Twee Carnavals

...and there I was, minding my own business, in my micro-apartment, quietly doing laundry to a Talking Heads CD turned low (sacrilege, I know), when something LOUD, REALLY LOUD outside...I couldn't quite imagine...so I stepped to the window...

OK now, folks, whatever I was expecting, this was not it. But indeed it was carnaval weekend, and Bussum was doing its part.
 

This went on for a half hour or so, and while sometimes it seems the Dutch work so very hard at having a good time, I have to admit they were braving the cold and wind to amuse the kids lining Huizerweg. Not exactly the Rio carnival or Mardi Gras, but worth a look.
 

Sometimes it got vaguely disturbing.
 

Then they all took the roundabout 300 meters to my east, and partied right back to Greater Bussum.
 

If nothing else, it inspired me to take a train and see how another town might do it. Yes, they all do this on the same Saturday afternoon. I missed the train to Leiden, so I took one in the other direction, to Utrecht. This turned out to be a brilliant idea.

Utrecht is actually the Netherlands' third largest city, and the parade stretched from one end of the dense city all the way out the other end. The traffic jams were apocalyptic, but the Politie gave no slack. This was parade day--if you didn't want to sit in your car or or on a stuck bus, you should have walked or stayed home. I snapped a few shots near the main post office (other than that I have no idea where I was). This informal, local marching band was superbly good. The drummer at left was one of the best of this genre I have ever, ever seen and heard. Inventive, never repeating himself (I followed for a while)--seriously rocking.
 

Look at this guy...and then look at all the spectators looking the other way? What could be more interesting than a guy dressed up like this?...
 

...of course: several people dressed up like this.
 

No matter what, Dutch parents expect their children to walk the line (probably without ever having heard of Johnny Cash).
 

A slow moment in the procession. I turn behind me at random...it must be everywhere here. Photographer's paradise.
 

I was just about to head for the train station, when the best of all happened by. Flaming pink hair. A working bar, and ten floozies drinking themselves into oblivion. Twenty Killer Spike Heels. And under each bar stool, a pair of pedals, connected to chains, connected to the wheels. Yes, these harpies pedalled their way in the parade. Just free-flowing gin (Dutch in origin), spike heels, and bike pedals. For all I know, this is how they tour Utrecht every Saturday. No motor, no noise, plenty of booze, no petroleum consumption, no pollution. Very Dutch. I like it.