Historically, my New Years tradition has involved congregating with an amazing group of friends from high school, popping a bunch of bubbly, reminiscing on ridiculous stories from when we used to see each other more frequently, and catching-up on where people’s lives have led since our last shindig.
This year (2018), however, I was unable to get enough time off work to be back in Toronto for both Christmas and New Years, so hatching plans was a bit unusual this year. In addition to the overwhelming pangs of FOMO, brought about from knowing that my friends would be tearing it up in Toronto without me, most people I knew in Lake Louise were either going to be working or spending their evening with their partner. This landed me in a peculiar position, where I really didn’t know of a lot going on to ring in 2019. However, true to form, I decided that I would be annoyed by sitting at home and drinking a glass of champagne with no one else around- on a side note, the anticipated annoyance wouldn’t have been caused by drinking the champers on my own, but rather that there was some sort of societal milestone going on and that I’d be missing an opportunity to make, what I construed as being, ‘the most of it’. I weighed out my options and, since this New Years celebration fell on my version of a ‘Saturday’, I decided to pull an idea out of my playbook, from when all I could do on crutches was repeatedly wander around the streets and sidewalks of Banff like an aimless idiot. So, I booked myself a spot in a Banff hostel for the evening of December 31.
Only a couple of days later, New Years Eve rolled around and I headed out to Banff for my plan-less evening. After arriving in town, I ambled over to the hostel (that I’d come to call ‘home’ when I was in Banff) and checked-in. After assuring the gentleman at the desk that I was a vet at the hostel, meaning there was no need to verse me on their facilities or layout, I headed a few feet next door to grab myself some cider. My next step was locating my room and planting my things at the foot of my bunk (naturally, I was saddled with the glory of being on the top bunk, yet again). Is it just me, or is there an age when, without even realizing it, snagging the top bunk has transitioned from being something to compete for, to being an annoying obstacle between you and sleep?
Once in my room, I tossed a few select items up to my bunk (literally just thew them up there), as if I were preparing to be there for an eternity, and stuffed the rest of my things in a corner of the open-concept wardrobe near the door. I smiled and greeted the other girls, who were buzzing around the room and getting ready for the night. Once I made it up the bunkbed to my perch, I fanned out my things, cracked open a cider, opened up my laptop, and kicked back. I decided to set up shop for a bit because my fellow-hostel-ers were taking turns with the mirror space and trying to freshen up at the same time didn’t seem worth it to me. As I sipped on my cider, with one headphone in, I couldn’t help but pick-up on the excitable conversations these girls were having; they were discussing outfit choices, make-up colour schemes, whether or not they should straighten their hair, and their indefinite plans for that night’s New Years celebrations. The greatest moment in entire process of these girls getting ready occurred as they were just about to head out. They emerged from the mirror-and-sink section of the room (which was around the corner and out of my line of sight), after roughly 45 minutes. My city-brain fully expected to see a collection of mini dresses and high heels be waltzed into the main bunk area…but no. Instead, these girls emerged looking spectacularly comfy. One girl was wearing an actual hoodie, a couple were wearing beanies, two were wearing flannel shirts, one had sweatpants on, and each of them was wearing either sneakers or some form of leather combat boots. As the girls headed out, they wished me a happy New Year and I returned the sentiment from my bunk. They each had a ‘roadie’ in-hand and they filed out the door nattering about some guys they were planning to meet up with. I sat and enjoyed being amused by how wonderfully laidback the Banff New Years dress code and scene were- my kind of vibes.
I headed out shortly after the other girls, with my backpack containing my laptop and gloves (because what sensible person would have their gloves out and on their hands in “feels like” -26°C?). I headed over to Boston Pizza, since I knew they had screens large enough for me to watch the hockey game and actually understand what I was looking at while glasses-less. After finding myself a spot, the bartender came over, offered me a menu, and asked me to refresh his memory on what my name was (BP was a spot I would often go to for dinner and the game when I was in Banff). I think his name was Matt. Instead of immediately becoming consumed with my laptop, I chatted with Matt for a bit and then enjoyed my pizza while watching the preliminary Canada vs. Russia World Juniors game on the monitors behind the bar. As I headed out, Matt wished me a happy New Year and said he’d catch me next time I was in town (I don’t care what anyone says, there is something really nice about being consistent in a café, pub, or restaurant to the point where the staff make you feel like a local).
After wrapping up with dinner, I headed back outside to check out Banff’s New Years festivities on the Main Street (Banff Ave.). There were mini fire pits set up along the middle of the road, where people were roasting complimentary marshmallows on skewers, and a stage set up at the end (near the Elk + Avenue Hotel), where the Mayor of Banff was formally welcoming the crowd and kicking off the lineup for the night. The first act that took to the stage was an Indigenous group delivering a dance and music performance. While I didn’t last outside for very long (SO COLD), it was such a lovely sight to see the crowd enthusiastically clapping and cheering for the group as they braved the cold and shared shades of their culture. One of the greatest sights was a young boy, maybe about eight years old, standing on top of a pillar that housed the walking signal button at the lights. His mother was standing next to him, intermittently glancing up to make sure he wasn’t about to come toppling down. He appeared to really be digging the performance and, as he gripped the metal columns to keep himself steady, he was bopping away and kicking his legs out every now and then while he danced. I realize that I may be splitting hairs with the specificity in explaining what I saw, but the sight of this kid having the time of his life dancing to the Indigenous music struck me as being a such a lovely thing.
As the cold started to creep in, I became intent on seeking refuge indoors and headed around the corner to Earl’s. As per my usual routine there (typically when I’m waiting for the bus back to Lake Louise) I found myself a seat at the bar and pulled out my laptop to tinker away with this website. I ordered myself a pint and tucked into drafting a few blog ideas I had in the back of my mind. Every now and then, I glanced up to look around the room, while listening to a Spotify playlist of songs from Triple J’s ‘Like a Version’ program. It probably sounds a bit creepy, but I’ve always enjoyed observing people, their dynamics, and the general atmosphere of places where I’m hanging out. I consider this tendency to be different than ‘people watching’ because I don’t really get lost in watching specific people, I’m more of an intrigued bystander. Nevertheless, I noticed several couples at the bar enjoying a meal together, a couple groups of guys yukking it up and excitedly ordering rounds of shots, and a few older couples at tables partaking in a dessert to, presumably, wrap up their meals. At one point, as I looked around, a girl sitting next to me tapped my arm and asked if I’d mind watching her seat for a minute. I happily assured her that I’d guard it with my life and off she went. When she returned and thanked me for watching her spot, I asked if she was also flying solo. She informed me that she was. I quickly learned that her name was Kathleen and that she was visiting from Seattle. She said that her boyfriend was supposed to be with her, but that they had broken up before the trip. She explained that she’d always wanted to visit Banff and that she’d decided to make the most of the trip anyways, regardless of whether or not her ex still wanted to make the journey. From the minuscule amount of information she offered up in that span of about 30 seconds, I had already decided that this girl was ‘my kind of people’ and that my night was about to become far more social. I closed my laptop to properly have a conversation.
In response to her explanation of how she’d come to also be sitting at the bar at Earl’s, I told her that I was excited to meet her, since it’s a rare thing for me to come across another female who’s moseyed out to a restaurant on her own. She echoed that sentiment and we became entrenched is an exuberant conversation about the ‘joys of venturing out on your own when the opportunity arises (or when that’s your only option)’. I have little-to-no problem with engaging total strangers in conversation and I become quite invigorated by the opportunity to learn about new people, their stories, and what makes them tick.
There’s a piece I wrote that reflects on a TED Talk I watched by Dr. Judith Fein (which you can find here). In that post, I moon over the idea of ‘travelling to connect’ and the notion that simply keeping an open mind and engaging in a conversation with someone new can become an opportunity to broaden one’s understanding of other people and, perhaps, even oneself. That’s what this particular New Years embodied for me.
As Kathleen and I chatted, we covered a plethora of subtopics, most of which related to the theme of venturing to places alone when there isn’t anyone to go with and learning to be okay with sometimes feeling a bit awkward flying solo in a social setting. She told me that she was originally from Mississippi and that it was a bit of a culture shock moving to Seattle (apparently, people in Seattle have a reputation for seeming a bit standoff-ish at first). Kathleen assured me that Seattlers really are lovely people, though. I laughed in response to this explanation and told her that, that sounded like a challenge I would welcome with open arms, as I’m not really one to let first appearances deter me from getting to know someone. We discussed how I’d lived in Australia and she listened as I gushed about how much I loved it, how the ‘ghost of Melbourne’ is a thing that I continue to chase, and our shared perspective that defining, formative years can influence one’s idea of where, and how, they want to build their life.
When midnight struck, Kathleen and I clinked our glasses and wished each other a happy New Year full of all the adventures and travels. My evening wrapped up with Kathleen heading out from the bar about 15 minutes before I did. We bid each other bon voyage and wished one another happy and safe travels. On my walk back to the hostel, I kept my headphones out, so I could properly appreciate the chatter of people still enjoying the fire pits and walking around the snowy streets.
All-in-all, I had a frigging awesome New Years! Yes, I missed my friends and family big time, but I’d just had such a wonderful night and been lucky enough to welcome 2019 in a stupidly-beautiful, snowy place. I’d spent my evening in a few of my favourite spots in Banff, chatted with staff I’d come to recognize, enjoyed dinner while catching the World Juniors, and met a fellow travel-enthusiast with whom I exchanged travel tales and bonded over our love of seizing new opportunities. In my books, that’s a ‘win’ and I felt lucky to add such a unique New Years celebration to the books.
