On memory of Bonfire night...

We learn something new everyday. Today, I read that the bonfire in November, which I knew was to commemorate the plot to overthrow British parliament in 1605, has a proper name: Guy Fawkes Night.

Everytime I read about bonfire, that memory would always flash across my eyes: It's me riding my rinky-dink bike up a highway in Coventry in the Midlands, on that night coming back from lectures in college, with my friend ("little brother" Kenneth) who shared an apartment with me living off-campus. It was a smokey night. I didn't even realize it's the bonfire night. But I like the smell of burning. I wasn't very good at riding, so Kenny would ride to the top, and stop there to wait for me to push my bike up. (Pathetic, isn't it.) When we got to the top, we saw bonfire in a number of places. I was pleasantly surprised, seeing the bonfire and smelling the wood-burning smoke.

I later read up on bonfire and its origin, but I never knew its proper name was Guy Fawkes Night. Well, like I said, we learn something new everyday.

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The smelling of smoke actually evokes deeper, also pleasant, memory of mine. I grew up, living right across a Chinese temple. It's a sizeable, famous one. People from afar would come and pay homage to it, and it's always very crowded and rowdy on Chinese festivals. I like that happy, cheery environment. I like to sit by the kitchen table which allows me a panoramic view of the environ from dawn till dusk. (Faithfuls would come pre-dawn before temple opens, and would still come after it closes by dusk.) I like the trees, the temples, the burning of incense sticks, all the food and chatter of people and kids. How I love that smell of burn.

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I remember I read somewhere about olfactory sense and its strong relationship to memory. I can attest to that notion, that smells (and to a large extent, taste - of food) bring me back memory, time and again. It never fails.