A Good Slip

Germans are normally avid rule followers. But like anyone under the yoke to behave, they find certain, contained ways to cut loose. The speed-limitless autobahn is, of course, one way in which Germans throw caution to the wind to test out the muscle of their latest BMWs and to live on the edge. New Year’s Eve is a second example of the joyride replacing good sense.

Reverie usually starts way before the sun sets with the occasional fizzle and pop of stray fireworks. In the morning, last minute shoppers cram in their
last chance to buy booze before the stores close at noon. Bakeries distribute the holiday’s signature food: jelly donuts. Not just any jelly donuts, by the way — Ich-bin-ein-Berliner jelly donuts. Puffy and sprinkled with powdered sugar, Berliners come with a host of new fillings specially for New Year’s. We headed out the morning of to discover what was on hand and came back with a dozen Berliners for a taste testing. They included plum jam, red current jelly, Champagne, egg liquor,
Nutella, chocolate mousse, and vanilla. This was on top of the dozen or so of the standard variety that our brother-in-law, Jan, had already picked up for the party that night.

Tradition has it that one Berliner is filled with mustard and the seemingly unfortunate fellow who happens to pick it from the bunch is supposed to have good luck. Sort of a bittersweet, or should we say, spicy sweet beginning to the new year. We filled one of the Berliners with extra spicy mustard, for good measure, and set it in the glass bowl containing the others.

Hours of drinking and eating passed on the way to midnight, and most of the Germans sitting around the kitchen table avoided the Berliners in favor of more unusual offerings like the chili and chips and salsa we had prepared. Or was it fear of the mustard?

Fireworks are mostly do-it-yourself in Germany which means amateurs create their own uncoordinated “displays” on the neighborhood streets and squares. From an early age, though, kids get practice in setting off fireworks and as they grow older progress to increasingly larger and more dangerous varieties. Unfortunately, as the years pass and their levels advance so does their alcohol consumption. It’s not clear who we would rather be in charge – the young kid who’s still scared about the fuse between his fingers or the adult using the Champagne bottle he just polished off to prop a bottle rocket. In fact, people here typically get started with fireworks by emptying a bottle of booze to use as a launching pad. The Germans use a phrase specifically for the time before midnight on New Year’s Eve. “Gutes rutsch,” or “good slip,” is sort of like wishing someone’s survival into the next day.

Midnight approached and the square out front filled around the edges with crowds from the neighborhood. No one dared broach the center of the square, as this was the primary direction of launch, though staying on the edge ensured no real safety. Behind us, on the streets, others had found small spots amongst the crowds to launch their fireworks. The subway station entrance was popular –despite the fact that the trains were still running – for its thundering echo effect.

Outside, the smoky air was so thick that people nearby were reduced to mere silhouettes. That, combined with the sharp cracks and many flashes of light gave Siegfried Platz the feeling of Falusha. One ambulance went by, then another.

Finally, midnight and a heart-felt “Happy New Year.” The dance parties around town would soon be getting really underway. We turned back to the family and sat next to the bowl of Berliners for a couple more hours, then fell asleep. In the morning, we awoke to discover four of the donuts remained. One was still the mustard.

Last we checked, days later, it was still there. It seems no one wanted the good luck of a mustard Berliner. Guess some traditions die.