In Germany, we don't celebrate Armistice or Veteran's Day. November 11 has two quite different meanings there: First, it's the beginning of the carnival season (at precisely 11:11 am) and second, it's St. Martin's Day. (For those who are not familiar with the entire palette of saints, here is a short description of the saint and the traditions surrounding the day.)
Well, it turned out that the German embassy here organizes a St. Martin's Day parade. Via a friend of a friend of the woman who did the organizing (Judith Urban from the Embassy and she did a great job!), I heard of it and volunteered. Hey, it was to be Alan's first St. Martin's parade! I was thrilled!
I ended up not doing much due to our untimely visit to the States a week before the event, but I did organise some electrical lampion sticks. Those are less romantic but much safer for kids than the traditional candles - imagine Alan with fire -- ugh!
So as the sun went down last night, about a hundred children (and their parents) gathered in our neighborhood before the "old" German embassy on Str. Rabat. The children all brought their lanterns, some store-bought, many self-made. The guards of the surrounding embassies were getting visibly uneasy about this mass of people on the street and only relaxed when two police cars showed up, complete with blinking lights and all, and made the whole thing officially sanctioned. Then the band arrived (three trumpeters wooed away from the Music School), started playing and off we were, walking down Str. Rabat.
It's a very German holiday, St. Martin's Day. Having it here should have felt strange. (Like, in Germany, we don't require police because everybody is prepared for children parading down the streets.) But it felt very familiar. One little girl dropped her lantern and it caught fire and she started to cry a little and, you know, there was always one kid who did that. I had some spare paper lanterns and electrical sticks ready and the tears stopped flowing. I'm a veteran, so to speak.
We paraded down the street, the singing was a bit thin, we stopped at one house (I forget who lives there but thanks anyhow) where the kids were supposed to sing (which they didn't do much) and collect sweets (which they did a lot) and finally ended up at the German embassy. The gates swung open and we entered the ultra-secure grounds, complete with high spiked walls and all. Doug was impressed by how easily he could have blown up the premises if he had been inclined to do so.
In the courtyard, there was a nice little bonfire and another round of singing. The band botched a little by cutting one song a verse short (so St. Martin never did give his cloak to the beggar that night) and extended another by a verse (so we repeated the first one, we're flexible). Hot spiced wine, hot spiced juice for the kids, and Weckmännle (human shaped dough things) warmed everyone up. After some socializing, the event ended at around 8 pm, lots of the kids being wired and hyper by that time. That also felt familiar.
It was very nice. A piece of home. And I must say that knowing we'll be doing this again next year, adds a certain something. It's been a while since we've known a year ahead where we would be living. It feels very... settled.
Anyhow. Thanks to Judith Urban, Petra Müller-Demary and my friend Hilke Gerdes. They all made this a very special day for the German kids in Bucharest, and for me.
PS: How did Alan like it, you wonder? He liked it fine. Rode on his Dad's shoulders most of the times, dropped his lantern (see! good thing it wasn't a real candle!), wolfed down his snickers bar and half of his Weckmännle, rejected the hot spiced juice, loved seeing all the kids. He especially loved the police cars with the blinking lights. "Vroom, vroom". Indeed.
David, btw, slept through the entire thing.