Basel, Switzerland: At 4am, Monday morning, all street lights are turned off. The carnival kicks off with 'morgenstreich': drummers and pipers playing piccolo flutes marching alongside others in costumes holding some 200 painted lanterns. Flour soup and onion tart are traditionally eaten...
Lausanne to Basel (via Bern): Sunday 13th to Monday 14th; 23:45 - 00:45, 1:52 - 03:20; Platform 8."
Thank you, Google!
So I was going to be sleep-deprived for the rest of the week, but surely, I couldn't pass up a real Swiss experience like this.
Armed with almond cake, fresh strawberries and a Victor Hugo play, I left the house at 11pm, ready to brave the cold and the crowds. Though I began my journey alone (no one on my Swiss contact list was crazy enough), I luckily ran into a few classmates on the train. I say luckily because one, I preferred company, especially while travelling at that time of the night/morning, two, I would have slept past my stop, and three, I would have been trampled to death in the parade. Many times.
After we bought a badge to support the carnival and a pretzel to wake ourselves up, we followed the masses of people to the city square. It was just like New Year’s Eve: no personal space whatsoever.
At 4am on the dot – Swiss precision – the city was plunged into darkness and a hush fell over the crowd. For a moment, we could see and hear nothing. Then, one by one, lanterns began to light up around the square and the first shrill notes of the piccolo pierced the still night air. Tight drum rolls followed, and suddenly, everything began to move. In the darkness, bands and lantern troops seemed to appear out of nowhere. With no set boundaries for parading, the masked musicians created their own paths – all seemingly aimed in my direction – and the crowd was forced to part according.
We admired the beautiful hand-painted lanterns of all shapes and sizes, colours and themes. From Greek gods to pirate ships and aliens to cobras, they floated overhead, illuminating the eccentric costumes of their owners below.
At 5am, morgenstreich ended and we squeezed into a cafe to enjoy some flour soup. As you do. It tasted a bit like gravy, but that was just fine with bread and cheese on a cold winter’s morning.
Perhaps it was my sleep-deprived state, or perhaps it was the big-nosed, commedia-esque masks under the lanterns’ mysterious glow, but the commencement of carnaval was nothing short of magical. Surreal, almost... A scene straight out of a Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Except I’ve got the photos to prove it!
Thank you, Google!
So I was going to be sleep-deprived for the rest of the week, but surely, I couldn't pass up a real Swiss experience like this.
Armed with almond cake, fresh strawberries and a Victor Hugo play, I left the house at 11pm, ready to brave the cold and the crowds. Though I began my journey alone (no one on my Swiss contact list was crazy enough), I luckily ran into a few classmates on the train. I say luckily because one, I preferred company, especially while travelling at that time of the night/morning, two, I would have slept past my stop, and three, I would have been trampled to death in the parade. Many times.
After we bought a badge to support the carnival and a pretzel to wake ourselves up, we followed the masses of people to the city square. It was just like New Year’s Eve: no personal space whatsoever.
At 4am on the dot – Swiss precision – the city was plunged into darkness and a hush fell over the crowd. For a moment, we could see and hear nothing. Then, one by one, lanterns began to light up around the square and the first shrill notes of the piccolo pierced the still night air. Tight drum rolls followed, and suddenly, everything began to move. In the darkness, bands and lantern troops seemed to appear out of nowhere. With no set boundaries for parading, the masked musicians created their own paths – all seemingly aimed in my direction – and the crowd was forced to part according.
We admired the beautiful hand-painted lanterns of all shapes and sizes, colours and themes. From Greek gods to pirate ships and aliens to cobras, they floated overhead, illuminating the eccentric costumes of their owners below.
At 5am, morgenstreich ended and we squeezed into a cafe to enjoy some flour soup. As you do. It tasted a bit like gravy, but that was just fine with bread and cheese on a cold winter’s morning.
Perhaps it was my sleep-deprived state, or perhaps it was the big-nosed, commedia-esque masks under the lanterns’ mysterious glow, but the commencement of carnaval was nothing short of magical. Surreal, almost... A scene straight out of a Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Except I’ve got the photos to prove it!
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