Missing the snow

Last weekend I woke up to a number of e-mails and messages about the snow in London, pictures of streets and cars powder-white, and words such as "dangerous", "we got stuck" and "freeeezing" thrown around, but it was only a couple of inches. I opened my curtains and gazed at the sunny view of cars zigzagging about, at the sand, at the exterior of the famous ski slope in Dubai and the stark white of the tall sail-shaped building glittering in the sun. I was at the Pullman Hotel, attached to the Mall of the Emirates, living it up — but was suddenly envious of everyone in London. A few flakes of snow, and that's all anyone is talking about in London and abroad — but the bizarre thing is it pretty much snows every year there. I admit it often lasts only a few days rather than a few weeks or months, as it would in, say, Canada or in parts of the US, but still, snow in London, for some reason, feels like a novelty. I missed it last year and I missed it this year, even though I go to London so very often. The idea of a white Christmas remains just an idea ... well, years ago, before the afflictions of global warming, there was, of course, such a thing, and Christmas was all the more magical for it. But these days, in London, at least, snowfall is delayed mostly till February, even March. The seasons are no longer the black-and-white spring-summer-autumn-winter cycle. Delayed by a couple of months, they've become an oddball mix, adding to the unpredictability of the weather London is so notorious for. And so, taking the kids on a summer vacation might not guarantee the sun, or taking them to London in December might turn out to be surprisingly warm, as it did for me last year. In fact, attending an outdoor wedding in Delhi just a few weeks ago, I felt like I was in a freezer. I wasn't entirely dressed for the occasion, but then no one was expecting such horrific weather — I sat so close to the heated coals that I set my scarf on fire — bit of drama to warm the night, if you ask me. Anyway, that's besides the point. Back to the snow. There hadn't been a day of snow in London and there were already quick repercussions — Heathrow typically cancelling flights at this first hint of snow; trains being cancelled; delays on the underground; and by evening, Facebook filled with wall posts of how "our car got stuck", "had to abandon the car and walk home" and "missing the snow in London, wish I was there", with, of course, more photo evidence of the weather. And I here I was, sitting in the lounge of the hotel, complaining of the air-conditioning ... something I'll never get used to. So for the next few days, as I soaked up the sun by the pool on the 24th floor of Pullman and walked around the mall, I thought I had missed out — but then, coping with the minuses is not my forte, especially after travelling in Asia, living in and out of Dubai and pretty much chasing the sun. A message from a friend — "You're so lucky you're not here" — made me feel better, confirming my suspicions of it not being so much fun, or the fun lasting no more than a day, after which it all turns icy and slippery. Besides, I was recently skiing down the slopes of Lebanon, on gleaming white snow. I smiled, put on my sunnies and sandals and went out into the heat. Later, I would warm up from the evening breeze, which for Dubai is a little cold too, by sitting in the bubbling waters of the Jacuzzi. I guess the whole of London might be envious of me. — For more from Meera Ashish log on to www.talefourcities.com