The fireworks war zone



Happy New Year!  This past month has been a flurry of activity. The mothership landed for a 3 week visit and I was busy whisking her around to Paris, Austria and Prague. I definitely have a backload of stories, but first, my story of how I brought in 2012!

I’ve never been a fan of New Year’s eve. All those hopped up expectations of the year ahead, overpriced drinks, too much drunkenness and Auld Lang Syne. Seriously. Is there a more depressing song? I blame that song and too much alcohol for almost always crying on new years eve (what? I’m a girl. It’s what we do)

So this year, when trying to firm up New Year’s eve plans, I wanted to avoid anything that would involve that atrocious song with the atrocious lyrics of “let old friends be forgot”, smoochy couples and anything that would remind me of how could life “can” be if you live somewhere normal. So I went to Berlin with my (only) single girlfriend.

All I knew about New Year’s eve in Berlin is that it’s big. As in biggest party in Europe big. I’m not a fan of clubs on New Years eve and I’m even less of a fan of crowds. But I didn’t have any expectations. If living in Germany for the past year has taught me anything, it’s to roll with the punches (preferably repeatedly)

The celebration in Berlin gathers around the Brandenburg gate. One of the gates that separated East Berlin from the West during the Cold War. It then extends a couple of kilometers in what’s called the “party mile” C and I went early on New Year’s eve to figure out the best strategy of how to approach said mile. We thought we had a solid plan but it involved walking, a subway, a massively confusing transfer at the Berlin main train station, another train and another subway (all this and the distance was only 2km from our hotel) So we decided to walk there from our hotel. However, our plans were thwarted since we couldn’t access any of the entrance gates from our side of Berlin. So we improvised.

We ended up at what’s normally a little cafe. They hired a dj and were selling inexpensive prosecco. How can you go wrong?

Coming from Canada, the land of over alcohol regulation, I’m constantly amazed at the fact that public drinking is not only not frowned upon but totally ok and expected. I’m learning that at any such large festivities, bars , restaurants and cafes have drinks/alcohol you can buy “to go”. Also, I’m familiar with the New Year’s tradition of launching fireworks. Though “safety first” is not exactly my middle name, I feel like the excessive public drinking, fireworks and confined spaces is not a good combination. Call me crazy.

At the risk of sounding offensive, I honestly felt like I was in a war zone. There was shrapnel everywhere and the noise was amazingly loud. If I believed in reincarnation, I’d be inclined to think I was reincarnated from a soldier killed in battle, I was that petrified/paranoid of the close proximity to the fireworks. I was convinced I was going to get one in the eye or a lit one land on my head (and since it’s taken me 38 years to learn to like my hair, I didn’t want to risk a Michael Jackson-Pepsi commercial incident).

Thankfully, there were plenty of souvenirs selling hats. Because subtlety and I aren’t acquainted, I went for the most suitable option: a metal replica army helmet. Excessive to some, yes, but, it was perfect for the task at hand. In more ways than one.

Did people laugh at me? Hell yeah. Was I protected against fire and shrapnel? An even bigger hell yeah! There were a few things I wasn’t prepared for though with my choice of headwear. The annoyingly loud noise of people knocking on my helmet and the fact it could be considered a weapon.

At one point in the evening, a man in the crowded cafe made a beeline for me and said “I love your hat! It brings back such memories, I’m a fighter!” me “a fighter? A fighter of what” him “A Libyan freedom fighter” and then he attempted to kiss me on the lips. And knocked his head on the metal brim of my protective headwear. Helmet bonus points: keeping strange men from kissing you on the lips unexpectedly.

I quickly learned that the metal brim of my headwear was coming in handy. Though I seemed to miss the actual bell of midnight (there was no countdown and fireworks had been going all night) I realized it was midnight when random people came up to kiss me. Or rather, try to kiss me. I’m pretty sure there are a dozen people out there with a cut across the brim of their nose from the metal edge of my headwear. What? Celebrate 2012 with a bang and a few scars I say!

Looking back, the complete disregard for safety of the fireworks shouldn’t have surprised me. Sure, it’s taboo to jay walk, but driving on the autobahn 200+ km/h is fine. But I was honestly in awe of the absolute shit show the streets were. I mean you have more than two million people crowded in the streets of Berlin and the things were going off every meter. On sidewalks, streets, top of cars, you name it. Usually they were launched out of bottles. So that’s an extra safety feature, flying glass on top of rockets. Also, what’s ironic is that given the surroundings, you’d think that people would be a little sensitive to noises that pretty much simulates bombs. Yeah I know the war ended more than a half century ago, but the fact that bombs likely landed within meters of the celebrations wasn’t lost on me. Thankfully, I felt safe in my headwear.