't open during the day, they go all-out at night during Ramadan.)

What does this mean? Who has a Lamborghini and an Iftar tent? At first glance , they are two symbols of the Gulf circa 2009-- wealth and tradition coexisting on a few feet of city asphalt. At the same time, they are mutually exclusive. Those holding on to the traditions espoused by the Iftar tent would resist spending the money it would take to buy a top-of-the-line Italian sports car in bright orange. Those who favor $200,000-worth of big engines and sleek European design would turn away from the rustic nature of the Arabian tent, A/C notwithstanding.

Because there is sometimes a metallic gold Mercedes parked next to the Lamborghini (!!) I've decided that the owner of the villa, let's call him Asaad, is a dealer in fancy cars, but his heart remains in the desert. He drives home his wares because he can't possible be seen in a more modest Beemer (or on a camel), but he likes nothing better than to ditch the glitz for a night in the tent. Or, Asaad could be a purveyor of Iftar tents for the modern Gulf family who has a passion for the flashiest of European automobiles.

Anyone else have any ideas?