Decoding Carnival: A Comprehensive A to Z of Cologne’s Celebrations
Carnival, a period of exuberant revelry, is a deeply ingrained cultural phenomenon, particularly in cities like Cologne and Düsseldorf. But beneath the colorful costumes and spirited parades lies a complex tradition steeped in history, social commentary, and even a touch of anarchy. This comprehensive guide, from A to Z, unpacks the nuances of this unique celebration.
The notion of abstaining from alcohol during Carnival is, according to one observer, firmly rooted in the realm of myth. Similarly, while Kölsch, the local brew of Cologne, is a staple, it isn’t universally embraced, with Nobel laureate Heinrich Böll famously describing it as a “diuretic local brew.” Its rival, Düsseldorf’s Alt, is more bluntly characterized as “euthanasia with three letters.”
Originally, the festivities were presided over by a King Carneval, a tradition suppressed in the 19th century by Prussian authorities who recognized only one sovereign – the one residing in Berlin. Today, Cologne’s leadership structure consists of a triumvirate of prince, farmer, and maiden.
The period of sanctioned “funnyness” is surprisingly finite, lasting precisely five days. The underlying philosophy is simple: indulge today, return to order tomorrow. However, uttering the word “Fasching” in Cologne is a social faux pas of the highest order. As one individual wryly observed, repeating the term to someone who doesn’t share your affection could be a fatal mistake.
The term “Carnival” itself is frowned upon in both Cologne and Düsseldorf. In fact, the atmosphere of heightened emotion and excess is sometimes referred to as “carnival fever,” as depicted in a local crime drama.
The pursuit of camels – the candy thrown during parades – can bring out a competitive edge in attendees, with some resorting to questionable tactics, even stepping on children’s fingers to secure a chocolate bar. The musical group Höhner embodies the spirit of Cologne, their songs suggesting the city is perfect as it is, any attempt at improvement would diminish its essence – encapsulated in the phrase “Kölle du bes e Jeföhl” (Cologne you are a feeling).
The “I costume,” once a popular choice, is now largely avoided, with many opting for alternatives like a “Winnetou costume” to sidestep controversy. A “Jeck,” derived from the Dutch word “gek” meaning crazy, is the Kölsch term for a “fool” – a badge of honor during the festivities.
Karl Küpper stands as a courageous figure in Carnival history. During the Nazi era, he subtly defied the regime by raising his hand in the Hitler salute but responding with “Is et am rähne?” (Is it raining?) instead of “Heil Hitler,” resulting in a lifetime ban from performing. The tradition finds intellectual grounding in the “Praise of Folly,” a book by Erasmus of Rotterdam, which laid the theoretical foundation for ridicule and satire.
For those who cannot embrace the organized cheerfulness of Carnival, the furniture store offers a refuge, a place to “fuck off until it’s Ash Wednesday again.” Ernst Negro, a prominent figure in the Mainz Carnival, lived from 1909 to 1989, and some theorize his song “Heile heile Gänsje” offered a subconscious path to forgiveness for post-war Germans.
Medals, initially intended as parodies of military honors, have evolved into coveted objects of desire. The role of Princess Fumble, transforming from an office worker to a regal figure adorned with a plastic tiara, exemplifies the subversive power of dressing up. Throwing camels during the Rose Monday procession is so commonplace that the local district court has deemed it “socially common, generally recognized and permitted,” absolving participants of liability for accidental injuries.
Franz Raveaux challenged the status quo during the Biedermeier era by organizing a counter-carnival in 1845, resulting in two competing parades. His rebellious spirit ultimately led to a death sentence and exile. A true meeting fetishist considers a hat an essential component of Carnival, its absence signifying anarchy. The timing of laughter is expertly controlled by the Tusch, signaling to Carnival-goers when to join in the merriment.
Those seeking truly innovative punchlines are encouraged to infiltrate Carnival clubs and improve the humor from within. However, “wild peeers” – individuals relieving themselves in public – pose a threat to the structural integrity of Cologne Cathedral. The Höhner’s hit song “Viva Colonia” has transcended regional boundaries, becoming a singalong anthem even in Bavaria and at the Ballermann.
The corrosive effects of “wild pee” are not merely metaphorical; some claim it actively decomposes the centuries-old rock of Cologne Cathedral. Carnival, at its core, is a cyclical event – a repetition of the same traditions, a return of the “swaying undead.” Historically, Carnival has been a male-dominated space, with female performers often facing limited opportunities, as illustrated by Carolin Kebekus’s experiences early in her career.
Finally, the “corrosive and hateful satires” inherent in Carnival once alarmed the first Federal Chancellor Konrad Adenauer, who considered legal action. However, the Federal Ministry of Justice advised against it, recognizing the potential bias of Cologne judges, who are likely enthusiasts of the festivities themselves.
