One of the things I love about Germany, and this applies to most of Europe, is the centuries-old traditions they have to mark the beginning of things, the end of things, the middle of things, etc.
For example, recently in Bavaria, they have just finished Fasching, their name for ‘Carnival’. The reason for Fasching was explained in our German class – in German, obviously. Hence I didn’t understand much of it. Since then I’ve picked up a bit more. Carnival is a ‘big thing’ in the north, especially Cologne, where they use huge floats to make political statements to protest about events of the previous year. (2016 must have provided them with a hell of a lot of material.) It’s less of a big thing down south, but people still dress up as police and blue-haired princesses and blast rowdy music from stages in the city centres while dancing in what appears to be auditions for Eurovision. In the Black Forest region, they wear wooden masks representing Voodoo priests and witches, and then get confetti thrown at them to ‘drive them out’: this apparently represents driving away winter, the darkness, and all the ‘bad things’ to make room for the light of spring and all things good. In Bavaria, the word ‘Fasching’ comes from the medieval word ‘vaschnc’ which in modern German means ‘Fastnacht’ or the ‘fasting night’. This fasting begins immediately after Fasching and is known to the rest of us as Lent. Shrove Tuesday is the culmination of the festivities, and at 11.11am on the 11th of the 11th month the Fasching Prince and Princess were selected to reign over the ‘crazy season’ which officially begins on 7th January. There are Fasching balls for every society or guild, such as the Washer-women’s Ball, the Carnival in Rio, and the Schabernackt, as well as endless office parties. Fasching doughnuts are sold by the dozen. During this period ‘anything goes’ and it is said that the birthrate rockets from the ‘women’s day’ which begins the festivities. Well, I wouldn’t know about that.
So I turned up in Munich with some visiting friends, having no idea about any of this, only to be faced with devils, red-uniformed soldiers, and music so loud we couldn’t actually do the free walking tour because we couldn’t hear the guide who was screaming at the top of his American voice. It was Rose Monday, and the Germans were marking this in typical fashion with non-stop drinking all day. We only just managed to find a seat to squeeze into at the Victoria Market (Viktualienmarkt) biergarten which seats about a hundred. The beer, as always, was great: Helles (‘ein kleines Helles, bitte’ often produces a shake of the head – no, the smallest is half litre) or Weiss (wheat), golden and honeyed and hoppy all at the same time. Or Dunkel (dark) which I can’t comment on because I’ve never tried it. We ate caramelised almonds and roasted chestnuts and bratwurst, and there was gluhwein and schokolade obst (kebabs of fruit covered in chocolate, which the Germans seem inordinately fond of and I always find so disappointing).
I was taken by how, despite it being a work-week Monday, there were families everywhere, and passers-by being sucked into the general merriment, dancing at the very bad music and overflowing with wellbeing towards strangers and friends alike. It felt like the beginning of summer, even though it was only 8 degrees (a big improvement on the previous day’s high of 3). Of course, at the time of writing this (Ash Wednesday), silence has fallen and a sombre, serious tone has settled over the nation.
At least until Easter, when festivities begin again.
It’s the little things you notice most, when you make the transition to living in a different culture. When you travel, you tend to notice the bigger things, like the fact that you have to look in the opposite direction when crossing a busy road to avoid becoming a pancake. But when you start living alongside the locals, taking the bus, the U-bahn, using the local supermarket every day, visiting the doctor and trying to translate the untranslatable letters that turn up in the letter box on an alarmingly regular basis, you start to notice the little things.
My latest blog is once again about curiosity. I have just finished reading Curious, by Ian Leslie, and there was so much food for thought there that I had to share it with everyone. Some of my longheld convictions were even changed by reading this book, which is something that doesn’t often happen these days…
