CARNAVAL

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Wow. Dutch people are wild. This weekend I had been invited to go to Switzerland to ski with a group of people, something I really wanted to do. For a few days I was locked in to go, but as always, I made the last minute decision not to go, a decision that was aided by the fact that I had booked my hostel for the wrong weekend. Carnaval, we had been told, was something worth sticking around for.

Ben had read that Thursday night of Carnaval in Cologne, Germany was one of the craziest parties in Europe, so I tagged along for the start, which would be at 11:11. We rode the same train to Cologne as the group going to Switzerland, which was fun and gave us a good final goodbye. When the train reached Cologne, we got off and entered a sea of people in outfits that ranged from a collection of bizarre accessories to full blown police and military uniforms. At one point we came across about fifteen people all in matching LAPD SWAT uniforms which were so well made it took the fact that they were drinking and laughing to convince us they weren't cops. But then again, they could have been; it's Carnaval.

Another thing we noticed is that everyone seemed to be going in the opposite direction as us, towards the train station. We had met a twenty-something guy on the train who was on his way home and convinced him to party with us. He explained that the party had actually started at 11:11AM, not PM, and twelve hours later, even some of the more seasoned revelers were stumbling home to sleep. In spite of this, our tired but enthusiastic guide (whose name I never learned) was intent on showing us a good time. We took a packed tram to another part of town where he led us to a bar that was by no means traditional German (called Sausalito's), but was still serving beer and was nonetheless full of costumed people looking to continue their Carnaval experience. At some point a group of about twenty people with drums gathered outside and started to play a loud and fast beat. A man in the middle gesticulated wildly to conduct the group, silencing certain drums and bringing in others on command to vary the beat. Eventually they moved inside, and the bar turned off the music to allow them to play. We stayed at Sausalito's for the remainder of the night, leaving in time to wander around a bit, grab some food, and catch a late train.

I slept for most of the train ride, waking up only to transfer a couple times. We arrived in Venlo to get the 6am bus to Well, but we all slept through our stop, got dropped off in the middle of nowhere and had to walk another hour through the foggy Dutch farmland back to the castle. Then we took naps.

It was Friday, and Ben, like many others, planned to spend the night in Maastricht, The Netherlands' southernmost city, known for its Carnaval celebration. He got up to leave with others around noon, but after the night in Cologne, I needed some sleep. I felt bad skipping what was sure to be a good time to sit around at the castle, but I got some much needed rest, saved some money, and got to hang out with a lot of people who were doing the same thing.

Saturday I had planned to go to Venlo, the closest city with a reputation for good Carnaval celebrations. I woke up late, and left with Andrew Vella around 2pm. We didn't have much in the way of costumes, and it was still early enough in the day for us to stand out. We quickly put on what little I had brought, red hairspray, a Dutch flag cape, and an American flag bowtie: just enough to not look like total tourists. Armed with these bits of color, we penetrated the thick crowd and started to slowly wade towards beer. Every block or so there was a table serving local beer from a tap for about 1.80Eu, but even that was barely enough to meet the constant demand of the massive crowd, and often it took so long to walk a block that by the time you reached the next stand your first beer was long gone. We ducked into an Irish pub for a Guinness or two (I had not had the honor of traveling with Vella to Ireland, so we had some catching up to do). The pub was broadcasting a live feed of one of the several stages with live music throughout the city center, so we watched for a bit, then dove back into the crowd to see what we could see. We found live music, both marching bands and stages, some crazy outfits, some good food, and as it got dark we got on the bus to Well, where we made some friends (something that's not hard to do during Carnaval).

Back in Well, a party was starting in the back room of Onder de Linden. All the Emerson students who were in town made their way over there eventually, and after some official Carnaval business we partied the night away with the locals. Dance of choice: the conga line. Seriously, these people love conga lines.

Sunday was the big parade. Most kids had come back in time to see this main event in Well. We had been given a spot in the parade, so we spent the morning putting on ridiculous clothes, some of which were on loan from the castle. After a couple hours of prep in the Sophie's lounge, the castle lounge, we walked in a big group to our place in the parade. We were near the front, so it wouldn't be until later that I would truly appreciate how big of an even this was, but later as I ran out of dance moves and got bored of the agonizingly slow parade, I decided to go with Vella again to see some more of the floats. These people do not mess around. This may be a small farming town of relatively modest means, but they go all out for Carnaval. Some of the most amazing floats I have ever seen went by, dwarfing the houses in the town and complete with mechanized moving parts and other effects. Even more amazing was the sheer number of these floats. This was not a town that pooled their resources to make a kick-ass float, this was a town of people who had gotten together in groups of friends and family to make A LOT of kick-ass floats, and this was happening all over the province of Limburg. Truly an amazing accomplishment that they rightfully take a great deal of pride in.

After the parade we went to Cafe Vink, another local bar, for the post-game celebration with the locals. I had read in the Netherlands Do's and Don'ts that you should bring children to pubs, and this was the first time I saw it in practice. The bar had a fun family feel, almost like it was a family party at someone's house. Being outsiders to this celebration, however, we mostly kept to ourselves. That night, a group of us went to Venray, a small city about 10 min away. We were supposed to meet a member of the castle staff who lives there, but he never showed up, so we hung out in a tent for a little bit and eventually headed back.

As amazing as the parade was, it only got better. Monday night was Well's famous light show, a tradition started a few years ago where the town turns off its lights and the best floats from the area parade once again, this time decked out with lights. It started with fireworks, a great display made even more thrilling by the fact that you could clearly see the two guys walking around lighting them off about a hundred feet away. It felt so unprofessional, and that only made the professional-level fireworks more spectacular. During the parade, we saw some familiar floats, but also some from other towns, who had stolen the signs with their town names and put them on the float. Defiance of government is a huge theme of Carnaval. The king is given the key to the city and is said to govern for the duration of the celebrations. Often if a smaller town is near a larger town, the sign for that town will say "gem. (name of the large town)" for example "Well gem. Bergen." I noticed that a few times the name of the larger town had been crossed out, which I assume is another act of defiance.

Tuesday night was the last night of Carnaval. Many castle students either didn't know this or were too burnt out to go on, but a few of us headed to the Linden for a final goodbye. Once again, it was a locals affair. Tables had been set up in the front room, and about twenty Dutch people were sitting and talking after what seemed to have been a final meal. Traditional end-of-Carnaval foods were still sitting on a nearby table, and Jack the owner gave us some of the leftovers which appeared to be some sort of fish paste and bread.

So in short, I'm glad I stayed. Lot's of the professors I talked to said they didn't like Carnaval, that the drinking and debauchery was too much. One said he had even grown up with the tradition, but abandoned it when he was around 18 because it became too much about drinking and not enough about the tradition. Even Johnny, the guy we tried to meet in Venray who is definitely not turned off by the drinking, told me I should go skiing when I asked his advice. I realized they're just too used to it. They know what's going on, they know all the goofy oompah Carnaval songs, it's not foreign to them and so it's not as interesting. But what I loved about Carnaval, and what they may not necessarily notice as non-travelers, is how friendly everyone is. There's a feeling that lasted for the whole week of that unique freedom that comes from casting off the norm, like when you went to school in costume for Halloween; your whole day is different. Different parties come one after another, so you can enjoy one, and as soon as you're done, there's another one always waiting for you. I really can't describe it any better than "free," which is the point of the whole thing anyway, to be free before Lent. And it's a good thing Lent follows it, because come Ash Wednesday, I think most people had plenty to repent for.

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