Westworld Alberta

Rick Butler/rixglobalpix.com Columbus Circle are usually the largest, with more than 100 booths apiece. From clever T-shirts to wooden toys, their wares are far better in quality and range than I'd expected. In Brooklyn, I strike gold at the Gifted market, which takes over the grand ground fl oor of an art deco-style former bank building. Under a gilded mosaic ceiling, vendors hawk hand- made jewellery, artisanal sweets and cool vintage treasures. I speed through my gift list and splurge on a cult favourite, locally made Liddabit caramels. Messiah at Carnegie Hall 8 Just before Christmas, I climb the stairs inside Carnegie Hall, passing concertgoers – some in fur coats, some in Doc Martens and some in both at once. The turn-of-the-century new year 9 music venue is renowned for its impecca- ble acoustics, which I hope my novice ears will discern. Handel's Messiah, sung by the Oratorio Society of New York, has ushered in Christ- mas at Carnegie Hall since 1891. From my perch in the uppermost ring, the soprano, tenor and bass look like tiny fi gurines on the 32 WESTWORLD >> NOVEMBER 2011 New Year's Eve fi nds me in sneakers rather than stilettos as I ready for the Midnight Run and Fireworks in Central Park. The night feels like a chilly Halloween, with packs of families and friends dressed up in top hats and feather boas strolling past the snow- banks. Thousands gravitate to the plaza in front of the Naumburg Bandshell, a graceful 19th-century half-dome, for DJed music and dancing, a warm-up for the run ahead. The hordes sandwiched into Times Square (to see the famous New Year's Eve ball drop) wish they had it so good. Polar Bear Plunge 10 Early the next day, I drag my sore carcass onto the F train to Coney Island, hoping to get through the Polar Bear Plunge before it knows better. Each New Year's Day, the Coney Island Polar Bear Club, the oldest (Polar Bear Plunge) Jennifer Paull, (Carnegie Hall) G. Vittoria, (Midnight Run) IKAE At midnight, sparklers fl are and we take off on a 6.5-km loop around the park's two largest bodies of water. Fireworks explode overhead, refl ected in a lake. I'm tempted to stop and stare, but the sooner I reach the fi nish line, the sooner I can raise a glass of champagne. Braving the stage below, but their voices ring out clearly and warmly. The Hallelujah chorus bursts forth like a thunderclap, and the entire audi- ence rises to its feet for the triumphant blast. Running in the Revelling in Handel's (top to bottom) The New Year's Day Polar Bear Plunge on Coney Island; Handel's Messiah at Carnegie Hall; the New Year's Midnight Run and Fireworks in Central Park. winter swimming group in the U.S., coaxes hundreds of masochists into the icy Atlantic. It's surprisingly easy to recruit my friend Kelly, as the plunge is on her bucket list. We know better than to wear wetsuits, since neoprene is considered a gutless getup. Kelly braves it in a bikini, while I peel down to a tank and board shorts, hoping they'll dry quickly after the swim. Once on the beach, we chant and cheer while making our way toward the ocean, crushed so tight there's no turning back. Our fellow swimmers wear everything from Speedos to Hawaiian shirts; a few still have on party hats from the night before. Shuf- fl ing through the sand and snow, I lose feel- ing in my feet before we hit the water. By the time we splash in, the waves feel almost hot

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