. . .
And Jesus Harold Christ Almighty did it rain. Buckets and buckets of it. Like a big, cold, early morning Swiss freezing-rain shower.
You can’t see it, ‘cause rain is clear. Nonetheless, my hat, mittens and my cashmere and wool jacket kept my spirits dry. How they can make such a sexy combination of materials keep one dry and warm, you and I will never know. Also, Lebanese women are hott.
But the festivities were drawing near. So we make our way back into city centre with the rest of the 180,000 inhabitants of Basel, with low expectations for finding a perch on which to watch the activities. Sliding into, out of and between hundreds of random, curiously dressed locals, we make our way back to the main square, seeking what little shelter we can from the weather.
Children dressed as cows and other rare European farm animals; adults dressed in completely random costumes, covering the spectrum from Circus Jokers to obscure concepts even I couldn’t come up with, lest the help of the most ‘exotic’ of dessert menus. All wearing lanterns on their heads. Precious.
In what seemed to be less than organized chaos, our block, along with every other block within our eyesight, was quickly filling up with costumes, floats and snare drums. It was like a half-time rehearsal with the 9,000 member Ronald McDonald House Flute and Snare-drum Marching Band. That’s a real band. Look it up.
And then as if on cue, the rain stopped. The church bells rang in 4 am. And every last light in the city went dead.
Fasnacht 2007 was underway. The annual Swiss Carnival that not so inappropriately begins after Ash Wednesday. Essentially 72 hours of non-stop Jokers like these:
by the thousands, parading through the streets of Basel like Lemmings, carrying obscure and often disturbing lighted floats, belting out short, high-pitched flute notes in unison with short, well timed drum rolls. Think high-school marching band under the influence.
Disturbing floats like this:
The back of which portrayed a beautifully painted depiction of a circus character trying to climb up and into the anus of this Rat-Walrus-Cat-like thing. While not completely unfathomable, it seemed a bit too early in the morning to ask such questions as, “What the?” and “Is that even possible?” Or the ever popular, “I wonder what it'd feel like with a dick in it?”
Germany
. . .
And Jesus Harold Christ Almighty did it rain. Buckets and buckets of it. Like a big, cold, early morning Swiss freezing-rain shower.
You can’t see it, ‘cause rain is clear. Nonetheless, my hat, mittens and my cashmere and wool jacket kept my spirits dry. How they can make such a sexy combination of materials keep one dry and warm, you and I will never know. Also, Lebanese women are hott.
But the festivities were drawing near. So we make our way back into city centre with the rest of the 180,000 inhabitants of Basel, with low expectations for finding a perch on which to watch the activities. Sliding into, out of and between hundreds of random, curiously dressed locals, we make our way back to the main square, seeking what little shelter we can from the weather.
Children dressed as cows and other rare European farm animals; adults dressed in completely random costumes, covering the spectrum from Circus Jokers to obscure concepts even I couldn’t come up with, lest the help of the most ‘exotic’ of dessert menus. All wearing lanterns on their heads. Precious.
In what seemed to be less than organized chaos, our block, along with every other block within our eyesight, was quickly filling up with costumes, floats and snare drums. It was like a half-time rehearsal with the 9,000 member Ronald McDonald House Flute and Snare-drum Marching Band. That’s a real band. Look it up.
And then as if on cue, the rain stopped. The church bells rang in 4 am. And every last light in the city went dead.
Fasnacht 2007 was underway. The annual Swiss Carnival that not so inappropriately begins after Ash Wednesday. Essentially 72 hours of non-stop Jokers like these:
by the thousands, parading through the streets of Basel like Lemmings, carrying obscure and often disturbing lighted floats, belting out short, high-pitched flute notes in unison with short, well timed drum rolls. Think high-school marching band under the influence.
Disturbing floats like this:
The back of which portrayed a beautifully painted depiction of a circus character trying to climb up and into the anus of this Rat-Walrus-Cat-like thing. While not completely unfathomable, it seemed a bit too early in the morning to ask such questions as, “What the?” and “Is that even possible?” Or the ever popular, “I wonder what it'd feel like with a dick in it?”
Germany
. . .
