postcard 16: new years day
A short note to start 2024.
The fireworks having been going off for weeks now. Mostly firecrackers, giggling teenagers lighting them and then running away, a big boom that sends Hazelnut scooting under the bed even though her shoulders are too tall to get back out. She thumps her tail loudly until someone coaxes her onto her side and slides her to freedom. Sometimes our bedroom windows light up with a flash of red or green, of course followed by a boom, as flares are lit.
We’ve entered hibernation mode and haven’t left the apartment except to walk the dog, spending our days reading books and playing cards and drinking coffee to wind down the year. On New Year’s Eve, the fireworks start to ramp up as the afternoon wears on. The occasional explosion we’ve been hearing in the past few weeks ramps up to war zone status before darkness even hits and I pet Hazelnut, promising it will be over soon.
The plan wasn’t to stay up until midnight but we can’t help it as our street moves into a fervor, more people than I thought lived in all of Pula lining the roads, fireworks going off from every direction. Big, professional grade ones get set off right above the houses, the sparks raining down on apartments and cars. Our neighbors aim roman candles seemingly at our balcony and as the minutes count down the street erupts. It’s madness and perfectly encapsulates our first year living abroad. We duck inside from our spot on the terrace as a roman candle comes a bit too close for comfort and giggle at the absurdity of it all.
A hatch of teeny, tiny spiders has moved into the Christmas tree and we squish dozens of them as we undecorate it sooner than I ever have before. We can’t find any information on recycling it and we certainly aren’t infesting our new long term rental car, so we wait until the lights go off in the apartment of the old woman above us who spends her days watching all the comings and goings from her window with a judgmental eye. I hold the doors and act as lookout, Topher runs the tree down the stairs and out to the garbage, shoving it in the dumpster so the lid closes.
Alongside the spiders we’re chasing mildew around the apartment, the humidity hovering so near 100% the sheets often feel wet. It blooms in strange green patches on the wall and the internet assures us its harmless but I’m still creeped out. Topher valiantly sanitizes the walls and I move the fans around. We buy two dehumidifiers and run the AC for as long as we can stand it wearing sweaters and beanies and socks. I’m missing Colorado’s desert air something fierce.
We make goals and plans for the new year in fresh planners we’ve walked halfway across town to find waiting for us at the post office. Work starts again and I try to balance finding grounding with the onslaught. That’s my word for 2024: grounded. Along with awe and whimsy. I’m eager to see what this new year has in store.
A short note as we get back in the swing of every day life,
—Mikaela