Of many twinkling, coloured lights

This year's Guy Fawkes Day was very different from the last. I was on a plane flying back from Dublin when the celebrations threw many coloured lights into the air. As a matter of fact, I was in the window seat on the plane as it landed in Heathrow airport.

I doubt many people remember the true significance of the 5th of November anymore here, all it is now is an excuse to light fireworks and have something special to do for the evening with the kids while as many twinkling coloured lights as you can manage burst into the air.

For me, by concidence, it became a revelation of astonishing beauty.

As the plane flew long over London, the ground laid out like glittering embroidery. The rolling, curving lines of street lamps, buildings, the Thames moved like a fabric, one that was fit for any queen. Every now and then, a light winked and shone, as we passed away from the tall office buildings and over households, street upon street of lined houses, gathering the fireworks for the evening.

Almost gradually, the fireworks started, rising from the ground silently, bursting in slow motion. One, then another, and another. This must be the first time I have ever seen a meme made visible. Household after household, it was a hope, a thought, a prayer rising in solemn celebration from the ground.

As the plane landed, there were still fireworks going off around Heathrow, as if the land itself was saying "this is not enough, there is more". I cannot describe how exactly the angles changed, as fireworks seen from above started to grow, and spread itself from tender bubbles into glowing umbrellas, then finally into fiery rain.

But I think I know now why the window seat is Monsieur G's favourite spot on the plane.

Things to do in a hotel room

I suppose my blog has evolved into something I do only when I'm travelling. Although fret not, I'm travelling so much these days, I end up blogging more often than when I don't travel at all and stay in with many other things to do.

So I'm sitting here in a fancy schmancy hotel room (Hilton, so it's posh but not too classy) and wondering what some things to do in a hotel room that you wouldn't necessarily want to do at home would be - smart things, practical things, get your mind out of the gutter.

And it occurred to me that a really clever thing to do would be to dye your hair. (Girls only at this point, unless guys are interested in L'Oreal hair dye products as well).

So one thing I learnt this time on my trip is that the US is known for some things which are unbelievably cheaper than back home (regardless which you consider at the moment). And these things, surprisingly are:

1. Hair dye
2. Shampoo
3. Moisturizer
4. Cosmetics
5. Nail polish

Just to name a few. So you could technically pamper yourself with a remarkably well done, self serviced spa trip, all in the comforts of your own room.

Which is exactly what I did.

Now a few reasons why this makes absolutely perfect sense for a paying customer, and you will get this if you've ever tried to dye your hair in the comforts of your own home:

1. You don't fret whether the hair dye is going to fall on the floor and stain the bathroom floor because they don't get mopped up until your next hair dye job, since housekeeping takes care of this every single day.
2. You don't run out of towels for your hair as they're usually in free flow, plentiful supply if you don't care enough about the environment to hang them up and save the hotel some money. Granted, they are white, so you do feel a bit guilty. But the dye washes off (presumably).
3. Hotels usually come with a disposable shower cap, and if you are lucky, some of them also come with a comb, which is perfect for application and retention of the hair dye in a semi-professional manner.
4. Hotels usually come also with large mirrors, so you can look at your hair while applying the hair dye every which way.
5. Hotels are also equipped with shampoo, conditioner, unlimited supply of water (and potentially tissues for mopping up mess) and a hair dryer. These are all essential in the journey to a successful self-dye job.

So I wonder that people don't get the idea from Natasha in Species more often when serial killers dye their hair (and sometimes even give themselves haircuts) in the comfort of their own hotel rooms, the better to disguise their appearances when wanted by the police.

In fact, it's so convenient, and provides so much unpredicted benefits to the paying customer that from a hotel's point of view, it should be illegal or else paid for in extra dollars contributing towards potentially stained bath mats, towels, bathroom floors and other effects.

But for now, I'm loving it. And with a new and trendy hair colour coming out of the hotel room, I'm all for it.

On Mountains and Molehills

[Writing this from the airport at Vancouver after spending a week on Whistler, Canada.]

I never thought that I would be one for mountains, tall pine trees, snow and the near freezing cold, but I suppose people change or else discover a deeper realization about themselves than they know.

Something about the air made me think about what I was really about. And I started to compile a new playlist. This one's of interest actually -

If you could only have one playlist (hypothetically - imagine a somewhat broken down iPod) to be stuck with on a desert island with potentially no hope of rescue, what would that be? (And to be fair, you can't create a playlist of all the songs on your iPod either)

1. Black Eyed Peas - Where is the Love
2. Youssou N'Dour - 7 Seconds
3. Tori Amos - 1000 Oceans
4. John Mayer - No Such Thing
5. Cranberries - Dreams
6. Cranberries - Linger
7. Cranberries - When You're Gone
8. Cranberries - Free to Decide
9. Sting - Shape of My Heart
10. Sting - When We Dance

That surprised me. Almost to the extent that I'm nearly realizing (we're on the edge of something here) that probably inside me there is a black, politically charged activist longing to sing out loud. Perhaps this is no surprise if you read my blog from times ago. I'm not entirely surprised if hidden behind the power suits and analytical frameworks, a hip-hopping, french-speaking girl whose favourite outfit are loose sweat shirts, jeans and t-shirts with greenpeace messages is still existent.

These are some of my all-time favourite songs. They get me up in the morning, they remind me of the best times of my life. But as much as they are reminiscent of times past, they're also a sharp reminder that these best times are times now past. With faces of friends that I love most, but do not meet.

Instead, I let my shopping define a different person from the person that my colleagues thought they knew. I bought 3 ski jackets, a bag that I absolutely adored with brown/mint tribal patterns on it: "It's a bit fractal..." was what Mariusz, one of my colleagues, said about it.

If there's one thing my colleagues learnt about me during this trip, it is that they had only scratched the surface of what they think they know about me in this one year of interaction. Funny enough, I had the same realization, except I know what I value now - the hiking, the trees, the crisp, cold air, the powder (snow), snowboarding, funk, dogs.

If I had my way about it, my perfect holiday trip would now involve a ski village, a golden retriever, and many walks in the snow and along the lake.

And I never thought I had it in me to be a nature girl.