The best end-of-year celebrations are the most random ones, Sarah Riches believes.
For most of us, as another year comes to an end and a new one begins, it’s a time of reflection. Thinking about my 2013-2014 New Year soiree has got me reminiscing about past ones – and heck, have they been random.
There was the time when ten pals and I climbed a snowy mountain for the first sunrise of the year – and not one of us thought to take a torch. Chartering a boat around Hong Kong’s Victoria harbour under fireworks was beautiful; the time Edinburgh’s Hogmanay was cancelled after bad wind made a Portaloo fly down the street, less so. Must have been some bad wind.
I’ve celebrated the clock striking midnight hot and sweaty at a traditional Scottish ceilidh, tap danced down London’s Oxford Street and shimmied on tables with Turks. But nothing will beat my conga in Korea.
Wanting an adventure, ten years ago I spent a fortnight alone in South Korea over the festive period. Come Christmas Day, I donned a Santa hat and joined a tour of Gyeongju, a small historical city in the south east. I’d meet people on the tour, surely, I thought. Sure enough, there were 30 of us – 28 Koreans who didn’t speak English and an overweight Japanese man wearing a suit (on Christmas Day?).
‘I am Kamenosuke,’ he said. ‘My name means turtle’s helper.’
‘I’m just Sarah,’ I replied.
‘Me ri Kurisumasu,’ he said.
Eh? Me-ri Ku-ris-mas-u?
Ah! ‘Merry Christmas,’ I smiled.
Kaneosuke – I mean Kamnosuke, no, Kamenosuke – OK, Jim and I, spent the day exploring the city, which turned out to be best known for some mounds. They may well have been fascinating ancient royal tombs, but without translation they were just mounds. Never mind, I still celebrated with Christmas dinner. It wasn’t your usual turkey and trimmings at home, but still, I relished tucking into a bowl of bibimbap – rice and spicy veg with a raw egg on top – in a roadside diner.
That night, I met a young Canadian woman in my hotel. A native English speaker! I felt like all my Christmases had come at once. Cheers, Santa.
I spent New Year’s Eve in the capital, Seoul, with five people from my hostel. Like thousands of others, we flocked to the centre for the annual Boshingak bell-ringing ceremony. But it was so crowded, within minutes we’d lost three of our group. The waves of people pushing and shoving meant both my feet left the ground at one point – and yet I didn’t fall because there was no space to. ‘Hang on to the lamppost!’ I shouted to my pal, feeling like a shipwreck survivor at sea. But at 2 metres away, it was out of reach.
Thankfully, the bell chimed midnight and the crowd dispersed a little – then the celebrations really began. Firecrackers and fireworks darted off in all directions – never mind health and safety – and people hollered while men beat taiko drums. Men, women, kids, Koreans and foreigners held hands and danced in a circle and before I knew it I was doing the conga in Korea. Soon after I realised my wallet had been stolen, but that didn’t put a damper on the night. Okay, so I had raw egg for Christmas lunch, nearly got trampled and blinded and lost Dhs500 but ten years on, it’s still one of my best ever New Year’s.
My plans for this New Year’s Eve – my first in Abu Dhabi – are yet to be decided. But one thing’s for sure, I’ll be doing something to remember come 2023…
