1 January 2010
Old, New
For the first time in I-really-can’t-remember-how-long, we went out this year on New Year’s Eve. I know! I’m shocked too! Considering how loudly I’ve protested, historically, against the loudness and crowded-ness and public drunkenness of New Year’s Eve, I forgot my prejudices remarkably quickly once I realized that we’d have some friends in town, that there were things to do that didn’t necessarily involve tacky bars or $50-plus cover charges, and that — as Pete and I get older, and even less likely to challenge ourselves by leaving the apartment unnecessarily — we really had no compelling reason not to. And so we found ourselves on the Metro yesterday evening, the lone couple in sensible, warm winter gear within a field of young women in sheer tights and men in thin, elaborately tailored winter coats and pointy shoes. (It’s warmed up into the 20s, which, though abnormally toasty for this time of year… sheer tights? Come on.)
The most shocking thing about the whole evening was that it wasn’t actually all that crowded. Maybe most of the population did get siphoned off by events requiring cover charges, but our party found itself strolling easily down the cobbled and lightly-snowed streets of Old Montreal; this was the first time that I’ve fully appreciated its potential for genuine, non-touristy ambiance.
We eventually staked out a prime fireworks-viewing spot over the ice-skating rink at the Old Port. The clock on the Molson brewery told 11:50.
“What time do you have?”
“Around… 11:55.”
“My cell phone says 11:57.”
Then, in the crowd around the stage behind us, we heard a vague, rhythmic chanting.
“Are they counting down?”
“What are they saying?”
The mumbly chanting eventually dissolved, and in another minute or two the lights went down on the ice skating rink in front of us, where we heard more mumbly chanting. And that was when we figured out that it was probably 2010. Countdown: Quebec-style!
(Any cynicism about this, the most anticlimactic of new years, was soon overwritten by the fireworks. They do a lot of fireworks in this here town, but it’s still odd to watch them while the snow falls.)
Later on, Pete snapped this shot from outside the Champ-de-Mars Metro station. This is one half of the people waiting to enter, and the line continued across the street and down the block. I somehow do not think that everybody here managed to catch the last train in 20 minutes.
—
Looking back, 2009 was less eventful than 2008, but in a good way. I got myself settled a bit more, did a wee bit of travel, had some good times, and — most importantly — had some time to cogitate on what I want from life, the universe, and everything. After that reflection, 2010 will, I hope, be a year of action, a fuller realization of the Awesome.
Other things I liked in 2009:
- The Wire, which we’ve been watching as slowly as possible in order to make it last. Sigh.
- The Fleet Foxes, which I spent a lot of time listening to while I walked around in winter — even without the name, how is “White Winter Hymnal” not a perfect midwinter song? — and Animal Collective, which I spent a lot of time listening to while I watched spring turn into summer.
- The three consecutive seasons of So You Think You Can Dance US and Canada which aired this year. There is something genuinely moving about watching people who are really, truly dedicated to their art excel on a national stage, and so there was an audible amount of sqeeing every week on the Jejune couch whenever we saw contemporary dancer Tara-Jean effervescently bubble through yet another routine outside of her wheelhouse, or Jakob Karr wheel flexibly through the air.
- Ravelry, which enabled heretofore unseen amounts of obsessive knitting.
Here’s to another goddamn new year!
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SPECIAL BONUS FOOTAGE FOR 2010: Cats in Hats!
