Over the last four-plus weeks, nearly every corner of Maastricht, the Netherlands, has been draped in red, yellow and green flags. Costume shops have enjoyed surges in business to supplement their Halloween sales, and town has been abuzz with talk of Carnival weekend.
Carnival is in many ways a European cousin of the American celebration of Mardi Gras. It’s difficult for me to compare Dutch — more specifically, Rhenish — Carnival, which took place this past weekend, to the Mardi Gras festivities in New Orleans. The days-long event was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.
Over the weekend and through the start of Carnival week, businesses close for the holidays. Maastricht University even gives its students the entire week off.
Many contend that Carnival’s early roots stem from ancient pagan celebrations, but the modern incarnation is at its heart a Roman Catholic celebration in preparation of Ash Wednesday and the Lenten season. The word ‘carnival’ comes from the Latin phrase ‘carnem levare,’ meaning to remove meat.
Between Friday afternoon and Monday, streets are filled with small children and older people alike, all decked out in elaborate costumes. I learned this weekend that the more outrageous and strange the costume, the better.
My first taste of the festivities came in Roermond, a small Dutch town about 50 kilometers, or a little more than 30 miles, from Maastricht. I expected Roermond’s celebration Friday to be a warm-up for the weekend in Maastricht, but 14 hours of partying later, I realized I was only being foolish.
I regret not being able to fully participate in the singing of traditional Dutch carnival songs, but dancing proved to be the universal language.
One thing about Carnival that I found to be particularly interesting was the dynamic between age groups. You might see a grown man in a dinosaur onesie vomiting in the street 10 feet away from a group of six-year-olds or a man in a nurse outfit pushing a sex doll in a wheelchair as wide-eyed adolescents gaze on. Yet to locals, Carnival is a family event.
My first Carnival was a thrilling experience, but it wasn’t all a blast.
On Sunday night, I suspect my wallet was pickpocketed, which threw a wrench into my travel plans for my week off class.
The scene in the streets Monday morning made Sundays in the IU tailgate fields look like a nature preserve. In the Vrijthof, the epicenter of the celebration, the roads were ankle-deep in plastic cups, broken glass and remnants of costumes.
Once I’m able to regain access to my bank account, I’ll travel to Paris and Barcelona for my week off. I could’ve gone without this little hiccup, but at least I have some incredible experiences to make up for it.
