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choco_froshOne of the ways in which Germans are very uninhibited is that they have very little hesitation about looking in one's windows. This was brought home to me with particular force around five yesterday afternoon, when a trio of strangely dressed (and slightly tipsy) people were looking in at me as I sat at my computer, commenting on the apartment and tapping on the window to tell me I should come out. I did, so they would get off my case.
"Ho Narro!"
"Ho Narro! Why are you still inside? You should be out partying! Are you working? Are you Swiss??"
"You're right..." "You're Swiss?" (Apparently they have a reputation for being excessively hard-working)
"No, I'm actually American. I meant..."
"Oh, you're American?" [Usual round of 'Where in America are you from?', etc., follows] "Do you live here? You should know that there's going to be a parade going down this street in two hours--you should probably close the shutters. And you should wear a sort of long white dress..."
I already did know that, actually. There's a tradition of dressing up in nightshirts on Schmötzige Donrstag (Dirty Thursday, the beginning of Carnival, for those with short memories). So I'd taken Grace's nightdress up to the Uni for their Fasnacht party earlier that afternoon, only to discover that it ended at three--greatly to the distress of Grace (wearing multiple sets of clothing and a bath brush in her guise as the "Shower witch") and her Tandem Partner, who'd arranged to meet her at...3:15. We chatted for a bit anyway with her and a Swabian Texan whose family runs a vineyard, then went back to the important task of checking email.
But I didn't know that the parade was happening at 7, specifically. So I rushed dinner onto the table, and then Grace and I got attired again, armed ourselves with chocolate, and headed out.
There were no Blätzle this time, but EVERYONE in the street seemed to be wearing nightshirts (an optical illusion--there were plenty in pirate outfits, Waldwichtel costumes, or even (God forbid) normal clothes, but they were the minority). When the parade showed up, there were more bands, and this time also fire...though noone juggling--v disappointing, though probably wise, given the croud. What there mostly was was a lot of schoolchildren, pausing in front of the many bands to chant before sprinting down the street, or caarrying huge signs on their shoulders that made fun of their teachers. Very cool, even without the giant people. Unlike yesterday's parade, it was a little hard to tell when this one ended, but it did and everyone went back to the enormous random block party that had already begun. The house next door had turned itself into a bar/headquarters for one of the many Besenwirtschäfte (societies of people who parade around with brooms), which was packed with people like us drinking wine and trying to dance to Sex Bomb. The music there and at the other place in the fifteenth-century basement across the street gave the impression that we'd been transported back to a Williams party in the 90s, but it was a great deal more civilized.
But people were still partying hard. We walked around the city, exclaiming at the pirate ship parked in the Münsterplatz and the giant devil with the disco ball just beyond; joined hordes of German teenagers dancing to techno on Stefansplatz (which I think I found a lot more fun than Grace); and listened to yet another de facto Battle of the Bands on the Obermarkt.
Yes, this event IS like a marching band convention collided with a Ren Faire and a couple of rather strange college theme parties. And possibly also an acid trip, given how bizarre some of the people and/or things look. Blätzle, for example.
Today the streets were covered with broken glass, discarded pizza plates, and confetti. No one was bothering to clean it up--possibly they too had hangovers, or possibly thhey just figured that trying to clean up before this thing ends would just be an exercise in futility. Tonight things are quieter, ironically enough, and I'm looking forward to getting a decent amount of sleep for a change. But nonetheless, Ho Narro! to all of you whose Mardi Gras is less exciting than ours.
Hm. I could use some more raisin bread...
"Ho Narro!"
"Ho Narro! Why are you still inside? You should be out partying! Are you working? Are you Swiss??"
"You're right..." "You're Swiss?" (Apparently they have a reputation for being excessively hard-working)
"No, I'm actually American. I meant..."
"Oh, you're American?" [Usual round of 'Where in America are you from?', etc., follows] "Do you live here? You should know that there's going to be a parade going down this street in two hours--you should probably close the shutters. And you should wear a sort of long white dress..."
I already did know that, actually. There's a tradition of dressing up in nightshirts on Schmötzige Donrstag (Dirty Thursday, the beginning of Carnival, for those with short memories). So I'd taken Grace's nightdress up to the Uni for their Fasnacht party earlier that afternoon, only to discover that it ended at three--greatly to the distress of Grace (wearing multiple sets of clothing and a bath brush in her guise as the "Shower witch") and her Tandem Partner, who'd arranged to meet her at...3:15. We chatted for a bit anyway with her and a Swabian Texan whose family runs a vineyard, then went back to the important task of checking email.
But I didn't know that the parade was happening at 7, specifically. So I rushed dinner onto the table, and then Grace and I got attired again, armed ourselves with chocolate, and headed out.
There were no Blätzle this time, but EVERYONE in the street seemed to be wearing nightshirts (an optical illusion--there were plenty in pirate outfits, Waldwichtel costumes, or even (God forbid) normal clothes, but they were the minority). When the parade showed up, there were more bands, and this time also fire...though noone juggling--v disappointing, though probably wise, given the croud. What there mostly was was a lot of schoolchildren, pausing in front of the many bands to chant before sprinting down the street, or caarrying huge signs on their shoulders that made fun of their teachers. Very cool, even without the giant people. Unlike yesterday's parade, it was a little hard to tell when this one ended, but it did and everyone went back to the enormous random block party that had already begun. The house next door had turned itself into a bar/headquarters for one of the many Besenwirtschäfte (societies of people who parade around with brooms), which was packed with people like us drinking wine and trying to dance to Sex Bomb. The music there and at the other place in the fifteenth-century basement across the street gave the impression that we'd been transported back to a Williams party in the 90s, but it was a great deal more civilized.
But people were still partying hard. We walked around the city, exclaiming at the pirate ship parked in the Münsterplatz and the giant devil with the disco ball just beyond; joined hordes of German teenagers dancing to techno on Stefansplatz (which I think I found a lot more fun than Grace); and listened to yet another de facto Battle of the Bands on the Obermarkt.
Yes, this event IS like a marching band convention collided with a Ren Faire and a couple of rather strange college theme parties. And possibly also an acid trip, given how bizarre some of the people and/or things look. Blätzle, for example.
Today the streets were covered with broken glass, discarded pizza plates, and confetti. No one was bothering to clean it up--possibly they too had hangovers, or possibly thhey just figured that trying to clean up before this thing ends would just be an exercise in futility. Tonight things are quieter, ironically enough, and I'm looking forward to getting a decent amount of sleep for a change. But nonetheless, Ho Narro! to all of you whose Mardi Gras is less exciting than ours.
Hm. I could use some more raisin bread...
