New Year's Eve in Vienna
Vienna, On The Eve of A New Year
Finish as you mean to go on. This is what I told myself in an attempt to drag my ever-so-slightly hungover arse out of bed to go and run around Vienna on the 31st of December. It was a cold and windy morning but something was in the air. It was a whiff of excitement, possibility and if I'm not mistaken, champagne?
It’s customary, apparently, to have champagne or sparkling wine with salmon for breakfast on new years eve in the Austrian capital. I was suspicious of this as a tradition but every cafe and train station coffee window seemed to carry bottles of fizz corked in a metal cage for an exorbitant price, so who was I to disagree.
We didn’t have salmon for breakfast but heading out just after midday to witness the city dolling itself up for a new year, the bars and cafes were packed to standing room only or woolly-hatted in the cold street.
Every year, the city organises the ‘Silvesterpfad’ or ‘New Year’s Eve Trail’ with stages and events around the city centre. People in warm coats flow through the streets taking in the entertainment on offer all leading up to the big moment.
Riding the packed humming escalator up to Stephansplatz, the stone ivory tip of St. Stephen's Cathedral came into view and the metal din swept into an orchestral sound, a waltz. Our entrance into the first district was scored like the opening credits of a film about finding love on New Year’s Eve. Walking around this place with its tall, proud buildings like monuments to grandeur, I understood how one could fall in love.
Especially crowded were stalls selling glühwein in ceramic, mushroom-shaped mugs as well as sparkling wine in small glass flutes adorned in phrases like ‘New Year Vienna’ and ‘Happy New Year’. Getting swept up, I managed to convince myself that I could start drinking a mixture of hot and cold wine at 2 in the afternoon and still make it to midnight on both feet. My partner wisely convinced me to the contrary.
We followed the trail around to Graben, a breathtaking square in the city with outdoor chandeliers as Christmas decorations. They’re impressive at night but in daylight they shimmer and sway in the breeze, catching daylight and throwing it back at us in ways you never see from a static and now, to me, dull indoor chandelier.
In only a few days this square went from a bustling shopping area to the world's most glamorous outdoor ballroom, holding free dance classes for the public to brush up on their waltzing skills. It’s customary after midnight, not to sing Auld Lang Syne but to dance a waltz with someone near and dear to you. Walking past I got a preview of couples, young and old, embracing and retracing the steps of this special dance. One couple had broken away from the group and waltzed joyously in the street, unable to be contained by the lesson; dancing freely, like the chandeliers above them.
A stall selling neon hats and glasses for revellers attracted my attention. I was on the lookout for 2024 glasses, the kind where you looked through the middle of the zero and the neck of the two, but they were already sold out and on the faces of people around us. At the far left of the stand were green bottles of sweet sparkling wine, sekt. It was ours for the NYE inflated price of €10, but it was worth it to have something to pop at the right time.
The sun was setting on this last day so why not see in the darkness with a Jamiroquai tribute band? Jamiroquai Reloaded took to the stage and to my surprise, they not only sounded great but they managed to get this cold Austrian crowd dancing, which was even more impressive considering their champagne and salmon from the morning will have worn off. Although, while their name was acceptable for a tribute band, I think they should have named themselves Jamiroq-WHY instead.
As it was now 5 o'clock somewhere, specifically Vienna, we decided to get a preview of our midnight tipple and had a couple of glasses of sekt from a stand near the stage and kept a hold of the glasses for later on. One glass had the image of a cartoon pig on it, a symbol of good luck that you are to exchange with others at midnight. Sipping a cold drink in cold air, at least it wouldn’t go warm?
Passing another stand in the city, my partner wanted to purchase a small good-luck-pig of his own, the price was shown as €2.50 but the trader handed back the 50 cent piece and wished us happy new year in German and English.
With midnight getting closer, we managed to squeeze through the crowd and get a half-decent spot in view of the stage at Rathausplatz, which felt like the centre of the festivities. “Falco, In Concert” had the job of leading us into ‘24 with a live show that featured a band, surprise artists and paid tribute to the locally born but internationally known Falco. They rocked us into the last few minutes of the year.
It was time, 10. The street buzzed, 9. Numbers started to count down on the town hall, 8. I realised everyone around us was counting down in German, 7. I attempted to join in, 6. But I got confused and think I shouted ‘cinq’ in excitement, 5. Sparks began to light up from the stage, 4. I looked around to take it all in, 3. This was it, 2. Here we go, 1. Prosit Neujahr!
Kisses were exchanged, as well as gifts. He handed me the small pig, I handed him the glass of sekt with the pig on it and the new year was toasted. The street was so tightly packed that when The Blue Danube came on, the whole crowd just waltzed together in one homogeneous group, forward and back. We were treated to an official 8 minute laser show and unofficial fireworks as flashes of light went off all around the city. It was special - cold, but special.
My feelings are complex on New Year's Eve, or Hogmanay. I’m excited, yes, but I’m also sad and anxious. Excited for the celebrations. Sad for those we think of at the turn of the year who used to turn into it with us, but don’t anymore. Anxious for how I spend my final few hours, as if at the stroke of 12 I'll be held accountable for them and made to explain why I didn’t do more or try harder. But when it comes, the next year doesn't judge the previous one. It welcomes you in, letting you carry on and try again.
Cynics both wise and foolish suggest that it’s one year closer to your last - why mark it? I believe we should. We need to give ourselves a chance to start over. To feel like we can be better, happier or have a chance to celebrate that we’re fine as we are.
There’s no right or wrong way to start again; everyone seeks to do it in their own way. Either with Auld Lang Syne or a waltz, champagne or whisky, but we all do one thing in unity. We gather in the cold, near people we hold dear, take them in close and tell them they are loved. So as the earth swings around again, holding on to them makes the cold worthwhile.
