Fasching, you might ask? Okay, I admit I had never heard of it until I moved to Germany, but it is a period marked with great joy and occasion, in Catholic Bavaria and Austria. Fasching as a term is derived from the word Fastnacht, meaning "eve of the beginning of the fast." Linguists speculate that "Fasching" also developed out of the Middle High German "vaschanc" or "vastschang" (Fastschank), which means the last drink served before the Lenten fast.
Like many holidays, Fasching began as a blend of pagan traditions with new Christian customs. Dressing-up as fools, clowns, or harlequins is a common characteristic that stretches across cultural and political borders. Long ago, the lower classes used Fasching festivities to wear masks and costumes that mocked the clergy and aristocracy, using the celebrations to avoid punishment. Today, the costumes range from the traditional masks and fools, to contemporary pop culture references. Were you to walk into most shops during January and February, you might think that Germany celebrates Halloween eight months early. The costumes range from the smallest infant size, to adults, with all of the accessories, make-up, and wigs to match. A particular favorite for young girls is Pippi Longstocking, or as she's known in Germay, Pippi Langstrumpf. Driving through my village, I saw three little girls with the telltale red braids sticking straight out.
Speaking of driving, here is a little tip for me to you. Should you be driving around on the night before Ash Wednesday, you might find your roadway blocked by an eager and intrepid group of youngsters demanding toll for passage. Typically, they hold a string or rope across the road, often with a little paper sign affixed to it. One of the children will come to the window, and make the toll request, usually just an odd amount of change. In my experience when it comes to finding change, you either have an overabundance, or none at all. This year, I fell into the latter category. I had just returned from Ireland, and had somehow managed to spend all of the change in my wallet. So this Tuesday, I desperately rummaged through my deep backpack purse in search of loose change, only to discover that I had spilled an entire bottle of Motrin inside of it. Not wanting to traumatize the young kids by handing them a handful of change and pain relievers, I had to sieve the medicine to get to the change. The kids found it endlessly funny. I persevered, paid my toll, and made my way home.
Go To Page: 1 2
| Here's the follow-up discussion on this article: | View all related messages |
For a complete listing of article comments, questions, and other discussions related to 's Bavaria topic, please visit the Discussions page.