On the last weekend before the sombre Christian period of Lent, this modest Flemish city, just northwest of Brussels, puts on a show to rival Mardi Gras festivities in Rio de Janeiro (even if the weather is not quite so exotic).

The earliest record of carnival in Aalst is from 1443 when cities and towns all over the Low Countries staged processions and partied like wild things. This tradition has sadly faded in cities like Brussels and Antwerp but survives in full-blooded form in Aalst.

Carnival is thought to have developed as a pagan festival to celebrate the end of winter and the forthcoming spring and later became part of the Christian feast before the fast. It was – and is – a time of year for citizens to really let their hair down. “If the authorities let them do what they liked one day of the year,” says Luc Geeroms of the Aalst Carnival Museum, “they could be sure they would stay in line the rest of the time.”

It’s also an opportunity for Aalstenaars to let their fellow citizens know what they really think, without, hopefully, too many repercussions. “A court jester could tell the truth but did so in disguise. That’s where the spirit of carnival comes from,” explains Geeroms.
Some 2,500 people march in Aalst’s main Carnival parade every February, cheered on by about 80,000 spectators. The tradition has stayed very much alive, thanks to a group of local merchants who saw a very big commercial opportunity.

In 1923, these merchants formed a carnival committee and ever since (apart from during the German occupation, when festivities were held undercover) celebrations have become increasingly elaborate, with the highlight being the Sunday parade.

Aalst even has a bid in for its carnival to become a UNESCO heritage event. “Aalst is very proud of the carnival,” says Karolien Van Der Hulst of the city’s marketing department. Though apparently, not everyone enjoys all the attention. The people of Aalst, she says, fall into two categories: those who love the carnival and those who get as far away as possible during it. “Most people stay, though,” she smiles. “What is typical Aalst is that you have a carnival gene – you have to be part of it.”

Not politics as usual

Aalstenaars slave away for nearly the entire year to put together fancy floats and costumes for Carnival. The city in fact has specially dedicated halls on the quay where people work at night and on weekends to complete their masterpieces.

The carnival committee accepts applications from groups that want to participate in the parade, although city rules state that two-thirds of the groups must be from Aalst. You have to be prepared to do it out of love for Carnival. “They are amateurs who do it for free and to have fun,” said Geeroms.

Though some of the floats look anything but amateurish, Aalstenaars certainly do have their fun. Many floats sport satirical themes, particularly taking a swipe at politics: local politics in their city, on a national scale or even in a wider, international context. Previous parades have seen effigies of George W Bush and Saddam Hussein.

“Every year they satirise the politicians,” says Van Der Hulst. “This year we expect to see lots of carts about the rise and fall of the Belgian government.” A few Barack Obamas could well find their way in there, too.

This year’s list of floats includes one with French president Nicolas Sarkozy and another depicting the banking crisis (which will inevitably lampoon the ailing Belgian banking groups Fortis, Dexia and KBC).

Parodies of local figures also come into play. The parade sometimes includes a horse known as Ros Beiaard, a mythical creature that was impossible to master until a young knight from neighbouring Dendermonde came along. The impish Aalstenaars occasionally include such a horse in their own parade to thumb their noses at Dendermondenaars with whom they have a rivalry dating back to the Middle Ages.

Three days of debauchery

The parade is a key festivity, but there’s plenty of action aside from that during Carnival. This is a time when Aalstenaars indulge in some heavy partying along with a few traditions, both local and borrowed. Although activities begin the week before, most of the action happens from 22 to 24 February.

After the Sunday parade, a fair is held in the town’s main square (Grote Markt) with attractions such as pony rides and haunted houses. All the bars and cafés blare out Carnival music. They might sound like familiar tunes, but listen more closely and you notice that the locals have made up new lyrics in their regional dialect and set them to the music of popular songs from the preceding year.

Café owners also join in with the satirical theme, painting caricatures of politicians’ antics and current affairs on their windows. Again, Fortis (or Foertis as it is in Aalst dialect) features prominently, with one backstreet café depicting a cartoon man throwing bills out of his pocket onto the street.

“There are almost no limits as to what can be done,” says Pieter de Maeght. “The whole point is that everything gets subjected to satire and criticism. The dialect of our city is also unique, and so it creates a bond between all the people of Oiljst” (that’s Aalst in dialect).

“You can visit all the bars, talk to everybody and do what you want,” continues De Maeght. “People are excited about these three days, and they want to party, be a little crazy be free. You literally don't go home for three days – people sleep in the bars and on the streets. And everybody is dancing!”

Got your onion?

The second day, Monday, sees a repeat of the Sunday parade and, more importantly, the onion throwing. Aalstenaars are nicknamed Ajuinen, or Onions, by their fellow Belgians because of the large number of onion farms that once dotted the region.

In the Grote Markt, the Carnival Prince, a local elected because of his engagement in social affairs of the city, stands on the balcony of the City Hall and throws onions into the crowd. One hundred of these have a number on them, which is linked to a small prize. There is only one golden onion, though, whose gleeful recipient gets a valuable piece of jewellry – in the shape of an onion.

Monday also sees a tradition borrowed from Binche in the French-speaking region of Belgium, which also celebrates Carnival every year. Masked characters known as Gilles perform a broom dance in the Grote Markt. For the Brits out there, this is something akin to Morris dancing.

The final day of the festival sees the parade of the Voil Jeanetten, where men dress up in women’s clothing, much to the delight of the crowds and, finally, the ritual that ends Carnival: the burning of the doll.

This is an effigy of Carnival itself dressed in a parade costume, which is set on fire by the prince. The tradition is thought to be a throwback to pagan times, representing the burning of the spirit of winter.

Afterwards, everyone sings the city’s anthem “Aalst: stad van mijn dromen” (“Aalst: City of My Dreams”). Aalsternaars then typically fall about in sobs as their revelling is over for another year.

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Carnival Museum

One of the most intriguing sides of Carnival is its history, the quirky details of which can be found in the city museum, where everything you ever wanted to know and more is laid out in a colourful exhibition.

It starts with a series of documents and sketches of carnival past, with mediaeval line drawings illustrating the antics of the day and town records dating back to the 1400s. Moving forward in time, there are displays of the first Gilles, a tradition borrowed from the Binche carnival in the French-speaking region, a kaleidiscope of masks used in former parades and pictures showing how the parade carts are put together.

There’s an old-fashioned bar (but no beer, I’m afraid), depicting on its windows early satirical cartoons that mocked the politicians of the day. This is a trend that has endured, giving cheeky Aalst residents a channel for their grievances.

I’m led through a dark ghost-like tent and greeted by glowing skeleton figures. Such scary garb was de rigueur in the 1950s and 60s. It was certainly a way for over-excited revellers to avoid recognition by their superiors.

Last, but not by any means least, is an exhibition of the parade of the Voil Jeanetten (Dirty Jennies). Here you will find some examples of the somewhat curious paraphernalia carried by the men of Aalst as they put on women’s clothing for the day.

The museum is closed during Carnival but is normally open Tuesdays to Sundays. A “must see” if you’re in Aalst and want to delve deeper into the stories of Carnival.

Stedelijk Museum Aalst, Oude Vismaarkt 13


Women’s Day…sort of

If Carnival parades are not quite your thing, there’s an alternative spectacle on the Tuesday that is certainly an eye-catcher. This is the day when the men of Aalst get to release their inner woman.

Stockings and suspenders, hot lipstick shades and mini skirts are out in full force as the men stroll through the city, blowing kisses at the crowd and flashing a bit of leg to the squealing onlookers.

If their sexy get-ups aren’t enough entertainment in themselves, the men also carry a range of curious objects, including a dried herring, a bird cage, a chamber pot (together with what is, hopefully, fake poo) and some stinky cheese. They sport lampshades in garish colours for hats and some cheeky fellows have been known to flash a thong.

No one quite knows the origins of carrying such accessories, but it’s generally thought that the tradition, known as Voil Jeanetten (or “Dirty Jennies”) and dating back to the 19th century, was a cheap way for poor citizens to participate in the festivities, while provoking the bourgeoisie.

“Myself, I usually go as a Voil Jeanet,” Aalstenaar Pieter de Maeght tells me. “Basically, you dress up like a filthy woman, with all the wrong combinations and showing a lot of skin, wearing lipstick and mascara.”

Not all Aalst men enter into it with quite such gusto. One man confesses that he once got himself decked out as Voil Jeanet but found the only good thing about it was the obligatory child’s pram. “It’s a good place to put your beer,” he mutters.

Be careful about throwing around the word Jeanet, though. Like much else, outside of Carnival, it’s just the wrong side of acceptable.


What to see and when

Sunday 22 Feb

13.00 Kickoff of the parade from the Pierre Corneliskaai. It makes its way to the Grote Markt by 15.00 and ends at about 19.00.

19.00 Have fun at the fair in the evening with pony rides and scare yourself silly in the ghost house.

24.00 Party all night in the Aalst’s packed bars.

2.00 Slug a few beers, gorge yourself on smoutebollen (doughy, deep-fried Belgian specialty) and laugh at the cartoon satire café owners paint on their windows.


Monday 23 Feb

14.00 Watch the Gilles perform their broom dance in the Grote Markt

14.00 Coo at the cute kids in the Kindercarnaval (Children’s Carnival) in Sint-Annazaal

14.30 Try to catch an onion on Grote Markt. The carnival prince throws these pungent vegetables into the crowd, and 100 of them have a number. If you catch one of these, you win a prize. Watch out especially for the golden onion.

20.30 Cheer the winners of the parade


Tuesday 24 February

15.00 Wolf whistle at the lads dressed as lasses in the Voil Jeanetten parade in Grote Markt

20.00 Cry with the locals as the doll, an effigy of carnival, is burnt to symbolise the end of the festivities, and sing your heart out if you can learn enough Aalst dialect by then