By Emily Tennyson
I love New Year’s Eve—anywhere but home. In recent years I’ve welcomed the new year in Montreal, Quebec; Negril, Jamaica; and Antibes, France.
Montreal is a winter wonderland. There’s snow falling on Mont Royal and over the St. Lawrence River. Because the Quebeçois are not fans of salting or shoveling, I found myself falling, too, until I put on some Uggs. But once you get your fashion groove going, you’ll love Montreal, a city that balances la vie française with English sensibility. The bonus? It’s got the culinary charm of the French, minus the language gap. “Oui, vin rouge. Coming right up.”
Start in Old Montreal, at Place Jacques-Cartier, and stroll (carefully) to the most adorable little hotel in Montreal, the Auberge du Vieux-Port (97 rue de la Commune Est, 514-876-0081, www.aubergeduvieuxport.com). Les Ramparts, its restaurant, is tucked into the basement with exposed brick and fireplaces, a wine cellar that won’t quit and a menu featuring much fromage et chocolat. After dinner, visit Notre-Dame Basilica, a beautiful cathedral best known these days, sadly, as the location of Céline Dion’s wedding. Afterward, walk back into the life of youthful revelers: The lively boulevards St. Laurent and St. Denis, both bastions of the chic little bar, stay awake to the point of Lindsay Lohan–esque exhaustion. The lounge at the Ritz Carlton (1228 Sherbrooke West, 514-842-4212, www.ritzcarlton.com/hotels/montreal), where Liz and Dick tied the knot, is the best place to end the night.
By contrast, Negril’s seven-mile beach, strung with little lights on December 31, is barefoot heaven. Bathing suits are considered formal wear, and the New Year’s Eve festivities take place in the sand. For dinner, Alfred’s Ocean Palace (Negril Beach, 876-957-4669, www.alfreds.com) is my favorite: picnic tables, cold Red Stripe beer and reggae Rasta wailings. I ordered snapper and watched Neville, our waiter, leave—probably to catch the fish. “Soon come,” he said, and it did—two hours later. Dance off dinner in the sand at Roots Bamboo, a beachfront night club (Negril Beach, 876-957-4479, www.rootsbamboo.com). At about 11 p.m., the real revelry begins. A beachfront campground becomes a makeshift stage where, one New Year’s eve, Rita Marley played homage to late husband Bob for three hours. Fireworks, luminaria, herbal (ahem) smells and music yield a New Year’s Eve that lasts through most of New Year’s Day. Don’t try to go to bed—it won’t work.
In France, New Year’s Eve is a religious as well as a social event called le réveillon de Saint-Sylvestre, celebrated with Champagne, foie gras and oysters. An ancient Riviera town where Picasso once lived, Antibes boasts the most elaborate marketplace on the coast. New Year’s Eve morning, it’s crammed with amateur chefs grabbing exotic foods. Before dinner, though, nothing says New Year’s Eve on the Côte d’Azur like a visit to Juan-les-Pins, the South Beach of the Riviera, a mile away. Pam-Pam (137 boulevard Wilson, 04-93-61-11-05, www.pampam.fr), surely the only full-on tiki bar on the Mediterranean, hosts a Brazilian dance party with balloons, big rum drinks, tribal dancers and French Polynesian music. After finishing our drinks, we walked back to our lodgings, passing the New Year’s light displays and the open-air holiday markets. That night, tucked behind the market in the 18th-century home we’d rented, we dined on beef tenderloin, Champagne rosé and chocolate mousse. At 6 a.m. the next day, revelers were still circling the market, honking horns and tossing empty bottles into the air. Another happy New Year’s, spent far from home.
Want more ideas? Check www.gayot.com/travel/features/newyears.html for the top 10 places to be when midnight strikes.
