T-2 months to New Years......time to plan a trip!
My sophomore year of college, I spent New Year's Eve with a college buddy and a high school best friend - both named Brian. We went to Times Square.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. We planned to get into the City by about 6 pm, grab some food, then walk from Grand Central over to Times Square. We kept on getting shuffled uptown, though, because streets were closed off and security wasn't letting us through, finally crossing to 7th Ave in the mid-50s. And there we stood for the next five and a half hours.
Oh, we moved. The police would occasionally open the metal barriers and the crowd would rush forward. I had to grab Brian and Brian's coats, so as not to lose them in the stampede. We could smell the pizza joints that were earning cash hand over fist from the groups who had called in a pepperoni pie order for delivery to the sidewalk. For us, there were too many people in the way who'd sneaked in plastic flasks to guzzle their potent potables. We were jealous, until they started complaining about the lack of toilet facilities around ten. By midnight, we were bored, shivering, still eight blocks away, unable to hear the concerts and barely able to see the ball drop. It was anticlimactic, and we still had a train ride home.
For a while after that, I'd celebrate with small groups at home (pro: cheap champagne), or meet up with friends at a bar (con: inability to hear the television countdown). For all the hype, I thought it would be more fun.
And then we went to Aruba.
Suddenly, I was liberated. Without a boyfriend in tow, there was no expectation to have someone to kiss. Dick Clark's Rocking New Year's Eve wasn't on television, so I could look away from the television, down my drink, flirt with some Vancouverites, and dance with abandon at the tiny piano bar we'd adopted as our own.
For New Year's last year, I hopped a flight to Europe. I was in love with Munich from the moment I arrived at the Hauptbahnhof (central train station) in the early dawn. Tipped off about Silvester by Markus, an industrial designer and volunteer firefighter that I'd met when his fire department invaded my Irish pub the previous night, and fortified by glühwein, I thought I was ready for the celebration. I was not.
At midnight, with a ragtag crew of international hostel kids in tow, I arrived in the center of the city. I couldn't hear voices - every twenty feet, another group was setting off fireworks in the middle of the street - so I just twirled. My neighbors uncorked a champagne, dousing my hair with the spray, then included me as they passed around the bottle. Above me, the long yellow-white fuses that I call weeping willows were tracing arcs across the sky, punctuated by bright white corkscrews and red and green globes. A quick pop behind me and confetti suddenly started settling on my head. I grinned.
The apparently unregulated mix of explosive devices, alcohol, and children gave me an overwhelming satisfaction. It was not "America safe," nor the structured entertainment of Times Square, but it was a pure and authentic celebration. It engaged my mind and my spirit. It made me feel alive.
I chase that feeling, so this year I'm looking at going abroad again. My best friend votes for Banff or Jasper, Alberta. It should be pretty close to a new moon at the turn of the year, so we can hope for the Northern Lights to appear as we ice skate on a torch-lit lake.
Where would you go?
My sophomore year of college, I spent New Year's Eve with a college buddy and a high school best friend - both named Brian. We went to Times Square.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. We planned to get into the City by about 6 pm, grab some food, then walk from Grand Central over to Times Square. We kept on getting shuffled uptown, though, because streets were closed off and security wasn't letting us through, finally crossing to 7th Ave in the mid-50s. And there we stood for the next five and a half hours.
Oh, we moved. The police would occasionally open the metal barriers and the crowd would rush forward. I had to grab Brian and Brian's coats, so as not to lose them in the stampede. We could smell the pizza joints that were earning cash hand over fist from the groups who had called in a pepperoni pie order for delivery to the sidewalk. For us, there were too many people in the way who'd sneaked in plastic flasks to guzzle their potent potables. We were jealous, until they started complaining about the lack of toilet facilities around ten. By midnight, we were bored, shivering, still eight blocks away, unable to hear the concerts and barely able to see the ball drop. It was anticlimactic, and we still had a train ride home.
For a while after that, I'd celebrate with small groups at home (pro: cheap champagne), or meet up with friends at a bar (con: inability to hear the television countdown). For all the hype, I thought it would be more fun.
And then we went to Aruba.
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| Aruban New Year, complete with fireworks, party hats, and a sarcastic musician who allowed us to buy his least favorite tunes. The elderly gentleman from Guadalajara on the left is Tiffany's new best friend. The piano man is on the right. |
Suddenly, I was liberated. Without a boyfriend in tow, there was no expectation to have someone to kiss. Dick Clark's Rocking New Year's Eve wasn't on television, so I could look away from the television, down my drink, flirt with some Vancouverites, and dance with abandon at the tiny piano bar we'd adopted as our own.
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| Admittedly not my finest moment. (Thanks, Emily Mooren.) |
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| Shortly after dawn at the glühwein (mulled wine) bar next to the public ice skating rink, Karlsplatz, München. It was about here that I realized Markus had not been talking about his buddy Sylvester's week of partying, but rather the Feast of St. Sylvester - a 4th century pope. Our patois of German and English was perhaps not as effective as we thought. |
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| Christoph (South Africa), Matt (Australia), and Yulia (Russia) hop onto the bar just before midnight. Everyone else leans over the bar and out of the frame to get the bartenders' attention. |
I chase that feeling, so this year I'm looking at going abroad again. My best friend votes for Banff or Jasper, Alberta. It should be pretty close to a new moon at the turn of the year, so we can hope for the Northern Lights to appear as we ice skate on a torch-lit lake.
Where would you go?
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