NTY ’11 is here. The poorly marketed, inappropriately budgeted “year of tourism” is here, because apparently “once in not enough” in Nepal. Today was the official inauguration to bring in one million tourists. Marked by a ceremony (that I missed but I did see a few pictures), my coworkers and I crowded around the office windows to watch the fireworks over the city.
I watched glittery sperm-like shuttles shoot into the sky and burst into fronds like Whoopi Goldberg’s hair. I stared at the smoke filled horizon as fireworks hissed and exploded and faded into flashes like the paparazzi’s cameras. I listened to the offbeat drum-like booms and the “ooohs” and “aaaahs” of those standing by me. I stood and remembered the fireworks over the Boston harbor on the fourth of July, and I realized – the greens, the reds, the golds and “ncell” purples – it all looked exactly the same here as there.
My thoughts traveled faster than the speed of sound and light and as I watched the glowing heads and spiral tails disappear into blinking fireflies, I realized, no matter where I am – fireworks, as pretty as they are, they’re always a little bit disappointing. They never seem to stay in the sky long enough. There is never enough color. Too few are lit at the same time. It ends to fast. Fireworks – they don’t satisfy.
But the next time I hear the distant echoes, I’ll probably still try to find a spot to watch the night sky turn into fragments of the rainbow.