Baslers call their Fasnacht a lady, Frau Fasnacht.
After experiencing the “Three Most Beautiful Days” again, I’m more open to embracing Fasnacht as a lady who brings you a three-day party and disappears until the following year. I’m still not sold on these being the most beautiful days, despite temperatures in the 50s and the rain holding off until Thursday.
People talk about having Fasnacht fever and being aagfrässe, wild about or hooked on Fasnacht. I think I understand it. I took Monday off so I could go to Morgestraich, the 4 a.m. start, when the city lights go out and all the Fasnacht clubs start drumming and playing piccolo at once, marching through the streets and alleys in masks and costumes. They wear small, painted lanterns on their heads and many follow large lanterns pulled on wagons. In the afternoon, we went back to the city to watch the first parade. We left with 30 oranges, two Capri Suns, two carrots, and more candy and flowers. By the end of the day, waking up at 2:45 to get downtown, walking around and watching Morgestraich felt like a dream. I was exhausted and felt like maybe I had overhyped Fasnacht to myself. But then I kept going back into the city in the evening after work for more.
On Tuesday, the clubs line up their lanterns in the plaza in front of the Basel Münster. There are brass band concerts on three stages throughout the city, but you can stand on any street and a band or group of drummers and piccolo players will march by. On Wednesday afternoon, the parade repeats. And then, again, it’s marching and music with the added chaos of floats parked along the streets or slowly making their way out of the city while offloading remaining treats. It’s a mess of confetti, of costumed musicians, some matching, some in charivari1. You can grab a drink, get a snack, and watch the party go by. Or you can wind your way through the narrowest alleys, where you’ll probably run into three people marching and playing piccolos and drums. And they’ll be dressed like a cow, a clown, and a panda. That’s part of the spell. You think you’re ready to go home, and then a band that was taking a break near your bus stop puts on their masks and starts marching away, playing “Under the Sea.” And maybe you’ll just follow them and catch the next bus.
We’ve heard drumming and piccolos and marching bands for almost two weeks, so now everything sounds like drums: the tram approaching on the tracks, the trains in the train yard by work, a plane overhead. The piccolo melodies are stuck in my head. But I heard no music on my commute yesterday and saw no costumes. The hair salon by my office has already changed their window display from Fasnacht to Easter.
On Wednesday night, as the bus drove us away from Fasnacht 2024, I overheard a dad ask his kid, who was dressed as a jester, “Do you want to dress up again next year? What kind of costume?”
I get it. I can’t wait for next year either.
pronounced “shahree-vahree,” this means each group member chooses their own costume
It sounds like the setting for a movie. Imagine James Bond running through the crowd, grabbing one of those masks and a piccolo as a disguise - and we learn that James can plat the piccolo!