My uncle told me that the Dutch spent 65 Million Euros on fireworks this year. The sounds of blasting lasted until 2am. I have been in Amsterdam to welcome the New Year only one other time. I was 8 years old. We were downtown in the center of the city at a cousin’s home. Bottle rockets bounced off the glass windows of houses lined by small alleyways. Christmas trees burned until morning in the middle of the streets. Car alarms sounded as fireworks exploded under them. It is the only time I ever remember my dad being scared. It reminded him of Vietnam.
This year I was at my uncle’s house. 10, 9, 8, … the sound of explosions begins… 3,2,1. The Champaign is uncorked. Hugs, Kisses, Bohemian Rhapsody is playing in the background (The new years radio countdown to the ‘number one voted classic rock song’ started a week before). We step outside of my uncle’s house. The only thing remaining remotely calm is the water and the boats sleeping on the canal. Everywhere you look, colors spatter the sky: yellow, purple, red. The night is tinted with a soft smoky haze. It thickens with each new firework lit. The smell of burning ash and celebratory cigars. We walk along the canal with our heads glued to the sky. Fireworks everywhere – not the small ones we set off on Zig Zag during the 4th of July. Disneyland fireworks. Bigger than Disneyland fireworks. All around. One after another. A series of bangs and white lights dance on the ground on the other side of the water. Sounds like war – or what I imagine war to sound like. My 80 year old Oma is on my arm. She smiles. her eyes are opened wide. A blast of light explodes on the ground in front of us - a bottle rocket that exploded too soon - before flight. She laughs. My uncle and cousins laugh. I look for something to hide behind.
Despite my uneasiness - caused by 7 year olds lighting firecrackers fifteen feet in front of me - the whole scene is still really beautiful. There is a sense of organization to the chaos. Grandparents, parents, and children enjoying the same form of entertainment. As we walk back to the house I wonder what it is that fascinates us about fireworks. They are loud and obnoxious; they last only a minute. The red bits of packaging debris, like puddles on the street, are the only remnants found the following day. And the smoke they produce is absolutely nauseating.
Maybe it is the dichotomy of sound and sight that is so intriguing. Or maybe the unity it brings. Externalities that force onlookers to take part in a celebration – whatever the celebration may be - on this day especially. People all over the world, albeit at different times and in diverse ways are welcoming the same New Year. I can only imagine what the bright lights must look like from space.
Wishing everyone peace, love, and happiness in 2008.
