Carnival in Germany: From 11/11 at 11:11 to Cologne, Rio, and Maine

Written By dKay in Maine

The day this blog post went live is very dear to certain groups in Germany, and plenty of workers even take the day off. You may wonder: what’s so special about November 11th? It’s not just the date itself—it’s also the time of day. More specifically: 11:11 a.m.

That moment marks the official start of the Närrische Zeit, or “Foolish Season,” better known as Carnival. For many Germans, it’s the launch of a “fifth season” in the year, with celebrations in Cologne, Düsseldorf, Mainz, and beyond, which will run for months until it all ends on Ash Wednesday. But why exactly 11:11 on the 11th day of the 11th month?

Why November 11 at 11:11?

The repeated elevens are not a coincidence. For centuries, the number has been tied to foolishness and imperfection, making it the perfect symbol for a season when rules are bent, roles are reversed, and satire takes center stage.

  • The number eleven as a symbol of folly: In medieval thinking, numbers carried symbolic weight. Ten stood for order and law, like the Ten Commandments. Twelve suggested wholeness and perfection, from the months of the year to the apostles. Eleven sat awkwardly in between, neither orderly nor complete. It came to stand for imbalance and excess, the “fools’ number.” A fitting number for a season when social order is turned upside down.

  • The “Council of Eleven” (Elferrat): Carnival societies made this symbolism concrete by establishing the Elferrat, or Council of Eleven, as their traditional organizing committee in the Rhine carnival reform in 1823. This group leads parades, sets themes, and keeps the spirit of satire alive. Even the word elf (German for eleven) was later playfully linked to the French Revolution motto égalité, liberté, fraternité—a reminder that Carnival has long carried undertones of rebellion against authority, even in old Roman times, when slaves were allowed to mock their Roman masters and were served by them during the ancient Roman festival of Saturnalia.

  • St. Martin’s Day connection: November 11 is also the feast day of St. Martin, a popular saint in Catholic Europe. In the Middle Ages, this date marked the end of the harvest season. Contracts with farm workers were settled, rents were paid, and it was a time for one last celebration before the cold of winter and the fasting season of Advent. Holding a feast on this day fit naturally into the rhythms of agricultural life, and Carnival later adopted the date as its playful “season opener.”

But the choice of 11:11 is only part of the story. To understand how Carnival became the “fifth season” in Germany, we need to look at the traditions that grew out of medieval feasts and how they evolved into the celebrations we know today.

From Medieval Feasts to Modern Carnival

While Carnival officially begins on November 11, the season quiets down during Advent and Christmas. The celebrations pick up again after Epiphany on January 6 and grow livelier each week until they peak just before Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent. This long rhythm reflects centuries of tradition layered onto the practical needs of daily life.

  • Medieval roots: Early Carnival had a very practical purpose. Before Lent, households needed to use up perishable food like meat, eggs, and fat. Festivals became the way to do it—accompanied by music, dancing, and costumes that gave ordinary people a break from rigid social structures. Masks and playful disorder allowed people to step outside their usual roles, if only for a few days.

  • Regional growth along the Rhine: By the early modern period, cities along the Rhine had begun shaping Carnival in their own ways. Cologne built its reputation on spectacle — huge crowds, processions, and elaborate costumes. Mainz, by contrast, became known for sharp wordplay and well-organized events that leaned into humor and social commentary. Düsseldorf joined later, putting its own stamp on the tradition with satirical floats and political wit.

  • The rise of satire: By the 19th century, Carnival had become a recognized platform for political and social satire. Parades and speeches openly mocked rulers, church authorities, and later industrialists—without fear of reprisal. Floats carrying caricatures of politicians and public figures soon became a staple—a tradition that still defines Rosenmontag today. Carnival offered a rare chance to poke fun at the powerful, and not only was it allowed, it was expected.

  • Formalization through Carnival clubs: Also in the 19th century, the growing scale of events led to the creation of Carnival associations (Karnevalsvereine). Back then, Carnival clubs started taking charge of just about everything — from putting the Rosenmontag parades together to drafting the satirical speeches and keeping the “Council of Eleven” going. What had once been a patchwork of small, loosely run festivities slowly turned into organized civic events, and each city made the tradition its own in the process.

Today’s Carnival is the result of all these layers—religious timing, agricultural cycles, symbolic numbers, and the enduring appeal of satire—woven into a “fifth season” that continues to evolve but never loses its playful core.

Dive Deeper: Which Carnival Came First—and How Did It Spread?

The Rhenish Carnival, with its parades and political humor, feels distinctively German. Yet it is part of a much older and wider story. Carnival in one form or another has appeared across Europe since the Middle Ages, and through colonization it crossed oceans to the Americas. For those curious about the deeper history, here’s how Carnival first emerged and evolved into the different traditions we know today.

    • Carnival likely traces back even before Christianity—to pagan spring rites and Roman celebrations, such as Saturnalia, which celebrated renewal and role reversals at year’s end.

    • The word Carnival most likely stems from “carne vale,” “carnem levare,” or “carnelevarium”, Latin for “farewell to the flesh,” “to lift the flesh,” or “carnival,” respectively—signaling the start of Lent.

    • One of the earliest known mentions of Carnival is in a 12th-century Roman chronicle, describing a public parade and feasting before Ash Wednesday.

    • In Venice, Carnival was documented in 1296 by the Venetian Senate, recognizing it as a public festival; legend even ties its origin to a victory parade in 1162 to commemorate the Venetian Republic’s victory over the Patriarch of Aquileia, but the first recorded mention of the Venice Carnival comes from Doge Vitale Falier, who granted citizens the right to celebrate before Lent in 1094.

    • Nice, France records Carnival in 1294, when the Count of Provence remarked on the “joyous days of Carnival.”

    • Cologne’s Carnival can be traced back to at least 1341, but its modern, organized form with parades and costumes began in 1823 with the establishment of the “Festordnendes Comité” (lit. committee in charge of the event. Mainz and Düsseldorf followed similar paths, with satire and political humor becoming defining features.

    • The Schembart Carnival in Nuremberg dates from the 15th century and featured costumed revelers and satirical performances until it was banned in 1539. It was revived in 1974, and while it’s performed regularly, it’s not performed every year.

    • Swabian-Alemannic Fastnacht in Baden-Württemberg, Switzerland, and parts of Bavaria, France, and Austria combines Christian fasting customs with older folkloric traditions. Wooden masks of witches and spirits symbolize the battle against winter.

    • New Orleans’ Mardi Gras arrived with French settlers in the late 17th century; the modern parade tradition was formalized by groups like the Krewe of Comus in 1857.

    • Rio de Janeiro’s Carnival: Portuguese colonists introduced Carnival to Brazil in the form of Entrudo, a rowdy street celebration that involved water games and playful chaos. By the 1800s, Rio had added masked balls, copying the style of European high society. Over the years, those gatherings mixed with Afro-Brazilian music and dance, and out of that blend came the samba schools and street parades that people now think of as Rio’s Carnival.

So, while Cologne and Mainz can claim some of the oldest continuous Carnival traditions, the concept itself spread widely across Catholic Europe and then around the world through colonization and cultural blending.

At a Glance: Carnival Timeline by Region

Region / Carnival

Earliest Reference

Modern Form Begins
Medieval Christian Europe 12th-century parade in Rome —
Venice, Italy 1296 (documented by Venetian Senate) —
Nice, France 1294 (Count of Provence mentions it) —
Cologne, Germany 1341 1823 (Rosenmontag parades)
Nuremberg (Schembartlauf) 15th century Re-established post-1974
Alemannic Fastnacht (SW Germany / Swiss) Medieval festivity traditions Organized guilds in 20th century
New Orleans, USA (Mardi Gras) 1699 (French settlers mark Mardi Gras) 1857 (Krewe of Comus parade)
Brazil (Rio de Janeiro) 18th century (Entrudo brought by Portuguese colonists) 20th century (samba schools and parades)

Cologne, Düsseldorf, and Mainz: A Carnival Rivalry

Although Carnival is celebrated across much of Germany, three cities dominate the tradition and give it their own unmistakable flavor: Cologne, Düsseldorf, and Mainz. Each city claims to do it best, and the friendly rivalry has become part of Carnival itself.

  • Cologne (Köln): Cologne is said to host the largest and most famous Carnival in Germany, drawing millions of visitors each year. The city’s Rosenmontag parade is the highlight, featuring massive floats, marching bands, and costumed groups known as Jecken (jesters or fools). Cologne’s Carnival emphasizes tradition and pageantry, with carefully rehearsed parades and a long-established program of events. The local dialect, songs, and rituals make it deeply tied to the city’s identity.

  • Düsseldorf: Just ~25 miles north of Cologne, Düsseldorf is Carnival’s satirical counterweight. Its Rosenmontag floats are all about sharp political humor. Some of the caricatures go after German leaders, others take aim at international figures, and none of them pull their punches. Cologne might go bigger on spectacle, but Düsseldorf leans into satire, sometimes to the point of provocation. The rivalry between the two cities isn’t just tradition — ask around and plenty of locals will tell you, with a straight face, that their Carnival is the real one.

  • Mainz: Situated further along the Rhine, Mainz is often described as the intellectual center of Carnival. Its events are built around witty wordplay, political speeches, and Fastnachtssitzungen—evenings of skits, rhymes, and satire performed on stage. Mainz Carnival has a long history of lampooning both local and national politics, sometimes more through speeches than floats. It stands out for combining humor with literary and political sharpness.

The competition among Cologne, Düsseldorf, and Mainz isn’t just about who throws the biggest party. It’s about how each city uses Carnival to express its culture: Cologne through tradition and pride, Düsseldorf through satire and provocation, and Mainz through wit and politics. Together, they form the heart of Germany’s “Fifth Season.”

What Happens During Carnival?

Carnival isn’t only about the final parades — it’s a whole season of events that slowly builds up to the “crazy days” before Lent. After the quiet Advent and Christmas period, things kick off again in January with a full calendar of meetings, parties, and rehearsals that set the stage for the grand finale.

  • Carnival meetings (Sitzungen): Starting in January, Carnival clubs in Cologne, Mainz, and Düsseldorf put on evening shows. They’re a mix of speeches, music, and comedy sketches — often delivered in the local dialect. The fun part is the satire: politicians, current events, even hometown quirks all get their turn in the spotlight. For Mainz in particular, these meetings are the intellectual heart of Carnival—more about words than floats.

  • Weiberfastnacht (Women’s Carnival Day): On the Thursday before Lent, women take center stage. In many towns, they symbolically storm town halls, cutting men’s ties as a cheeky way of turning gender roles upside down. Offices, schools, and businesses often let out early that day, because the streets quickly fill with costumed revelers. It marks the start of the fünf tolle Tage — the “five crazy days” that culminate in Ash Wednesday.

  • Rosenmontag (Rose Monday): The highlight of the season, especially in Cologne, Düsseldorf, and Mainz. On Rosenmontag, floats rumble through the streets with big, elaborate designs — many of them poking fun at politicians and public figures with giant caricatures. Marching bands and dance groups keep the energy going, and people in costume toss sweets and small trinkets into the crowd. For locals, it feels like more than just a parade; it’s part satire, part street party, and part civic pride all rolled into one.
    As a child, I always dreamed of going to the Rosenmontagszug (Rose Monday Parade) in Cologne—mostly because they threw tons of Kamelle (candies) from the floats. We even had Rosenmontag off from school, but I never made it to the big parade in Cologne. Instead, I grew up with the smaller-town version—less spectacle, but still enough candy to catch.

  • Costumes and cries: Dressing up is essential. Costumes range from comic and absurd to elaborate and artistic. The energy is punctuated by regional Carnival cries: in Cologne, the shout “Kölle Alaaf!” rings through the streets, while in Düsseldorf and Mainz, crowds call “Helau!” These short, powerful words turn a parade into a dialogue, echoing between floats and spectators. But they can also cause some disappointment if you’re using the wrong Carnival cry. A group of German comedians actually turned this disappointment into a song, sung in the Kölsche Dialekt (Cologne’s regional dialect). If you’re up for it, give it a watch on YouTube (it has English Subtitles).

Carnival or Fastnacht? Two Traditions

Not all of Germany celebrates Carnival in the same way. While the Rhineland cities dominate the international image with their parades and satire, the south of Germany has its own distinctive version: the Alemannic Fastnacht.

In Baden-Württemberg, Swabia, and parts of Bavaria, Carnival takes on a more mystical and folkloric character. Instead of clowns and satirical floats, people wear carved wooden masks — witches, devils, wild spirits. The parades here aren’t really about parody at all; they feel more like ritual, with roots that may go back before Christianity. At their core, the processions are about chasing away the darkness of winter and calling in the spring. The contrast is striking: the Rhenish Karneval thrives on humor, satire, and civic spectacle, while the Alemannic Fastnacht leans into tradition, masks, and myth. Together, they show the richness and variety of Germany’s “Fifth Season.”

From Cologne to Maine: Why Every Culture Needs a Carnival

Germany’s Carnival season may be centuries old and deeply tied to Catholic tradition, but the impulse behind it is universal. Communities everywhere invent moments in the calendar when rules are loosened, humor is encouraged, and people can come together in celebration.

In the U.S., the closest parallel is Mardi Gras in New Orleans, another pre-Lenten festival built on parades, music, satire, and community identity. Like Cologne’s Rosenmontag, Mardi Gras floats are designed to make a statement — sometimes playful, sometimes political — and the energy comes as much from the crowd as from the performers.

Head down to Rio and Carnival looks nothing like Europe’s. It takes over the whole city. Some say it’s the biggest party in the world — and it feels that way. You’ll see samba everywhere, people in sequined costumes, drums shaking the streets late into the night. It grew out of Catholic tradition, sure, but it’s also deeply Brazilian, shaped by Afro-Brazilian music and dance. Same calendar, completely different celebration.

Maine doesn’t have Carnival in the same sense, but it has plenty of traditions that fill a similar role: bringing people together, showing off local pride, and breaking up the long winter. In Lisbon, the Moxie Festival pays tribute to a quirky soft drink with floats, parades, and humor. Rockland’s Lobster Festival makes the state’s most famous crustacean the star of the show, complete with its own parade and plenty of community spirit. And winter festivals in towns like Belfast use costumes, ice sculptures, and snow sports to keep spirits high when the days are short.

Just like Kölle Alaaf! in Cologne or Helau! in Düsseldorf, these Maine festivals have their own local “shouts” — not always spoken, but expressed in the shared pride of being part of something distinctly local. They may not look the same as Germany’s Carnival, but the function is similar: breaking up routine, strengthening community bonds, and letting people laugh together.

In that sense, November 11 at 11:11 isn’t only a German story. It’s a reminder that wherever we live — whether along the Rhine or along the Kennebec — people find ways to turn dark seasons into light, and everyday life into celebration.

Have you ever been to a Carnival celebration—in Germany, New Orleans, Rio, or somewhere else? What stood out most to you?

P.S.: My favorite document talking about the carnival in Cologne is probably this letter from journalist David Binder to Mr. Walter S. Rogers of the Institute of Current World Affairs, received in New York on March 20, 1958.

dKay in Maine
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