I never used to think much of Easter. I don’t mean I thought badly of it; I just mean I never thought of it. Easter in the city comes and goes when you’re a skeptical kid: you notice that everyone around you has gone bunny-hopping mad, and that suddenly kids are bringing even more chocolate into school, and maybe you decorate some eggs with your family on Sunday, but the build-up isn’t there, and afterward, nothing seems all that different.
In Germany, Easter is still a big deal. The Friday and Monday before and after, designated “Karfreitag” and “Ostermontag” respectively, are national holidays, and Eastertime is family time in a big way. On the way up to the country this weekend, my friend Gry and I had to take three different trains just to get up to Parstein—a trip of nearly two hours that normally takes 45 minutes. The explanation? Apparently, every Berliner had woken up on Saturday, realized the weather was nice, and headed up to the Baltic sea with haste. And really, after another long winter, could you blame them?
Here you notice the flowers, you notice the trees, you notice that it’s still light out past 7pm, and that you can finally go outside without a scarf if you want to. The first jump in the lake, the first meal outside, and the weekend really feels like a turning point. This weekend was the unofficial beginning of spring, and we did quite a lot to celebrate it properly. In no particular order we…
…went swimming in Parsteiner See for the first time this year.
…made a new friend.
…wondered about sunken treasure.
…found haute-couture trees.
…went hay bale-climbing.
…ate our Easter roast in the garden.