The Party Pooper

I tried. For five years. But I just can’t like Fasnacht (the Swiss version of carnival).

There are things about it that I love. I love seeing Swiss people smiling in the streets. I love the costumes. And I love watching everyone let down their guard and throw confetti with abandon. But I do not love that the very people that criticize me for recycling a glass bottle on a Sunday or eating popcorn during a movie think it’s just fine to beat drums and blast horns until 6 a.m. for three consecutive nights outside my apartment.

Every country has hypocrisy. Fasnacht is Switzerland’s.

I would probably love Fasnacht if it were more Swiss. Like if they stopped banging the drums at 10 p.m. on a weeknight. (I’d even put up with midnight.) That seems reasonable, doesn’t it? Especially since I’m not supposed to flush my toilet after that.

But when it’s 10 p.m. and you’re tired, and you know that despite the blasting fan, the earplugs, and the pillow over your head, that you’ll still be hearing the banging until 6 a.m., it doesn’t exactly make you love the holiday. Parties are fun. Except for the ones you can't leave.

Not to mention, the moment I emerge from my apartment, bleary eyed and exhausted, some Fasnacht clown will want me to pay for the privilege of listening to their music by buying a placket. Sorry. The thing I will pay for? A ticket out of town.

Carnival in Basel

I have never been a big fan of Baden’s carnival, probably since I live in its center and can’t escape it, but I really enjoyed Fasnacht in Basel.

For one thing, it had more creative costumes and masks. For another, it actually seemed like the “musicians” rehearsed ahead of time. A Basel local confirmed this. The bands are allowed to practice up to three weeks beforehand in designated areas of the city.

There are two kinds of music at Fasnacht in Basel: traditional and Guggen. I preferred the traditional music myself, which consisted of fife and drum bands in groups from 2-25 who wandered the streets with no shame in running you over should you somehow fail to see or hear them coming.

Guggenmusik is normally too loud and obnoxious for my tastes, as it consists of mainly brass instruments played by large bands from a stage, which during Carnival in Baden, is typically right below my window.

The other thing I loved, besides the lantern display in front of the cathedral that was one part art show-one part political statement, was that the entire city of Basel was carpeted in confetti. I got doused with my own good dose, as it is tradition that unless you buy a Basel Fasnacht pin and display it proudly (the Swiss love festival pins—don’t get me started on them), you are fare game to get covered in confetti.



But the real novelty of the confetti carpet is that it’s so un-Swiss. Normally, even stray leaves are swept up the moment they dare decide to cross with a sidewalk, so the fact that so much colorful confetti was allowed to be thrown about the city not to mention allowed to stay around for more than five minutes before a street sweeper appeared was really something else. I loved it and took many photos of my feet, amazed that they could be standing among such creative clutter and still be in Switzerland.



Sadly, I’m sure by today there’s not a trace of confetti to be found. I’m sure that the street sweepers have done their religious duty. And I’m sure that overnight, Basel has become yet again a city of serious people wearing black coats and walking on perfectly clean sidewalks under a coordinating grey sky.

But at least now I know where to go once a year in Switzerland to find its real spirit—even if the people have to put on masks to be brave enough to reveal it.