Ich bin kein jelly donut.

I always liked the theory that Fasching (in Germany, although within Germany there are many other variations on the name), Carneval (more generally known internationally) and Mardi Gras (what we Americans know of the holiday from the celebration in New Orleans) was a pagan tradition carried over into Christianity. It does look like it could be, with all the animal, devil and witch masks we see in the parades. And as it (or rather, the high point and grand finale) takes place sometime in February - actually the week before Lent, so roughly 40 days before Easter - it could logically be a time when ancient people donned masks and lit fires to chase away the winter. Like Halloween, where people dressed as ghosts and monsters so that they wouldn't be recognized as one of the living by the evil spirits roaming the world on the night before All Hallows' Day.

But apparently this theory is no longer the standard. It's really just a Catholic tradition of celebrating before the long 40 days of fasting. There are loads of fascinating aspects of this holiday - particularly the etymology is fantastic, although probably only to a linguist, so I'll spare you that - but this blog post is not a history lesson. I wanted to tell you about enjoying the holiday as a foreigner.

Last Sunday we went to the parade here in Kornwestheim. Now, Kornwestheim is no Dusseldorf or Cologne; really it's a small town. Yet there were more than 40 clubs, bands or other performers involved. It was quite a show. Chloé loved it (except when there was suddenly a giant animal mask in front of her face - then she seemed to be unsure whether to smile or scream) and we got loads of candy (for her, of course!). Gaetan got some red and black ink smudged on his face by a couple of cheeky witches. Just like the rest of the [German] inhabitants of Kornwestheim, we called "Narro!" after their "Narri!" They threw candy at us. They admired our beautiful little girl. We sat back and enjoyed being a part of the German culture.

Another fun event in Stuttgart is the Cannstatter Wasen or Frühlingsfest (basically the same event in the fall or in the spring [Frühling = spring]). This is a giant carnival - with beer tents. The carnival part is pretty straightforward and you can easily imagine the rides that spin and spin and spin, the throw-a-ball-win-a-stuffed-animal stands and German versions of various fast food - sausages and more sausages and heavy noodles with sauerkraut). The beer tents, though, are a world unto themselves. Almost the only thing to drink is the Maß (1 liter of beer in a very sturdy, thick glass), brought to your table in the hands of strong men and women. Just getting the glass to your mouth is exercise for your biceps. After several sets of this bicep training, you're ready to take the next step: onto the bench. There you sway back and forth, arm in arm with your neighbor (whether you know him or not), to semi-folk/rock remix music - often live. Now I realize that my students while I was teaching English claimed that they NEVER did this, but I'm not afraid to admit that I had a great time! Okay, it's probably not too funny without the beer, and getting drunk and dancing on tables isn't something you do for a huge part of your life, but again, it's a social thing. It brings people together.

I guess that's my point. Get people together. Happy. Sad. Celebrating. Helping. I seem to be the quintessential American; I never joined groups, I never asked for help, I come from a small family with almost no contact to its extended part. I've never been a part of things, and I always assumed this was American, although of course not all Americans are like this. Still, in another context, when you ask an American about, for example, "socialism" they become hostile and claim that government control is BAD but I think really they don't want to help others - and for the most part, don't expect to be helped. Maybe the geographic isolation of America has rubbed off on the individuals who inhabit it and they've become human islands without a boat to take them across to the other shore. Finally, this "American culture" is spreading throughout the world, and I don't know if I can say this will be a positive development.

In the end I'm saying that a huge benefit of being an expatriate is not only to see and learn how other people live - but to live with them! It's not automatic, though; you have to open yourself up to the differences and join the parades and sing the songs and drink the beer. When in Berlin, do as the Berliners do. I'm no Berliner, but I'm not just an American anymore, either. And I like it that way.