Showing posts with label Mobile World Congress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mobile World Congress. Show all posts

Saturday, 8 February 2020

I'd love to be in Barcelona...but is it worth it?



It's more than possible that until the brouhaha surrounding the Chinese telecoms vendor Huawei blew up a couple of weeks ago, you'd never have heard of 5G. But all of a sudden, a telecommunications technology that had previously been discussed only in the trade press was front page news, albeit for political reasons rather than industrial. In the days leading up to and including the UK's controversial decision to allow Huawei to potentially supply equipment to the likes of Vodafone, Telefónica/O2, Three and EE, I'd been seething. With the news being reported in the mainstream media by mostly political correspondents, each weighing up the pros and cons from within the British body politic, as well as objections from the White House (which, we are told, led to a furious row between Boris Johnson and Donald Trump), I was constantly reading about the "UK's 5G network" [singular], despite the fact that anyone with a basic knowledge of the situation would say they should be reading about "networks", given that the 'Big Four' commercial mobile services, plus providers of private networks, would be the main actors in any ruling on who they could or couldn't buy 5G kit from.

Then there was the assumption that 5G could only be referred to in terms of conventional mobile functionality. Many in the telecoms industry agree that downloading Game Of Thrones in a fraction of the time you can on a 4G phone is not going to drive 5G. The bigger opportunity will be applications you'll probably never be aware of, like enabling surgeons to carry out operations remotely or making freight ports significantly more efficient. And, yes, there's always the possibility of driverless cars, although I wouldn't hold your breath for that appearing any time soon. But it's this point of what 5G will be able to do, beyond just making your mobile whizzier, that makes the whole row over Huawei more serious. And not just because of  'trust' concerns. 5G will, potentially, become an all-pervasive communications technology, one which, via a number of varieties (in other words, frequencies and wavelengths), will offer different means of access for different types of access need, including 'machine-to-machine' communications and the so-called 'Internet of Things', where devices and sensors talk to each other, speeding up everything from urban traffic to managing factories remotely from the other side of the world.

While the Huawei row rumbles on even further this weekend, a new twist to China's involvement in the development of 5G has occurred, inadvertently. Later this month Barcelona is to host an event that can actually be measured in terms of the city's annual revenue: Mobile World Congress, a gargantuan trade show for the telecoms industry, and an event on the same scale as CES, the monster techfest in Las Vegas each January. Over the last ten years, MWC has become increasingly about 5G, to such extent that the last one I attended, in 2018, was only about the fifth generation technology. Trade shows like MWC are sometimes seen by attendees and observers alike as bloated beanfeasts, wherein tens of thousands of sales people descend to schmooze. In most companies, the sales process is year-round, though contracts are still signed on stands at MWC, an arcane throwback to the days when account managers would attend their company's booths holding clipboards with blank paperwork at the ready. It's an expensive business for exhibitors - for most major vendors, MWC is their single biggest annual marketing expenditure. At Alcatel-Lucent and Nokia, employee attendance was always rigorously controlled, wisely when you consider that a major stand, plus 500 employees taking part, all staying for four or five days in hotels that clearly up their room rates for the week, adding more expense in Barcelona's tapas bars and restaurants, would run to millions.

Which brings me to yesterday's news that Ericsson, the Swedish vendor and nominally one of the three anchors of MWC (along with Huawei and Nokia), has decided to pull out of the show over concerns for the welfare of its employees and customers caused by the spread of the coronavirus. Other companies, including Korea's LG, the chip company Nvidia and China's other telecom technology vendor, ZTE, have also either pulled out of MWC altogether or announced a reduced presence, again due to concerns about the increasing coronavirus spread. These may only be a few of the 2500 exhibitors each year at MWC, but there are genuine fears that Ericsson's departure will be the straw that breaks the camel's back and that others will pullout in the coming days. Nokia could be one of them, with a spokesperson yesterday saying, somewhat inappropriately given the nature of disease, that "the situation is fluid". Like many MWC exhibitors, Nokia also has a substantial footprint in China, with that country being the supply chain base for much of the technology industry. Many Chinese nationals and expats will be travelling from China to Barcelona.

In all seriousness, however, can the major brands really afford to be absent from what is, arguably, the most important industry event this year for the telecoms industry, in the year that 5G is nominally supposed to arrive? I'm sure, too, that some companies' marketing executives are viewing a pullout, even this late in the day, as an opportunity to save money for other projects, again tapping into some of the cynicism that exists over whether these shows are worth it at all. My personal view is somewhat conflicted: MWC is an unbeatable platform for the sharing of news, views and ideas, for networking and for engaging customers and other 'stakeholders', like journalists and industry analysts. Annually, MWC gives everyone a boost. But it comes at a price. By the time everyone gets to Barcelona, they will have experienced the most intense few weeks of the new year, with many companies also having to report their annual financial results in the run up to the show. I, regularly when I attended, would get to the penultimate show day, the Wednesday, and then succumb to terminal man flu. Getting run down and then sick from all those germs travelling in to Barcelona from across the world was a constant hazard for those working at the show, and often compounded by the late nights and early starts (not complaining, but these shows are punishing). Companies are right to question whether the health risks - weighing above financial concerns by a high margin - really are worth it this year, given how the coronavirus spread seems to be getting worse, with cases now being a long way away from Wuhan where the outbreak began. The next few days could prove crucial, both for an event you've never heard of, and for a technology you probably hadn't heard of, either, until a few weeks ago.


Saturday, 4 March 2017

Decompression

© Simon Poulter 2017

What is it about being beside the Mediterranean in March, enjoying a shot of early spring sunshine while nibbling away at an agreeable glass of local vino tinto, that feels simultaneously decadent and undeniably relaxing? Whatever it is, it was a significant part of my Friday, and just what the doctor ordered. For the first time in what seemed weeks, there were no meetings or conference calls, no e-mails marked 'Important' with "URGENT" stamped in the subject line, just in case the red exclamation mark didn't work.

Like Punxsutawney Phil I emerged yesterday morning from my burrow, after weeks of preparing for and then attending Mobile World Congress, to suck in some sea air and soak up the Catalan vibe. It was a decompression day, one when I could sleep in and then, once self-levered out of my pit, saunter down to the hotel restaurant for a Barça breakfast of kings (noticeably comprised of sausages, some more sausages, several sausages and a Montserrat Caballe-sized hill of scrambled eggs. It is possible, however, that I subconsciously, but quite belligerently, missed the fresh fruit and yoghurt buffet...).

Either way, stuffed on a large quantity of artery clogging porcine goodness, and before I'd had the chance to ask what "cardiologist" was in Spanish (cardiólogo, Google later advises me), I set off to blow away cobwebs accrued over the last few weeks slaving over a steaming laptop and the last few days spent in a large metal shed with a corporate lanyard around my neck.

The not-so guilty pleasure of coming to Barcelona at the end of each February for a trade show is that, if you're lucky, you can catch your first reviving blast of Vitamin D. It's not always easy, as you find yourself sucked into a cycle of airport → taxi → hotel → taxi → event → taxi → hotel → taxi → event → taxi → airport, but if you're smart, and don't have anything or anyone to rush home to, you'll stay down here in this most engaging of Mediterranean cities for an extra couple of days to unwind.

© Simon Poulter 2017
And thus so yesterday proved: what started out as a gentle stroll from my hotel next to the vast Diagonal Mar shopping mall, became an engaging walk along the three-mile beachfront down to the preposterous sail-shaped W hotel with its pretentious staff and equally pretentious restaurants (so typical of the brand), before curling back into the Barceloneta district and the marina, with its vast - and I mean aircraft carrier-sized, Russian-owned (apparently) yachts.

This all might sound like a route march, but one of the eminent joys of Barcelona is going on foot and stopping as often as you want and not feeling under any pressure to be doing anything. At all. Somewhere in the midst of all this "vigorous" exercise I managed to squeeze in a latte, a sizeable vessel of Rioja and a light selection of tapas, not that this was any kind of novelty as I seemed to have existed almost exclusively on tapas as my evening meal over the last seven days.

The idea of tapas being a bar snack has almost been abandoned in Barcelona, as restaurants have based their entire menus around the cuisine. From shaved ham and croquettes, through to octopus and salted vegetables of every hue, no single eaterie seems to offer the same dishes, with the only common denominator being the red wines and cold cervezas that, even at the wet and blustery tail end of winter, trickle down a treat.

© Simon Poulter 2017
Until evening, this particular Friday was blessed with fine weather, which meant that there was no excuse to be indoors for anything. And so, after lunch (tapas) in the Barceloneta district - the marina on one side, the beach on the other, it was back walking again, moving up into the city centre where, by mid-afternoon, the British stag and hen weekends were already luridly spilling out all over La Rambla already, a calamity-in-waiting of ill-fitting T-shirts bearing legends like "Dave's Stag Do - Barcelona Or Bust" or "Susie's Final Weekend Of Freedom". There are times when you can really be embarrassed to be a Brit abroad.But who cares, each to their own.

My Friday had begun without agenda and so continued that way. By the time I'd reached the north end of La Rambla, and the sprawling Plaça de Catalunya - heavily armed police conspicuously standing guard, a sad fixture now in European tourist spots from Paris to Milan - it was time to stop and download a cold beer and take it all in. According to an app on my phone I'd walked just over six miles since leaving my hotel mid-morning. As evening bore down, it was time to refuel again. At the suggestion of my friend Mary, meat was the recommended option. Not a great surprise, I grant you, given the amount of vegetarian-unfriendly dishes I've consumed this last week, but it was, I was promised, going to be a meat feast untold.

And so we ended up in the somewhat unassuming La Vermuterie, appropriately just off Carrer de Londres, where we were offered an 800g pile of cooked cow, preceded - natch - by the prerequisite tapas selection. I'm not a huge meat eater (note the lack of a comma there) so the idea of a Flintstones-sized plate of flesh and bone wasn't all that appealing. But - man alive! - what turned up was remarkable. For a restaurant that looked more like a local Starbucks (at the table next to us sat a man with a Macbook consuming the WiFi, as you would find most of the day in any coffee outlet), this was exquisite fare. Such was the quantity, I won't be eating anything today. Or this week. And possibly not until April.

© Simon Poulter 2017