New Years’ Eve: My Favourite Way to Celebrate

Even better than Christmas, or the summer solstice, New Year’s Eve (capitalising it to show it the respect it deserves) is my single most favourite time of the year. Why? Do I love making self-punishing ‘resolutions’, or drinking overpriced sparkling wine masquerading as champagne? Well, of course not. My love for this time of year goes way back to when I was a little kid.

My parents were business consultants, constantly evaluating processes and striving to improve them. Sometimes this resulted in an embarrassing moment trying to pick up a hire car, and sometimes it resulted in a series of reflections on the past year over a new years’ eve eve family dinner. I remember when I was ten, twelve, fourteen, they were generally only school-related. It’s strange and sometimes odd to reflect on your year as a kid, you have had no real bearing on what you participated in and therefore it’s tricky to make any real plans for the next year. My parents picked the summer holiday destination (Greece), I just went to school. Okay, I had received an A sometimes (sometimes!), and sometimes I got grounded. This New Years’ reflection ritual was boring and tedious for me then, and possibly even a bit cringe-y. Fast forward to adult life, I realised I had never really learned these skills of reflection, they were just assimilated from watching my parents. I’m definitely a culprit of having some seriously deep thoughts on any long train or plane journey, but New Years’ eve is the time to wallow in self-reflection and planning for the next twelve months. I’ve become the reflector I never thought I’d be!

I may seem biased because I made some major personal strides in 2018, and am excited to see where 2019 will take me. It can seem that New Years’ is to celebrate accomplishments, however this is not necessarily true and once the previous year has been reviewed and the emphasis moved towards plans for the next, there is the possibility of feeling less like a victim and feeling more in control. Even if just for one night.

I know, that even on the bad years, especially on the bad years, it was nice to have a ritual to separate ‘now’ me from ‘old’ me going through whatever it was. I know that some years may be good, some tedious, and some downright terrible, but no value can be placed on this point of rebirth and hope. True, though a lot of this excitement often dissipates on Jan 1st, whether due to alcohol or the novelty wearing off when actually being in the new year; it never detracts from the moment of pure anticipation the 31st brings. It’s one night to dress up and celebrate in any way (on the sofa or in a restaurant, alone or with friends) and be reborn.

New Year’s reflections should focus on the year just completed, and plans to do more of what worked or felt good in the next. No new gym memberships, or nicotine patches required. Did you like seeing a specific friend? Text them and make plans to do more! Did you enjoy how waking up 15 minutes earlier every day made you feel? Keep doing it, and maybe throw in some meditation or listening to a podcast! Did you like how you said no to something you did not want to do? Remember to bring that tool out again in the next year if you need it. It’s all about feeling good, and letting your New Years’ reflections be a beacon of light guiding you back to who you are when they are most needed in the next twelve months.

The Art of Simple have a fantastic set of New Year’s Reflection questions, that can either be answered in a journal, or cut out and pulled out of a bowl as a bit of a group exercise. I look forward to doing this particular set of questions with my SO tomorrow, and will definitely keep the answers to compare with this time next year. Give it a try!

High Desert: Palm Springs, USA

Make sure to check out Part 1 and Part 2 of this road trip

 

The first morning in Palm Springs, I knew in my bones I was somewhere else. The light was so different, a hazy glow, that even going through everyday routines felt foreign. Even on the stroll for breakfast and the first coffee of the day, the street seemed to be covered by a halo. Breakfast was from Koffi, an egg-ham-cheese bagel for him, and a fruit parfait for her. Even in late December, the weather was mild enough for a t-shirt.

Koffi coffee

Houses on E. Canyon Drive

Tiredness from the previous day’s mammoth drive, we stayed local and ran some errands. Ed enjoyed the laundromat, the waiting room peppered with heckles from locals aimed at the political coverage on the small television.

At the laundromat

That night we ate at King’s Highway, the restaurant at Ace Hotel. We ate real-deal tacos, and had fabulous cocktails (including a spicy chilli margarita).

King’s Highway at Ace Hotel

Holiday season in the desert

The following day, we ventured south-east towards the Salton Sea. First stop, Shields Date Garden for a famous date shake. I would recommend sharing one with at least one other person, it is huge, thick and heavenly.

The route to the Painted Canyon

Shields Date Garden

At midday, we headed further south-east through citrus grove after citrus grove, the fresh sweet scent lingering in the air. It amazed me to see such vibrant life erupting suddenly from the bone-dry ground. Around two kilometres of dirt road led to the mouth of the Painted Canyon, in the Painted Hills. It wasn’t hard to find the Ladder Canyon, a picturesque slot canyon waving and weaving through the ochre-red rock, following the carving force of water years before. I walked, slow as a trickle of water, running my hand along the curve of the canyon.

The mouth of the canyon trail

Slot canyon path

The namesake ladder

After navigating our way safely through the canyon (someone else was not as lucky and was being airlifted out with a broken leg), we ate pre-packed Reuben sandwiches from Vons supermarket and drove to a destination beyond the scope of our satnav: Salvation Mountain. We reached the nearest town, Niland, barely a one-horse town, and had to just drive into the desert, hoping we could find our destination. And find it, we did.

Salvation Mountain

Salvation Mountain

The view from Salvation Mountain

 

Cirrus clouds flecked the sky, the sun sat low in its winter position in the sky. Looking around from where I stood, all I could see was complete desolation. It was a fantastic feeling. We continued along a dirt road through Slab City, an off-grid community of activists and anarchists, to East Jesus. As the sun slowly lowered in the sky, shadows brought all the sculptures to life in a completely different way. The sound of gunshots peppered the air and, not sure if they were a threat or not, the vibe felt well and truly wild. My imagination ran wild thinking of what life was like here, hidden deep in the desert, free of legal and social convention. On the drive home, the haze-covered, malodorous Salton Sea lay to our left and a mile-long cargo train racing us to our right. Phone batteries dead, we turned on the local radio station; Alice in Chains, Led Zepplin and Black Sabbath blaring out the windows as we drove into the fading sun.

All above: East Jesus

 

On our final day, slightly margarita-hungover and dreading the impending end of our trip, we spent time in the Moorten Botanical Garden admiring the cacti under a heavy grey sky. Hummingbirds darted through the air, jumping from leaf to leaf. An empty semi-circular arrangement of chairs lined a lonely glade under a giant aloe, and I thought about whose wedding it might be arranged for.

Top and bottom, Moorten Botanical Garden

 

 

Check out my follow-on spotlights on Yucca Valley/Joshua Tree and Los Angeles, the finale of out trip.