So I have something to talk about anyway. Isn't that awesome? OK, easy there, guys. Right, OK. Yeah, put the chair down. Really, there's no need for....This story really isn't that interesting. Just give me five....Thank you. Anyway.
So after getting out of school today, I went to get my hair cut (oooh, ahhhh), then ran over to school to see the Faschingsfest. Don't ask me to translate "Fasching," because I don't know. But I do know it is part of the Karneval season, or the "Fünfte Jahreszeit (Fifth Season)," as they call it around here. It comes after Rosenmontag (Rose Monday) and before Aschenmittwoch (Ash Wednesday). Other than that, I'm clueless.
Now generally speaking, northern Germans aren't that big on the whole Karneval thing; it's one of those Catholic, and therefore southern, traditions people around here seem to tolerate but not really enjoy. They kind of groan and smile while telling you that Karneval really "ist nicht für mich," or "Karneval ist nicht mein Bier (Karneval isn't my beer)." Participation is generally reserved for times when there's nothing else to do, or when you just happen to turn on the television and see pictures from Cologne. Other than that, Karneval is greeted with the same enthusiasm as a New Year Resolution; it happens every year, but nobody really gives a damn or really notices when it's gone.
Anyway, as far as I can tell, Karneval is one of those publically sanctioned "Get Drunk in the Street" times, and every German from Cologne south seems to take full advantage of it. With its traditional and brightly colored lack of inhabitions, Karneval and a good Faschingsfest is just made for kids to go nuts. Hence today. And being Karneval, all the kids came "verkleidet" as just about anything, Hippies, Cowboys/girls being the most popular. I'll save the German fascination with the Wild West for another post. That's a big one. OK, back on track, back on track.
Most of the other costums were pretty typical (a Space Man, Vampires, Indians), but there were two that really got me. Seriously. I noticed the first one as soon as I sat down. He was dressed in a loose black robe, a large skull cap, and one of those sets of plastic glasses with a mustache and plastic nose. But this nose was huge. It was obscence. That spelled bad news in my book. I couldn't quite figure out what it was supposed to be exactly, but I had one of those uneasy moments of certain knowledge: some ethnic stereotype was coming my way. He really looked like a walking Jewish cartoon from some fascist newspapers from the thirties, but I remembered that that stuff doesn't fly here so well, at least not after 1945. OK, good. Close call. Maybe I was wrong. Nope.
All the kids stood up to introduce their costums. I waited with hope. I waited with confidence. I waited in vain. He was the Prophet Muhammed. WHAT! Christ, kid! Ahhhh! No! If you're having trouble picturing what he looked like, just get one of those spectacularly unclever Danish cartoons, make it ten years old, 80 pounds, and BLISSFULLY CLUELESS! Ahhhh! I cannot stress that enough: Ahhhh! Now, I know there aren't that many Muslims on the island in the winter, but still. You would THINK that after dozens of people had been killed in riots and threatened with decapitation you could find some other costum to wear besides one that looks like the distillation of every racist cartoon about the Middle East for the last hundred years. Or not. I forgot: people aren't racist here. Oh wait, yes they are.
The other one that blew me away was this pretty little girl in this incredible red dress and hat....OK, I know how creepy that sounds, but just give me a second. She was dressed as a "Rococo Woman." She said "eine alte rococo Dame," which sounds better, but you get the point. Rococo woman? Huh? When I was ten I was happy to pull off a faithful Ghost Busters or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles impression, but I guess incapsilating an 18th century French art style is the same thing. I mean, she did I good job; it looked like someone plucked her straight out of a painting for the afternoon for a walk in the park. I have to give her credit. And that dress was nuts.
Once again, kids have given so much to this blog. God bless you, munchkins everywhere.
So after getting out of school today, I went to get my hair cut (oooh, ahhhh), then ran over to school to see the Faschingsfest. Don't ask me to translate "Fasching," because I don't know. But I do know it is part of the Karneval season, or the "Fünfte Jahreszeit (Fifth Season)," as they call it around here. It comes after Rosenmontag (Rose Monday) and before Aschenmittwoch (Ash Wednesday). Other than that, I'm clueless.
Now generally speaking, northern Germans aren't that big on the whole Karneval thing; it's one of those Catholic, and therefore southern, traditions people around here seem to tolerate but not really enjoy. They kind of groan and smile while telling you that Karneval really "ist nicht für mich," or "Karneval ist nicht mein Bier (Karneval isn't my beer)." Participation is generally reserved for times when there's nothing else to do, or when you just happen to turn on the television and see pictures from Cologne. Other than that, Karneval is greeted with the same enthusiasm as a New Year Resolution; it happens every year, but nobody really gives a damn or really notices when it's gone.
Anyway, as far as I can tell, Karneval is one of those publically sanctioned "Get Drunk in the Street" times, and every German from Cologne south seems to take full advantage of it. With its traditional and brightly colored lack of inhabitions, Karneval and a good Faschingsfest is just made for kids to go nuts. Hence today. And being Karneval, all the kids came "verkleidet" as just about anything, Hippies, Cowboys/girls being the most popular. I'll save the German fascination with the Wild West for another post. That's a big one. OK, back on track, back on track.
Most of the other costums were pretty typical (a Space Man, Vampires, Indians), but there were two that really got me. Seriously. I noticed the first one as soon as I sat down. He was dressed in a loose black robe, a large skull cap, and one of those sets of plastic glasses with a mustache and plastic nose. But this nose was huge. It was obscence. That spelled bad news in my book. I couldn't quite figure out what it was supposed to be exactly, but I had one of those uneasy moments of certain knowledge: some ethnic stereotype was coming my way. He really looked like a walking Jewish cartoon from some fascist newspapers from the thirties, but I remembered that that stuff doesn't fly here so well, at least not after 1945. OK, good. Close call. Maybe I was wrong. Nope.
All the kids stood up to introduce their costums. I waited with hope. I waited with confidence. I waited in vain. He was the Prophet Muhammed. WHAT! Christ, kid! Ahhhh! No! If you're having trouble picturing what he looked like, just get one of those spectacularly unclever Danish cartoons, make it ten years old, 80 pounds, and BLISSFULLY CLUELESS! Ahhhh! I cannot stress that enough: Ahhhh! Now, I know there aren't that many Muslims on the island in the winter, but still. You would THINK that after dozens of people had been killed in riots and threatened with decapitation you could find some other costum to wear besides one that looks like the distillation of every racist cartoon about the Middle East for the last hundred years. Or not. I forgot: people aren't racist here. Oh wait, yes they are.
The other one that blew me away was this pretty little girl in this incredible red dress and hat....OK, I know how creepy that sounds, but just give me a second. She was dressed as a "Rococo Woman." She said "eine alte rococo Dame," which sounds better, but you get the point. Rococo woman? Huh? When I was ten I was happy to pull off a faithful Ghost Busters or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles impression, but I guess incapsilating an 18th century French art style is the same thing. I mean, she did I good job; it looked like someone plucked her straight out of a painting for the afternoon for a walk in the park. I have to give her credit. And that dress was nuts.
Once again, kids have given so much to this blog. God bless you, munchkins everywhere.
posted by Der verwirrte Ausländer at 11:58 AM
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