Looking south across Taormina to Mt. Etna, smoking ahead of it’s recent eruption.
The current view, above, and my morning’s-eye view a week ago, below.
Archives for February 2013
Closing out Carnival
Each morning, the streets are quiet, littered with confetti, glasses, and paper. By 9:00 the Zambonis appear a platoon of street sweeper that scoop up all the trash before people start drifting back in at noon. 
They arrive in miniature versions of Sunday’s parade, pushing floats through the Wyck and playing polkas and Sousa marches as bands cross the Maas. Some set up on 
street corners to perform, while others cross the city, posing for pictures.
It’s a wonderful event, one I look forward to and that has no real counterpart in the US. I’m not sure why: maybe a country has to pass through it’s period as a world economic and military power, emerging with a more relaxed sense of itself.
And on Tuesday evening, it all ends. The bier is discounted one final time; the Moeswijf drops at midnight.
Carnival redux
Carnival always brings out the weird ideas alongside the clever ones. This year was no exception. Here is a gallery of some of the ones that I liked best.
Seventh Heaven shut down for the duration: the show moved onto the streets in it’s place.
Carnival parade 2013
There was a lot of creativity and color in the Maastricht Carnival celebration this year, despite frightfully cold weather and occasional rain. I think that everyone just layered on the padding and drank more bier to get by.
We had the annual Kesselskad feestje as the parade passed by (for four hours), about a dozen friends for a buffet and to enjoy the two-year-olds that are sprinkled through the families.
I was a pirate. Okay, an old pirate, with spectacles and a flowing black mane. I’d forgotten how dynamic really long hair is when I walk, and how itchy. My friend are threatening to make sure the Internet never forgets that I once looked like this.
The Moeswijf was raised just after noon to speeches and fireworks and the taps opened across the city. There were a lot of clever costumes, Shades of Grey and nautical themes were prevalent alongside the feathers, the face paint, and the Crown Prince and Maxima.
And, as dusk fell, the floats dispersed into the sides streets, the crowds filled the squares and alleys, and the music swelled. There were reports the next morning of riots in the main squares in the wee hours, but we didn’t see any of it. We swayed to a group mimicking ABBA, flowed with the drumbeats of Segura, and darted into the crowded bars.
More pictures, as always, at my Flickr page.
Carnivale zaterdag
Younger / Elder
The first night of Carnival brought snow flurries.
…and an American, Nave from Las Vegas. He was a cordon bleu chef and a blue water sailor, confident and condescending, an aspirational figure who didn’t quite live up to the dream. He’s the sort of 28-year old who used to trouble me at 24. They seemed to bounce between comfortable postings and conjugal women effortlessly, where I always needed to be a striver. Maybe I was trying too hard? Why not give up the maths and sciences and learn to cook 
and tie knots. Maybe that was the real secret of life?
A lifetime later, I can smile and credit his panache without falling for his charms. I’ve seen them come and go; starting with John Catoline on the Experiment and trending through this. As a result,I know exactly where he’s heading. And I’m happy with my life, proud of my family, confident in my aspirations.
Although a four-month’s blue-water sail is still tempting…
The first night of Carnivale brought music.
…and friends in trouble. There is an epidemic of prostate cancer alerts among my peers. It’ a difficult condition – no way to really check to see if you have it. They just go in to see the doctor about some non-specific symptom and within days they are in surgery and radiation therapy. And we sit down over coffee and talk about how their dreams now focus on months, not years, and how the next test result due 
next Monday, will dictate the terms of the coming year.
It’s unnerving: life can change so quickly, so unexpectedly. As an expat I always feel especially vulnerable to a sudden health crisis, dependent on work and travel for keeping a visa and paying the bills.
What if…? How could I prepare? How would I carry on?
Seriously, I couldn’t. I sympathize and support them; I feel the cold wind on my back.
The first night of Carnival brought reflection amidst the revelry.
From the first night, onwards, we all wear our masks.