While stationed in Germany in the 1980s, Cathy and I went to many Fasching* parties and parades. Here in the States, we call it Mardi Gras; but there, it’s known as Fasching. New Orleans has nothing on Germany when it comes to partying, and I can safely say I’ve had more than one hangover after a Fasching party. Of all of the parties and parades we attended, two particularly stand out in my memory, and both occurred in Rheindurkheim, a town we lived in from ‘85-‘89.

It was our second tour and we were stationed in Worms, the city of Martin Luther fame in the year 1521 (“Here I stand, I can do no other…God help me...”) We arrived a few years later than Martin Luther. It was 1985, and we ended up living in the small town of Rheindurkheim, about 10 kilometers outside of Worms. The town had a population of about 1,000 people. There were four Gasthaus’s (restaurants), a few small stores, a couple of butcher shops and three bakeries. As time passed, we were regulars at a couple of the Gasthaus’s, but particularly Wolfgang and Vroni’s place, Sportheim. We bought our bread and baked goods from Frau Kneckt’s Bakerei, and our sausage and meat from Adolf’s Metzgerei (butcher shop). We became regulars around town and were known as much for our black and white dog, Top, as for ourselves. After some time passed, I was asked to join the local over-30 soccer team and we were even more imbedded in the community.

In January of ‘88, Wolfgang and Adolf approached me one evening at Sportheim. They had an idea for the town’s Fasching parade that year, and wanted to see if I could help. They planned to enter a joint float in the parade, with Wolfgang and Vroni handing out beers, while Adolf would hand out small wursts (sausages). I thought they were going to ask me to help hand out beers, but they had something else in mind – would I drive my Ford F-150 Pickup in the parade, while they handed out the goodies from the back of the truck? Are you kidding!?!?? This was a no-brainer, and I immediately said yes.

Plans were made, and the big day finally arrived. We “decorated” the truck during the morning and the parade started in the afternoon. Wolfgang handed me a beer through the window, and we were off.

We were an immediate hit. People were clamoring for both the beers and the sausages. The pace was slow and people could walk up to the truck to get one of each. Now, as the driver of the truck, there was also a side benefit. My window was about the same height as the first-floor windows of the houses along the side of the narrow streets we were driving through. Periodically, some one would hand a shot of German Schnapps to me through their window, we’d toast, and shoot the shots. Thank heavens the parade route was only a few blocks long, and I survived reasonably intact. We eventually made it back to Sportheim, celebrated the successful parade run, and had a last beer….That evening, we went to the local event hall (The Turnhalle) for that year’s Fasching Party. Several folk approached me and we had good laughs over the truck and the parade (German’s at that time, did not have the equivalent of a full size pickup). Cath and I eventually made it home to a good night’s slumber.

A year later, Wolfgang and Adolf rented a mobile “Gasthaus” for the parade, so they didn’t need our truck. Cathy and I were both asked to work on the Gasthaus float and hand out beers. Along the parade route, we knew many in the crowd that we were serving. We’d become a part of the community, something that became particularly evident in the evening.

That night, we walked through town to the Turnhalle. We paid our entrance fee and went inside. It was crowded already, and after getting our beer, we located some of our neighbors and joined them.

Fasching parties are interesting, and they ALL follow a similar format. The party is always on Rosenmontag (the Monday before Ash Wednesday). The party always starts at 8:11 PM. And for the first couple of hours, there are a couple of local “celebrities” (think mayor, fire chief, business owner, etc) who tell jokes, introduce speakers, tell bawdy stories about local town’s people, conduct roasts, and then finally, introduce the band, which starts playing around 10:00PM or so. The music and dancing continue into the wee hours of the morning, and finally, everyone staggers home.

On this particular evening, we were listening to the monologues, jokes and stories, when we suddenly felt several hundred pairs of eyes fixed on us. The speaker was telling a joke/story about me, and our landlord, Herman. The story involved Herman and I arguing about gummis (rubbers). In Germany, the slang for condoms is the same as in America, and gummis can mean rubber, erasers, or condoms. In the story, we were arguing about who had the bigger and better gummis – Germany, or America. The story went on for a couple of minutes, with double entendres throughout. Finally, the speaker got to the punchline and Cathy and I burst out laughing, as did Herman, and then the entire crowd. I think they were waiting to see if we understood the joke, and to see if we were offended. Several people got up from nearby tables, came over and slapped us on the back, or shook our hands. The laughter continued for a while longer, before subsiding. The speaker finally went on to poke fun at the next victim. For me, I’d never felt so much a part of a community.

Eventually the jokes and stories ended and the music started. Cath and I danced with each other, danced with neighbors, or slid off to the bar for a drink with someone. People continued to greet us, and ask me whether I preferred Ami or Deutche gummis (American or German rubbers). Finally, the music ended and it was time to go home.

Four months later, we rotated back to the States and said our tearful goodbyes to our friends and neighbors. We made it back to Rheindurkheim for a visit a time or two, but of course, it’s never quite the same. I’ve thought about those two Fasching parties over the years and what a wonderful time we had in Rheindurkheim. The friendships, the community, the sense of belonging….we are all lucky when it happens, and we should always remember and treasure it.

******

Addendum:

*What is Fasching? The following is from: http://www.deutscheshaus.cc/html/newsletters/fasching_germany.html

Fasching is Germany’s carnival or Mardi Gras season. It starts on the 11th day of November at exactly 11 minutes after 11am and ends at the stroke of midnight on Shroud Tuesday – often referred to as Fat Tuesday (the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday).

Fasching (also known as Karneval) is a time of festivity and merry making – a time to break the rules, poke fun at those who make them and then to make your own new rules. In Germany, particularly in the Rhineland area, the tradition can be traced to medieval times where many countries existed under harsh rules.

During Karneval time, the common people took a chance at ‘living it up” and “talking back to their rulers”. They would make a mock government of eleven people, as well as other officials. Political authorities, high placed persons and sovereigns were the target of ridicule, and featured in humorous and satirical speeches. To avoid persecution and punishment, these antics were played out from behind masks and costumes. Parades, dancing in the streets, masquerade balls and comical skits filled the days and nights.

Although the festivities and parties start as early as the beginning of January, the actual carnival week starts on the Fat Thursday (Weiberfastnacht) before Ash Wednesday. The big German carnival parades and parties are held on the weekend before and especially on Rosenmontag, the day before Shrove Tuesday….