Germans love New Year's Eve so much they call it Silvester.

In many northern European countries New Year's Eve is referred to as 'Silvester'. Another way to think of it is that Silvester is the name given to the last day of the year. It changes the meaning of the holiday slightly. Instead of subsuming December 31st into the approaching shadow of the next year, Silvester is a celebration of the End. The end of a year, the end of old habits and the end of a week long holiday celebration that begins on Christmas and is sustained through the earliest hours of the year to come. However, endings do not have pre-parties. You only celebrate the anticipation of beginnings.

This led to some confusion with our dinner party on Sunday night which I titled 'Silvester-Eve dinner party' in the e-mail invitation. Silvester is new to me and I thought it would be fun to combine both customs and throw a pre-party for the end of the year, ie. Silvester's-Eve (or New Year's Eve-Eve). This did not translate well across cultures as much as I had hoped and caused some confusion amongst our German guests.

Silvester was one of the largest celebrations I have ever witnessed (and we have the photos and video to prove it). For Silvester 2007 we attended three parties: one for the past, one for the present and one for the future. The party for the past was a reunion of 12 Danish artists held in an apartment in Neu Köln. The present was a party at BootLab in one of the most famous artist squats in the Mitte. The party for the future was a collage in an apartment turned disko, called Foto-Shop.

The celebration started on Christmas when the first fireworks started ringing throughout the city. For the next week the explosions multiplied until reaching a sustained cacophony that lasted well into 2008. By last Friday, walking through the streets was causing me to jump out of my skin as I turned corners and M-80's would explode just meters away. This city, which had been bombed more than a few times in the last century, was ringing again like a war-zone. After a few days my nerves settled but the explosions continued.

To begin Silvester we met up with two of our friends from Denmark staying at an artist residency in Kreuzberg, The Berlin Office. After meeting up we headed off to dinner at an Indian restaurant where they had 21 seats on reservation for a group of their Danish friends whom had all attended art school together. Most of which are now living in Berlin. We managed to doge most of the fireworks, only one skipped across an intersection hitting Hk squarely on the leg. These are not just bottle rockets or roman candles (most common on Independence Day in America) but everyone was throwing shotgun shell sized explosives. This one happened to come from a teenager with a yellow back pack walking down the sidewalk dropping them in his wake. Hd & Hk brought up the public campaigns that are held in Denmark this time of year encouraging everyone to wear a pair of specially designed safety glasses distributed by their government.

By the time we reached the restaurant dodging fireworks had become a game and i was beginning to enjoy it as much as the kids throwing them. Our table was located in a decadent tent adjacent to the restaurant complete with tapestries, a fountain, and more Buddah statues than I could count.



The group of Danes were incredibly nice. I struggle enough with German that there was no hope in keeping up with their Danish reunion. Their capacity for English was incredible, with only minor accents. The attributed this to their immersion in American movies as they grew up. In Denmark, I learned, that movies are screened in their original language (except for cartoons) and in Germany movies are dubbed over with German voices. We spoke about the differences in American and Danish universities and I bemoaned hearing about their tuition-free schools and the government assistance some receive while studying in Berlin. Not to mention that the Danish currency is stronger than the Euro.

S and i were having a great time and decided to continue on to MK's apartment to ring in the new year (or wring-out the old year?) Danish-style. We were warned that there were no chairs in the apartment and the only light in the kitchen was the one inside the oven. The kitchen light had fallen weighed down by paper streamers that were hung earlier in the day while one of the plastic recycling bins burned in the street outside their window. (No doubt due to a rogue firework.) A few people brought chairs of their own for the party. Upon arrival we passed around shots, got to know each other better, and waited for midnight. Our plans to meet SS and BH at the next party were post-poned until 2008.



When midnight arrived we set off fireworks in the house (in Europe they have small indoor table fireworks), the Danes took turns standing on a chair and 'jumping' into the New Year, then everyone got in a circle and sang a Danish New Year's song. This was followed by a round of hugs from everyone. Outside fireworks dotted every block of the city and did not stop until morning.



Around 1 am we decided to make the move and go back to the Mitte for the next party at the art collective. SS was not answering her phone, you never know if it is their fault or your fault or your pre-paid minutes have run out. I knew how to find the building and we figured we would wing it from there. The streets were littered with fireworks. We watched a guy light one off in his hand, then stare at it in disbelief (or pain). The subway tunnels in Neu Köln, with their reverberating acoustics, were no escape from the firework celebration.



The train ride was exciting, one of those rare ecstatic chaotic moments that makes anarchy sound fun. We transferred trains at Alexanderplatz and the station looked like rush-hour on the subways in New York. People everywhere.



When we arrived at Friedrichstraße the streets were blocked off by police. Wandered through the crowds, the confetti, and the broken glass until we found our destination. The archaic bombed-out train station building covered in murals and surrounded by people. SS was still not answering her phone, but remember this was our party for the present in the trilogy. Being present in Berlin means ready for anything and aware of how things change around you constantly. I knew that if we had made it this far we would find SS and BH. S needed to use the bathroom and we found a non-descript door that opened onto a private party, so we turned around. A few seconds later BH came bursting out of the door, we found them. We hung out for an hour or so, listening to the DJ and watching the iTunes style screen saver projections. This party had already climaxed and most of the people left were sitting around observing their surroundings and the events taking place through the windows outside. At this point we decided to make a move and walk with SS onto the next party near Rosenthalerplatz.

As we walked through the streets there was no sense of time, the year was too young for it to be late. We found the address and went upstairs to her friend L's apartment. We barged in on 5 or 6 somber people sitting around a table. (Turns out one of them teaches architecture at the Bauhaus in Weimar, really.) The party was being held in the apartment downstairs which appeared to regularly host parties under the name Foto-Shop. The walls were lined with large photographs, hung salon-style, a DJ played in the middle room and the kitchen was converted into a bar, serviced by a table that blocked the door. Most of the rooms were relatively unoccupied so we congregated in the room where people were dancing. The DJ's were playing a sound that was pure Berlin, a kind of industrial-pop. Danceable beats punctuated by crushing electronic samples, it was intoxicating. We piled our coats in the corner and danced to the new year. Collaged amongst the walls of photos we were in a country where we barely speak the language, in an apartment turned disko, listening to music that made you dance and thrash. It was perfect.