Happy New Year, one and all!
I actually can't believe it's ten years into the 21st century. I rang in 2010 with an air of incredulity.
2009 alone was a memorable year. I moved across the globe and started a life, for starters. But the beginning of a new year got me thinking about where life has taken me over the last several years. Looking back across it is nearly astounding. Did I know, even three years ago, that I would be living in Japan at the start of 2010? Let alone a decade ago? Of course, at the tender age of 14, the future to me never really went beyond that weekend.
But New Year's Eve 2009 was spent in Tokyo, on the brightly lit streets of Roppongi. Wandering backstreets of the neon-illumined district, we ended up in one of the oldest clubs in Tokyo. It was crowded and small, hot and flashy; full of Tokyo fashionistas and foreign invaders. Famous patrons flashed flirtatious smiles from photos on the wall, and glow stick necklaces pulsed with the rhythm of the bass when we found our way into the VIP section. We spent the whole night there, emerging only when the sun peeked over the horizon and the Eastern European models outnumbered the rest of us.
I wish I had something more profound to say about New Year's in such a unique and international city, but this last month has been a whirlwind. I have been entertaining guests as unofficial ambassador to Japan since the 11th of December. And somehow, I found time for a week and half long trip to Thailand in between.
Thailand itself was nothing short of magnificent, and worthy of a post of its own. (Hopefully within a few days time.) Not only was it a truly memorable vacation, but there were a few moments that were, personally, surreal.
For example, I distinctly remember transferring planes at the airport in Shanghai. I was walking along a long hallway, the sun rising but hazy with the pollution from the Chinese metropolis. I was traveling by myself at this point, stopping in China before my final leg back to Japan. Yet there was no fear or trepidation. There had been none maneuvering the massive airport in Bangkok, nor did I anticipate any for the route still ahead of me. Just comfort and an easy confidence in my own ability to get home. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but in that moment that realization stuck me with a sense of surprise and a little pride. It's interesting to see the traveler, and by extension, the person I have become.
But my last two lovely guests leave me on Monday, and then I can heave a sigh of relief and get back to life as usual. Most likely after sleeping for two days, and fully giving in to my hermit-like tendencies. And possibly finding time to collect my thoughts on Thailand, and post as many photos as humanly possible.
So in truth, tonight I just wanted to post something to remind the world that I am still alive and kicking it on the Pacific Rim.
Of course, I needed a valid reason (at least in my own mind) to post something today. So this is a two-fold post. And since I originally intended to post in honor Jane Austen's birthday December 16th, which came and went, I decided to wait till David Bowie's birthday on January 8th.
(Kate, two posts about David Bowie in a row? Surely not.)
Well, believe it.
I wish I could give it more credible beginnings, but thinking back, I believe my first exposure to Bowie was as a wee girl and watching the 1986 Jim Henson classic, Labyrinth, and wondering who that dashing man in tight pants was. But then I hit high school, discovered my passion for music produced before 1983, and the rest, as they say, is history. In college, internet and copious free time began a love affair with his music that has not diminished since.
The man himself turns 63 today. Though in my mind, I think he will be eternally 30 years old, skinny and smoking, looking vaguely continental and shockingly natural. (Or perhaps he's 25; androgynous, masked, and mulleted. Then again, maybe 36; all bleach blond, thin tied, and entirely 80s.)
But no matter the era, the man had remained a relevant icon for 40 years without losing artistic integrity. And even in spite of my love for his music, that fact alone makes him worthy of admiration.
But perhaps that's just the fan in me showing itself.
So Happy Birthday David Bowie, and a belated Happy New Year to the rest of you.
And here's a figurative glass raised to 2010, and hoping it affords me all the 2009 did.
(And because this is a birthday post, I celebrate 2010 with two of my favorite live performances from vastly different Bowies. An amazing version of Drive-In Saturday from 1973, and then a pitch-perfectly subdued Heroes from 1977. Enjoy.)
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