And a Happy New Year!

Goodbye 2K6, bid hello to new-born kid brother 2K7. It's 7 PM in Sydney on the 31st of December, and men and women come down into the streets by the thousands, a crowd of casually worn jeans, elegantly showed off evening dresses, random sightings of a man in scottish attire complete with kilt, a tiny woman quietly weaving her way in a kimono; all those massive throngs of people from all over town, all over the world, all converging towards the seafront, towards the shiny promise of the brightest, noisiest, craziest fireworks to come. Roads are closed off to cars, and the whole bunch of us humans claim them to ourselves. You would think it's a powerful demonstration, you'd think it's war breaking out, you'd think it's an exodus, but no - it's New Year's Eve in Sydney, gaudy lightsticks of all forms and manners already glittering on heads, ears and chests.

By the time we get to Circular Quay, half of it has already been sealed off, full to the brim, unable to take any more. Entrance to the Botanic Gardens, where we naively hoped to go see the fireworks from Mrs Macquaries Point, is strictly restricted to ticket holders and VIPs. We wind our way among this overflowed river of tourists and locals, to go back on our tracks and search for another way, elsewhere.

In the end, we walk along the Rocks up to Dawes Point, finding a spot so close to Harbour Bridge we're almost right under it, with a clear view of the Opera House on the other side. We sit amongst others, and count ourselves lucky - it's a nice vantage point, even if probably not the best, and here the crowd has thinned out enough so we can actually breathe. Believe me, that's not the case everywhere, as we'll come to see later on. The family fireworks start at 9 PM and we watch them happily pressed again the railing, hugging the fence.

That's all well and done, but I'm beginning to feel the first pangs of hunger. We leave our spot, praying it'll stay there and wait for us, to go hunt for food. A roast beef & gravy roll later, we decide to try our luck at another vantage point, at Campbell Cove. The place is positively packed with people sitting cramped together everywhere, leaving just a thin queue of us to try making our way to find a spot of our own. Unfortunately, we can but stomp around waiting, for no room is left. Stuck in the middle of madness, it seems we can neither go back or forth, squeezed between bodies, afraid to step too heavily on a finger or toe, and it takes a hot-tempered drunkard angrily pushing a short Japanese man aside to finally prod us into action, for I don't want to wait and see what's next. We hold hands and aim for the flanks, diving into the crowd to make our escape, shouldering our way through.

Finally, to breathe again.

We're soon back at our spot at Harbour Bridge, and settle down there for good. Brain, Heart and Courage are the values projected on the wall above, and I can see how you need'em all to tackle the crowd. On the bridge, the red question mark keeps shining, until replaced by a diamond of gold. Trumpets and whistles, shouts and chit-chat rhythm our wait, until the final countdown to midnight appears, the HAPPY NEW YEAR concluding it sending the crowd into a roar, the fireworks into explosion, the night into a burst of lights, the river a twirl of reflected colors. Next to us, a girl jumps up to grip the railing, sending her fist into the air, screaming at the top of her lungs from the look of her, though you can hardly hear it amidst the ruckus of a million voices. Joyful chaos celebrates the end of a great year and welcomes the beginning of another and then, just like that, it's already over, the last sparks gently falling down on the water, clouds of powder-scented smoke caught into the breeze, people milling out. In the city, the human river is flowing once again, taking up all the space, on the footpaths, on the road, everywhere - people walking home, people headed for a bus stop or train station, people going to party on elsewhere.

We quickly catch a train to go back home to the warmth and peacefulness of our blanket and pillows.

Good night, New Year.