Carnival in Nice

Carnival in Nice

If the word carnival means masked balls in Venice to most, or conjures images of feather-clad dancers writhing rhythmically through the streets of Rio, few people associate Nice with this pre-Lenten festival of excess and droll debauchery. Yet this most Latin of French cities is the capital of Carnaval in France, and transforms itself every February from a relatively sedate seaside metropolis into one vast party. The streets behind the waterfront and around Place Masséna explode in bright lights and color, and parades, masks, and impromptu street celebrations are everyday sights.

It's a tradition that dates back to pagan times, when the Romans fêted the end of winter and the dawning of spring. The festival translated easily into Christian terms, when the Church established the period of partial fasting before Easter. We call it Lent; the French call it Carême; but in Church Latin it was carne levare (crudely translated, "take out the meat"), and easily evolved into the word carnaval. Thus mardi gras (Fat Tuesday) was the last chance to indulge before Ash Wednesday and the deprivations of Lent. It wasn't long, however, before the pleasures of Carnaval outstripped those of Mardi Gras and shook free of their sacred meaning. The festival these days lasts a good two weeks and often takes place smack in the middle of Lent.

Nice's Carnaval is extremely user friendly, with a published calendar of events and easy advance ticket sales for any seated events. There's the presentation of towering effigies of King and Queen Carnaval on Place Masséna, which is transformed into an electric fantasyland of music and blinking lights. There are parades of magnificently crafted grosses têtes (literally, "fatheads"), enormous puppetlike personages that make Macy's balloons look like so much rubber. And there are the famous batailles des fleurs (flower battles), really full-scale parades complete with marching bands, clowns, and samba troupes. Elaborate floats heaped with Côte d'Azur flowers cruise down the Promenade des Anglais hauling a cargo of spectacularly costumed beauty queens who toss fresh flowers into the crowd. The crowds in the bleachers lining the Promenade des Anglais toss back confetti, wave branches of lemon-yellow mimosa, and cheer for their favorite floats. Weaving between the floats are stilt-walkers, jugglers, and street-theater troupes dressed in phantasmagoric excess who leer at onlookers and tease gawking children. Imagination reigns, and no image is too extreme, too bizarre, too extravagant.

The grand finale of Carnaval, which draws the days and nights of festivity to a close, takes on a solemn air. For the last time the towering dummy-king is paraded down Avenue Jean-Médecin and stands, still and lonely, on the dark pebble beach below the promenade. A parade of torchbearers in friars' robes cuts a glowing swath through the crowd and sets fire to the royal puppet. A silence falls over the crowd, then a cheer -- really a primal roar -- rises. The flames glow across the water as they engulf the king and, from a boat hovering offshore, fireworks burst in confetti colors over the waterfront. The party's over…at least until next year.