Last I left you, I was in the midst of waxing rhapsodic about the bizarreness that is Cologne Carneval. And when I wrote, I wrote that I was through with the six-day drunken street orgy. I was wrong.
Although I successfully avoided the Rosenmontag parade by heading to the near-empty sauna, I still had to head out with the Diva in Training to watch the kids’ parade. The kiddie version of Karneval is actually pretty neat to watch. Never mind the indoctrination-since-birth of Koelsche Lieder, the kids love to bellow Koelle Alaaf! and sing Viva Colonia! while freezing their tushies off just so they can catch oodles of marshmallows made of porkbelly (So much for raising a vegetarian). Even the adults get in the heads-up action.
And while I would like to write more about the city’s pre-Lenten shenanigans, the post-Carneval flu has had the Lederhosen household in a bit of a tuff lately so I’d rather not think too much more about the possible meanings behind adorning a stewardess costume or what exactly those Koelsche Maedels are doing to feminism when they sing about loving but not needing men. Instead, I’ll leave you with this parting pic. No one ever said the Germans don’t need how to let down their hair. These guys, like virtually every other pot-bellied post-fifties man in the city, took their costumes very seriously.